Shelter (Red Rebels MC Book 5)

by C. D. Breadner

  “There’s no way to describe it. I can’t tell anyone where I am because I’m the only one here!” Jolene frowned, and he knew then that he probably sounded nuts.

  “Try, Knuckles. Just try.”

  He shook his head, feeling the anger crumble and give way to grief, which was so much weaker. “I can’t,” he whispered, terrified he was about to start crying. Jesus. Already onto the manic mood swings.

  “Bullshit. Talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me. If this is a war thing, maybe Mad Dog can—”

  “A war thing?” he roared, both hands slapping the mattress. “Seriously? A fucking war thing?” Fuck crying. “Fuck you. You can’t understand. I’m telling you, get the fuck out of here.” The big, huge ugly world batting in his head and she calls it a fucking thing like it was no more than a gnat.

  She leaned in and kissed him. He was so stunned he froze, eyes open, then he shoved her back.

  “Get the fuck out of here.”

  “No,” she whispered, trying to pull the blankets off.

  “Jolene.”

  “Please.”

  The anguish of that word came through his numbing anger. “Jolene—”

  “Just touch me, please. We’re both fucked up.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Please.” She kept pulling at the blankets, and he held them tight to his stomach.

  “Jolene, get out.” But fuck. Something was happening, and he ignored it as his cock filled out. That was too fucking bad. He wasn’t doing that.

  “You don’t care about Danielle anymore.”

  “Shut up.” There was a coldness to his tone, and she still didn’t seem to hear it. Her hands were fisted in the blanket, still tugging.

  “If you don’t care about anything anymore, what’s the big deal?” she stood, pulling her tight T-shirt off, and his eyes went to her breasts. The bra was sheer, he could see her nipples. Fuck.

  “Jolene.”

  Next, she undid her pants and shimmied her hips, pushing them down her legs until she stood before him only in her underwear. His cock was pounding with his pulse, and as much as he hated himself for it, he wanted her. Maybe getting mad at her got his blood going.

  “Just watch then,” she said, shoving a hand in her panties.

  “Fuck.”

  She heard the change in his voice; the strain. Her eyes caught his, her hand was moving, and her mouth came open, breathing hard. He watched her hand, and despite everything he licked his lips.

  “We fucked with another couple one time,” she was saying, all breathy, eyes falling closed. “Not here. In Sturgis. The only other man I’d been with.”

  “Jolene.” His hands curled into fists, but what he really wanted to be doing was closing his hand around his erection and jerking off, watching her do what she was doing.

  “You want to just end it? Stop everything?” She smiled, almost sadly. “Then fuck me. I think anyone that does is destined to disappear.”

  He couldn’t stop staring. Even when she pulled her hand out of her panties, even when she moved closer and touched his lips. On reflex, he opened his mouth and sucked the taste of her off her fingers.

  “Everyone’s asleep,” she whispered.

  It was all she said. With sharp, rough movements he pushed her to the bed, yanked the drawer out of the nightstand, and tore into a condom with his teeth in the time it took her to get her underwear down around her knees.

  That’s all he allowed her. He rolled her to her stomach, pressed her into the mattress and shoved his way into her, groaning as she accepted him. There was a whimper, then she was silent as he snapped his hips against her ass. Six times. That was all it took before he went limp.

  Not even with an orgasm. Just...more guilt. The impotence of that thought of What the hell are you doing?

  He rolled off her onto his back, arm slung over his eyes. The little sounds next to him told him she was crying.

  “Honestly, Jolene. Please. Just get the fuck out of here.”

  Without hesitation, she was up. He listened to her pull on her clothes, then the door opened and closed as she left.

  And that’s when he started crying. Again.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Fuck me,” Danielle breathed, earning a wry smile from the doctor.

  “I take it this is a surprise.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  The doctor raised her eyebrows, turning to her paperwork again. “Well, I’d say you were at about ten weeks.”

  Her laugh was pathetic. “Have you ever in your life been a physician to a mother and daughter both knocked up at the same time?”

  Another wry grin. “I’m sure it’s happened. Not to me, but I’d bet this isn’t the first time.”

  She sighed, head in her hands. “Jesus. I can’t do this again.”

  “If you want to, you can.”

  “I’ll be fifty-four when this kid graduates high school.”

  “Danielle—”

  “I don’t have savings for three kids to go to university. I didn’t plan on this happening again.”

  “Danielle,” the doctor repeated firmly. “Do you want me to put you in touch with an abortion clinic?”

  That stilled her, and she remembered the pregnancy with Annie. Not something she’d even wanted to have happening to her, but the debate back and forth with herself had been grueling. And the reason it was debatable was simple; she didn’t want to be with her ex-husband in any way. He’d forced himself on her. More than just rape, he’d betrayed her trust.

  But this? Stretching her mind back, as she’d been doing after throwing up in a bucket with Deputy Sheriff Troy holding her hair back for her, she’d been counting weeks, because she’d known immediately that she had to be pregnant. She waited anyway, just to see if she was going to get her period in the next five days. Nothing, then she took a home test. Then she made this appointment.

  The question was if a broken condom was to blame, or if it was that first time. When he’d been out of control, wanting her, and he’d thrust into her bare. It had felt so damn good, and if that had been all it took for all this to happen...shit. What had she just been saying?

  “I don’t think so,” she said, leaning back in the office chair wearily.

  “Is the father in the picture?”

  She laughed again at that. “No. At least, I don’t think so. He’s kind of vanished on me.”

  “Well, I don’t need to tell you this, but I will. Know your options. What your daughter’s doing is incredibly selfless. Adoption is always a possibility, too. And for what it’s worth...you’re far from past your prime, Danielle. I don’t doubt you could do this if you chose to. If you need to talk, I’m right here.”

  “Thank you.” She meant it. She appreciated the offer, but she already knew what her choice would be.

  A brother or sister for Grace and Annie. Assuming everything went as expected, that was. And her, doing it all on her own again.

  No, that wasn’t true. Grace was older now, and Annie was almost as self-sufficient. But fuck, she was tired just thinking about late night feedings and diapers and the toddler years.

  “Fuck,” she whispered, making the doctor chuckle.

  “Take your time to absorb this, but I think you already suspected that this was what was happening.”

  “Yeah, I did. I recognized this from being pregnant with Grace. I wasn’t that sick with Annie. Or maybe I just didn’t have the time for it.”

  Doctor MacKenzie nodded. “It’s possible. You just kept trucking along. But if you want a moment, please, feel free to sit a bit.”

  “No, I’m okay. I’ve been working a lot on this multiple homicide. I’m going home.” It had taken a lot of time. Troy had been right; the FBI had come knocking, and Danielle had been losing sleep between worrying about being pregnant and wondering if the Red Rebels deserved a heads’ up. Then she guessed they probably already knew.

  “Oh, we heard about that. Must have been rough.” />
  She shrugged. “I have to get used to seeing anything and everything. I can’t be weak. I owe it to each person to tell the story they can’t.”

  The doctor tilted her head. “That’s...that’s a really nice way of thinking of it.”

  “We’re all people. We all die one day. If it’s quietly in your sleep, that’s wonderful. If it’s horrible, then I’m the one trying to figure out how it happened.” She almost lost the last part of the thought. She knew what happened to those six men, and she hadn’t shed any extra light on it. Just presented her facts. There had still been the feeling of serving as a witness to a final struggle, but she hadn’t been particularly sympathetic.

  They finished their appointment and she made another one for a month from that day. The doctor was cautioning her about her age and all that other shit that she had to worry about, then she was dismissed.

  The plan had been to go back to her office and do a bit more work, but, no surprise, her head wasn’t really interested in that. Instead, she walked out of the hospital, towards the parking lot, then beyond that to the green space just a couple blocks down from the school where Annie and Grace were learning all kinds of valuable things.

  She sat on a park bench, just off the concrete path, and took a moment to close her eyes. The night before she’d been in full crisis mode. Scratch that; over a week she’d been in crisis mode. Lack of sleep, unable to stop the panic and worry. After that appointment, she was somewhat calmer.

  When she’d gotten pregnant with Grace, it had been worse. They were so fucking young, and their parents were so furious. That might be one of the reasons she was so reluctant to make any contact with her folks even now. They’d helped after she’d left her ex, that was true. But not without that lingering air of Well, you got what you deserved. Like being a young mother was something that required the penance of being beaten by a man you thought you loved. They hadn’t even been angry when she told them about being hit and scared for her life. Just begrudgingly said she could move back home.

  Getting out of that house had been the fire under her ass to work for those degrees, to get her and the girls out of Montana. Her ex had tried to follow her, but the best favor her family did was only giving him a forwarding address for a PO Box, with a warning to stay the hell away from her. The child support was sporadic. A bit of an inheritance from her grandfather on her dad’s side had helped with some of the schooling costs, but she’d been working while studying the whole time. Her ex’s VA health coverage was the only thing they could really count on.

  Doctor MacKenzie was right. She could absolutely do this. But not by leaving town, and not by running away. She had to stay and keep this job. But that wouldn’t mean living in a bubble where she’d never see Knuckles or any of his friends anymore. The town was too damn small to pull that off.

  With a weary groan, like her back and knees were already suffering under pregnancy weight, she got to her feet and returned to the Escape. She’d have to tell Knuckles about his approaching fatherhood, and she was still just enough in shock that maybe pulling that bandage off right now wouldn’t completely do her in.

  She drove her Escape to the clubhouse, steeling herself to get out and walk up to those front doors. It wasn’t as terrifying as she’d thought. Hard to be embarrassed or scared. She was going to have a baby. He deserved to know.

  It would be obvious in a few months, anyway.

  She knocked on the door, wondering if that was appropriate. Did people knock? Walking right in seemed weird.

  While she was debating protocol, the door swung inward and Jayce stepped halfway out, squinting against the sun. “Danielle?”

  “Hey, can I talk to—”

  “Have you seen Knuckles?”

  They spoke overtop of each other, then just stared. Neither of them laughed at that, they held eye contact until she asked, “He’s not here?”

  “He vanished this morning. Took a truck and didn’t leave word where he was going.”

  “Maybe he wanted to spend time alone.”

  Jayce shook his head. “He’s...he’s not been well.”

  “Sick?”

  Jayce sighed, motioning her in. “No. Not sick. Just...not himself.”

  That was alarming. “What do you mean?”

  “I think he suffered a bit of a mental break.” Jayce’s voice was low, and he looked around them before continuing. “How much do you know about his time overseas?”

  She crossed her arms, feeling bad about talking about Knuckles behind his back. “Why? What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Something happened. I can’t tell you what. But...I think it brought something back. He didn’t try to get hold of you?”

  “No, not once. I didn’t understand what was going on, why he was just...cutting us out.”

  “So, what are you doing here?”

  She took a deep breath. “I just....I have to tell him something.”

  “He’s got Tiny’s truck. His kutte and cell are still in his room—” the young one, Spaz, burst into the room shouting. He saw her and stopped.

  His worry set something off. Danielle’s stomach dropped, and she turned back to Jayce. “Oh God. Is he in trouble?”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  It was still dark when Knuckles left the compound, stealing the keys to Tiny’s truck from the bar easily since everyone was still sleeping. He hit the highway with a cup of coffee in one hand, a print out with an address in Los Angeles in the other. For the drive, he kept the truck’s radio on the same one it’d been on since Tiny last set the dial.

  Waylon Jennings was playing as he pulled up to the house he was looking for.

  As a testament to the fact he was out of his mind, there was absolutely no plan. Just him, dressed all in black, and a loaded Smith and Wesson M&P. And a mark that he had fucking chosen, for once.

  He parked on the street. This would probably go badly for him, but as long as he took out one asshole it’d be a success. He was sorry he’d likely lose Tiny’s truck, but he was sure the big guy would understand.

  Tiny kinda set the high mark for personal sacrifice, after all.

  With the Smith and Wesson in the pocket of his hoodie he approached the front door, reached out and rang the bell. Behind him, the world was waking up on this street. The houses were big with golf-course yards, and someone somewhere was already mowing the lawn. A kid rode by on a bike, throwing papers on the driveways.

  He was far away Markham, but that was okay. He’d made his peace that he wasn’t seeing it again.

  Anthony Guidinger opened the door. Knuckles hadn’t been expecting that, and he just stood there like a stooge, blinking and wondering if this messed up his plan.

  Nope, because he didn’t have one.

  He pulled the pistol, and before Guidinger got his hands up Knuckles plugged the fucker with a 40-caliber round right in the middle of his forehead. The asshole went down backwards, the back of his head spraying the floor in preparation.

  He exhaled.

  The lawnmower kept running.

  A dog barked.

  The bodyguards were nowhere to be seen, and Knuckles wondered if it could possibly be this easy. Then, a voice right behind him.

  “Drop it, asshole.”

  He put both hands up, then slowly turned.

  “I said drop it.”

  He sighed, then when he got a look at who had him dead to rights with a Ruger at eye-level, he was confused enough to ask, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Former-officer Paul Unger snapped back, “Drop the fucking gun.”

  “You almost look like a cop,” Knuckles teased, not complying. “Go ahead, asshole. I know you don’t need a reason to shoot a guy.”

  Unger’s eyes narrowed. “I know you. You’re one of them, the Rebels. Why the fuck would you come here and shoot Tony? You have any idea what Sachetti will do to you?”

  Knuckles shrugged. “Guidinger was a two-faced rat. He didn’t work for anyone but himself. Wh
at about you? You on that greasy fuck’s payroll?”

  As he spoke, he heard approaching bikes. There was no way his brothers already found him, so he knew these were not friendlies. Not in Los Angeles.

  Unger’s grin went wide, and he lowered his weapon. “Oh good, the gang’s all here.”

  Knuckles rushed him, but Unger didn’t play along and shoot him. He absorbed the tackle, and they both hit the grass.

  It was okay that Unger didn’t want to outright kill him. He was remembering seeing Tiny that last time before he took off to distract the Sheriff’s department, only to get shot multiple times in the back by this piece of shit.

  The rage roared in his ears, and he barely took a single shot. Unger suffered every one of his, though.

  Red Mode momentarily blinded him, and two sets of rough hands were peeling him off Unger before he even heard anyone approaching. Someone called him an asshole and threw against the wall of the house next to the door, and they saw Guidinger at the time. “Holy shit. One of these idiots finally got wise and capped that wop?”

  Knuckles let his brain take in the scene. Four Dirty Rats stood on Guidinger’s lawn, one of which was helping Unger to his feet. Two had him pinned in place, the fourth leaned right in his face.

  “You’re far from home, boy.”

  “Yeah.” Strange how he wasn’t scared. A quick death would have been preferred, but outcome would be the same. This way would hurt more, but he’d done a lot of hurt in his time, too.

  It was only fair.

  “I could hand you over to Sachetti for this, but there’s a lot of Rats that got dead because of you and your boys.” His smirk showed yellowed teeth. “I think I’ve got a better idea for you.”

  Knuckles spit in his face, which bought him a crack in the temple. Then the world went blissfully dark.

  -oOo-

  They kept him awake with ammonia, just like he would have done. They woke him up in a basement, somewhere damp and rustic-feeling. The floor was bare concrete, bare lightbulb hanging overhead. No windows. A drain in the center of the floor.