Lock and Load: A Demented Sons MC Texas Novel

by Kristine Allen

  He snorted in disbelief. “Honey, the only way that asshole is ever gonna leave you alone is if he’s six-foot under. So you’re saying there’s no chance? For me and you, I mean.” His actions made him look like a little boy as he fiddled with the edge of his T-shirt. He was definitely a grown-ass man, but unfortunately, I didn’t feel anything but friendship toward him.

  “No,” I sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged and plastered a broad grin across his face. “Well, you can’t blame a guy for tryin’.”

  “I—” That was as far as I got before Gunny was at the door.

  “Soap. At the table. Now.”

  Jumping up to one foot, he leaned over to scoop up his crutches and raced from the small room as fast as he could.

  I’d learned they wouldn’t let me in, but I couldn’t help but follow. A thick arm shot out to bar me from getting close to the room, and I looked up into my uncle’s eyes.

  “Uncle Carlisle, what’s going on? Please.” No matter how hard I tried, my lungs wouldn’t inflate. The inability to bring oxygen into my body was making me dizzy. “Uncle Carlisle?”

  His head bowed and his eyes closed. “We need to wait until they’re done.”

  “Why aren’t you in there?” I clutched at his shirt. “It’s Matlock, isn’t it? Is it bad?”

  When he didn’t answer, panic closed in on me. “Is it?” I shouted.

  “Yeah, Blackbird. It is.”

  One hand clutched his shirt tighter as the other covered my mouth. His bear-like arms wrapped around me as I fought to inhale. It hurt so bad. What if he was dead? I couldn’t handle it if he had died because of my shitty taste in men. It wasn’t fair.

  “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go sit down and wait for them.” He led me over into the kitchen, where Aunt Jean was cooking massive amounts of enchiladas for everyone. He had me sit at the huge table in the giant kitchen.

  It made me feel small, minuscule, insignificant.

  My aunt slid the last pan in the industrial oven and sat next to me. “Raiven, honey”—she twined her fingers with mine—“talk to me.”

  I cast a nervous glance at my uncle.

  “I’m going to see if they’re about done.” He rushed out of the room as if emotions might actually do him harm. I almost laughed.

  Actually, I did, but it slipped into a sob.

  “It’s not your fault. You did what you needed to do in order to get Presley out of there. Regardless of how this turns out, I know he’ll appreciate that his little girl is safe.” My aunt thought she was being helpful, but she had no idea my emotions were way more tangled than she could’ve imagined.

  All I could do was shake my head as I held my bottom lip tight in my teeth.

  After being such a fool for Stefano and letting him dupe me, I couldn’t believe that I so easily fell into bed with Matlock. Who the hell was I kidding, I didn’t just fall in to bed with him, I had feelings for him. I must be a complete idiot, because, like I’d told myself a million times, I barely knew him.

  As if my every thought had broadcast across my face, my aunt narrowed her eyes and studied me.

  “Raiven? Please don’t tell me you fell for that boy.”

  That boy. He was so far from being a boy, it wasn’t even funny.

  Shoulders slumped, I rested my elbows on the table and balanced my head on my fingertips.

  “I honestly don’t know. He was sweet. With both me and his daughter. I’d been prepared to hate him. Then I tried to get him to leave me behind to find my own way. If it wasn’t for me, he’d be here with his little girl.” A tear slipped free and rolled down my cheek before I wiped it away.

  “Oh, honey.” She shook her head. “Even if he makes it, he’s never going to return your feelings. He was so damaged by the loss of Presley’s mom that he locked that heart of his up tight. If I didn’t see how he was with that girl of his, I’d wonder if he had one left.”

  “You’re wrong,” I argued, knowing I was being stupid, because I didn’t really know that.

  Pity swam in her eyes as she huffed and pulled me into her arms. I couldn’t hold it together after that. I broke. Tears poured, and I cried my heart out because I knew whatever was going on wasn’t good.

  I couldn’t have said how long we waited, but the whole time, my aunt held me and gently rocked me until my sobs became shaky sniffles.

  Smoke, Styx, Gunny, Joker, and Soap came in, then a few more poured into the room but I’d lost track of who was there because I was focused on Smoke. He stood in the doorway and stared at me with an unreadable expression.

  “Tell me,” I demanded, then snuffled in an unladylike manner.

  “The Demon Runners had Lock. The woman who called said they had her save his life.” For a brief moment, relief settled in my bones. His next words washed it away. “Lock told her to call Snow. She thinks they’re turning him over to some guy today or tomorrow. It sounds like Stefano.”

  My gasp echoed through the quiet room. I couldn’t quit shaking my head

  “Nooooooooooooo!” I don’t know if I was actually screaming or if it was only in my head.

  My body rocked, and I began to mentally disintegrate.

  Someone scooped me up and carried me to the room I’d been sharing with Presley. When they laid me on the bed, I was shaking so violently that I wondered if I was having a seizure. Thick, strong arms wrapped around and held me from behind.

  “Shhhhh.” My mind barely comprehended it was Gunny who held me with his forehead pressed to the back of my neck. “We’re gonna get him back.”

  The problem was, they didn’t know Stefano like I did.

  “Hysteria”—Def Leppard

  I’d lost track of how many days I’d been at Stefano’s mercy. Not that I’d met him yet.

  The black box that had become my normal was devoid of light, sound, or any belongings. Time didn’t exist in there.

  At first, I’d screamed and succumbed to panic. Waking up to pitch-black was akin to being buried alive. Then I’d centered myself and walked around like a blind man.

  A weak as fuck blind man.

  The room I was in was approximately eight feet square, if I’d paced it right. Concrete floor, textured metal walls and ceiling. The ceiling was barely over my head. If I had to guess, I’d say it was an old cooler with the inner release removed.

  No furniture, no bathroom.

  Once I’d walked the perimeter with my fingertips trailing the wall, I had to sit. I was exhausted from that little bit of exertion. I closed my eyes to fool myself into thinking it was only dark because I had my lids snapped shut tight.

  Amazingly enough, the scalpel was still in the back of my underwear band. I’d taken it out and rested it flat against the wall next to the door where I hoped they wouldn’t notice. It was a chance, but I had nowhere else to hide it, and it sure as hell wasn’t going up my ass.

  Every so often, the door cracked, blinding me with the splinter of light, and food was thrown in at me. Since I had no sense of time, I had no idea how often that was, only that I was starving by the time they finally fed me.

  I’d been fed three times. I was assuming they were feeding me once a day.

  Thanks to my exhaustion from healing and minimal nutrition, I fell asleep curled up on the cold, hard floor. Of course, like most nights—if it was even night—I woke from a nightmare.

  Heart racing, hands shaking, I did my best to control my breathing, but I sucked at it. Putting my head between my knees, I sat up, leaning against the wall. My chest wound was aching like a motherfucker.

  Trying to calm myself, I imagined Presley’s smiling face in my mind.

  Images of her as she’d grown flashed through my head, until suddenly the images included Raiven. It wasn’t lost on me that the night we’d slept together I hadn’t had a single nightmare. It may have been coincidence, but I hadn’t slept that well in years.

  My head fell back to the wall.

  The thought of never seeing them again was f
ucking with my head worse than the dark.

  Seconds rolled into minutes, rolled into hours in my dark void, and I slept on and off. I also tried to do some sit-ups and push-ups, but it hurt so fucking bad and I was so weak. When I felt dampness on my chest over my wound, I knew I’d overdone it.

  Out of breath, I lay flat on the floor. The room stank. Whether from my lack of hygiene options, what had been in there before me, or a combination of the two, I didn’t know.

  I was on the verge of dozing again when I heard a faint scraping and light flooded the room, temporarily blinding me as usual. This time was different though, because the door stayed open. My arms instinctively flew to cover my eyes, and the movement made me groan.

  “Get up.” The voice echoed in the small area.

  When I didn’t move fast enough, someone grabbed me by my injured arm and jerked me upright. My other hand shot out and grabbed him by the throat as I roared in pain, and my eyes began to adjust.

  The whole time I wavered on my feet.

  “Let him go!” The unmistakable cold of the end of a pistol barrel pressed to my temple.

  Blinking rapidly, I let go of the neck I’d wanted to snap and jerked my arm free. The movement almost caused me to fall over. I also didn’t know how long it had been since my body had any fucking food, because I was starving.

  “Put those fucking cuffs on him! I told you to do it before you got him up, you stupid fucker!” After the one guy shouted at the other, they bitched back and forth.

  The two assholes shoved and dragged me down a short hall, then through a door. Trying to catalog my surroundings, I made quick glances around. We seemed to be in an old slaughterhouse, and I didn’t have to be a fucking genius to know that didn’t bode well.

  A lone chair was in the middle of the vast area. Broken windows high on the walls let streams of sunlight in. Dirt and God knew what else coated everything around us.

  “Sit.” They shoved me toward the chair. It went against my natural instincts to do anything they said, but I was exhausted. So I sat.

  They didn’t speak to me anymore. After the complete silence of the dark room, even though I didn’t like them at all, I was dying for conversation of any kind.

  I was also feeling like a snarky fucker by then.

  “Well, this is fun, boys, but if we’re playing musical chairs, we need another chair. Oh, and some music. Just sayin’. Unless we’re gonna discuss the weather?” I grinned.

  “Shut the fuck up,” the Igor-looking motherfucker said. The other guy was pretty nondescript, other than being bald, and didn’t answer me. He just glared and told the other guy to tape my ankles to the chair legs.

  I sighed dramatically. “Well, don’t expect your social media accounts to explode if all your parties are like this. Don’t you think the abandoned factory is an overdone theme?”

  The sound of a door opening and closing echoed through the high-ceilinged building. It was followed directly by the sound of hard-soled shoes and at least one other set of feet hitting the concrete floors behind me.

  Turning my head to look over my shoulder, I saw two guys. A dark-haired pretty boy in a fancy suit who looked vaguely familiar, and one of the last fucking people I wanted to see.

  Viper.

  President of the Demon Runners in Omaha. What the fuck was he doing there?

  “Well, look, the party is growing. You may be redeemed after all. Except you still need some tunes. Igor, Baldy? Do you know your two new guests? Because you may want to reconsider your guest list.” Staying sarcastically cheerful was the only way I fought trying to break loose from the fucking chair and getting my ass beat.

  Evidently Viper didn’t appreciate my humor, because he caught me with an uppercut that sent my chair back on two legs. How I didn’t fall over backward, I have no idea.

  Turning my head to the side, I spit blood on the floor. “Well, good to see you too.”

  When he lunged toward me, the pretty boy I assumed was Stefano placed a hand to his chest. “Viper, enough.”

  “That’s right, Viper. Be a good little pet.” My mouth wouldn’t stop even as it filled with blood again. I spit it toward his boots.

  Viper’s nostrils flared, and a vein pulsed in his forehead as he growled.

  Stefano’s dark eyes bored into me as the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Mouthy, aren’t you?”

  “What the fuck do you want?” I was tired of playing games. My stomach was growling and possibly digesting itself, I hurt, I was pissed, and I hated being trussed up and feeling helpless.

  Like a cocky fucker, he leaned over, rested his hands on the knees of his fancy, dark suit pants, and tipped his head. Narrowed eyes studied me.

  “All I want from you is where she is.” His brows cocked, and he waited as if I would spill national secrets because he demanded it.

  Instead, I played dumb.

  “Where who is?” I drawled.

  The condescending smile he gave me should have been a warning.

  I was not prepared for the single finger he shoved into my chest wound.

  Clenching my teeth, I fought to hold my shit together. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to me.

  By the time thick warmth ran down my chest, it was too much, and I screamed. He might as well have shoved a hot poker in my chest cavity.

  “See, Viper? There are easier ways of getting to someone than busting up your knuckles.” His tone was cold, calculating, and twisted as a motherfucker. What the hell had Raiven seen in this fuck?

  “Now. Shall we start over? Where. Is. She?” He gave me a serene smile.

  “Fuck. You,” I gasped out.

  Grabbing me by the hair, he jerked my head back until I swore my neck would snap. Then he got up in my face. Eyes so dark they looked black bored into me. I’d seen soulless people before, and this man was one. Again, I wondered how he’d fooled Raiven, because she was no idiot. Then again, snakes like him could be deceiving when they wanted to be. With me, he had nothing to hide.

  By the time he was done with me that day, I hadn’t given him anything. I could tell Viper and his guy I’d caught lurking in the corner of the building wanted a part of me. Stefano had made it very clear that I was his until he got his information and then Viper could have me.

  I still didn’t know what Viper’s beef with me specifically was.

  “Enjoy your dinner.” Igor shoved me into my cell that I’d learned actually was an old walk-in cooler. Weak and in agony, I fell to my hands and knees. He tossed a sandwich in on the floor. It fell apart and scattered. Then he threw in a bottle of water, hitting me in the back with it.

  “I wouldn’t even fucking feed him if it was me,” muttered Baldy.

  “Stefano wants him to last long enough to get what he wants out of him, so he eats enough to keep him alive.” The dickwad I’d dubbed Igor laughed.

  I didn’t know if I’d get out of there alive, but if I did, I’d never forget their faces. Fucking assholes.

  Their cackling and the light ended as they slammed the door.

  So goddamn hungry I didn’t care, I blindly searched for every fucking piece of food on that floor. Then I sipped the water, wincing as I raised my arm. Unsure how long I’d be in there, I wanted to save some.

  My chest wound was killing me, and the coughing I’d done from Stefano’s version of waterboarding wasn’t helping. There was going to be a special place in hell for that motherfucker too.

  If I had my way, I’d be the one to send every fucking one of them there.

  “Good Day to Die”—Godsmack

  “I’ve missed you so fucking much.” His lips crashed into mine as his hands fisted my hair. I’d missed everything about him, and it was insane. The smell of him, his taste, his hands on my skin. I’d take it all.

  Teeth grabbed at my bottom lip as he broke from the kiss. It was as if separating was painful.

  My hands slipped up under the back of his shirt, nails skimming over each flexing musc
le. They traced and memorized every curve, dip, and movement.

  It wasn’t long before our hands roamed, clutched, and ripped at our clothes. My shirt went flying, and my bra went sailing.

  One nipple, then the other was pulled into his mouth. He tugged on my nipple piercings as my back was pressed to the cool wall. His tongue laved my chest while his fingers slipped into the waistband of my jeans and under the lace of my panties.

  “So wet.” The words caused his breath to blow across my nipples, and they tightened in anticipation, begging for his warm mouth to return.

  His fingers barely dipped into my core, teasing me as I pulled him back to my chest. Laughing, he broke away. Strong arms hefted me up until my clit rubbed on his hardened cock.

  Even wrapping my legs tight around him, the layers between us were aggravating, and I tried to unfasten his pants. The need for him to be buried deep inside me was driving me fucking crazy.

  “Raiven.” The voice was interrupting my time with Lock, so I ignored it.

  When my shoulder was shaken and the image and feel of Matlock disintegrated into dreamland, I was pissed.

  “Dammit,” I whined, not wanting to wake up.

  “Shhh, you’ll wake Presley.”

  At the mention of the little girl of my heart, I jolted awake. Sitting up in bed, eyes wide, my heart raced. Searching her toddler bed against the wall, I saw her cuddled up with her stuffed dragon. Knowing she was safe, I let out my worried breath.

  Blinking rapidly, I wrinkled my nose and yawned. That’s when I realized it was Styx who’d woken me.

  “What are you doing? What time is it?” If Presley was still sleeping, it was early.

  “Real fucking early. Get dressed and come to Smoke’s office.” He was vague and looked angry.

  “Okay.” Not sure what I could’ve done wrong, I climbed out of bed as Styx softly closed the door.