A PRICE TO PAY: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Zoey Parker

  Cain glared at Hemmick silently.

  “I thought so,” the cop continued. “And I'm also willing to bet that whoever this missing person is, he's currently in the back room of the Lost Knife, screaming blue murder and wishing his dear old dad had worn a rubber.”

  “You planning to go there and find out?” Cain asked. “Save him from being tortured by the big bad bikers, make sure he gets medical attention and a fair trial, all that?”

  “Well, I suppose I could,” Hemmick agreed. “On the other hand, my wife's been asking me for one of those new TV sets. You know, the ultra-smart, 3D, HD plasma ones, wall-mounted, with the 98-inch screen? So I reckon if I were busy shopping for one of those instead, I'd have no particular reason to pay a visit to the Knife in this matter. In fact, I might get so distracted by my new purchase that I'd even forget we had this conversation.”

  “You're a subtle guy, Ham-Hock,” Cain said, rolling his eyes.

  “Coming from a dude who walks around wearing a patch with a blood-dripping eagle on it,” Hemmick answered, “I'll go ahead and take that as a compliment. When you see Hunter, tell him I'll be in touch about the price of the TV. He should probably expect it to be in the high four figures.” He turned to leave, pausing to tip his sheriff's hat at Missy. “Ma'am.”

  As the sheriff left, a nurse walked in past him. “Mr. Vale? I'm here to take you to Radiology. Your girlfriend can wait for you in the waiting room.”

  “Swell,” Cain said, standing up with a groan. He turned to Missy with a sardonic smile. “I'll see you when I'm done, honey.”

  Missy's smile in return was just short of a grimace. “Okay, sweetie,” she replied through gritted teeth.

  Missy walked toward the waiting room and the nurse led Cain to the radiology lab. “It's so wonderful that you've got a girlfriend who cares about you enough to wait for you,” the nurse said cheerily.

  “Yeah, she's a real peach,” Cain answered, shaking his head.

  Chapter 8

  Keith

  Keith poured his fourth shot of whiskey, drank it down, and immediately poured another. He still had the coppery taste of adrenaline at the back of his tongue. He’d tasted it enough times in his life to know that no amount of liquor could really wash it away. Usually, it had been accompanied by the taste of triumph that came with knowing he'd escaped death.

  Tonight, though, it was paired with flavors that were far darker and more bitter in his throat.

  Self-hatred. And shame.

  Keith had been an Eagle for a long time, and an outlaw even longer. He had a lot of pride. He'd always had plenty of reason to be proud of how well he could ride, fight, shoot, and even drink. He was proud that he'd been able to carry himself as a biker and a badass without sacrificing the golden rule of “Don't fuck with anyone, and you won't get fucked with.”

  But the two things he'd always been proudest of were his sharp instinct for sensing impending danger and his commitment to watching the backs of his fellow Eagles.

  Tonight, both of those had failed him miserably.

  He drained the shot glass again, but before he could reach for the bottle to refill it, Hunter's hand clamped down on his wrist.

  “Have you had enough to tell me how you let this happen?” Hunter asked quietly.

  “I am so fuckin' sorry, Hunter,” Keith said.

  “Don't tell me how goddamn sorry you are,” Hunter replied. His voice remained low, but the tone was like a hammer hitting white-hot iron. “I didn't ask you how sorry you are. I asked how you could let Cain out of your sight while you were supposed to be protecting him. Or did you fuckin' forget why Eagles always get sent out for these things in groups of two or more? Did that somehow slip your mind?”

  “We'd already shaken the dude down,” Keith said, hating the sound of his own voice as he tried to explain. “He handed over the money without any problems, an' everything seemed fine. I figured we were in the clear, so Cain went out to the bikes an' I hung back to take a quick piss in the dude's bathroom...”

  “You hung back to take a piss,” Hunter repeated in disbelief. “Even though about a zillion different fucked-up things could’ve happened from the moment you two separated. Even though the dealer could’ve trapped you in the bathroom, shot Cain in the back of the head, then taken his money back and run off. Your fucking bladder was full, so you didn't even care.”

  “Look, I know how stupid it sounds, man,” Keith answered. “I fucked up bad. I got no excuse. You want my patch, you can have it. You wanna get the other guys together an' beat the shit outta me, I got it comin'.”

  “I almost lost an Eagle tonight,” Hunter said. “I'm not in a hurry to lose another, no matter how dumb he acted. No, there's two things I want from you.”

  “Name 'em,” said Keith. “Whatever they are, you got it.”

  “First, I want your word that you'll never take your fuckin' eyes off a brother again when you're supposed to be lookin' out for him,” Hunter insisted. “I don't give a flying fuck if you're so full of piss that it's sprayin' outta your ears an' you gotta take a crap the size of a birthday cake besides. You go in your pants if you have to, but you do not ever make this mistake again. An' if you ever break your word to me on this, Keith, fuck beatings an' fuck your patch...your life won't be worth a pile of stale dogshit. Understood?”

  “I swear,” Keith promised. “It'll never happen again.”

  “Good. Second, I want you to take all that anger you're feeling toward yourself an' point it at that asshole hangin' in the supply room. We gotta know what he knows, an' fast, before whoever's behind this decides to fuck with us again.”

  Keith nodded. “Whatever's in his head, I'll rip it out, guaranteed.”

  “You'd better,” Hunter said. He lifted the whiskey bottle and poured a final shot for Keith. “Now take your drink an' get back there. We got him all set up for you.”

  Keith swallowed the whiskey, stood, and stormed into the supply room.

  The spare rags and cleaning supplies that usually took up space back there had been relocated to make room for a narrow metal bed frame, stood up a few feet from the wall. Bones' skeletal form was hunched over the stubby legs of the frame on the floor, bolting them into place as two other Reapers held it upright and kept it steady.

  Nostril's wrists and ankles were secured to the frame with handcuffs. He was struggling weakly, his wounded stomach stuffed with blood-drenched rags.

  A modified car battery rested on the floor next to him.

  “Hey!” he shrieked, seeing Keith. “Hey, you're a reasonable guy, okay? I could tell when we talked earlier at the motel. You gotta tell these guys I don't know nothin', understand? You gotta tell 'em I had nothin' to do with what happened to yer friend, please! Just take me to the hospital an' drop me out front, an' I won't tell 'em nothin' about you guys, I promise!”

  “You promise, huh?” Keith asked mildly.

  “Yeah, I swear, man!” Nostril mewled.

  “Cross yer heart, stick a needle, all that?”

  “Yes! Fuck, yes, absolutely!”

  “I see,” Keith replied. “Well, Nostril, the thing is, we'd be happy to let you go. There's only so many times the cops'll look the other way when we kill motherfuckers, an' the way we see it, you ain't important enough to waste one of those times on. We know whatever went down in that parking lot, it wasn't yer fuckin' idea, so takin' the time an' trouble to kill you ain't gonna do jack shit fer us.”

  “Right! Exactly!” Nostril exclaimed eagerly.

  “An' as fer not tellin' the cops about us once you get to the hospital, we got no reason to doubt you on that score, 'cause by now you gotta know that if you did, we'd hunt you down an' fuckin' skin you alive.”

  “I do!” Nostril agreed. “I do, one hundred percent! You scared the shit outta me, I'd never do anythin' to get on your bad side again, you can count on that!”

  “Uh-huh,” Keith continued. “So that's all fine, an' we're gonna go ahead an' unlock you in a few minutes an' tak
e you to the hospital. That sound good to you?”

  “Great! Perfect! Wonderful!” Nostril chanted with the fervor of a former sinner accepting Christ as his savior. “I knew you were a good guy, I knew it, I knew it!”

  “Sure I am,” Keith agreed. “But before we do, there's just one tiny thing you gotta do for us. You gotta stop lyin' about not knowin' who did this an' just tell us the truth, okay? We ain't mad at you or nothin'. We just need to know so we can figure out what we're up against an' how it needs to play out. Once you help us out with that, we got no more reason to keep you here.”

  “But I don't know!” Nostril whined.

  Keith shook his head sadly. “That just ain't good enough, Nostril,” he said, picking up the pair of alligator clips from the car battery and clamping them on the metal bed frame.

  “Please! I'd tell you if I knew!” Nostril shrieked, tears streaming down his face. “If you let me go, maybe I can even find out for you, y'know? I know people, lots of people, I got my ear to the ground...”

  Keith bent down and turned the switch on the battery.

  Nostril's back arched as a long, gurgling scream ripped from the back of his throat. His arms and legs shook violently, rattling the short chains on the handcuffs. His eyes bulged in their sockets, and his mouth opened impossibly wide, displaying every rotten tooth all the way back to his molars.

  Keith let the electricity run for a few more seconds, then switched it off. Nostril slumped against the bars, his muscles still twitching beneath his skin like writhing snakes. Keith smelled urine, and realized the dealer had lost control of his bladder. He lifted the battery and took a step back to make sure he was a safe distance from the thin yellow river on the floor, and Bones and the other Eagles did likewise.

  “Come on, man,” Keith said. “Just give us a name an' you're free to go.”

  “I...please, I just...I dunno,” Nostril whimpered.

  Keith turned the switch again.

  Nostril's body was wracked with spasms as he thrashed against the bed frame, squealing pitifully. The ball of bloody towels fell from his abdomen, revealing the deep exit wound. Tiny blue arcs of electricity jumped and jittered between the cuffs and the frame with a series of small pops.

  Keith let it run a bit longer than last time before switching it off. Bones stood off to the side and nodded his approval, the blue lights dancing in his icy eyes.

  “Last chance,” Keith said. “Next time, I'm just gonna leave it on 'til yer eyeballs fry outta yer head, an' by then I won't even give a fuck what you tell us or don't.”

  “C-c-can't,” Nostril wheezed, his teeth clenching and chattering. “H-he'll...k-k-k-kill me...”

  Keith lost his temper and dropped the car battery to the floor. He reached forward, slamming his rough fist against Nostril's stomach wound. Nostril howled with agony, and Bones exposed his straight white teeth in a horrid grin as the other two Eagles looked away.

  “I'm the one you should be afraid of, you slimy fuckin' cum-ridden turd!” Keith yelled, punching the wound again. “Give me a fuckin' name or I'm gonna pull out yer insides an' make you eat 'em!”

  “GASPAR!” Nostril screamed. “GASPAR GASPAR IT WAS GASPAR FUCKIN' GASPAR SET YOU UP!”

  Keith stepped back, bent down, and snapped the battery on again.

  “I'm gonna go tell Hunter,” he said to Bones. “Leave the thing on. If he ain't dead after five minutes, cut his fuckin' head off.”

  Bones nodded again.

  But as Keith left the room, wiping his bloody hand on the seat of his jeans, he knew Nostril would be dead long before then. The gash in his belly was tearing open wider with each new spasm.

  As far as Keith was concerned, it was still better than the little zero deserved.

  Chapter 9

  Missy

  Missy had waited for several hours, sipping watery coffee from a paper cup and flipping through magazines that were six months old while Cain got scanned and stitched up. When he was released with a cast on his broken arm, she drove him to a pharmacy to get his prescriptions filled. By then, the sun had been up for quite some time, and her eyelids were getting heavy.

  Now Missy pulled the car up in front of Cain's place—a narrow one-story house on the edge of town with cloudy windows, dirt-caked yellow aluminum siding, and an overgrown front yard littered with beer cans.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Cain said tersely, opening the door. She could see his body tensing as he prepared to lift himself out of the car. Despite his rude behavior earlier, she still felt a pang of sympathy for him.

  “Hey, um, are you sure you'll be okay?” Missy asked, trying to sound casual. “I can ask Hunter to send someone over to help you out while you're resting.”

  Cain bristled visibly, and Missy prepared for another surly comeback. But when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly soft. “The guys have got better stuff to do than bring me groceries and shit like that. I appreciate the offer, though. I'll see you around.”

  “Yeah,” Missy replied. “Hope you feel better soon.”

  Inwardly, she scolded herself. Hope you feel better soon? That's what people say to someone with a bad cold, not someone who's been almost beaten to death.

  There was an awkward pause, and Cain said, “You know, I mostly remember you from the night I got my VP patch.”

  Missy chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you would remember that. I'll bet Marian sure does.”

  Cain laughed, then winced at the pain in his sides. “I thought that was pretty cool, the way you stood up for your brother like that. You're usually so quiet, I wouldn't have guessed you had an ass-kicking like that in you.”

  “Element of surprise,” Missy said. “Gets 'em every time.”

  “Anyway, thanks again,” Cain said. He pulled himself out of his seat and shut the car door behind him. Missy watched him make his way to the front door, staggering slightly and fumbling for his keys. Her eyes traveled down to his tight and narrow behind, and she found her mind drifting again as she wondered what it would be like to give that ass a playful squeeze.

  Cain glanced behind him, saw that she was watching him, and raised an eyebrow.

  Missy felt herself blush again. Damn it, she thought. Since when do I blush at all, let alone twice in one day?

  “Just making sure you made it in okay,” she called out.

  “Yeah, I'm fine,” Cain called back, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

  Missy drove away, heading back to the house she shared with Hunter. As she pulled into their driveway, she saw Hunter standing on the porch, waiting for her.

  “How is he?” Hunter asked as Missy walked up to the house.

  “Pretty banged up,” she answered, “but the doctor said he'll be fine as long as he rests up for about a week.”

  “Good,” Hunter said. His voice sounded far away, and his eyes looked dark and haunted.

  “Did you find out who did it?” Missy asked.

  Hunter nodded slowly, but didn't say anything. The way he was acting was starting to scare her. She couldn't remember the last time he'd seemed so frightened and uncertain.

  In fact, she was pretty sure he never had.

  Still, Missy knew that if he wasn't ready to tell her the whole story, there wasn't much else she could do. “Okay, I'm gonna grab some rest,” she said. “I'll see you at the Knife later.”

  “Listen, why don't you just hang back for a while, okay?” Hunter said. “I'm not sure whether I want you coming in tonight or not. Just keep your phone on and wait to hear from me.”

  Missy frowned, confused. “Sure,” she said, “if that's what you want. Why, what's going on?”

  “I'm not entirely clear on that yet,” Hunter replied. “But I'm gonna send a couple of the guys over later just to check in on you an’ make sure you're okay.”

  Missy put her hand on Hunter's shoulder, searching his eyes. “Hunter, what kind of trouble are we in, here?”

  Hunter sighed. “The bad kind, sis. Maybe even the worst kind.”

&
nbsp; Chapter 10

  Missy

  Hunter made a few calls to Eagles on his cell phone, speaking too quietly for Missy to hear. Then he rode off on his bike.

  Missy went upstairs, stripped off her clothes, and started the shower. She hated the smell of hospitals—rubber and linoleum, disinfectant, and the obscure stink of disease—and she felt like it was still clinging to her hair and clothes after so many hours waiting for Cain.

  The plumbing in the house was old, and she had to wait a while for the water to go from cold and rust-brown to clear and steaming. When it was ready, she stepped in and soaped herself with body wash and her loofah, feeling her tense muscles loosen under the warm spray.