Haden leaned on the porch railing of his sister’s tiny house. “I’ll get you the money.” He held up a finger when she went to protest again. “Nothing you can say is going to stop me.”
Lisa’s petite face wrinkled in a frown. Her chocolate brown eyes flashed with worry. “I hate bikers. Anything to do with them. You know that. His deadbeat dad was one, and look where that got us.” She pointed toward Colton, who threw his pacifier and yelled gibberish.
“Yeah, and our dad was one, too. It’s in my blood, Lisa. Anyway, not all bikers are assholes.”
She scoffed at this. “We didn’t even know Dad.” Then her face darkened with sadness. “I barely remember him or mom. We don’t know what they were like.”
Lisa and Haden’s parents had died in a car crash when he was four and she was eight. He had vague memories of his parents. A tall man with shoulder length hair and a beard. A lady with sparkling eyes and a smile that had always calmed him, but that was it. They’d bounced around foster homes for a long time until Sam and Gloria Williams took them in and they remained in their care for the next six years. Sam and Gloria were the closest thing Haden and Lisa had to a mom and dad, but they weren’t exactly rolling in cash. Though they did their best to help out, they had bills of their own to pay.
“I remember two people who loved us,” Haden said. “Dad was one of the good ones. It’s who I am, Lisa. You’ve got to accept that.”
She scoffed again and turned to gaze out at the small yard. The sun was sailing west and now hovered at the halfway point in the sky. “Jesse made my life hell, Haden. He’s never paid one damn cent of child support. Shit, he’s such a waste, Lucifer’s Chosen even kicked him out of the club. Do you want to be like that?”
Haden knew Jesse Barr would always be a raw sore on his sister’s heart. The guy was a grade A prick. There was no denying that. But she couldn’t judge all members of the Lucifer’s Chosen motorcycle club by Jesse. Like she’d just said, even they kicked him out, when Jesse’s stupid actions ended in them losing a deal to distribute weed with another motorcycle club. A lot of good members of LC nearly lost their lives over that. Jesse was told to get out of town unless he wanted to face painful repercussions.
“I’m not Jesse.” Haden wrapped his sister in a comforting hug, just as Colton started to dance and shout louder in his playpen.
The two of them faced the toddler and giggled. “I better go grab him,” Lisa said. “He wants attention now, or else.”
Haden knew his sister had a hate on for all bikers based on the pain her ex left her with. He could understand that, but he knew not all guys who rode a Harley were dickheads, and he would prove it to her. Sure, it didn’t help that the MC he was currently affiliated with, the Nighthawks, didn’t have the best name in Parker Ridge. In fact, Lucifer’s Chosen and the Rebels & Rogues motorcycle clubs were planning on driving them out of town. The Nighthawks were not only trespassing on R&R’s territory, they were bringing meth and other hard drugs into Parker Ridge, from nearby Vancouver, and that was one thing Lucifer’s Chosen and Rebels & Rogues wouldn’t tolerate in their town. They might’ve had outlaw ways, but they didn’t want kids getting their hands on that garbage. Haden knew both clubs were trying to get into more legit forms of business.
His plan was to become a prospect with Lucifer’s Chosen, but his sister didn’t know that yet. No one but him and Mickey J, the president of Lucifer’s Chosen, knew that yet. Though the other members of the club would have to be filled in and vote on it.
And he had just the method for getting in. He was going to rat out the Nighthawks to LC, give them the location of one of their biggest meth labs. In return, Mickey promised enough money to pay Lisa’s mortgage and then some. Mickey guaranteed the other members would go along with the deal, and Haden trusted him.
Haden went over to where his sister held Colton. He kissed the downy curls on his nephew’s head. “Trust me, okay?”
Doubt glimmered in her gaze. “I trust you.”
***
Parker Ridge was a small town located halfway between Abbotsford and Surrey. These days it was considered a suburb of Surrey, but it was still incorporated and fighting the city sprawl that threatened to swallow it. Being so close to a metropolis like Vancouver meant just a matter of time until it lost the fight.
Haden and Lisa had grown up here. They’d spent some time in foster homes in Surrey and Abbotsford, but they both still considered the tiny farm that the Williams owned just outside of town to be their true home.
Haden drove his beat up low rider past the town limit sign, heading toward a rural area closer to Chilliwack. He had a meeting with Mickey J in a wooded area not far from the location of the Nighthawk’s meth lab. He’d already handed the location over to Mickey a few days ago, detailing it on a small map he’d drawn.
But Mickey wanted him at the raid. It was an unofficial welcome to Lucifer’s Chosen. Mickey had promised Haden protection in exchange for the information, and, if he were lucky, he’d be joining Lucifer’s Chosen as a new prospect. He’d put his days with the Nighthawks behind him, and maybe Lisa would quit nagging him about choosing the biker lifestyle.
He cut the engine about a mile away from their meeting point and hid his bike in between some thick bushes. Then Haden walked the rest of the way.
A glowing orange dot signified Mickey J’s presence when Haden got there. The MC leader threw his cigarette down and squashed the butt in the dry dirt. “The others are on their way,” he told Haden in a raspy whisper. “They’ll meet us at the lab.” He handed Haden a semi-automatic pistol, and Haden noticed the serial number had been filed away.
His hand shook as he tucked the gun in the waistband of his jeans. Nervous tension fluttered in his stomach as he followed Mickey toward their location, but he ignored the anxiety and told himself to toughen up.
Lights glowed along the wraparound porch connected to the house they approached. Haden had only been to the lab a couple times before, but the Nighthawks president and VP wouldn’t let him or Bruce, another prospect, in the first time they went there. He’d seen the heart of the operation on his next trip. Old ladies cooking up meth. The reek of this process burned his nostrils.
A hand closed on his shoulder and Haden almost shouted. He whirled and pointed his gun.
“Hey, asshole, put that thing away.” Big C, the VP of Lucifer’s Chosen, swatted the butt of the pistol like it was a fly. “The other guys are moving in. They’re all over.” Big C pointed to indicate the forest was full of their men.
Mickey nodded and checked his gun. “Let’s get it done.” He led them out of the woods.
Just as their boots hit dry dirt close to the house, the doors of the place burst open. Orange sparked as guns blazed, and the night echoed with a thundering boom of expelled bullets.
“Get down!” Mickey pulled Haden to the ground with him.
More shouts and gunfire sliced through the darkness. Then Haden heard the roar of motorbikes approaching.
What the fuck had happened? How did the Nighthawks know they were coming? They had all been so careful about planning this raid. Someone had double crossed them, and it had to be someone inside Lucifer’s Chosen. Only, right now, Haden knew he looked awfully guilty.
Big C turned his face in the dirt and glared at Haden. “When this is over, H, you better have a good explanation.”
***
Chapter 2
Haden drew his gun from his jeans then crawled on his belly toward the house. Mickey J moved close by, but a glance to his left showed Big C was gone. He didn’t worry, though. He knew the VP of Lucifer’s Chosen could take care of himself.
At the base of the porch, Haden squatted beside Mickey J. They waited for a break in the gunfire then rose up and let bullets fly. Haden got one of the Nighthawks, and the side of the biker’s head burst in a shower of blood, brain, and bone. He fell to the crimson stained wooden slats just as Haden dropped back down out of firing range.
He swallowed h
ard over and over to keep from puking. His hands shook. No time to absorb this shock. His first kill. He knew the biker way meant getting blood on your hands, but he just hadn’t expected it to be tonight.
How fucking naïve, he thought, moments before Mickey J grabbed his shoulder and shouted, “Move, now!”
Keeping low, Haden and Mickey ran toward the side of the house. More men on the porch fell. The roar of engines grew deafening, and when Haden got a glimpse at one of the riders a sour ball of dread sat heavy in his gut.
He knew the cut this rider wore: a man hanging from the gallows with Death at his side. It marked him as one of the Condemned Sons, a MC allied to the Nighthawks. Haden and Lucifer’s Chosen were screwed. Mickey J said Rebels & Rogues would be backing them up tonight, but they were nowhere in sight yet. If they didn’t get here soon, Lucifer’s Chosen could lose a lot of men.
Breathing hard and trying not to panic, Haden ran after Mickey J toward a back entrance they’d planned to use to sneak up on the Nighthawks. Though their strategy for tonight had gone up in smoke, they still had to try.
The night moved in thick, and with the surrounding pines casting dense shadows it grew difficult to see two feet in front of him. Before he could reach his destination, Haden was clipped by the ape hangers of an oncoming Harley. He stumbled to the ground, taking the bike’s side mirror with him. Hard packed earth met his skull and stars burst across his vision.
When he tried to get up, a motorcycle boot sank into his ribs. Pain exploded through his side and his body tensed from the blow. Another blow rocketed his skull sideways, making it feel as if his head split in two. Someone yanked his gun from his hand then punched him in the face, sending him back to the ground.
The salty iron tang of blood trickled into his mouth. Agony squeezed him tight and seared his every nerve as they took the boots to him again. He briefly lost consciousness when someone rammed a steel toe repeatedly into his shoulder. The crunching of broken bone echoed in his head just before darkness bled in.
When he woke up, he couldn’t tell if hours or minutes had gone by, but the world was still covered in inky night. A click drew his attention and he focused on the gun pointed at his face. Boots pressed to his shoulders held him down. The broken one blazed with raw pain.
“You rotten little shit,” someone above him growled, and Haden knew the voice well. It belonged to Kurt ‘Bones’ Hall, the president of the Nighthawks. “I give you a chance, and this is how you repay me? I should send your head to your sister.”
A cold unlike anything he’d ever felt seeped into Haden. He was going to die, and he’d fucked everything up. Lisa would never forgive him. At least if Bones sent his head to her, she’d know his fate. The thought was so absurd and grotesque he wanted to laugh, though nothing funny could be found in this messed up situation.
Bones aimed the gun and Haden clenched his bladder, afraid he might piss himself as he stared down the end.
A roar ripped through the air, and this one didn’t come from a motorcycle. It was pure animal. The silhouettes surrounding Haden fluttered as the men moved to see what made this noise. A scream pierced Haden’s eardrums. Bones forgot all about him as he muttered, “Shit, the cavalry is here.”
The pain must’ve made Haden hallucinate, because the men standing over him changed. Their backs curled and their bodies morphed into something halfway between human and animal. A cougar sprinted away from the group toward the bellow of other animals, which now grew louder.
Bones aimed his gun elsewhere, but before he could fire, a massive, shaggy white paw swooped out and long, thick claws gouged flesh from the man’s side. Blood gushed from the open torso of the Nighthawks president, and he crumpled to his knees.
A shot sparked from Bone’s gun and clipped the attacking beast in the neck. It let out a thunderous bawling and charged. This giant white bear cleaved Bone’s head clean off his shoulders.
Whooping filled Haden’s ears, but the sound came through watery, like he drowned. He slipped back into the abyss. Mickey J’s voice floated to him, saying to someone unseen, “It’s about time you bastards got here.”
The roar of more motorbikes buzzed in Haden’s head like a swarm of angry hornets. But they were distant, muffled by the heavy grogginess that filled his head like cotton. Before he passed out again, the murky shape of a great white bear fell over him, and he just hoped death would be quick.
***
A brilliant, blinding agony yanked Haden back to the land of the living. His eyes refused to focus and his head felt three sizes bigger than it should have been.
A blurry woman leaned over him. He could make out smudges of ginger hair, creamy skin, but little else. A man stood beside her, and their fuzzy hands worked on Haden’s shoulder.
“We should get him to a hospital,” the man said. “He could have a major concussion and he needs X-rays.”
From somewhere in the room, a voice like broken glass raked over gravel spoke, “Can’t do it, Doc. The Nighthawks will want a body, and they won’t be satisfied until they get one. They’ll be checking every hospital from here to Vancouver General for this kid.”
A sickening crunch preceded agony that sliced Haden’s every nerve wide open. He screamed as the smudgy man and woman worked on his shoulder.
His world slowly came back into focus as the woman wrapped his shoulder. Bright green eyes stood out in her plain, pretty face. She helped him sit forward so she could put a sling on his arm.
She smiled and gently eased him back against his pillows. “Do you remember what happened?”
The doctor, a round, short guy with silvery blond hair and wire rimmed glasses, sat on the side of the bed. He shone a light in his eyes as Haden answered, “Our raid got ambushed. We were going to shut down the Nighthawks meth lab, but they knew we were coming. Condemned Sons came in to back them up.”
The woman nodded and seemed pleased by his clear memory of events.
“Look left,” the doctor told him. “Look right.” Haden’s eyes watered from the piercing light and his head ached like a rotten tooth. “Look up. Down. Good. Now cover your left eye.” The doctor help up an open paperback. “Can you read the words on this page?”
Haden rattled off some sentences and the doctor appeared satisfied. He asked him to repeat the process with the other eye. The doctor nodded and clicked off his light, slipping it in his blazer pocket. He held up a pen and asked Haden to follow it with his gaze, then did a few other tests. Haden’s eyes throbbed in their sockets by the time he finished.
“Do you feel pressure in your head? Any dizziness?”
By now, Haden grew tired of the examination. “My head hurts like hell. Don’t feel too dizzy, though.”
The woman asked Haden if he remembered his full name and birth date and he rattled these off, “Haden Samuel Probst. I was born May 17, 1993.”
The doctor looked dubious. “If the headache continues, or there’s any persistent dizziness or vomiting, call me. You’re damn lucky, Haden. I’ll be back in a couple days to check on you. Make sure he keeps that shoulder immobilized, Tessa. Don’t let him sleep too much.”
“Sure thing, Doc.” She pulled up a wooden chair beside him. “I’ll keep you company for a while.”
Haden couldn’t even manage a nod. His whole body felt like one massive aching wound. At least he could move his eyes without too much misery. So he scanned the room.
The bed had a simple pine frame, and most of the furniture was white pine. The walls were also made of pine logs, stained a medium brown.
Near the doorway, the doctor stood talking to a biker who towered over him. The guy wore a vest with a back patch that marked him as a member of Rebels & Rogues. This biker was so tall he’d have to duck to get through the door. Tattoos snaked over his heavily muscled arms, and his square jaw was peppered with dark stubble. His hair was short and dark brown, but strands fell over his piercing, ocean blue eyes. He had a prominent nose, which he looked down when he glared in Haden’s direc
tion. The guy would’ve been hot if he wasn’t raging with anger.
“Thanks for fixing him up, Doc,” the big man said, shaking the hand of the smaller blond gent.
“No problem. I owed Tessa and Bear a favor. There’s a bottle of Tylenol 3s on the night table. Don’t let him take too much.”
The two men left the bedroom together, and Haden focused on Tessa once more. “Where am I?”
“You’re at Tag’s place.” At his confused look, she added, “He brought you here with Mickey J after Lucifer’s Chosen and Rebels & Rogues took out the lab.”
“How’d we do?” Haden was afraid to ask, but he had to know.
“Lucifer’s Chosen lost three members. Nighthawks lost a lot more after Rebels & Rogues showed up.”
He had conflicting emotions over that, but he stayed blank faced in front of Tessa. He was glad Lucifer’s Chosen and Rebels & Rogues took on minimal damage, glad they destroyed the Nighthawks’ lab, but the lives lost, including the one he’d taken, haunted him.
“Keep him awake.” The gravelly voiced guy stalked up to the bed.
Tessa gave a small grin. “Haden, this is Tag.”
“Kid, you’re lucky,” the big man growled and glared. “Mickey J should’ve iced your ass for this.”
“I didn’t rat him out to the Nighthawks,” Haden’s shout came out a rasp. “I don’t know how they found out about the raid.”
Tag grunted and grabbed a chair. He swung it around beside the bed and straddled it. “No, but we do.” He held up Haden’s cell. “We use disposable phones for a reason.” The giant biker threw it on the bed. “Never keep one over a week. Got it?”
Haden nodded. Pain bloomed through his shoulder and pounded his brain.
“You remember Bruce McFadden?” Tag said.
“Yeah, he’s a prospect with the Nighthawks.” Bewilderment mixed with Haden’s misery.
Tag gave a disgusted scoff. “He bugged your phone. He’s been watching you, following you. He’s the one who ratted you out to the Nighthawks, how they found out about the raid.”
BDSM Mega Boxed Set Page 21