Chaos

by J. C. Cliff

  “You say the filthiest things.”

  “And you love every one of them.”

  Her gaze fixed on mine, she draws her lower lip between her teeth and contemplates her reply. Not giving her a chance to give me anymore bullshit, I continue to lay our truth between us.

  “The second I entered you, I knew you were going to be more than a one-night stand. When you came around my cock, I knew it would take a lot for me to work you out of my system. And when you cried in my arms, I knew I didn’t want to purge you, that I wanted to keep you.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” she whispers.

  “Then don’t say anything. I think we both have done enough talking.”

  “Actually…,” she starts, holding up a finger.

  “For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, hanging my head in frustration.

  “Just because you think you feel something for me doesn’t give you the right to kidnap me.”

  I give up.

  There’s no shutting her up.

  Before I can threaten to silence her with my cock a loud bang sounds on the door and is followed by Brick’s gruff voice.

  “Dammit, Blade!” he hollers, continuing to pound his fist against the door. “Open the fucking door before I tear it off the hinges.”

  Groaning, I roll off Ree and cover my eyes with my forearm before yelling back at him.

  “I’m coming, dammit.”

  And not the way I fucking planned.

  “You got one minute,” Brick bellows. “Prez wants you in church.”

  Getting out of bed, I grab my jeans from the floor and pull them up my legs before turning to Ree. She grabs the t-shirt she wore to bed and pulls it over her head. Shoving her arms through the sleeves, she meets my gaze.

  “Where are my clothes?”

  “Downstairs,” I tell her.

  “They’re where?” she shrieks, eyes wide.

  “Don’t worry, I’m having them washed and hung dry. Just put on my sweatpants until they’re done,” I instruct as I grab a clean t-shirt and start for the door.

  “Conversation is over for now,” I call over my shoulder as I pull on my shirt. I turn to fully face Ree and find her brows nearly touch her hairline. “You’re not going anywhere so just accept it already.”

  “You’ve got some nerve,” she intones.

  “Gotta go, sweetheart. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a few and when I get back, no more talking. Just you and me working shit out with our bodies.”

  Leaving her with her mouth agape, I stride out the door and head to the devil’s chapel.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  He’s out the door without a second glance, leaving me alone. The room is silent except for the ceiling fan that works tirelessly, spinning around and around, producing an unwanted chill. Goosebumps spread over my forearms, causing me to drop back onto the bed and lift the comforter over me.

  “This conversation is over.”

  I was right to assume he was arrogant.

  Lifting my head, I punch the pillow and try to make myself comfortable. I’m too wired to sleep and so, I glance around Blade’s room, taking it in for the first time. Last night was too much of a blur to pay attention to anything but the mess I was in.

  Am in.

  As my eyes sweep around his room, I decide he needs a little help decorating. Most of the furniture is worn and mismatched. The comforter feels fairly new and the walls look like they’ve had a fresh coat of paint but they’re barren. The entire room is void of any personal affects and it makes me wonder how long he’s lived here.

  I can’t imagine it being very long seeing how neat he keeps it. I expected it to be a mess. I figured I’d find clothes strewn across the floor and a collection of empty beer cans everywhere. And let’s not forget the mammoth supply of condoms I also thought I’d find. Instead, I discovered Blade kept his personal space clean and his dick in his pants.

  He’s full of surprises and contradictions.

  A rough biker with a gentle side.

  There is no denying there’s an edge to him. I saw it last night when we first arrived and it scared me almost as much as knowing those murderers have my home address.

  Realizing there is no escaping my situation, that every fear Blade professed is actually my reality, I tremble and draw the covers higher, covering my face.

  I’m stuck. Really, truly stuck. I have no phone, no wallet, and no way out.

  Something buzzes across the nightstand, causing me to peel away the comforter. Following the sound of the noise, I turn and find Blade’s phone vibrating on top of the nightstand.

  Stretching across the mattress, I reach for the phone. As my fingers touch it, the vibrating stops and the screen goes black. Figuring he probably has a passcode, I contemplate placing it back on the nightstand. But my curiosity gets the best of me and I swipe my thumb across the dark screen.

  To my surprise the screen lights up and I dismiss the notification of the missed call. My finger swipes over the apps and before I realize what I’m doing, I pull up his text messages. As I access the most recent one to fill his inbox, my heart skids to a full stop and my stomach drops.

  I stare at the picture he sent through text message—the picture of me.

  Naked, legs spread and fully on display.

  Bile rises to the back of my throat and I lift my hand to cover my mouth as my gaze scans over the thread of messages between him and Rush.

  Rush: Remember asshole, no patch until you get that shot of you fucking that ugly bitch.

  Blade: Fuck off.

  Then what appears hours later, after the concert is my image along with a text.

  Blade: Bagged the Bitch.

  Rush: Sexy - mother of god – save some of that sweet pussy for me.

  And the newest text:

  Rush: Get your dick out of that bitch and your ass to church.

  “Bagged the Bitch”

  Stunned, I repeat the words out loud.

  “Oh, hell no,” I growl. Throwing my legs over the bed I stand in all my angry splendor, clutching the offensive phone in my hand. Without giving it a second thought, I chuck the phone against his wall.

  A loud crash ensues, but I don’t care.

  What the fuck kind of game are they playing with me?

  Bag the Bitch to get your MC patch?

  That’s all I was?

  I’m on fire and my face flushes with unbridled fury.

  “Bitch?” I shriek. “I’m a Bitch?” A hint of humiliation mixes with my anger as I continue to rant. “No, I’m a bagged bitch,” I sneer, correcting myself.

  I feel like a dirty dog. Like a cheap street hooker.

  Bending to retrieve my boots, I slip them on without my socks and look for a way out of here, knowing I’ll be attacked if I use the door. I take one last glance around the room, making sure I haven’t forgotten any of my personal belongings. Which is a complete waste of time, considering I don’t even have a pair of panties.

  I notice a few papers haphazardly strewn across his desk and give myself the right to snoop. Maybe I can find something out about Blade I can use against him. I walk over to his large wooden desk and shove the executive type chair out of the way.

  Some executive.

  Shuffling through the papers, I come across my ad for an escort. Tearing it up, I toss the pieces in the air, watching them rain around the room. Next, I grab another sheet. The words are handwritten and the items are listed like a checklist. Grinding my teeth, I skim the page, discovering all the vulgarities written out in black and white, which were all meant for me. It all makes sense now. I think back to Blade’s little confession when we first met at the bar.

  “The guys thought it’d be funny to sign me up for this stint, making it the last thing I had to do before they patched me in.”

  “Well, you forgot to mention the rest of the story, didn’t you, Mr. Blade?” I fume. “You forgot to add, ‘Bagging the Bitch,’ then proving it with pictures.”

  Th
e crass jokes that are written all over the paper about my private parts are demoralizing.

  In a fit of rage, I crumble the paper in my fist and chuck it across the room before spinning around and storming my way toward the door. I grab at the door handle, using a death grip with the intent to fling it open fast and hard, hoping to knock it off its hinges. But, somehow, it doesn’t work out that way. I find myself flat on my ass, staring back at the heavy door. It’s not a normal wood door one would have in a house, or apartment. No, this is steel and it’s locked. This door was never going to open from the start. The bastard locked me in!

  Realizing I’m being held captive in a biker compound, the color drains from my face and I screech.

  “You motherfucker!”

  Pushing out a ragged breath, I thread my fingers through my hair and try to plan my next move.

  “Okay.” I say, changing tactics. “Since everyone believes me to be a bitch… then a bitch I will be.”

  It doesn’t take long before a thought occurs to me.

  He might not be able to hear my wrath, but he will sure as fuck see it.

  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Shrugging my leather cut onto my shoulders, I draw in a deep breath as I reach the chapel. At the sound of my brothers’ cajoling from behind the closed door, I cringe. With everything going on, the murder and Ree, I’m not in the mood to have them break my balls too. Not to mention, no one mentioned a word about my patch. A deal is a fucking deal as far as I’m concerned. Yeah, there were a few hiccups, but I held up my end of the bargain—it’s time they fucking do too. And while they’re at it, they can delete the fucking pictures of Ree. I’m still sickened that every brother here probably jerked their shit to my piece of pussy.

  I lock my door behind me as I throw on my leather jacket with the new Chaos logo insignia on the back. Despite the murder scene last night, I feel as if my steps are a little lighter and I can breathe a tad easier knowing I’m getting closer to my goals. I’m finally making progress.

  Brick pulls me from my thoughts, closing the door behind me. “Although, I gotta say, with a pussy as pretty as that one, I’d probably camp out between those thighs and never come up for air either.”

  “Fine as fuck,” Badger, our road captain, agrees. “You about ready to share the wealth, brother?”

  “Get in line, motherfucker,” Dutch, another brother says, whistling for extra emphasis.

  Gritting my teeth, I clench my fists and slice my eyes toward the end of the table, to where Rush sits with his arms crossed against his chest. Ignoring the smug look on his face, I point a finger at him.

  “Those pictures get deleted, ASAP,” I tell him in all seriousness.

  “Do I need to remind you, you’re a fucking prospect? That you speak only when fucking spoken to?” he growls.

  “Yeah, about that,” I start, closing the distance between me and the table. “Don’t you think it’s time you call the vote?”

  “And what vote might that be?”

  “I did what you asked, it’s time you be a man of your word and give me my colors,” I demand, bringing my fist against the table. “I fucking earned my place at this table.”

  “Blade,” Brick grunts. “If you would shut your fucking kisser and give Rush a chance—”

  “Fuck you,” Rush interjects, keeping his cold eyes on me. “Keep mouthing off and I’ll piss on your patch.”

  My patience teeters and just as I’m about to snatch his precious gavel and tell him to bend over so I can fuck him with it, I feel Brick’s hands on my shoulders. On instinct my defenses go up and I move to push him off me, but then I notice the Raiders of Chaos insignia he’s holding in his hand. Paralyzed by the realization he’s holding my destiny in his hands, I still and let him pull the cut from my shoulders.

  “If nothing else, I’m a man of my word,” Rush says as Brick lays my cut on top of the table. Badger pulls his knife from his vest and slides the blade under the corner of my bottom rocker that labels me a prospect. Tearing through stitching, he tosses the prospect patch into the center of the table and fixes the top and bottom rocker in place. Adding the Raiders of Chaos logo to the center, he lifts his eyes to me and waits for my approval.

  With a jerk of my chin, I give him the green light and look back toward Rush.

  “I’m still going to ask you to delete those fucking photos.”

  “You can ask me to fly to the fucking moon too,” he counters. “Don’t mean I’m going to do it.”

  Resolving there really isn’t much I can do about the situation, my gaze sweeps around the table. “I’ll fucking slice and dice anyone who passes those photos around,” I warn. These fuckers have hazed the shit out of me for too long. That shit is over and done with now.

  “Don’t go falling in love on us now,” Brick declares.

  “Fuck off,” I tell him, pulling out the only available chair at the table. Parking my ass, I push my pretty little prisoner to the back of my mind and briefly watch Badger work on my cut before diverting my attention back to Rush.

  “You got something else you want to tell me?” I question, hoping someone got a fucking hit on these cocksuckers from last night.

  Pulling out his pack of smokes, he pushes a cigarette between his lips and lights it up. Taking a long drag, he seems to contemplate my question. Like I asked the motherfucker if he has the cure for cancer or some shit.

  “The prospects were thorough with the recovery,” he reveals after a time.

  “But the cunts who did the kill weren’t all that bright.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Are you saying they left something on the body?” Tank, another brother, asks.

  Taking another drag of his cigarette, Rush shakes his head and reclines in his chair.

  “He was clean of any personal affects, but the fucking fools left his teeth.”

  Any self-respecting criminal knows you take the fucking teeth. Think about it, long after a body decays, the teeth remain. If you want to cover your tracks, and cover them fucking good, you don’t give the cops the chance to ID the victim by their dental records.

  “Good news, the prospects took good care of the remains. Ain’t no one gonna be identifying that motherfucker. Not in this lifetime, or the one that follows,” Saber informs everyone in the room.

  “That’s all well and good,” Tank says, “but how the fuck are we going to find out who the stiff is?”

  “We got a fingerprint,” Brick reveals. “Dutch already sent it to our forensics guy for a match.”

  “How the hell did they get a fingerprint?” I ask, narrowing my eyes as I glance around the table. Taking my question as his cue, Brick’s lips curve, revealing a sly grin. Pushing back his chair, the wooden legs screech across the floor as he moves to stand. I watch as he crosses the room and lifts a small green cooler.

  “A finger print is one of slowest parts of the human body to decompose,” he declares, unzipping the top of the cooler. Opening the flap, he tips his chin and encourages me to look inside.

  Sure as fuck, there is a goddamn finger sitting on a mountain of ice.

  “You took the motherfuckers finger?” I ask, lifting my eyes to his.

  “What did you do with the other nine?”

  “I made a fucking necklace out of them,” Brick hisses. “What the fuck do you think we did with them? We fucking burned them,” he declares, zipping up the cooler.

  “With any luck, we’ll get a match, find out who this guy is and why someone would want him dead. Maybe we’ll be able to link him to someone. Who the fuck knows, but it’s our only shot,” Rush says, grinding out the rest of his cigarette. “We’re riding blind with this shit and if they didn’t have your plate number, I wouldn’t give two flying fucks, but we don’t need any more heat on us. Which leads me to our next problem.” He slices his eyes back to me. “What do we do with the bitch?”

  I don’t hesitate in my reply.
/>   “I want to keep her here for now,” I tell him.

  Rush shakes his head and leans forward, resting his elbows on top of the table as he pins me with a glare. “We’re still dealing with the heat from a gun run that went wrong. We just got done saving your ass last night. If we get a hit on the print, we’ll go from there but we ain’t a bunch of fucking babysitters, Blade,” he hollers, giving me another firm shake of his head. “I’m not about to take on charity work.”

  “She’s just as much at risk as I am,” I argue. “The woman didn’t ask for any of this. It’s not a matter of if those fuckers will find her, it’s a matter of when, and I’m not going to have her blood on my hands.”

  The circumstances are different but there is a parallel between Ree and my sister, Carrie. It might not have been obvious to me before this very moment, but as the words leave my lips, I realize I won’t let Ree suffer the same fate as Carrie. I didn’t have a chance to save my sister, but I can save the woman who turned my world upside down in the matter of less than twenty-four hours.

  “So, what are you saying?” Rush growls, narrowing his eyes at me. “Either this broad is something or she’s nothing. I’m not sticking my neck out for nothing—you feel me?”

  Clenching my teeth, my jaw ticks as I stare him in the eye. I expected this kind of shit from him, but still, a part of me hoped the motherfucker wouldn’t go this route. That he would take pity on an innocent woman and not make me claim her. After all, him and this whole fucking club put her in this situation by answering an ad. They used her to stick it to me and now, she’s in a heap of trouble.

  Yeah, I’m drawn to Ree. She’s fucking hot and I like the idea of having her warm body beneath mine, but I’m not looking to tie myself to anything or anyone. A man seeking revenge for his sister’s death is in no position to fucking woo a woman. Especially not a woman who just broke out of a bad relationship and is as jaded as Ree is.