Brianna (Shadow Wolves MC Book 2)

by Daniela Jackson

  Five hours later, I step onto dry land and jump on Zane’s bike. Joy pervades my whole being. Freedom is beautiful. I wish I could share it with Zane though.

  I check in to a cheap hotel by the motorway, take a shower then have a meal. Passing a small shop by the cafe, I decide to buy some clothes then return to my room and fall onto the mattress. Numbness spreads inside me and pins me down.

  I have everything I wanted to have—freedom, normalcy, and safety. Why is there sadness in me then? It spreads in my chest and invades my veins like a harsh winter, biting, piercing. Killing me.

  My jaws clench. I’m going to stick to my plan.

  Chapter 4

  Zane

  She’s stolen my bike. My own wife has stolen my bike.

  I don’t know whether it makes me more angry or more amused. The lack of the information whether she is safe or not definitely pisses me off to the point where I want to find her and do horrible things to her. Like driving my cock into her mouth so deep that she’ll choke on it. Or fucking her from behind so hard that she’ll scream. Yeah, as soon as I find her I will fuck her so rough that she won’t be able to move for a week.

  Heat rushes to my dick and I have to remind myself that now, I need a new bike.

  My old bike, Rita, has been with me since I turned nineteen. We’ve been faithful to each other. No girl has ever been allowed to sit on Rita. Only my wife has this privilege. Right. I hope Rita serves Brianna well.

  Axel and I are sauntering among the bikes standing in front of the shop. I raise my head and the sun’s rays flood my eyes, almost causing me pain. A delicate breeze drifts through the heat of the early afternoon.

  “You and Sive okay?” I ask as my eyes roam over the same model my wife stole from me.

  Axel grins and pats the front of his cut. “I can take care of my woman.”

  “Can she even move now?” I ask with sarcasm.

  “No and that’s the whole fucking purpose of my care over her.”

  We watch the bike and nod at each other. The shop assistant gestures for me to go inside of the shop and finalise the transaction. I pay, shove the receipt into the back pocket of my jeans then join Axel outside.

  It’s been three weeks since Brianna disappeared. I’ve checked every morgue in the area. Chills go down my spine at the memory of all the female bodies I saw there.

  I’ve checked all the hospitals in the area, all the bars, hotels and whorehouses. No trace of Brianna left.

  I jump on my new bike and test it for a few minutes then we race to Axel’s place. For a moment, a sense of freedom and joy fills my veins. I feel myself again, crave more speed and more adrenaline. My bike and I are as perfect oneness. Then the reality hits me hard. My wife is God-knows-where and I have to find her before something bad happens to her.

  I reduce speed at the sight of the garage and my brother waves his hand, clearly disappointed that the race’s been an easy win for him.

  As we enter the house that once belonged only to me and my brother, my eyes sweep over a form lying on the couch in the living area. That little mermaid kicked me out of my house but everything is as it should be.

  Sive raises her head and her sleepy eyes slide over me, her blind eye twitching. She looks exhausted. I guess my brother fucks her like an animal at least three times a day. What can I say? Sive chose him.

  Axel leans over her and wraps the blanket tightly around her, scooping her up in his arms. She curls into his chest and closes her eyes. A fragile hummingbird in an eagle’s embrace. Except Sive is not weak. She’s strong enough to love the monster inside my brother unconditionally.

  “We need more rest, huh?” Axel says softly.

  “A-xel,” Sive hums.

  Tears prick my eyes. Fuck. I’m aging or what?

  No—

  I’m so fucking grateful to the mysterious force or whatever else it was for bringing Sive to Axel. She makes my brother happy. She makes all my family happy.

  My brother carries her upstairs and returns after two minutes.

  “She looks happy, doesn’t she?” he asks with tension on his face.

  “She looks tired, Axel.”

  “You think so?”

  “Let her sleep at night. Man, she’s not going to escape from you.”

  “This is just prevention. She can’t move, she can’t escape. It’s that simple.”

  “She is happy, Axel. Really happy. No prevention necessary. Capito?”

  Axel nods at me, takes four cans of beer out of the fridge in the open plan kitchen and slams them on the kitchen table. I cross the living area and drop into the chair.

  “I wanted to ask her about our wedding,” Axel says. “To do the things properly, ya know. But maybe it’s too early. What do you think?”

  I’m surprised.

  No—

  I’m so fucking stunned that there is an awkward silence for a long moment.

  “Are you asking me for advice, Axel? Me? Since when?”

  “You’re no expert on successful weddings, but maybe you can advise me something.”

  “Marry her as soon as possible. It’s important to her.”

  “How do you know that, you pundit?”

  “I lived with her under one roof for two months, remember?”

  Axel nods at me.

  “She wants a catholic ceremony,” I say.

  “Right. How do you organise that catholic ceremony?”

  “Go to the priest and book it. Then send the invitations to all the guests.”

  “Send the fuck what? I will tell everybody, that’s all.” He grabs his head in both his hands. “Can you help me with all that shit?”

  “I’m looking for my wife, remember?”

  “You have no wife, Zane. That bitch—“

  “I have a wife. Capito? And I have to find her.”

  Axel raises his hands in a warding gesture. “Your life. Your circus.” He opens a can and attempts to pass it on to me.

  “No, thanks. I’m going for a ride later.” To check whether my wife hasn’t decided to allow me to be her husband.

  “Eat something first.” Axel opens the fridge and takes out a plate covered with aluminium foil.

  He reheats the food for me as I check my phone. Samael texted me two minutes ago that he’d found a good private investigator. But no sooner will he start looking for Brianna than in four-five weeks. Or even later. I guess I will have to explore other options first.

  I expected Samael to be really pissed off with Brianna’s disappearance, but he just seems to be very worried. This worry furrowing his brows and shadowing his glance contradicts everything I know about this man. He sold his daughter, yet she’s dear to him. Totally fucked up.

  Axel puts the food on the table. I wolf it down, say my goodbyes and jump on my bike to search for my wife.

  Four weeks later, Axel calls me and we sit in our office in ‘Jilly Jet’, only him and me. The boys are at the bar.

  “What’s the problem, Prez?” I ask.

  Axel puts his forearms on the table. “Sive has been moody for a week or so. Very moody. Man, like very moody.”

  Well, it’s not the right place to talk about it. It’s our meeting place, our ‘church’-only the club stuff allowed. But Axel is the president here so I don’t interrupt him.

  He inhales deeply. “I thought that I’d fucked up something again. But two days ago, she started throwing up in the morning, ya know. She was really sick yesterday.”

  I nod at him, my face stiff even though I barely control myself not to erupt into laughter. “It will be like six-seven weeks?”

  “Yeah, six-seven weeks.” He threads his fingers through his hair.

  Sive must have bought him a hairbrush or something because he looks very tidy. His t-shirts are regularly ironed too.

  “Did she have a scan?” I ask.

  “Not yet. We’re going for a scan in two weeks.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “What?” Axel’s jaw drops.


  “I want to make sure that my nephew or niece is fine.”

  This has always been my responsibility to make sure that my weird family is fine. Over the years, I’ve had more failures than successes though. My biggest failures were my parents’ divorce and Sive’s tragedy.

  “There will be a queue,” Axel says. “When Ma finds out, she’ll be crazy.”

  “We’ll squeeze in the scan room.”

  Axel chuckles then his mind wanders off to somewhere far from here. His fingers roll into fists.

  “Sive is scared, ya know,” he says. “She’s scared that something like before can happen again.”

  “Take care of her and everything will be fine.”

  “Is this your first order as the president of the club?”

  “What?” My jaw drops.

  Axel runs his palms over his head and entangles his fingers on the back of his neck. “All the boys have agreed. I need to be with Sive now and I thought—“

  “This is against the rules. You’re not dead. Neither are you unfit in any way.”

  “We democratically changed the rules. Dad always says that we love democracy.”

  Pride wells up in my chest. My older brother thinks that I’m capable of being a good president. He could have given back this position to Dad, but he chose me instead.

  “I’m tired, Zane. I want to live my little life with Sive, run the garage and look after our kids. Dad and I agreed that you were fit for this position. I will help you whenever you need me.”

  I rise to my feet and slap his arm. “Go and look after your woman.”

  We shake hands. Axel leaves the office and the boys pour inside. Everybody pats my shoulder as feverish thoughts fill my head.

  Axel is out of the picture so I need to appoint a vice.

  “Sit down, you all,” I growl.

  The boys spread then take their seats as I drop into the president’s chair.

  “The club needs a new vice,” I say.

  “Aye,” they say with one voice.

  Dad grins at me and nods his head several times.

  “Gunner will take this position,” I continue.

  The boys bang their fists against the table, rumbling, “Aye.”

  Gunner’s long body waves as he sniffles and wipes the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes away with the back of his hand.

  He’s not a pussy. He can kill with cold blood when necessary. He would die for me or each of the boys, but sometimes reacts too emotionally, that’s all.

  Once, Gunner and I were in a really shitty situation. Two gangsters with knives and guns kind of situation. Gunner took the bullet instead of me. I owe him my life.

  “Now, get your lazy asses out of the office,” I say. “The meeting is over.” I fix my eyes on Gunner. “You stay. I need a word with you.”

  Gunner salutes me. “Yes, Prez.”

  Blaze raises his hand. “The tattoo—“

  “Later,” I say.

  “Yes, Prez,” Blaze says and walks off.

  Gunner and I sit next to each other and he nods at me. “Anything I can do for you, Prez?”

  “I need you here, Gunner, when I’m away. Understood? When I’m absent it will be as though you’re the president.”

  Gunner’s face does not betray any emotions, but I know he feels honoured with my trust in him.

  “When I see Brianna, I’ll catch her for you and keep her in my basement,” Gunner says in a serious voice.

  An image of the mice family living in his basement flashes through my head. We’ve tried to move them somewhere else a few times but they always return. I guess they love Gunner as much as he loves them. He feeds them and plays with them. Looks after them like they are proper pets not pests.

  “Yeah, definitely do so,” I say.

  I imagine Brianna thrown into Gunner’s basement and his mice nibbling on her toes. A sense of contentment wafts through me at that thought.

  “When I’m away,” I continue, “you make sure that Sive and Axel are okay. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  I know he’ll guard my brother and his woman day and night. This is how Gunner is.

  When my wife is back and our life is stable, I’ll take him to the strip club and pay a girl to entertain him. The strippers always wince at the sight of Gunner, but the moment they get three times more money than normally they are eager to give him some fun.

  It’s really sad and unfair. Gunner can slit a man’s throat in one precise motion, but he’s gentle and caring to every girl he meets. All of them are repulsed by his ugliness though.

  He is my age, but has never had an unpaid girl in his bed. He isn’t thrilled to accommodate his needs in strip clubs and whorehouses, but every man needs a wet pussy from time to time. And so does Gunner.

  “How are your mice?” I ask.

  “There are four more of them.” Gunner guffaws. “But the house is big, ya know. Too big for a single guy so they can live with me. I’ve built a nice little house for them so they won’t ruin mine.”

  I nod at him and slap him on the back. “Get your ass out of here. Have a drink with the boys.”

  “Yes, Prez.”

  Chapter 5

  Zane

  I park my bike, Talia, in front of the Broken Crusaders’ clubhouse. It perches on the hill, overlooking the green valley below. The sunset paints the sky with dramatic flares of orange and red colours as the whole world freezes in one eternal second—the transition between day and night. The trees around me look like they could move the moment I averted my eyes, like dark spectres steeling themselves to capture me and bury me deep in the woods so nobody can find me.

  I don’t like this place; the Shadow Wolves and the Broken Crusaders have never been friends though four hundred miles are separating my club from theirs so there is the kind of peace between us.

  A tall guy, whose appearance creates an image of a superfast zombie in my head, holds his hand out to take my gun. His name is Grim.

  “The gun stays on me,” I say as I move closer to him, squeezing myself between two bikes. “No need for being nervous. I just want to talk business.”

  Another man pops out of the three-storey wooden building surrounded by four static caravans. The music and the shouts from inside hit my ears before he slams the door shut.

  “Long time no see,” he says and strokes his silver beard. His name is Tank, and he is the president here.

  I visited this place seven years ago with Dad and Axel so I know him and his club.

  “Long time no see,” I say.

  “I heard Boulder had abdicated,” Tank says and grins. “Then Axel abdicated and the throne now belongs to you, Zane?” Sarcasm coats his voice.

  Heat rushes to my face. “That’s correct. I’m the president now. For a week.”

  “Axel was the president like for a month?” Tank scratches his bald head.

  “Almost four months.”

  Tank nods at me several times.

  The Shadow Wolves are regarded as freaks in the outlaw world. What can I say? We are who we are.

  My grandfather was an eccentric. He came to settle in our little town four years after the World War 2 had ended. He loved bikes. A few veterans happened to love bikes too so he united them. My grandmother named the club. She was a true romantic indeed. The club enjoyed racing, drinking alcohol and stealing goods from others, romantic criminals one can tell. Women adored the members and bore their children.

  Tank moves closer to me and we shake hands.

  “Come in then,” he says.

  So I follow him inside. As I immerse myself into the devastated interior, the smell of tobacco and weed circles around me. The air of the moral decay is all-pervasive, mentally cold like the air hanging in a morgue.

  The sound of the bottles banging against hard surface travels in the air, diverting my attention towards the tables and couches. The club whores are laughing and squealing; the men are growling and cursing. A few couples are fucking in t
he corners of the bar, unconcerned that somebody may watch them. A stripper is gyrating around the pole stuck in a small round platform. Thin streaks of white dust stretch across some of the tables. Drugs probably.

  The Shadow Wolves don’t live like this. Boulder never wanted that. He respected his mother and his wife too much to lead the club towards the shit like this.

  We love vodka, beautiful women and having fun. We don’t use drugs—Boulder was very clear on that. He excluded two guys from our club for the drug abuse.

  “On the right, Your Highness,” Tank says and gestures for me to take an arched passage.

  I move along the burgundy bricked wall and we step into a square room.

  Tank points his finger to a chair at the oak round table dominating the interior. Empty bottles of vodka and cans of beer are strewn all around and the posters of naked women decorate the walls.

  Tank drops into the president’s chair. “I’m all ears.” He stretches out his legs and slams his boots on the table.

  I reach back to the pocket of my jeans and take out my wedding photo, passing it on to him. “I want you to look for this woman. For good money, of course.”

  Tank flicks his eyes over the photo. “Your main bitch?”

  “My wife,” I say through gritted teeth.

  We don’t call our women like this. We don’t brand them because they are not our possessions.

  Sive asked Blaze to tattoo Axel’s name on her shoulder blade, but this was her decision. She was very excited about it but Axel not so much. In fact, he was furious when she showed him the tattoo.

  My brother wants Sive to be as innocent as a saint and tattoos are not innocent in his opinion. It’s weird, but his erotic fantasies are none of my business. Not to mention that this hypocrite asked Blaze to tattoo Sive’s name on his arm and on his chest.

  I wouldn’t mind if Brianna asked Blaze to mark her as mine. It would make her belong to me. The dark part of me wants to possess her and it will the moment I find her.

  Anyway, we don’t regard ourselves as being soft or something. We are proud of who we are.

  I sometimes have to kill, but it’s always to protect my way of life or my family, not for fun.