Raw Torque_A Motorcycle Club Romance_Gravediggers MC

by Kathryn Thomas

  Once I reach the fourth floor, I push the heavy metal fire door ajar. Lying on top of the first few stairs, I watch two sets of feet pace outside the door. There are no weapons, but one man has his hand on his pocket, feeling the bulge of the gun tucked away.

  “What time does Vice get back?”

  “An hour, he said.”

  “One of the girls hit platinum. Tony just called it up.”

  “He’ll be glad about that. Boss hasn’t gotten puss—” He suddenly stops when he notices me standing in the doorway, my arms outstretched to hold it open. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Sissy,” I say, with confidence and a sultry smile, trying to emulate the girl’s voice as best as possible. A thing like her was probably widely known by these guys. “I hit platinum. I’m sure you heard. I want my champagne.”

  The men eye one another. The second one seems to sense something, but he’s too dumb to go much beyond that. “You usually don’t come up until after your shift is done,” he says.

  “I know, I know. But I’m eager and so, so, sore.” I walk towards him and place my hands on his chest. My braless press against him. He stiffens under my touch. “I guess I could wait…”

  “No,” he answers with an unsteady voice. “Just go in.” He even opens the door for me. What a gentleman… I almost can’t believe it. I give both of them a show of my ass as I strut towards the door, making sure they get their money’s worth. After I pull this off, who knows what’s going to happen to the girls who inadvertently aided me.

  I sit myself down on a long leather couch and flick on one of the lamps. The man holding the door smiles and then shuts it behind me. I listen to them for a short time, laughing to themselves while describing my “tight” body and how I’m just Vice’s type.

  Apparently, he’s got a thing for tan chicks.

  But as their voices grow more and more distant, I get to work. Breaker mentioned the safe being somewhere in his office. I have to be in the right spot, but this looks more like a bedroom than anything. The couch has a queen-sized, plush throw blanket tossed over the side and several luxury pillows too, with a large screen TV hanging in the center of a bare wall. There isn’t even a computer in here. Office my ass.

  As I turn to check under the couch, something red and shiny catches my eye, glimmering under the lamplight. I walk towards it, studying it until I confirm it’s what I’m looking for. I pull the safe out from the hiding space between two empty bookshelves. While it’s not much, it’s heavy. I nearly drop it as I try to lift it onto the couch.

  Kneeling before it, my heart sinks. I’ve never been the best lockpicker, even with my ex’s help. And this safe has a lock I’ve never come across before. It looks almost digital, with no key point. How the hell am I supposed to—

  A loud slam forces me to hit the ground. The door breaks open, nearly tearing off of its hinges. My pulse surges into overdrive as a pair of boots steps into the light.

  “You find it?” Breaker stands before me like a cowboy in one of those old Westerns. His hands look bloodied and bruised, and he wipes a bit of sweat from his temple. I tilt my head and see the boots of one of the guards resting against the floor.

  “Don’t worry,” he says like he’s read my mind, “I didn’t kill them. Just knocked out.” He holds up a long metal pipe-shaped tool that he must’ve gotten from the back of the truck.

  I move out of the way, letting him take over opening the safe. He studies it for a few moments, turning it over and looking at it from every angle. Finally, he takes the pipe and slams it at the screen. The red metal box dents, and the screen cracks and sparks. A little puff of smoke comes out one of its ends. He hits it again, this time harder with the pipe above his head for a better swing.

  After the third hit, the box pops open.

  My mouth goes dry as I peer over his shoulder. Thirty Gs never looks like much when you see it in hundred dollar bills, but it’s still got that distinct smell of paper money wrapped in rubber band stacks. Breaker places them in his pockets and in the lining of his coat that I now only just notice belongs to another member of the Devil’s Fighters.

  “Is that all of it?” I ask in a hushed tone.

  “It should be. It feels right.” I don’t want to know how he knows what this kind of money feels like. “Let’s get the hell out of here before someone notices those two punks are out cold.”

  Breaker reaches back, offering me his hand. I take it as we sprint off towards the stairs. The metal once again rattles under us, but this time, I can’t stop to hear if anyone is coming from above or below. We have no choice but to run.

  When we get closer to the bottom, Breaker slows and lets go of my hand. He says something to me, some instruction, but I don’t catch it. He gestures to the door on the opposite side of the room; the getaway door. Get there, and we are practically home. Get there, and we live.

  He walks ahead of me, keeping his head down as he passes some stacked boxes and a few guys chatting over some beers. No one gives him a second look. No one even notices him. But someone notices me. April.

  “Minnie! Come on! We gotta go. The car’s waiting!” I’m only halfway to the other side of the building, but now I’ve got a choice to make. Go with her and keep this ruse up so that Breaker can escape or run away as fast as possible and risk it all.

  I take too long to decide and a door slams. Everyone turns.

  It takes a few seconds but then I hear Vice’s gravely voice shout me down, “Why the fuck is she here?”

  I freeze, knowing we could be royally fucked. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Breaker walk towards him. Everything in my body goes numb as I hear Breaker tell Vice, “She’s here to rob you, man.” He drops the stacks of bills at his feet.

  I shake my head as tears cloud my vision. No... He couldn’t have done this to me. Breaker couldn’t have played me. Could he?

  I swallow the hard, sore lump forming at the back of my throat and manage to cry out to him with venom, “You motherfucker! How could you?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Breaker

  “How could you? How could you do this to me! To us! Breaker!” Aimee’s eyes are wide and livid as she pushes up against the two men attempting to restrain her. Her tan, muscular arms thrash from side to side, forcing a third biker to intervene and grab her by the hips.

  “Get that bitch out of here! Bring her up to my office, and this time, make sure there are men up there who can actually play lookout,” Vice spits. He’s exactly how I remember him to be in the few encounters we’ve had, and that bald head with the fresh tattoos only makes him look more ominous.

  Aimee screams back at me again, “Breaker! Are you serious? Why did you do this!?”

  I don’t look at her, staring at the ground under my feet instead. I can’t bare to see her taken away from me, knowing that I’m the one responsible for it.

  She puts up a fight all the way up the four flights of stairs. Not that I didn’t expect anything different from her. So many underestimate a girl like Aimee. They think she’s broken and rundown, but she’s much more than that. She’s got spunk and fire. She’s tenacious. I was confident of that when I made the choice to out us, and I know it’s going to get her through what comes next.

  Finally, the room goes silent. About a dozen men have formed a circle around me, each with a makeshift weapon in their hands. Some clutch broken pairs of scissors from the packing supplies, while another few have pieces of plywood thrown over their shoulders. The rest have guns.

  This is my cue to drop mine. With caution, I lift my bare hands towards Vice to show him I’m clear. Then, I make a motion towards my pants.

  “Let me take mine out. I’ll completely unload.” I’m not even through my sentence when he lifts his chin towards two men behind me. They manhandle me, tossing my arms higher. Their burly hands travel the length of my body, finding my stash of weapons easily. One by one, they examine what I’m carrying with sly, satisfied grins. In our world, this was equal to stri
pping a man down.

  “Is that it?” Vice asks though I’m not sure to who. I stiffen in response while the other two nod back to him. “Good. Now that that’s taken care of, I want to know who the hell you are and why the fuck you think you could get away with robbing me.”

  I don’t see it coming. The guy’s fast—too fast. He lands a jab straight to my diaphragm so that the air seeps out of me like a popped balloon. Every muscle in my abs contract and the strength in my knees gives way. They hit the ground with a clunk, and I have to use my hands to keep me from falling head first at his feet.

  “I’m Breaker Monroe. I—”

  He interrupts me, looking towards the man I assume is his second or an assistant. “Breaker Monroe?” he growls. “I know that name. How the fuck do I know that name?”

  “He’s with the Gravediggers, sir.” The second man crosses his arms over his chest; his face lit up like it’s Christmas morning. Something tells me that they’ve been looking for me.

  “You’re fucking kidding me!” Vice kneels before me, not taking his steely black eyes off of me. “This pile of shit is the Breaker Monroe that got away with his men from the Eagles? This motherfucker was the one that drove the getaway for that job back in Denver? That must mean... “

  “The girl. She’s probably the one that robbed Anderson at the bank!” The second man is all too eager to get in Vice’s way. Vice shoots him a look that says, “Get the fuck out of here,” and the guy scurries away obediently towards an office near the entrance. No one else bothers to speak. It’s clear who holds the balls in this club.

  Vice turns his attention back to me. His long fingers pick up my chin, forcing me to look dead at him. I still haven’t recovered from the first hit; otherwise, I’d sucker punch the prick right in the damn face. But with the air still flooding back into my burning lungs, I have to listen to his slimy voice.

  “I suppose it’s like that old phrase they say about fools. Rob me once, shame on you. Rob me twice, and well, I learned that lesson. Killed Anderson the day we found him on the interstate for being so incompetent. But a third time…”

  “... time to get a new damn club?” I offer, knowing what was going to come next. A boot slams into my eye, knocking me blind this time. I can’t see the other men as they dogpile up on me. There’s a flurry of fists pummeling into my flesh. Low, bloodthirsty shouts batter my eardrums. Something hits my head—once, twice, and then nothing.

  Everything goes blank. I fall into the darkness without even trying to hold on. The void takes me away, and I’m floating. I try to force myself awake, promising that if I could just move my arms or kick my feet, I could get some revenge. But nothing happens. It only gets darker, colder, more silent... until there is nothing.

  “HELP ME! PLEASE! ANYONE! HELP ME!”

  Aimee? I try to turn my head towards the sound, but the muscles in my neck won’t budge. Then there’s that whole thing with my eyes. Bruised and battered, I can only get the lids open enough that a small burst of light pops through. I try speaking next, but my lips and mouth taste like fresh blood, causing me to gag.

  “No! Please! Please don’t. I’ll stop. I will. Just don’t—” Aimee’s voice rumbles through the room as if she’s right next to me, but by the echo, I know I’m most likely hearing her through a grate or through the walls of a few empty rooms between us.

  I have to get to her. Every instinct tells me that I need to rescue her. Whatever they are doing in there with her is much worse than what they’ve done to me. A few cuts, some bruises, a concussion—that’s nothing. They’ll kill me quick, but they’ll torture her for what she has done to their club. And that’s a far worse fate for a person like Aimee to endure.

  Wherever she is, she’s gone quiet again. The hairs on my neck stand on edge. Something ain’t right. I force my eyes open wider, and that light grows, but as soon as I can come to my senses, I realize that it’s just the light from the crack under the door. They placed my body on the floor of an open, blank room that smells of mothballs and dust clouds. The carpet under me is stained and wet. It’s most likely my blood I’m lying on, but with Vice, you never know.

  The light flashes dark. The shadows of two feet, then more, pop into view through the crack. I turn everything off in my mind so that I can hear the men speak.

  “You know what to do with the girl and our guest, Nico?”

  “Yeah, boss. But you sure you don’t want some backup in there? I’ve heard stories about that guy. He’s not just—”

  Vice walks closer to the door so that I can hear his hand take the metal handle as he responds, “Do your job. Don’t worry about mine. I’ll call you when you go to the next step.”

  Quickly, I force myself up, darting towards the corner of the room so that I can use the two pieces of wall to prop myself up. The worst thing I can do is come across as weak from a little beating like that. Obviously, those guys heard the rumors about me. They know about my past. If anything, I have a reputation to uphold, and I can use that to convince Vice.

  “Well, well, well,” Vice snickers, “Someone’s up—finally.”

  I wonder how long I’ve actually been out for. Judging by the tiny window in the corner, the sun is just beginning to rise. So it couldn’t be more than three or four hours since we left the Gravediggers’ bar.

  “You’re not looking too bad,” he continues, hardly able to contain his glee. “I’m disappointed. I thought you would have bled out by now.”

  I grit my teeth and push through the pain in my stomach as I try to speak. “Didn’t want to ruin your carpet, Vice,” I pant. “That would have been rude of me.”

  “That would’ve been a real issue…” He tries to hold back something, maybe a smile. This guy was a prick like me. They all are. It takes bravado and a ton of ego to get to this point of being the president of a club.

  “So then, tell me, Breaker. Why the fuck are you here? Who gave away our location? And why did you turn yourself in?”

  Aha. Now, he’s finally made it to the real questions at hand. I thought we’d never get here, or that I would’ve been a corpse in the back of his truck by the time it dawned on him that I gave us away to him instead of just dashing out the door with the safe in my hand.

  “I have something that you want, Vice. And you have something that I need. I came here to make a deal.”

  “You fucking steal my safe and pretend like you actually came here to make me a bargain?”

  I cough back the taste of blood pooling in my throat, ignoring the red splotch on the inside of my fist when it’s done. “No, that was part of Biggs’ plan. He forced Aimee and me to rob you—both times, actually. Threatened to kill us if we didn’t. But when I saw you, I realized that we want the same thing.”

  “And what’s that?” he asks, his eyebrows raised, clearly not convinced.

  “We want the Gravediggers.”

  He takes a seat in a metal folding chair camouflaged by the darkness. It creaks as he leans back with his hands resting on his head. “Are you really telling me you’re betraying your club? A guy like you takes that loyalty oath to his grave.”

  “I took a fucking blood oath, man,” I spit back as I remember that day nearly fifteen years ago when I stood before the fire with my hand outstretched over a dug grave. A member cut my wrist so that it bled fiercely. He turned it towards the empty grave and let the red liquid melt with the dust of the earth and the blood of my brothers.

  Their faces pop into my mind, one by one, as I add, “But I took an oath to my club, not to Biggs. He’s been running the club into the ground, stealing money from its members, and challenging us. No more. No more. So I want to make a deal with you.”

  “My brothers and me,” I explain, “we tried to pull a coup. There’s talk of an uprising coming. The club is split into two factions. The oldest, most experienced guys fall in line with me and Hen—with me. They would follow me.” I stop myself with Henry’s name, unsure of how much I should share at this point.

 
; “Huh. So what’s stopping me from finding out where your base is and taking the club myself?”

  “Because we’re more powerful to you alive than dead. You go in there now, and there will be a shootout. Good men, good fighters, and business guys would be out cold trying to defend the Gravediggers. You know that. Your sect of the Eagles took out two of mine.”

  He goes silent, letting me continue. “All I want is your support,” I say. “You take the Gravediggers and keep the colors like you did when you sided with the Eagles. Put a few of my guys in charge and then let us do our business. We’ll pay memberships to you for protection and some business help.”