Chaos

by J. C. Cliff

  The realization makes me understand how naïve I’ve truly been.

  When did I let myself become so gullible? Have I truly been so sheltered that I’m this susceptible to a man’s charms? Am I that desperate?

  Thinking back, I recall how charismatic I found him. There was no denying my attraction toward him either. From the moment I laid eyes on Blade, I wanted him. I was mesmerized by the entire package he represented.

  His arrogance.

  His crude mouth.

  His swagger.

  It was addicting and the opposite of everything I was used to.

  He swept me off my feet and charmed the pants off me and as a result, I overlooked the reality of who he was.

  A man who doesn’t blink an eye when a murder is committed. Someone who carries a gun.

  A person I’m sure has taken a life or two of his own.

  A biker.

  All those things are what make up the truth about Blade’s identity.

  I should’ve listened to Trish but I thought I had played things smart and proceeded with caution. I don’t understand how her husband ran a background check on Blade—Johnny, whatever his name is—and came up clean. I mean, the man didn’t have so much as a parking ticket on his record. It must’ve been tampered with. That’s the only logical explanation for why the gun-toting criminal is clean as a whistle.

  Corporate? Yeah, and I moonlight as an astronaut.

  The guy probably has committed more crimes than I have shoes, and my collection is pretty impressive.

  The sad part of this whole situation is that even knowing all this, I wouldn’t change a thing about tonight. I would still place the ad and I wouldn’t wish for a man in a three-piece suit to answer it. I’d hope and pray for Blade.

  How could I still be drawn to this man?

  How is it possible that I feel safe in his arms?

  I’m addicted to his touch and the way he looks at me, and if that doesn’t make me a fool, nothing ever will.

  Closing my eyes, the memory of tonight’s murder assaults me all over again, reminding me that the killers have my purse. They have access to personal things such as my bank information and my address. They even have my house keys and the key fob to my Mercedes. They have everything.

  Lost in thought, I don’t realize we’ve come to a full stop until the engine dies on the motorcycle. Lifting my head from Blade’s shoulder, I take in my surroundings and stare at the massive compound before me. It resembles something between a prison and an abandoned warehouse.

  My body trembles with both fear and anxiety as Blade dismounts. Turning to face me, he pulls off the helmet from my head and hangs it on the handlebars before extending his hand to me. Staring at it as if it’s a foreign object. I shake my head forcefully, not wanting to go into the building with him.

  I’ve watched documentaries on Netflix about biker gangs and I know what goes on in a place like this.

  There is no way in hell, I’m going in there.

  “Come on,” he coaxes, snatching a hold of my wrist. Giving me a tug, he tries to pull me off the bike, but I stand my ground and remain in place.

  “Damn it, Annmarie,” he growls. “You’re safe here. No one’s gonna touch you.” Stepping closer to me, he traces his thumb along my cheek and for a second, I’m transported back to earlier.

  Before the dead body.

  Before the blood.

  Before the mayhem.

  Before the chaos.

  Unable to find my voice, I swallow the thick lump in my throat. “I’ve got you, Ree,” he whispers. Closing the distance between us, he snakes an arm around my waist and I feel his breath against my ear. “Please trust me. I need to get you inside. and settled.”

  Robbing me of my choice, he lifts me off the bike. On instinct I wrap my arms around his neck and lock my legs around his waist. Carrying me across the lot, he sets me down on my feet as we approach the front door.

  “I need you to act cool,” he says, reaching for my hand. “No freaking out in front of these guys. Once I get you into my room, you can lose your shit, but in front of them I need you to act strong.”

  “Where are we?” I whisper, my voice hoarse from crying.

  Ignoring my question, Blade pulls open the steel door. Too exhausted to argue, I let him lead me inside and I’m engulfed by the heavy stench of stale cigarettes right off. My instinct is to pull the ends of my leather jacket up and over my nose, but I force myself not to and bite back a cough. We step further inside the building and weave our way into a large room. There’s scattered furniture everywhere and every piece has seen better days. To my left is an oversized wooden bar, fully stocked with bottles of all kinds.

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” a voice growls with anger at my right. Whipping my head around, I stare at a group of men dressed in leather sitting in the center of the room. They all stare at me with grim expressions on their rugged faces, making me feel very self-conscious.

  A man with light-green eyes leans back in his wooden chair and pierces me with a look. A cigar hangs from the corner of his mouth as he raises an eyebrow. He makes me so nervous, my heels shift across the worn floor and I look away.

  “What the fuck is this, Blade?” he bellows, causing me to jump a bit.

  “Not now, Rush,” Blade bites back as he tightens his grip on my hand.

  “Let’s get something straight, kid,” he growls. Blowing out a ring of smoke, he slams his hand against the table and narrows his eyes at Blade. “I call the shots around here and when you call me in the middle of the night, asking me to send a crew out to the middle of nowhere, you best be prepared to answer to me. Especially when you come prancing into my compound with a piece of ass.”

  Appalled by his vulgarity, a gasp leaves my lips as I ignore my fast-beating heart. Blade touches a hand to the small of my back, leans his mouth to my ear, and whispers, “Third door on the left.” Pointing a finger toward the long, narrow hallway, he gives me a push forward and encourages me to move, but I resist. Spinning around, I turn to face him and search his eyes for reassurances but find them blank. Reflecting back to earlier, I can’t help but think if any other man talked about me the way Mr. Green-eyes did, Blade would have broken his nose.

  “It’s all right, babe,” he whispers, turning his back to the men glaring at us. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he adds, “I’ll be right there.” Glancing over his shoulder, I peer at the bikers and decide I’m no match for them. They’ll chew me up, spit me out, and bury me next to the body at the beach.

  “Do you trust me?” Blade asks, drawing my attention away from the group of men. Clasping my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he forces me to meet his gaze.

  Out of everyone here, he’s the only one I trust.

  I have no idea why, but I do. Responding to him, I nod.

  “Then, trust me when I say it’s all good. Now hurry up and go, let me have a word with my brothers and I’ll be right in.”

  Brothers? They don’t look like brothers.

  “Okay,” I whisper, a bit reluctant as I turn toward the hallway. Wrapping my arms around myself, I ignore the men and walk past them. Finding the third door, I reach for the knob and pause. Seeking out Blade, I glance over my shoulder but he’s already out of sight.

  Sometime during the night, I lost my mind and the ability to think straight. It’s been hours since my last drink and I can’t blame my actions on the alcohol anymore. It’s as if I’ve stepped into an alternate universe.

  Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand falls from the door knob and I begin to creep down the hallway. At least I have enough common sense to remain hidden behind the wall as I strain my ears to listen to the conversation Blade is having with his so-called brothers.

  The distinct sound of a chair legs scraping against the wooden floor boards jars me for a moment and I lean away from the wall.

  “You better start talking,” the guy with the green eyes and piss-poor attitude demands, his tone h
arsh.

  “I’ll give you all the answers you need, but right now I need to get her settled,” Blade replies. “All you need to know is that whoever whacked that guy at the beach has all her personal information along with my fucking license plate number.”

  “Which means I have to put this whole fucking club on lockdown,” Green-eyes hollers. Wondering why he’s so angry and what the hell a lockdown is, I shake my head and continue to eavesdrop.

  “How long is the bitch gonna need to stay?”

  Bitch?

  I begin to fume at the mention of that name.

  “As long as I need to sort this shit out,” Blade fires back. I can sense the anger in his tone as he continues, “Did you not just hear what I said?”

  “Yeah, I heard, but that bitch ain’t the club’s problem.”

  Losing my last bit of sense, I charge forward, “You know what...” I sneer as I round the wall and make a beeline for Mr. Green-eyes. I walk right up to his misogynist ass, pointing my finger in his face as I let loose on him. “Fuck you,” I spew, balling my fists at my sides. “You’re right. I’m not your problem, and I’m damn glad for that. I just witnessed a murder. I’m distraught, tired and emotionally drained. If you call me a bitch one more time, I swear on everything holy, I’ll…I’ll…”

  Dammit.

  “You’ll what?”

  Unable to think an intimidating reply, I keep my mouth shut. My nostrils flare in anger as Mr. Green-eyes quirks an eyebrow and give me an amused look.

  “I’ll—” My words are cut off as Blade grabs me around the waist. Yanking me against his chest, my feet lift off the ground and I shriek.

  “You need to control the bitch,” Green-eyes says with a sinister grin.

  “And you need to control your mouth,” I snap back.

  “Hey… Stop it!” Blade bellows in my ear, startling me. I whip my head, expecting his order to be directed at the jerk calling me a bitch but his cold eyes are on me.

  “Surely you’re not telling me to cool it,” I say, pointing toward the mean bastard. “You’re okay with him calling me a bitch?”

  Blade doesn’t respond, and my heart sinks. Finding the last shred of pride I have left, I twist free of his arms. But he snatches me up again before I can move away.

  “Let me go!” I snarl, swatting his broad chest. Ignoring my attempts, he looks over my head at the bastard giving me grief.

  “Rush, cut her a break,” he orders, “she don’t know anything about Chaos, or who you are.”

  Cut me a break?

  “Cut me a break?” I shriek. “Who the fuck is he? Ghandi?”

  “Shut your trap for five minutes,” Blade hisses. “Just five fuckin’ minutes ‘til I get shit sorted.”

  “Get your bitch under control,” Rush warns again.

  Anger rolls through me and it takes every ounce of self-control not to spit in this creep’s face. Glaring between Rush and Blade, I sneer, “Don’t worry about it, I’m out of here.” I’ll find a way to get in touch with Trish, even if that means I have to beg on a street corner. She’ll come get me. I jerk my arms away from Blade’s fierce grip, but he doesn’t budge. “Let me go, you asshole!”

  The very second the words leave my mouth, I’m airborne. Hanging upside down with my stomach pressed against Blades shoulder, I grab hold of his belt as he stalks down the hallway.

  I guess I’m in trouble.

  There’s a surprise.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I am so fucking angry, I can’t see straight. Never in my life, have I ever had the urge to hit a woman but right now, I want to bend Ree over my knee and go to work on her ass. I know her emotions are all over the place, that she’s still reeling from the shock of tonight’s events, but Jesus fuck, the woman needs to get a grip on herself or she’s going to get us both killed.

  Opening the door to my room, I maneuver us in, trying to avoid bumping her head against the doorframe as she flails around like a fish out of water. Although, it might be what she needs, maybe it’d knock some sense back into her. Slamming the door shut with the heel of my foot, I heave her back over my shoulder to set her down in front of me. Her hair is a disheveled mess, and if looks could kill? Well, I'll just leave it at that.

  We’re toe-to-toe, and she's breathing just as heavily as I am as we stand off against each other. It’s obvious we’re both angry for different reasons and it’s only a matter of time before we both blow our tops.

  “Where do you arrogant men get off calling women bitches?” she fumes. Being a woman, I should’ve known she would’ve found her voice first. “I didn’t do anything to deserve that type of treatment!” If we weren’t in our current predicament, I’d find her outburst sexy. I’d throw her on my bed and fuck the anger right out of her.

  “I mean, what if I went around calling you all a bunch of dicks? It’d be like telling my girlfriend to get her dick under control!”

  Finding her choice of words hilarious, I feel my lips quirk up into a grin and the anger slowly flees my veins.

  “Or how about, ‘I can’t believe you brought a dick to my place, tonight. What were you thinking?’”

  Trying not to laugh in her face, I cover my mouth and cough. She’s got as much sass on that tongue as she’s got class.

  She must see the amusement in my eyes, because she pauses in her tirade and places both hands on her hips while cocking her head to the side. “You think this is funny?”

  “Yeah, babe,” I tell her, “you’re overreacting.”

  At my reply, her head snaps back as if I’ve slapped her. Pointing between her tits, she releases a high-pitched squeal. “I’m the one overreacting! Is this how you welcome guests here? By calling them degrading names? ‘Cuz I gotta tell you, mister, you pigs have a lot of growing up to do. It’s no wonder any of you get women at all.”

  As she rambles on, I can already see we’re going to get nowhere. I’ve got a long night ahead of me, and a group of pissed men waiting for me to fill them in.

  Scooping her up, I take her by surprise and toss her onto my bed.

  “Stop manhandling me!” she screams.

  Running out of patience, I spread my body over hers and grab her wrists. Holding her hands over her head, I lean into her. “Just shut up and listen to me,” I growl.

  Her eyes widen before narrowing into tiny slits and her breath hitches.

  “By all means, speak. It’s obvious you’ve taken your friend, Mr. Green-eyes’s side.”

  “Who?” I ask, confused. “You mean Rush?”

  “Well, that’s a real manly name,” she says, her voice dripping sarcasm.

  “Really?” I ask. I should have my balls handed to me for entertaining this shit for as long as I have.

  “I’d hate to put your pal, Rush, out so why don’t you do us all a favor and let me go.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  “You don’t own me, asshole.”

  Despite her bravado, her big blue eyes fill with tears, and I watch as she grits her teeth, trying to hold them back.

  “No, baby,” I rasp. Knowing she was only looking for a little fun, that she got way more than she bargained for, it makes me go easy on her. Or so I tell myself. The truth is, I fucking hate seeing her cry. “I don’t own you. If I did, this shit would be easy.”

  If I claimed her as mine, I wouldn’t have to leave this room and plead with the club to protect her. If she was mine, she’d already be property of Chaos and there would be no question of her safety.

  “I don’t expect you to understand those men out there, or their lingo, but being referenced to as my bitch is a compliment in my world. I’d put down any motherfucker who dared to hurt or insult you.”

  Seeming to calm down, her body relaxes, and I loosen my hold on her wrists. Brushing her hair away from her face, I stare at her intently as the tears start to fall from her eyes and she releases a sob.

  “Ree?” I ask, wiping her tears away. “Why’re you crying now?”

  “I almost
believe you,” she whispers, pausing to catch her breath. “You really would do that for me?”

  “What we shared tonight that wasn’t just some fuck, Ree. I’m man enough to admit that. It meant something to me, and I can’t in good conscience let you leave after that. Those men at the beach took your purse. They got your identity. They’ll come for you and when they do, it won’t be pretty.”

  I don’t tell her I feel responsible for this nightmare in the first place, that I let my dick get the better of me and put her in harm’s way.

  Sighing, I release her and run my fingers through my hair as I glance down at her. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me down to her.

  “How can you be so put together right now?” she asks through her tears.

  I can’t tell her that I’ve witnessed a shit ton of bloodshed in my life or that I’ve dug my fair share of graves. Instead, I bend my head and nip at her lips.

  “Maybe because my first priority is to make sure you’re taken care of,” I hedge.

  A knock sounds at the door.

  “It’s open,” I call out.

  Brick, our VP enters and rounds the side of my bed. I look up at him, but find his eyes on Ree and they’re full of concern. He seems to know what I’m dealing with, because he kneels down to get on her level. She turns her head to look at him through a mass of tears.

  “I’m sorry you’re having a shit night. You caught Rush at a bad time so you gotta let the things he said go.” Slicing his eyes to me, he continues, “I’ve got some sleeping pills. I think she’ll be able to calm down if she takes one.”

  “Ree?” I prompt her to answer.

  She nods several times over. Her hand trembles as she makes a poor attempt to wipe away her smeared mascara, and I find myself smiling down at her. She’s still so beautiful.

  “All right,” Brick says, getting up, “I’ll go grab them. It probably wouldn’t hurt to have her chase them down with a shot of Johnny Walker.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” I tell him.

  Once Brick is gone, I help Ree to her feet. “I think a hot shower will help you relax. I’ll set out one of my t-shirts and a pair of sweats.