I spit the blood that pools in my mouth out onto the concrete floor. It’s covered with some sort of hay or straw. It’s the only warmth I have in this shed, providing me with a bit of protection from the chilliness the concrete gets when the sun goes down. These people have yet to tell me why I was taken. I have my suspicions, but I’m not a stupid woman. I won’t give them an inch because they’ll take a mile if I give them the opportunity.
I yank my hands down angrily, attempting to pull at the chains which tie my hands to a metal bar above my head. Outraged can’t even describe the type of wrath I feel. I did everything to change parts of my past. I spoke to the right people, found a way to change my name and escaped a hell I never thought I’d be free from.
If anything, I assumed I’d be his next victim, so, twenty years ago I mustered up the courage to run and I got out of his sights. Sixteen, naïve and scared out of my mind I did what I thought would give me a chance at a normal life. Turns out, you can’t ever escape your past. One way or another it will come chasing you down.
In this case, I’m not entirely sure what has chased me down. It doesn’t really matter who. They’re all cut from the same cloth. I refuse to speak to these bastards. I would rather get beat versus saying a word.
There was a man who came in once before. He was older, with gray hair but that wasn’t what made me remember him. It was the deep lines across his face. Almost looking like scars but I don’t think they were. If I had to guess, I’d say those were from a rough life. It happened during the day, so I was able to see a leather vest sort of thing. Everyone who came in with him looked at him as though he was their boss. The men who come in here to hit, kick, beat and pry my teeth out with plyers are simply thugs.
Even though I’m desperate for answers, I won’t get any from them.
The old picket door to the shed comes flying open, “Wakey, wakey bitch.” One man tells me as he comes barreling in. For the first time since I’ve been here, there aren’t others that come with him. I recognize his voice, being one of the cruelest men I’ve ever come into contact with. He’s the one who snickered, cackled and laughed as I screamed when his buddy yanked three of my teeth out earlier today . . . or at least, I think it was today.
He takes his steps in a rushed way, hands heading toward my arms. The clicking of metal tells me he has a key and he’s trying to get me out of these cuffs. Part of me wants to ask what’s going on, but I remain quiet. I haven’t talked to these guys since I’ve been here, why would I start now? Not like he’d respond anyway.
The second my hands are free I drop to the floor on my knees. I’ve been chained up for far too long, my body is exhausted. My arms feel like numb logs attached to my body, while my legs burn from standing on them for so long.
He grabs me by the back of my head, yanking my hair with his fingers until I’m somewhat standing. “You better fuckin’ walk, ignorant cunt. Make it quick.” Every part of his tone tells me something isn’t right and as I walk out the door of the shed, I see various figures running toward the other, some have guns while others have knives. It’s so bright, but my eyes adjust after a few moments.
I see these figures are people, but as I look at what they’re wearing I see there’s a distinctive difference between the two. They both have leather vests on, but a couple have a skeleton in some sort of outfit with a weapon. I make out an angry bear on the back of the other vests and think I’m putting this together when I’m thrown to the ground.
The cool metal of a gun is placed to my head and the man who freed me snarls in my face. “Listen up ‘cause I sure don’t feel like repeatin’ myself. If it were up to me, I’d put a bullet through your fuckin’ brain, but Prez don’t want that. Apparently, you’re useful to the club. The only use I see in you is for fuckin’ but even that’s a stretch with the way you reek.”
Yeah, I only reek because I haven’t been able to shower. He places the same hand that was just on the back of my neck to the front of my throat and squeezes. As he does this, I see a glimmer flash across his eyes— he’s enjoying this.
On his vest it reads Rascal, Vice President. Rascal’s grip tightens on my neck and pressure takes over me. No matter how hard I try to breathe, I can’t manage to get a breath in. Bringing my hands to his, I try to pull it off my neck but can’t get his grip to loosen. I just need to take in one breath, but I fear it’s too late as everything starts to get blurry.
Chapter One
And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul
~ John Muir
Bull
Present Day
It’s a new year and with it comes new trials and tribulations. Or at least, that’s my view on it. Hawk and Raven left with Frank about three weeks ago for their move to Vegas. It was sad to see him leave again, but we all knew it was the best decision for him. Even though I miss him, I’m beyond happy he found Raven.
Hawk and I have an interesting friendship. We fight like cats and dogs but at the end of the day we’ll always be here for each other. He’s practically family, considering I barely have any left. He has his own issues even though his family is picture perfect from the outside. He grew up in the south somewhere if my memory is serving me correctly. One of the reasons we became such good friends is because his family had been avid enlisters in the United States Marine Corps.
I even had my own time in the Marines, moving into Special Forces and gave this great country ten years of my life. From the point I was eighteen to twenty-eight I was a proud member of MARSOC, until my accident. After I spent a year going through a couple surgeries and intense physical therapy, not to mention mental and behavioral therapy as well. When I was right as rain I came back to Montana where I was born and raised, joining the Reapers MC.
My Aunt saw how much I was struggling and recommended I reach out to Cracker, who also had his time in the Marines and was discharged after an injury. The day I met Cracker my entire life changed. I had lost all hope, motivation and drive until that conversation with him. He introduced me to Fist and within the year I was prospecting for the club. Now I’m thirty-four and here we are.
January came too soon if you ask me. We all needed some fuckin’ time after the shit we went through. Hell, we all need a damn vacation. “Never seen you wear such a smug look,” Shiloh mutters, walking into the Monroe family kitchen. She’s one of the few clubwhores we have left, but the most prominent. If I were an outsider, I would take this girl for an ol’ lady. She’s classy as hell if you look at her from the outside, but man does she fuck like a slut. I would know. I’ve sunken my ship in her harbor quite a few times in the past. Not lately, though. Just haven’t been in the mood for company with all this grief floating around in the air.
“Have a lot on my mind is all,” I comment back, digging my fork into the over easy eggs I made for breakfast. I take a bite and Shiloh puts a hand on her hips, cocks a brow and I suck in a deep breath knowing what’s coming.
“You men are so good at deflecting, not wanting to talk about shit. It’s pretty damn frustrating if you ask me.”
Rolling my eyes, I say the same thing I always do when Shiloh gets on this high and mighty talking is better bullshit, “How about we cut to the chase like we always do? Hmm? What’s botherin’ you?”
Shiloh takes a seat at the small kitchen island in Fist’s house, sighing dramatically. “Oh, thank goodness you asked. I couldn’t keep this in any longer!”
Shiloh is one of those women who are creatures of habit. The type who you know are going to act in a certain way and you could write the shit that comes out of their mouths. Only, I can’t write this. “I’m the only one left now.”
Squinting my eyes, I need more information. “What?”
“I’m the only clubwhore left at this charter, Bull. Blossom got her ass kicked out and I’m the only one left. I feel . . . so out of place. Every other woman is either a Monroe or an ol’ lady and then here I am.”
Shiloh steals a piece of my bacon before I can b
link, causing me to grumble. “I’ve killed men for less.”
“Yeah, and I’m sad . . . and hormonal and stuff.”
“Stop using your women problems to justify your mood. We’re all goin’ through it right now, sweetheart. A lot of stuff is changing. People are leaving, while others are coming. It’s a fuckin’ mess . . . but regardless we’ll get through it.”
Shiloh nods, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m anxious is all.”
“There’s no need to be, Shi.” I call her by the nickname I gave her after I stopped screwing her. Shiloh is a great woman, but on my end I felt like she was more useful to me as a friend versus a piece of ass. Lots of dudes fuck their friends but I’ve never been the type. They love to say women catch feelings however in my case it’s me.
“Bull . . . I’m not happy where I am. I never thought the day would ever come but I can’t keep doing what I am with Zorro, Axel and Grim. Fuck me, but I love them all. I just can’t ever make them choose and I can’t . . . be polyamorous anymore. We’ve never had an official title in any sense, but we’ve been together. I think it’s adding to why I’m so confused and feel so down.”
I eat my last piece of bacon before Shiloh swipes it from me. She’s not talking about any light shit here. It’s pretty heavy, and no doubt all of them will end up with broken hearts. “Shi, you have to do what’s right for you. You can’t worry about other people. I know you are though, because . . . shit, you’re one of the sweetest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. You need to be honest with them and confess how you feel. Out of curiosity, what do you want?”
Shiloh brings her hand to her face, rubs it over her mouth and shrugs her shoulders. “I want what every woman wants, Bull. For a man to love me enough to claim me. While I know they have love for me, they don’t have the type of love I deserve, so I need to step away from it.”
I nod my head, proud of my friend for demanding what she wants. So many others don’t have the courage to do so.
Chapter Two
The difference between ordinary and extraordinary is that little extra
~ Unknown
Bull
The day passes quickly and before I know it the sun has gone down and it’s right around dinner time. The door comes flying open and Zorro shoots a glare at me the second he’s taken a step in the house. I’ve never been a confrontational type of man, but I’m not gonna swallow my tongue on this one. “Wanna tell me what’s got a bug up your ass?” I ask, not thinking about the conversation I had with Shiloh earlier. Part of me is wonderin’ if she went ahead and broke it off with them.
“Heard you and Shiloh had a chat,” He hisses, abruptly shutting the front door behind him.
I nod, standing up from the couch. “Yeah, we did. What’s it to you?”
He puts his hands together, cracking his knuckles and I sense tension thicken in the room. As I look into his eyes I see a flash of something, signaling me to move and thank God I do because his fist comes swinging in my direction. Instinctively, I put my hands up, put them on his shoulders and knock him back a few feet. “Dude, what the hell?” I snap, not understanding why he’s so pissed. If anything, I thought he’d be upset. There’s no reason for him to go throwing punches.
“I don’t think there’s any coincidence between Shiloh talkin’ to you and then tellin’ me she doesn’t want me anymore. How long have you been goin’ after my girl?”
Raising my brows, I throw my hands up in a manner which suggests I’m surrendering. “Z,” I’m hopeful calling him by his nickname will help the situation. “I might’ve had my time in Shiloh’s bed, but it’s not like that, and it hasn’t been that way for a really long time. I don’t want to kill the trust she has in me brother, otherwise I’d lay it down for you so you’d understand where she’s comin’ from.” I confess, wanting to help him. I can’t though. It wouldn’t be right for me to meddle in someone else’s private business.
Zorro takes a step back, throws his hands on his head and paces. “I don’t understand any of this. I asked her a couple months ago if she was still happy with the arrangement we had, and she told me yes. Now she’s changed her mind? Fuck, she didn’t even give me the chance to figure anything out.”
I tilt my head to the right, knowing Zorro is gonna hate what’s about to come out of my mouth. “Z, Shiloh is allowed to change her mind. Don’t shit yourself, though. You and I both know you won’t ever be the settling down type. It’ll take a certain type of woman for that and Shiloh wouldn’t have ever been it for you. I know you care about her man, but she needs to be happy. If she wasn’t happy then take it as a blessing. She can start to figure out what she wants and you’re off the leash.”
Zorro scoffs, “You don’t know shit, Bull. Shiloh could’ve been that girl for me. I guess now we’ll never know.”
I shake my head, not believing a word he’s saying. “No, if she was you would’ve made her your ol’ lady a hell of a long time ago. Don’t do this. Don’t say she’s more important than she actually is to make yourself look like the victim here.” It pisses me off more than anything else. Zorro isn’t a bad guy, and while I know he’s emotional and distressed right now it doesn’t make anything better.
He gives me a look which tells me he wants nothing more than to splatter my face up against the wall. It won’t do him any good, though. I’ll put his ass straight in the ground before the motherfucker can even touch me.
Zorro opens his mouth like he’s going to say something when the door comes open. In walks Hammer, clad in full on winter gear. You’d think this man had never been in snow all his life. Fuck, he grew up here too. If my eyes aren’t deceiving me he’s got on three different beanies, a winter coat and two pairs of pants. Lord knows how many socks he’s got on too.
“Has a snowflake ever touched your black ass?” Zorro laughs at the sight of him.
“Sure it has, the night I came back from fuckin’ your Latina mamacita.” Hammer shoots back at him. Everyone here knows Zorro is bi-racial. His mother was an immigrant from Mexico and his father lives in Canada now if memory serves me correctly.
Both of them break out into laughter. “I’m not even gonna reply to that shit. You seen Fist around? Better yet, has he showered?” What’s hysterical right now is Hammer asked if he’s seen Fist. There was a time when you could smell his rank ass from a mile away. He hasn’t gotten much better, but there have been small improvements in his mood over the last couple weeks. Slowly he’s coming out of his room a bit more and last night he even sat and ate with a few of us. He didn’t say shit, but he showed up.
I think we’re all at the point where we hope Fist will be like his old self. Only, that will never happen. He’s experienced indescribable losses within a short amount of time. It would fuck with any man’s head. Since Zane has stepped up to be our interim Prez I can’t help but wonder if Fist will take the gavel back before he hands it over to his eldest son. Personally, I think Fist is the best leader I’ve ever had throughout my entire life, but he isn’t when he’s like this. When he’s stuck in this deep rut of depression.
“Why do you need to see Fist, shouldn’t you be seeing Zane?” I question.
Hammer nods, “Yeah. Zane told me since things are settling down and are turning into a new normal for us all that we’ll have an official ceremony for me bein’ a prospect. He said with everything that was going on it slipped past his mind. I know Zane is our Prez, but I wanna know what the old man thinks. If right now isn’t a good time, we don’t have to do it.”
I take a couple steps toward Hammer and slap my hand on his shoulder, “Brother, we’re going to do this for you. I respect how you want to go to Fist, but Zane is our Prez. If you go above his head to his dad, he won’t take it kindly. It’ll look like disrespect, not to mention it’ll fuck with the confidence he has being new in this position.”
“Are you guys certain? I mean, so much has happened lately.”
“Bull is right. We need something to celebrate right now.” Zorro
adds.
“Well, we’ve got a couple things to celebrate. Blackjack’s been running around telling everyone how he and Ashley are expecting another baby.”
Well, it’s about damn time we get some good news around here.
Chapter Three
I was not made to give up
~ The Soul & Book Club
Alexa/Lola
I wake to the unbearable scent of my own urine in the room I’ve been stuck in over the past few months. You’d think I’d be able to build up a tolerance to it, but I haven’t been so lucky.
My days are annoyingly repetitive. Although, I’d consider myself lucky being held here versus in the shed. There are two tiny windows in the cold, damp basement I’m stuck in. Sometimes if it’s super sunny outside it comes through the window and provides a bit of warmth on my skin. I long for those days, craving them more than someone stuck in the desert craves a drink of water. It’s freezing down here.
When their location was being raided a few months back I couldn’t figure out what was happening. All I saw were men who looked very similar fighting the other side. Being brought here, thrown down the stairwell and locked in this jail so to speak has given me an advantage. I know things about the people who have held me.
They’re what’s left of the Bears MC, which stands for motorcycle club. Essentially, they’re some of the lowest of the low. Their shitty floorboards creak above as they walk across them, having various conversations. One thing I’ve noticed is how they never discuss anything stupid when I hear them. Every single time it has some importance. I’ve wondered if above me they have some sort of meeting chamber, but I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to figure it out.
Chaos: A Reapers MC Boxset Page 31