Slash_A Motorcycle Club Romance_Savage Hearts MC

by Vivian Gray

  “I’m not,” I say, now crying a little bit. “I’m not his. I swear. Marcelo, please. I’m pregnant. I need good food, prenatal vitamins, maybe medicine—”

  “That makes it all the better, don’t you see?” he informs me. “Does Slash know you’re pregnant with his child?”

  I shake my head. “No. I haven’t talked to him since I found out.”

  “Ooh, this is just too perfect then,” he says, an evil look on his face. “Frankie, take her phone, would you?”

  “But – I can’t – my mom—”

  “Your mom will be fine while we hold on to you, Erin,” he says, and it almost sounds like he’s trying to reassure me. “You will be cared for while you’re our… guest. We’re not monsters or savages. We are human beings, and you will be treated as such. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay with us until your man comes and finds you.”

  “Please, Marcelo,” I beg him, “don’t do this. I’ll—” I swallow hard, knowing that what comes next may lead to my very undoing. “I’ll do whatever you want. If… if you know what I mean.”

  Marcelo laughs maniacally. “Oh, come on, Erin.” He grins down at me. “You mean sex? You want to have sex with me?”

  “If – if you want to. If you’ll let me go. If that’s what it takes, I’d rather—”

  Marcelo puts a finger on my lips to shush me. “Shh,” he murmurs. “Erin, don’t worry your pretty, freckled little head about all this. I don’t want to fuck you. I have no interest in fucking you. You’re not really my type. No, I’m planning to use you to get to Slash, no more, no less. And as I’ve said, while you’re a guest at the Red Club, you will be treated fairly. Roadhouse, take her to the basement. Frankie, go out and get some food for the lady. And some – what were they called? – prenatal vitamins from the pharmacy. We want this young woman to feel comfortable, don’t we?”

  “Yeah, boss,” Frankie replies.

  “Now, Erin,” Marcelo continues as Roadhouse holds my arms behind my back and walks me towards the steps leading to the basement, “I want you to know, for real, there’s nothing personal about this. I’m so sorry it had to come to this. But you may want to reconsider who you, shall we say, go into business with from now on.”

  “I already am,” I say, fuming. “I should have never trusted you, Marcelo.”

  “Oh!” He laughs. “That stings me. I’m so sorry you feel that way. But I’m going to let it go. Do you know why, Erin?” I shake my head. “Because I like you so damn much. There’s a sweet innocence about you that we don’t often see here in the Red Club. Good girls don’t come around here very often.”

  “I’m not a good girl,” I tell him. Not anymore, at least, I continue in my head.

  “Well then, maybe I’m wrong about you. But whatever. Roadhouse, take her away. Erin, I’ll send Frankie down with the vitamins and some food when he gets back. You be a good girl now, okay?”

  I try to struggle as much as I can against Roadhouse, but it’s no use; he’s got at least a hundred and fifty pounds and about eight inches on me. He takes me down the stairs to the basement, which is more of a cellar, windowless and damp. There’s a small single bed set up, but that’s all. It looks desolate.

  Roadhouse lets me go, and I sit down on the bed. “I’ll be upstairs,” he says gruffly. “Don’t you dare try anything because even if I don’t want to hurt you, I will if I have to. Get me?”

  I nod.

  He marches back upstairs, and I watch him go. The door closes, and I’m left with a single halogen light bulb as my only source of light in this hellhole. I sit on the bed and sob, wondering when my life went so very, very wrong.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Slash

  I’ve been a little afraid to go home. Well, no, “afraid” isn’t the right word. I’m not afraid of anything. But I have been hiding out because I know that fat bastard saw me the night of the raid, and I’m sure Marcelo and his crew have eyes on my place. It’s what I’d do given the same scenario.

  So instead, I’ve been riding around ‘til all hours of the night, then catching a few hours’ sleep on the sofa at the Warehouse, when everybody else has been off and running. It isn’t the most comfortable situation in the world, and I’ve got a nasty crick in my neck from laying my head on the arm of the sofa, but it’s a hell of a lot better than ending up dead.

  But every night, when I finally do fall asleep, my dreams are of Erin. When I said she had her claws in me, I wasn’t kidding. She’s haunting me. That snow-white skin, the brown speckles up and down her arms and shoulders and face, that fierce red hair – I wish she would just talk to me so we could put all this behind us and be together again.

  I get why she’s pissed, to be perfectly honest. I think I would be too – if I were in her shoes. I didn’t lie to her – not exactly – but I wasn’t honest with her about what we in the Savage Hearts do. And while I’ll never forgive my mother for driving a wedge between Erin and me, I can’t say I even blame her that much.

  After all, she didn’t say anything that was a lie. Oh, she was her usual judgmental self, to be certain, and as usual, she didn’t think of me in the equation at all. But she was right – I had devoted myself to a bit of a criminal lifestyle, not one where people got routinely killed, but certainly one where I and others can and do get routinely hurt.

  I ride a motorcycle. I carry a gun. I’m not exactly squeaky clean – so, if that’s what Erin thought she was getting when we slept together that first night, she was clearly, clearly mistaken.

  As I’m mulling over all this, I feel a buzz in my pants pocket. I’m not used to getting calls – we Hearts usually communicate by message or in person – so I pull it out and take a look at the caller ID.

  It’s Erin.

  I can’t believe it. I’m actually a little overjoyed. I’ve been waiting to hear back from her for nearly a week now, and especially ever since the raid, I’ve wanted to make sure that everything was okay with her. The fact that she’s calling me now – can it mean she has forgiven me? Or, at least, that she’s willing to?

  I swipe up to accept the call and can’t contain myself, launching into a monologue even before she can say hello.

  “Hey, Erin, listen, I’m so glad you’re calling, and I’m sure you have a lot to say, but I’m gonna say my piece first, okay? Look, I know I wasn’t completely honest with you. That’s my fault, and I’m so, so sorry. But there’s something between us, Erin. I feel it, and I am pretty sure you can, too. So, the hell with all the rest of it. I’m relieved you’re all right – I hope you have been all right. I’m just… I’m so glad to hear from you. I wasn’t sure if you’d ever even speak to me again after you gave me the freeze-out. I – Erin? Erin, are you there? Erin, I can hear you breathing…”

  “Thomas Aaron Incognito,” comes a voice from the other line who’s clearly not Erin. It’s thin and masculine, and it sounds vaguely familiar.

  “What the hell?” I ask in confusion. “Who is this? Where’s Erin?”

  “Better known to his associates as ‘Slash’,” the voice continues. “I’m sorry we haven’t had the opportunity to meet yet. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m…”

  “Marcelo,” I breathe out through gritted teeth. “Marcelo Cruz.”

  “Ding, ding, ding!” Marcelo cackles on the other end. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner! Congratulations, Slash, you’re not as stupid as you look.”

  “What the fuck do you want, Marcelo?” I demand. “And where is Erin?”

  “Erin… we’ll get to young Miss McManus in a moment,” he says cryptically. “First, I want to talk about us. You… and me.”

  “There is no ‘us’, you sick son of a bitch. Now where the fuck is Erin?”

  “Patience, Slash, is a virtue. So clam up and listen for a change, you hear me? You took something of mine. I want it back.”

  “What, your drugs?” I seethe out. “They weren’t yours to begin with. And you’re honing in on the Savage Hearts’ territory. That’s m
y territory, you stupid bastard. It could’ve been yours, too, but you decided to turn tail and run to the next club over. That’s your own goddamn fault, traitor.”

  “Maybe it is, but we both know Jerome doesn’t want a war on his hands. And, in fact, neither do I.”

  “So, what do you want, asshole?” I ask him, fuming. Why is he calling me on Erin’s phone? I just want to get to the answer to that, but he’s got all the power right now, and I’ve got to play his stupid game.

  He tsk-tsks me, clicking his tongue sarcastically like an irate school teacher. “Language, Slash, language,” he scolds me, his voice dripping with irony. “Now then, what I want is the drugs back – and you.”

  “Me?”

  “You stole from me, you sorry little freak,” he yells into the receiver. “I have to admit, it takes a certain amount of balls to do what you did. So congratulations on that. But I am not now, nor am I ever, going to forgive or forget what you’ve done. You took tens of thousands of dollars out of my hands. And now you’re going to pay. And if you refuse, well, your old lady’s going to bear the brunt of it. As is the other little nugget.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand. “What ‘other little nugget’ are you on about, Marcelo?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” He cackles. “You don’t know, do you? Well buckle up and hang on tight, Daddy-o, because the bitch is ready to have some puppies!”

  “What the fuck, Marcelo?” I ask again. “If you’ve got something to fucking say, fucking say it!”

  “Jesus, you’re a thick one, aren’t you?” He laughs. “Put two and two together, Slash, you brain-dead idiot: Erin is pregnant.”

  “Pregnant?” I’m floored. I never in a million years would have thought that she was pregnant. How could that even be? We’d only had sex the one time, and…

  ... and it had to be mine, didn’t it? It absolutely had to be, because, unless she was lying (and I have no reason to believe she was), that one time was her first time. And we hadn’t exactly been careful.

  “No way,” I mutter into the phone. “No fucking way. You’re making it up.”

  “I speak only the truth, Slash.”

  “I don’t believe you. Not in the slightest. I’ll bet Erin’s not even there. I’ll bet you stole her phone and made this whole thing up to fuck with me ‘cause you’re pissed about how you got taken. Well, bitch, you shouldn’t have gone against the Savage Hearts, and no amount of lying to me now is going to change that fa—”

  “Slash?”

  This time, the voice isn’t Marcelo’s. It’s sweet and airy and beautiful.

  It’s Erin.

  Holy shit. The motherfucker called my bluff.

  “Slash, are you there?” she asks again.

  “I’m here, Erin, I’m here,” I say quickly, my mind racing for ways I can fix this. “Are you okay? Are they treating you all right?”

  “I’m okay. They gave me a little bit of food and some vitamins. They’re treating me okay. But Slash – I’m so, so sorry. I never intended for you to find out this way. And I never meant to get caught by Marcelo. He seemed so nice before—”

  “I told you to steer clear of him, Erin,” I scold her, but then, realizing the peril she’s in right now, I change my tone almost immediately. “But look, this isn’t your fault. It’s mine. If I’d just been honest with you about my lifestyle from the get-go, this wouldn’t have happened. I’m so sorry about that. I really, truly am.”

  “I know you are,” she says, sounding honest, and for the first time since our last date, I feel that connection with her again…

  But it’s gone in an instant as Marcelo gets back on the phone.

  “Aww, isn’t that a sweet little reunion,” he says with clear haughtiness. “But it’s time for us to go now. You listen up, and you listen good, and I’ll tell you exactly what your lying, cheating, thieving ass needs to do. And don’t think for a second about going to your MC for help, Slash, you hear me? If we get stormed in any way, she dies. Got it?”

  “Y-yeah, yeah, I got it,” I tell him. “But listen, Marcelo, I need your word that as long as I do what you say, she’s not going to be hurt in any way.”

  Marcelo lets out the worst, most vile laugh I’ve ever heard. “Are you kidding me, guy? I’m not giving you my word on jackshit. You stole from me, motherfucker! Now, you’re going to pay, one way or the other. You get me?”

  “Don’t you fucking dare, Marcelo,” I warn him. “Don’t you fucking dare lay a goddamn finger on her, or I swear to God, I will kill you myself.”

  “You’re in no position to be making threats, Slash,” he rebuts me. “I’m in control here, you understand me? I am in control. You will bow to my whims and jump when the fuck I say to jump. Get it?”

  “I’m serious, Marcelo,” I say, doing my best to keep my temper from overtaking me. “If one hair on her head is out of place, so help me God…”

  “So help you God, what, boy?” He laughs again, a truly sinister sound. That’s when I’m certain that I’m going to kill this son of a bitch. “You’re not going to do jackshit. You are going to go to the Warehouse. You are going to go get all the shit you stole from me, including the weed, motherfucker – yeah, I know about that, too. You will return it to me at the Red Club all by yourself, with no other guys. And then, you will pay for what you’ve done. After that, and only after that, will I release the girl.”

  “Do I at least have your word on that, Marcelo?” I ask, breathing heavily and feeling about ready to burst.

  “You have my word on nothing, Slash,” he says, chuckling under his breath. “You have your orders. Do what I say, or the girl dies. That’s all there is to it.”

  With that, he hangs up the phone. I immediately throw mine across the room, hurling it with such force that it smashes against the wall and breaks into a thousand pieces. I’m violent with rage. I scream out like a wild animal and yell at the top of my lungs, “SON OF A BITCH!!!”

  I start beating the shit out of the couch that I’ve been sleeping on. I’m just about to grab the fridge and attempt to throw it halfway across the room when Jerome emerges from his office. I hadn’t even known he was here.

  “What’s going on out here?” Jerome asks me in his understated way. “You seem… upset.”

  “Boss,” I say, panting, the rage still steaming off me, “I can’t – I’m not – It’s—”

  “Take a breath, son,” he says, his mere presence a calming influence on me. “Now come on. What’s going on?”

  “I just had Marcelo on the phone, boss.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Jerome murmurs. “What did that motherfucker want?”

  “He’s… he’s taken…” I don’t know quite what to call Erin. She’s not really my girlfriend, but she’s not just some girl, either. And clearly, Marcelo knows she means something to me. Then it dawns on me. “The bastard has taken the mother of my kid.”

  “I’ll be damned… You’ve got a kid?”

  “One on the way. Just found out about it.”

  “And Marcelo took her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because of the raid?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We gotta get her back, then.”

  “No dice, boss,” I respond coldly. “Marcelo said that any whiff of the Hearts or anybody else, and she dies.”

  “Fuck him. That stupid bastard knows he’s not gonna kill her. If he were, he would’ve done it already. He’s just a fucking pansy-ass motherfucker. It’s time we took him down like we always should’ve done. He’s been escalating this war for a long-ass time. I’m tired of it. We’re taking his ass down a peg or two.”

  “I don’t know what to do, boss,” I tell him, feeling like an idiot. “Tell me what to do.”

  “You know exactly what to do, Slash,” he reassures me. “You’re one of my best guys. There’s a reason I promoted you. I’m already thinking about making you my right-hand man, if you can handle the day-to-day of things. We ain’t had a vice preside
nt since Marcelo took up with the Tattooed Angels. But if it’s gonna be anyone, I sure as shit wouldn’t mind it being you. Vice president – think it’d sound good on you?”

  “Yeah, boss. Yeah, I do.”

  “Well, that’s great because you’re still a ways off from it. But you’re on that trajectory, you get me?”

  “I get you.”

  “So, here’s what you’re going to do: you’re gonna assemble a team, you’re gonna storm the Red Club, and you’re gonna get your old lady back. Then, you’re gonna put a bullet in Marcelo’s brain. Does that sound good?”