Havok: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Riley Rollins

  "Does it feel infected?"

  I shrugged. "Nah. Never had a problem with that kinda thing." It was true. I'd gotten pretty fucked up on a few occasions, but I always bounced back fast. My body was a tank that just couldn't be stopped.

  "Hmm," she said, still looking at the wound disapprovingly.

  I stepped toward her, moving to put my hands on her waist, grinning at her. But, she turned her cheek and moved away. "Whatever," she said, and I realized she was mocking what I said to her last night. I just cracked a smile at her. I wasn't even mad. She looked hot as fuck.

  "You gonna get dressed?" I said.

  "Actually, yeah. Would you mind?"

  "Not at all." I grinned again.

  "Ugh. Turn around."

  I laughed and turned away. But then I turned back, just in time to see her pulling the still-wet t-shirt over her head, sliding it down over her chest. She pulled it down quickly and slapped my arm. "Axl!"

  I laughed. "Damn girl," I said. "That thing better dry out fast or I'm not gonna be able to think about anything else today." I stared at her nipples, outlined in the damp fabric.

  "Enjoy it while it lasts, pervert," she said.

  "Alright," I said, using all my willpower to pry my eyes away. "Seriously, though, we've gotta make our next move. And I know what it is."

  "What?"

  "Vargas. That fat guy back at the junkyard. Remember him?"

  "Yes."

  "This shit ain't gonna end 'til he's gone. History. He's a warmongering freak and the shit between our clubs is gonna get worse long as he's around."

  "You're going to kill someone else?" said Holly. Her expression was one of worry.

  I paused before answering. "Yeah. I got to."

  "Isn't that just going to fan the flames?"

  "Don't think so," I said. "All Reapers are shit, but their VP ain't as shitty as Vargas. Worked with him before, a practical guy, not a fuckin' maniac. Someone the Sons could work with. And from what I hear, he wouldn't pursue vengeance on the Sons if something happened to Vargas. Hates the guy himself, wants to take over the Reapers."

  "And," I added, "Could be my only chance to get back in my club's good graces."

  Holly frowned. I could tell she didn't like this at all. But it wasn't a choice. "Do more people really have to die?" she asked.

  "Yeah," I said, nodding. "Yeah they do."

  24

  Holly

  I didn't want any more violence and killing. All night, I'd had nightmares about yesterday. In my head, I kept going back and forth about what happened. Whether I'd been justified in what I did. Whether I'd be able to live with myself, knowing that I'd taken a person's life. Whether I'd have been able to live with myself if I hadn't done what I did.

  I was conflicted, and I was more than a little afraid of what I was capable of.

  This wasn't the direction I'd envisioned my life taking. And Axl was not the kind of man who would have fit into my old life.

  But this was my new life and there was no going back. College, graduation, and my documentary, which were the most important things to me just a week before, now seemed a distant memory. When the Reapers had come after me in my own house, it changed everything.

  Before that, I still could've somehow gone to the cops. But after Axl rescued me, going to the cops would've meant turning him in. And I couldn't make myself do it then.

  Now it was too late even for that. Now, going to the cops would mean turning myself in as well.

  I was in this deep. Way too deep to think about getting out now. And against my own best interests, I was falling for Axl. I was changing. And I didn't know who—or what—I would to be when I came out the other side.

  It scared me and I tried to fight it. I looked in his eyes, feeling the breeze pass over my damp t-shirt. It cooled my body, providing a much-needed respite from the heat.

  "Axl," I said, "More death can't be the answer."

  He shook his head. "You're wrong, doll. It is the answer."

  "Why? Look where it's gotten us. Living out of a stolen car, in a crappy tent in the middle of the desert."

  "Holly," he said, "It's either out here, or six feet under. I told you before. This life chose me, and it chose you too. Adapt or die."

  "I can't stop thinking about yesterday," I confessed. "It's really bothering me. Like, a lot." I felt like I might cry, but I steeled myself and resolved not to let it happen in front of Axl.

  He sighed. "Walk with me," he said, and reached out. I put my hand in his, and we started to walk around the perimeter of Devil's Canyon.

  "Lemme tell you about the first time I killed a man," he said. It felt really weird to hear him say that. And even weirder to identify with it.

  "I met the Sons when I was sixteen. Just got my license, and my foster dad got me a cheap Japanese dirtbike. Rode it everywhere. Loved that fuckin' thing. Anyway, I started hangin' out with other guys who rode bikes, and kept crossin' paths with Ryker and another young cat named Dash. Found out they were part of an MC—the Sons. They had a place to belong. I didn't. But they brought me in, and that was somethin' I'd never had before. I got to be tight with them.

  "They started bringing me along on deals. I was a prospect. One day we had a drug drop-off with another crew. Don't remember which. Anyway, I was posted up on the roof of a building, keepin' an eye on the deal. Shit went south, and one of their guys pulled out a knife. Looked like he was gonna shank Dash in the back. Real fuckin' bitch move. So I pulled out the old revolver they'd given me, and I lit the fucker up."

  I let the story sink in before speaking. "And how did it make you feel?"

  The rocks crunched beneath our feet as we walked. When I almost lost my footing, Axl yanked me back up. Even the pull of my entire weight didn't throw him off balance.

  "Shitty," he admitted. "Real fucking shitty. You gotta be a monster to not feel that," he said. "Like Vargas. He's a fucking psychopath." He continued, "But it was either him or Dash. And maybe more of our guys too. And eventually me. That's the way it works on the streets. Them or you."

  His words made sense, and sounded just like what I'd been thinking yesterday. It made me feel a little better, but it also scared me that I was thinking the same way as a grizzled biker. I kept trying to fight the feeling. "Why not just walk away from it all?" I said.

  Axl shook his head. "And do what? Live alone and flip burgers all day? I got nothin' except the club."

  "It's not too late for you," I said. "What if we fix this somehow. Get back to normal life. Move far away."

  Axl chuckled. "It is too late for me, darlin'. I got too much blood on my hands." His smile slowly faded. "But you don't. For you, it's not too late. You ain't gonna forget what happened yesterday, but don't let it eat at ya. Remember what I said. Them or us. That guy woulda killed me and then you. It was self defense. Believe me."

  "What about the cops?" I asked. It freaked me out to think of my face on a wanted poster. I felt paranoid, sure that they would find us.

  Axl rolled his eyes. "What about 'em? Ain't no evidence on you, and let me tell you somethin'. You think cops give a shit about a couple bikers killin' each other? Well, they fuckin' don't. They care long enough for the public to forget about it. That's why we're out here. We ride out the shitstorm, and soon it'll be just another unsolved mystery in a cardboard box, in the basement of the police station. Ain't nobody gonna suspect a damn thing about you."

  His words made sense. For the first time since it'd happened, I felt some peace of mind. What I did didn't make me a monster. It was them or us.

  "Is that what you want?" he said. "I can keep you safe while I take out Vargas. Get this shit over with. Then you can go back home."

  I stopped walking and turned toward him. "What do you want?" I asked. "What is this, anyway?"

  We were still holding hands, his right in my left. He took my other hand too. "I don't know, doll," he said. "Do what you gotta do. I ain't tryin' to drag you down to my level. But if you stay, then as fa
r as I'm concerned you're my old lady."

  I stood there, holding his hands, the sun beating down on us. We were all alone in Devil's Canyon, no one around us, no one to influence my decision either way. I weighed the options. Wait for this to blow over and go back home and never see him again, or take a chance on this. To let the lifestyle choose me. And to be his old lady.

  In that moment, I changed, and I knew what I'd become. Not a ruthless killer, but a stronger woman. One who'd do what she had to do to protect those she loved.

  Loved? Did I really think that?

  I felt pretty sure, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. Not quite yet.

  I looked into his eyes, full of life and energy, and marveled at his beauty. Even out here, completely in the rough, he was a gorgeous, strong man. He didn't need anything or anyone. He was just living life by his own rules. They were chaotic rules, but they weren't evil ones.

  I wasn't going anywhere.

  "Well," I said, "You gonna kiss your old lady or what?"

  25

  Axl

  I slid my hands up her back, over her shoulders, and my fingers meshed with her soft, thick hair. I held the back of her head in my hands as if were precious gold. And then, I kissed her deeply. My Holly.

  My old lady.

  The intensity of the kiss left my lips feeling napalmed. God, she set every part of my being on fire. I wanted her so fucking bad.

  But I was also terrified of corrupting her. The shit I said to her made sense to me, and I knew it was true in the club lifestyle. But shit, to be honest with myself, I didn't know if it was true for a good girl like her. I didn't know if a person could just go from college student one day to killer the next, and not be eaten alive by it.

  All I knew was that I was willing to do anything it took to make sure she never had to spill another drop of blood again. That shit was for people like me, who were already ruined. Not for a spring chicken like her.

  When our lips parted, she was breathing heavily. "Axl," she said, "I need you right now."

  Just hearing those words nearly made my cock tear through my Kevlar jeans. I fucking wanted to, worse than anything. If she'd said it ten minutes ago, I'd have been all over her. But after this conversation, I had to focus. Had to stay alert. If I was gonna hit Vargas, I had to do it fast before the situation evolved.

  "Babe," I said, "I wanna tear you apart right now, but it ain't the time. We gotta get you somewhere safe while I handle this."

  The lust in her eyes almost brought me to my knees. That look could destroy a man.

  And if I got soft, I knew it would destroy me.

  We packed our shit back into the car, fast, and left Devil's Canyon behind us.

  As we rolled down the highway, she pulled her phone out from her backpack and turned it on. "I've gotta say something to my parents. With me being gone and what happened on my street, they probably already filed a missing person report."

  I cringed at the thought. Despite the reassurance I'd given to her earlier, the cops could fucking take us down right now. Yeah, this shit would eventually blow over like I said, but right now, we were in their crosshairs. More attention was the last thing we needed.

  "Yeah," I said. "Fuck. You better make up a good story."

  "No signal," she said.

  We kept driving and she kept trying her phone. I headed toward a border town near Cali, where the NOMAD compound was. NOMADs were guys without a club affiliation. And those guys owed me. They would keep her safe while I fucked up Vargas.

  After twenty or thirty minutes, she said, "Signal's back." And almost at that exact same time, I felt my phone going off in my pocket, buzzing again and again, as it caught up with a huge backlog of missed texts.

  I jammed one hand in my pocket and pulled it out. I handed it to Holly. "Read the messages to me," I said, keeping my eyes on the road.

  She took my phone from me and started poking and swiping through it.

  Then she gasped. "Oh my god," she said. The tone of her voice sent a shiver down my spine.

  "What?" I said, forcefully.

  "It says, 'Demon hit inside job. Watch your back.'"

  I felt like a sledgehammer had gone off, ricocheting through my chest and head. I wrenched the wheel to the right, and the car careened into the dirt shoulder. We were buffeted by the road's roughness. My head struck the ceiling hard as the car screeched and skidded to a halt in the dirt. The cars that had been following us swung out wide, and the drivers gawked at us through their windows.

  "Gimme that fuckin' thing," I said, snatching the phone from Holly's hands. I looked down at it, and it said exactly what she'd read to me. The "Sender" field said: Dash.

  I roared. "Shit!" I slammed my hands down, snapping a piece of plastic off the center console of the car. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Holly flinch.

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck!!" I screamed. I was losing control, and the only thing that stopped me going utterly fucking nuts was Holly's calming touch on my arm. I breathed hard, grinding my teeth together, trying to wrap my head around what I was reading. An inside job against one of your own guys was the biggest "Fuck you," the ultimate, unforgivable crime. If, for whatever godawful reason, a club had to take out one of its own guys, it was done by a Mayhem vote. Legit. Honorably.

  And although I knew I might face a Mayhem vote when I went back to the club—if I went back to the club—that ain't what this was.

  This was something else, and I knew right away what was happening.

  Lynch. That dirty, rotten fuckin' dog carcass had to be at the core of this. Wasn't anybody else in the club who woulda had a reason, or the balls, to do this.

  "Fucking Lynch," I said.

  "The bald guy? The guy who tried to grab me back at the junkyard?"

  "Yeah," I fucking growled. "That fuckin' piece of shit. We gotta get you to the safe house. Then I'm gonna fuckin' rumble. It's gonna be a bloodbath."

  Holly's expression was solemn. But she didn't protest like I thought she might. Instead, she nodded.

  "I understand," she said. "You gotta do what you gotta do." She was starting to understand how this worked.

  I nodded, heat rising off my body in waves.

  Nobody double-crossed me and lived to tell the tale.

  Nobody.

  26

  Holly

  The air conditioning had burned out in the shitty little Honda we'd stolen, so we rode with the windows down. The evening air was hot and humid, and although it whipped through my hair, it provided no relief from the scorching heat.

  Axl's knuckles blanched against the hard plastic steering wheel. He was squeezing it hard, and I could tell that wires of tension were tightening throughout his body. I felt the same way. My whole body was uncomfortable, my mind anxious.

  "Axl," I said, "This isn't about the video anymore, is it?"

  "No," he answered, staring straight ahead as he hit the accelerator and passed a car on the left. "Never was."

  "They're using me as a pawn in their game." I was starting to understand how the game worked.

  Axl nodded. "A Reaper came by the club. Said they were after you. Hardly even gave a shit about the tape. The tape incriminated both our clubs, it gave us no leverage on them. But you gave them leverage on us."

  "Because they saw you protecting me."

  "Yeah. They find your weak spots. Pick at the scabs until they bleed. Anything your enemy cares about is a weak spot."

  I hesitated for a moment but then spoke. "Why did you care about me?"

  "Told myself it was about protecting an innocent. Sons code says to protect 'em. But…" he trailed off.

  "But what?"

  "You made me feel somethin' I hadn't felt before."

  I reached over to the steering wheel and placed my hand on his.

  "What happens if they find out I'm your old lady now?"

  Axl took his eyes off the road for the first time in at least an hour, and looked right at me. "What do you think?"

  Shit. To
the Reapers, I was just a button to be pressed, a weak point to exploit. That made me mad. A club that'd use a woman to manipulate a rival club couldn't have any honor. I'd pretty much thought of all bike clubs as criminal enterprises up until now. But now I was starting to see the shades of grey. How there was a code of honor even on the streets, among criminals.

  "Where're you taking me?" I asked.

  "Cali border hideout. NOMAD compound."

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  "Unaffiliated bike chapter. They're good guys. I trust 'em."

  "You're sure?"

  Axl looked at me again. "Would I lie to you?"

  I nodded slowly, giving him my trust. He hadn't let me down and I didn't feel like he was going to.

  We got to the NOMAD compound after dark. Somehow, lady luck had been on our side, and we made it halfway across the state without any cops picking up on our plate, which had to be reported stolen by now.

  The compound looked like a bunker. A long, flat, nondescript concrete building that looked like it was made to withstand a direct assault. As we pulled up, the lights were down and the place looked deserted. But as soon as our front tires hit the property line, huge spotlights came on and flooded the car like day. I shielded my eyes, and saw that five or six guys with huge black rifles had come out of nowhere and were checking us out. When they saw it was Axl in the driver's seat, the floodlights went down and they waved us in.

  Axl took us around the perimeter of the compound, toward the opposite end of the complex. "Entrance is on the other side," I said.

  "Yeah. If you wanna get in, you gotta go all the fuckin' way around. Safer that way. If you ain't supposed to be here, they just light you up before you have a chance. Look," he said, pointing to the compound roof. In the moonlight, I could make out a shadowy figure on the rooftop, holding the same type of assault rifle. "Reapers ain't gonna touch you here."

  I believed it.

  As we slowed to a stop on the opposite end of the compound, an unmarked, un-windowed door swung open and a big burly, older guy with a white beard emerged. He looked like a big biker Santa.