by Zoey Parker
“It’s clean,” Frankie called out, bounding down the stairs. I motioned to the man on the couch with my gun, which Frankie knew meant I wanted him frisked. I stared into the guy’s good eye, the one I hadn’t punched him in, while Frankie made sure he wasn’t armed.
“He’s clean,” Frankie said.
“Gun’s on the end table,” the Wolf said, like he was giving us tomorrow’s weather forecast. “You can take it. Whatever. I won’t be able to use it. I can’t aim for shit right now with one good eye.”
He was so relaxed, like none of this mattered. Was he waiting to die? I couldn’t understand the way any of these guys thought. Like they were resigned to whatever happened. They would do literally anything for their club. I never wanted my members to be that way. Loyalty was one thing, but not when taken to extremes.
“Wait outside with Axel,” I murmured to Frankie.
“You sure?” He looked skeptical.
“I’ll be okay in here,” I said.
Frankie looked once more at me, then at the man on the couch. He left.
“Alone at last,” I said. “How’s the face?”
“How’s it look?”
“I’d say it was an improvement but, let’s be serious, you didn’t start out with too much.”
He snickered. “We can’t all be pretty boys like you.” No, we couldn’t, but with a broken nose, busted mouth, one eye swollen shut and stitches along one cheekbone, he was a farther cry than most.
I smiled at him. “What’s your name?”
“What do you care?”
“Because I like to know the names of the people whose asses I kick.”
His eyes flashed angrily at me—at least, the one that wasn’t swollen shut. “Harrison,” he spat.
“Okay, Harrison.” I took a chair from the kitchenette and turned it backward. I sat on it, my arms around the back. I was still pointing the gun at him. “Here’s what you’re gonna do if you want to keep your miserable life. You’re gonna tell me what I wanna know. Otherwise, I blow your fucking brains out.”
“Yeah, right. You could have done it last night, but you didn’t. Why would you do it now?”
“Because now I know who you killed last night before you chased the girl.”
His good eye widened. “Bullshit.”
“No, not bullshit. She took pictures, remember?”
“Yeah, but the camera was broken. It fell on the ground. I saw it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ever hear of a memory card? That’s where the pictures go, dumbass.”
“No! She told me the pictures were gone.”
“Yeah, she told you that. Why wouldn’t she? You had a fucking knife, which you just killed somebody with.” Then another thought occurred to me. “If you believed the pictures were gone, why the fuck were you standing over her with the knife in your hand when I found you? There was no fucking reason to hurt her, then.”
“No witnesses, man. That was what they told me before I went to meet with Lance.”
My stomach turned. That sounded like something Alexander would say, even if the witness were a woman or a kid.
“Well, surprise. We saw the pictures. You’re in them. So is Lance.” I saw him catch his breath like he was waiting for me to say something else. Then he relaxed.
“So? Now you know your man was going behind your back.” He sneered with his broken mouth. “How’s it feel, knowing he did that?”
I clenched my jaw and willed myself to keep cool. He wanted me to lose it, even if I ended up blowing his brains out in the end. It didn’t matter, as long as he had the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart.
“Whatever. I thought he was dead already. Now he’s definitely dead, and we can stop mourning him. So what?”
Harrison laughed. “You’re so full of shit.” He settled back into the couch cushions, though he still kept his hands visible. “You know it’s the biggest insult possible when a member of your club turns on you. He might as well have shit on your chest.”
I wouldn’t let him do it to me. He couldn’t get into my head. “But he knew he was doing the wrong thing in the end, didn’t he? That’s why you stuck him.”
“Eh, he was gonna go no matter what.” He looked around the tiny, dingy little house. “He lived here, you know. This is where he was hiding out from you. You had no idea. Did you go to the funeral? I bet you did.”
Fucker. It took everything I had inside to keep myself under control. “What deal did you offer him?” I asked. “I’m tired of hearing your voice, so let’s get down to it. What was it all about?”
“What do you think?” He laughed bitterly. “Come on. You’re supposed to be so smart, aren’t you? All the books you read. Could have been a college boy if your old man didn’t get his dumb ass killed. Might have gotten a scholarship and been a doctor or some shit. Right?”
How the hell did he know so much about me? The question must have been plain on my face because he answered it. “My boss makes it a point to know things about people. You might be book smart, but he knows everything about his enemies. It’s why he’s a better leader than you are. Book smarts only get you so far.”
He was trying to chip away at me…and he was winning, as hard as I tried not to let him. I aimed my gun at his chest.
“You don’t even have loyalty,” he added. “Or else why would your guys jump ship so fast?” Your guys. Plural. I fucking knew it.
“Who’s the other one?” My voice was hard now. “Tell me.”
He laughed. “What’s the point? It’s too late now anyway.”
“What do you mean?” The blood pumped faster in my veins when I realized what he was saying. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. I was sitting right here, with you.” He spread his hands and shrugged. “It wasn’t me this time.”
“Who? What’s happening?”
“The Wolves have already won. Did you think Alexander didn’t expect you to come here? You think he didn’t wanna make it obvious that I was here? Three guards. Give me a break. I didn’t need three guards. But he wanted to be sure you knew he was storing me here.”
I stood and kicked the chair over. “And he left you to die, motherfucker. Who’s the joke in this?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if I die. As long as I know you assholes are finished. I hate all of you.”
I leaned in, pressing the gun to his forehead and screaming in his face. “Tell me! Who is it? What did they do?”
He was terrified, his breath coming in short little gasps, but he didn’t answer. He only laughed. He had to be insane. Maybe that was how Alexander made sure his members were faithful to him. They were too crazy to go against him. Like a fucking cult.
“It’s too late. It wouldn’t even matter if I told you. It’s in motion.”
I roared in rage, wishing I had it in me to blow the fucker’s brains out. I pistol whipped him instead, hitting him in the temple with the butt of the gun. He fell over, unconscious.
I spat on him, then turned to the door. Something was happening.
Outside, Axel and Frankie still waited for me. The last guard was still out cold. “What happened? We heard you screaming.”
“Something’s wrong,” I said, getting on my bike. “We have to get back to the clubhouse.”
“What did he say?” Frankie asked, yelling over the roar of my engine.
“There’s some kind of plan in place,” I yelled back. “He said it’s already in motion. They won.”
That was all they needed to hear. Even in my growing panic, I was glad to see that Frankie was in just as big a hurry as I was to get back to the clubhouse.
It had to be Erica. She was in danger. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to her.
Chapter Twenty
Erica
Things at the clubhouse were so tense, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
What had I done to get through the tension the night before? Oh, right. I’d drank myself into a stupor. I didn
’t want to do that again, if only to avoid the hangover in the morning. And I didn’t want Vince to come back and find me drunk either. He was out there, putting his neck on the line. The least I could do was stay sober.
Now that everybody knew Lance had something to do with the other two members dying, there was a lot of anger. “It’s as bad as it was that night,” Brett murmured, pouring a round of drinks. “There’s gonna be some angry drinking around here tonight, and that’ll turn to depressed drinking. Just to give you the heads up.”
I groaned. I’d seen them happy drunk, which was bad enough. I didn’t want to see the angry version. Shoot, they were sober when the fighting started over a stupid board game.
“What’s your suggestion? What should I do?”
“Once they really start into it, you might wanna go up to Vince’s room and lay low,” she offered. “We’re used to it, the girls and me. Sometimes we help them to bed, or we make sure we’re…around, if they want us.” She mumbled that part, and her eyes didn’t meet mine. “You gotta remember, they’re basically a bunch of grown up babies. Emotions run high. They’re not so great at dealing with emotions—they’d rather fight or shoot something or screw something to make it go away. They need a little help getting through things like this.”
My heart went out to her, and to the other girls. My original image of them as den mothers wasn’t too far off. They watched over their men, made sure they had what they needed whether it was booze, food, clean sheets, or somebody to dirty the sheets with. I wished they got a little more respect, though I knew in my heart that any one of the guys would have died for them.
I decided to help the girls in getting the clubhouse ready for another night. They argued with me at first, but I insisted. “I have to do something,” I said. “Otherwise, I’ll go insane.” I was paired up with Tyler, and together we changed bedsheets.
We started in Vince’s room, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment when I saw the way Tyler kept glancing at me with a knowing look. I was sure everybody must have heard what we were doing in the room earlier—as hard as I tried to be quiet, it had been impossible. Just the memory of how intense everything had been left me a little wet, and my cheeks burned even hotter.
I wanted to change the subject to something else, anything but my sex life. What came out of my mouth was the first thing my mind landed on. “Did you know Lance well?” What an idiot, I thought. I wished I could take the words back, as I saw pain flash across Tyler’s face.
“You mean the way you know Vince?”
I smirked. No, the way you know all the other guys here, I thought. She was one to talk. I knew she’d shared a bed with one of the others the previous night, so her arch attitude rubbed me the wrong way.
“I’m only teasing.” She stood, pulling back her black hair. She was wearing another one of her low-cut tops, and I was glad she stood if only to give my eyes a break from the sight of her breasts nearly hanging out. I wasn’t a prude—it was hard not to look, was the problem. They were pretty spectacular.
She sat on the freshly-made bed and took a deep breath. “Lance was my cousin,” she said, her eyes darting up to meet mine.
“Oh, Tyler. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I had no idea.”
She waved a hand, smiling. “Of course you didn’t. No biggie.” Then her hand swept over her cheeks, wiping away the tears that had already fallen. “You know, it’s a terrible thing to say…but I feel like I can tell you this. I couldn’t tell any of the other girls.”
“What is it?” I sat, listening hard. Everything I learned about any of the people in the clubhouse was like one more piece of the puzzle. I wanted so much to solve it, because it meant solving Vince. Every minute together made the need to know him stronger.
“When Vince told us what happened, I was glad my dad wasn’t here to see it. He treated Lance like a son since he never had one. Only me.” She smiled through her tears. “I mean, I’m basically a part of the club. It’s my life. But it wasn’t the same as having a son follow in his footsteps.” My heart went out to her. I imagined a teenager trying to get her father’s attention by hanging around the clubhouse. I could only imagine how weird it must have been—her dad had to know what she was doing with the guys, unless that didn’t start until after his passing.
“He would have been so ashamed,” Tyler continued. “Like I am. I never knew he was working on the side with the Wolves. I swear.” She looked at me, her eyes intense. “Please say you believe me.”
“I do!” I took her hand and squeezed. “I believe you. It’s not the kind of thing a person goes around bragging about, and I can tell you’re faithful to the club. That’s obvious.”
She nodded. “I am. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt them. They’re my family. The only family I have left.” That was another common thread. Some of the members had wives and children, but for the most part there was no one else. It kept them tight.
She laughed a little, shaking her head. “Stupid Lance. I wish he had come to me, I really do. I would have smashed a bottle over the idiot’s head. Doing what he did never works out well. I thought he was smarter than that.”
“I guess he was doing what he thought he needed to do at the time,” I offered.
“Can I ask you something?” The shift in her voice told me an uncomfortable question was coming. I braced myself, wishing I hadn’t asked about Lance.
“Sure.”
“Was it quick?”
Damn it, how to answer that? I didn’t know whether it was quick for him or not. I took off running moments after the stabbing. What was I supposed to say to that? I took my time, choosing my words carefully.
“I think it was,” I said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “It was only one stab. That’s all it took. Then the guy heard me scream, and came running after me.”
“Did you see him fall?”
“I did.”
She rocked back and forth slightly, just enough for me to notice. “He died all alone in that alley. God, I hope Vince kills the bastard who did it.”
I thought back to that bastard, and how he treated me. “Yeah,” I muttered darkly. “Me, too.”
###
“Come on! Join us!”
I cast a wary eye at the game room, where the girls were sitting in on a hand of poker. Samantha was waving me in.
“I don’t know…”
She patted the empty chair beside her. I didn’t have anything better to do, so I sat. The girls cheered. “We need a little more estrogen around here!” Tyler called out.
Sam leaned over. “Honey, it’s like taking candy from a baby when the men are this drunk. Sometimes we take turns winning.” I held back a giggle and let them deal me in. It was better than obsessing over what could be taking Vince so long.
I was no poker player, but it seemed like the girls had spent their fair share of time playing. Or, as I had seen the night before, sitting on the laps of the players and observing. “Watch this,” Sam whispered from behind her hand. “I’ll tell you from their faces what everybody has. They’re so obvious, it’s a sin. I almost feel bad for taking advantage.”
I giggled this time, then listened as one by one Samantha rattled off the way each player communicated their hand. “He always taps his cards on the table…he cups his mouth with his hand when he doesn’t like what he has…he drums his fingers…he looks at the wall…” Sure enough, the players who she predicted had crappy hands did, in fact, have crappy hands.
“It’s not so obvious when they’re sober and in control of themselves,” she admitted. I watched in awe as she shuffled, looking like something out of a casino. “We don’t get to play often, though, so when we do it’s a lot of fun for us.”
I could tell, and before long it was fun for me, too. I didn’t have a lot of girlfriends. I’d always been sort of shy, more into my photography than anything else. I was more of an observer of the world than a part of it, I realized. I spent a lot more time watching people and concocting stories
about them based on what I saw than on actually interacting.
When I first met the girls, I had made up stories about them. They were tragic figures. I couldn’t imagine why they’d want to be part of this life. Abuse, maybe, or daddy issues. And while there could have been a little bit of that—Tyler’s father came to mind, and the wistful way she told me he never had a son—for the most part, they were smart, strong women. I had the feeling they could have left if they wanted to. They weren’t hopeless drunks or junkies. I admitted to myself that I’d assumed that about biker chicks.
What was more surprising was the way I got along with them. They were so quick to welcome me in. At first I had told myself it was for Vince’s sake. They wanted to be nice to his guest. Now I knew that they were just that nice, that welcoming. I had never known people like them. If the girls in high school and college had been so sweet and inclusive, I might have made more friends.