Rock Bottom

by Manda Mellett

  His mouth thins. “Can she run?”

  “She’s too weak to walk or run far. But they don’t check on her. There’s only me going down twice a day. If I can get Chaos on board with my suggestion, I think I know how to get her away. Just need someone with a car waitin’…”

  He doesn’t hesitate. “We can do that.”

  “Prez, I’d like her on the compound until we know who this Hawk is and how long his reach is.”

  “I hear you, Rock.” He examines my face for a moment. “There’s a problem with that. As soon as the women get talkin’ to her, and if she’s in the state you say, they won’t be able to stay away. She’ll tell them it was you who arranged her rescue. Then we risk everything comin’ out, which puts you in danger.”

  I press my own lips together. “I’ll speak to her. Tell her straight. Her survival, and mine, depends on her keepin’ quiet. I reckon she’ll agree. I’ll have to give her something so she trusts you. Doubt she’ll trust anyone easily right now.”

  “Don’t like includin’ women in our wars. But equally don’t like that we don’t know what she’s being punished for. You talk about her trustin’ us, but how do you know you can trust her? She might be a snitch who put this Hawk away.”

  He’s right that, I know nothing about her. But the memory of her expressive eyes that make you think you’re looking into her soul comes back to me. “I don’t know, Drummer. But I’ve got a feelin’. If you feel you need to put her on lockdown, so be it. But keepin’ her in a suite on our compound will be luxury compared with where she is.”

  He takes in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “Rock, what you’re doing for us? We’ll never be able to repay you. If this is something you want, then there’s no way I can refuse. Set it up, let me know where and when, and I’ll sort my end out.”

  My hand reaches out and we bump fists. I’ve missed this so fucking much. Just shooting the shit with my prez, my real prez. The man I’d give my life for.

  “I’ll use the burner phone and text you the details as soon as I know them.” He nods as I slip the phone he brought for me into my pocket.

  Suddenly there’s a new voice. “Hey. Allie’s darn near worn me out and we were only pretendin’! Christ, you’re going to have to go back lookin’ like you’re half dead.”

  “Wraith!” I stand, and we do the hand clench and man hug thing all over again. “Gettin’ old? Can’t keep up anymore?”

  He pushes me away and smirks. “Went a few rounds with Sophie before coming here.”

  “So that’s why you winced when you got on your ride?” Drummer asks, one side of his mouth turned up.

  “What can I say? My woman wants satisfyin’, she gets her needs met.”

  “Pregnancy hormones,” laughs the prez. “Sam’s already getting horny.”

  “Congrats, man!” I’d had my suspicions, now they’re confirmed. Another kid in the clubhouse. Now I’ve had a chance to see a compound without them, I’m starting to think perhaps they’re not as bad as I’d thought.

  He brushes off my best wishes while Wraith fixes me with a stare. “Fuckin’ good to see you, Brother. I know why Drummer kept it quiet, but it’s been hell thinkin’ you’d gone bad.”

  “Not been fun and games for me either,” I agree.

  “Can fuckin’ see that. Someone’s rearranged your face.” Wraith, like Drummer before him, looks distraught.

  “Two someones. Their enforcer and sergeant-at-arms. Initiation ceremony.” I grin. “I passed, apparently. Found out when I regained consciousness.”

  A female voice calls out. “Is it safe for me to come down?”

  “Yeah, Allie.” I smile as she enters, and when she gets close enough, tug her so she falls onto my lap.

  She winks at the VP. “He’s an animal, that one. I’m exhausted.”

  Wraith growls as I take hold of her hair, wrap it around my wrist and pull her head so she’s forced to look into my eyes. “We were never here, and this never happened, Allie.”

  Her sincere look convinces me, as well as the words she says. “I know, Rock. It would be dangerous for you, and for the club, if I said anything. My mouth’s shut, my mind’s already forgotten what happened this afternoon. Look, it’s my home too. And I love you, Drum, Wraith, all the brothers. I won’t do anything to jeopardise that.” She breaks off and looks at Drummer, then at the VP. “I’m not stupid. If someone’s comin’ for the club, we need information to protect us. Rock needs to be kept out of it so he can get it for us. You can trust me.”

  “I know we can, sweetheart,” the prez reassures her earnestly. “Already know that.”

  It was hell leaving Drummer and Wraith. Last time I hadn’t had time to think about it, knowing the brothers were after my blood, I was being chased for real, and my mindset reflected that, making it easier to play the part of turning traitor. This time it’s with man hugs and expressions of love. It fucking killed me. I’d have given anything to be able to go back with them. But I couldn’t. Not when it’s my job to get information to save our club.

  I acted the part. Allie made the most of it, hanging on to me at the door, calling me back time and again for yet another kiss. In the end I pinch her and tell her not to overdo it, but she was enjoying herself, and deserved something for agreeing to keeping her mouth shut.

  Squirt was still waiting, so I made a show of checking my zipper was done up, adjusting myself in my pants and grimacing as I sat astride the bike, leaning forward as though making myself comfortable. Before starting the engine, I call over my shoulder, “Going straight back to Long Horns. No need for you to try to catch up.”

  He scowls when I wave at him, but pulls away from the curb at the same time as I do. Allie and I had given Drummer and Wraith some time to get clear, just in case he lingered to check out the house. Allie had a gun on her, prepared if he tried to get inside.

  I use the ride to get back into a prospect’s mindset. Back at the Chaos Riders’ compound nothing has changed. Not that I should have expected it to. Apart from getting Runner’s middle finger again when I tell him I’d enjoyed two fucks on his behalf, it’s straight back into the grind of being a prospect. Someone had cut themselves, and I cheerfully mopped up the blood.

  My absence having raised no suspicion, I’m careful to behave just like everyone expects me too. That includes making sure I spend no longer in the cellar than necessary, which means I have no more conversation with Becca for just over a week. At first she’d look up expectantly when I went in, but I purposefully kept my mouth shut and didn’t acknowledge her. I don’t want her to know the compassion I feel so she wouldn’t act differently if someone else was to come down with me. After a couple of days she goes back to ignoring me while I deliver her food and empty that fucking bucket.

  A week after my visit with Drummer, the prospects are put to clearing out an unused barn and getting cots and bedding sorted. I ask the reasonable question and receive the answer to prepare for a dozen men, and to be ready in seven days.

  Again I climb the stairs to see the prez, and again I’m called in and offered a seat.

  “Glad you came up, Prospect. Need to know something.”

  I raise my chin toward Chaos.

  “Armament. I’d like to go over it again. How are the Satan’s Devils fixed?”

  In case it’s a test, I remember precisely what I’d told him before. “Not too good. They’ve been running down stocks. Sloppy as well. I’ve seen empty boxes of ammo where brothers take them out and just put the boxes back on the shelves.” They do, but Peg knows to look for that. He wouldn’t leave anything to chance. “All the men have their personal weapons, but they tend to be Glocks.”

  “AK15s?”

  “A handful. But with all the kids around, they’re kept locked up.”

  Chaos’s brows rise. “Okay. Now what about explosives? I heard they were responsible when the Rock Demons’ clubhouse in Phoenix blew up a couple of years back.”

  “Slick’s the explosive’s ex
pert. I don’t know what he has now. Since the wildfire in the summer they’ve been moving stuff off-site. Put the wind up them to have a fire come so close. They’re paranoid about harming the children.”

  He narrows his eyes incredulously, and I worry I’ve stretched it too far, but am relieved when he scoffs. “Women and fucking kids dictating every move? Never heard the fucking like. Don’t need pussy saying we should keep fucking guns anywhere but close at hand. Fucking assholes. Taking them out is going to be a piece of cake.” He chuckles, obviously pleased with what I’ve told him. “Okay, so what did you want me for?”

  He’s in a good mood, perhaps this won’t be too hard. “The girl in the cellar…”

  “Not fucking bleeding again, is she?” He sneers. “If she is, keep that shit to yourself.”

  “Not in the same way.” I summon up a worried expression. When I think of her condition it isn’t hard.

  That’s caught his attention. “What do you mean by that?”

  “She’s lying on a filthy mattress, in dirty clothes. I saw her legs, she’s got fuckin’ bed sores.” I’m not lying. I have. One day I’m going to wring Chaos’ neck for letting her get into such a state.

  “Not much I can do about that,” he replies dismissively.

  “Look, I don’t know why she’s here, but as we’re feedin’ her, I suspect you don’t want the sores to become infected and have her die on you.”

  That brings him up. “Die? She in danger of that?”

  “Seen if before.” I lie. “It’s what happens with bedridden patients. They get MRSA or some such shit. Septicaemia if the sores fester.”

  It’s his turn to look worried. “I can’t have her fucking dying on us. What do you suggest?”

  Got him. “Simple,” I answer. “A shower, a change of clothes. That should sort her out.”

  He stares at me, huffs a laugh, then points his finger. “You suggested it, you fucking sort it. And, Prospect? Keep your fucking hands off her. You don’t see her naked for a second, understood? Hawk would fucking kill me.”

  Being a good prospect, I don’t ask who Hawk is. Instead, I suppress the grin that’s trying hard to rearrange my features, battling to scowl instead. “Got it. I get her showered and don’t touch her. No problem there, Prez.”

  Chapter 8

  Becca

  It might be my eighteenth birthday, but like the other seventeen that have gone before, I don’t expect anything to mark it. No cards, no good wishes, and certainly no presents.

  When I wake I stretch, knowing today I’ve become a legal adult. It’s words only. I’m not naïve, I know I haven’t grown up. I’ve watched the girl next door from my window, who, while a few months younger, seems older than me. I’ve seen the young man who comes to collect her and take her out, and spied on her as she returns giggling and happy, wondered at her being kissed by him on the door step. I heard the party she had when she turned sixteen, watched all her friends, male and female, turn up. My parents prayed long and hard that night.

  I know nothing but this house and the church, or the few outings and picnics attended with members of the congregation, or visits to the doctor or orthodontist. I couldn’t catch a bus, never handled any money other than what I was given to put into the collection box. Eighteen years might have passed, but I know little more than I had at thirteen. I’ve never watched anything on TV but religious programs, or sometimes the news.

  Enough self-examination. Time to get up. I eye the clothes my mother had laid out for me, my head tilting in puzzlement. Why a white dress? It’s pretty, with a lacey insert making it demure up to the neck. My eyes crease. It seems far too delicate and fragile for my household chores. Never one to argue with her choices, just put on the clothes I’m expected to wear, so today’s no exception.

  Feeling awkward and strange, I descend and join my parents for breakfast. Dad’s home today, as my birthday falls on a Saturday.

  They seem excited, expectant, but I know better than to ask why. If I need to know, they’ll tell me.

  “So, Becca. This is a day that’s been a long time coming.” For once Dad is jovial. I didn’t realise he could smile until now, or at least, not at me. All my life I’ve tried to be the good, obedient daughter he wanted, but somehow always came up short of his expectations.

  “You’ve finished with your schooling now. You’re an adult.” Mom seems delighted.

  As I sit wondering what is so significant about me reaching the age of maturity, the doorbell rings. I don’t take much notice, knowing it will have nothing to do with me. Mum gets up quickly to answer it.

  “Pastor Gardner. Come in.”

  “Call me Alexis, please, Anna. We’re about to be family.”

  I turn at the pastor’s strange statement in time to see Mom blushing. Like my father, she’s beaming with pleasure. I start to rise, to make myself absent while the adults talk, but her next words have me pausing.

  “Come in,” she urges again. “Rebecca’s ready and waiting.” At my name my ears perk up. What am I ready and waiting for?

  Imitating my father, I stand as the pastor enters the room. Has he come to wish me Happy Birthday? That would be strange. Neither of my parents have said it.

  “Becca.” Pastor Gardner stretches out his hand. “What a wonderful morning this is.”

  Still bemused, I feel his fingers wrap around mine, but he doesn’t just shake it. No, he holds on. “Pastor,” I greet him.

  “Call me Alexis, or better, my nickname, Hawk.”

  My parents aren’t allowed that formality, why me?

  My father coughs and pointedly looks at his watch.

  “Yes,” Pastor…Hawk says. “Becca, today you’re going to make me the happiest man in the world. You’re going to become my wife.”

  It takes me a moment to process his words. Then I wrench my hand from his in horror. “No,” I squeak, then try again more firmly. “You’re mistaken, Pastor. I’m marrying no one. I’m sorry.”

  “Becca!” My father says sharply. “It’s all been arranged. We’re expected at church in an hour.”

  Arranged? I certainly had no part in the arrangements. “Dad, I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  “Just do what you’re told, Becca. Can’t you see what an honour this is? You’ll be the pastor’s wife and will be well looked after.”

  My eyes flick to Mom, immediately sensing I’ll get no support. I can’t get my head around it. This must be a nightmare I’ve yet to wake up from. I try pinching myself, but it doesn’t work. I look at Hawk. “You’re too old for me to be marrying you,” I tell him bluntly.

  “Older men have the experience to cope with a young wife,” the pastor explains reasonably, my father nodding his agreement.

  “Pastor Gardner will be able to continue your education,” Dad says. “Don’t forget what you’ve learned to date.” His eyes harden, his voice deepens. “Obey your parents and your husband.”

  I lean on the chair for support, looking down at my half-eaten breakfast, wishing I could wake up from this terrible dream. My eyes go to my mother, then my father. They both look as determined as I’ve ever seen them. “You can’t mean this.” My voice is little more than a whisper.

  Again, Dad consults his watch. “Come on, Becca. Everyone will be getting to the church soon. We need to be there and ready. Today will be the happiest of your life. Now take your fiancé’s hand and let’s get going.”

  My fiancé? I must have missed the bit where he asked me.

  “I have a say…”

  “No, you don’t,” Mom snaps. “You’re going to church and saying your vows in front of God, and you will mean them. You will be a dutiful and faithful wife to your husband.” She pauses. “If you don’t, we’ll disown you. We brought you up to obey. We know what’s best for you. And that’s marrying the pastor. What more could you hope for?”

  I’ve been home schooled, which amounted to being taught little more than everything in the Bible. I’m not equipped for any job, except looking afte
r a home. What could I do if they turned me out? I’ve no money, no prospects. No friends or relatives who could help.

  Hawk’s been quiet, letting my parents deal with me. Now he enters the conversation. “Come, Becca. You’re eighteen today. Time to step into your new life. Time to set foot on the path that God’s laid out for you.”

  His voice is gentle, almost mesmerising. He’s a pastor, perhaps he does know God’s plan. What choice have I got? None.

  After three years, am I at last escaping his clutches?

  There’s a black SUV waiting just where Rock told me it would be. Suddenly cautious, I pause before approaching it. Am I right to trust Rock? What do I know about him? Nothing at all except he’s been the only person to be kind to me, to treat me like a human being since Hawk went to prison. Actually, before that. I’d been Hawk’s prisoner long before the Chaos Riders took me.

  Is this another one of Hawk’s plans? My escape had gone smoothly. Rock had helped me reach the tree growing outside the bathroom window, my own adrenaline aiding me, making me strive to reach out to grasp it and, with a strength I thought I’d lost, managed to use the branch to let myself down carefully until I stood on the ground. Freedom.

  Wearing the shoes and new clothes that Rock had managed to scrounge from one of the whores, I stepped off the veranda as fast as I could without making any noise. My skirt might be up around my ass, my top far too small, but I wasn’t going to complain. Clean clothes for the first time in months, even if I had to forego the promised shower to buy extra time.

  As I cling to the edge of the farmhouse following the instructions I was given, the sound of the water I’d left running in the bathroom above fades into the distance. There’s a short run to make until I reach the edge of the treeline, but Rock had chosen a good time, all the members must be in the clubroom. I bend low, making myself as small as possible as I run, and am gasping for breath by the time I reach the safety of the trees.

  I’m out. My muscles are already trembling, my limited exercise in the cellar not seeming to make up for the months of inactivity, but I force myself to press on, following Rock’s instructions. Out the back, heading slightly to the right, across the open desert on my belly, getting to my feet when I’m far enough away…then running hell for leather until… Yes, just where he said, the SUV comes into sight, and at the same time doubts come into my mind. Have I left one trap just to be caught in another?