by Tillie Cole
I fell back to sleep, feeling Phebe’s hands on my face and her lips on my mouth. I see it in your eyes . . . I see . . . me.
And Christ, but I saw her too.
Chapter Twelve
AK
I pulled my bike to a stop outside my cabin. I lowered the scarf from my face and wiped two days’ worth of dirt from my cheeks. I kicked my leg off the bike and pounded through the door to my cabin and into the kitchen. “You’re back,” Ash said as he came into the room. I arced my hand to the back of his head and brought him in to my chest.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” he replied nonchalantly, then ducked his head shyly like he always did. I pulled a smoke from my pack and offered one to him. He took it and I lit up, waiting for him to say whatever it was he was building up to.
“I’ve been to Flame’s the past two nights,” he eventually said. I looked up at the little fucker’s face. You’d think my psycho brother had just given this kid the world.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He tried to hide his smile. “I stayed over last night. Madds made up a bed for me in the spare room, before I even had a chance to say I’d just come back here.”
“Flame good with that?”
He nodded. “Even stayed up with me for a bit after Madds had gone to bed. He didn’t say much, but he showed me all his knives. He even had a drink with me.” He shrugged. “We mostly sat in silence, but . . .” He took a deep breath. “It was . . . good. You know?”
“I do,” I said and felt my fucking still-tight chest loosen some. Flame had fucking listened to me, the asshole.
“You get the drop done?” Ash moved to the fridge and pulled me out a beer. I took it, then went to my liquor cabinet for my bottle of bourbon—I needed something stronger. But it wasn’t there. “You took my bourbon?”
“No,” he replied. I raised my eyebrow. “You lying?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’d tell you if I did.” I frowned when I saw my new bottle of Patrón was also missing. “Tequila’s gone too.”
I grabbed the bottle of Jack and took a few sips. I closed my eyes as it burned going down.
“Maybe Vike took it?” Ash offered as I slumped down at the table. “He was around here some when you were gone.” He blushed. “He was pissed you left without him. So was Flame.” I nodded, knowing that would be true. I never went on any drop without Flame and Vike. But . . . shit . . . after the mindfuck that was two nights ago, I needed some alone time on the road.
I got to my feet, about to go shower when my cell vibrated in my pocket. “Fuck!” I snarled. “Can’t I get a fucking minute?”
I opened the screen as I entered my bedroom. There was a text from Ky.
KY: You back yet?
ME: Just.
KY: You might wanna get to the clubhouse. Right the fuck now.
What the fuck had happened? A second text came through.
KY: Your cold-turkey shit seems to have backfired.
I stared at the text, and my stomach lurched.
Phebe.
ME: On my way.
Throwing on a fresh shirt, I flew out of my bedroom, down the hallway and into the kitchen. “I need to get to the clubhouse,” I said to Ash.
The kid jumped up and grabbed the truck’s keys off the counter. “I’ll drive.”
I slammed out of my front door, wondering what the fuck had happened to Phebe. What the hell did Ky mean by “your cold-turkey shit seems to have backfired”?
Ash slid into the driver’s seat and switched on the engine. Clearly sensing my urgency, he gunned it out of our cabins’ clearing and onto the dirt path. “Everything okay?” Ash asked as we raced up the hill.
“No fucking idea,” I replied, my hands fisting on my lap. I tried to think about what the hell Phebe could have been doing in two days. Vike and Flame hadn’t said shit, but then again, those fuckers weren’t speaking to me on account of the fact I took off without them.
We pulled in at the back of the clubhouse. The place was packed—usual weekend shit. Rows of bikes stood outside, and loud music pumped from the main bar.
I smashed through the back door, following the music. The bar was thick with smoke, sluts and drink. I scanned the room and saw a hand waving in the air. Ky was up on his feet in the far corner. I pushed a fuck-ton of hangers-on out of my goddamn way as I plowed to where he stood.
As my path cleared, I saw Styx and Mae around a table. Lilah sat nursing a glass of wine, a fucking horrified look on her face. A chair slammed back, and suddenly Flame was in my face. The brother smashed his hands on my chest and pushed me back. I steadied myself. I knew I’d get this shit from him.
“What the fuck?” he snarled. Maddie reached up to grab his hand. Smiler, Tank and Bull looked on from the next table. Beauty and Letti were watching something across the bar, ignoring Flame. Solomon and Samson—the brothers Rider had brought from the cult—were there too. They always were lately.
I held up my hands. “I get it. You’re pissed.”
Flame’s head twitched in response. I stepped closer. “I just . . .” I shook my head. “Fuck, I just needed to be alone for a couple days. Okay?”
Flame’s focus was on the floor, not meeting my eyes, but I saw his shoulders lose some of their tension. “Don’t do it again. Prick.” He moved out of my way, and I passed him to get to Ky. Styx had appeared by his side.
“Take a fucking look.” Ky pointed across the room. I ran my gaze over every fucker in my way. Then finally, I saw a flash of red hair, and my eyes nearly bulged out of my head.
“What the fuck?” I snapped, stepping to the side to see better. The new angle only caused me to lose even more of my shit. Across the room was Phebe. Only she wasn’t the Phebe I’d rescued from the Klan, nor the bitch that had come to me two nights ago and fucked me better than I’d ever been fucked in my entire life.
This whore in front of me was at the bar, slim arms draped all over some asswipe who was minutes away from meeting the boatman with no fucking coins on his eyes. My hands shook as they formed into fists at my side. Phebe’s hair was loose down her back, washed and fucking beaming red. And it was all curled and shit. Makeup was plastered all over her face, bright-red lipstick on her full lips. But the war paint wasn’t what had me seething. It was what she was wearing that had me nearly bursting a fucking capillary.
She was wearing a flimsy white top that was almost fucking see-through. Her nipples were showing underneath. And it was tied up, showing her flat stomach and perfectly outlining her tits. Her skirt was long, but even from here I could see her legs through the material. And I could see her panties underneath. Or what looked more like a motherfucking thong. She threw her head back, and her laugh rang out even over the pounding rock music.
“Bitch snuck out without us knowing,” Ky said. Styx narrowed his eyes at Phebe making a fucking idiot of herself. Even the club sluts were looking at her as if she was pathetic. “Apparently Beauty came to visit yesterday and told her about the clubhouse on a weekend. Wanted to warn Phebe about what she might find here. Li had told her she could come tonight.” Ky shook his head. “Came to get her, only to find her already gone.” He paused. “As well as the fourth bottle of Jack from my bar this week. Turns out she wasn’t scared of the idea of being here. The bitch wanted it.”
I looked back at Phebe. Fuck, she was trashed. Her arms were still all over the same prick at the bar, but when I looked harder, I could see the bitch could barely stand. She was falling all over, her heavily made-up eyes rolling around in her fucking head.
Then it hit me. “The bourbon and Patrón,” I said out loud. If Ky and Styx were paying me any attention, I didn’t see. “Fuck!” I spat. I thought back to the night she’d fucked me. I’d been drunk myself, but I could remember tasting liquor on her lips.
“She’s turned from smack to spike.” I felt that goddamn trickle of familiarity run down my spine.
Back here again.
“Yeah, and liquor makes tha
t bitch as rabid as fuck,” Ky said. He rubbed a scratch on his cheek. It looked fresh. “My reward for trying to get her the fuck home.” He glanced to Lilah, who was still watching Phebe with worry in her eyes. “Screamed at Li too. Shocked the life outta her.” Ky’s face darkened. “Took all I had not to knock the bitch out and drag her back to our house by her damn hair.”
I snapped my head to Ky. His comment pissed me the fuck off. But he was glaring across the room at Phebe. “Way I see it,” Ky said and shrugged, “is that she’s free and single to fuck whoever the hell she likes. Let her get spit-roasted by every dude here if she wants. I couldn’t fucking care. But Li does.” He tapped me on the back. “Thought seeing as though it was your plan to lock her in your cabin for a week to ground her high ass from chasing the dragon, you might want this job too.” My lips curled at Ky’s shitty expression and Styx’s shit-eating grin. And I’d never tell them so, but damn right I wanted back at this bitch.
She was getting under my skin. And right now she was a fucking knife under my fingernails. A loud crash sounded across the bar, and some guy I didn’t know launched himself at someone else, a half-smashed bottle in his hand, ready to stab it into the other guy’s throat.
Tank and Bull were on their feet in seconds. Bull cracked his neck. “Time to throw out the deadbeats.” Tank flicked his head, and the two massive fuckers plowed into the crowd, Samson and Solomon following behind. I looked around for Phebe, but the woman was nowhere to be found.
“Shit,” I hissed under my breath. I fought my way through the mass of people, looking for the flame-red hair, punching the first fuckwit who got in my way. The more people got in my face, hungering for the fight, the more pissed I became. My fists flew, eager to smash the nose of anyone who dared fuck with me right now.
When I arrived at the far corner of the bar, a hand landed on my shoulder. I turned, livid at whoever dared fucking push me, and saw Tanner with his hands in the air. “Calm the fuck down, ’K.” He raked his hand down his face.
He looked like shit.
“I gotta talk to you,” he said, pushing me outta the way of the growing fight. Dickheads and liquor equaled a fucking weekly bar brawl.
“Not right now.” I tried to push past him.
He got in my path, and it took all I had not to deck the White Prince. “Tanner. Move,” I warned, scanning the room for Phebe. Bitch had vanished. I barged past, but Tanner grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back. I turned and swung, but the brother ducked and grabbed my collar, bringing me in close. “He fucking knows!”
It took all of about three seconds for his words to sink through the noise straight into my head. “Just hacked an email between him and my brother. He’s on the hunt for whoever took his bitch.” He paused. “He’s on the hunt for you.”
“Fuck,” I spat, feeling every ounce of blood in my body ignite into flames.
“Beau told him he didn’t know any of you on the list. I checked the rest of Meister’s server. It didn’t take him long to suspect the Hangmen. Turns out Judah told him all about us. And though it never came from Phebe’s mouth, Meister knows Phebe’s sister is here.” He shook his head. “He knows she’s married to the VP.” He glanced across at Ky, who was watching us like a damn hawk. “He’s gonna come looking.”
“I don’t give a fuck how militarized they are, that gang of rednecks ain’t no match for the Hangmen. Especially when Styx and Ky find out. We’ll have reinforcements here within hours.”
“I agree. Just wanted you to know. Meister referenced you. Carson. He knows you’re an ex-sniper, and the fucker is using every Marine contact he has to work out who the fuck you are. And that cunt is thorough.”
“I know. I fucking met him, remember?” My eyes fell to the outside door. “Go tell Ky and Styx. They’ll figure this shit out.”
Tanner took off across the room. As I reached the back door, Hush and Cowboy were walking through.
Cowboy turned his head in the direction of the bar, and a fucking huge grin spread across his face. “Fuckin’ A,” he purred in his strong Cajun accent. “Got a huge boner for a fight tonight.” Cowboy and his Stetson disappeared into the crowd.
Hush tipped his head toward me. “Ain’t sure, but I’m thinking the bitch we got out of the Klan is in the alley ’bout to fuck some cunt.”
Fire lit in my stomach, and I was out the door quicker than I’d ever fucking moved in my life. Red clouded my eyes—all day, fucking red. My lungs worked hard as I breathed in the warm air and my eyes tracked every part of the alley.
And then I heard it.
That fucking high-pitched moan that had kept me hard for forty-eight hours straight. And that breathy sigh that the bitch made as she’d put her fingers in her cunt and worked herself over until she came.
I slipped my hand into my back pocket, pulled out my switchblade and snapped it ready in my hand. I walked slowly into the alley, all stealth. The light from the clubhouse cast a perfect light on them but kept me hidden in the darkness.
I saw Phebe’s red head slide down the bastard’s body toward the floor. I watched as the bitch looked up at him with those same fuck-me eyes she’d used on me. And I watched, anger building inside me like fucking hellfire. The prick reached into his jeans and pulled out his cock. He pushed forward as Phebe put on her little show. Then his hand was in her hair and he was wrenching her forward. Phebe didn’t even cry out as his fingers almost tore her hair from its roots. The bitch just opened her mouth, waiting for his dick.
And that was all I could fucking take.
I rushed forward and slammed my shoulder into the prick who had his dick just an inch from Phebe. I tackled the shit to the floor and pounded my fist into his ugly face. The fat shit grunted and tried to throw a punch back. I laughed in his face as I dodged it and raised my switchblade high for him to see. He paled, and I stepped back off his body.
A look of relief appeared on his face. What the fucker didn’t know was that I lived for the chase.
He struggled to get up off the ground. One hand scrambled forward as the other fought to stuff his tiny cock back into his jeans. He glanced back, and the relief turned into terror as he saw me stalking slowly toward him.
I laughed.
Leaning down, enjoying seeing the piece of shit trying to get out of the alley, I took my blade and slashed one swipe across his Achilles. The shitbag screamed and clutched his ankle. He looked me in the face. “Messed with the wrong bitch, fucker,” I taunted.
“She wasn’t wearing a ‘property’ cut. Told me she wasn’t with no brother,” he tried to argue, but his words only burned my piss more.
“She ain’t free,” I snarled, not even conscious of the words that came from my lips. Then, driven by an old demon I kept locked the fuck away for everyone’s sake, I drew my blade down and sliced through the hamstring of his other leg. The fucker screamed again. But I didn’t stop. Now that I’d started I couldn’t fucking stop. I’d let this feeling become lost deep inside me, locked away. But the thought of this fucker’s hand on Phebe’s head and his cock approaching her mouth had set the fury free.
I punched his face, over and over, until his face was mangled and my knuckles were split. “Please,” he begged through his coughs. But I just laughed again. Taking hold of his greasy dark hair, I wrenched his head off the ground and brought my blade to his throat. I stared into his eyes and smelled the familiar scent of piss as the coward wet his pants.
The blade pressed into his skin. I was about to strike when two sets of footsteps ran into the alley. “Man down!” I heard Hush shout.
“Why the fuck you trying to end this saleau, mon frère?” Cowboy bent down and lifted the peak of his Stetson to study the future corpse below me. “Whew!” he whistled. “’Bout one swipe from meeting the boatman, hey, mon ami?”
My teeth were clenched together as I held the asshole by his collar. Someone called my name. It was Hush. “Let us take him for you,” he offered. I shook my head, needing to finish this shit’s life
right now. But when Hush leaned in closer and said, “Your bitch just entered the bar again. She’s on the hunt for cock, it looks like,” I fucking broke.
I rose with a frustrated growl, dropping the guy to the ground. I tucked my blade back into my pocket and made my way back to the door. I turned to my Cajun brothers. “Dump him or kill him. But if he’s here when I get back, I’ll finish what I started. And I won’t be as kind as I was gonna be.”
People sometimes wondered why Flame, Vike and I were called the Psycho Trio. Vike had his own shit to deal with. Flame? One look at that fucker and it spoke for itself. And me? That asshole right there on the floor, hamstring cut and bleeding out, was why I earned that name. But most of my brothers had no idea of the fucked-up shit I’d done in my past. No idea what kind of shit I could still do. What half the time I wanted to do. And that right there was the true nature of a psychopath: committing an act and having fuck all remorse for the shit you’ve done.
I threw the bar door open and stepped inside. The place was a mess—the aftermath of the fight. The non-brothers had been cleared the fuck out, which gave me a perfect view of Red . . . and the sight cut me even deeper than the shit I just saw outside.
Vike.
Motherfucking Vike!
My legs shook as I stood in the doorway watching Phebe sitting on Vike’s knee at the bar. Her arm was draped over his shoulders, and she was laughing. But it was Vike’s hand that I was looking at. His fucking huge hand was braced on the bottom of her back, her fucking bare back, inching closer to her ass.
Fueled by the anger I’d unleashed outside, I let it take the lead. I stormed across the room, ignoring the sound of Ky calling my name. I grabbed hold of Phebe’s arm and yanked her from Vike’s lap. She cried out in surprise as I shoved her behind me. Vike leaped to his feet, his fuck-off smile beaming right down at me. But I wasn’t seeing my friend right then. I was just seeing his fucking hand on Phebe’s back, her arm around his shoulders.
Seeing fucking red.