Biker's Claim: A Bad Boy Romance (Demons MC) (Contains bonus book Cocked!)

by Hamel, B. B.

  “Can’t hurt, being careful.”

  “Listen, I need to sleep. You okay watching over the house for a few hours?”

  “Sure thing. You tell them yet?”

  I frowned. “I told Lacey.”

  “Your sister?”

  “Stepsister.”

  “Whatever. How’d she take it?”

  “About how I expected.”

  “So she thinks that you’re a lying piece of shit.”

  “Pretty much.”

  He laughed. “You must be pretty used to that by now, though.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “It’s cool, man. We’ll make it work.”

  He grabbed his gun from the dresser and slipped it into his waistband. Without another word, he walked out of the room and was gone.

  I stared at the doorway for a minute, exhaustion overwhelming me. I’d barely slept for more than a few hours since our close-as-fuck escape from Mexico. Our handlers basically hadn’t done shit, and it seemed like they had no intentions of helping us out. Even with innocent civilians in danger, they were nowhere to be seen.

  They probably told themselves that they were avoiding an international incident. Basically, it was really just some bullshit excuse to get rid of some low-life criminals. But I wasn’t easily gotten rid of, and neither was Trip.

  I lay back against the pillows and let my mind drift. I found myself remembering the night, years ago, when I decided that I couldn’t be with Lacey anymore.

  It was the day before I disappeared. I had just found out from a friend about the Bloods and the stolen cars, and it had fully sunk in that I was either dead or I was gone.

  I chose gone, as badly as that hurt. And I chose to break the heart of the one person that really gave a shit about me only a couple of months after I had finally given in to how I really felt.

  We knew our parents were dating at the time, but we didn’t care. At least I didn’t. I’d been desperate for her for years, even though I was too cool to do anything about it. I was too busy getting high and stealing cars, right up until the end.

  I just couldn’t see Lacey for what she really was. Every day in Mexico I missed her smile and the way she laughed at my jokes. I missed the way she touched my arm and the way she frowned when she was angry.

  And I missed the way she tasted. I missed her firm ass, her nice tits, and her sweet fucking pussy. Shit, that day in the bookstore was incredible, and even more amazing for the fact that she’d refused to actually sleep with me.

  I smiled to myself softly. We did other stuff, plenty of other amazing shit, but she wanted to wait until we had graduated high school. I never understood that. I’d never been the type to wait.

  But that was one of my biggest regrets. Not getting her pussy while I really had the chance.

  Now, things were too fucked. We’d be lucky if we lived through the week.

  I felt myself spiraling into sleep and embraced it. A few hours of oblivion would be nice before I tore my family to shreds.

  I woke up with a start. It felt like no time at all had passed, and I was still wearing all my clothes. A quick glance at the clock said it was around four in the afternoon, which was surprising.

  It was the first time since leaving Mexico that I had slept for more than a couple of hours at one time.

  I rolled out of bed, yawned, checked my phone for messages from Trip, and then showered. It felt good to let the hot water rinse the grime from my face and my body.

  The memory of our escape from Mexico came flooding back. The old man knocking on my door and telling me that I needed to get out. No other information, nothing. He just walked away. I still didn’t know why he did it.

  I didn’t hesitate. If I had, I would’ve been dead, and my whole family would’ve been slaughtered as a message to the whole cartel: don’t fuck with El Tiburon.

  There was no time. I threw some clothes into a bag, grabbed my piece, grabbed my doctored passports, and got into the car. My only stop was to pick up Trip, but other than that we basically drove straight across the border and up to Hammond in a couple of days.

  I still had no clue what happened. I had no clue how my cover got blown. I know I didn’t make any mistakes, I was more than careful. El Tiburon liked me, gave me the good jobs, and there was even talk that I was getting promoted.

  Then suddenly, without warning, I was on the run.

  It wasn’t like I wanted Castillo to like me. But in order to achieve my mission and have my slate wiped clean, I had to get close to him. My handlers insisted that they have a man on the inside as close to the top as possible before making their move. They couldn’t risk things going south, or else there would be political repercussions. After all, the United States doesn’t officially meddle in another country’s affairs like that.

  My fucking handlers. The same men that abandoned Trip and me when we needed them most.

  After the shower, I shaved and put on some clean clothes. I slipped the gun into my waistband and headed out, figuring I could relieve Trip for a few hours.

  I got lucky and caught the bus out toward my mom’s house with only a few minutes of waiting. I watched as the old familiar streets and houses passed by, and I wondered at all the new additions.

  That was how it happened. Things changed gradually in a town, and if you lived among those changes, you barely even registered them. But if you left a place and came back years later, those changes seemed sudden and jarring, and you couldn’t help but take note of it.

  Hammond felt the same and different. I didn’t try to get used to it, since I knew we’d be leaving soon, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

  What had happened to the world since I left?

  The bus pulled over and I climbed out. I leaned against the side of the bus stop, looking around the area.

  Trip should have been pretty easy to spot. We had scouted out the house and the area yesterday and agreed on a few watch points, but I couldn’t see him standing at any of the agreed on places.

  I took a quick walk around the perimeter, figuring maybe he had just gone for a short hike to stretch his legs, but Trip wasn’t anywhere. I’d worked countless jobs with him and never once had he left his post for any reasons. He’d been one of the most reliable guys I knew.

  Something clenched in my stomach. It was the same feeling I got whenever something bad was about to happen, like my animal instincts kicked in and knew something about the world that my normal human mind hadn’t figured out yet. That feeling had gotten me out of a lot of situations, and I had learned to trust it.

  I moved quickly and silently, keeping as hidden as I could, toward my Mom’s house. I crouched down behind some bushes across the street and watched the house for a minute.

  There was no movement near the windows that I could make out. It seemed quiet, like a normal suburban house during the day. Then again, my Mom’s car was in the driveway and Jeff’s motorcycle was in the street, which meant they were both home early from work. The phrase “quiet, too quiet” rang through my head, and although I knew it was a cliché, I also knew there was some truth to it.

  I moved closer to the house, keeping low. As I got nearer, my heart sank as I noticed the front door.

  It was left slightly ajar. Not by much, but it looked like someone had pulled it shut behind them in a hurry and hadn’t made sure it had caught.

  I stared at it, wracking my brain, trying to remember if that was a common problem or not. I couldn’t remember a single time that it had happened to me in all the times I had been in and out of that house. Then again, it wasn’t my childhood home, so I wasn’t sure if that was normal or not.

  I pulled the gun from my pants and flicked off the safety. I slipped a silencer from my pocket and slowly twisted it into place. Our handlers did one thing right, I thought ruefully. At least they fucking armed us well.

  I crept up the driveway, keeping low behind the car, and slipped along the wall toward the front door. I stopped just outside of it, straining to he
ar something.

  There were voices inside, but not nearby. I guessed they were toward the back of the house, in the living room. I couldn’t make out any words, but they were hushed and insistent.

  My heart thudding rough in my chest, I pushed open the front door and stepped inside, moving silently.

  There was nobody in the front hall or within my sightline. I pushed the door closed behind me but left it slightly ajar again, making sure it made no noise to tip them off.

  Where the fuck is Trip? I wondered. I needed some backup, especially considering I didn’t know what I was walking into. There was no way this should be happening, not with him watching the place.

  And yet, as I got farther into the house, creeping along the hall, the voices became more distinct.

  My mother was crying softly. Jeff kept saying something, over and over, and it sounded like he was trying to be reassuring.

  And above all of that, most important of all, were two male voices, both speaking Spanish.

  “Where the fuck is he?” the one man said.

  “He’ll be back.”

  “That fucker better be right.”

  “He’ll come. He can’t stay away.”

  I slowly, agonizingly slowly, looked around the corner and cringed at what I saw.

  Jeff and my mom were sitting on the couch. Their hands were bound in front of them with duct tape. My mom was crying softly, and Jeff was doing his best to keep her calm, speaking quietly into her ear.

  Standing in front of them, one looking at his phone and the other looking out the back window, were two Mexicans. I recognized both of them: muscle for El Tiburon. They weren’t particularly high up in the organization, and were definitely nowhere near my level, but two of them were a problem.

  I took a deep breath and moved across the hall, getting into the kitchen. I needed a better angle on them if I was going to take them out without hurting Jeff and my mom. I waited for a minute as the one started talking on the phone, probably reporting back to the cartel. They didn’t seem to hear me, so I crept forward, crouched low behind the counters.

  I slowly raised myself, gun held forward, hands braced on the countertop. I had a clear angle on the guy with the phone. Juan, I remembered suddenly as I lined up the shot. He was ten feet away, an easy distance for me. But I needed to be fast if I was going to get them both.

  Just as I was about to squeeze the trigger, my mom looked up at me.

  Her eyes were shocked. Jeff followed her gaze and looked equally surprised.

  I fired, the bullet piercing Juan’s temple. He crumpled to the ground without another word, blood spraying onto the wall behind him.

  The other guy moved fast. I lined up my next shot and fired, the gun jumping in my hand as the bullet exploded toward him. I missed my mark and hit him in the shoulder, spinning him backward toward the sliding glass door. I fired twice more, missing both.

  “Mother fucker!” he yelled.

  “Drop the gun, asshole,” I called back in Spanish.

  He was suddenly firing back, the loud roar of his pistol filling the small space. I shot back, one bullet shattering the glass behind him. My mom and Jeff immediately dropped to the floor, my mom’s screams filling the short silences between gunshots.

  I dropped down into cover, cursing. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Having a fucking shootout in a suburban house was pretty much the perfect way to get us all caught and fucking murdered. If the cops got me, I was going to get shanked in prison, and my family was going to get lynched not long after.

  They couldn’t protect them from El Tiburon. Castillo had money and men everywhere. His reach was long and powerful. Only I could fix everything.

  I came up again, firing. The guy was using the couch as cover but was shooting wildly, barely aiming. He must have been in pain because his shots all went way wide of their mark. I carefully put two bullets into the couch, right near his face, forcing him back and down.

  And then three more shots rang out, and the shooting was finished.

  Standing near the broken back, glass sliding door was Trip, his gun smoking.

  “Clear,” he called out, coming into the room and sweeping the space.

  I stood and came out from behind my cover.

  “Where the fuck were you?” I yelled.

  “I was taking a piss. I swear I wasn’t gone for more than a few minutes.”

  I put the gun away, back into my waistband, and ran over to Jeff and my mom.

  “Camden?” Mom said, her eyes wild. “What’s happening?”

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  “We’re okay. Who are they?” Jeff asked, angry and terrified.

  “Listen, we have to get out of here. We don’t have much time.”

  “You just killed them,” Mom said softly.

  “They were going to kill us.”

  “We need to call the police,” Jeff cut in.

  “No police. If we call the cops, I’m going to prison and you’re all going to die.”

  They gaped at me, clearly at a loss, as I ripped the tape from their wrists.

  “What did you do?” Jeff asked.

  “Cam, we need to leave,” Trip said, looking out a window. “Curious neighbors are gathering.”

  “Mom, Jeff, I lied about what happened in Mexico,” I said, helping them up. “I got caught stealing and running scams, that part’s true, but I was caught by a drug cartel.”

  More lies. Lies on top of lies.

  “A drug cartel? Why?” Mom asked.

  “They recruited me. They wanted me to work for them.”

  “They’re Mexican drug dealers?” Jeff asked.

  “Me and this guy,” I said, nodding at Trip, “were both members of the cartel. But something happened and now we’re wanted men.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. Somebody tipped me off that the cartel planned on killing the two of us, and so we ran.”

  I hated lying. But what else could I do? I wasn’t allowed to tell them the truth, and the off chance that my handlers could help one day was worth keeping their secrets.

  “This is insane,” Mom whispered, her eyes wide.

  “I know. I’m so sorry I brought this down on you.”

  “We need the police,” Jeff said again.

  “Jeff, forget the fucking police. We need to run, and we need to run now.”

  “What about Lacey?”

  “We’ll get her on the way.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Alaska. We know some people there that can keep us safe for a while, at least until I can get in touch with my handlers and get this shit figured out.”

  “We can’t leave here,” Mom said. “This is our home. This is insane.”

  Trip walked over. “I’m sorry, folks. But what he’s saying is the gospel truth. We need to go right this second. There are two people out there on phones, and I’m guessing they’re calling the cops.”

  I looked at my mom, pleading. “You have to believe me, Mom. I would never have done any of this if I had any other choice. You have to trust me.”

  She stared at me quietly for a second, took a deep breath, and seemed to gather herself.

  “Okay. I’ll go.”

  “What?” Jeff said. “No, Lynn. We’re waiting for the police.”

  I looked at Jeff. “My mom is coming. You can stay and get murdered if you want, but I’m also getting Lacey and getting the fuck out of here.”

  He clenched his jaw. “I always knew you were a low-life piece of shit.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But right now I’m your only ticket to a continued life.”

  He didn’t respond, and so I nodded at Trip. I walked over to Juan’s body and grabbed the phone from his hands, careful not to step in blood, and then led my mom out the back door. I snapped the phone and tossed it away. We crossed through the back fence, cut through the neighbor’s yard, and were out on the opposite street.

  Trip followed with Jeff,
both moving right behind us. My mind was swirling with possibilities.

  “Do you have cellphones?” I asked Mom.

  “Yes.” She looked at Jeff and he shook his head.

  “Smash it.”

  “Smash my phone?”

  “They can potentially track us.”

  She pulled it out of her pocket and held it out to me. I ripped out the battery and threw it away.

  “We need a car,” I said to Trip.

  “Around here.”

  I followed him down the street, made a right, and saw the black car up ahead.

  “Good thinking.”

  “Always be prepared,” he said, grinning.

  He unlocked the doors and I helped my mom climb in. She was white as a ghost, probably still in shock, but she wasn’t hyperventilating or screaming. Actually, she seemed like she had her shit together, or at least as much as was reasonable.

  Jeff, however, looked angry. I knew he was going to be a problem, and sooner rather than later. But I couldn’t deal with him, not yet. Trip climbed into the passenger’s seat and I got into the driver’s side.

  “We need to get my stepsister,” I said.

  Trip nodded. I started the car and pulled out.

  It was silent for the first part of the trip. I could sense the terror rising in the back seat. I wanted to yell at Trip, scream at him, beat his face until it was a bloody pulp. I wanted him to spit blood and teeth into my hands.

  But I needed him for the moment. The piece of shit had fucked up and put my family in a lot of danger, but he had also shown up when I needed him.

  As far as I knew, they’d never seen someone get killed before. I could only imagine what was going on inside their heads.

  “Cam,” Trip said softly, turning up the radio slightly. “We need to talk about this plan.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “They got to that house pretty fast, didn’t they?”

  I nodded. The same thing had occurred to me, though I wasn’t sure what it meant.

  “So what?”

  “So they’re not messing around.”

  “Juan was on the phone just before I shot him.”

  Trip raised an eyebrow. “With Mexico?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then they probably know we’re here.”