Lawless (King #3)

by T. M. Frazier

  Fifteen or so pounds didn’t look good on her. It looked great on her.

  “You seriously don’t remember?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest which made them pop out of her top even more. King reached out and uncrossed them, and that’s when I noticed it through the fabric of her shirt. A slightly rounded belly. Like she’d recently… “Fuck, I’m a dumb shit,” I admitted, finally realizing what I’d forgotten. “Congrats, guys, I mean it,” I said, pulling Ray in for another hug that was rewarded with yet another growl from King.

  Now my chest hurt for an entirely new reason. My friends, closer to me than any family, had a baby while I was away and I hadn’t even remembered Ray was pregnant.

  A shrill scream came from the other room and then stopped just as fast as it had started.

  “She’s been doing that every few minutes since Gus brought her here,” Ray said, pulling away from King. “Sally, who runs one of the Granny Growhouses. She’s a retired nurse. She just left a few minutes ago. She cleaned and bandaged her up best she could where the girl would let her, but every time she tried to take off her shorts to inspect the damage the girl kicks and screams. Whatever happened, I think it was brutal to say the least.”

  Kings eyes darted to mine and I knew what he was thinking. He was the only one who knew what Eli and his group of cunts did to me and he was searching my face for any sort of reaction. I wasn’t a chump. I wasn’t some chick whose virginity was stolen. It was torture. Plain and simple. Did we kill every last one of those motherfuckers?

  Yes, we did.

  “Great of you guys to take her in, but you ever think she might be on their payroll? That she’s not a victim but out to get info?”

  “Crossed my mind. Don’t say shit around her just in case. But I’ll tell you something. If her beat down was all for show, it’s a pretty impressive act,” King said.

  “You should go in and check on her. If she starts to shake or anything, Sally said to put her in the warm shower,” Ray said.

  “Fuck!” I said, running my hands through my hair. “Shock? What if this is real? What the fuck did they do to her?”

  “Ray’s been with her all night and she’s been either sleeping or screaming, but hasn’t said anything about what happened,” King said.

  “She’s just a fucking kid!” I yelled. “You don’t think that he would…” But I answered my own question. “He would. He totally would. And not just him either…” I trailed off. I walked over to the couch and sat down feeling my stomach turn over and over again when I thought of Chop raping a little girl and then letting the sick fucks, and there were several in the club, have at her.

  “How did she get your ring?” King asked.

  “I was a dumb kid and I gave it to a little girl because she didn’t call the cops when Skid held her at gunpoint at a gas station. I never expected to see her again. I told her a story. A lie. Told her if she ever needed anything to come find me and give me the ring and I had to do whatever she asked of me. Thought she’d forget all about it.”

  “You should go in and see her,” Ray said. “If she really did come to you to seek some sort of help from you, seeing you, knowing that you’re here, might do her some good.”

  “Why?” I asked. “She doesn’t know me. I haven’t seen her since I gave her the ring years ago.” I sprang off the couch. “Chop wanted to send me a message by beating on and possibly raping a little girl. What I’m going to do is sneak back into the clubhouse and slit my old man’s throat and then hit the road again. This shit shouldn’t be at your doorstep. I won’t let it happen again. I’ll put her in the van and drop her at the hospital. We’ll both be gone by morning.”

  “Don’t you think that if you take her to the hospital you run the risk of ruining whatever it was she needed your help for?” Ray asked.

  “Never thought I’d hear you suggest a hospital,” King said.

  “It was a lie! A joke. I was a dumb fucking kid!” I dropped my head in my hands.

  And now you’re a dumb fuck pushing thirty, Ghost Preppy chimed in.

  “Go in there and you tell me if the girl in there looks like a fucking joke.”

  “I’ll take care of it. I’m not a Bastard anymore. I’m not worried about hospitals or getting caught. Besides, if she’s a fucking rat what the fuck does it matter? I’ll drop her and be on my way.”

  “Where?” Ray asked.

  “Wherever that’s not here,” I said.

  “That hurts you know,” Ray said, disentangling herself from King.

  “You can’t run forever man,” King said.

  “I’m not running from those fuckers!” I yelled. Ray’s eyes darted to the closed door, I lowered my voice again.

  No, but you’re running from yourself.

  “I have to go check on the baby,” Ray said, stepping toward the door. She picked up a radio looking thing off the table on her way out. “Baby monitor,” she said, holding it up with a tight smile on her face. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her, but I didn’t know how to fix it. I just needed to leave. To be on my own. To figure out my fucking life.

  Why didn’t they get that?

  “What’s the baby’s name?” I called out to her, but it was too late. Ray was already gone.

  King lifted the gauze from the side of his neck revealing an intricate new tat in grey and black lettering that read NICOLE GRACE.

  “You named your kid after the whore who shot at your girl?” I asked.

  “There was more to that and you know it. Besides, Nicole Grace is a lot better than what Sammy and Max wanted to name her.”

  “And what was that?

  “Baby Pancakes,” King said, rolling his eyes and smiling.

  “Maybe a little better. But holy shit on the tat man. Ray did that? That’s good fucking work.”

  King ripped the rest of the gauze off and chucked it into a nearby trash bin. “And yeah, it is. She gets better every day. You should see some of the shit she sketches.”

  “What’s HER name?” King asked, jerking his chin at the closed door.

  “Thia,” I said. “Her mom calls her Cindy, but she hates it,” I said, remembering her words to me from all those years ago. “If this is a ploy by Chop, and she’s in on it, you best believe that I don’t give a shit how old she is. I’m sending her back to the MC in a fucking body bag.”

  “Agreed,” King said. “But how long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

  “Six years, maybe seven?” I answered scratching the hair under my nose. “Why?”

  “Cause that girl in there? She’s young. But she’s no fucking kid.” As the last word left his mouth, another shrill scream pierced through the air.

  “I’ll go get Ray,” King said.

  “No, let her be with the baby, I’ll go in. Better I figure out what the fuck is going on sooner rather than later.”

  King nodded but then he stopped, again searching my face for something I already knew wasn’t there. “You sure you’re good man?”

  “Yeah man, I’m sure. Go. Get some sleep,” I said, waving him off.

  King went to leave but turned back around. “Sit on the ‘going to slit your old man’s throat’ plan for the night. We’ll talk it out in the morning. Whatever you need. I’m in.”

  That’s when I realized what was different about King. The anger. The anger that he’d been drowning in since before Ray arrived, was gone. That’s why he seemed different. Lighter.

  Calmer.

  It freaked me the fuck out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Bear

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  Maybe it was all the fucking blow or mainlining Jack for months, but I was really starting to question my sanity. The picture King had sent me of the girl had been blurry at best and I couldn’t make out her face, but I’d known it was the same girl from the gas station from the weird pink color of her hair.

  Thia.

  Her name was Thia, I remembered.

  I thought I kne
w what to expect when I entered that room.

  I was so fucking wrong.

  Thia’s long hair was splayed out above her on the pillow and it wasn’t so much the pink I remembered, but more of a blonde with a hint of red. Her skin was pale, except for the dark bruising on the side of her lip and the butterfly stitch covering a cut on the side of her eye that was getting darker and darker as the seconds ticked by. The circles under her eyes were a deep purple underneath her thin skin.

  She was beat the fuck to hell.

  She was also so fucking beautiful. I was so taken aback by her that I felt like she wasn’t unconscious at all, but instead had just slapped me upside the fucking head.

  When her lips parted she drew in a breath, arching her back off the bed, pushing out her tits against the thin blanket, before collapsing again.

  My fucking cock sprang to life.

  “Bad fucking timing, asshole,” I muttered to myself.

  Whether she was a fucking trap or not, someone, probably my old man, had worked her over real good.

  Seeing her in person was so different than looking at a picture. Being in the same room as her, watching as she wrestled in her sleep, the anger I felt minutes ago toward my old man amplified by a thousand. The cords in my neck strained and I balled my fists.

  I wasn’t JUST going to kill Chop.

  I was going to gut the motherfucker.

  Thia thrashed about wildly, her arms and legs limp and useless as she rolled from side to side. Her mouth opened and closed, her nose wrinkled and her eyebrows drew in like she was having a heated conversation with someone in her dream. She thrashed about again, this time kicking the sheets and blankets off the bed.

  I sucked in a breath.

  She wasn’t wearing a shirt or a bra, her tits were full, high, rounded, and perfect. My cock hadn’t gotten my earlier message to tame the fuck down, because again it twitched in my pants as all the blood from my brain rushed to my dick until it was straining painfully against my zipper. Thia rolled over onto her side so she was facing me and I was able to get a better view of her light pink nipples. There was a mark on her left tit and when I leaned in to inspect it I saw red.

  Bright fucking red rage.

  Teeth.

  A fucking bite mark on her fucking nipple.

  I stood over Thia as a confused mixture of hate, rage, and lust swam around inside of me. I added decapitation to the list of things I was going to do to Chop and possibly burning off his own fucking nipples beforehand.

  On the other hand, if the bitch was working for Chop, it was going to be a shame to have to finish what he’d started on such a perfect body.

  I paced the room, cracking my knuckles and breathing fire. If this was King’s old place I’d probably have already punched a hole in the fucking drywall and suddenly wished that the old dilapidated garage that used to be covered with my Johnny Cash posters and Beach Bastards flags hadn’t been replaced by new, fresh, and white paint.

  Thia sat up suddenly and opened her eyes revealing large round and doll-like emerald greens beneath the surface. “Bear,” she whispered, locking her gaze onto me. Her one hand flew up to her chest to grab my skull ring which was dangling on a chain between her tits.

  I opened my mouth, but I didn’t have a chance to say anything, because her eyes rolled back in her head and she started to convulse.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Thia

  Warmth. I was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and comfort I never wanted to emerge from.

  “You dead, Darlin’?” A deep voice penetrated the silence, calling me back from the darkness.

  Warm water cascaded onto my skin. I was sitting down on the slippery surface of a shallow bathtub while strong arms cradled me against a broad hard chest. Something huge and hard prodded my back, causing my eyes to fly open.

  Panic poured into my veins like I’d been shot in the heart with adrenaline.

  I sat up and turned my head, staring directly into the sapphire blue pools that made my skin crawl and bile rise in my throat.

  It couldn’t be. I thought I’d gotten away.

  CHOP.

  “Nooo!!!!” I screamed, scrambling away, trying to hoist my leg over the ledge, but only managing to lift my leg high enough to hit my knee directly into the side of the bathtub.

  The same strong arms wrapped around me and tugged me back underneath the spray.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  This can’t be happening.

  But it was.

  It was happening all over again, and I couldn’t. Fucking. Breathe.

  “Look at me!” the voice ordered, and when I didn’t comply he kept one hand wrapped around my shoulders and used the other to turn my chin to face him. I fought him using every ounce of strength I had, but it wasn’t enough. I was tired. Weak. The muscles in my neck gave out and I was forced to again look into the eyes of my captor.

  There was a hardness and an anger, a violence, lurking in the bright eyes before me. A deep down exhaustion I could relate to, however there was no outright hatred, no malice.

  It wasn’t him.

  It wasn’t Chop.

  I had gotten away after all.

  But where had I gotten away to?

  “Bear?” I asked. Despite being surrounded by water my throat was dry and scratchy, my words came out like I’d been in the desert for months breathing in sand. “How are you here?”

  “No, you’ll answer my questions first,” Bear said, peering down at me like he’d never seen me before in his life. “Don’t worry about where you are or how I’m here. You need to be more concerned about telling me why you’re here and who sent you.” Trails of water ran down his face, dripping off of the bottom of his beard which was much longer than I remembered it being. He brushed some of the wet hair from my forehead. I jerked away from his touch, my body still in full panic mode.

  Remembering the prodding on my back I looked down to where his jeans bulged. Bear’s eyes followed mine. “Can’t help that. All my cock knows is that I’m in the shower with someone who has a pussy.” I lifted my hands to cover my naked breasts, suddenly all too aware of my nakedness, but thankful I was still wearing my shorts.

  My muscles felt like rubber that had been melting in the heat of the sun like a tire in the middle of the highway.

  Used, spent, hot, useless.

  Broken.

  Bear wanted to know why I was there.

  Why was I there?

  Something had happened before I went to the MC. Before Chop. But my brain was foggy and I couldn’t see the images of the day that were just beyond my grasp.

  “I don’t understand,” I said. This time when I spoke I felt a tug at the corner of my lip. I touched the spot with my fingertips, discovering a soft scab over a fresh wound.

  “You don’t remember going to the MC?” Bear asked, raising a brow. I don’t know who the man sitting in front of me was because there was none of the charm and carefreeness that practically dripped off of the Bear from seven years ago. This man was like a vacant version of his younger self.

  I closed my eyes and dropped my forehead to my knees. “I remember riding my bike. I remember the rain. I remember going up to the gate. A prospect named…Pick? Peck? No, Pecker let me in.”

  “Never liked that little twat,” Bear scoffed.

  Why did I go to the MC?

  Think, Thia. Think. Why are you with Bear right now?

  The images I’d been reaching for began to flash in my mind like Polaroid pictures being thrown into a stack, each one containing a flash of memory, one after the other.

  My mother sitting in the rocking chair in Jesse’s old room.

  The gun in her hand.

  My father’s lifeless body.

  The shotgun in my hand.

  My mother’s blood against the white of the side of the house.

  I gasped as the photos began to stack up higher and higher, filling my brain with images I never wanted to see again. This couldn’t be real. I had to be
dead. Mama was right. I was going to hell. Because that’s exactly where it felt like I was.

  My stomach rolled. Acid and bile rose in my throat. I covered my mouth with my hand.

  “Hey! You still in there? Come back,” Bear asked, sounding like a far away echo as the pictures kept flashing in my brain.

  A river of blood.

  So much blood.

  Bear grabbed hold of my shoulders and began shaking me. “Whose blood? What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I killed my mother!” I blurted, leaning over the side of the tub just in time to heave the little I had left in my stomach into the porcelain toilet. “That’s why…that’s why I came to see you.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, opening the scab on my lip, fresh blood and vomit streaked my skin. “I…I killed her.”

  Bear turned the shower off and leaned over me, grabbing his phone off the top of the toilet tank. “Where?” he asked, pressing a button on the phone. The screen lit up and he held it to his ear. “Damn it girl. Where?”

  “Where what?” I asked into the toilet.

  “Where? As in where is your mom’s body? Where is she right fucking now?” he asked angrily, sliding me forward so he could stand up.

  My mother’s body.

  “Uh. Um she’s…” I said, trying to catch my breath long enough to not be sick again. “Home. She’s home. In Jessep.” Without the hot water against my skin I started to shake violently. The skin on my fingers ached they were so pruned.

  “Ray, is King up there?” he barked into the phone. “Tell him to get his ass down here.” He pressed a button on the phone and tossed it onto the counter. He stood, lifting me up under my shoulders as he stepped over the rim of the tub and onto the tile. He closed the lid on the toilet and set me down on it. Tearing a towel from the wall rack he tossed it to me and I immediately wrapped it around my shoulders.

  “Your jeans are all wet,” I said flatly, staring at the soaked through dark denim sitting low on Bear’s hips, probably lower than they usually did with the weight of the water pulling them down further. There wasn’t a spot on his chest or arms that hadn’t been touched by the needle of a tattoo gun. Colorful and vibrant against his smooth muscular skin.