Rock Bottom

by Manda Mellett

  His fingers cover my lips to stop anything else coming out. “Becca, I love that I’m your first in so many ways. The first to make love to you. The first to make you come. The first to properly arouse you. The first to teach you how to respond to a man. Fuck, woman. You’re mine, you know that?” Lying carefully on his side, he pulls me close.

  “I’m going to hell.”

  It’s only when he starts laughing I realise I’ve said that aloud. “What the fuck makes you say that?”

  I purse my lips, then say primly, “Because a woman shouldn’t enjoy sex.”

  “Then it’s good I’m a Devil, isn’t it? And I’ll keep showing you pieces of heaven on your journey to hell, ‘cause, fuck it, woman, I’m not gonna fuck you unless you’re satisfied too.”

  As I smile and lean into him Rock starts to laugh. “What?” I can’t see anything amusing, and his mirth is spoiling the mood. “What did I…”

  “Hey, hush, darlin’.” He pulls me closer, kissing the top of my head. “Of all the times I thought about making love to you, I didn’t think the first time would be make-up sex.”

  I frown, and then recall how angry I’d been when he’d entered the suite. For the life of me I can’t remember what we’d been arguing about. Or why it seemed so important.

  Chapter 24

  Rock

  I walk into Drummer’s office the next morning, already regretting having to leave Becca still asleep in my bed—where she’ll be tonight and every night after if I get my way. I can’t wait to help her explore her newfound sexuality. There’s so much I can teach her.

  I’m unable to understand a man like Hawk. Even the club girls know they won’t go unsatisfied. We’d not keep them here long if the men just used them to get off. The hangarounds up from Tucson who attend our weekend parties only come because they know they’re in for a good time with a biker. I grin to myself. Becca’s got no idea what her body is capable of. I’m going to make her addicted to me, and the pleasure my dick, tongue, and hands can give her.

  Drummer waves me to a seat, then finishes off typing something on his laptop. Finally he looks up. “Everything okay with Becca?”

  “Yeah, Prez. She’s good.” That’s an understatement.

  He smirks. “Kind of got that impression when I walked past your suite last night.”

  Making a mental note not to tell Becca Drummer had heard us, I ask what I hadn’t yet found out. “What happened, Prez? With the pastor and that man who was with him.”

  Drum gives a twisted grin, smiling with just one side of his mouth. “Now that’s interesting.” His brow furrows as his face forms a frown. “On our part, we didn’t say anything about finding the guns. Just reinforced Becca’s story that she wanted to visit the church.”

  “A blind man could see through that shit.”

  “Flimsy at best,” Drummer agrees. “But if they don’t know the guns are there, it’s possible they’ll believe it.”

  “You think they don’t?”

  His hands toy with his beard. “If they did, and they thought we might have found them, I think I’d have had a different conversation. I’ve got a feelin’ the pastor is out of the loop, but the man with him was hiding something. He also has some sway over the pastor. They’d have been in their rights to have threatened us with the police, but they didn’t. They were, however, very curious about our presence. And interested when I told them Becca was now under our protection.”

  “They bought it?”

  Drummer shrugs. “I’m not sure they believed us, but they found us outside the church, only Becca admitted to going inside. There wasn’t even any breaking and entering, as she used the spare key.”

  “You’re saying no one, other than Hawk and now us, knows the stash is there? Or even that the basement is under the church? This isn’t some new thing that’s just started,” I observe.

  “I’m not sure about the other man. He carefully avoided giving us his name, by the way. He might know, but until he checks in with Hawk he won’t know where we stand.”

  “You think he’s meeting with Hawk?”

  “I’d put money on it. He knew there was a body of a woman in the cellar.”

  “How?” I wonder aloud. “How could he fuckin’ know that?”

  “Something else for us to discover. Couldn’t take it further last night. Not with the pastor there. Need to see the man on his own, and this time question him our way.” Again Drummer strokes his beard. “Too many questions, too few answers. Something’s fuckin’ rotten in the church, and it goes way back. But it’s not just the history that’s interesting. Those guns we found must have come from somewhere, and in this trade, must be expected elsewhere.”

  “Was Hawk behind the gun running? Has he got his own pipeline, or was he using the Chaos Riders?”

  “I’d say it’s a fair bet the Riders were working for him. But who is he? The middle man? The man at the top?” Drum breaks off and tunnels his hands through his hair. “I’ve already got Mouse checking the pastor out, but if I’m right, it’s the other man we should be more concerned about. It worries me they knew about the Chaos Riders and their recent demise. That means they were also probably complicit in Becca’s treatment. Knew she’d been held in the cellar. And assumed she was dead because a charred, unidentified female body had been discovered there. But how the fuck they found that out, I’ve no fuckin’ idea.”

  I feel a moment of compassion for Jill, but put it behind me. Thoughts of what went on in that building has my back tensing and stinging all over again. Jill’s betrayal, her lies, and her last few moments are things I don’t want to think on. “How did you leave it last night?”

  “With deep suspicion on both sides.” Drummer shrugs, then stands. “We better get going, Brother. With luck we’ll find some answers today. Let’s get this ball rollin’.”

  I follow him out front and sit on my bike, kicking up the stand as I wait for him to have a quick word with Wraith. Although I’m leaving Becca alone for a while, I’m itching to get going, though not looking forward to when we arrive. Having spent a year inside, even as a visitor I find the pen depressing. Even more so as we’re meeting with Stub, the man who expects to spend the years he has left behind bars.

  Still, it’s a nice autumn day, and though the ride is relatively short, I enjoy it. The pain in my back has begun to recede as new skin starts to grow, so each time I ride it becomes easier. The feel of my real cut resting on my shoulders is still something I relish. Never want to be without it again.

  Both Hawk and Stub are being held in the pen here in Tucson. As soon as we meet him, I find Stub seems relatively cheerful for a man who’ll never be on a bike again, probably appreciating the break in the monotony visitors afford. He greets Drum and myself affably, then asks what we want. The Wretched Soulz are the dominant club in Arizona, and we’re one of their support clubs.

  After exchanging pleasantries, Drummer gets down to business. “We want information about a man with the handle, Hawk. Alexis Gardner is his real name. Be useful to know if you know of him, or if there’s a way you can get close.”

  The corners of Stub’s mouth turn up. “Know of him. He’s in solitary at the moment. Man’s got a temper alright. Got news that his wife was dead and smashed the place up. Guards shut him down fuckin’ quickly.”

  “Thing is, Stub, we need to know more about him. His wife…”

  “Ex,” I say firmly. “Ex-wife.” Hawk really must be a possessive motherfucker if news of what had been assumed was Becca’s death sent him off the rails. Once again I wonder whether he knew exactly what sort of hospitality was being extended to his wife. On the other hand, his treatment of her didn’t show he treasured the gem that he had.

  Drum gives me a quick grin and corrects, “His soon to be ex-wife is not dead, but is under our protection.” He goes on to explain the arrangements Hawk had made for her while he was in prison. He also, in hushed tones, lets Stub know what we found under Hawk’s church.

  Stub l
ets air out in a soft whistle. “That’s some heavy shit.” He thinks for a moment and taps his fingers on the desk before admitting, “I’m in with the Brand.”

  Drum and I both nod. It’s hardly surprising. When you’re in for a long stretch, particularly for life, it’s not unusual to connect with one of the prison gangs for protection. The only issue is that they still expect that affiliation to continue when you’re back on the outside. Of course, in Stub’s case that isn’t an issue, he’ll never be out and free to have to pay back favours. The Brand is another name for the Aryan Brotherhood. Which makes what Stub says next come as a revelation, and possibly one of the pieces of the puzzle we’re trying to build up.

  “Hawk was sniffing around.”

  “To join the Brand?”

  “Yeah. Him being a pastor an’ all, thought he’d prefer to keep his nose clean. But you telling me about the guns…”

  “It’s only supposition that he knows about them,” Prez says quickly. “But for the life of me, I can’t fuckin’ think it’s anything else.”

  Stub runs his hand over his closely shorn head. When he talks he’s thinking aloud. “I’ve got good standing. I’ve nothing to lose except privileges, so I take on the wet work for the Brand when it’s needed.” He gives a twisted grin. “Relieves the boredom at least. I’ll get myself close to Hawk. No one gets into the Brand unless they’re thoroughly vetted. He might not just want to get in for protection, but to set up contacts to move that shit, or for when he gets out. You know anything about him? He’s white. Think he agrees with their agenda?”

  “Hadn’t thought about that.” Drum’s lips press together. “You could be onto something there.”

  “Leave it with me, Drummer. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Drum holds up his hand. “Just had a thought, Stub. Can you be the one to tell Hawk his wife’s still breathin’? Get him a message? That she’s with us and we’ll offer him the same deal as the Chaos Riders.”

  “What deal is that?”

  “Damned if I know, Brother. They were holdin’ her for him until he got out. Be useful to know more about it.”

  Another grin. “You’re suggesting I lead him on? Let him think you know more than you do?”

  “Exactly, Stub. He might let something slip. Like what made the Chaos Riders do him a favour, what hold he had, or what incentive.”

  I can’t say I disagree with Prez’s plan, but there’s something I don’t like about it. If we play it his way Hawk can’t be served with divorce papers anytime soon. While I don’t give a fuck she’s still married on paper, I know it nags at Becca.

  When the business part of the visit comes to a natural end, a look of longing comes over Stub’s face. “Before you fellas go, tell me about your rides.”

  The remaining time we have with him, both Drum and I tell him of our bikes. Drum goes further and describes his collection, and the Vincent Black Shadow his old lady, Sam, restored. We then talk about riding, the wind in our hair, sun blazing down. Stub vicariously lives through every word that we tell him.

  By the time we get out I’m in desperate need of fresh air.

  More puzzles. More questions. That’s all we seem to have got today.

  Back at the compound, I’m pleased to find Becca in the kitchen with the other old ladies. Ma’s recipe book lies open on the table, and my mouth waters at the thought of them trying something else out from her collection. Might not have known the old woman long, but she sure could cook.

  Before she spots me, I can hear Becca contributing. “I never thought of using oregano with that.”

  “Ma knew what she was doing.”

  “That she did, babe.” Hyde leans over to plant a kiss on the top of Sarah’s head. Sarah being the great-granddaughter of the woman we buried a few months back.

  His action spurs me on to greet my own woman. I step up beside her, putting my arm around her, making her jump. Her face lights up when she sees me. “You doing okay, darlin’?”

  “Yeah, I’m doing good. How was your meeting?”

  “Good.” I’m not telling her where I’ve been, and certainly not why. With Stub’s help I’m hoping Hawk never gets to leave the penitentiary—at least not unless he’s in a wooden box. But first we’ve got to unravel the mystery.

  Dinner’s delicious, as I’d expected, and after taking a moment to thoroughly ravish Becca’s mouth and hand her a box I’d picked up down in Tucson, it’s with a full heart and stomach that I walk into church.

  “From the PDA out there, I take it you and Becca have made up?” Shooter’s grinning and giving me a thumbs up.

  “Christ. Another one bites the dust,” Marvel complains.

  “Beef won’t know what to do with himself when he gets back.”

  I flip my finger at Joker. Beef won’t give a fuck when he hears. He’ll just be pleased Becca and I are together.

  “How was Beef today?” Prez sends a warning look down the table and everyone at last leaves my love life alone.

  “In good form,” Blade tells us. “A little tired when I left, but he’d been talking all morning. He’s been told he should be home in a couple of days.”

  The table’s thumped, and ‘thank fucks’ go around as my brothers share my pleasure. It will be fucking good to have my old friend back. It’s just not the same on the compound without him.

  Drummer bangs the gavel. “Let’s get the normal business dealt with, then we’ll talk about what happened last night and today.” The brothers who’d gone to the church nod, some who’ve not yet caught up look mystified. “Okay, Dollar. What’s the money looking like?”

  Dollar pushes his glasses up his nose and consults his tablet. “Good, now we’ve got back the money Rock stole.”

  “Didn’t fuckin’ steal it,” I murmur as the others laugh.

  “Shut the fuck up.” Drum glares around. “Dollar, continue.”

  “Blade’s found a place for a tattoo parlour. Good location. Not far from the Angels.” I smirk. Get ‘em drunk at our strip club and then over to be tatted.

  Blade raises his hand. “Red knows an ink slinger that’s got fed up with Vegas. He’s coming to meet us sometime in the next couple of weeks.”

  “Any good?”

  “Did Red’s tats, and he ain’t complainin’.”

  “That skull?” I ask, quickly perking up. It was an impressive job, hard to miss, placed on Red’s bicep. As Blade nods I feel pleased. Be good to have someone to depend on once the skin that the Riders removed has grown back. “I’d like to sit in on the interview, Blade. Wouldn’t mind letting him see what he’ll be dealing with. See if he knows what he’s talking about.”

  “Be good to have you, Rock. Maybe Beef too. Both of you are no strangers to needles.”

  He’s right. Beef and I have dozens of tats. I reckon we can tell a good tattoo artist from a bad one.

  Drummer’s thinking. “Get him to bring his kit. If he seems likely, Rock, you up for getting another tat?”

  There’s a round of laughter and questions of ‘where?’, but I tap my thigh. “Got a spot reserved for him.”

  “You could always have Becca’s name tatted over your heart.”

  There’s an empty pack of cigarettes on the table that I throw, quite accurately, at Joker.

  Shooter thumps Joker on his arm. “You could volunteer to have Lady’s there instead. Oh, fuck me, yes. Lady could get a tramp stamp!” He bends over the table belly-laughing at his own joke. My lips twitch. It actually was quite amusing, especially watching Lady’s face.

  “If no one else has anything sensible to say, I’m bringing everyone up to speed on what’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.”

  I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table, giving all my attention to the prez, who holds the brothers who weren’t there rapt as he surmises what we found.

  Peg whistles when he hears. “Under a fuckin’ church?”

  Wraith nods. “Purpose built, I’d say. Whatever’s been going on has gone on a
fuck of a long time.”

  “Becca’s Hawk right in the middle of it?” Blade poses as a question.

  “That’s what Stub’s trying to find out,” I contribute.

  “But Hawk’s got Aryan associations? Or trying?” Bullet’s shaking his head.

  That’s my cue. “Prez, I asked Becca about the membership of the church. Everyone is white.”

  Drum sucks in his cheeks, but then refutes, “Not many blacks in Tucson, few more in Phoenix.”

  “Hispanics though,” Wraith suggests. “You’d have expected there to be at least one person of colour in the congregation. None? Now that’s interesting.”

  Our bylaws used to say we were a white only club, but that got changed when Dart, previously a Tucson chapter member, now the VP in San Diego, married his black wife. We changed the outdated rule, and now allow anyone into the club. Anyone male, that is. No one objected, we’d more likely judge a man by how well he can ride rather than the colour of his skin or, I cast a look toward Joker and Lady, his sexual orientation.

  Prez breathes in. “Let’s sum everything up. The Herreras haven’t come back to me since we took the Chaos Riders out. But I don’t count that much more than a reprieve, now we’re the only club they’ll be fingering us to shift their guns for them.”

  “And we don’t want to do that.” Peg’s comment sounds a challenge.

  “Nah, Peg. We don’t.”

  “Hawk’s got guns…”

  “And no one to shift them if he was using the Chaos Riders as his mules.”

  “If, Blade.” Prez points to him. “I’d say it’s likely, but I wouldn’t want to say that’s definite until we hear more.”

  A thought amuses me. “If Hawk was in with the Chaos Riders, what would the Herreras think of working with a club who had ties to fuckin’ white supremacists?” If we’d had those suspicions before, we might not have had to take the Chaos Riders out. The Herreras might have done it for us. And I’d still have the skin on my back, and Beef wouldn’t be lying in hospital. Becca might be dead. Or at least, I’d never have met her. Nah, all things considered, I wouldn’t have wanted to draw a different hand.