“Sorry, honey,” comes a rough voice in my ear. It is the third biker, who has circled around and grabbed me. “This here is a private party. No one else gets invited.”
He slowly takes the phone out of my hand, casually tossing it over the bar. I cringe as I hear it crash down on the floor on the other side, but I am too scared now to say anything. This has suddenly gotten serious, and I am almost peeing in my pants with fear.
Those two guys are almost on Cam now, and although my brother is ripped and I know he can fight, no way does he get through these guys without taking a severe beating.
So I just start SCREAMING now, screaming for help, yelling for the police, shouting for someone to call 911. But in a moment I feel that third man’s hand over my mouth, and his hand is so goddamn big that he manages to hold my jaw shut from below so I cannot even try to bite him.
I stomp my boots, digging into his toes with my heels, but he just grunts and lifts me clean off my feet from behind. I struggle and flail in his arms, try to reach back and pull his hair, claw at his eyes, hit him in the balls or something. But he is holding me tight and moving his feet, and somehow I cannot manage to get a hold of him. It’s like he’s done this before—grabbed someone from behind and held them—and although I continue to struggle and whimper under his grasp, I get that sinking feeling again that this is turning real bad, really fucking bad.
“Let her go,” Cam is saying now, his eyes burning with a fury I haven’t seen in my brother before. “Fucking let her go. I’ll stay. We can work this out like men. She’s just a kid. Are you guys insane? Fucking LET HER GO!”
Cam just ROARS out those last few words, and I swear I see one of those men flinch at the raw anger that is pouring out of Cam now. My brother is red in the face, his fists clenched so hard that his knuckles are bright white. His knees are slightly bent, his feet a little bit apart, like a fighter getting ready to attack, and for a moment I am in complete admiration of my brother, completely sucked in by his presence, and, as disgusting as it sounds, ridiculously turned on by this sudden display of what I can only call dominance.
Yes, clear fucking dominance, and these men sense it too. They can see, just like I can, that there is a fire burning inside my brother, an animal alive within him, a beast that’s close to being unleashed. For a moment I almost WANT to see Cam take a swing at that first guy, breaking his jaw, perhaps knocking out a tooth. Maybe he kicks the other guy in the knee, shattering his kneecap, sending him down to the floor immediately. Then maybe Cam just goes to TOWN on them, kicking them in the head, the face, the stomach, making sure they learn that I am HIS property, that NO ONE touches his sister, his girl, his woman.
I close my eyes as I try to shake off these ridiculous thoughts. I am a bit drunk and messed up from the drama of what’s happening, but that can’t explain this weird passion I’m feeling. What is going on with me? No way Cam can take these four guys, and of course I don’t really want to see him even try. No, I just want to get out of here, back to our home, where it’s just me and Cam, the two of us in his room again, bodies pressed up against each other, the feeling of his warm breath against my face, the ecstasy of his hardness in the wet space between my legs.
What the hell is wrong with me, I think again as I realize that somehow through my fear there is a deep arousal building in me. What kind of a freak am I?
But I am snapped out of my haze when I see that the fourth guy, the biggest guy, the guy who seems to be the leader, has finally stepped forward and is walking up to Cam.
Cam holds his ground, and the man stops very close to him. Cam is burning with energy right now, but he is also in control of himself in a way that I find beautiful. Complete dominance and control, over himself and his body. And now, without any reason, I think of how Cam ROARED in my ear, “When I ask you to do something, you fucking DO IT!” and I almost swoon as I find myself yearning for Cam to exercise that dominance over me, over my body.
Now I can see that the leader has told his two guys to back off, and I can see that he is talking to Cam. I cannot hear what they are saying, but I know that the only reason this situation hasn’t already escalated to the point where Cam is a bloody mess on the floor and I am stripped naked on the bar is the way Cam is carrying himself right now. Even animals can sense when a true alpha is on the scene, right? And that’s what’s happening here. Somehow I can feel how these rough bikers are responding to the dominant, primal energy that has found its way to the surface of my brother’s being. Yes, these men are pack animals, aren’t they. And their instinct is to show respect to an alpha, even though they could overpower him with numbers.
Oh, Cam, I think as I feel the grip on me loosen, though my mouth is still clamped shut. Oh, Cam. My brother. My alpha. My man. Oh, shit, Cam.
14
CAMERON
“Oh, shit,” I mutter as I see this big guy, the guy who was at the bar, walk up to me. I am not scared for myself in the least. I am ready to go, ready to strike. I will break bones if I have to, gouge out their fucking eyes if it comes to that. But although I am burning with a primal rage, my body rocking with adrenaline, there is still a part of me that is in complete control, absolutely aware of my surroundings, incredibly in tune with the situation.
Perhaps this is how an animal feels when it is cornered and it knows it will have to fight for its life, I think as I unfocus my eyes and take in the placement of the four men in the room. If it were just me and the four of them, I would have gone for it already, I know. But with that fourth guy holding Darcy like that . . . nope. No way. Stand down, Cam. The situation looks bad, but you throw a punch now and you’re done. They will put you down eventually, no matter how many punches and kicks you get in. You can take one of these guys for sure. Two, maybe. Three, with a little luck. Four—no fucking way. So stand down, Cam. Do what you have to do to get Darcy out of here safe. That’s your only goal. That’s all that matters.
The lead biker has told his men to hold off, and I stand my ground as he comes close. I look him directly in the eyes, with no hesitation, no fear, no insecurity. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my Darcy right now, nothing I wouldn’t give to make sure these motherfuckers don’t lay a finger on her, don’t even fucking breathe on her. She’s my sister, my girl, my woman. She’s fucking MINE!
The biker has picked up the patch from the floor, and now he holds it in front of my face. I don’t even look at it. I am just staring into his eyes, eyes that are bloodshot and wild, but somehow contain a faint glimmer of what I can only interpret as . . . what . . . respect?
“You know what this is?” the biker asks me now. It is the first time I have heard his voice, and I am surprised at how deep, clear, and resonant it is.
I give him the faintest of nods without breaking eye contact. I looked at that patch when we stood at the bar, and I recognized it as the insignia of an old outlaw MC that’s now defunct. I’ve been an MC geek for years now, studying the logos and insignias of all the American clubs, both sanctioned and underground, and although it took me a minute to remember, I’m pretty sure that it’s the old Guardians of Doom logo. Guardians of Doom, which gets shortened to G.O.D.
“It’s the old Guardians insignia,” I say to him, holding my voice steady. “Guardians of Doom. 1988-2001. They closed down in 2001.”
The man blinks now, almost like he is surprised that I know so much. But now he shakes his head. “Didn’t close down. Got merged into Vox Riders in 2001.” He smiles now, showing me teeth that are stained with nicotine, brown with the residue of beer. “Well, merged may not be the best word. Hostile takeover is more like it.”
The two other men close enough to hear grunt with laughter, and I feel like I am in a weird, surreal dream where I am about to be murdered by bad comedians. But the reality is too grim for me to lose focus, and I offer the smallest of smiles, the most subtle of nods. Keep him talking, I think now. As long as we’re talking,
there’s time, there’s hope, there’s a chance Darcy gets out of here just fine.
The man looks up and down at my jacket, touching a couple of the patches to get a better look. Then he grunts and looks back up at me. “Your jacket is clean,” he says. “Looks like it was part of a set with your girl’s jacket, so yours probably belonged to a G.O.D. rider too, but it’s clean. No insignia. No colors.”
I nod again, wondering where this is going. First impressions aside, these guys might be drunk and in need of a shower, but maybe they aren’t just a bunch of psycho-criminals who are just looking for an excuse to beat the crap out of me and then violate my sister. Maybe this truly is about the club, their pride, the implications of seeing that logo on an outsider’s jacket. And now a glimmer of hope is rising up in me. Maybe Darcy and I do walk out of here just fine. They just wanted to scare the shit out of us—which, I will admit, they’ve done a decent job of—but that’s all.
The big man nods now, taking a step back and to his left. “You’re clean,” he says now. “You can leave.”
I stare at the man for a moment, not sure if I believe him. But he looks serious, and so I finally break eye contact with him, turn, and look at my Darcy. She is still being held by that third asshole, and seeing her all wrapped up and scared makes me want to just fucking step up there and unload on that motherfucker’s face, break his nose, his jaw, his goddamn neck if I have to. But although Darcy is scared and uncomfortable, I can tell she isn’t hurt. And although this asshole is holding her close to him, he isn’t groping her tits or ass or anything like that. So just take your sister and walk away, Cam, I tell myself. Walk away.
“Come on, Darcy,” I say firmly. “We’re leaving.”
The man holding Darcy glances past me at the lead biker, and when I see that he isn’t letting Darcy go, I turn back to the lead guy.
“I thought you said we could leave,” I say to him in a calm, low voice.
“I said YOU could leave,” the man says. “But she stays. She’s our property now. That logo on her jacket makes her our property. You know how the Vox Riders work.”
I just stare at this guy, feeling the adrenaline pour into my bloodstream again. My mind is racing as I think about what to do. I could reach into my pocket for my phone right now. Maybe I manage to call 911 before these guys get to me and take the phone away.
I could also walk right out of this door and call 911. We’re pretty far out of town, but maybe there’s a police cruiser that isn’t too far. Still, best case it takes ten minutes for the cops to get here.
What else can I do? I could go outside, call 911, and then run to the nearby shops and restaurants, tell folks what’s going on, get a few guys and bust back in here. But the way this bar cleared out, I’m not sure how long it would take to convince a few guys to get into a fight with these mothers.
Regardless, if I walk out that door, Darcy is going to be alone in here for at least ten minutes or so before help arrives. They could leave out the back, disappear with her. Or worse, they could stay right here for those ten minutes. Alone with my sister for ten minutes. Ten minutes. A lot can happen in ten minutes. Too much can happen in ten minutes.
I turn back and glance at Darcy again. I look into her sweet eyes, wide with fear, completely focused on me, trusting that I will take care of her. No way I can walk out of here, I think as I look at her. It might be the logical thing to do, sure. But no way I’m going to do it. I’m not leaving her side for one goddamn second. Not one blink of an eye.
So I turn back to the lead guy, my jaw set, my eyes burning with a controlled determination. “I’m not going anywhere without my girl,” I say to him.
The lead biker just smiles now, and I am almost surprised. It’s like he was expecting me to say that, to stand my ground, to pass up the opportunity to walk outside. This guy may be a biker, but he’s not stupid. He knows I have a phone in my pocket. He knows that if I walked out the door, I’d be dialing 911 in an instant. Maybe he was planning to take my phone before letting me out, but it doesn’t seem like it. So what the fuck kind of game is this guy playing?
“I’m not going anywhere without my girl,” I say again as the biker keeps smiling.
“I know,” the guy says now. “I know you won’t leave without her. I can see it. You’re a dumb motherfucker who’s willing to take the beating of his life just because he’s too stubborn to leave his woman alone with us for five minutes before the cops get here. You know that the most logical thing to do is walk out that door and get help. You know that if you stay, it’s not going to change a thing. In fact it could get worse. You’re stupid, kid. Stupid and fucking crazy.”
I am shaking now, realizing that he is right. I am placing my sister in MORE danger by following my instincts and standing my ground. These guys could fucking knock me out, maybe even kill me. And then who calls the cops? Who gets help for my sister? If I walk out now, my sister goes through hell for ten minutes, but she’ll be safe after that. Besides, no way would these guys do anything serious if they knew the cops were on their way. How fucking stupid can I be? I should ABSOLUTELY walk out of here and call the cops instead of getting into a dick-measuring contest with these assholes.
“Stupid and crazy,” the biker says again, and now he walks past me, circling me as I slowly turn on my feet, my fists balling up again as I feel my fight rising.
“Yup, stupid,” the second biker says, and he is smiling now at my left.
“And crazy,” the third guy mutters, shaking his head and looking at the lead guy for a moment.
“What do you think, Mack?” the lead biker asks the guy who is holding Darcy. “You agree?”
“Hells yeah, man,” the guy calls out over my sister’s head. “Stupid as a motherfucker. And crazy as batshit.”
“Looks like we have a consensus, kid,” the lead biker says to me now. “You’re stupid and crazy. Just the right mix.”
I stare at this guy now, a strange feeling rushing through me as I see him step forward and extend his hand. Oh, my fucking lord. Is this what I think it is?
“Just the right mix,” the guy says again. “And so, on behalf of the club, I’d like to extend a formal invitation for you to join the Vox Riders.”
15
DARCY
I stare in complete astonishment as this filthy goddamn biker smiles and reaches out his hand to my brother. I could kinda hear what was going on, but I don’t really believe it. I wonder if I am still drunk, perhaps hearing things, seeing things, imagining things.
But now I feel the rough hands on my face slide off, and I gasp for air and spit onto the floor. My mouth tastes salty, like the grime from this man’s hand has seeped in somehow. Still, I am hugely relieved, and I feel my body tremble as I look back at this guy and then slowly step away from him.
I am about to just RUN over to Cam now, HURL myself at him, but my legs are weak and I hold on to a bar stool to steady myself as I blink away the dizziness in my head. My ears are pounding from the alcohol and the stress, but I feel okay, I think. Yes, I’m okay. Cam made it okay for me. Cam made it okay, somehow.
Now I watch the lead biker talk to Cam, and it all comes rushing back. Oh. My. God. These guys are asking Cam to join their club! That’s what all of this was about? Sort of a test? Maybe even part of an initiation? But why? They don’t even know Cam. Don’t you have to know someone in the club to get a chance to join?
I squint as I try to recall what I know about the Vox Riders. I was never an MC geek like Cam, but I spent years listening to him talk about it, spent hours sitting with him as he browsed the Internet and read up on all this shit on forums and underground websites—bylaws, rituals, rules. Cam was always too much of a loner to really want to join a club, but he loved reading about them, loved the idea, the culture, the weird rules and customs each outlaw club had, the scenes they were into.
And now it starts to come back
to me. Vox Riders. Vox Riders. Vox Riders. Started in the late 1990s. Made their name by providing security at nightclubs or strip-bars, maybe? A lot of MCs made money by hiring out their people to do security at events and concerts or whatever, so that was pretty normal. So what was different about the Vox Riders? Why does it stand out in my mind?
I look at the four bikers again, my eyes focusing on the leather and chains hanging from their jeans and jackets, the set of handcuffs on their logo . . . and now it hits me and I feel a shiver run up and down my spine. No, these guys don’t do security at regular clubs or bars. They do security at special underground events. Traveling events. The kind of events that change locations, sometimes taking place at hotels, sometimes at rented houses, sometimes out on farms. That kind of stuff also wasn’t unusual, but the reason I remember it is because of what happened that day when Cam told me about it all those years ago. Yes, my older brother, usually so quick to talk about everything he knew about the biker world, had clammed up and hesitated when I asked him what those initials meant. Yes, those four initials:
B.
D.
S.
M.
“What’s BDSM?” I had asked him in my twelve-year-old squeak when I saw the initials flash on his computer screen after I burst in unannounced to his room, like I often did in those days.
“Nothing you need to know about, sis,” he had said quickly, shutting the lid of his laptop as I crawled around behind him on his bed and hung over his broad, fifteen-year-old shoulders.
“Oh, come on, Cam! Tell me! This is about those Vox Spiders you’ve been reading about, right?”
“Vox Riders, sis,” he had said with a laugh.
I remember smiling. I knew it was Riders, but I said Spiders to get a laugh out of him.
“Vox Gliders,” I said, reaching over him and pawing at the laptop as he held my hands. “Dox Miders. Box Criders.”
Cam was laughing as I went on spouting nonsense, and finally he let go of my hands and threw me down on the bed. I remember landing flat on my back, breathless for a moment. I looked up and Cam was on top of me, and I giggled as I stared up at my big brother.
My Stepbrother, My Dom Page 6