Beauty Found: A Novella (Hades Hangmen 6.5)

by Tillie Cole

I had no fucking idea if Reaper believed a word I said, but he pulled back his Glock and nudged his head in the direction of his bike. “Fix it. Then we’ll see if I let you live or not.” He smiled, a sick and fucked-up smile. “If you fuck up, you’ll just be another of my donations to the boatman.”

  “Beauty, get my tools from my bike.” Beauty’s heels clicked across the ground. When she handed the tools to me, I saw the tears in her eyes. “It’ll be okay,” I said, not knowing if that shit was true. I flicked my chin, telling her to get back. To keep away.

  I looked over my shoulder at Reaper, who’d lit up another smoke. He held his Glock by his side, ready to send me to Hades. I bent down and in minutes found the problem. “Your fuel injector is fucked.”

  Reaper didn’t say shit for a second. Then, “Fix it.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I glanced up at Beauty. There was no fucking way I was losing her. It could be fixed enough for him to get home. But I knew about Reaper. A fucking cold-blooded killer. Killed for fun, and he’d made the Hangmen mother chapter the most fucking violent and feared gang in all of Texas. Fuck, in all of the States. Landry never went near the Hangmen for a reason.

  Rumor had it the cunt even killed his own old lady in front of his mute kid.

  My life could depend on how pissed the fucker was in this second.

  I got to work. An hour later, the bike was patched up. I stood up and stepped back. Reaper walked, calm as fuck, to the bike and bent down, looking at my work. I was good. Real fucking good. I knew it would be the best work he’d ever seen.

  Reaper stood back up and breathed the smoke from his cigarette in my face. He started the engine. The Fat Boy purred. I lifted my eyebrow. “Midday tomorrow. Hangmen compound. Be there.” Reaper looked back at Beauty. “Leave Big Tits the fuck at home.”

  “Ain’t planning on going back to Austin.”

  Reaper smiled. It was anything but a good smile. “Wasn’t fucking asking, Nazi. I’m in the business of tellin’, and I’m tellin’ you to get your Nazi ass to the compound tomorrow.” He put another smoke in his mouth and took a swig of the bourbon that had been in his saddlebag. “No one touches the Hangmen or anyone on our compound, if you’re being a weepin’ pussy over your old brotherhood seeing you.” His smile got wider. Crazier. “Though I always fucking enjoy it when they try.”

  He flew down the road back to Austin. I sucked in a quick breath and turned. Beauty launched herself into my arms. Her legs wrapped around my waist and her arms were tight around my neck. “It’s all right, baby,” I said, but I felt her tears against my neck. She didn’t let go. Instead she pulled back, giving me a glimpse of her watering blue eyes, then smashed her lips to mine. Her long red nails clawed at my jacket, then my shirt. I walked forward until I had her against the wall.

  Her hand ran over my cock and I groaned into her mouth. She was desperate, fucking frenzied as she fumbled with my zipper and pulled out my cock. I didn’t wait. I pushed her panties aside and slid the fuck in. Beauty’s head snapped back as I pounded into her. Her moans sailed around the deserted rest stop. I crushed my lips to hers and fucking groaned when her tongue pushed into my mouth.

  I fucked Beauty hard, her pussy gripping my cock. My head fell to her shoulder as she came, her tight pussy taking me over with her. I slammed into her three more times before she sagged in my arms. Sweat ran down my back. I looked up at Beauty. Her hands were immediately on my face, and my heart fucking broke when I saw the tears on her cheeks.

  I went to say something, to tell her it was okay, when she whispered, “I love you.” My breath got caught in my chest. “You know that? I’ve fucking fallen in love with you, darlin’.”

  “I know.” I held her tighter. “Love you too, beauty queen.”

  She laughed at her old nickname, but then the tears started falling again. “I was so scared,” she whispered.

  “It’s my life, baby.” Beauty blinked up at me. I pulled out from her pussy and pushed her panties back in place. Before I could let her go, Beauty reached down and put me back in my jeans, fastening them back up.

  “I didn’t want you to let me go.”

  Fuck . . . this woman . . .

  Gripping her tighter, I inhaled her flowery scent. “You didn’t know me when I was in the Klan.” I took a long fucking breath. “I’ve killed before. You know that, right?” I hadn’t told her why I’d been in prison. Hadn’t really told her anything about my past.

  Beauty’s eyes widened, but then her shoulders sagged. “Yeah . . . I know.”

  I picked Beauty up and carried her to the edge of the land behind the rest stop. I slumped against a tree, keeping her in my lap. She laid her head on my chest. “I miss it,” I said, and Beauty froze.

  She looked into my eyes. “The Klan?” Her voice was thick with fear.

  “Being in a brotherhood.” Sympathy quickly replaced the panic on her face. “I ain’t made for this life, jumping between towns, alone.” Beauty’s face paled, and she moved to get up. I stopped her. “We ain’t. You got too big a personality to be trapped in this kind of life. No friends.”

  “I want you.”

  “You got me. Always.” I took hold of her hand. “But we’re going to Austin.”

  Beauty stared off into the woods behind us. “I know of the Hangmen, Tank. They’re fucking insane.” She ran her hand over my forehead, then kissed the center. “That asshole had a gun to your head.”

  I couldn’t help but smirk. “That asshole is the meanest motherfucker I’ve ever heard of.”

  “And we’re going to them tomorrow anyway?”

  We. ’Cause she was never going anywhere without me again. “Fucking Reaper Nash tells you to be somewhere, you arrive an hour early with a fucking smile on your face. I ain’t messing with the Hangmen. They have a bike shop. Maybe that’s it. Maybe there’ll be an offer of a job.”

  Beauty got to her feet, then stared down at me for a few seconds. “Then we got a long journey back to the ATX.” I got up and kissed her lips. “I need to pick up my things from the motel and change into my leathers.”

  As she went to walk to the bike, I pulled her back to me, her tits pushed against my chest. I took her chin with my free hand. “But the panties stay on. Wanna know my cum is still inside you when we ride.”

  “Careful, darlin’,” she warned as she broke from me and strutted toward the bike. She looked back at me over her shoulder. “Or ain’t no one making it to Austin tomorrow.”

  I smiled, then got on my bike and took us to pick up our shit. We had an appointment with the Reaper to keep.

  *****

  I stared up at the building, a painting of Hades, the Hangmen emblem, staring back at me. The gate opened and I walked through. A few guys were scattered around the yard. This was the bike shop’s entrance. No fucker got through the main entrance unless you were patched in. Found that out when I’d first joined the Klan and a bunch of newbies thought they could take on this club. Wanted to get into Landry’s good graces. Not one of those assholes came back alive. Reaper sent the security tape of them being beaten to death by him and his VP to the ranch for our enjoyment.

  “You’re the Nazi?”

  I snapped my head to the side to see a huge fuck-off Samoan-looking guy glaring at me. His had ink everywhere, even on his face. He wore jeans and a wifebeater. Both were covered in oil.

  “Ex,” I said and stared at the fucker right back. He raised his eyebrow like he didn’t believe one word I said.

  “Reaper said you fixed his bike.” It wasn’t a question. The Samoan walked off, and I followed. I walked past some fucker with long red hair, who sent me a Nazi salute as I passed then blew me a kiss.

  Prick.

  We arrived at the garage, where three Harleys sat. The Samoan pointed at a Street Glide in the corner. “You fix that by the end of the day, you got a job.” Excitement fucking burst in my veins. The guy walked to the Fat Boy across the shop. It was almost identical to the one Reaper rode yesterday.


  I looked up. “You got a name?”

  The guy looked back. “Not fucking white.”

  I sighed, then got my tools from my bike and got the fuck to work.

  The Samoan checked all around the bike. When he stood up, he eyed me with death in his gaze. “You got a problem with anyone outside the supreme white race or whatever the fuck you cunts claim to be?”

  “I did. Then didn’t. Did time. Then walked the fuck away.” I instinctively ran my hand over my shank scar. The Samoan’s eyes narrowed on the movement.

  He stepped closer. “You cross Reaper, or any of us brothers, and it’ll be you who gets lynched. I don’t give a fuck how good a mechanic you are. You’re here to work. You hear anything you shouldn’t, you keep your head the fuck down and don’t repeat a word.” He paused. “And we find out anything about us gets to those Klan cunts of Landry’s, your old boys, I’ll personally cut out your tongue and mail it to your old lady so she knows you won’t be licking her pussy no more.”

  “Understood.”

  He moved back to the Street Glide. “Never seen work as good as this . . . not even my own.”

  “That hard for you to admit?” I crossed my arms across my chest.

  The Samoan raised his brow at me. “Fuck yeah.” I smirked. “Bull.” I frowned.

  “I’m Bull. I run this shop. But I’m in desperate need of a mechanic who’s A, good, and B, not a fucking pussy around my brothers and the shit that goes down around here.”

  I nodded my head, about to say something when a voice came from the entrance of the workshop. “He work out or do I have to send him to the boatman?” Reaper walked in. As yesterday, the fucker had the promise of a real fucking slow and painful death in his eyes. A kid walked behind him. He looked like Reaper, but younger.

  The kid watched me with the same suspicious eyes as his old man.

  “He’ll do,” Bull said.

  “You got the job,” Reaper told me. But I could see by the disappointment on his face that he’d rather have had an excuse to kill me. Reaper looked at Bull. “His bike done?” He nudged his head to the kid behind him. Looked eighteen, nineteen. Something like that.

  “Just finished.”

  Bull showed Reaper the bike. The kid looked over his shoulder, looking up at me, eyes suspicious. “Nice ink,” I said. He had a picture of Hades and his old lady on his arm, like the mural I’d seen out in the yard. Two bright-as-fuck blue eyes stood out on the woman. “Been doing tattoos since I was a kid. I’m good, but that work’s better,” I added.

  The kid nodded. Reaper let out a loud laugh. “Won’t get nothing from my retarded kid. Doesn’t speak.” The kid clenched his jaw. Reaper put his arm around the kid’s shoulder and put his hand on his son’s jaw. “Styx here ‘signs,’ whatever the fuck that shit is.” Reaper started moving Styx’s jaw like he was talking, like he was a fucking puppet and Reaper was the puppet master. “My name’s Styx and I’m a fucking pussy. Take after my cunt of a mamma.” Styx just stood there and let the fucker do it. Reaper laughed then pointed at me as he started walking out, Styx following behind. “Bull here tells you what the fuck to do. Do it, and I won’t have to kill you.” He shook his head. “And for fuck’s sake, cover up the fucking Nazi ink. Makes me wanna peel your skin off you when I see it, and I really don’t wanna lose a good mechanic. Try Hades shit as a cover-up.”

  Reaper walked out, and Bull got the fuck to work. He glanced up from the desk he’d slipped behind. “Be here tomorrow. Eight a.m.”

  Twenty minutes later I walked into the motel room we’d gotten last night. The door hadn’t even closed before Beauty was in my fucking arms, her legs around my waist as usual. Her lips crashed to mine. When she pulled back, she checked every inch of my face. “You okay?” she asked, her eyes wide. “They didn’t hurt you?”

  I smiled, then, gripping her ass, lowered us to sit on the bed. “I’m good, baby.” She let out a huge breath. I palmed her tight, full ass.

  “Shit, darlin’. I’ve been a wreck all day.” She laughed, but I could hear the shake in her voice. Fucking destroyed me.

  I kissed her, and she kissed me back like it was the last time I’d ever see her. “I got a job,” I said. She blinked at me, then nodded. I sighed and dropped my forehead to hers. “I ain’t a good guy, baby. I know you know it. But this is who I am. I ain’t ever gonna walk the straight and narrow. Klan, Hangmen—I belong in that fucked-up world.” When I looked up at her, I said, “You and me? We’ve been living in a fucking bubble for months. But it had to burst at some point. I was always gonna be dragged into this kind of fucking life.” My stomach pulled, pains shooting inside like I was being shivved. I decided to tell her everything. My past. What I’d done. Why I’d been sent to prison. Beauty was stock still with every word I spoke.

  Unable to read her, what the fuck she thought of what I’d done, I said, “You know it all. Now you gotta decide if you’re in.” I held her tighter, just in case it was the last time. “You’re good, Beauty. You can go somewhere. Get a better man. You need to decide—”

  “You,” she said before I’d even finished. “I choose you. You’re not the man you used to be.” She straightened her back. “I get you ain’t ever gonna walk the straight and narrow. May do bad shit again. But I’m not a pussy, Tank. I got this. Got you. I can live this life.”

  A smile tugged on my lips at the determination in her eyes. Then it fell. “If the Klan find out I got a job with the Hangmen, it could cause shit.” I paused. “Real shit.” I shook my head. “There could be a hit on me. I ain’t stupid. If the Klan think I’ve joined the Hangmen, it could put a huge fucking target on my head.” My stomach sank. “Could put one on you too.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to fucking breathe. “It isn’t safe to be with me. Beauty . . . I don’t think—”

  “Don’t,” she snapped. She put her hands on my cheeks. “Don’t fucking try to make my decisions for me. My psycho mamma tried to do that to me. I sure as shit won’t have my man do it too.” She rolled her hips, her pussy running along my cock. Her lips went to my ear. “I’m in. And I can handle myself.” She dragged her lips along my cheek until they hit my lips. “I got you, darlin’. ’Til the end.” She crushed her lips to mine. “Now shut the hell up so I can fuck you. All that worrying has made me hungry for your cock.” I laughed when Beauty pushed me down to the bed and in a couple of seconds had my zipper down. My cock out and down the back of her throat.

  Bitch wasn’t going anywhere.

  Chapter Four

  Beauty

  Two months later . . .

  The compound was massive. I clutched Tank’s waist as he rode through the gate. We came to a stop outside a building with a huge-ass picture of Hades and Persephone on a wall. I’d been doing some reading up.

  I wouldn’t let Tank see my nerves as I heard the music blasting through the walls. When I turned my head, some young guy with long blond hair was fucking some girl up against the wall. Screwing her in the open where anyone could see.

  Tank got off the bike and took my hand. He smiled when he followed my gaze, like it was nothing out of the ordinary. “You ready?” The guy who was fucking groaned, clearly coming, then stood off the wall and fastened his zipper.

  “Tank,” he said and flicked up his chin. His blue eyes fell on me. “Sweet cheeks.”

  “Ky,” Tank greeted, then pointed at me. “Beauty. My old lady.” Ky lit up a smoke and came over to us.

  “Beauty.” He looked at my chest. I was wearing red leathers and my favorite black tank. “Nice tits.”

  My head cocked to the side. I gestured at the wall he’d just been fucking against. “Nice technique.”

  Ky fucking blinded me with a beautiful smile, then pointed at Tank. “She’s a keeper. Spots real talent when she sees it.” He strutted off back inside, but called back, “You ever get sick of our ’roided-up Nazi mechanic here, you give me a call. You’ll be creamin’ more than you’ve ever creamed in your life.”

  “Good to kno
w,” I said, and he disappeared through a door. I turned to Tank and raised an eyebrow.

  “Ky Willis. VP’s kid. Resident slut.”

  I stared at the door he’d just gone through. “Fuck. That kid’s prettier than me. Bastard.”

  Laughing, Tank threw his arm around my shoulders. “Stick to me tonight. I ain’t patched in. That means you’re free pussy. But I know all the brothers. They see you with me, they shouldn’t try anything.”

  I nodded. Tank had told me some of the club rules. It was a different world here. I’d never been to a Saturday at the club before. But over the last couple of months Tank had grown closer to the men here. I wasn’t stupid. I knew he secretly wanted to be patched in. Knew he wanted to become a Hangmen prospect. I had no fucking idea about this club or what Reaper was looking for in a brother, but I couldn’t imagine it wouldn’t happen for Tank at some point. If they could get past the fact he was ex-Klan, that is.

  Making me the old lady of a Hangman.

  I knew I needed to prove myself tonight too.

  Tank held me tighter as we entered the clubhouse. My feet faltered a little when the door to the bar opened and I took in the scene. The air was thick with smoke, music pounding from the speakers. Hangmen were scattered all over the room, most with their hands and mouths busy with almost-naked—and some fully naked—women writhing all over them. “You okay?” Tank asked in my ear.

  I nodded. But shit . . . I wasn’t sure I was.

  “Tank!” A voice cut through the noise. A mountain of a man with long black hair and tribal tattoos all over his face and body was waving us over. Bull. I knew by looking at him that this was who Tank worked with. Tank didn’t say much, but I knew he considered Bull a friend. I wasn’t sure if Bull felt the same. Wasn’t sure if any if these men could ever truly get over Tank’s Klan past.

  Tank led us through the crowd. Suddenly, two men were in front of us. I despised one on sight. “Reaper,” Tank greeted. His arm tightened around my shoulders. “Big Poppa,” he said to the other guy.