Sinister (Raiders of Valhalla MC Book 2)

by Elizabeth Knox

  Sinister

  Raiders of Valhalla MC

  E.C. Land

  Elizabeth Knox

  Sinister

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Sinister. Copyright © 2021 by Elizabeth Knox & E.C. Land. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the authors, except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews. For information, contact Elizabeth Knox or E.C. Land.

  Cover Design by Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations

  Photographer: Golden Czermak

  Models: Robert Kelly & Katie Marie

  Editing by Jackie Ziegler, Knox Publishing

  Formatting by E.C. Land, Knox Publishing

  Proofreading by Rebecca Vazquez, Knox Publishing

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Warning

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Coming Up Next

  Available Now By Elizabeth Knox

  Available Now By E.C. Land

  Social Media

  TRIGGER WARNING

  This content is intended for mature audiences only.

  It contains material that may be viewed as offensive to some readers, including graphic language, dangerous and sexual situations, murder, rape, and extreme violence.

  Prologue

  Fern

  Two Months Ago . . .

  Lennon Stella plays in my earbuds as I walk into the back. I just closed up shop, and now it’s time to sanitize the rooms. For the most part, I already have everything done, but two clients left right at close. Luckily, the rooms are directly across the hall from each other. I’m the only one here in the building after my massage therapists left. It’s not the first time I’ve closed by myself, but every time I do, I get the heebie-jeebies.

  I go into the room on the left first, holding onto my cleaning tote. I place it down on the floor and take out my disinfectant and a microfiber cloth. Giving the table a few sprays, I wait a couple minutes, then rub in circular motions until the table is dry. I then spray the doorknob and any place where someone might touch. I get sick as a dog very easily. While I’m at it, I make sure to grab the used robes from today’s clients and bundle them into my arms. I leave the room, push open the door across the hall, and set my cleaning bucket on the floor.

  Lennon Stella’s voice pumps through my ears and I even turn it up a notch. I can’t help it. The lyrics to “Older Than I Am” really hit my soul deep. Once I’m finished turning my volume up, I grab the robes in this room and proceed to walk into the laundry room. If I start a load now, it’ll be more than ready in the morning. Dropping the robes in the laundry, I throw a pre-measured pod in and start the baby up. The other rooms have already been cleared out, so I’m good to go there.

  I’ll probably be here another thirty or so minutes before I can leave, but I told Nikki she could leave early. She had a baby ten weeks ago, so she wanted to go get her from the daycare. Today was really hard on her since it’s her husband’s birthday. You see, she’s a widow. I haven’t known her very long, but I already think she’s one of the strongest women I know.

  I pick up my cleaning tote again and head down the hall. Heading back to the saltwater bath room, I flip on the light switch and head to the tub. It’s already drained, so I spray the bleach and water mixture in the tub, letting it set for a couple minutes before I use another microfiber cloth to wipe it away.

  Starting to feel a bit warmer, I rip off my black cardigan and toss it on the floor beside me. I have to lean to clean the tub really well, so I do it. I lean over the edge and get the crevasses very well, especially looking for any loose hairs. I kind of treat cleaning the spa like I would my own home. If I’d get skeeved out by it, I’m sure a client would too.

  There’s an odd smell wafting through the air, so I grab the disinfectant spray and press the button on the top. The aerosol can sprays the lavender and vanilla scent throughout the room. I think nothing of it, assuming maybe the last person in here had some bad BO. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve experienced something like this.

  I wait for a minute and I still feel warm. In fact, it’s like the heat is creeping up on my back. The scent only gets worse, and I turn behind me with the can in my hand. The sight in front of me is terrifying, and I’m stuck frozen in place.

  Red and amber flames engulf the door I came through minutes before. How did this happen? I was just out there. I swallow hard and back up, only to fall into the tub. The back of my head hits against the tub and a daze comes over me. I fight the throbbing pain coursing through my head, using my hands to pull myself out of the tub.

  Standing back up, the flames are worse than I thought. I spot my cardigan on the floor, so I grab it and cover my mouth with it. Sure enough, the smoke begins to coat my lungs, and I’m unable to stop coughing.

  With every inhale, it becomes more difficult, and my heart beats so hard I can feel it in my head. Fuck, I’m starting to have an anxiety attack. Shit. This isn’t the time. This is so not the time!

  I tear out my EarPods, disconnect my Bluetooth and tap on the screen, but nothing works. It’s getting even hotter, and my phone begins to burn my fingertips. Shit! I end up dropping my cell and my gut clenches in fear. Dammit. How am I supposed to get out of here?

  I turn around and glance over the now smoke-filled room. Swallowing hard, I see a window. I can probably fit through it to get out. A hot teapot-like sound causes me to look back. The whistling keeps getting louder and louder until an explosion breaks out in front of me.

  Pain, God, there is so much pain. I scream even though no one can hear me and my chest begins to feel heavier. No, I can’t get panicked right now. I need to get out. I have to.

  Wetness spills over the left side of my face. For some reason, I want to touch my skin, so I do, but as I bring my hand down, it’s covered in blood. God, this is really happening. My life isn’t supposed to be an episode of Chicago Fire, for fuck’s sake!

  I run over to the door, take the cloth away from my mouth and use it as a protective barrier to slowly pull the window open. I’m terrified with every push, but eventually, it’s open enough for me to get out. All I have to do now is get the screen open, so I punch my fist through it and pull back the mesh so I can fit through.

  I jump out through the window and hit the ground. While it hurts, man, it’s better than the alternative. I stay on my side and breathe in and out slowly, crawling straight ahead to get away from the building. The rumbling of a motor comes up before it cuts off and heavy footsteps are hitting the pavement, growing closer with each step.

  “Fern, fuck.” Runes’s deep voice hits me like a ton of bricks. He rushes up to my side and, out of instinct, grabs my arms, but I scream the second his hands touch me. I’m hot all over. Everything is burning. It’s worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. “Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck.”
Runes fishes out his phone and calls 9-1-1. I’m listening the entire time he’s on the line with them, telling them to get her first, that I’m hurt really bad.

  “F-fuck,” I groan in complete agony and look up at him.

  The look of sadness crossing his face kills me.

  “We’re gonna get you help, baby. I promise. You just gotta stay with me until the medics arrive, alright?”

  “Mhm,” I groan out. Reaching for his hand, I squeeze it while my body is aching all over.

  Sirens come in from the distance, and tears slip from the corner of my eyes. Thank goodness they’re here. I don’t know how much longer I can handle this pain.

  Chapter One

  Runes

  Present Day . . .

  Sitting at the bar of our new satellite clubhouse, I look around. When we first moved here a while back, I found this place right on the edge of town. To make this all happen so quickly, the brothers and I put our hands together and did all the hard work ourselves. While it was work, we’re all glad we did it. The place looks fuckin’ amazin’ if you ask us.

  Each of us has our own room here at the clubhouse, with private bathrooms down one hall. There’s another hall for the hóras. They’re what we call the clubwhores who want to stick around for us to use at free will.

  When the Raiders of Valhalla MC first formed, a few words were to be used from old Norse. One of them is hóra. Another is minn, which means mine. Minn has only been used recently, and it’s when Fenrir claimed his ol’ lady, Charm. There’re a few others, but the one that gets used the most is kirkja. We use it when we’re calling for church.

  I never expected us to have a satellite clubhouse, but when Amanda, the mother of Fenrir’s kids, died, everything changed. She left three kids behind, so we needed to settle down. There was no way I’d let my VP take on being a single parent without his brothers supporting him.

  The club voted on what we were going to do, and we decided to do this. Now, it doesn’t mean what we’ve done is flawless. There are times when several of the brothers will be out on the road. They’ll be gone for months at a time, but they’ll have a place to come back to. No one’s gone out yet since we’ve all been busy getting this place finished.

  The main room is massive, with a wall on the far side painted with our logo on it. The bar is long and curves at one end. Throughout the room, there’s a lounging area, tables scattered around, a stereo system, three pool tables, and two dartboards.

  Our clubhouse turned out better than expected. If you ask me, the best part is the room we meet in for kirkja. It’s large enough for us to all fit and not crowd each other. We’ve been to some clubhouses that have us packed in like sardines, I sure as hell didn’t want that. The table was built and designed by Magnus, one of our patched members, who’s great at working with wood. He carves sculptures in his free time, which is where we’ve gotten many of our pieces from. The clubhouse is riddled with wooden sculptures of Odin, Thor, Freyja, and many other Norse gods and goddesses.

  Those aren’t the only things Magnus has created for us. He built the bar as well, carving knarrs into the outer side of it.

  You would think that the place will be opened to the public with the way it’s set up, but nope, it’s all for our personal enjoyment.

  Although we made this decision after what happened to Amanda, it doesn’t bother me to be closer to my son, Torsten. He’s seventeen and lives with his mom in Georgia.

  When I told him about us setting up the satellite clubhouse, he all but drove down to Tallahassee every chance he got. He asked about moving in with me, but the clubhouse wasn’t ready, and I didn’t have a house yet.

  Something about the way he asked rubbed me the wrong way. I just haven’t had a chance to really talk to him about it. He and I have always had a bond. In fact, all of us who have kids we left behind have a special type of bond. We surely didn’t abandon our kids, given they’ve been in the care of their very capable mothers. Still, it’s not easy leavin’ your kin. We make the best of it. One way we do is by keepin’ up with them by talking to them daily or playing on the Switch with them. Fortnite is one of the popular games we’ve all been playing. Here recently, though, I’ve been on the Xbox playing Call of Duty with my kid. I go over to Fenrir’s and get on his boy’s Xbox when I can.

  Sipping on my beer, I turn as the outside door creaks open. Most of my brothers are getting ready to go out to one of the local bars we’ve been talking about buying. The owner of the bar wants to sell, and the club could use the revenue. I’ve seen the books myself. The bar is in the green and stays that way, which is why the owner is askin’ such a steep price. I want to buy it, but I have to weigh the pros and cons. It would help us by having a legit business or two to produce clean money.

  Looking at the door, I find Torsten walkin’ in. The way he’s lookin’ right now tells me something definitely isn’t right.

  “What’s going on, Tor?” I ask, using the nickname he’s had since he was a small boy.

  “I need to stay here, Dad. Please. I can’t go back there. I can’t do it anymore. Don’t make me go back to living with Mom,” Tor rasps, tears pricking his eyes. This kid never cries and for him to be doing it right now breaks my fuckin’ heart. Whatever is going on is bad, and I need to get to the bottom of it.

  “Sit,” I tell him, pointing at the stool next to me. Tor sits, and I motion to Geirolf, the prospect handling the bar, to get my kid a drink. Normally I wouldn’t let him drink, but today shit’s tense. Tor knows my rule, but I’m breakin’ it for him. Typically, he’d need to be over the age of eighteen before I’d allow him to drink here at the clubhouse. I only have the rule because growing up, I had a friend who ended up in a bad situation. He had his own truck run him over after backing it out of the ditch he drove into. I didn’t want him to do anything stupid and end up dead.

  Geirolf sets a beer in front of Tor. “Thanks,” my son mutters. The prospect nods and heads to the other end of the bar.

  “Tell me,” I state firmly, ordering Torsten to tell me what’s going on.

  Tor starts talking, and with each word, my vision blurs. Evidently, his mother has been neglecting our child in the worst of ways. She’s been selling Torsten’s body, no better than a trafficker if you ask me. They’re the worst type of people.

  He continues to tell me she allows women to use him as they please. This last time was the worst. His mother tied him to the bed after slipping something in his drink. She fuckin’ drugged our kid. The bitch waited until the drugs wore off and allowed two women to rape him. Fuck, thinkin’ about all this makes me want to wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze until she can no longer breathe. It takes everything in me not to get on my bike and find the bitches who dared to touch my son. My child. He’s seventeen fuckin’ years old, for God’s sake.

  If I were to do that, though, I would end up in prison for multiple murders. No, I need to do this the smart way. If I don’t, my kid will be the one who ends up suffering even more.

  I won’t allow any more misery to happen to him.

  Staring at my son, I pull out my phone from my pocket. I only look away from Torsten long enough to dial the club’s lawyer. We hired her last week on retainer.

  Torsten is never going to go back there, and that bitch will be lucky enough to live to see another day. I won’t allow his mother to hurt him again.

  Never again, and if she tries, she’ll have to go through me.

  Chapter Two

  Fern

  Glancing in the mirror is the worst part of my day. As I stare at my broken reflection, the day of the fire comes to the forefront of my mind. I’d love nothing more than to put it behind me, but when you’re scarred for the rest of your life, it isn’t so easy.

  I press the nozzle on the moisturizer and white lotion comes onto my hand. I rub my hands together and then proceed to cover my face, neck, and collarbone area. I’m in so many Facebook groups where they tell you to constantly keep your skin hydrated, how it�
��ll help the healing process, but I haven’t seen a difference. It’s only been two months, but I should be seeing something by now, shouldn’t I?

  Ugh, I shake my thoughts and proceed to put on color-correcting concealer like it’ll actually help the pigmentation in my skin. Next is foundation and then concealer. Every day is like the next, where I spend an hour with concealer trying to cover up what I know I can’t. I slam my fist against the mirror, surprised it hasn’t broken by this point, and clench my jaw in frustration.

  Picking up my brush, I give myself a side part and pull it off to the side, covering the left side of my face. It’s the worst part, the part everyone can tell was damaged. Sure, my left shoulder and arm are also marred, but it’s not as bad as my face. From just below my eye to my mid-neck, it’s . . . disgusting. I hate the way I look, and there’s nothing I can do about it. If I was an asshole, I could sue, but who would I be suing? Charm and me? No. It would be so stupid, and I can’t afford the reconstruction surgeries that’ve been recommended for me. Maybe one day I’ll be able to, but I’m not holding my breath.

  I told Charm I’d go out with her today, but it’s going to be a lie. There’s no way I’m going out, not looking like this.

  I grab my phone from the corner of the sink and open up my messages.