Chaos: A Reapers MC Boxset

by Elizabeth Knox

“So, want to tell me who you are?” I ask, curious to know why these men in the Reapers MC want to lend a helping hand to a woman they don’t know.

  “Sure, I’m Blackjack but you already know that. I’m the interim VP of the Reapers MC.”

  “VP?” Some of my colleagues are different types of criminal profilers who would be more aware of what his terminology means but I’m not one of them. I’m a psychological profiler, studying why people do what they do, analyzing data of killings and tack on diagnoses of what type of mental attribute may come into play in their acts of violence.

  “Vice President. I’m the club’s second in command.”

  “Okay, so answer this for me. Why did you rescue me?”

  Blackjack gives me a blank stare before answering, “I’m not gonna hide shit from ya. You’ve been through enough and not being truthful doesn’t seem right. A government official asked us to help locate you. She knew we had some issues with the Bears, who had you locked up down there, and figured we might be open to causing some chaos. The agent needed you out and we needed to find the Bears. The only thing is we got a tip telling us where you guys might be and we drove out here. I don’t even think the agent knows we grabbed ya.”

  An Agent. I have connections in various offices and wonder who my guardian angel could be. I decide to be transparent as well. “I work for a government agency. Was it Kristie?” Kristie and I met when she was transferred out to the Salt Lake City field office of the FBI. When I worked in a physical office that’s where I was assigned. Since being on my leave of absence I came back out to Montana. As a child I had lived just outside of Billings until I was four or five, that’s when my family moved to a more remote area.

  “No, her name is Williams.”

  Amanda? Why the hell would Amanda want to help me? Amanda Williams works for the ATF and is an arch nemesis of mine so to speak. There are times where she’s stepped on Kristie’s toes, or vice versa. It doesn’t make sense. Not unless somehow she’d be able to get a conviction from the Bears. “Did something happen to warrant the ATF’s involvement in seeking you out?”

  Blackjack gives me a curt nod. “Yes, our clubhouse burned to the ground. The cause was arson and Grizzly was behind it. One of our own died in that fire.”

  “Jesus Christ. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you. Saffron was one of the good ones. Anyway, I guess it doesn’t really matter who it was. One way or another you got out. At the end of the day that’s what matters, right?” Blackjack states.

  “Yes, you’re right.”

  Since I have Kristie on my mind I’m realizing she had a good friend who was in an MC. Ellen? No . . . Eleanor? No, that’s not it either. Ellie? No. God, why can’t I remember what her name is? She used to be an active field agent and lived in Cincinnati with Kristie. I remember her so vividly because she told me her lawyer fiancé was cheating on her with someone in his office. Apparently her friend walked in, threw her ring at him and went on another assignment. Only it didn’t go as planned. The woman ended up falling for her target. He was the leader of a motorcycle club, similar to the Reapers from the looks of it.

  Ah, her name is Elena! She fell for the head honcho in charge. Kristie had told me how she didn’t believe Elena when she said he was one of the good guys, but she kept an open mind because she knew Elena had a good head on her shoulders and an amazing heart. For my own sake I hope it’s the same with the Reapers.

  The door comes open and exposes Bull who has two paper bags in his left hand. He’s also holding a drink tray in his right hand as he ventures forward. “Figured you’d want a milkshake too, but I didn’t know what type to get. So I got strawberry, vanilla, mint chocolate chip and chocolate.”

  He tosses one of the bags at me from across the room and I catch it, open it up and shove my hand down inside. The scent of melted cheese and seasoned beef hits me hard causing me to salivate ferociously.

  Unwrapping the cheap paper I take a huge bite of the burger and allow the deliciousness to flood over my senses. I forgot just how good cheese was and boy I’ve missed it so much. Before I realize what I’m doing I’ve eaten the first burger and have already swallowed half of my second before Bull comes up to me, kneeling at the edge of the bed.

  “Darlin’ you need to slow down. I know you’re hungry but you have to go at a decent pace. Otherwise you’re going to get—” Bull doesn’t even have to finish his sentence because nausea strikes me hard and within a second I’m vomiting my stomach contents onto his chest.

  This can’t be real. Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.

  Chapter Twelve

  True power is sitting back and observing everything with logic. True power is restraint. If words control you that means everyone else can control you. Breathe and allow things to pass.

  ~ Unknown

  Bull

  Blackjack cackles like this is the funniest thing he’s ever seen in his god damned life and meanwhile I’m trying not to gag from the foul odor coating my body. I feel the vomit soaking into my t-shirt and jeans. All I want to do right now is get a hot shower and wash this puke off my body.

  “I am so sorry.” Alexa mutters in a whisper. She doesn’t even look at me when she apologizes, staring down at the floor instead. I can’t say I blame her. I’d be embarrassed too if roles were reversed.

  “It’s alright. You’ve been through a hell of a lot,” I say and then walk over to the sink. Turning on the warm water to something semi-hot I run a washcloth underneath it, open the bottle of complimentary mouth wash sitting on the counter and grab the plastic wrapped cup beside it. I go back over to where Alexa is seated on the bed and unwrap the cup along the way, pouring some mouthwash in it and hand it to her. She gargles hopefully not taking offense to me bringing this over and spits it out in the cup. I return to the sink and dump the used mouthwash from her cup, tossing the cup in the waste can beneath the counter and pick the hot washcloth up.

  It isn’t hot enough to burn, however there is a bit of steam coming from it. I ring it out, allowing the excess water to go down the drain and approach her once again. She stares at me with her dark chocolate brown eye and it’s like we’re speaking a silent language. With her look I can tell she’s scared yet trusting at the same time. I don’t want this woman to fear me. Hell, I don’t want her to be scared at all. All I want is to be able to help. So, I take the washcloth and press it against her lips, wiping her chin and span down to the left side of her jaw.

  She no longer has a spec of grime on her where I’ve taken the cloth against her skin. In fact, she leans her face into my hand as I continue to wipe her clean. I continue to her cheek, over next to her eye and her forehead, sure to get every spec of blood that I can and do the same to the right side. When I’m done I can fully see the alabaster skin underneath all the grime. Alexa looks just like one of those porcelain dolls with her fair complexion.

  “I knew you shouldn’t have gotten her a burger.” Blackjack teases, breaking the trance between the two of us.

  Alexa giggles lightly, “Yeah, I’m now regretting not asking for something lighter like chicken noodle soup.”

  “It’s fine. Shit like this happens. I’ll go get you some soup after the nurse practitioner gets here. How does that sound?”

  For the first time since I’ve seen her the woman smiles, reminding me of a little kid who you’ve just told can get some ice cream. The amount of innocence and hope coming through is enough to cause me to grin back at her. “I would love that. Thank you, Bull.” She looks back to the ground, only this time I’m not really sure why.

  “My pleasure,” No sooner as I finish speaking and there’s a knock on the door. Blackjack walks over while I have a hand on my Glock just in case whoever’s on the other side isn’t a friend.

  Blackjack puts his eye to the peephole and the knocking gets louder. “Holy hell. If you don’t open this darn door right now I’m going to leave you to deal with your own problems. It’s too cold for this shit!” A woman’s voice hollers.
My guess is this is the nurse.

  I watch as he opens the door and we’re exposed to a tan, brunette woman. She has a curvaceous body. You know, the type where every man from a mile around will come runnin’ fuckin’ each other up to get a piece of that. All I can wonder now is how this woman knows the Corrupt Kings MC.

  The sassy chick rolls her eyes as she walks in with some sort of medical bag, shutting the door firmly behind her. “You are all the same, I swear.”

  She comes over to where I’m standing a few feet away from Alexa and glares at me with all her might. Cocking a brow, she speaks up. “I don’t know what the heck happened to you, but for the love of God please back up. You stink.”

  Raising my hands up in surrender I give the woman some room, watching as she opens her bag and looks over Alexa. “Oh, you poor thing.”

  “Are you gonna tell us your name?” Blackjack asks the woman.

  She turns her head back, “I’d rather not but knowing you bikers,” she spits out the word bikers like we’re toxic as fuck. “All you’re gonna do is annoy me until I do. So, I’m Cheyenne. Now, will you let me work?”

  Blackjack and I share the same look. I bet we’re both wondering where the Corrupt Kings got this one. She’s certainly not personable and her bedside manner seems to be crap. Her patients probably hate her.

  “Blackjack, I’m gonna go get a shower real quick. You good watching Alexa for a while?”

  He nods, “Yeah, sure thing. When you get out of the shower I’ll go grab her some decent food. Something that won’t make her sick.”

  “And you’ll grab whatever else I put on the list for you too.” Cheyenne hisses out, glaring at Blackjack.

  Yep, this is definitely my cue to go hide in the bathroom. At least I’ll be safe there.

  Chapter Thirteen

  War does not determine who is right. It determines who is left

  ~ Unknown

  Alexa/Lola

  I’ve never seen two grown men want to make themselves scarce more than these two in my entire life. Bull went into the bathroom to wash my disgusting vomit off his chest and out of his beard. I don’t know if he noticed a few specks in there . . . but I saw them. Poor guy. Ugh. Meanwhile Blackjack went outside the door for a smoke.

  Cheyenne grumbled and told him to get lost, giving me the impression she likes to work in privacy. She shuffles through her bag and I see her pull out some gauze, alcohol and a few other things. I’m not a medical professional so the hell if I know what they are. “I’m Alexa,” I start off saying but awkwardly grow quiet. Cheyenne has an intense personality and I freeze like I’ve never spoken to anyone before.

  “I’d say it’s nice to meet you but I’d be lying. I loathe meeting people this way more than anything else. Usually whenever my brother calls in a favor it’s never a good thing. I was proven right again today. Only, most of the time the guys I’m stitching up don’t look as bad as you.”

  I want to take offense, but I don’t. Obviously Cheyenne’s brother must call her in to help out every now and again. “I appreciate you coming to help, so thank you.” If this is going to be a miserable experience for her I want her to know how grateful I am for what she’s doing.

  She shrugs, “As long as I’m helping someone I don’t care. Usually I’m sewing up flesh wounds or popping things back into sockets. I haven’t seen a woman in your physical condition in . . . three years at least. What the hell happened?”

  I don’t owe her anything, nor do I need to tell her what I’ve gone through. Although if I don’t say a thing the awkward silence will continue to fester between us both and I really don’t want to have to go through that. “Do you want the long story, or the short one?”

  She cackles, “Seeing as I’m gonna be here a while you should probably go with the long one.”

  “Alright. I was kidnapped by men who kept me in a storage shed hanging up by my wrists for weeks until they moved me to a basement. They questioned me about my father, wanting to know where he was. I don’t know the reasons why and I don’t care to know, but again his actions put me in danger and made me ridiculously uncomfortable. The bastards pulled out some of my teeth and did this,” I point to my missing eye. “Not to mention every time they’d hit me with a crowbar, their fists or whatever object was nearest to them. I woke up in this motel room not too long ago with Blackjack and Bull. They explained they were friends and their part in all this.”

  Cheyenne gives me an odd look, squinting her brows but raising them at the same time. “I don’t believe anyone are friends if they’re in an MC, Alexa. Maybe it’s because I’ve been burned on the other side of the tracks but if you ask me, only grief will come your way.”

  Something in the way she says it makes me think she’s been through hell and back just like me. Only I’m betting her circumstances were so much different. “I don’t mean to be a crass bitch, but I’m not the type who holds back what I think or how I feel. I love my brother, and I grew up looking at Boomer like he was an adoptive brother to me . . . but when his deadbeat dad came up out of the blue and dragged him into this life after being gone for years it was a slap in the face. After everything we did for him, all the pain he’d gone through because of that man. Fuck. It’s like it never happened. At least, it’s what Boomer wants everyone to think anyway. I steer clear of the club and never go there, but if he needs help from me I won’t say no. You don’t say no to family after all, even if you don’t believe in their life choices.”

  Wow. Times like this make me realize I’m not the only one with rough family shit. While mine might be on a completely different spectrum, I totally empathize with Cheyenne. “Boomer’s called on me a few times for situations like this, where women like you need my help. Honestly, I’d rather help you ladies versus the club. I feel like if I help the guys out there I’m condoning whatever they’ve done. Hell, I’ve seen shows like Sons of Anarchy. I know clubs like this aren’t the good guys. They’re vigilantes and will do whatever they damn well please.”

  “I don’t know enough about them to give my own opinion,” I state.

  “Yeah, well if you’re smart you’ll stay the hell away. From my experiences the only thing women who are close to these guys get are hurt and that’s if their enemies don’t use your life as a form of retaliation.”

  I didn’t see it clearly before, but Cheyenne has been through some shit. I can tell when a woman has some skeletons in her closet and she’s hiding something. My gut is telling me it has something to do with why she’s not a fan of people in an MC, but I won’t truly know unless I ask. I’m not a nosey person though and if she wants to tell me she will.

  I’ll just have to see if she feels like chatting anytime soon. If one thing’s for sure it’s that I like her. Somehow, for some odd reason I appreciate her attitude and sass. She doesn’t seem like a bitch to me. In all honesty she just seems human.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The first thing you should know about me is that I’m not you. A lot more will make sense after that

  ~ Unknown

  Bull

  I step out of the shower onto the towel I laid down on the floor before I got in and grab a fresh one off the rack. After I’ve dried my entire body I wrap the towel around my waist and wipe my hand on the mirror so I can see my reflection. My beard is a mess and of course I didn’t bring a comb. It’s not like we were planning on staying. Shoot. The fact I don’t have any clothes slaps me across the face like an unwelcome truth. What am I gonna do? I gave Alexa everything decent I had to wear when I pulled her out of that basement. Since she went and threw up all over the only clothes I had left I’m guessin’ I have no other choice than to wear this towel or let those two see me in my damn birthday suit.

  I contemplate staying in the bathroom the rest of the night but decide against it. Who in the fuck hides in a bathroom? Sure as hell not a grown ass man. I make sure the towel is wrapped tightly around my nether regions and open the bathroom door, going back into the motel room where the t
wo queen beds and dinky couch are.

  Alexa is sitting up against the headboard with ice on her leg again. Out of all her swollen areas her right knee is the worst. It looks like they hit her a few dozen times with a baseball bat if you ask me. “Where’s the bitchy chick?” I don’t bother saying her name.

  “Cheyenne left. She said I’d be fine and I was lucky.”

  “Wait. She left?” This has to be a joke. Surely she would’ve stuck around to tell us Alexa’s care regimen or something.

  Alexa nods, “Yes, she left. She told me to put some antibiotic ointment on my wound, explained since because the eye is gone and no additional muscle was cut I’ll be fine. You guys were smart when you put pressure on my eye supposedly. If you didn’t it could’ve been a lot worse.”

  Thank fuck for Blackjack is more like it. “That was all Blackjack. He was a medic in the Army and knows what to do when it comes to trauma.” As soon as we got her in the truck he had me drive while he took a t-shirt and applied pressure to her wound. It wasn’t bleeding badly so I had questioned him on it. He told me that the eye is a very delicate area and he didn’t know how deep Alexa was cut. By forcing weight on it, he was able to stop the bleeding and see if the wound was even worse than he imagined.

  “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, so thank you.” Alexa states as she keeps her eye trained on my own. But I notice the way her eye drifts down my chest to where my towel is and I wonder what is running across that mind of hers.

  “My pleasure.” I say, noticing how her eye drifts lower and I catch her raising her brows in shock. I already know what’s surprised her. It’s my prosthetic legs. “When I was enlisted in the Marines I got too close to a bomb and off my legs went.” I say in a joking manner, trying to lighten the mood.