Viper (Hell's Handlers MC Book 9)

by Lilly Atlas

  “He did?” She turned her head to watch him as he made a right onto a winding mountain road. They never really spoke of how they met with others. The story could have had a very different ending and Cassie still felt the old anxiety whenever she thought of it. But now, she was curious what Viper had told his friend and president.

  “Yep,” Copper said, eyes on the road ahead. “Always wondered if he’d exaggerated how he and Sarge saved you.”

  With a laugh Cassie relaxed into the heated seat of Copper’s giant pickup. “Well then, I guess you better fill me in on what he told you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  1982 - WASHINGTON

  “You solid with the plan?” Sarge asked as they sat astride their idling bikes.

  Viper stared straight ahead at the quiet shack. Light from a television screen flickered through the window of the front room. Other than that, the place might as well have been deserted.

  Legs had been back on watchdog duty for the past six hours. Viper and Sarge were set to relieve him for the remainder of the night. Their orders were to keep the girl alive and a virgin, but they’d been given the green light to “play a little” as Fox had said. Long as she went to her buyer with an intact pussy and bruise free, they were good to go.

  Christ, just the memory of the conversation had Viper’s fists curling. Never before had he been able to say he hated his father. Sure, as a hotheaded, cocky as fuck teenager they’d had their fair share of screaming matches, but that was kid shit. It all blew over as soon as the hot water cooled.

  Tonight, he’d had to walk away from Fox because he didn’t trust himself not to wrap hands around the old man’s throat and squeeze until his eyeballs popped.

  Since his gaze had connected with the kidnapped girl’s the previous night, Viper felt like a live wire dangling from a power pole, snapping and popping with deadly energy. Every man in the club had suffered from the painful zap of his mood at some point over the last day. Fox was so fed up with him, he assigned “bitch sitting” duty and ordered Sarge along to babysit the cranky babysitter.

  Turned out to be the best outcome. Now they both had a reason to be back at the shack.

  “Yeah. I’m tight. It’s a good plan.”

  Sarge nodded. “Okay, the body should be arriving in about two hours. I’ve got the Scoundrel’s cut all ready to go,” he said referring to the rival MC most hated by the Tribe.

  Nodding without taking his attention off the shack, Viper said, “You never told me how you managed that one.”

  “What? Swiping one of the Scoundrel’s cuts?” Sarge said with a chuckle. “Remember that bar fight Legs got into with one of those fuckers last year?”

  Was she awake in there? Huddled in a corner, scared out of her mind? Had Legs…No.

  Viper couldn’t let himself go there. If he lost his temper, he’d fuck up. Then the girl wouldn’t be the only one up a creek. He and Sarge would be right there with her. So instead of fucking up the plan and charging the shack with a primal roar, he focused on Sarge. “Yeah, I remember. Legs got his ass handed to him by that scrawny guy more than half a foot shorter than him.”

  Sarge chuckled. “Fuck, forgot about that part. Anyway, before the fists started flying, both of ’em took their cuts off. Legs tossed his to Fox. The Scoundrel was stupid enough to drop his over a chair. I straight up walked out of the bar with it under my fucking arm. Figured it’d come in handy someday. I was right.”

  Viper grunted. He’d actually heard the story before, but his brain was only half in attendance tonight. Most of it was dedicated to the woman they were about to rescue. The plan was simple. Burn down the shack and frame the Scoundrels. They needed the club to believe Viper and Sarge’s bodies burned up in the shack along with the girl’s. At least long enough for them to get lost somewhere else in the country.

  Executing the plan would take a bit of finesse.

  Thankfully, Sarge was a master at planning these types of ops, and had useful contacts all over the country. Hell, all over the world. One of those contacts happened to work at a funeral home. Actually, a woman he banged on the regular worked at the funeral home. A good dicking and five hundred dollars was apparently the going rate to purchase the dead body of a homeless man. Not much, all things considered.

  “All right let’s review one more time. We bullshit with Legs until he leaves. Body gets here in an hour. We wait another hour after that just to make sure someone ain’t coming around to feed us or some shit. Then we split up. I’ll make a trail in the woods for the club to follow, you get the body in position, grab the girl, and scram. I’ll circle back around and burn the place to the fucking ground.” Sarge sounded almost gleeful, as though they were planning a party instead of a captive rescue that could go seriously fucking wrong. “Don’t forget to get the cut on the body. It’ll look like the Scoundrels lit the place up but one of the fuckers didn’t make it out. Rest fled through the woods.”

  “What if the body burns up, and they can’t tell it had a Scoundrels’ cut?” Viper asked. Through the window, he watched as Legs stood, stretched, then scratched his nuts before wandering out of the room. He was back only seconds later, beer in hand. Viper let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Legs hadn’t been out of sight long enough to have fucked with the girl.

  They’d run down Sarge’s plan a hundred times since he’d devised it last night, but he seemed to understand Viper’s need to review it one last time.

  “If you put the body where we discussed, half hanging out the front door, it should get charred but not fully cooked.” He spoke in a calm tone, as though they were planning an average Saturday night. “Fox will probably tell the cops this place was empty, which will hopefully keep the search for our bodies to a minimum. If all goes well, our club will assume we’re dead and, in a few weeks, they’ll make up some bullshit accident to tell everyone.”

  The plan was risky. Seriously fucking risky. Fox wouldn’t just let his son’s death go unretaliated. Even if he told the rest of the world his son died in some tragic bike accident, he’d bring war to the Scoundrels’ door. At some point, hopefully later rather than sooner, it’d come out that none of the Scoundrels actually burned up in a fire. The jig would be up, and Viper and Sarge would be enemy number one as far as the club was concerned. There’d be a manhunt. The club’s reach was far and wide. The only shot they had was to get away far enough and fast enough before all that happened.

  “I take the girl to the motel in Oregon. No stops along the way.”

  “Right,” Sarge said. “And I’ll meet you there.”

  The trickiest part would be getting out of town without being seen. They planned to stay at a motel a few hours south, out of the state, and lay low for the next couple of days before riding east together.

  “And this place we’re heading, what’s it called again?” Viper asked.

  “Townsend. It’s in Tennessee. At the base of the Smoky Mountains.”

  “How’d you hear about it?”

  “Guy I did boot camp with was from there. They’ve got a club. He planned to prospect after his tour. Introduced me to a few of the guys.”

  “He there now?”

  When Sarge didn’t answer right away, Viper finally took his focus off the shack. A frown had Sarge looking genuinely sad. “Nah. IED took him out about halfway through our first deployment.”

  “Shit.”

  With a shrug, Sarge nodded. That was his way. He kept his personal shit locked up tight. After more than a year of knowing the guy, Viper barely knew more of Sarge’s story than he did the first day. “I’ve stayed in touch with the guys I met over the years. They’re one percenters, but not into this kinda shit,” he said pointing toward the shack.

  Easy to assume, but he’d have said the same about his own club two days ago. Never again would he walk into a situation blind and stupid. “So you say.”

  Sarge grunted. “True. When I was getting out of the army, I almost prospected there. Came here instead
to be closer to my roots.” He shook his head.

  “All right, brother, let’s do this shit.” Viper held his fist out.

  When Sarge bumped his knuckles against Viper’s, their gazes collided. Neither was comfortable with the decision to flee the club, but they’d come up with no other viable option. Viper couldn’t remain loyal to a club involved in the kidnapping and selling of women. That was the bottom line.

  The fact that he’d be leaving his family, leaving the only life he’d know hadn’t exactly sunk in yet. His entire life, he’d been preached to about loyalty, brotherhood, club family above all. He still believed in all those things even if he’d be labeled a traitor. A disloyal deserter who the club wouldn’t hesitate to kill.

  Legacy or not.

  Thing of it was, he saw the situation differently. He and Sarge weren’t the disloyal ones. The rest of the club earned that title. They’d kept secrets, tricked their prospects, and pulled Viper into the one thing Fox had known his son would object to.

  Fox knew Vanessa’s rape and death had torn Viper up like nothing else. He’d been there when Viper heard the news of her rape and completely lost his shit. Fox had a front row seat to her downward spiral as she tried to deal with the aftermath of being violated. And he’d been there when Vanessa’s parents called to tell Viper she’d been found dead in the bathtub. Wrists slit.

  He’d never forget the devastating shock of that call. The way the phone had slipped through his finger as he crumbled to his knees in his father’s driveway with a scream so full of agony, neighbors poked their heads out of their homes to see what the commotion was about. Fox had retrieved the phone, spoken a few words to Vanessa’s mother, then dropped down right beside his son to hold him as he raged and grieved.

  And the fucker had been hurting young, defenseless women like Vanessa all along.

  “Eyes open, watch your six the whole time,” Sarge said as they started toward the shack. Viper would be the one to try to convince the woman they meant her no harm. He had the monumental task of getting her to leave with him. He felt he’d connected with the woman last night, and probably had the highest chance of talking her into leaving with them. Worse came to worst, he’d knock her out, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  He’d watch his six all right. Especially once there was a gorgeous woman nestled against it on his bike.

  CHAPTER SIX

  PRESENT DAY - TENNESSEE

  “Oh, my God,” Cassie said on a gasp as she entered the clubhouse. Her steps faltered and her knees weakened at the sight before her. “Copper…”

  He grasped her now trembling hand and held it against his chest. “Go ahead,” he said, nodding toward the center of the room where someone had parked Viper’s bike.

  Not the one he’d ridden up until the day he died, no, his old bike. The one they’d ridden together as they’d fled Washington all those years ago. The tables and chairs in the clubhouse had been shoved to the perimeter of the room and standing around the bike in a large circle was each and every member of her and Viper’s club family. Dressed in all black, they made a somber, yet beautiful picture. The women each held a candle which casted a glow on the bike while all the men held a glass with a double shot of what she assumed was Wild Turkey. Viper’s favorite drink. He was a simple man, never one for frivolity or overindulgence. Except when it came to her. He’d indulged every damn desire she’d ever had.

  All of a sudden, Cassie’s chest tightened. Were Viper here, he’d tell them all to fuck off and get to partying instead of wasting their energy on grief. But secretly, he’d have been honored. Her throat thickened and she literally felt the love her family had for her husband as though it was a warm, soft, blanket surrounding her.

  “C-copper,” she whispered again, trembling now.

  “I know,” he answered, and she swore her voice wasn’t the only one with a tremor.

  “Thank you.”

  He squeezed her hand and nodded. “Go on,” he said before releasing her.

  Cassie drew her hand from the warmth of Copper’s giant mitt. On legs that quivered, she walked a few steps forward. Not a sound could be heard beyond her quiet footfalls. All eyes stayed on her, but she only had eyes for Viper’s bike. Tears filled her eyes. She allowed them to fall. No one would hold the crying against her, and she couldn’t have stopped it regardless. Each step brought her closer to a piece of Viper that meant so much more to them than chrome, leather, nuts, and bolts.

  Movement to her right caught her attention. She shifted her gaze to find Jazz standing between her men, shaking fingers wiping away her own tears. The poor kid had a mountain of guilt over Viper’s death and no matter how many times Cassie had assured her of her innocence, she still claimed responsibility.

  Sweet girl.

  Jazz tilted her head as though to ask if Cassie wanted her by her side. The black leather leggings and fitted long-sleeved black blouse were so Jazz. Classy yet sassy at the same time.

  One small shake of her head had Jazz nodding and backing up. Screw kissed the top of her head and Gumby slipped an arm around her waist. Bless those two men and their love for Jazmine.

  As much as Cassie wanted to reach out and take every hand offered, she needed to do this on her own. After a few more steps, she found herself next to the bike. God, how many years had it been since they’d ridden this motorcycle? Fifteen at least. Yet, she was still beautiful. Shiny chrome, smooth leather seat, gorgeous blue paint job on the gas tank. That had been a gift from Cassie to Viper. A wedding present. She’d saved every single extra penny she’d earned. He’d been floored when he’d seen the custom paint job.

  So many fantastic memories of a life lived together.

  She ran her hand over the soft seat as she breathed in and she swore she could smell Viper’s cologne as he sat astride that bike.

  After giving her a few moments with her thoughts, Copper cleared his throat.

  Cassie turned to see him standing with Shell at his side. Her fitted black dress highlighted the adorable baby bump that seemed to grow by the day. She held her husband’s hand, and by the white of Shell’s knuckles, she squeezed him hard. One thing the loss of a close friend or family member did was make everyone cling just a little tighter to their loved ones. Death could be a scary slap in the face by reality.

  Nothing was guaranteed. Every life was precious. Every relationship priceless.

  Copper cleared his throat again before accepting a glass of whiskey from Zach who stood to his right. “A lot was said earlier at the funeral about the type of man Viper was, how much he loved his club, and how much we fucking loved him back.”

  Warmth spread through Cassie’s chest as a chorus of agreement in the form of, “fuck yeah,” and “damn straight,” went around the room.

  “That’s right,” Copper said. “So instead of continuing to feed his ego, I’m gonna make this toast about something else.”

  Cassie chuckled right along with everyone else even as fat tears continued to roll down her cheeks. Viper was the least egotistical man she’d ever met, hence Copper’s joke.

  “I’m gonna talk about Viper’s absolute favorite topic, hands down. His fucking incredible wife, Mama V.”

  Her breath hitched. Was he trying to make her bawl like a baby?

  “Not everyone here knows the story of how Viper met Cassie,” he said, his voice stronger than it had been a moment before. “It’s not mine to tell so I’ll leave it up to the lady if she wants you to know. Neither talked about it much. It was hard, personal, and private. But I’ll tell you this much, the moment that man laid eyes on his woman, he was a fucking fish flopping on the line.”

  Cassie choked out a laugh at that.

  “She hooked him, reeled his ass in, and made him hers. And fuck if he didn’t sing her praises nearly every damn day.” Copper lifted his glass, rubbing his chin as he did so in a move that was classic Copper.

  The rest of the men followed, raising their glasses high. “I’m gonna keep this short, bu
t sweet. Never known a better goddammed man than Viper. Pretty sure I never will. Mama V, you’re the heart of this club, and Viper was its fucking soul. We’re all bleeding right now, and the wound may never fully heal, but that man’s a goddammed hero and he will be revered as one for as long as this club lives.”

  “Hero is fucking right,” called out Screw as both he and Gumby huddled close to Jazz. Cassie lifted her gaze to the heavens. That’s what Viper had died for right there. He gave his life so those three could have their happy ever after and, in her heart, Cassie knew he’d made the right choice.

  “To Viper and Mama V,” Copper said.

  “To Viper and Mama V,” the men called out before tossing back their drinks. For a moment, chatter kicked up around the room but when Cassie lifted a hand, immediate silence ensued. All eyes fell to her, sadness reflected behind the flicker of candlelight. Her family waited quietly as she gathered ten days’ worth of swirling thoughts.

  Actually, it was thirty years’ worth of love, devotion, and life she tried to pare down into a few words. Not an easy task.

  As she stroked her hand over the soft leather of the bike’s seat she smiled. Whatever profound words she’d been planning to say about Viper’s strong character, selfless nature, and loyalty to his club faded away on a small chuckle. “Did Viper ever tell any of you about the time we broke down on this bike?”

  One, two, three ticks of the clock passed where her family probably wondered how to play this. Then Shell cleared her throat. “I’ve for sure never heard that story. The way Viper talked about that bike, I thought that bike was impervious to breaking down.”

  “Seriously,” Maverick added with a laugh. “He made that baby seem like the Jesus of bikes. Shit, pretty sure he even told me he rode it across water one time.”

  As everyone laughed, Shell blew out her candle. Copper gave her a narrow-eyed look but after she nodded at her man, he grabbed her a chair. The rest of her family followed suit and within a few minutes everyone was seated around the clubhouse, fresh drinks in hand.