Lincoln

by S. Nelson

  I turned to face Chelsea, griping her shoulders. “Riley is comin’ back inside to be with you, okay?”

  She nodded.

  Then I looked at Ace. “Go outside.”

  He didn’t argue as he walked past me and out the front door.

  I led Chelsea to her couch, careful to not trip over the mess on the floor. “Stay here.” She didn’t respond or even look at me, her attention on the front door. “Do you hear me?” I raised my voice enough for her to tear her eyes from the door and land on mine.

  “Fine.” One tear rolled down her cheek, then another. I hated it when women cried, and because her sadness made me uncomfortable, I rushed outside to find my sister.

  All three of them were on the porch, Ace leaning against the railing probably so he wouldn’t fall the fuck over.

  “She needs you,” I said to my sister. “I think you should stay.”

  “I will.” Riley looked up at Kaden as he was about to protest, I was sure. “Ace is going with you guys, so I’ll be fine here with Chelsea.” She gave him a quick kiss, and he seemed to relax a little.

  “All right, enough.” I grabbed Riley’s hand and pulled her toward me. “You need to go in there now before she comes out here.”

  “Yeah, okay.” She looked back at Kaden before finally going back inside.

  Kaden, however, was not happy, not in the slightest. He shot Ace a disgusted look before he stomped down the steps and toward his truck.

  “Come on, man.” I was next to Ace in a few strides, slapping him on the back before we followed our buddy.

  “Bitch is nuts,” he grumbled next to me. “But I think I love her anyway.” He said the last part more under his breath, but I heard him. Although whether he remembered what he said once he slept off his drunken state was a different matter.

  8

  Kaden stepped over Ace’s stretched-out legs. The second the drunk bastard sat on the sofa, he leaned his head back and passed out, his shirt torn on the bottom and sprinkled with his blood. He was gonna have one hell of a headache tomorrow, and to make matters worse, I could bet that Kaden was gonna read him the riot act for what happened back at Chelsea’s earlier. Too much alcohol had been consumed, and typically, I didn’t give a shit what happened between people, but for Riley to call Kaden to come and get her, well, let’s just say I didn’t want my sister to be involved in anything like that ever again.

  “Have you heard anything more about Tag?” It was close to four in the morning now, and I wasn’t under the assumption we’d be kept in the loop every step of the way, or if anything at all had even happened after we left that house, but I asked the question regardless.

  “Nope.” Kaden blew out a strained breath. He looked exhausted, but he’d probably say the same thing about me. “I’m headin’ to bed. The spare room has an inflatable mattress if you wanna use it.” He jerked his chin at me before disappearing upstairs, his steps heavy, indicative to the weight on both our shoulders.

  After finally settling in for the night, I stared at the ceiling, willing my overcharged brain to shut down. But I had no such luck. From the fight between Ace and Chelsea to Kaden wanting Riley to move in with him, to wondering what was gonna happen with Tag, I couldn’t seem to quiet my mind. It was only when my thoughts wandered to a certain brunette that I started to drift off, imagining a scenario where I could make good on my internal promise to myself and save her from them.

  “Hold up,” Ace groaned, righting himself against the couch before leaning forward. His eyes were bloodshot, and sections of his dark hair stuck up in places. His shirt looked like a crumpled mess, matching the rest of his appearance. “Run through that again. I wanna make sure I heard everything right.”

  “Kaden and I were texted an address, and when we showed up, Jagger led us into the basement. That’s when we saw Tag strapped to a table.” I gripped the back of my neck, the strain of the past twelve hours making my muscles ache.

  “Tag?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And why does Marek think he’s a Reaper?”

  “’Cause he found a picture in the guy’s wallet, and apparently Tag’s father was a Reaper,” I said, blinking a few times because I hadn’t gotten enough sleep and my vision was still hazy.

  “This Vex guy, Tag’s father, was someone who did unspeakable things to my mom when she lived with them,” Kaden interjected, taking a seat next him on the sofa.

  “Sully was part of the Reapers?” Ace asked, his brows knitted tightly together while trying to piece all the information together.

  “Apparently. Her father was the president of the fuckin’ club.” Even as I said the words, it was hard for me to associate Sully with any part of the Reapers, let alone being the daughter of its leader.

  “So, she was involved with their shit?” After asking another question, Ace stood, his fingers pressing the sides of his temples. He groaned and closed his eyes. “Why the fuck did I drink so much?”

  “Who knows,” I replied, not sure if he remembered much from last night at this point. Before either Kaden or I jogged his memory, however, we finished telling him about our latest issue, to put it mildly.

  “My mom wasn’t involved with them the way you think.” Kaden leaned his head against the back of the couch, his shoulders tense, and his expression deflated. “I was told her father abused her as well as allowing the other members, specifically Vex, to do so.”

  “Okay… okay. But because your mom was treated how she was,” Ace said, slowing his words toward the end because he was probably uncomfortable saying such things about Sully, “Marek thinks Tag is just like him?” Before either of us could answer, he said, “I thought Tag didn’t really know his ol’ man. That he left when he was a kid.”

  “That’s the information we have, too,” Kaden answered, blowing out a breath because now Ace could somewhat understand our frustration. “I really don’t think Tag is a Reaper, but it’s hard to try and convince the other guys of that.”

  “Well, what now?” Ace took to pacing, stopping after several steps to clutch his head again.

  “Marek said they would research his story before they did anything else. How long it’ll take, we have no idea.” I looked to Kaden, and he nodded, agreeing with every word I spoke.

  “Now,” I started, turning fully to face Ace, “about last night.”

  “Yeah,” Kaden chimed in, rising from the couch. “The next time Riley has to call me to come get her because she’s nervous to be around you while you’re drunk, we’re gonna have a problem.” Kaden stepped closer to Ace, but surprisingly, the guy didn’t flinch. Maybe his hangover consumed too much of his good sense.

  “First off, I didn’t do a thing to Riley. I wasn’t the one throwing stuff, and I sure as hell wasn’t the one screaming bloody murder. If anyone was uncomfortable last night, it was me.” His expression hardened when he looked back and forth between me and Kaden. “I’m sorry Riley felt some type of way, but I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

  “You were drunk, and you engaged in Chelsea’s bout of crazy.” I reminded him he wasn’t as innocent as he liked to believe.

  “Riley said you tackled Chelsea. Is that true?” Kaden asked, his jaw clenching while waiting for the answer.

  Ace closed his eyes, and just when I thought he wasn’t gonna say anything else, he nodded, reaching around to grab the back of his shoulder.

  “I fucked my arm up, too.” His nonchalant words made both me and Kaden bristle with anger.

  “Are you serious?” I shouted.

  By this time, Ace realized we were both pissed, and he backed up a few steps. “Listen, I didn’t tackle Chelsea to hurt her.” He reached up and touched his temple once more. “She started throwing shit at me. She even hit me in the head with somethin’ heavy. I had to get her to stop, so I rushed toward her in self-preservation.” His attention bounced between us. “I’d never intentionally hurt her or Riley.”

  “You were drunk,” I repeated. “You should’ve le
ft when it got heated.”

  “You’re right,” he said, conceding to my point.

  “I don’t care what you do. But when my woman is present, you better act accordingly.”

  Ace and I simultaneously grimaced.

  “What?” he asked, confused by our expressions.

  “It’s still weird to hear you call Riley your woman,” I said.

  “Yeah, it is,” Ace agreed.

  “Get used to it,” Kaden shouted over his shoulder as he walked out of the room.

  The vibration of my phone in my pocket drew my attention. When I swiped the screen, I saw a text from Rico, the guy who helped run the fights.

  “Fuck,” I grumbled.

  “What?”

  “I got a fight tonight.”

  “So?”

  “So, I got enough on my mind right now. I was hoping it’d be a couple days before I had to get in the ring again. That’s all.” Once I typed out a response, tellin’ him I’d be there, I asked, “What were you two really fightin’ about last night anyway?”

  Ace shook his head, looking more defeated and disheveled than when he first woke up.

  “I wish I could tell ya.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “Bits and pieces but not enough to wrap my head around why Chelsea got so crazy.”

  “Women,” I laughed. “Can’t live with ’em…”

  “…can’t gag ’em,” Ace finished, his lips twitching before drawing downward.

  9

  Sandwiched between Griller and Pike, I could barely catch my breath, and while I wanted to escape, to run out of the building toward freedom, I realized I was trapped. To add to my heightened nerves, I was surrounded by people yelling and screaming for two guys pummeling each other in the ring. Violence seemed so freely accepted by everyone here, something I couldn’t wrap my head around. And maybe that was because I’d been thrust into the midst of violence myself.

  The sight of blood and bruised skin made my stomach flip, but those same images made everyone else excited. I chose to keep my eyes closed for the duration of the fights, the sound of fists hitting flesh, making me choke on my rising bile.

  But then I heard his name and my unsteady breaths evened out, and my lids opened slowly, searching the crowd for the one the announcer called Lincoln Crosswell.

  From attending several fights with my captors, I’d learned this guy was undefeated. He’d enter the ring, fight quickly and either knock out his opponent or make them tap out. But I wasn’t the least intrigued by his fighting skills, although they were noteworthy. Instead, I was curious about his odd concern for me.

  I didn’t know him.

  I’d only seen him among hundreds of others, yet the first time his eyes connected with mine, I swore he tried to tell me something, all without speaking.

  He never wore a leather vest, but I deduced he was also in a motorcycle club, his friends who showed up at his fights wearing theirs. And while I didn’t know anything about him, other than his status in the ring, something told me he wasn’t like the men who held me against my will. Granted, it was my inexperience that landed me in this mess in the first place, so I proved I wasn’t such a good judge of character. But the last time I saw him, I literally ran into him coming out of the ladies’ room, his hands landing on my shoulders to steady me in my surprise. His touch warmed me, but I was ripped backward before I could lose myself to him, no matter how silly that sounded.

  While the president and a prospect from the Reapers flanked me on either side, I was still able to see the throngs of people part as someone walked down the narrow path toward the cage, their shouts and eagerness to be near the fighter reaching a deafening level.

  I watched every step Lincoln took, his eyes straight ahead, focused. He was graceful when he entered the ring, floating about like he owned the place, and I supposed to a point, he did.

  He wore black shorts, his chest bare, his muscles stretching beneath his skin as he swung his arms in front of him, then out to the sides in a stretch. There was a man in his corner who pulled him back and talked into his ear. Lincoln nodded once, then again, shrugging away from who I assumed was his trainer. The dark blond stranger looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. I wasn’t good with ages, but he appeared much older than Lincoln, who seemed to be closer to my age of eighteen than not.

  Lost to the sight of the man in the ring, I was startled when Griller yanked me to the side.

  “If he comes after her again tonight, we’ll be ready,” he muttered to Pike, raising his shirt to reveal the handle of a gun. I didn’t need to ask who he referred to, not that he would answer me even if I did, because he was talking about Lincoln.

  I didn’t want any harm to come to the fighter, so I wrapped my fingers around Griller’s arm and tugged. When he looked down at me, I hesitated in speaking, expecting to be struck for my brazenness. But if it meant keeping Lincoln safe and out of their crosshairs, I had to try.

  “You don’t have to hurt him.”

  He yanked his arm from my feeble hold and snatched a fistful of my hair, roughly pulling my head back. “I know I don’t have to,” he sneered, his grip intensifying and bringing tears to my eyes. “But I wanna. It’s finally time he learns his place. I’m gonna wait till he’s done, though, ’cause I have some money riding on this fight.” He winked, as if he’d told me some sort of joke, my heart skipping a beat when, a few moments later, Lincoln was declared the winner.

  It was only a matter of minutes now before something awful happened to him. I searched the crowd, looking for his friends, hoping I remembered what they looked like, although it wouldn’t be hard to notice them because they should be wearing leather vests. And if their enormous friend was here tonight, there was a chance Lincoln wouldn’t be killed.

  But I’d learned not to hold my breath over certain situations because I’d only end up dead.

  Griller shoved me toward Pike. “Watch her,” he growled. “I see Rock and Cosa back there. We’re gonna need everyone for this.” Again, he didn’t need to talk in code because I knew he planned on going after Lincoln and, most likely, his friends.

  Pike steadied me so I didn’t fall. “I got her,” he replied, nodding before his president walked away, leaving the two of us together.

  I was under no assumptions Pike would free me, but as his hold on me relaxed, his expression morphed from hard to concerned.

  He really was a handsome guy with his light brown hair, flecks of blond streaked throughout, and his hazel eyes, which had brown specks toward the iris. The softness in them was something I believed he only showed to me. It was how he initially enticed me to throw caution to the wind and go with him back to his club that first night.

  “I don’t want Griller to hurt him,” I said, leaning closer, realizing he wouldn’t punish me for speaking my mind. He was kind to me when none of the other members of his club were present.

  “There is nothin’ I can do about it.”

  While I didn’t want to admit it, I realized Pike couldn’t speak up. He was one of them. Therefore, he had to follow along, no questions asked. Besides, if he did open his mouth, they’d beat him, like they’d done before. And I didn’t want him to get hurt either.

  Relishing in the time I had left before the other men came back, I looked toward the ring, but I didn’t see Lincoln or his trainer. My eyes trailed over the crowd, but there was only so much I could see, my five-foot-three frame not tall enough to see everyone.

  “Come on,” Pike said, grabbing my hand to pull me behind him. “We’re being summoned.” But I resisted with a slight tug, the need to use the ladies’ room coming out of nowhere. My urge to pee had nothing to do with nerves, however. For the past couple of days, I had to go quite often, and it was only yesterday that I felt a twinge of pain when I urinated.

  I tugged on his hand again, and he looked back at me. We were now in a hallway, and although we were far from being alone, there were fewer people surrounding us.


  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “Can’t you hold it?” he asked, looking ahead before back at me.

  I shook my head and bit my bottom lip, my leg crossing over the other with the urgent need to use the toilet.

  He huffed. “Fine.”

  He guided me further down the hallway until we came to a door marked with an image of a toilet. He pulled me inside, not a care there were other women present. If I had to guess, they didn’t seem to mind Pike was in here with us. In fact, two of the girls at the sink looked him up and down, licking their lips in appreciation.

  If they only knew.

  “I’ll be right outside. Hurry up or he’s gonna be pissed.” He let go of my hand and walked out, leaving me to wait in line behind one other person. Even though I relished in the time away from all of them, each second reminded me I had people waiting on me. I wasn’t free. I didn’t think I’d ever be free again, not until I was dead. Such morbid thoughts for someone my age, but they were all I had. If I wasn’t wishing to leave this world, in whatever way that happened, then I was dreaming of nonsensical things, like going to the movies or hanging out with my friends from back home, all scenarios which would never play out again.

  As I flushed and exited the stall, I heard shouting coming from outside the door, more and more voices joining in. Something told me the noise had nothing to do with the earlier excitement of the fight and everything to do with Griller’s plan to go after Lincoln.

  I didn’t know what got into me because I wasn’t a brave person by nature, but I yanked open the door and rushed outside, only to run right into the middle of an all-out brawl.

  10

  “Who the fuck you lookin’ for? Huh?”

  Griller stood directly in front of me, a few members of his club surrounding him. There were four of them total, like last time, only there was one guy I hadn’t seen before. A prospect.