Finding Rhiannon

by Ker Dukey

  “You fuck her up?”

  Pulling a cig from his pocket and lighting it, he takes a long drag and shakes his head. “Cutters got to her, and before them, Brenner had done a number on her.”

  “Fuck!” Scorch bellows, kicking the trailer in a rage.

  “Fuck is right,” Owl continues. “He cut her nipple clean off and told her if she didn’t do what he asked he would be back for the whole thing. Bitch is scared outta her mind.”

  I move past him and up the three steps to her trailer. Opening the door, I step inside. Miranda is sitting next to the bitch, holding a cloth to her eye. She’s battered up pretty bad and begins to shake uncontrollably when she sees me closing in.

  “How the fuck did the Cutters know to come here?”

  “She said a couple of the other tenants here had run their mouths.”

  I kick at her leg, and she whimpers. “Did you send them on the same goose chase you sent us?”

  She grips onto Miranda like she’s a lifeline, but Miranda is loyal when it comes down to the club and her old man. No one could save this bitch if I wanted her dead.

  “Answer me.” I roar, pulling my gun.

  “I sent them to a trailer where my brother lives. Brenner is there.” Her terrified, wet eyes beg me for mercy. She won’t find any kindness today.

  My entire body hums with the possibility of that being the truth. She sits up and reaches for a purse. Miranda gets to her feet to give the bitch room to move when she pulls pen and paper and jots down the route.

  “He would have killed me,” she mutters, crying. Fuck her. I’m all out of compassion. Rage is the only emotion I feel.

  “Because of your bullshit, he was able to take something precious from me.”

  “He will kill me!” she screams.

  “No, he won’t,” I tell her, pulling the trigger. The bullet lodges right between her pleading eyes. Her body falls in a heap.

  “I’ll light the place up,” Miranda assures me, unaffected by the fact I’d just shot a bitch and blood was now splattered across her light gray tee.

  Both Owl and Scorch are armed when I kick the door open and step outside.

  “I have an address.”

  “Let’s go,” Scorch says, already heading back to his truck.

  I slip into the passenger seat and keep my gun resting on my thigh.

  “You can’t kill him. Promise me.”

  “You think you care more about Rhi than I do?” I bark.

  What the fuck is his problem, he’s been acting like she’s his, like me with …

  I sit up straighter and turn slightly to face him. My finger is twitching on the trigger of my gun. “Is there something you need to fucking tell me?” I snarl, my blood heating with the possibilities of his answer.

  “What do you mean?” His eyes flit to me, then back to the road as sweat beads on his forehead.

  “Scorch, answer me carefully. Are you fucking my baby sister?”

  The confinements of the truck get smaller with every intake of air.

  “What the fuck, Frost? No! Why would you ask me that?”

  Fuck. Thank fucking fuck. I couldn’t handle if he’d been sneaking about behind my back with Rhiannon.

  I sling myself back into the seat and sigh a relieved breath. “Because you’re acting an awful lot like a man who’s lost his woman.”

  “I’ve known her a long time, Frost, watched her grow up. I’m always fucking sent to ship her here, there. I’m going to catch love for the girl and want her back safe. Fuck.”

  He’s right and part of that is on me. He’s always stepped up when I’ve not been there to.

  “Would it be that fucking bad if we were into each other?” he adds. I pin him with a glare. “Just saying. I’m a catch.”

  A snort leaves me. “It’s what she would catch that’s the problem.”

  “Fuck you.” He flips me the bird and I chuckle. It’s brief, and then the fucking guilt slithers in like a snake infecting me with its venom.

  Avery…

  * * *

  “Kill the lights.”

  Scorch complies and slows the truck. Owl’s tailed us here, but it’s too quiet. If Brenner’s here, he’s either dead or waiting for company. The Cutters could have got here earlier and taken him.

  “Slow, stay vigilant,” I warn Scorch as we roll to a stop and get out of the truck.

  There’s one lone stationed trailer. Tracks under the hue of the moon, confirm bikes have been here, more than one.

  Owl creeps up behind us. “I’ll take the back,” he whispers, taking off towards the rear of the trailer.

  Both Scorch and I crouch low and jog to the door. I nod my head for Scorch to try the handle. It opens, and I aim my gun at the empty space between the frame. I rush inside, weapon aimed, checking every corner. It’s empty.

  “Fuck!” I hear Scorch bark.

  When I step outside Owl comes around from the back with a Cutter, holding a gun to his head.

  A few more appear from the bushes, weapons raised.

  “Thought you were that coward brother of yours.” Brig’s eye narrow on me.

  “Well, I ain’t.” I drop my arm and rest my gun against my thigh. We’re outnumbered, and Owl’s brains will be splattered all over the dirt if I get cocky here.

  “He’s mine,” Brig tells me.

  “You knew about Axe?” I accuse.

  Rubbing a hand down his beard, he steps almost toe to toe with me. “We tracked his truck, found him bleeding out.”

  “Why let me think he had her?”

  “So you were looking for him and not that cunt brother of yours. He’s mine, Frost, even if you all have to go to ground with him.”

  Scorch tenses beside me, his shoulders straightening as his eyes flare with undiluted rage.

  “We need him for a trade.”

  “I know about your sister. That’s something you bastards are good at, being careless with your women.”

  I let the dig go, he’s right for one, and we’re both temperamental. The last thing we need is for us all to die today and leave both Avery and Rhi vulnerable.

  “What will it take for you to back off?”

  Scorch growls beside me, not happy with me backing down and offering anything to a Cutter.

  “More than you have. You ain’t holding that gavel yet, son.”

  “How about we fucking kill you all?” Scorch thunders, raising his gun to Brig’s forehead. “Who will command your gavel when you’re eating dust out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  The dark chuckle that comes from Brig has always been chilling.

  “You’re outnumbered son.”

  “I ain’t your fucking son,” Scorch warns.

  “Neither is someone else we know,” I add smirking. Brig doesn’t know Avery has spilt his secrets to me. That the son of his whore isn’t even his.

  The fist collides with my jaw, causing my teeth to pierce the gum. My head snaps to the side. I spit blood, still smirking. “You get that one for free.”

  “We either all leave here breathing or some of us stay forever,” Owl announces.

  “Brenner is mine,” Brig says again, backing away. He whistles and waves his hand for his brothers to fall back. They all disappear through the brush as quickly as they appeared and then revs shatter the air and bike lights illuminate the bush.

  “Where the fuck is he?” I bellow. I’m so sick of this fucking chase.

  We need to get to him before they do or we’re never getting either him or Rhi back.

  16

  Rhiannon

  I stink. I can’t remember the last time I took a shower. Looking down, I wipe at the smudges of dirt coating my jeans, but it’s a futile act, even laundry detergent won’t get these clean now.

  The trouble with the long, empty days is that my mind does its best to taunt me over and over. I can’t help but feel angry that I’ve been left by my family. That my dad, Slade and Brenner, even Scorch, would be so quick to give up trying to lo
ok for me.

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

  I blink, looking at Buzz as though he spoke in a foreign language. “What?”

  “Knowing no fucker gives a shit whether you’re dead or alive.”

  Shaking my head, I swallow back the hurt and deny him his cruelty. “They do give a shit!”

  He sniggers, his lip curled with distaste. “Every single brother is only out for themselves, Rhi. Stop being so fucking naïve!”

  Narrowing my eyes on him, I prod at the rage that’s festering inside him like a slumbering lion. “So, Tats was only ever out for himself. He didn’t give one single damn about you?”

  Spit sprays from him when he hisses, “Don’t you dare speak his name. He was worth more than a thought from a whore!”

  His moods are chaotic, one minute his climbing the walls and calling me worse than shit and in the next, he’s rocking in the corner telling me he’s sorry.

  “Oh,” I scoff in outrage. “Now I’m a whore, huh? So, what would I have been if I had opened my legs for your brother like he wanted? Eh? Even though I didn’t fuck Tats, I’m still a whore! Make up your mind, Buzz. You’re nothing but a hypocrite!”

  I expect a backhander for my outburst, so I’m surprised when he sighs heavily as though my words have defeated him.

  “Aren’t we all hypocrites in some way?”

  He moves across the room, and I watch him in the meagre bit of light the small fire and few scattered candles provide. There’s been no electricity running through this house in years, and I wonder how long it has been stood empty. Only ghosts live here now.

  With an outstretched hand, Buzz wipes a finger along the dust covering the old shelf that’s precariously hanging above the fireplace. He looks down, watching as he smudges it between his fingers. His mood is somber and I don’t understand why.

  “Buzz?”

  “I remember one year,” he says so quietly I can barely hear him. “Tats and me, we got into so much trouble.” His gaze is locked on the fire roaring in the pit. I’m not even sure he’s aware I’m even in the room with him. “It was so cold. It was just an old book. I’d never even seen her read it.” He shudders, the phantom chill biting at his bones. “Mom beat our asses so hard, we couldn’t sit down for days.”

  Suddenly his eyes snap to me, and he sneers. “Still, that was nothing to what that cunt did to us.”

  Ice races through my blood and goosebumps prickle my skin. The emotion pouring from him, the hatred in those venom words, exhibit the evident cruelty Buzz and Tats had been subjected to by their own father. I didn’t have to be a psychologist to make that out. It was common knowledge that Tats, and Buzz’s dad had beat their mother to death, but no one really knew exactly what the brothers had gone through in the short time they lived with their parents. For all I knew, their mother could have been a prized freaking bitch, but, even with the bitter tone of his voice, it is evident that Buzz loved her very much.

  “You burnt her book?”

  He nods and exhales at length before he chuckles. “War and peace! Can you imagine her ever reading that?”

  I shake my head even though I never knew his mom.

  “At least she could read, I suppose. She taught me and my brother fuck all, the dumb bitch.” As if calling his own mother a bitch hurt him, he jerks.

  “What was she like?” The lump in my throat aches as I sit wondering if he’ll answer me. Just when I think my question will go unanswered, he sighs and comes to sit on the worn blanket beside me.

  “Pretty. I remember her voice was so soft.” His eyes light up with love. “Wasn’t much of a clever one, but she tried her best.”

  I nod, allowing my own memories in. “My mom loved to read to us, but she couldn’t cook for a fucking dime.” I chuckle at the images in my head. “It was always a competition between me and my brothers to guess whatever concoction she had slopped on a plate.”

  A rare smile touches his lips as he looks at me. “As thick as Mom was, she was pretty damn mean with a stove. Her chicken pot pie, never tasted one as good since.”

  “If it didn’t come with microwave instructions it didn’t go on a plate.” I laugh. “My dad used to take us to the club just so the club women could feed us. It was a possibility we’d have starved otherwise.” I shake my head and tug a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “You’re lucky,” he states sadly. “That you were loved so much.”

  I want to reach out and take his hand, but I know it won’t be appreciated. “I’m sure your mom loved you too.”

  He scoffs, and biting his lip, he turns away from me. I know the subject is now closed, the way his body suddenly tenses is a sure sign that the moment we shared over our mutual grief is now exhausted. I want to talk some more, anything to stop the boredom from settling back in, but darting up from the blanket, Buzz throws another piece of wood on the fire and stalks from the room.

  Loneliness creeps back in when the silence wraps itself around me once more. Talking about my mother had given my mind a moments respite from the nightmare continually playing like the old black and white films in my head. I hated all those stupid movies. Slade loved them, and me and Brenner had always teased him when we’d caught him watching them. He’d recently told me that Avery loved them too, and the two of them watched them often. I smile. It’s a happy smile, knowing my brother has someone in his life that loves the same quirks he does. I know if any of the Lilith’s brothers were to ever find out about his secret indulgences, they’d rib the crap out of him. They’d not let it rest for months when they found out about his love for lemon tea.

  My heart pangs. I miss both him and Brenner. Brenner’s an ass, but he’s still my brother, I can’t help but love him. I know I’m sometimes blind to what he does, and that on more than one occasion it’s been me personally that slips the blinds over my eyes. I don’t want to know what he’s done. Yes, that makes me ignorant as well as selfish, but I love him, I suppose nothing, good or bad, will ever change that. It’s out of my control. Even the fact that he’s left me here to suffer whatever Buzz has planned for me.

  I can hear Buzz moving around in the kitchen. I don’t want to be alone, so I go in search of him. There’s no point trying to run, besides the door being locked, I know damn well he’d catch me, I’m not willing to bait the beast that lives so close to the edge in him.

  I stop midtrack, my foot hovering in the hallway by the front door. Slowly spinning around, I focus on the keyhole and pause. Something niggles in the back of my mind, and I can’t put my finger on what it is. It’s locked, that much I do know.

  Tipping my head, I study the door like it’s got all the answers and will personally answer me when I ask quietly, “What am I missing?”

  Missing?

  What is missing?

  A key. But it’s locked all the same. It’s locked with a key. A key Buzz must have to lock it. Why would Buzz have a key to a rundown house?

  Unless it wasn’t just any old house!

  My heart stampedes as I move back into the room with the fire. Looking around, the only thing in there is an old worn table, a stack of old phone books, a wooden chair sat in front of the windows. Tatty brown drapes that are full of holes hang from where they are nailed into the wall above the alcove, damaged blinds fill the top half of the frame.

  Slowly I stroll to the window and taking the drapes in my hand I run the material through my fingers. Drapes was most often a woman’s touch. Men wouldn’t bother with a them if there were blinds present, so it’s apparent that a woman used to live here. And, maybe, it hadn’t been just any woman that had once lived here.

  The soft laughter of a non-existent ghost lingers in my mind. Tender lullabies sung by the phantom who once resided in these very walls echoes in my head and the delicate scent of a chicken pot pie cooking occupies my senses.

  I smile as I look around the nearly barren room. The shadows of two young boys, giggling as they tear the pages from a book and throw them onto the embers of the fire
make my smile grow further.

  “You’re home,” I whisper to Buzz, even though I know he won’t hear me. “You’ve come home.”

  17

  Scorch

  She’s faceless. No, she’s not.

  She’s Rhiannon.

  She’s a whore, just a random whore.

  I hate that I’m doing this again. Fucking some casual bitch that gives me an outlet for my balls to empty into. I hate more that I can’t make love to the person I need.

  I know that if we find Brenner before we find Buzz that I’m gonna empty a round into him as well. Frost is going crazy, the poor motherfucker. His sister is still missing, and his old lady still refuses to see him, and I’m cracking my skull going mad without Rhiannon.

  I think to how Frost feels about Avery, and I know that if I ever get Rhi back then no matter what Frost says, I’m taking her as my old lady, if she’ll have me. I’ll wait until she’s twenty-one if I have to. I know she feels the same. I’ve seen the way she looks at me, and I know. She does, right?

  I’m so angry at myself for being such a coward and not telling her sooner how I feel. Now it’s all fucked up and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to tell her how much I love her.

  She must think I’m a right douchebag. I’m not even brave enough to face her brother and do something about how we both feel.

  She’s so strong. The things life has thrown at her and she still pulls her shoulders back and carries on. She always sticks a huge fuck you to the world and smiles.

  Rhiannon has always loved life, no matter what it has thrown at her. She still smiles, she still laughs, and she still loves everything important to her with a passion.

  “Are you okay?”

  I blink at the red headed bitch and nod. She carries on sliding up and down my cock. Maybe she is also thinking of someone else, perhaps she’s pretending I’m the cunt she wants to pin beneath her.

  I’m surprised I’ve even got a hard-on. I’ve been lost in my own thoughts for a while now. Except, when her orgasm hits she screams like a banshee. I want to roll my eyes but know it’s not appropriate behavior when a woman comes. Maybe she’ll slap me. Hah! Wish her luck with that one.