Raw Torque_A Motorcycle Club Romance_Gravediggers MC

by Kathryn Thomas

  When the doors close, I whisper, “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe you killed Breaker! Was that part of your plan? After he saved you, you go and do this. You’re a bastard, a fucking traitorous piece of shit bastard!”

  “Shut up, Aimee,” Henry hisses back. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  “Do you think I was deaf back there? I heard you! I heard you!” I beat my fists on his back, not caring what he thinks or tries next. I just want him to know the pain that has taken over me. This is not what was supposed to happen. We were supposed to make it out of here alive, with the cash, so we could … I don’t know… keep fighting for our damn lives! Not this.

  The elevator beeps, and the door opens. I go limp again, unsure of what or who will be down in the basement waiting for us. All I know is that I don’t want to see what is there. I can’t bear to see his body—Breaker’s body. That was mine to care for, to make love to, to punish when I was angry. And now, I get to see it at its end, and I can’t stand it.

  Henry kicks the door to one of the last rooms in the hallway three times with his boot and then knocks once before fishing a key out of his pocket. With no one around, he places me back on the ground and holds a finger to his mouth. “Stop,” he orders me before I can say anything.

  The door opens, and I hold my breath. Breaker sits upright, slumped on the ground, with his head hanging low. My feet can’t fly fast enough over to him. But just when I’m about three feet away from him, I stop mid-stride. His head lifts, and he smiles; that invincible, impossible smile, all white teeth and thick brown-pink lips.

  I fall to my knees. “Breaker!” I whimper, letting the tears cascade down my cheeks. “I thought you were… They said you were…”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Breaker

  “Dead?” I finish Aimee’s sentence as I crawl over to her. “I feel like it. I look like it, too… no thanks to our pal Henry over here.”

  “Our friend?” she sobs. “What the hell do you mean? He was supposed to kill you and then give me to Vice!”

  I’ve never known a woman who would willingly suffer like this for a man like me. And the craziest thing is, I’ve never seen her look prettier than this; a weather-beaten, vulnerable mess, with the bruises, cuts, and smeared mascara to prove it. Her tough, spoiled-girl wall has been broken down into bits, leaving her looking kind of like a waif, one with an inner strength she didn’t know she had.

  I scoop her up into my arms, smelling her fresh hair and the perfume from days ago that’s still lingering on her like an imprint. In the tangles of her wavy curls, I answer, “He fucking saved us. Just like I knew he would. He owed us one, and now he pulled through.”

  I can hardly believe it myself. Henry was proving to be the master manipulator and plan maker for impossible situations. Back in the room where they held me, he’d explained to me that he conned himself a spot in the Devil’s Fighters with the intention of just getting a safe place to land while he worked on his next step. But every day, he talked to one guy after the other, and just like with the Gravediggers, a few had complaints about Vice’s leadership.

  Within a few days, he’d managed to convince a strong fraction of men to go with him, start a new club, and make a clean break. Their first mission was me. Getting me out of here without drawing suspicion and alive in one piece was crucial because, without me, the Gravedigger men loyal to us wouldn’t budge from Biggs’ side. If we were going to split off into a third group, I was the key.

  But Henry also knew that I wouldn’t leave without Aimee. My whole purpose in getting Vice’s attention when he first caught her sneaking out was to buy us more time and perhaps talk an alliance. When the alliance fell through, I luckily had Henry to help with the time aspect. He took over duties from one of the other enforcers working Aimee, volunteering to take over her interrogation when he was done with me.

  And as he promised, he delivered her safely back into my arms, though I could feel she had lost something along the way. The Devil’s Fighters had managed to break her in the process. That spunk of hers—the strength that carried her through the last month with us—was missing. I could feel it in the way she collapsed into me, pressing her hands into my chest for support.

  “You’re okay now, Aimee,” I reassure her, “you’re safe. We’re going to get the hell out of here. We’ve got a plan already in place. It’ll just be a few minutes, and we’ll have you on our truck headed back to the hotel.”

  “And then what, Breaker? We won’t have the cash. Biggs will kill us. And if he’s planning on selling me to Vice, wouldn’t he just raise the alarm that I’m gone and alive when Biggs contacts him?” She panics as she goes through each scenario. I finally have to hold a finger to her dry lips to get her to stop. Her big green eyes close shut.

  “Can you give us a minute, Henry?” I ask, knowing it’s what she needs. “Get the truck ready and whatever we need to get on outta here.”

  “I’ll go grab the cash. I’ll do the knock when I’m back and it’s time to play, um, dead again.” He scurries away, closing the door behind him. I listen to his footsteps and the sound of the elevator opening and closing seconds later. We’re alone, finally.

  “Breaker… I’m… I need to…” Aimee looks up at me from the crook of my arm. She looks tired, defeated. But there’s something there, something breaking through the surface and boiling to the top. After a moment, she gets it out, “I need to say that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t understand what you were doing back there when you called us out to Vice. Now I get it. You were just trying to get us out of here. You asked me to trust you, and I didn’t.”

  “No, shh, stop,” I insist. I don’t want or need to hear this. “You don’t need to say sorry to me. There was no time to tell you what I was thinking, and I know what it looked like from your side. If I were you, I would’ve killed me with my bare hands.”

  “I thought of that. I really did.” She smiles a little, grimacing from the large bruise on her face. Every part of me wants to take an eraser to her face and take off that physical pain she went through. It’s nothing compared to what Henry did to me to get me down to this room, but it feels like so much more when it’s marked up on her.

  “But that’s not all that I wanted to say to you,” she adds. “I don’t really know how to say this. I don’t know if I can… but here it goes.” Aimee heaves a deep sigh, her body shaking as she exhales, “I love you, Breaker.”

  I go blank. I literally stiffen from my spine to my arms. Maybe she feels it too. She has to with me holding her like this. “Aimee—I...” I struggle to finish the sentence. I know what I know and what I feel, and I can’t answer her right now, not here.

  “Stop, Breaker,” she says, a weary look on her face. “I get it. I do. If this is something you don’t want, then that’s okay too. I just have to say it. It’s been eating me alive since I saw you alive. And it probably was before. You’re the only person in my entire life who has cared about me and protected me even when you shouldn’t. I can’t keep that back anymore. I love you. I love you so much, I’d go to the grave with you.”

  I sense my opening. “Well, then you’re in luck.” I grin wryly. “Because Henry’s back.” I hear boots begin to kick the bottom of the door so that it shakes. And then comes the tap. That was a quick break, but I’m grateful he’s back to break this up. “Remember that I need you to do what Henry says. No question, no fighting it. He knows what he’s doing, and if we’re going to get the fuck out of here alive, it’s going to be because of him.”

  She pulls away from me. “I will.” She nods in agreement. “I will.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it. Her touch is still electric The shock sends waves up and down my arms. How can she still have this effect on me after all this time? How have I not grown tired of her like all the other girls that I’ve fucked on the road? What makes Aimee different?

  Henry walks into the room, a brown bag in his hand. “You ready for this
?” He shoves it towards me.

  “I am. What about those guys? You think you can trust them?” I motion towards the three men standing near the back of the hallway, their eyes fixed on Aimee and me. “I know what you said about dividing the groups, but do you really think they’re going to be okay about going along with this?”

  “I trust them as much as I trust the guys we have with the Gravediggers. We need them as much as they need us. There’s nothing else we can do. Plus, if they don’t join in, this whole thing is going to seem way more suspicious.”

  “Yeah? Then what’s the plan? What are we pulling off here?”

  “The same thing that got you down here. You’re dead. We’re just moving the body. The boys here will help make it look authentic. It’s their job to handle disposal, so they know what to say to make it sound real. They’ve even got the bags they use.” One of the men holds up a long black body bag. God only knows where they got that thing from or if it was used before.

  “Fine. Fine. But what the hell are we going to do about Aimee? You said that Vice was going to be looking for her. Won’t he get a little worried when she doesn’t show up in his office?”

  Aimee walks a few steps closer to me, her arms crossed tight over her body as if to say, “You’re not leaving me here.” At this point, I have zero plans of letting her get a foot out of my site from here on out.

  “We pretend like we’re following orders.” He points to the bag in my hand, “That’s what the bag is for. Put it over your head and look like you’re struggling. They’ll want to see that.”

  Aimee stutters as she asks, “What about you, Henry? When I don’t go up to that room, what are you going to do? Vice will kill you and anyone he thinks is in on it, right?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I’m not coming back.”

  She steps towards him, her hands raised. “Henry?” she says, almost in a whisper.

  “I’m taking everything I can and getting the fuck out of here. A war is coming for all of us, and there’s no stopping it now or backing down from the shit we put into motion. We’re all in as soon as Breaker’s in the bag and your head is covered.”

  Aimee and I look towards one another, each unsure of what to say. He is right, after all, but it’s a thought Aimee and I have avoided discussing. We weren’t going to a safehouse or safe space. We were going from one battlefield to another until Biggs and Vice were taken care of. This was our reality now, and it was time we face it.

  I grab Aimee’s hand again, swinging her around to me. Squatting a bit so that we’re eye level, I repeat, “You remember to trust Henry and me. Please don’t do anything stupid and get us killed?”

  “Only if you promise to do the same, Breaker?” Her lips quiver. I can’t hold myself back from wrapping my arms around her and claiming that pretty mouth. To the side of us, I hear the men shuffle uncomfortably, but I couldn’t give a shit. If this was potentially the last moment I see Aimee alive, it was going to be a damn good one.

  She’s the one that eventually pulls away, pressing her hands to my bruised chest to indicate she’s done. We both stay put, our foreheads resting on one another’s and our breaths trying to catch up with our thoughts.

  Aimee, exhausted, says to Henry, “Let’s do this.” She pulls back her hair into a sort-of ponytail and waits for me to place the bag over her head. I walk her towards the door with her hands tight behind her back. She remains this way as I lean her up against one of the smaller men.

  Two other guys lay out the bag while I wait. It’s just long enough for me, barely. I have to partially bend my knees to get my boots in there. I take a few breaths in—I was never the best at keeping my cool in dark, tight spaces. Henry leans down and with a sadistic little grin, zips the bag with a whoosh. Everything goes blank, but I can feel the guys over me as they begin to bind my legs, arms, and chest together with rope or twine. For something fake, this sure felt real as can be.

  When they’re finished tying me up, Henry must have walked over to Aimee to give her instructions because within seconds I hear her scream and kick. My body lifts off of the ground, and we’re in motion. I concentrate on trying to figure out where in the building they’re taking Aimee and me. Like a procession, we march through what I think must be the basement hallway, up to the top floor, and past some onlookers who occasionally make a remark to one of the guys holding on to me.

  “I wouldn’t think the big guy would go down so fast,” one says to the man holding my legs.

  “He put up a fight. Her too. Old Henry’s got plans for that one.”

  “I thought Vice wanted her alive?”

  “That’s not what I heard. Boss says she goes with him.”

  “Hmm.”

  With that, we move faster, almost at a near jog. I bounce more, rustling against the arms of the men. Their fingers jut into my sore skin, and I bite my tongue so I don’t scream out when one of them hits a fresh bruise from Henry’s pounding.

  The light changes from pitch black to gray as we pass through a loud, metal door that slams behind us. I hear a truck door opening, and my body lifts higher. Aimee sobs and screams, “Please! No! Please! I’ll do anything.” She lies at my feet as they place me inside.

  The four or five men get in beside me as the truck takes off.

  “You okay in there? You can breathe?”

  “Fuck no,” I reply honestly. “Open this fucking thing up as soon as we’re clear.”

  He murmurs something about it being a few miles, but I can barely hear him over the engine and the bouncing metal in the back of the truck. I wait and wait until they think it’s time. Finally, sunlight and a rush of hot and dry Texas air float inside my bag.

  Aimee leans down before my sweaty face, her hair curling around her chin and cheeks. “We’re almost there. Back to the hotel.” She sounds less than excited, but I can’t blame her.

  “Where’s Henry?” I ask, sitting up.

  “He’s driving. Making some calls to the guys in the Gravediggers,” the closest guy to me replies. He hands me a bottle of water and a loaded handgun. “You better drink up. From what I hear, you’ve got a speech to give. Rally the troops and shit.”

  “I’m not sure I’m up for much talking. I just want to take a bath and be done with it.”

  “Not with Vice on your tail. He’s going to have every crooked copper tracking this truck and you all for miles. The whole town will be shut down looking for you guys… and us, I guess. Whatever you gotta do, you gotta get it done tonight.”

  “He’s right, Breaker,” Aimee chimes in. “You’ve gotta get as many of those guys on your side. If not, we’re not going to have the numbers.”

  “I was just going to let them all kill each other and take over when it’s done,” I reply. It’s not far from my original plan, really. Vice is going to think this is all Biggs’ master plan. Biggs is going to see it as an attack on his territory. Hell was going to break out tonight whether we were there or not.

  “What about the guys that are loyal to you? Aren’t you a brotherhood? You talk about that all the time. You can’t abandon them and hope the good ones come out alive, Breaker. That’s not what you want to do. That’s not who you are.”

  I lean back against the hot metal side of the truck ruminating over her words. That’s not who you are. Who am I then? Who the hell am I if I’m not a Gravedigger anymore? No one. I’m back to that scared, overgrown boy living on the reservation with his family, wondering when his life was going to get better. I promised myself then that I didn’t want for anything. I made things happen.

  And I’m going to make things happen tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Aimee

  I stand among the Gravediggers in complete awe of the scene before me. Breaker’s voice booms over the heads of his men, who all look up at him. “Who can put up with this shit anymore? Not me. I know it’s not me.”

  The men around nod in quick agreement. Someone shouts, “Not me!” until it becomes a battle cry, uniting th
em.

  “It’s time to take back the Gravediggers—make it the club that it was always supposed to be. It’s time to stop running, put down our roots, and claim what is rightfully ours!” More screams and hollers when he pauses for dramatic effect.

  “What I’m about to propose isn’t going to make me any friends. In fact, if you want to hightail it the hell out of this bar and never look back, I don’t blame you. What I’ve got to do is for real men anyway—men who care about their pride and the oath they took before the fire. What we have to do is run Biggs out of the Gravediggers for good. We have to take back our club starting with him and those that are faithful!”

  This time, the room goes dead silent. All I hear is the sound of the jukebox playing some old foggy rock song. I can sense the shift from exclamations and rally to something else… something more sinister. Breaker watches, as I do, but no one moves. No one heads for the doors or utters a word of dissent against him. While it isn’t a full-on cry of support, it’s probably the best response he could think of getting when declaring war against the president of his club.