Occasionally Adrian felt the Reapers watching Hank suspiciously, but they seemed to ignore her. Regardless it was downright frightening. If they only knew he was a cop, god knows what would happen to them.
Something was beyond strange about those men. Adrian didn’t study them too closely, for fear of drawing too much attention to herself but sometimes she couldn’t help it.
They inspired a sensation that still didn’t make sense, as if any of her gift made sense. The best way to describe what she sensed in them was a wildness, a dangerous feral strength that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Besides that one time she hadn’t seen anymore shadows, ghosting the men. Adrian wondered more than once since then, if the bikers evil deeds had attracted nasty spirits to latch onto them.
Adrian hobbled along as Hank led her towards the cage. She only had to glance at the two fighters and ask herself the question of who would win before the answer came to her.
It was odd how this came to her so easily when other questions she asked, like would she ever get free, resulted in nothing. What was it with “The Powers that Be” that made them give her some answers and not others? Then again why was any of this happening to her?
Adrian relayed the answer to Hank as she glanced around at the crowd. There were regulars in the crowd that she noticed. Some of them got off on the violence, some peddling drugs or pussy.
Despite the scores of people there wasn’t a single friendly face. Adrian never felt like there was anyone who could help her. In fact it seemed quite the opposite.
Hank never seemed to care how she was manhandled unless someone attempted to drag his Lucky Charm away. Sometimes a hand would reach out and grab at her ass. It made Adrian thankful that there were women present that acted like whores, along with actual whores selling their flesh to anyone interested. Otherwise she had no doubt all it would take was Hank turning his back after a match started, and she’d be drug into a dark corner to be molested.
In general Adrian kept her face and eyes down and hoodie up, so she wouldn’t attract unwanted attention. The increasingly large amounts of cash Hank flashed did that enough and made her nervous. It garnered unwanted attention and he seemed too arrogant or stupid to notice. She was just waiting for some thug to jump and violently murder them at any moment.
Adrian nearly laughed, she doubted being murdered by anyone in this room would be half as violent as the misery she’d suffered at Hank’s hands.
Cain
Samantha was a hot piece of ass with fiery hair and nice tits. But she just didn’t have it. For one thing she was an Outsider although she was a club whore or Sweet Butt as they called them. She seemed to stick to Cain like glue, but that was when he was around. Sam was more than happy to make “friends” with the other brothers when Cain wasn’t there to pay attention to her. There was no love lost there. She wasn’t even a useful club whore. Sam didn’t help cook or clean-up. She did nothing but smoke, drink and suck cock.
Sam was currently trying to entice him, wiggling her tits and skinny hips. It didn’t seem to matter to her that he was intentionally ignoring her reading email.
Trip entered the office with an annoyed look on his face. Cain gave Samantha a glance that said fuck off and she just stood there till he raised an eyebrow. She had the nerve to huff and storm out. That bitch was starting to overstep her boundaries.
“Cain we’re gonna have to do something about that cop that keeps coming to the fights. He’s making too good odds on his bets.” Trip informed him looking concerned. “I’ve not figured it out, but he’s throwing the fights somehow.” Trip had a good eye for that sort of shit. “I thought he’d turned the guy we have taking the bets, so I put my thumb on him. All the bookie could do was piss himself and say some crazy bullshit about the Sweet Butt the cop drags along.” Trip shook his head in confusion. “The dirty LEO’s getting real nosy wanting to get cozier with all our ‘fun’. I don’t trust the asshole.”
Cain rose from his chair and put on his leather cut. The well worn jacket, fit like a second skin, flashing his club colors.
“Well fuck. Let’s go put this to bed. We can’t have that cop seeing shit he shouldn’t.” Cain commented as he followed Trip out of the office.
They’d learned the guy that kept attending their fights and attempting to get friendly with their operation was a cop. Not only that but apparently the bastard was winning more than was statistically possible.
“If the bookie wasn’t aiding him then what? And what the hell was the bookie talking about? What did the woman have to do with any of it?” Cain wondered.
It fell to Cain as the president of the Reapers M/C to decide what to do with the crooked LEO, Law Enforcement Officer, and any other matter that didn’t need to be voted on by the club.
He fucking hated crooked anything. Cain was no saint for sure, but a man should have balls enough to do and say what he was gonna do and say. There was no honor to be found in liars and cheaters.
The club made coin in a variety of businesses, the fights being one of those venture. The fights also served as a useful outlet for the brothers. His brothers were an aggressive lot.
They didn’t deal in drugs but Cain didn’t begrudge other clubs who did. If someone wanted to poison themselves they would. These days booze and pills did it just as well as blow and smoke.
The Reapers didn’t steal from others either, unless it was to take back what was theirs.
Cain already felt like he lived a Jekyll and Hyde life, he didn’t need to heap lies and dishonor onto it. Freedom to be, was the name of the game. If someone took issue with how he and his brothers chose to live their lives, well fuck them. Society had its twisted view of what was acceptable and it seemed to vacillate. The shit that was cool today would be condemned a year from now. That seemed to be the nature of society and the one thing that didn’t change.
However if a man made a vow to be a cop, to protect the innocent and uphold some bullshit laws then he should be man enough to do it, and deal with all the consequences that followed.
“Fucking greedy coward.” Cain groaned.
Trip his 2nd, the Reaper’s V.P., fell in line as they entered the clubhouse garage where the bikes were parked. Cain’s Dyna Harley was a sight to behold, leather and iron, kinda like its rider. Cain chuckled to himself.
His ride often excited him more than the club whores and old lady wannabe’s. It was certainly more dependable. It kinda got old watching a club whore suck your cock, only to cringe as you wondered where that mouth had been. In many cases it had been on the cock of the brother sitting next to you.
Cain looked at several of his brothers.
“Load up.” He bellowed.
They reached the warehouse on the south side of Chi-town. Everything seemed like business as usual.
Cain hadn’t been back to the “open” fights, like the nosy LEO frequented, not since the night he’d had to put down that little thug. He hadn’t even felt like attending the “closed” ones that followed, after the “outsiders” were cleared out.
Cain understood the need to burn adrenaline. The urge to fight was primal. If two men wanted to fight the ultimate fight, well so be it. However these people needn’t witness the “closed” fights where guys like himself, more animal than man, threw down.
Cain couldn’t say why he hadn’t been into going to the fights and burning off steam lately. Maybe he was in a funk. Maybe what he’d been forced to do bothered him more than he wanted to admit to himself. Taking a life meant something and he’d never taken it lightly.
Cain recognized the cop as he entered the large room. Sure enough the chick he caught a glimpse of was at the dirty LEO’s side, wearing a shitty black hoodie pulled down to hide her face.
Just like Trip had said the man collected on the first match. Cain moved around the cage to get a better view.
“She’s always wearing the same thing. Stinks to high heaven. At least she’s not barefoot now.” Trip growled.
&
nbsp; The cop, Hank as he recalled, turned the woman towards the fighters up next. It was hard to see more than a wisp of her dark hair, pale skin and pink lips. She seemed to study the two men for an instant then whispered to Hank, who proceeded to dish out a ridiculous handful of cash to the bookie.
This particular match was a rather bloody one. Cain had seen a lot of chicks that enjoyed the spectacle, got off on it even, but the mystery woman pulled back as far as the fuckwad would allow her.
The competition ended in a nasty strike to the opponent’s nose, a knock out. Cain was pretty sure the ragged woman cringed. Like the fight before Hank collected his winnings.
It seemed highly improbable this chick, like a seasoned boxing coach, had an eye for good fighters. No one else besides the bookie talked to the pair, so no one was feeding the pair info.
“What the fuck? What the hell is going on?” Cain mused out loud, then moved closer still.
It was easy for him to get close enough to hear the duo, yet far enough to not raise suspicion. His hearing was better than most, picking up low voices even in this crowd.
“I’m gonna put down a hunk of change on this one.” Cain heard Hank say to the hooded woman. The chick focused forward her head tipped to one side as she studied the fighters.
“The blonde wins.” She muttered to Hank. He shook her roughly.
“Last match, I wanna put extra on the outcome. So how’s it gonna end bitch and don’t fuck up!” Hank demanded.
“Seriously?” Cain wondered. “What the hell did the LEO really expect?”
Cain could see the fucking cop gripped her arms too tight by the way the man’s knuckles turned white.
Even over the strong odor of sweat and blood he could smell the fear and sadness rolling off the woman in acrid waves. It had him reeling. Cain could almost taste the anger that rose up, bitter in his mouth. He wanted to rip the bastards hands off. It was one thing to treat a bitch rough in the bedroom, especially when they liked it. This was something else entirely. Cain was so pissed he almost missed the chic’s reply.
“Death, a blow to the neck.” The woman shuttered.
Hank smiled and released her to place another insanely large bet.
How did she surmise this outcome. It’s not like the pair could bribe the loser to commit suicide.
As the fight proceeded Cain was pulled between watching who would win, and watching the woman. Her head hung low almost as if she were the fighter’s executioner.
The two caged men danced around each other slick with sweat. Then the strike came, just as she said it would. Cain had seen a lot of strange things, hell he was a strange thing, but he wasn’t quite sure what to make of this shit. Stunned he made his way back towards Trip.
“Bring those two to the office. The bookie was right, the woman’s feeding the cop information, but he’s forcing it out of her. Although I can’t wrap my head around how she could’ve possibly predicted how the fighter just died.”
Trip looked at him in surprise. Cain just shook his head in confusion as he headed to the office off the large room.
Adrian
Adrian became ill at ease the moment she saw the leather clad bikers moving towards them, Trip in the lead. Hank asked the large biker what he needed in his weaselly way. It sickened her, which was saying something in this place.
“Prez wants to see you” Was all that Trip said looking deadly serious. He flashed her with an odd expression.
There was something up, what was it? Nothing came to her.
It often pissed Adrian off that she knew so much and nothing at all. Switch on, switch off. Why did it sometimes take being at the end of her rope before she saw something. It was truly disturbing what filtered into her head when pushed to her limits.
If Hank knew the shit she’d pictured when she writhed in pain following his abuse he’d accuse her of holding out on him. No doubt he’d beat her more hoping to gain something useful. Problem being it was generally shit he’d never care about.
His neighbor was having an affair. The woman across the street was pregnant, it’s a boy!
The closest Adrian could come to explaining any of it was that when she was stripped bare mentally, she was a clean slate to be written on. Her own incessant mental rambling overridden and set aside. But the nothing at the moment was just maddening.
“What do the scary ass bikers want?” She asked again. Silence.
Four large men towered over her and Hank, herding them towards a door at the back of the warehouse. Her only hope was that if they killed her, maybe they’d make it quick. It was sad to think that she was ready to be done.
Hank moved along, a look on his face like he was going to collect some reward. Maybe they wanted him to do some sleazy inside cop shit. God she had a foul mouth even in her own mind.
They were ushered through a door, but not before Hank was brusquely relieved of his phone and gun, then pushed towards a chair. Adrian glanced towards the man that sat on the corner of the desk. It was the scary Reaper with hard blue gray eyes. He was intensely silent and brooding. Adrian felt his eyes upon her and couldn’t help but raise her head. She refused to be afraid, but was failing miserably.
Cain
The piece of shit cop sat in the chair looking smug. Cain’s persistent silent glare quickly had him squirming. Cain moved his assessing gaze to the woman. She was small, at least compared to him, standing five and half foot tall. She had a full pair of tits and thighs clad in dirty, worn jogging pants. She didn’t look anorexic like some of the club whores and strippers at the “gentleman’s” club the Reapers owned, but she wasn’t fat either.
Cain could smell her fear, it was still so clear, and unnerving. The dumb fuck seated next to her was too stupid to be truly afraid.
“Arrogant self important asshole.”
The Sweet Butt lifted her face and Cain was frozen, struck dumb. She had full pink lips, he’d glimpsed earlier, framed by long dark hair. But it was the luminous, innocent, sad, green eyes that held him. They laid Cain bare as she studied him. He swore she could see every sin and good deed he’d ever committed. He instantly regretted this angel had witnessed him killing that gang banger. She never should’ve been subjected to such a horror.
Cain couldn’t help himself, he shifted and took a step towards her. His inner beast roared, enticed by the sight and scent of the woman. His fingers itched to pull her to him and soothe her pain.
Just as Cain was tempted to reach out for her he stopped. There was a purple bruise that marred most of her left cheek, her lip was split and there was a strip of cotton wrapped around her swollen bruised finger. The fucking bastard had hurt her!
Cain turned back around and moved to his desk, fists clenched.
“Sit the fuck down before you act rashly.” He commanded his inner beast.
There was one thing above others that Cain couldn’t abide and that was abuse of women and children. Anyone he’d ever caught doing that kind of shit got what they deserved in spades.
At this point his mind was made up. Once the fucking cop spilled his guts he had a date with a shallow hole just south of town.
Adrian
Up close Adrian was able to study the giant Reaper in better detail. If she’d thought Trip was a giant, this man, the President of the motorcycle gang, had him beat by several inches, standing at least a foot taller than her. The frighteningly large man probably had to duck to get through the door.
His hair was several shades of brown, and fell just below his chin in unruly waves. His eyes were the color of stone and just as hard. His stubbled chin and jaw clenched tight, the muscle flexing. He looked angry which didn’t bode well.
He wore the black leather jacket, like the rest of the big men, with a wife beater underneath that stretched over some serious pecs. Bits and pieces of ink peeking out.
In a different place and time this man would’ve made Adrian’s mouth water. He was godlike, rugged and predatory. But she’d seen him kill a man with his bare hands, even
if it was sort of in self defense. The man was a Reaper, a motorcycle gang member that ran violent death matches. Yet still she couldn’t pull her eyes from his.
A picture flashed before her eyes. There Adrian saw the missing piece of the puzzle she couldn’t put her finger on before with these men, these Reapers. Adrian saw the man in front of her, teeth bared, long canines, clawed hands, eyes that glowed, reflecting like an animal’s in the night. The men weren’t just beastly huge, they were beasts.
Adrian didn’t move a muscle so great was the shock. What manner of man or creature was this. Her first thought was of the impossibility of it, but it fled the moment she was reminded of her own bizarre gift. If there was room in the universe for a freak like her then why not others. Nervous laughter almost bubbled up from Adrian’s throat.
“Oh, Hank you incredible moron what have you pulled me into. You have killed us both.” Adrian mentally berated Hank.
The man, Cain, according to his jacket, then spoke his hard eyes trained on Hank.
Cain
For some reason Cain wanted to purr as those wide curious eyes gave him the once over, till he remembered the business at hand.
The room still reeked of her fear, tinged with something else he couldn’t name. Was it resignation? The fear scent was almost unbearable but would likely increase after Cain said his piece. Unfortunately.
“You wanna tell me how it is that you’ve not lost a single wager tonight or any other lately?” Cain growled looking straight at the asshole seated in the chair.
The look on Hank’s face was priceless as it fell and reality dawned.
“You know what I hate more than a fucking cheat?” Cain continued.
The dirty cop shook his mouth wobbling. Cain came back round the desk and got into the bastard’s face.
“Answer me!” Cain roared. It vibrated out his throat with an intensity he hadn’t quite intended and the woman jumped.
Biting Back: A Motorcycle Club, Shifter, Romance (Shifting Steel Book 1) Page 4