Oliver (Inked Menace Motorcycle Club #2): Shapeshifting Bikers

by Hawk, Ryanne

  9 Chapter Nine

  Penn Station was a labyrinth of working class, peddlers, homeless, and unique individuals. Nobody looked twice at them as they walked through, passing food courts, restaurants, and shops.

  “I’d kill for some bloody tea,” Amara noted as they passed another chain coffee house.

  “Well, you’ll get an opportunity for bloodshed soon, darlin’,” Hammer said from her left hand side as he breezed up and grabbed Maura by the waist, lifted her high into the air and planted a huge kiss right on her lips, making her squeal like a child at a carnival.

  “We can stop and get you something to drink, dear,” Oliver said and stopped walking to wave toward the brightly lit store with a line of customers waiting for their caffeine or sugar fix.

  Amara sighed and said, “Tea doesn’t always mean tea.”

  Oliver raised a brow at her haughty attitude.

  “What? It doesn’t. Tea means supper, or dinner, usually. I'm fucking starving.”

  Maura and Hammer halted and glanced at them with their collective ears to the ground, listening to their conversation.

  “You two, hungry?”

  They shrugged in unison. “We could eat.”

  “This one’s,” Oliver made air quotes and thumbed in her direction, “bloody starving.” He hunched over and exaggerated his tongue when he said it.

  Amara quietly chuckled and shook her head at him as she breezed past his warm body. “That was a bad impression of me, mate.” On the way by she leaned in close to his neck and inhaled, smirking when he shivered.

  They grabbed sandwiches to go, and each downed a large caffeinated beverage. Amara had iced coffee, much to Oliver’s bemusement.

  “We drink coffee as much as we do tea, love.”

  “Learn something new everyday. So it’s not like on television then?”

  “Not so much. We’re not all prim and proper, speaking in the Queen’s English. There’re different regions and dialects depending on where you’re from. There is a range of accents and slang.”

  “Cool. I’d love to visit one day. Sounds intriguing.”

  Their future wasn’t set in any kind of stone, so she let the comment pass and changed the subject. “The lab isn’t far from here, what’s our game plan?”

  A few benches waited ahead, and after some quick maneuvering through the throngs of people, they sat huddled together, just another group out for a night in the big city.

  “LexCorp is just down that street,” Hammer said and tilted his chin to the right. “Let’s walk by and people watch. See what the lay of the land is.”

  “Okay. We’ll follow behind you, just two couples out for a night on the town.”

  They stood and Oliver slung his arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Time to see what we’re dealing with.”

  It didn’t take long to reach the address, only when they got to the front of the building, it wasn’t what they were expecting. LexCorp was on a busy side street, but appeared abandoned. For all intents and purposes. “This is a dummy corporation? A bogus operation?” Oliver said, clenching his fists, a tick to his jaw.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions too soon. We all know looks can be deceiving,” Hammer offered and raised a pointed brow at their small group.

  As Amara peered at the dilapidated sign and rusted door, she admitted, if only to herself, that she was disappointed. There was a narrow alleyway adjacent to the building with a few metal doors on one side of the concrete wall.

  “I’m going to go check the doors,” Amara said and marched down the dank sidewalk filled with rubbish and cracked plaster. The scents were long since stale: urine mixed with tobacco, rotten or spoiled meat, and the toxic chemicals most laboratories used and a potent mix that Amara would never forget.

  “See if the door opens,” Oliver said from behind her. She didn’t falter at his silent stalking. Instead, she reached out and went to turn the handle, but froze as a dozen memories hit her at once.

  Panic seized her in a tight fist, her limbs locked in place, and sweat rolled down her forehead then slid into her eyes, mixing with the salty tears pooling and burning in her sockets. The mantra she clung to like a lifeline wrapped around her fragile psyche and she repeated, They will pay. They will pay. They will pay. With every word, Amara gained control until her leopard jumped to the forefront of her thoughts and chuffed with all her might.

  Amara fought through the haze and lunged at the handle, freeing herself from the mental prison of her captured memories.

  The door creaked as Amara yanked the steel with her full strength and tore it from its hinges. She set it aside and called, “It’s open,” to no one in particular, instead choosing to stare at the ground while she gained her composure back.

  “So I see,” Oliver quipped and slapped her ass as he went by and ducked into the workshop owned by LexCorp.

  Hammer and her sister jogged down the narrow passageway and then entered the building. Maura poked her face out and said, “Move your ass, noodle.”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  “Well, with the way you’re standing out there with a blank stare tells me something of your mental aptitude.”

  Amara seethed. “You’re such a rude cow.”

  “And you’re a bloody hen. Now shake that tail-feather.”

  The air inside was rank, and small rooms were littered with trash, old tables, remnants of blood, and shredded papers as if someone had left in a hurry.

  “There’s nothing here. Come on, we should go,” Hammer called out as each one of them searched a room.

  Amara’s senses amplified now that the sun had set and darkness reigned over the sky. Energy buzzed through her system and her sight sharpened, her hearing heightened, and her olfactory senses picked up dozens of markers she’d have to process and analyze later.

  “Hang on,” she yelled, as a high-pitched sound dove into her head and she clutched her hands to her brain. Then it stopped, and the ringing in her ears made her shake her head. “Did anyone else hear that?” she hollered, and inhaled shallow breaths through her mouth. At the moment, she’d rather taste the stench than memorize it.

  “Yeah,” the others called out.

  “What the fuck was it?” Oliver said and stumbled into the center of the largest room just as Amara walked through the far doorway. Hammer and Maura joined them, their guards up, eyes scrutinizing the space looking for traps.

  “If I were to guess,” Amara said in a clipped voice, “I’d say it was an alarm of some kind, perhaps alerting them to our presence.”

  “Doesn’t seem like anyone’s been here in a long time.”

  “I learned a long time ago, never discount fanatics.”

  “Is that what we’re dealing with?” Maura asked and moved closer to Hammer until their arms touched and they laced their fingers together.

  Amara shook her head. “Worse. They’re extremists posing as brainy nerds using people to further their own sick agendas.”

  Oliver blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, which had come undone to hang in long waves down his back. “What do they want?”

  Amara hung her head and blocked the horrific torment and maniacal glee in which the scientists had pried her open to study her genetics. “Eternal life, I expect, though they didn’t exactly fill me in on their grand plans while they ripped me apart to watch me humpty myself back together again.”

  Oliver snapped his lips closed and said, “Sorry I asked.”

  Anger whipped through Amara. Anger at the people who’d taken her, anger at herself for being so weak and helpless she couldn’t stop them, and anger at Oliver for being so fucking charming and caring and sexy. Anger at her sister and Hammer for being in love when she was so fucking broken she wasn’t even sure she’d be capable of connecting with another, ever. Long, sharp claws extended from the skin in between her fingers, and she released the torrent of pent up emotions at the walls, ground, desks, and anything else that was in her sight. A haze of red wash
ed over her vision and instead of fighting it like she usually did, she unleashed.

  The others backed up and pressed themselves against the wall, but in her rage Amara still heard Oliver ask if they should try and stop her from destroying the warehouse and alerting the police to their breaking and entering.

  “Leave her alone, she needs to get this out or she won’t be able to heal.”

  All the wrath she’d stuffed down, swallowed whole, and chewed on for almost a year reared to the surface, firing her skin so hot she wondered if anyone did touch her, if they’d burn into ashes. For a good ten minutes Amara went to town on the place where mad scientists probably did the same to others that they’d done to her. For all of them, for herself, or for the others yet to come, Amara destroyed their place and left a note that they were coming for them scratched into the walls.

  All of them. And they’d better run.

  Hunting and chasing were much more fun when the prey ran and smelled of fear. It was the humans’ turn to taste the distress. Revenge, as they say, was a dish best served cold.

  She glanced at their small party and thought, and with friends.

  10 Chapter Ten

  The thick air was pregnant with dark thoughts as their small party made it to the garage and found the van on the second level parked close to the stairwell under bright lights. Oliver had to laugh at the prospect. It wasn’t like they were humans who were scared to walk alone at night. He supposed it was pretense though, and part of their cover.

  Hammer unlocked the doors with the click of a button, and as Maura sidled into the front seat, Amara and Oliver piled in the back.

  “Well, isn’t this cozy,” Amara murmured.

  The rear of the van was empty except for some metal shelving attached to one of the walls. Oliver shut the door and sat down with his back against the other wall. He shrugged when Amara sat down next to him and stretched her long, thick legs out straight.

  “Hard to toss bodies inside when there are seats, so we got rid of them.”

  “The bodies or the seats?”

  He sent her a sexy smirk. “Both.”

  She shook her head and smiled for a second before her face hardened by whatever thoughts had just twisted her up.

  “Ready to go home?” Hammer said and started the van. A steady rumble soothed Oliver’s frayed nerves.

  “Do you hear that?” Amara said and jerked herself to sit upright, eyes wide as she looked left and right, then at her sister.

  “Hear what?” Oliver said.

  “The bloody ticking.”

  Maura stopped talking and tuned into their conversation as Hammer put the van in gear and started to back up.

  “Patrick, stop the van.”

  Hammer didn’t question her demand, which made Oliver hyper-focused, and then he heard it. The sound was so faint he marveled at Amara’s sensitive hearing. The van jerked to a stop as his president slammed it into park and glanced back at her with a brow raised. Maura tilted her head.

  A faint tick, tick, tick came from beneath where he and Amara sat.

  He glanced at her, and her face was scrunched, eyes closed,then they snapped open as her lips parted and she yelled, “Bomb!”

  Hammer and Maura didn’t hesitate. They jumped out of the front doors just as Oliver jumped up and slid open the back. A potent fear struck him at the loss of those few precious seconds.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  Amara was the last out, and as they rounded the back of the van, a blast of fire rained over them, sending them both flying through the air. Oliver reached out and tackled Amara to the ground about ten feet from the vehicle, rolling a few times to get further away, shielding her with his body as smoke, flames, and metal flew in every direction. A sonic boom shook the concrete under their cheeks, and the van exploded, sending a raging inferno over their bodies.

  They lay on the ground, stunned, as their ears rang. Oliver’s body burned as pieces of metal fell onto his pants and scorched holes through his jeans, singing his skin. He told his limbs to move.

  Amara lay still underneath him.

  He licked his lips and slid to the side. “Amara?” he croaked.

  She didn’t move.

  Oliver lifted his eyes and scanned the garage, spying Hammer and Maura about ten feet further ahead, both on the ground but alive, shaking their heads to clear the ringing. Hammer met his gaze, his eyes a burning gold matching the fire surrounding them. He nodded once and pressed a kiss to Maura’s cheek.

  “Amara?” He nudged her with his elbow. She didn’t flinch or call him names. Her face was tilted in the other direction. Oliver crawled onto all fours and moved around her body, and when he saw her face, he knew why she wasn’t answering.

  A huge lump was forming above her forehead, and her face was covered in dirt and grime from the ground.

  A second later, Maura was at his side and Hammer was by Amara’s feet, and on the count of three, they lifted her body and carefully maneuvered her to a much safer distance from the heat and wreckage.

  “Who did this?” Maura seethed through gritted teeth. She smoothed her sister’s hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ears a they all waited for her to wake up.

  Oliver pressed a hand to Amara’s heart to assure himself she was alive. Her head rested in his lap as he cradled her body and he fervently sent a prayer up to the collective universe to heal her.

  Her breaths were shallow, but steady, as her animal worked inside to repair the damage caused by the explosion.

  “The authorities will be here soon. There’s no way this went unnoticed,” Hammer said. “We’ve got to move.”

  “I know,” Oliver said and carefully lifted Amara into his arms. For a normal human, carrying dead weight would have been hard, but thanks to his shifter strength, he carried her with no issues. “Where should we go?”

  “Who do we trust?” Maura countered. “Was this done by our own, or is LexCorp around and watching?”

  None of them had an answer for that.

  Oliver’s mind worked double time and he said, “Call Flip. Fill him in and ask him to find us a safe location on the down low. Ask him not to alert the others that there was a problem. Not yet. Not until we know what we’re dealing with.”

  Hammer nodded, pulled out a burner from his front pocket, and dialed.

  “Flip. It’s Hammer. We have a problem.”

  11 Chapter Eleven

  Amara jerked awake. As she opened bleary eyes, she inhaled, testing the scents out of instinct, even though her animal whispered that they were safe. Amara didn’t trust in anything she couldn’t see for herself, not anymore.

  She was in a room, lying on a bed. Oliver smiled and stretched in the chair by the bed. “Want some water?”

  She nodded, mindful of the pounding in her head, and licked her lips with a dry tongue. Oliver stood and brought her a glass.

  “Drink it slowly. Don’t want you to throw up.”

  The water tasted like heaven. She sipped and let the liquid coat her mouth and throat. When she’d drank half the glass, she sat up gingerly and leaned back against the padded floral headboard.

  “It looks like Martha Stewart threw up in here,” she croaked, her throat singed from smoke inhalation, most likely. “How long have I been out?”

  “A few hours. Pat and your sister are in the other room making calls.”

  “Do we know anything yet?”

  Oliver shook his head and parked his ass at the edge of the bed, stroking her foot absently. “Nothing concrete.”

  “Wasn’t expecting to get blown up today,” she said. “Fucking wankers.”

  A rumbling chuckle shook the bed. Once the laughter died down, Oliver said, “How’s your head?”

  Amara reached up and touched the pads of her fingers to her temples. “Wonky. I’m a bit knackered.”

  Concern marked his face in lines across his forehead.

  The door swung open and Maura filled the doorway with her hands on her hips, a dishtowel thr
own over her shoulder. “Thought I heard your cheery voice. How do you feel?”

  “I’ve lost the plot.”

  Oliver sputtered on his water and said, “I’m sure you’ll find it?”

  Maura laughed. “No, you half-wit, she means she’s gone crazy.”

  “Oh.” His adorable face scrunched up. “Why didn’t she just say that?”

  “Hello? I’m right here, buggers.”

  “It’s like listening to my favorite music, only the lyrics are insulting me.” He shook his head. “I’m going to get some air, talk with Hammer and see if we know anything.”

  He left and shut the door behind him. Maura strolled to the bed and glanced down at her. She looked tired.

  “Rough night?”

  A ghost of a smile crested across her face. “You could say that.” Her eyes flickered from gold to green and back to gold as she fought to get her emotions under control.

  “Was the bomb from LexCorp or is there some other crazy fucker trying to kill us?”

  Amara winced at a particular heavy throb settling behind her eyes. “Can you cut the lights? They’re murder on my head.”

  Maura turned and hit the switch by the door, bathing the room in a soft evening glow. “Where are we?”

  “Flip had a friend in the city with an empty duplex.” She shrugged. “So, here we are.”

  “Convenient.”

  “He’s practical, though he doesn’t talk much, and he knows a lot of people with useful connections.”

  “I can see that. Anyway. So, what’s your theory? I know you and Patrick are working on one.”

  She sighed and perched an ass cheek on the dresser by the bed. “We haven’t ruled anything out.”

  “What’s going on with the Gaver?”

  “The explosion’s all over the news, but so far, they have no leads. The van isn’t registered to any of us, the VIN’s been wiped, and I doubt there are any prints left. The police won’t have a reason to come knocking on our doors.”

  Amara blew out a breath. “Only your club knew our destination, and the prospect drove the van. There aren’t many other options.”

  “Yeah,” Maura said and clenched her teeth together. “But I don’t think Marcus could be bought. He’s been with us for six months.” She stared at a picture strung up on the wall, and Amara noted the lovely beach scene, so at odds with the big city lights and sounds outside. “Have you decided on Oliver, yet?”