“I have his wallet here.” Tommy glanced at the table where a black billfold sat.
“Then you know where he lives?”
“Of course. He told me that a long time ago. Told me a bunch of other shit that doesn’t mean shit. What he didn’t tell me was what I want to know. Don’t you worry though. I have a looong way to go yet.”
The poor fucker let out a pitiful cry. “I don’t know anything,” he pled. “Please.” A layer of bloody saliva formed on his lips.
Trace repressed a shudder. He wondered how many teeth Tommy had already taken. The bastard wasn’t so good looking now with one eye swollen shut, his nose broken, his lips a swollen fucking mess, his cheekbone shattered. He still had all his fingers and toes though. For the time being. He wouldn’t for long. Not unless he caved.
Even after he did, Tommy might still take a few as prizes. The guy probably had jars of them at his house. There was a serious rumor that the fucker had a tooth collection. Not the gold kind either.
Trace’s stomach twisted and bile crawled up his throat. “My advice would be to tell Tommy here what he fucking wants. You get me?” He lifted the bastard’s blood soaked hair. It was squishy and wet and Trace wanted to curse as soon as he touched it. He shook the guy’s head for good measure. No use showing weakness in front of the bloodthirsty son-of-a-bitch right behind him. Tommy loved that shit. He lived for the kill.
“If you don’t, he will know everything about you by the time he’s done. I can personally promise that your family, your sisters, your brothers, your mother, your father, your cousins, your fucking aunts and fucking uncles, your friends, your- fuck. Anyone who has ever had the misfortune of coming into contact with you, will be taken out by this club. We will go on a hunt. The war path. We will come for them. Me- I happen to like the older women. I’ve always had a thing for them. Lost my virginity when I was twelve to my English teacher. The bitch was forty. Smoking body. I might have been twelve, but I still made her come. Four fucking times. So as you surely can understand, I really look forward to meeting your mother. I’ll be the best lay she ever had. Women sometimes complain about my size, but I’m sure it’s not a problem to her given that she birthed a large piece of shit like you.” He wouldn’t do anything of the sort. He’d never violated a woman. He certainly didn’t lose his virginity that way. Families, for the most part, were left alone.
Big Ted’s, the exception. His daughter, the one Trace was sent to find and bring back was the entire reason he was standing there at the moment.
She’d saved his life.
So he could return to… to what? To this?
The guy whimpered again. A trickle of blood ran out of his mouth, between his swollen lips. He gagged and the sobbing started. “If I tell you, will you promise to leave my mother alone? My family? They didn’t know anything about this. I swear. I’ll tell you if you just- please. They don’t know that I’m into this.”
“So you work for John Anders then?”
“Yes. Yes, I work for Anders.”
“And how did you get the shipment? How did you know when and where it was going to arrive? Who told you?”
“I don’t know,” the piece of shit blubbered. “I fucking swear on my life, I don’t know.”
On your life. How apt. “Then how did Anders know? How did you know? I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you spearheaded the whole effort to get that truck.”
“I did,” the fucker confessed. “I did. I got the order from Anders. I don’t know who informed him. They could have told anyone. One of his men. He has a fucking army. Connections all over the country. You think you’re tough? You and your little club?” The guy laughed. The sound was scary, dark and maniacal. “You have nothing on him. He could crush you like a bug.”
“He could,” Trace admitted. He respected the guy’s sudden burst of defiance and courage. He was going to need that. “But he fucking won’t, because that would mean trouble for him. The kind of trouble he doesn’t want. He’s been amenable so far. So have we. We’ve lived with the uneasy peace, but this- this is going to lead to war.”
“You have leaks,” the fucker babbled. “Leaks everywhere. I don’t know who the rat is, but I wouldn’t doubt it’s more than one. Anders has a long reach. Your whole club will burn in hell before he’s finished with you.”
Trace shrugged. “Maybe.” He glanced back at Tommy. “I think I have what I need.”
“I would have got it out of him. I was taking my time. Having fun.” Tommy cracked his knuckles. The sound echoed off the barren walls.
Trace knew better than to correct him. The bastard knew Bone was going mental upstairs about his missing cocaine. The guy was normally on edge, but damn. When a couple mil worth of blow went missing, shit really hit the fan.
“Right.” Trace straightened. He stalked out of the room. “I’ll report back to Bone. You can take your time here.”
Tommy’s smile was absolutely demonic. “Count on it.”
Trace made it out of the room and nearly to the stairs before the guy’s screams started up again.
Chapter 2
SANDRA
Friday night. Check. Road trip. Check. Run out of gas before leaving the city’s limits. Check. Get stranded in one of the worst parts of town. Check, check, and check.
How could she ever have been so stupid? Why hadn’t she thought to gas up before they left? Why did she wait until it was so late to get on the road? Why couldn’t she seem to get a handle on the smallest of things, let alone the big shit? Life. It was fucking tough for most, and lately, it seemed almost impossible. People called it adulting. Apparently it was a skill she didn’t have.
“Mom? What’s going on? Why did we stop?”
Sandra Johnson’s hands strangled the steering wheel. The fucking car was ancient, but it was all she could afford. Generally it ran well. The gas gauge though, she knew it didn’t work. It stopped over a year ago. She’d just been too preoccupied. Alex had been so excited about going to her parent’s farm. She’d been so busy packing, she just forgot.
Just fucking forgot.
“It’s nothing, honey. Uh- we just- the car…” Her hands tightened. She closed her eyes. There wasn’t much she’d lied to Alex about over the years. At eight, he was smart. Crazy smart, actually. His teachers wanted to skip him ahead a grade, but Sandra didn’t want that. He was street smart too. He had this instinct that wasn’t entirely natural.
Just like his father.
“We’re out of gas, aren’t we?”
Sandra’s eyes popped open. She glanced at the doors to make sure they were locked. “Yeah. We are.” She reached for her phone in the passenger seat and flicked it on. One glance at the GPS told her they were right in the heart of Serpent and Scythe territory. Not exactly a place anyone should be. Everyone in the city knew about the infamous motorcycle club. The area of town was bad shit. The kind of place no one should go in the daylight, let alone find themselves trapped in after dark. She knew it was their territory, given that she’d passed the club house a few blocks away. The brick building was notoriously surrounded by concrete walls and barbed wire. She’d glimpsed a string of bikes on the street and a few leather clad men walking around. She’d passed it before. Nine years ago, she’d driven by, wondering why the life those men led was so much better than her.
Was the allure of evil so much greater than the love in her heart?
She’d passed it a few times over the years and every time she did, she wondered if he was still alive. If he was well, what had happened to him. She thought that if he was dead, truly gone, she would have known.
“What are we going to do?” Alex’s seatbelt clicked off. The whir as it retracted focused Sandra’s thoughts. She imagined her son climbing out of the car, saying he’d go find help, because that kid wasn’t afraid of anything. He was eight and already he promised her he’d take care of her. It made her so damn proud, but it also broke her heart. He shouldn’t have to be so damn grown up.
“Stay where y
ou are, okay baby? The doors are locked so we should be fine.” She knew a door lock wouldn’t stop someone who wanted to get inside. They wouldn’t hesitate to smash the window. The back was tinted, the front not so much.
Thinking fast, Sandra grabbed her purse and her backpack and crawled into the back seat. She was tall, but slim. Always had been. Her mom once rudely told her that no one who had a kid and worked as much as she did should look that good. She’d also said dryly that women lost their value after thirty, but annoyingly enough, Sandra didn’t look her thirty-three years.
That was her mom in a nutshell. Always one for the compliments. Sandra swore up and down that if she didn’t have Alex, her parents wouldn’t have anything to do with her.
“I’m going to call a taxi. It will come and pick us up and we can wait somewhere safe until a tow truck comes.” She mentally worried about how much that was going to cost, but outwardly she kept a smile on her face.
“Sweet. I’ve never been in a taxi.” Alex was right. He hadn’t. “And a tow truck? That’s cool! I wish we could stay and watch.”
“I think they just bring a gas can. I’ll ask that they pick us up along the way. It could be hours though bud. We’ll go back home and wait, but we might not get out to the farm until tomorrow now.”
“Awww! Grandma and grandpa wouldn’t care if we get there late.”
Sandra worried her lower lip. She stopped when she gnawed a flap of skin off and she tasted the coppery tang of her own blood. “We’ll see, Alex. I’m sorry. I- I was going to get gas at the edge of the city so we wouldn’t have to worry about it until we were back. I completely forgot. The station would have reminded me, since we always pass it.”
“It’s okay, mom. Everything will be alright. I don’t mind being late.”
Sandra shut her eyes. Her son deserved better. Better than the tiny apartment she could give them. Better than the life she worked her ass off to provide. Better than… better than her?
No. Tears burned the bridge of her nose. She tried to be a good mom. Even though they didn’t have much, she was always there for Alex. She’d made mistakes in the past. Dated men who weren’t appropriate. She could have had a good life. Could have provided anything Alex wanted, but it would have cost her and she wasn’t willing to pay the price.
Steven was just her latest in a long line of mistakes. The six voicemails she had on her phone proved that just because he was in the past, didn’t mean he wanted to stay there.
Her stomach clenched and she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t feel sick.
A knock at the side window startled her. She froze, fear crawling up her throat. She felt like she’d just been kicked in the chest, as all the air rushed out of her lungs. She gasped and her eyes flew to Alex’s face. He was a good looking kid. He had the darker skin tone of his father, the same dark hair and eyes. He had her oval face shape though, her nose and lips and jawline. He was tall for his age. He’d probably be over six feet, also like his father and not at all like her.
“It’s okay. Just- it’s okay.” Sandra palmed her cell. She flicked the screen on, ready to dial for help if she had to. The knock came again. Apparently the windows weren’t as tinted as she thought. The car was old school and that included the window crank she had to turn by hand. At the moment, she was thankful for it. She sure as hell wasn’t going to open the door and she wouldn’t have been able to turn the car on anyway.
She cranked the window down a crack, since whoever was there wasn’t going away. The face on the other side was obscured by shadow. She made out the hint of dark stubble. Strands of dark hair fell forward, concealing the man’s face. His voice was thick and gravelly.
“Do you need some help? I saw your car roll to a stop. It didn’t appear to be running when you pulled in. You’re parked half in the street.”
Sorry that I couldn’t execute a perfect park when everything went dead. I was lucky enough to get anywhere near the side of the road.
“Out of gas?” the stranger asked.
“Y-yeah,” she stammered. She wished it wasn’t so dark, that she could see his face.
“I’ll go get you some.”
“You said you were walking though.”
“I have transportation nearby. If you keep the doors locked and windows up, I don’t think too many people will bother you. It’s not late enough yet. In a few hours though, you’d have a real problem. If you want to keep your tires and your windows, I suggest letting me help you.”
“O- of course. Thanks.” She wished she could form a coherent sentence without stammering like a bimbo. She wasn’t afraid of the man on the other side of the two inch crack. Something about him was unnerving. Disconcerting. The latent authority in his deep voice? The crackle of leather as he shifted? The fact that she couldn’t see his face? Probably all of it. “We’ll wait here. The doors are locked.”
“Good.” The man nodded. “I’ll be back within the hour. Anything happens, you take that phone and call for the police. The closest address to here is sixty-three St. John Street. Just describe your car. You got that?”
“Yes.” At least that came out firm and clear. Before she had time to offer her thanks again or ask him why he was willing to help her at all, the man disappeared. She watched his back as he retreated down the sidewalk and out of sight. It didn’t take long. A few seconds, but in that time, she was able to recognize a black leather jacket and dark pants. Broad shoulders. Massive, hulking size. Long dark hair.
“Who was that man, mom?” Alex leaned into her after she sealed up the window. She put out an arm and drew him close. She took comfort in the warmth of his small shoulders. If she’d done anything right in her life, it was having him. It might not have worked out with his father. She might have spent the past nine years wondering what could have been if he’d just been different. Been a better man. Made different choices.
Sandra slowly shook her head. “I’m not sure. Just a nice person out to do something kind, I guess.”
“That’s nice of him. why would a stranger be willing to help us?”
“I- I don’t know. I’m just glad he was. We’ll be able to get to the farm tonight.”
Alex grinned back at her. He flashed her a thumbs up sign before he turned into her and closed his eyes. She let him rest there, where he felt safe.
Oddly enough, just knowing that the man was out there, her kind stranger, was enough to make her feel safe as well. It was no doubt a false sense of security, but she was willing to take even the smallest scraps of kindness at the moment.
Chapter 3
TRACE
It can’t be. Not after all these years. All this time…
After the stifling scent of death and decay in the basement, Trace reported back to Bone and then took his ass outside, for a much needed walk. The neighborhood was shit, but people knew who he was. They didn’t fuck with him, even when he wasn’t wearing his patch. It just so happened, that he was currently wearing his leather jacket with the entwined scythes and snakes.
He was out clearing his damn head- and his nose- walking down the street, minding his own fucking business, lost in his thoughts, which grew more morose with every passing day, when he noticed a blue station wagon drive past. He froze, like he always did when he saw a car that looked like hers.
That car, and any that looked like it, belonged to his past.
Nine years ago he’d still had a shred of hope left, and most of his soul. Now… it was dicey as to whether he had much of either. He’d still had a name. A name he’d almost forgotten.
A deluge of memories assaulted Trace as he sailed out of the compound and out to the street. Her face swam through the blackness of his mind. He’d strapped a can of gas to the back of his bike and the fumes reached up him even with the fresh air rushing by. Sandra. How could it be? He’d seen a million of those cars over the years. They were never hers. Not one. Why tonight? Why now?
He knew he was wrong. The car was right, but it had been too long. Too many years.
She was probably long gone. When he’d knocked on the window, he didn’t expect it to roll down, let alone the bluest cornflower eyes to stare back at him, peering straight through his soul.
His insides were a mess. He’d seen a lot of death over the years. Some shit would make even the hardest of man toss their cookies. The sight of those eyes, the hint of silky dusty blonde hair, the fringe of those long lashes, those lush pink lips… they haunted him. She’d haunted him for nearly a decade and now, like some fucking present at a time when he needed it most and could least afford it, she was there.
Out of gas, a few blocks from the damn club house like a sick twist of fortune.
She was in that car, waiting for him. Waiting for him to rescue her.
He was no fucking guardian angel. He’d failed her when she needed him most. She’d told him that she loved him and he knew he was fucked. He’d been a prospect at the time, about to patch in. He wasn’t going to risk Sandra’s life doing the shit he was doing. He could have left the club. He could have got out. He wasn’t an official member at the time.
He was the dumbest fucking dumb ass that ever walked the earth though. Because he hadn’t. He’d made the decision to set her free. Even if he left the club, he knew that he was shit. He wasn’t good enough for her. He never would be. She was an angel and he was a turd. Nothing good would ever happen for her if he was in her life. He couldn’t burden her gloriously free soul with the weight of his demons.
His mother once said that about his father. That he was a curse. She’d then gone on to state that he was just like his old man. Trace knew his mother, god rest the bitch’s soul, was right. But she was no great parent herself. She was on and off drugs. Strung out more times than not. His dad was a piece of work. Fucked around. Drank too much. Ran with the wrong crowd and did shady shit. Probably supplied his mom’s drug habit. Despite all that, he always put food on a table and kept a roof over their heads. He provided for Trace’s mother until she passed, a needle in her arm, when Trace was seventeen. His dad followed six months later. Despite his many faults, Trace knew that his father died of a broken heart.
Lonely Rider - The Box Set: A Motorcycle Club Romance - The Complete Series Page 53