F*CKERS (Biker MC Romance Book 7)

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F*CKERS (Biker MC Romance Book 7) Page 39

by Scott Hildreth


  “Peeb?”

  “Yeah, Brother?”

  “No kuttes.”

  “Come again?”

  The club required us to wear kuttes if we were riding, but I didn’t want anyone to be able to identify the MC. Retaliation for what we were doing would be swift if anyone found out who we were.

  I glanced into the room. “No kuttes,” I said. “No exceptions. Tell the fellas. If they don’t want to come, I understand. And, another thing. I’m gonna need you to toss some of Tegan’s clothes in your saddle bags.”

  “Like what?”

  I tried to respond, and almost broke down. After prying my eyes away from the room, I gazed down at the floor and struggled to speak.

  “Anything, Brother. I just…I uhhm…”

  I knew saying too much on the phone wasn’t a good idea, but I wasn’t satisfied that I’d said enough. Regardless of my desire to continue, doing so wasn’t easy. “It’s a uhhm. Bring some…bring enough clothes to get…to dress eight teenagers,” I muttered. “It’s…I uhhm. They’re all naked, Peeb…I uhhm…I just need some help, Brother.”

  I couldn’t say any more. I wanted to, but I simply couldn’t. The lump in my throat wouldn’t let me.

  “Hold tight, Brother. Be there in ten.” he said.

  All the men in the MC were my brothers, but there was only one who I knew I could count on with no exception, and without question.

  Our Sergeant-at-arms, Pee Bee.

  I hung up the phone, stepped into the room, and lowered myself to the floor. I glanced at each of the girls, half of which appeared to be Hispanic.

  “Habla Ingles?” I asked.

  Eight heads nodded.

  Undoubtedly scared, but optimistic that whatever was next would be better than their current situation, they looked back at me with eyes filled with hope. I fought against a tear that tried to wedge its way out of my eye, but didn’t succeed.

  “In a moment, you’ll hear a terrible thunder.” I opened my arms and widened my eyes. “But don’t be afraid. The men who come with the thunder? They’re angels.”

  Although many would argue that statement to be false, I knew better.

  And, I was pretty sure in ten minutes, the eight girls in front of me would agree.

  We rode two abreast and six deep to the shop. After we rolled into the open garage, the president of the club pulled the door closed behind us.

  He looked at me and then at Pee Bee. His eyes thinned to slits. “What in the fuck have we here?”

  Crip was a stern man, a solid president, and one tough son-of-a-bitch. But, he was a no-nonsense motherfucker if there ever was one.

  I flipped the switch and killed the engine. “It’s on me, Boss.”

  He shifted his eyes from Pee Bee to me. “What the fuck’s going on? I got some half-assed message from Peeb that said you’re bringing half-a-dozen teenagers to the shop. I’m not looking to start a God damned day care or some biker babysitting ranch.”

  “Calle 18 had them locked in a dope house, Boss. They’d all been kidnapped. It wasn’t pretty.” I lifted my leg over my bike. “We saved ‘em.”

  Alexandra got off and stepped to my side. Crip looked at her, and then scanned the group. After taking a few seconds to ponder what he was seeing, his eyes fell to the floor and he let out a long sigh.

  “God fucking damn.” He looked up. “Calle 18?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  “Of all the motherfuckers to get into it with…” He crossed his arms and glared at me. “Any reason I didn’t know about this?”

  I tilted my head toward Alexandra. “She came up missing a few days back, and her mom came to me and asked if I could find her. After nosing around a bit, I found out who took her. Just went to get her back, and this is what it turned into.”

  He glared at me and then waved his arms toward the long line of motorcycles. “So, this wasn’t your plan?”

  I shook my head. “Not at all. Had no idea the other girls were there. Thought it was just her.”

  As the men got off their bikes and helped the girls to their feet, Crip watched. After seeing all there was to see, he turned to face me. His eyes were filled with anger, but I knew it wasn’t directed at me.

  “Need I even ask about the Latino gang you took them from?” he growled.

  I shrugged. “You can ask if you want.”

  He raised both eyebrows. “I’m fucking asking.”

  “Went to the house to see if Alexandra was there, and when I got there I heard a bunch of gunshots, and someone ran past me into the street. White dude with shaved head and a swastika tattooed on his neck. I rushed in and found four of Calle 18’s men dead on the floor. I searched the house, and when I opened the door to the back room, I found these girls. Called the SAA, and him and a few of the fellas showed up to help me get ‘em out of there.”

  He rocked back on the balls of his feet and chuckled out a laugh. “Some kid with a swastika?”

  I knew better than to tell him the truth in front of the girls. The less they knew about what really happened, the better. To protect the club, myself, and the girls, I stuck to my bullshit story.

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  He looked at Alexandra.

  She shrugged.

  He locked eyes with me. “And this swastika guy, he killed the entire household?”

  “Yep.”

  He shook his head. “Fucking fuck. Nastiest bunch of fucking gangbangers in existence, and it just had to be them?”

  “Suppose it could have been worse,” I said.

  “I don’t know how.” He looked down at the floor for a moment, and then looked up. “We need to get these girls to their families, but they’re not coming here to get them. I can’t expose the club or my men.”

  I hadn’t really thought about how we were going to get them to their families without questions being asked.

  Crip looked at his watch. “It’s almost four. Get them something to drink, and get them fed. There’s shit in the fridge, make ‘em a sandwich or something. I’ll go rent a fucking van, and you can load ‘em up when I get back. Far as I’m concerned, you can drop ‘em off yourself. Best I can think of. Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said. “Appreciate ya.”

  He shook his head and then turned toward Pee Bee. “Where’s your kutte?”

  Pee Bee patted his chest and then looked down. He quickly glanced up as if shocked. “Fuck, Boss. I must have forgot it.”

  He looked at Lefty. “What about you?”

  Lefty shrugged. “Gang members were pimping out teenage girls, Boss. Took off in a hurry, must have left the fucker hanging there at my place.”

  He looked at Smokey.

  “Mine’s safe and sound at home, Crip,” Smokey said. “Just protecting the fuckin’ club.”

  Crip looked at Pee Bee and then at me. “I’m fining each of you $100 for this. You know the rules.”

  There were ten of us, total. “I’ll pay the grand,” I said.

  “Twelve hundred,” he growled. “There’s twelve of you.”

  I shrugged. “Okay.”

  “And, you better get their heads together and make up some kind of story about where they’ve been, and how they got rescued. If you don’t, it’ll come back to haunt you. I guarantee you at least one of these girl’s parents talked to the cops. At some point, there’s going to be questions asked.”

  In all the commotion, I hadn’t even thought of it. He was right, there would be questions asked, and they’d need to be prepared to answer them without exposing the MC. “I’ll come up with something.”

  “Keep it simple,” he said. “It’ll be easier to remember.”

  I nodded. “Will do.”

  He glared at me for a moment, and then walked toward his bike. As he got on, I noticed he wasn’t wearing the MC’s kutte, only a plain leather vest. It was the first time I’d seen him without it.

  I looked at Pee Bee and chuckled. “You notice that?” />
  Pee Bee nodded. “Told him to lose it. Don’t need anyone pointing fingers at the club.”

  As Crip fired up his bike, Alexandra cleared her throat.

  “He’s a dick,” she whispered.

  I couldn’t argue with her. He was a dick. But he was a dick for a reason. “Yeah. He can be,” I said. “But he’s got his reasons.”

  I turned around and faced the group. Eleven of my brothers stood beside their bikes, and seven girls who ranged in age from nine to twenty-one were at their sides. What had happened over the course of the night was staggering when I thought about it.

  Pee Bee slid the door open, and after Crip rode through it, he pulled it closed.

  I crossed my arms and glanced around the group. “He’s going to get a van, and then I’ll get you all taken home. Your parents can take you to the hospital, or wherever you need to go. Probably be about an hour before we head out. Bathroom’s back there, and there’s food in the fridge.”

  I tried to imagine what the girls had been through, but for the life of me, couldn’t come up with anything that I felt could compare to what they’d experienced. As a few of the men led the girls toward the bathroom or the refrigerator, Alexandra looked at mem but didn’t speak. Her eyes couldn’t hide her desire to speak, though.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah?”

  “I don’t want to go home,” she said. “Not yet.”

  “It’ll be an hour or so. You okay?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll be okay, but I don’t want to go home.”

  Other than having dirty hair, countless bruises, and scrubs that didn’t fit, she looked remarkably normal. It was hard for me to believe she’d been in the position she was in and somehow found a way to maintain anything close to sanity.

  She must have been one tough little bitch.

  “Where do you want to go?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “With you?”

  I shook my head. “After I take everyone home, I’m going for a long ride. Need to clear my head.”

  “You need to clear your head?” She tossed her leg over my seat and grinned. “So do I. A lot more than you, I’m sure.”

  After going through what she did, if she felt a ride would clear her head, who was I to argue?

  “You sure you don’t need--”

  “I need another ride on this motorcycle,” she said. “It’s hard to explain, but it makes me feel--”

  “No need to explain,” I said. “I know exactly what you’re trying to say.”

  Her eyes lit up. “So, you’ll take me for a ride?”

  I nodded. “As long of one as it takes.”

  “Be careful what you promise,” she said.

  I wasn’t worried. She’d get sick of riding long before I did, that much I was sure of.

  Chapter Four

  Lex

  Seeing the girls walk away wasn’t easy for either of us. For him, there were too many questions he simply couldn’t answer, and I could see that it frustrated him. For me, watching the them leave was difficult and emotionally exhausting. In the end, having them reunited with their families was very rewarding, yet I found it to be a slightly troubling experience.

  I felt like I was losing members of my family.

  Sisters I’d never see again.

  We dropped off Marbella, and I could see the end of our time together approaching. I produced all the excuses I could summon in support of why I didn’t want to go home, but none of them seemed to work. After a little pleading – begging was more like it – he offered to let me take a shower at his house. Appreciative of not only what he’d done, but of the character he seemed to possess, I sat at his kitchen table and studied him.

  He was big, muscular, rough-looking, and covered in tattoos. Most women would simply thank him and leave, but for whatever reason, I needed him to remain close to me for a little bit longer.

  I was normally attracted to men like him, but it wasn’t his physical characteristics that lured me. After a few moments, I decided it was his compassionate nature that I found attractive.

  After spending a lifetime convinced heroes only existed in books and movies, having real-life one sit in front of me left me a little star struck.

  I rested my cheek against my hand and cocked my head to the side. “How old are you?”

  The words came out before I could stop them. Obviously, I was more than just a little star struck. I decided it was fine. I wanted to know his age anyway.

  Halfway through a sip of his coffee, he lowered the cup and looked at me. “Thirty-one.”

  I nodded.

  The corner of his mouth curled up. “Why?”

  Despite his rough exterior, he was actually kind of cute. I grinned. “Just wondering.”

  He returned a nervous look and lifted his cup. “You ready to go when we’re done with these?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “You need to get home,” he said. “Hell, you didn’t even let me call your mom and say you’re alright.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not ready yet.”

  He leaned forward and rested his tattooed forearms on the edge of the table. “Listen. You’re probably in shock. You need to go home, go to the hospital and get checked out, and then get some rest. We need to finish this coffee and go.”

  “You said you’d let me ride for as long as it took to clear my head.” I arched an eyebrow. “It took forever to get everyone dropped off, and we basically rode from your clubhouse to here. I just wanted to get cleaned up. Now I’m ready.”

  His brow wrinkled. “Listen. I’m not even going to act like I can imagine what you’ve been through, but I know you can’t just act like it didn’t happen. The club’s President? The guy you said was a dick? His mom works at a place that--”

  “I’ll be fine. Really,” I said.

  He leaned back and let out a sigh. “When you get home, you’re really going to need--”

  “Home? Right now, I don’t have a home. When those assholes…” I took a deep breath and then sighed. “When I was at the 7-Eleven I was on my way to ask my mother if I could move in with her for a while. The guy I was living with smacked me for the last time, and I left after he went to work. All my shit’s in my car. Or, at least it was.”

  “God damn.” He pushed his cup aside and shook his head. “You can’t catch a break.”

  “A break?” I coughed out a laugh and struggled to keep from spitting coffee on him in the process. “I don’t need a break. Life throws us good days and bad days. Accepting the bad days as being part of life’s cycle allows me to appreciate the good ones that much more.”

  “Hell of an attitude to have,” he said with a nod.

  “Listen,” I said. “When we were on our way out of that shit-hole, it sure didn’t look to me like that prick with the tattoos on his face was going to hurt anyone else. He got what he had coming. That’s todays break, I guess.”

  He nodded and looked away.

  I took a sip of coffee. “Guy with a swastika, huh?”

  “Yeah,” he said without looking at me.

  I chuckled. “Okay.”

  He looked at me. “So, what are we gonna do?”

  “You ready to take me for that ride?”

  He sighed and shifted his eyes toward the kitchen.

  I finished my coffee and then shook my head. “Look, mister. You can think whatever you want, but they didn’t destroy me. I didn’t let them. I won’t give anyone that satisfaction. I’m just some girl who had an asshole for a boyfriend, and was at the right 7-ELEVEN at the wrong fucking time. It’s over, and regardless of whether you want to take credit for it or not, I have you to thank for it. I don’t want anything from you but to use your motorcycle to clear my head.”

  He met my gaze.

  “So, thank you,” I said. “Now. What about that ride?”

  “After everything you’ve been through, I don’t know if taking you for a ride is a good idea. You need to go to your mom’s house and--”

  I s
hot him a shitty glare. “I want a ride on your bike, not your cock.”

  “You’ve got quite a mouth for a little girl,” he mumbled.

  Little girl?

  His words ground against the grain of my being like fingernails on the chalkboard of life.

  I folded my arms across my chest and sharpened my glare. “Little girl? I’ll be twenty-one in two weeks, and I’ve lived through more shit than most women will endure in ten fucking lifetimes. I’ve been shitting in a bucket that I had to share with seven other girls for the last week, sleeping on a piss covered floor, and the only food I’ve had is a handful of granola bars and this cup of god damned coffee. Have you heard me complain once?”

  He stared at me with wide eyes.

  “Even fucking once?” I snarled.

  His tugged at the bill of his hat, but didn’t respond.

  “Well,” I snapped. “Have you?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “That’s because I’m not a little girl. And, I’m perfectly fucking capable of making my own decisions.” I stood up and shot him a sideways look. “Remember that.”

  “Alright, then,” he breathed. “You ready to take that ride?”

  We rode for the entire morning, and I found it to be so much more than a means of transportation. It was therapeutic.

  Refreshing.

  Cleansing.

  We didn’t really talk during the ride. My mind drifted to thoughts of freedom, flying, and what it was like to be an eagle. The experience was the polar opposite of what I had been exposed to during my abduction.

  When we were finally done, he pulled into my mother’s driveway. I released my grip from his waist and mentally prepared to get off the motorcycle, even though I didn’t really want to.

  The front door swung open, and my mother screeched. I lifted my leg over the seat and fumbled to get my footing. As she ran down the driveway toward us, my savior and I exchanged a quick look.

  Nothing was said, but I don’t know that anything needed to be. Our eyes simply locked for an instant, and then he broke my gaze.

  His rough exterior could do nothing to completely hide his caring inner self.

  And, it was at that instant, when our eyes met for only a split-second, that I decided I wanted to know more about the man who slayed my monsters in his spare time.

 

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