by Deja Voss
Something about it still feels empty. It feels hollow, like I didn’t earn it.
Like no matter what good happens to me or around me, I’m not good enough.
I go into high gear, rolling the tire back to the shed as hard and fast as I can, my legs burning with every step, my lungs struggling to fill with air, and my face turning bright red as the veins in my neck bulge out so hard they feel like they’re going to explode. I collapse to the ground underneath a shade tree, closing my eyes and enjoying the temporary high of pushing my body beyond normal limits.
My cellphone rings in my basketball shorts and I just let it vibrate. My dad’s lawyer has been up my ass the last few days, and there is nobody on the planet I’d rather not speak to than him… aside from my father that is.
You’d think time would make me softer, kinder, more willing to want to make things right with the only surviving member of my family left.
“Dude, we gotta go,” Laz says, reaching out his hand to help me off the ground. “Get your ass up.”
I groan and rub my hands over my face. “I got time for a shower and lunch before we gotta head to the job site,” I say. “Gimme like ten minutes.” After a workout like that, I need to feast or I get really woozy. My stomach is growling already and I’m gonna need at least a gallon of water to replace whatever came out of me. I’m stinky and sweaty and I don’t feel like moving.
“It ain’t about that,” he says. “We gotta go now.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket. Ten missed calls from Mani. I know she wouldn’t be calling me unless it was an emergency or Lean told her to.
“The fuck is going on?” I ask. He tosses me my shirt I can tell by the look on his face whatever it is isn’t good.
“No idea, she’s in hysterics and said Lean wants us at the warehouse right now.”
I put on my shirt and push myself up off the ground with a groan, every muscle in my body sore. Bruiser’s already revving the engine of his Indian and I sniff my sweaty shirt and instantly regret it, but throw it on anyway. Me riding down the highway shirtless will probably draw more attention than we need on us. Hopefully I air out before anybody can smell me, though.
I straddle my bike and take off down the highway, trying not to think of the worst. You never know with Mani. Things have been quiet lately, and everybody seems to be so wrapped up in the casino, we don’t have time for drama, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t bullshit waiting around the corner for us. That’s what happens when you’re the baddest MC in the city. Stay still too long, get too comfortable, people start to think you’re weak.
They look for cracks in the foundation so they can steal your power. Fortunately, I know my crew is too strong to break no matter what life throws at us. Sun on my face, wind on my back, I merge with my machine and put on my mean face. Whatever life is about to throw at us, I know I have this handled.
Chapter Seven
We get to the warehouse and Lean is standing outside.
“Why didn’t any of yinz fuckers answer your phone?” Lean shouts. He’s pacing back and forth, sucking down cigarettes like a fiend, lighting up another one as soon as he stubs one out with his boot. “And what smells like moldy dick?”
I raise my hand and he rolls his eyes.
“Stand your ass still for one second, son, and tell us what’s going on,” Bruiser growls, grabbing his son by the shoulders.
“It’s the Righteous Few,” he says. “They’re fucking with us.”
I grunt and shake my head. Those morons might be vile and everything the MC is against, but in all my years of dealing with them, I’ve learned them to be nothing more than a bunch of basement dwellers who want to pretend like they’re militia men. At the end of the day, they might have the weapons, but they definitely don’t have the power. Their name alone is a stain on the city.
“You want me to go have a talk with them?” I ask.
“That’s what they want,” Lean says, the hanging his head, pressing his fingers to his temples. “They sent us a little box of bait in the mail. They’re trying to pull us in.”
I look around and assess who’s here and who isn’t. If they got Rowdy, I’m certain he could hold his own no matter what the circumstance. Our newest brother, Freak, well, he’s about as nutty as they come, and I don’t think he’d have any problem telling them to fuck right off under an interrogation situation. Beaver and Dale are down in New Orleans working on a job with Erlik and the rest of the crew. That only leaves our prospect Mack, but the whine of his shitty exhaust job comes ripping down the alleyway, and he rushes over to us without barely putting his bike in park.
“Who do they got?” I ask.
Lean looks down at his feet. He looks up at the sky. He looks more somber than his usual mean mug, and I don’t like it one bit. “Come inside,” he says. We follow behind him into the warehouse. Mani is sitting at her office desk, her face frozen into a wide eyed glare. That girl has seen some shit in her day, but she definitely looks rattled now.
“Why don’t you let Mack drive you home, sweetie,” Lean says, rubbing her shoulders.
“You gotta get her,” she mumbles. “Promise me you’ll get her.”
He kisses the top of her forehead. “Take her straight home.” He tosses her car keys to Mack. “You wait outside her room. Don’t let anybody in. You understand?”
Mack nods. I can tell he’s going to be a good brother someday. Most of these young bucks these days just want in on the action. They don’t understand how the most important is to protect what’s ours, our family, our brothers, our community, our patch. They just want to show off how strong and good at fighting they are. They want battle scars. They want war stories.
He doesn’t even ask questions, just holds the door open for Mani.
“I’ll call you when we get home,” he says. “Let me know if you need anything else, chief.”
Lean listens for the door to shut, and walks over to the desk. There’s a white box sitting there addressed to the Royal Bastards MC.
“Well open it, boy,” Bruiser says. Lean sighs, squints his eyes closed, and quickly flings the top of the box open. Lazarus peeks inside and dry heaves.
I look into the box, and my heart immediately sinks into my stomach. “What the hell could they want with her?” I growl. I slam my fist on the table. I’d know that ear anywhere. The three little silver hoops she wears at the bottom, the pink and green rhinestone studs pierced through the top.
It’s one of the prettiest ears I’d ever seen in my life, and now it’s covered in blood and clumps of her long black hair.
“I’m going over there right now,” I shout. I feel for my holster, and regret the fact that I have on gym shorts. Not a lot of room for backup weapons. “Gimme your knife,” I say to Lean, holding out my hand.
“You’re not doing any such thing, Brass,” Bruiser says. “Obviously these fuckers are brazen, but they don’t want to get slaughtered. They’re setting a trap. They’re trying to lure us to that address. They’re probably not even there. Let me make a phone call.”
I walk towards the door but Lean and Lazarus block me.
“I know you got a boner for Jewel,” Lean says under his breath, “but you gotta trust my old man on this one. He’s been around since Floyd was active in the community. He knows how these people work. It’s not right they took her, and it was a stupid move on their behalf because I know she’s the toughest bitch out there.”
All I can think about is the fact that if I wasn’t such an idiot, none of this would be happening. If I wasn’t so fucking stubborn and just made her mine when I had the chance, Floyd and his men wouldn’t even have had a chance to grab her up.
I failed her again, and now I have to do whatever it takes to get her back, even if it means dying myself.
The blood rushes to the veins in my neck and I feel like I’m going to explode inside. I want to crawl out of my skin. Every second I stand here feels like another failure. I can’t hear anything except the roa
r of my thoughts, can’t see anything but red. I push my way through Lean and Lazarus, reciting the address in the note in my head. When I find her, I’m gonna make damn sure nobody ever has the chance to hurt her again. If I have to lock her up in my closet, so be it.
“She’s just a fucking bartender, Floyd,” Bruiser says into his phone. “Her old man died over a year ago. She’s got no leverage. She don’t know shit about shit. You’re so out of touch it ain’t even funny.”
I know she’s so much more than a bartender, but the rest of what he’s saying is right. Nobody’s blasting the inner workings of the club to Jewel. She never asks, either. She’s fucking perfect.
“I know you’re trying to get back on the scene, but kidnapping random women is gonna land your ass back in prison. Why don’t you and I have a sit down. Meet me at Max’s in about an hour.”
My heart races faster. We don’t have an hour, and we sure as fuck don’t have time for the two of them to meet up and have dinner. Jewel’s probably bleeding out and dying somewhere. She’s probably afraid. She’s probably in pain. She’s probably giving up hope that she’s going to live to see another day. I need to go find her now.
“Fuck no, I’m not sending anybody to that address, you moron. Listen, if you want to get your street credit back, we’re doing this on the up and up. You meet me at Max’s in an hour. And you tell your man if they so much as move another hair on Jewel’s head, I’ll cut all their ears off and shove them up their asses.”
He hangs up the phone and immediately starts typing something on the screen.
“Where is she?” I growl.
“God, keep it in your pants man,” he says.
“She doesn’t have time. She could be bleeding out. She could be fucking dead!” I say, grabbing him by the shoulders. I don’t even want to think about that option. I held it together pretty good when Barney died, but finding Jewel dead isn’t something I’ll ever be able to bounce back from.
My mind instantly flashes to that day when I found my mother.
He holds up his cellphone, and the screen shows a little map on it, somewhere out in the suburbs about twenty minutes south of the city. He pinches his fingers together and moves something around, and an address pops up.
“This is where his cellphone pinged from,” he says. “She’s there.”
I instantly snap out of my daze, committing the address to my memory.
“She was mother fucking him up and down the street the whole time I was talking to him. She might’ve lost some blood but she definitely didn’t lose her bite.”
“How the fuck did you do that, old man?” Lazarus asks.
“I know you guys think I’m just some old dog that needs to be put to sleep, but while you’re out there flipping tires and slaying pussy, I’m taking some cyber security classes. This is basic shit.” He types something into his phone and another little map pops up. This one is twenty minutes north of the city. “This is where they wanted us to go. I have no idea why, but I’m sure I can get Floyd to tell me all about it over dinner.”
“I’m bringing her back no matter what it takes, Bruiser,” I say. “I don’t care how many motherfuckers I have to blast.”
He rolls his eyes and walks towards the door.
“I can’t believe you’re sitting down with the devil, dad,” Lean says. “You really want to be seen out in public with him? He just got out of jail. His face is everywhere. Everybody knows what he’s about. I don’t want people thinking we’re some sort of racist douches. Do you know what kind of effect that could have on the casino?”
“Oh you’re coming with me, son,” he says. “Floyd might be a piece of shit, but he’s been waiting for his chance to fuck with the club for the last twenty five years. He’s been locked up with nothing to do but plot and plan, and I know for a fact he wouldn’t just snatch some random bartender without reason. The rest of his crew isn’t fucking bright at all, but Floyd isn’t just diabolical, he’s a genius. Either he knows something or he thinks he knows something.”
I point at my watch. “Clock is fucking ticking,” I shout. “She might be alive but that doesn’t mean she’s ok. You guys go eat sandwiches with Satan or whatever the fuck you think you need to do. I’m going to grab her.”
“Take her to the safe house,” Lean says. “She’s staying there til you get our word. I’ll make sure Rowdy’s there waiting. We’ll get Dr. Butler over there, too. I’ll have Gin bring some of her stuff over. Just be careful, brother.” I can’t help but get a hint in his voice that he thinks it isn’t worth it, like Jewel is nothing more than a bartender, just like his father said. Like now that she’s not Barney’s old lady anymore, he’s not responsible for her. Maybe I’m just reading into things, and I try to shake it from my mind, but it sticks with me.
He’s got his old lady now. His perfect life. His casino. The adoration from the city he was raised up in and the vice presidency of the most powerful motorcycle club in the tristate area.
He reaches to the strap around his ankle and hands me his knife. “What’s the saying? Ear for an ear?” He smirks and I slip it into the pocket of my shorts. “I’ll see ya tonight.”
I push through the glass doorway, and the sun is starting to set over the city. Traffic is going to be horrific to the suburbs, and I don’t plan on waiting for the rest of the crew to keep up with me.
I know Jewel never wanted me to save her, but now she actually needs me.
I’m flying down the expressway before Lazarus and the rest of the guys can even start their bikes up. I take it right down the center line through the Fort Pitt tunnel as backed up cars and trucks honk their horns and shout rude shit at me. I don’t fucking care. There’s only one thing on my mind. I’m gonna do what I should’ve done the day I met her.
Chapter Eight
Jewel:
It’s been far too quiet for far too long. I should know, the only thing keeping me partially coherent is counting. I’ve been counting everything I can from the number of songs I can think of to the number of wing flavors from Quaker Steak and Lube I can recall.
Wiggling each of my toes, counting them and making sure they’re all there still, even though they are almost completely numb.
I wish I paid attention during that yoga and meditation retreat Mani dragged us to last month. I was too busy cutting jokes with Gin about the way the instructor kept farting every time he bent over to do a downward dog. We got kicked out before we even got to any of the stuff about how to shut your brain down and go to your happy place.
I don’t know where my happy place would even be at this point. Somewhere where I’m not tied up and bleeding is a good start, though.
I gotta keep my mind sharp and off of the horror going on around me.
I don’t want to break down and give Floyd what he wants, but I’d give about anything right now for a hot bath and a bowl of soup.
“All he took from you is your ear. You have two. It’s just a flap of skin,” I say out loud, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to come out of somebody’s mouth. I laugh into the darkness at the fucked-upness of it all. How I spent the last year minding my own business, being good, working, eating, sleeping, reading, maybe partying a little bit, but definitely not getting myself tangled up in any drama. I thought I put the drama to bed when Barney died.
Okay, maybe not right after he died. Hooking up with Brass at Barney’s funeral still burns fresh in my mind. There was something about that night that made me feel so safe but so stupid.
So many times I debated showing up at his door for another round. I liked how he made me feel dirty and clean at the same time. Needy but powerful. I spent hours and hours doing mental gymnastics about every word said, every stroke of his tattooed fingers on my flesh, the way he looked over his shoulder as he disappeared into the night. Was he looking for more in that glance or was he trying to make sure I’d keep my mouth shut?
I never had the guts to ask, and he never let me think otherwise.
&nb
sp; I shake out my fingers in the ropes tied around my wrists, clenching my fists, trying to drive fresh blood to my hands, groaning in agony as the pins and needles sensation shoots down my arms.
I need to get the fuck away from these people.
Not just these people who kidnapped me, but the club. This is no way for anybody to live their life.
It’s getting so cold in here. This shack is definitely not insulated whatsoever, and the howling of coyotes in the distance makes me nervous. What if they smell my blood? I’m an easy target. Getting eaten alive by a wild animal is definitely not something on my “hitting rock bottom Bingo card” but now I guess it probably should be.
I jerk my body back and forth, summoning any possible strength I have left in me. I haven’t had even a scrap of food since Floyd grabbed me, and only a little bit of water. He hasn’t been back in so long, I’m pretty sure at this point he doesn’t care if I live or die out here.
“You’re not gonna die,” I whisper. As I swing my legs backwards, my feet touch something hard and cold behind me. Maybe I’m just hallucinating but it feels like the legs of a chair, with wheels on the bottom. A spark of hope and determination burns inside my core as I scoot it closer and closer to me. As I jump up onto it, I’m not sure what my next move is, but I feel some of the pressure come out of my shoulders from not hanging from the ceiling, and there’s a slackness in the rope that I know with enough maneuvering, I can probably use it to free up some space in the knots that bind me.
“You’re not gonna die,” I say. I know I’m not in the clear, but it’s a start.
“And where are you gonna go?” Barney taunts from the recesses of my mind. “They probably have traps everywhere. You know they have guards out there waiting for you. They’ll shoot you before you even make it to the road.”
“So what?” I shout, like he can actually hear me. I’d rather die a free woman than wait around to see what these maniacs have in store for me.