His Poppy: Furious Daggers MC

by Brogan Riley

I cover her with a blanket as my eyes trace the fresh scratch on her forearm. She’s asleep.

  It’s been like this for a week. Doctor spends the whole day with her somewhere near the compound and she comes back scratched and exhausted. I put her to bed and she falls asleep at once. She hasn’t said a word to me, but her eyes are full of fear.

  I wanted to cut it, but Doctor convinced me to continue. He’s very intrigued with her. He’s been investigating her like she’s some fucking paranormal mystery to solve.

  Doctor gestures for me to move to the kitchen. I open the window, plunge my hand into the pocket of my jacket and take my cigarettes out. We light them up and smoke them with our elbows leaning against the windowsill.

  “This is not a learning disability,” Doctor says. “This is not autism either.” He straightens, disposing of his cigarette into the jar, and threads his fingers through his shoulder-length hair. He strokes his unshaven chin with his thumb. “I’ve done a lot of tests. Fifty or so. She’s not an academic, but her IQ is…” He draws in a deep breath.

  I straighten, throwing my cigarette into the jar. “What the fuck is this then?”

  “She’s built a wall of lies around herself, Jackson.”

  “The fuck what?”

  Doctor lights up another cigarette, takes a few hits, and disposes of it into the jar. He clenches his hands on the back of his neck. “She’s not an academic because this part of her brain was damaged. Deliberately.”

  “Why would she do that to herself?”

  “Somebody else did that to her. It seems like a kind of Munchausen syndrome.”

  “Can you speak English?”

  “I mean Poppy acts as if she’s sick. She isn’t, Jackson. She hasn’t developed properly, but that is only because someone prevented her from developing. She struggles with acquiring academic knowledge and basic life skills, but have you noticed how precise her movements are?”

  “What?”

  “She can climb a high wall like a little spider. Even with her weak ankle.”

  “What?” I growl as heat rushes up my chest and my throat pulses.

  “She can play a piano with such a precision I’m amazed, but her climbing skills? If she lived in Russia they’d make a little assassin, or thief out of her.”

  “What does that all mean, Doctor?”

  “I suspect there was some really nasty shit in her family. She doesn’t want to remember that shit. Or have anything to do with her family.”

  “Her stepmother wants to kill her after all.”

  “She’s not her stepmother. And she’s not Poppy. I mean she is. It’s her nickname. Her real name is—“

  “I don’t give a shit. She’s Poppy. My Poppy.” I shake my head as though something has struck on my brain. “Jesus Christ. She needs help.”

  “I need more time, more tests, and then I can tell you the established diagnosis.”

  And I need to use my hacking skills. Every new asset to the club gets a fresh start here. I don’t ask questions, but I check everyone out enough to know they won’t pose any threat to the club.

  I didn’t check out Poppy. Why would I? I trust Tank with my life.

  I decided to take care of her and keep her safe. Sometimes not digging around is the best hideout.

  I thought she’d have a new life here, but it looks like she hasn’t left her shit behind. She can’t free herself from her past and I need to know why.

  “Ah, one more thing,” Doctor says. “Poppy is asthmatic.”

  “Asthmatic?”

  “I thought they were panic attacks but no, they are asthma attacks. I gave her one of Priest’s inhalers and everything should be fine.”

  “Thanks, brother.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I call Fiona and order her to watch over Poppy. Then I go to the basement in the clubhouse, settle myself at the desk, and turn on my state-of-the art equipment. The screens flash as the cables emit a blue and green pulsating light. A humming sound fills the air and mingles with the smell of dust and the stench exuded by two half-empty bottles of vodka.

  Tank told me her name—Poppy Selig, and the name of the pharmaceutical empire that reads ‘Sonja Med’.

  I’m good at computers. I’m even better at hacking.

  That’s how we stay off the radar of the police. That’s how we reach a lot of people in need.

  I go through a number of articles in newspapers and magazines first, all of them dating back thirty years ago.

  Felix Selig took over the pharmaceutical empire from his adoptive parents. A year later, they died in a car crash. Very fucking suspicious to be honest. I hack into the police reports but it looks like there was no investigation.

  I’m in a trance, digging deeper and deeper.

  Felix married Andrea Liv and they had two daughters, Sabine and Sonja.

  Andrea died in a car crash.

  Chills go down my spine as I find out there was no police investigation either.

  A trashy magazine mentions Sonja suffering from depression.

  My fingers keep typing as my neck muscles start aching.

  I watch a few photos of Felix’s family—Sabine looks like a ruthless bitch with dyed blonde hair, but Sonja?

  Fuck.

  Something cold and slimy forms inside of my stomach, rises up to my throat, and wraps around it.

  Poppy and Sonja? The resemblance is so striking I freeze for a moment. I reject my suspicions. That’s just too sick, too gross.

  I continue with my investigation, my wrists stiff. My head pulsates with a dull pain.

  Sonja is staying at a mental institution. Has been in there for years.

  A callused hand squeezes my shoulder and I realise Doctor has been in here the whole time.

  “Looks like we’re going to visit Sonja,” Doctor says.

  “It’s up to you, brother.”

  “I want to do this. I’ve always wanted to be a detective.”

  Poppy needs a break, and I need to know.

  Chapter 11

  Poppy

  I open my eyes at the gust of a masculine scent and the sensation of being crushed by an arm. It’s Jackson. He kisses my lips like I’m his favourite dessert. He is naked, damp and hot from the shower.

  “Where have you been?” I ask.

  “In the clubhouse.”

  “We always go to the clubhouse together.”

  “Sometimes you’ll stay in the house and I’ll go alone.”

  My heart sinks and I feel my throat tighten. “You don’t want me?”

  He crawls on top of me as his hard shaft pokes into my inner thigh. “No other women, Poppy. There’s sometimes club business, that’s all.”

  “What is club business?”

  “This is something I do only with my boys.”

  “Like your job?”

  “Yes, my job.” He bends my knees and spreads my thighs. His teeth mark my neck as he shoves his manhood into me and I hiss at the burning sensation. “I want you more than anything, baby girl.” His mouth covers mine as our bodies move, clenched tight together. Pleasure muffles the pain from his intrusion. “We should have a baby, Poppy,” he murmurs.

  “I know nothing about babies.”

  He puts my calves on his shoulders and thrusts into me deep. So deep that I whimper.

  I cover my face with my palms and let him carry me. He pounds into me as I rise higher and higher. It feels like I’m rising on a wave of pain, pleasure, and intoxication. I’m not corporeal. I’m all hot, impatient sensation.

  “I want to have a baby with you, Poppy.”

  I want that too.

  Jackson will be a good father, I’m sure.

  I want to respond, but I don’t because my body doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to him, merges with his, and is consumed. I shatter.

  “Say you’re mine,” he demands.

  “I’m yours.”

  “Say you’re my Poppy.”

  “I’m your Poppy.”

  “Always and
forever.”

  “Always and forever.”

  Jackson pounds me until we both moan our ecstasy.

  And then again. And again.

  I want to ask him so many questions, but I fall into hot forgetfulness instead.

  I’m sticky from his come and the air is suffused with the smell of our sex. I can’t move. I want to talk to Jackson, but instead I drop off to sleep, enclosed with his arms.

  Jackson

  Doctor jumps onto his bike as I kiss Poppy and stroke her head with my knuckles.

  “Fiona and Tyler are gonna take care of you,” I say.

  Fiona wasn’t unhappy when I asked her to help me. I’ve noticed she doesn’t drive to her apartment to be with Diana anymore.

  Tyler was very happy with the prospect of spending more time with Fiona.

  I jump onto my bike and start the engine. My equipment is inside the black bag secured behind me. We’re going to break into a posh facility after all.

  I spent two days in the basement, studying its layout. Poppy kept asking me questions so I kept fucking her and she was too exhausted to think.

  I rev up the engine and shoot forward.

  Doctor is a good biker, but I’m much better. Only Tyler out of all the boys is a good match for me. I taught him to ride a motorcycle, taught him to be a man, a biker. I have nothing against Diana, but Tyler deserves Fiona more than she does.

  We ride along a motorway and then meander among green fields dotted with low trees and crossed by wooden fences. Another motorway for two hours, a stop at a petrol station, a burger at a café and finally a cigarette by a stream that crosses a small village.

  “You okay, Doctor?” My eyes sweep over the row of stone cottages illuminated by the light of a street lamp.

  “Fuck off. You’re my president, not my mother.”

  I raise my hands in a warding gesture. “Fair enough.”

  A red flare burns on the horizon, framed by violet and orange hues. Coldness puffs on my face from the edge of the woods as smoke rises from one of the chimneys and the thick smell of resins brushes against my nostrils.

  “Why Poppy?” Doctor asks as curiosity flickers in his eyes.

  “I don’t know. She’s cute and lovable. And I wanted something stable and only mine.”

  “Cheryl wanted to be only yours. As did Kristy and Barbara.”

  “They were not cute and lovable enough.”

  They were a nice shop assistant, a smart nurse, and a curvy florist. They lacked something only Poppy can give me.

  One of Doctor’s brows crooks up. “Poppy’s cute and lovable. And that’s all you know about her, don’t you?”

  “I don’t need to know more. It’s for her not for me.”

  Somehow, his remark makes me feel uneasy. Poppy has some shit to get over with, but that’s no crime. I’m not perfect either.

  “You may not like what we find out about Poppy,” Doctor says.

  “Whatever this is it’s not gonna change the way I feel about her.”

  Doctor flashes me a grin and I feel like a pussy. I grunt and take another cigarette out.

  “Men can talk about feelings, Jackson. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I’m not your fucking patient, man.”

  “You’re my club brother, so I say what I feel must be said.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I thrust my chin out towards our bikes and we crush our cigarettes under our boots.

  Our bikes roar and we shoot towards the line of trees.

  Two hours later, we stop by the bottom of a hill, hiding our bikes behind a wall of greenery. We start climbing among the density of trees and bushes. A fairytale palace profiles behind the hill. With its many towers, lacy balconies, and plants of exotic origins it looks like a piece of fantasy world. A high concrete wall with two towers and three security guards looks very real and very serious though.

  The plan is very simple—we’ll climb the wall, remove our outer clothing and put green scrubs on. Sonja occupies room 67 Level 3 Area D. We’ll get inside her room and ask her a few questions.

  With two rope arrows, we approach the wall. We shoot and attach the ropes to the upper edge of the wall. So far no problems. Sort of.

  Doctor’s face looks like he’s bathing in his worst nightmares, but his grin tells me he can still manage.

  We start climbing.

  Our jobs require us to keep fit so I work out every day. Well, I worked out every day until I met Poppy. Now, I’m working only my little wife. That’s a damn very good exercise.

  It takes us about three minutes to swing our bodies over the top, climb down and put our feet inside the facility. Avoiding the eyes of cameras, we hide among bushes to assess the number of security guards. I can see two of them. This is a hospital, not a high-security prison after all.

  We shed our jackets and jeans, replacing them with the scrubs. Doctor gestures for me to move, and we leave our hideout. I have my gun hung on the side of my chest and two pieces of equipment to break into Sonja’s room in my pockets.

  “You okay, Doctor?” I whisper.

  “Fuck off,” he whispers back.

  He’s pissed off by my attention, so I keep my mouth shut.

  We do such jobs regularly—each member of the club is on the job one or two times a year. Each of us knows how to take a bullet out, how to suture a wound, how to resuscitate.

  We steal money from rich scumbags to keep our dark charity running.

  I grew to love this lifestyle, but now I love Poppy. I love her more than anything. More than my job, I must admit. We’ll see.

  We move towards the door that leads to the kitchen. Doctor is the first to walk in. A cleaner raises her head crowned by silver curls and shoots us a surprised glance.

  “We’re hungry,” Doctor says. “You eat a lot while doing a nightshift.” His face is pale in the light of two strips that stretch along the ceiling, but his voice doesn’t betray his anxiety.

  The cleaner nods, understanding written all over her wrinkled face.

  Poppy

  Tyler lifts the lid off the pan and stirs his stew with a wooden spoon. Fiona crosses her arms over her chest and winks at me.

  “Try this, Fiona,” Tyler says as he holds a silver spoon in his hand, dips it into the stew, and blows air onto it.

  She takes the spoon from his hand and puts it into her mouth. “Not bad.”

  Tyler widens his eyes. “Not bad? That’s my grandma’s recipe. She’s rolling over in her coffin, woman.”

  Fiona chuckles. “Alright, it’s really nice. And by the way, you have no grandma.”

  His face doesn’t betray any emotions, but then his jaw muscles twitch. “It’s nice, Fiona. Let’s pretend it’s my Italian grandma’s recipe.” He winks at her.

  “Alright,” Fiona says. “I love all your grandma’s recipes.”

  Tyler puts the lid back on. “I’m a really good cook.”

  Fiona throws the spoon into the kitchen sink. “So?”

  “So,” Tyler says, leaning against the cupboard. “I could cook for you more often, you know. Your lush curves need my food.”

  “My curves?” Fiona puts her hands on her hips.

  Tyler nods. “Yes, they need my food to keep them in good curvy shape.”

  “I need to lose weight, Tyler,” Fiona says. “Diana said… Ah, never mind.”

  The dance music playing on the radio fills the kitchen as our chattering halts for a moment.

  “You should leave Diana and move in with me.” Tyler’s voice sounds serious.

  Fiona sucks in a breath. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, woman.” Tyler moves closer to me. “Tell her, Poppy, that I’m a nice guy. Nice enough to be her boyfriend.”

  I nod. “Tyler is a nice guy. I like him.”

  Fiona erupts into laughter. “You little Brutus.”

  I like both of them. They’re so funny together. I don’t know Diana so I can’t tell if she’s nice or not. She is not here,
but Tyler is.

  Fiona settles herself on the tabletop as Tyler removes his cut and t-shirt and hangs them over the back of a chair.

  “Wow,” Fiona says as she rolls her eyes. “You want Poppy to fall in love with you, you pretty young god?”

  My eyes sweep over the tattoos on his arms and chest—I can see a skull, two snakes and the name of his club.

  Tyler chuckles. “Poppy loves only Jackson, right, sweetheart?”

  “I love you all,” I say, “but each of you is a different love. I mean… It’s different.” I take in a deep breath. “I’ll maybe go for a walk.”

  Fiona nods. “Sure, it’s beautiful today.”

  “Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” Tyler adds.

  I bob my head at him. “Half an hour? Okay. I’ll be back in half an hour then.”

  “No rush,” Tyler says to me but his eyes fix onto Fiona.

  I know they should have privacy now even though I know very little.

  I exit the house and let my feet carry me. A sea breeze lifts my hair and brings a transparent taste of salt onto my lips. Seagulls scream above my head as the sun’s rays burn the nape of my neck. I sit down on the grassy ground, pulling my knees to my chest, and yawn.

  I sleep a lot in life, or used to sleep a lot, used to live in my dreams. Jackson doesn’t need much sleep. He needs a lot of sex as though it is his way of dealing with problems. I don’t mind though. I need him as much as he needs me.

  Chilly coldness creeps into the air as two grey clouds obscure the sun. I scramble to my feet and rush over to the house to grab my cardigan.

  I sneak in and move towards the kitchen where I left it. I stop in the doorway.

  Fiona turns her face to mine, her cheeks red. She’s lying on the table with her knees bent. Tyler has his head between her thighs. Between her naked thighs.

  Heat rushes up my chest as my heart starts thundering.

  “I could ask you to join us, Poppy,” Fiona gasps, “but your old man would put a bullet into my skull if I did.”

  Tyler raises his head. His mouth is shiny from her wetness. “Twenty minutes, okay sweetheart?” he says.

  “Okay,” I mumble. “I won’t tell anyone,” I add to myself, because they’re too preoccupied with each other to hear me.

  Tyler shoves two of his fingers into Fiona’s heat and pumps them in and out. Then he sinks his face back between her thighs.