Havoc (Devil's Boneyard MC 3)

by Harley Wylde

  I didn’t understand what the fuck was going on. How had I gotten to South America, and how had this asshole found me?

  “I see you’re confused,” Silva said. “Demonic Reign made an agreement with Slater to take you out of the equation so he could get his hands on the little whore who got him fired. I’ve been after Slater for a while now. We had an arrangement. He filtered my drugs into the prison system in the States, and in exchange he got a hefty sum.”

  “And when he got fired you didn’t have a way to do business,” I said.

  “That’s only part of it. It seems that Mr. Slater thought to pocket the rest of my drugs and sell them himself, cutting me out completely. Loyalty goes a long way with me, Mr. Havoc.”

  “I don’t understand how Demonic Reign fits into this,” I said.

  “They work for me from time to time, and knew I wanted Slater. So they made an arrangement with him. My fight rings down here are legendary and when they saw you, they knew I’d want you. Money changed hands, and now you’re mine,” Silva said.

  “And my brothers?” I asked.

  “Not my concern,” Silva said.

  “You ensure the safety of my club, and see my brothers are sent back home, and I’ll do what you want. But I want it in writing that in six months I walk out of here a free man, with passage back to the States.”

  “A shrewd businessman. I like that, Mr. Havoc.” He looked at the man still holding a gun to my back. “See that he’s given adequate quarters, proper meals, and access to the gym. I need him in top form.”

  “Yes, Boss,” said the asshole at my back.

  I was shown to a room one floor up. It was sparse, but adequate. Bathroom, bed, dresser. I didn’t really need anything else.

  “There’s a gym down the hall,” he said. “This floor remains on lockdown at all times. So don’t get any ideas about slipping away. Kitchen is four doors down on your right. If there’s something you need that we don’t have, add it to the list on the fridge.”

  “Will he keep his word?” I asked.

  The man hesitated. “Probably.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “It means if you win, he’ll want to keep you. You lose, and he’ll kill you.” The guy shrugged. “I’d suggest winning and hope he holds to the agreement. And signing something won’t mean shit.”

  I hesitated a second, not wanting to show any weakness, but I couldn’t leave my club and Jordan in the dark.

  “Is there any way to get a message to someone?” I asked.

  His dark eyes focused on me. “Look, we all have families to support. If you have a girl back home, or kids, I’d keep that shit to yourself. If Mr. Silva thinks he has leverage against you, he’ll use it. For the next six months, you eat, breathe, and live for fighting. Clear your mind of everything else, or you’ll end up dead.”

  The guard walked off, leaving me to contemplate my fate. I slid my cut from my shoulders and stared at it a moment. For the next six months, I wasn’t Sergeant at Arms, wasn’t Devil’s Boneyard, wasn’t the man who loved Jordan. I’d shut that shit off, take care of business, and then go home.

  I put my cut into the top dresser drawer and closed it, sealing away that part of my life until it was time to wear it again. I wasn’t going to wear my colors while I was here. It seemed disrespectful, especially since I hadn’t even tried to find a way out of this shit.

  If I didn’t have Jordan at home, I might have tried. Ending up dead wasn’t high on my to-do list though. She might be a tough little thing, but she needed me just as much as I needed her. Since Jackal, Phantom, and Renegade weren’t with me, I was alone and needed to proceed with caution. It was the first time since leaving prison that I didn’t have my brothers at my back.

  There was a knock at the open door and I turned to find a small woman standing uncertainly at the threshold. There was a stack of clothes in her arms and a towel draped across her shoulder.

  “Mr. Silva said to bring these to you,” she said, entering the room.

  I took them from her and noticed that she trembled and wouldn’t meet my gaze. I put the clothes and the towel on top of the dresser and when I turned back to her, she was starting to remove her clothes.

  “Whoa! Hey, don’t do that,” I said, reaching for her.

  “Mr. Silva said I’m to do whatever you want, be good to you.”

  “The clothes and towel and fine. I don’t want or need anything else from you. Not now, and not in the future,” I said.

  She took a shuddering breath and finally looked up at me.

  “Can you keep a secret?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “I have a woman back home. I’m not about to cheat on her, for any reason. I don’t want Silva knowing about Jordan or he’ll use her against me, but I’m not going to accept your offer either.”

  She licked her lips. “I could… maybe tell him that you don’t fuck and fight? That you need to focus? We once had a fighter like that.”

  “Yeah, that’s good. If he asks, just tell him that. Maybe it will keep him from sending anyone else to me either.”

  She paused. “Your woman. She’s lucky to have you. I hope you get back home to her.”

  “Me too,” I muttered as she walked out of the room.

  I grabbed the towel and clothes, then showered the filth off me from however much time I’d lost since going after Slater. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. The fact they’d gotten me to South America meant they’d either drugged me, or I’d hit my head hard enough to be out for days, if not longer.

  The hot water eased the aches in my body, and when I was finished and dressed, I went in search of food. Adding some items to the list on the fridge, I decided to explore the floor that was now my prison for the next six months. I found three more bedrooms, but only one looked like it was being used. It made me wonder how often Silva purchased fighters, or backed people into a corner so they had no choice but to accept his offer. The floor was vacant, and when I checked the door that led downstairs, it was locked and I saw a handprint keypad next to it. The guard hadn’t used one to let me onto the floor so I wondered if it had been disengaged since the place was empty.

  I prowled the second floor and ended up working out in the gym until my body ached again. It didn’t feel like anything was broken, but I’d noticed some bruising when I’d showered. Nothing I wouldn’t survive. I’d had much worse in the past, not just in prison but before that too. With four Devils missing, possibly dead, I knew Cinder and Scratch would keep digging until they figured out what the fuck happened, and possibly even my current location. Having never heard of this asshole, Silva, it was doubtful they’d find me, but I could hope.

  The door opened and a man stepped through, dripping with sweat. A butterfly bandage was holding his eyebrow together, his lips were split in two places, and he looked about ready to drop. He sagged against the wall when the door locks engaged and met my gaze.

  “Whatever you do, don’t accept any drinks from them down by the ring. Ever. Keep your head down, fight when they tell you to, and pray you get the fuck out of here,” the man said with an accent. He held out his hand. “Andre Phillipe.”

  “French?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I have eight months left on my sentence with Silva. You?”

  “He asked for six months, but if you have eight left, I have a feeling he fucking lied to me.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Andre said.

  “We the only two fighters on the floor?” I asked.

  “Yeah. One served his time and left. The other…” He shook his head. “He decided not to play by the rules. Haven’t seen him since. They either put a bullet in his head, or sold him to someone else.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. Like I said, follow the rules, but don’t drink anything near the ring. Not unless you bring it yourself and entrust it to someone who won’t fuck you over.”

  “In other words, no one?”

  “Letti would hold it
for you.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Little Hispanic woman they probably sent to take care of you. Told her I was gay.”

  “Are you?” I asked.

  He snorted. “No. I just don’t rape women and there’s no way she’s doing this because she wants to. Wish I could get her out of this place, but she’s as stuck as we are. What about you? Take her up on the offer?”

  “No.” I didn’t volunteer more than that, not knowing if I could trust this guy. I’d only confided in Letti so I wouldn’t hurt her feelings. Now that I knew she was just as much a victim in all this as the fighters, I was determined to get her the hell out of here when I left. Just didn’t know how to pull it off yet.

  Andre smirked. “A man of few words. I like it.”

  “How’s this work?” I asked.

  “We eat, work out, rest… and when they’re ready for us, we fight. You’ll either have one big fight, or a few smaller ones. As big as you are, I’m sure he’ll throw you into the center right first off.”

  “Downstairs?”

  “Oui. All fights are held here. Silva not only places bets on his fighters, he also gets a cut. A door fee of sorts, I suppose. I heard him talking to another man shortly after I arrived and realized they were negotiating costs for a fight.”

  “Any idea what else he’s dabbling in?” I asked.

  “Drugs. Guns. Women. The man has his hand in every illegal activity in these parts.”

  “How did you get mixed up in this shit?” I asked.

  “Wrong place, wrong time.” Andre sighed. “My woman broke up with me and my friends brought me here to forget her. They wanted to party and bought drugs from the wrong person. Things went to shit and I was picked up with one of my buddies. He didn’t make it. I’m determined to make it home.”

  “More than eight months because of drugs?” I asked skeptically.

  “I started winning. A lot. It was supposed to be three months.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. It meant Silva would likely back off his deal if I won, but like the guard had said, if I didn’t I could end up dead. I was fucked one way or the other.

  Wait for me, baby. I’ll be home when I can.

  No matter the cost, I’d go home to Jordan and I’d make things right. I’d fucking marry her if that’s what she wanted, and I’d damn sure not take as many risks. Too bad that hindsight was 20/20.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jordan

  Three Months Later

  Unbeknownst to my brothers, or anyone else except for one person, I’d been doing a bit of digging. Havoc was still missing. Renegade had been found, along with Jackal and Phantom. Thankfully, they were able to heal from their wounds and seemed to be doing fine, though the few times I’d seen them, none would hold my gaze. I knew they blamed themselves for Havoc being gone. Truth was, my stubborn ass of a man had tried to be a hero, my hero. Which meant I was going to save his ass, one way or another.

  Outlaw was the Devil’s Fury version of Shade, and once I’d told him what I needed and why, he’d been happy to help. All right, so happy might be stretching it. I’d threatened to geld him if he didn’t give me everything he had on the events leading up to Havoc disappearing, and anything they’d found since. I’d found that pregnancy made me more feral than usual and most of the guys were giving me a wide berth. Probably wise since I was ready to tear everyone to pieces.

  Havoc had found Slater, but it seemed he’d gotten more than he bargained for. I knew the Devil’s Boneyard had picked up a member from another club. Demonic something or other. The asshole wasn’t talking so Cinder had sent the guy here, to the Devil’s Fury compound. I wasn’t supposed to know that, but I’d gotten good at eavesdropping. They just thought their Church doors were soundproof, but they weren’t. I really didn’t think they’d tried all that hard to make the man talk. I had no doubt that Havoc would have had the man singing like a canary within minutes. Maybe the Boneyard crew was feeling his loss as much as I was, but Cinder and Scratch had seemed capable enough of getting this sort of thing handled.

  Devil’s Boneyard seemed to think there was still a threat to their women and kids. Josie, her kids, and Jackal were still in one of the homes here. Clarity and her kids were still here too, but Scratch was back home trying to sort this shit out, along with Cinder and a handful of other Devil’s Boneyard members. I’d heard they had crew there from several clubs, everyone banding together to find Havoc and bring him home. It was sweet, and I was grateful they were trying so hard, but I wasn’t going to sit on my ass, twiddling my thumbs, and wait for good news.

  What was that saying? Behind every great man was a greater woman? They would have been wise to listen. I knew that damn biker they were holding was the key to all this shit. They might not be able to make him talk, but I’d be willing to bet I could. I’d do anything to get Havoc back. I pushed away from the table and shrugged into my cut. Setting out on foot, I made my way to the back of the compound and the little barn I’d seen on one of my walks.

  Badger was standing guard and stared me down as I approached.

  “Go home, Jordan. This isn’t a good place for you.”

  “Why? Because I’m pregnant and a delicate little woman?” I asked.

  “Not a damn thing delicate about you. I think you proved that when you went batshit crazy and damn near crushed Demon’s nuts.”

  I rolled my eyes. Demon had deserved it, and he damn well knew it. There were just some things you didn’t say to a pregnant, hormonal woman who was missing her man. The slap to my ass right after might have been playful, but I’d decided Demon needed to be taught some manners.

  “You can’t go in,” he said.

  “Let me ask you something. If it were you missing, if Adalia and your kids were here alone, what would you want her to do? Sit and wait patiently for you to be found? Or act on her instincts and bring your ass home?”

  “First, Adalia isn’t like you. She’s soft and sweet, and damn sure isn’t going to kick someone’s ass, much less come after me. And second…” He sighed and looked around before pushing open the door. “Try to leave him breathing. If he’s dead, I’ll have some explaining to do.”

  I kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Badger.”

  I entered the barn that smelled like piss and other unpleasant things. The man tied to the chair in the center looked like he’d been worked over pretty hard, several times. The fingers on his hands appeared to have been broken and healed wrong, the ones he still had, but they didn’t look like fresh breaks. That little tidbit told me that he was used to torture, and probably could withstand quite a lot. When he smiled, I saw that teeth were missing, but for all I knew he hadn’t had them when Cinder had picked him up.

  “They send something pretty for me to play with?” the man asked.

  I smirked. “No, you won’t be the one playing. I will be.”

  He eyed me uncertainly as I removed my cut and looked over the table of tools. Not as good a selection as Havoc had, but I could make do. Someone had already removed his nails, on his remaining fingers. Someone had removed a few of his fingers already, and while they had cauterized the wounds, they still looked fresh. I hated to take what was left of his teeth. I wanted to be able to understand his stupid ass when he finally talked. The asshole was shirtless and had chunks missing from his chest and abdomen, some new and some healed over. Might have made a softer woman squeamish. Not me. This dickhead was standing between me and Havoc, and I was fucking pissed. I picked up an ice pick and stepped closer. His legs were tied tight to the chair, leaving them spread. Perfect.

  “So, you’re going to tell me what you know about Havoc.”

  “And why would I do that?” he asked. “Out of the goodness of my cold, black heart?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of self-preservation.” I gripped the ice pick tighter. “Otherwise, I’m going to see how loud you scream when I stab this through your balls.”

  He sneered at me. “You don’t
have the stones, little girl.”

  “Oh, trust me. I do.”

  I brought the pick down, straight into his crotch, and the man howled and cursed as blood soaked the denim of his pants. Well, that should get his attention. I jerked the pick free and stared at him. Maybe if the clubs had gone after his family jewels, he might have talked sooner.

  “Let’s try this again. I want to know where Havoc is.”

  “Bitch!” He spat at me. “I won’t tell you shit.”

  “Pity. Probably a good thing you shouldn’t reproduce.” I slammed the pick down again and felt his testicle pop. It grossed me out, but I wasn’t going to be deterred. I wasn’t leaving this damn barn until he squealed and told me what I needed to know. I could understand why the guys hadn’t gone this far though. If it squigged me out, I could only imagine how they would feel, seeing as how they had balls themselves. I’d always noticed men winced whenever a guy got nailed in the nuts.

  By the time Grizzly walked in with several other Devil’s Fury members, the idiot tied to the chair was bleeding from a dozen places and was blubbering like a baby. Probably because I’d made sure he’d never use his dick again. Take away a man’s cock, and it was amazing how they suddenly were able to think clearly and use the brain upstairs.

  “I’ll talk,” he said. “Just please… keep this crazy bitch away from me.”

  I washed my hands at the nearby sink then listened as the whiny little bitch spilled his guts as I slipped my cut back on.

  “Raul Silva has him,” the man said. “He’s in South America.”

  I arched a brow and moved in closer, making the man flinch. “South America is pretty fucking big, asshole. Where in South America?”

  “He has a fight ring someplace in Colombia. That’s all I know. I swear! I just handed your guy over to some of Silva’s people. He paid cash,” the man said.

  “Well, fuck me,” Grizzly said, eyeing me with both respect and a little bit of awe. “You did what four clubs haven’t been able to do. I’m not sure if I should praise you or back the fuck away slowly.”

  I snickered. I didn’t have a doubt the big guy wasn’t even remotely scared of me, but it was nice to know he had my back and wasn’t going to bitch about my methods. The grimace on his face when he’d seen the captive’s blood-soaked crotch hadn’t escaped my notice either. One of the other guys had grabbed his dick and turned away, as if he felt the pain himself. Men could be such babies when it came to their cocks.