Bouncer (Kings of Carnage Series Book 5)

by Kim Jones

  What about beheaded? Think it’ll be good to see him like that?

  “I’ll see you there!”

  “See you there,” I mutter, but she’s already down the hall and almost to the door.

  I’m too angry to be hurt. Heartbroken or sad. Right now, I want to claw Bouncer’s fucking eyes out for leading me on. But I’ll never win that fight. He’ll just hold me down. Force me to listen to excuses. Then take his belt off and beat me until I came around to his way of thinking.

  He’d never beat you.

  Whatever.

  I hear talking and bolt into the bedroom. Like a coward, I hide out in the closet until the sound of bikes fade into the distance. Then I grab my backpack and what few belongings I have in the bedroom before making the trek to my home in the woods.

  My anger fuels me and I have my whole life packed up and on my back within an hour. I cast one last longing look at what was my life, my home, my happiness, and head out to the main road.

  I catch a ride into town, my thoughts blurring.

  Why would he say that?

  Did he really not care about me?

  Was I missing something?

  No. I heard him. He said he felt sorry for me. And that the guys had mistaken it for him falling in love.

  Was he in denial?

  Confused?

  Unsure?

  Before I know it, I’m back at Four Points. Nobody seems happy about my return. Even Buddy who was the first to greet me with a sack lunch and the last to hug me when I left. Then I realize they don’t recognize me.

  Because you’re not a homeless beggar anymore, you idiot.

  You have a family.

  People who care about you.

  Even if Bouncer doesn’t….

  Something isn’t adding up.

  Bouncer is fucked up, yes. He’s weird and paranoid and has way too much anxiety and he’s a bit of a narcissist and a lot of asshole, but he’s no liar. He might’ve felt sorry for me at one time, but not anymore. Hell, he hated me at one time. Couldn’t stand me. Banned me from the clubhouse and threw me out in the cold. Then nursed me back to health. His guilt might’ve played a part, but that, too, was just in the beginning.

  That motherfucker loves me.

  If he doesn’t, he’ll learn to.

  Whether he wants to or not.

  Twenty-One

  BOUNCER

  “What the fuck do you mean she’s not with you?”

  Talia takes a step back from me. “She said she was riding with you. That she’d never rode a bike before. I thought you knew.”

  “Does it look like I fucking know?!” I roar, hating her flinch, but too caught up in my own head to care beyond that.

  “Back the fuck up, Bouncer,” Jinx’s eyes are deadly. His shades pushed up on his head. “I know you’re upset. But my Ol’ Lady’s not to blame.”

  I run my hand over my head. “I know that.” I meet Talia’s eyes. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

  She rolls her eyes. “In one ear and out the other. I know you’re worried. You should check her place. In the woods.”

  My feet are moving before she’s finished.

  When Talia and the rest of the women showed up without her, I knew immediately something was wrong.

  I didn’t see her after we left our room this morning. I had a few errands to run for the ceremony and then church with my brothers.

  I knew I’d see her tonight.

  Then she wasn’t there.

  Fuck!

  I make it back to the clubhouse in record time. I run through the woods to where her tent is. I told her days ago we needed to pack that shit up because she wasn’t staying there anymore. I’m glad she didn’t. It gives me hope.

  I tell myself she’ll be there. On that shitty cot. The one she slept on in the freezing cold. Getting sick. Because of me.

  But all that’s there is an empty space. Everything is gone. The extension cord left, plugged into nothing.

  I rake a hand through my hair, turning in circles.

  I head back in the direction of the clubhouse at a dead run. My bike is still in the driveway where I barely took the time to kick the stand out before I jumped off earlier.

  I jump back on and rev the engine. Not even bothering to stop as Jinx and North come out of the garage, arms raised in question.

  I speed down the driveway. Not sure where I’m going. Thinking of all the possible places she could be.

  I drive down random streets. Probably scaring the shit out of passersby when I stop to look at each one of them.

  I don’t give a fuck. I need to find her.

  What if she was feeling bad?

  What if she caught a cab to the hospital?

  I disregard that. I made sure she took her medicine. She was better.

  What if she left because of me?

  Maybe I’ve been too rough with her. Maybe I didn’t keep enough distance around the brothers and their Ol’ Ladies. Maybe she needs space.

  But where would she go?

  I think back to the few times she’s given me insight to her life outside the club. The fact she has no family. No friends. Nowhere to call home.

  Home.

  When she talked about four points, she said that was home.

  I run a red light and head in that direction.

  I know where it is, but I’ve avoided that part of town any time I’ve been in the area. During the day it’s a street fair. People sell food. Paintings. Play banjos. Dance on cans. All that shit. But at night, it’s where the homeless camp. Where users go for drugs. Where young girls with nowhere to turn are forced to sell their bodies.

  I look up at the blackening sky and a shiver rakes over me at the thought.

  I pick up speed, risking getting pulled over and not giving one fuck about it.

  I’m forced to slow as I roll into the intersection of four points. It’s prime time for this sector.

  Cars slow to a stop, red lights illuminating as they ease to the curb to satisfy their vice of choice.

  I don’t even know where to start, but I feel in my gut she’s here. So I press on, looking at every face I pass.

  I read signs. Look at store fronts.

  Stores. In four points.

  I remember the guy from the party. The one that made Apple so uncomfortable. More importantly, I remember him saying he had a comic book store in the four points area.

  I made him feel small before I kicked his ass from the clubhouse. I know it’s a good place to start because if he caught sight of Apple here, he may have a point to prove.

  I roll down the street furiously reading the name of every store.

  Bodegas.

  Methadone clinics.

  Churches.

  The Comic Bookstore.

  I roll up on the sidewalk and get off my bike. The sign says closed, but I see light inside. I check the door anyway—locked.

  I run to the back of the building, knowing there is a backway in. There’s a vehicle in the alley. I assume it belongs to the creep.

  I try the handle, but it’s locked. Consequences be damned, I kick the door in.

  The door swings open with force, slamming against the wall behind it.

  There’s loud music coming from the hall. I can hear murmuring mixed with the lyrics, and I don’t know if it’s just because I want to hear it, but one voice sounds female.

  Familiar.

  When I find them, Apple is backed against the wall with something sharp in her hand, using it to fend off the guy closing in on her.

  She looks…different. Stunning and beautiful and—what the fuck?

  I take a quick survey of the room. Two seconds. There’s a camera. Special lighting. A bed. A row of canes. Cuffs. Belts. Paddles. It’s a studio.

  Did this motherfucker dress my woman up to put her in a porno?

  Did she come here willingly?

  When Apple makes eye contact, I have my answer. There’s fear in those big, doe eyes that fades to relief when it registers that
it’s me.

  I’m here, sweetheart.

  I storm up to the man. He follows Apple’s gaze and turns just as I make it to him. My hand closes around his throat and I squeeze, slamming his body against the wall. Listening to the sickening thud of his skull as it punches a hole through the sheetrock.

  He stares at me in fear. That only serves to make me think of how Apple must’ve felt, cornered like an animal. “You fucking touch her?” I ask, my voice cold. My blood colder. My instinct to protect what’s mine stronger than I’ve ever felt it.

  He can’t answer, so I direct my question to Apple. “Tell me what happened, Apple.”

  Her voice is tinged with panic and fear as she relays to me the events. “I was leaving. Going back to the clubhouse. To you. And he-he stopped me in the street. Wouldn’t let me pass. When I turned, he pushed something into my back. Told me it was a gun. He forced me here. When I walked in this room and saw the….”

  “Calm down, baby,” I soothe, coaching her through her story even as I squeeze the throat in my hand tighter. “Take a breath.” I hear her inhale. “Good girl.” The man’s struggles weaken. If she doesn’t hurry, I’ll kill him.

  Take all the time you need, baby.

  “When I saw camera, I panicked. There’s was a letter opener on the shelf, so I grabbed it. Then you showed up”

  “Where’s the gun?”

  “He didn’t have a gun. It was a…” She clears her throat. “A ketchup bottle.”

  Did she say a ketchup bottle?

  I release the man and he falls to the floor, clawing at his neck as he fights to breathe. “You kidnapped my girl with a motherfuckin’ ketchup bottle?” I pull my boot back and kick him in the ribs. The breath he managed to catch escapes again.

  Apple walks over and stands silently for a split second, staring down at him. Then, following my lead, she swings her leg back like she punts for the Patriots and kicks the fuck out him in his other side.

  His breath leaves him in a whoosh before he coughs in pain.

  l reach for Apple, pulling her to me, squeezing her tight. “I thought you were gone.”

  She hugs me back, shaking in my arms. “I almost was.”

  Sirens sound in the distance. I probably triggered the alarm when I kicked the door in. I notice the flashing red light on the camera and know we can’t leave. I’d rather just kill this motherfucker and let him rot in a shallow grave, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life talking to my girl behind steel bars.

  I hold her, shielding her eyes from the man as he vomits on the floor at our feet.

  The cops arrive and we’re separated to give our stories. I keep her in my sight, rushing my words so I can have her back in my arms. We both sign statements. The video surveillance will back up our stories. They release us after asking her multiple times if she needs medical attention. Which she refuses.

  That’s okay. I will take care of her. From now on.

  I usher her outside and turn her to face me. “I know you’re scared. But I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She nods. “I know that.”

  “Will you go somewhere with me?”

  “Anywhere,” she breathes.

  I put her on my bike and drive us the fuck out of this neighborhood.

  I want her to myself. I want peace and privacy to tell her how I feel. To ask her what happened to make her leave.

  I take a short mountain road that leads up to a cliff overlooking Uprising.

  When we stop, she’s the first to get off. I stay seated and pull her to me.

  “Why did you leave?”

  “I heard what you said.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “To the guys. About feeling sorry for me. You don’t have to spare my feelings.”

  I think back to what she’s talking about.

  “I made up some shit to get them off my back about us. I feel a lot of things for you, but sorry isn’t one of them. I needed to buy time, tell you how I felt.”

  Her eyes meet mine in the moonlight.

  “How you feel? You ignore me half the time.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” She shakes her head. “Then what do you want? Because I want you.”

  Her brows furrow.

  “You want me? As what? A secret fuck toy when you come into town?” She crosses her arms over her chest and I pull her closer.

  “I want you for everything. I want you on the back of my bike. I want everyone to know you’re mine. I want you beside me every night. But it doesn’t matter what I want right now.” I make her eyes meet mine. “What do you want?”

  “For one, I don’t want to sit around and miss you for months at a time until you make it back this way.”

  “Then I’ll stay. Or you can come with me. Semantics.” I pull her down to straddle me on the bike. I smooth her hair back from her gorgeous face. “I love you, Apple Seven VanHolland.”

  She wraps her arms around my neck, a smile slowly spreading across that mouth of hers.

  “Told you this was going to happen.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “That you were going to love me.”

  Brat.

  She presses her forehead to mine.

  “You love me? Really?”

  “Really.”

  Her eyes, vulnerable and happy and beautiful lift to mine. “How do you know?”

  I shrug. “I just know.”

  “You could be wrong.”

  “I’m a narcissist. I’m never wrong.”

  She laughs at that. “I love you, too…my beautiful asshole.”

  “Beautiful asshole?”

  Is she fucking serious?

  “Yep. Know how I know?”

  I kiss her hard. With promises made and never broken. Squeezing her ass, I pull her flush against me and grin. I grin. Like an idiot. And give in to her question so she can deliver the punchline she’s probably waited her entire life to say. “Okay. How do you know you love me?”

  She smiles.

  It’s…everything.

  “Because you’re my best friend.”

  I’ll be damned if she didn’t call that, too.

  Epilogue

  BOUNCER

  At the clubhouse I can handle Apple—as much as Apple will allow, anyway.

  I know the lay of the land. I know where all entry and exit points are. And for the most part, I know the people that occupy the space.

  But I asked what she wanted, and she wanted a date.

  In public.

  Where it’s more than impossible to control Apple.

  I hold her hand and she’s nearly pulling us to the door. “You’re going to love it here!”

  I smile. It’s impossible not to smile around her. “Yeah? I think I’ll be the judge of that. Stop going so damn fast.”

  I take a minute to appreciate how she looks as we walk-slash-run.

  Her hair falls like silk over her shoulders. Her jeans tailor to her curves. And—thank fuck—I finally got her to ditch the gloves.

  Tonight, she doesn’t hide behind baggy clothes, or gloves, or unkempt hair. She embraces who she is. Unconcerned with being recognized. And knowing I will keep her safe.

  It should have always been this way, but I’m glad I get to be here to see it now.

  I pull her tight to my side as I open the door.

  “Are you okay? This is a date. You know, meant to be fun?”

  I know she’s right. This is one example of why she is so good for me; she shows me how to laugh and enjoy myself.

  I kiss her head, my hand on the small of her back as we enter..

  Apple lets me do my thing, knows it’s part of what life has made me. She accepts me. Doesn’t expect me to change. She loves who I am.

  And I love who she is.

  She is mine.

  Epilogue

  APPLE

  If I could snap my fingers and change Bouncer, I swear I would.

  He’s always giving this “I love
who you are” speech. “Never change, Apple. You’re perfect.” Then he just stares at me until I say it back.

  So I say it.

  But I lie.

  “We’re not sitting there, either.”

  I roll my eyes at his ridiculousness. This is the fourth time he’s refused to sit somewhere. It’s either boxed in, too close to the front, too close to the side or not near enough exits.

  It’s fucking embarrassing.

  But when the hostess looks like she wants to say something, I glare at her.

  Bouncer might be weird, but he’s mine.

  “We’ll take that table.” He points to a table in a section that is clearly reserved for a party.”

  The hostess doesn’t argue. She just leads us over, tosses the menus on the table and walks away.

  “She was rude,” Bouncer says, rearranging chairs and counting off steps and doing whatever strange shit he does when he’s in public.

  “Would you stop,” I snap. “It’s fucking Olive Garden. Not Bagdad.”

  He pauses his counting and fixes me with a look “You never know. Bad shit can happen anywhere, Apple.”

  “Well, don’t worry, honey. If someone tries to whack you with a breadstick, I’ve got you covered.”

  “Really? You?”

  I stiffen. “Yes me. What? You don’t think I’m capable?”

  He leans in. “You got held up by a goddamn ketchup bottle.”

  “For your information, I wasn’t held up.” I lean back and pretend to study my menu. “I was kidnapped.”

  “Same shit.”

  “It is not the same—”

  “Good evening. Can I start you two off with some wine?”

  Bouncer answers, “No” at the same time I say, “Leave the whole bottle.”

  I win.

  “We talked about this,” he deadpans.

  “It’s our first date. In public. After three months of being shacked up and closed off from society. I need this bottle to get me through your paranoid bullshit. I’m surprised you didn’t frisk the waitress.”

  I take a pull of wine straight from the bottle.