Havoc- Reapers MC Boxset

by Elizabeth Knox

  I yank out Boog’s credit card from the pocket of my jean shorts. “Boog gave me his card.”

  “I’ll have to owe him one. Damon didn’t give me shit.

  C’mon, let’s go find some good deals.” Kat and I walk through the store and each pick out some furniture for our houses. We even both make sure to grab some bar stools for the islands that are in our kitchens. But, I can’t forget the most important thing of all – Boog’s leather couch.

  There’s a massive variety in the store with all sorts of colors and shapes, but my eyes land on the most gorgeous light purple, leather couch. I’m sure Boog will kill me for buying it, but there’s no way I’m shoving another bland stone-colored object in that house. We need to liven it up a little bit. “You’re really gonna get this one?” Kat laughs, standing right beside me. “I can’t blame you. It’s a nice color. I bet you Boog won’t like it though. Green and purple clash.”

  “No, they don’t. The Hulk is green and he wears purple shorts.” I point out, catching how she slyly jabs at Boog being green. She thinks she’s so funny, making her snot jokes.

  “True. I know it’s not any of my business, but are you ever gonna tell us what happened to you? I’m late to the party when it comes to your past shit, but if you ever need to talk to anyone about it, just know I’m here.” I won’t say that I know Kat very well, but I do know enough about her to know that she’s being sincere in what she’s saying to me. If there’s anyone that can somewhat understand what I’ve been through, it’s her. Part of me hopes that because of our shared experiences, we’ll have some sort of bond and become even closer friends. Especially since there aren’t many women who came down here. It makes me think we’ll have clubwhores lurking around pretty soon, and no one likes them. The ones back in Montana weren’t too bad though, but that’s only because they know their place.

  “Thanks. If I do, it’ll be over a strong drink and lots of crappy food.”

  Kat tosses her head back and laughs, “There’s nothing I like more than digging into comfort food when I’m talking about tough crap. We’ll have to make some margaritas, or grab some hard ciders.”

  “Yeah, that sounds nice.” I comment, smiling. I think that this is the start to a blossoming friendship. “We’d better get the furniture order in and then go off to the grocery store. I want to get back home soon. Being out here with what just happened, well, it kinda freaks me out a bit.”

  “Oh, I don’t blame ya.” She replies, “You’re right. Let’s get outta here and go over to the grocery store. It looks like we have a decent bit of cooking to do for tomorrow anyway.” I know I’m hiding it very well, but being out here is doing more than just freaking me out. It’s terrifying me to my core. Ricardo knows that I’m alive, and I just have to pray that motherfucker died. Or else, I’m toast.

  Chapter 11

  IF YOU NEED VIOLENCE TO ENFORCE YOUR IDEAS, YOUR IDEAS ARE WORTHLESS.

  -HEALTHYPLACE.COM

  Booger

  The past two hours we’ve been in the newly dubbed club-house talking about the issues we know are at hand. I gave Damon the lengthy version of what happened when Camila and I were at that stupid fucking hotel, telling him any small detail that I could remember. I even went into how terrified Camila was, or rather still is.

  “You’ve been here before. What do you know about this gang?” I ask Damon, who’s leaning against the wall.

  He shrugs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I know they were smart enough to stay clear of Vegas when Rage was in control. They’d be smart to stay out of it now. Don’t worry, if they really are the Vibora, I have a way to deal with them.” What the fuck? He has a way to handle these fucking snake worshipers and didn’t say that to begin with.

  “What do you mean ‘deal’ with them?” I question.

  Damon wasn’t the one that saw the fear rolling through Camila in waves. I did, and I’m sure as fuck not allowing that to ever happen again. I didn’t only vow to Fist that I’ll protect her, but I did for myself as well. Keeping her from being fearful is within those parameters.

  “Like I said, I’ll deal with them. You don’t need to know the logistics,” Damon moves from the wall and heads towards the door that leads outside. If he thinks that he’s gonna walk outta here without explaining himself, he’s batshit insane. I stalk behind him, grab him by the back of the neck and pull him back towards the middle of the room. He whips around, fury blazing through his eyes. “Do not ever touch me like that again. If you try, I’ll take off your fucking hand, Boog.”

  “How about you tell us what the fuck is going on? I know I’m not the only one here who’s wanting some answers.” I argue, looking to Dixon and Hawk. Dixon stares at Damon while Hawk shrugs. These bastards could be speaking up a little bit more if you ask me.

  “Tellin’ us can’t hurt.” Hawk speaks up, looking to our Prez.

  “It’s none of your business how I’m going to handle this. It’s a family matter.” Damon snaps out, heading back to the door.

  “Thought the club is your family,” Dixon growls. Damon may not know how this hits a nerve with Dixon, but it sure as hell does.

  “The club is, you’re right. But, I’m… fuck.” Damon stops speaking and pulls his cell from his jeans. I watch as he quickly taps away on the screen and presses the phone to his ear. “Hey, yeah, it’s me. I know. I know. Ricardo is on our ass, can you call your little Chihuahua off?” He goes silent for a few moments before his face contorts into pure anger. “Yes, she is. What the fuck are you even talking about?!”

  Shaking his head back and forth, Damon begins to pace the length of the building, muttering curses and angered words into the phone. “You call that motherfucker off us right now or I’ll bring a war to them. Do not test me, uncle. You know I always keep my word, and losing the Vibora wouldn’t be good for you. Imagine all the money you could lose. This is my final warning, get him off our asses now or I’ll slaughter the entire gang.” He throws his phone across the room and it hits the wall at a wistful speed, crashing into a few tiny pieces.

  “I think you’re gonna need a new phone.” I point out, getting a glare in return.

  “No shit, sherlock. I just called my uncle.”

  “Who’s that exactly?” I may be the only one speaking, but everyone else is thinking what I am. They want to know, they’re just too chickenshit to ask.

  “Rafael Ramirez,” Hearing his name makes my blood run cold. That’s the man who caused Camila so much harm, and I know I don’t know the half of it. I just know the little bit of information she’s given me.

  “Do you know what he did?” I ask him the question, even though I don’t even have all the answers to it. I just try not to let my anger overcome me. It’s harder than it looks to not run up to Damon, grab him by the throat and choke him out for speaking to that animal like he’s a human. We should slit his throat and let him bleed out.

  “Obviously not. If she wants to tell me, she can… but things are complicated. From what Fist tells me, the Skulls Renegade already have claim on slaughtering Rafael. He may be my blood, but that doesn’t mean I am his familia. Under-stood, Boog? We do not choose what blood runs through our veins. We are simply born into it and have to accept it.” I know the struggles of not being able to choose your family. If I could choose a family to be born into, maybe it would’ve been the one who understands my life choices and doesn’t outcast me because I don’t fit into their perfect family picture. Shit, I miss them every fucking day and the part that hurts the worst is that it’s their choice.

  I’m not a murderer, a pedophile or rapist. I’m just a man who decided to put a cut on his body versus a cross around his neck, and for that I will be shunned until they’re buried deep in the ground. Even then, I don’t think anyone will ever accept me.

  At this point, I’ve stopped trying to fit in.

  Who can blame me?

  Chapter 12

  You’re afraid to let yourself be happy because you know that it never
lasts.

  -J. B.

  Camila

  MAY YOUR VIBES SHIFT THE WHOLE DAMN FREQUENCY OF THE ROOM YOU WALK IN.

  -ANONYMOUS

  Camila

  Kat and I slaved away in the kitchen of the clubhouse for a good couple of hours today, cooking up a storm. We chose some easy options, setting them out buffet style so everyone could come and help themselves. Casseroles, burgers and hotdogs. It’s funny, I never liked any of these foods very much until I was with the Reapers. Nowadays I know how to slam down a chili cheese dog.

  “Did Damon tell you who’s gonna be staying in the trailer with you yet?” I shake my head at Kat’s question, and wait for her to continue. “We’re mixing up Brotherhood and the Reapers, so you two will have Cobra as a roomie.” Cobra is one of the Brotherhood’s full patched members. I haven’t spoken to him much, but I have witnessed how he speaks and acts around the other brothers. He’s one of those who’s very sarcastic and witty. Basically, he’s a complete smartass. I just hope there won’t be any problems with Cobra and Boog. Our trailer isn’t the biggest thing in the world, but at least we both have a bit of space from one another. I imagine it would’ve been awkward if the bedrooms were side by side.

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see how it goes.” I shrug. A long time ago, I used to be the type of girl that would worry over every little thing. Going through what I did rid me of that worry, and the anxiety that came along with it. Now, I just go with the flow and accept that whatever will be, will be.

  “You’ll be fine. I told Damon that those two would prob-ably get along. I don’t know either of them very well, but I do get the hunch that Boog and Cobra both have very similar back stories. Seems like they have the same sense of humor too, so I’m sure that will help make things less awkward at first. Oh, what did Boog say about the couch?” Kat snickers at the last bit, and suddenly I remember the beautiful purple couch I picked out just yesterday.

  “Delivery has been delayed another day. We’re getting the couch and a few other bigger things tomorrow. I think the dressers and bedside tables are coming, plus the mattress and bed frame. I know I’m probably forgetting a few other things too.”

  “It’s so weird how our stuff got here today, but yours has to wait ‘til tomorrow. Are you guys comfortable on the air mattress?”

  “Eh, we’re managing. It’s not the worst place I’ve slept before.”

  “I imagine you and I have had to sleep in some pretty fucked up places.” Kat mutters lowly, her voice goes to a dark place that only I can truly understand. Others here may know she’s been through a lot. It’s just one thing to know and another thing to experience it.

  “Weren’t you the one that said we’d need to talk about this over a drink?” I mention, knowing very well Kat did. I want to laugh, but I don’t. Instead, I hold it in, not entirely sure why I think it’s hysterical that we’d never choose to talk about our pasts sober. A drink is a necessity when it comes to this.

  We’re standing near the side of the kitchen and I follow Kat as we walk outside, and she leads me to her trailer. It must be nice to be her and Damon, getting an entire place to themselves. But privacy is a luxury when you’re part of the club, always seeming like everyone knows your business. She walks up a couple steps, opens the door and I follow her into a trailer that looks just like ours. It’s the same, an exact replica, but the furniture that she chose makes it look like it’s from a different era. She grabbed big, gaudy furniture that is definitely something who wants to be comfortable would choose. I prefer a smaller couch, opposed to a ginormous one that takes up too much space. “Follow me, I hid the booze under the sink.”

  “No such thing as hiding booze when you told me where it is,” I laugh, catching her rolling her eyes at me in response. She walks over to the sink, bends down and opens the cabi-net, yanking out a bottle of tequila. Now we’re talking. Kat unscrews the top and takes a swig, then hands the bottle to me and I do the same.

  “I find it interesting that neither of us have talked about our pasts.” I say aloud, surprised by that fact. Both of us were held captive by horrible men, the two of us managing to escape when so many others don’t get the same opportunity. We should count ourselves lucky, but I don’t think luck is the right word when it comes to what we experienced. I’ve noticed the scars on Kat’s body since I’ve been around her. She tries to hide them with the clothes she wears, but when it’s too hot out… well, there’s no hiding it. What she can’t keep hidden is the dark cloud that follows her. She’s one of those girls who are great and acting like everything is peachy. If you ask me, she keeps her darkness hidden because she wants her family to think everything is okay. Personally, I understand that, because I do the same. The only difference is that my family situation is a lot more complicated. God knows where my father is, and Maria is with the Skulls Renegade MC in Tennessee.

  It hurts me so much to be so far from her, but I’ve accepted that it’s the way it has to be until we can be reunited. Fist had to explain to me a long time ago that Rafael is still very much after my sister, and it would be a risk to put us both back together. I didn’t argue with him, because the last thing I ever want to happen is for any harm to come to Maria. She’s the only person on this earth who ever truly under-stands me.

  “Why would we want to speak about them?” Kat asks, taking her hand behind her hair, she moves it around her other shoulder.

  I roll my shoulders from side to side, trying to think of a response that can lighten the mood a bit. This is what I didn’t want to happen, for us to become lost in our own minds, more specifically – our own nightmares. I can see Kat’s already reliving what she’s endured as her eyes go dark, almost making me feel like she’s not in the present with me. “I don’t know. It could be therapeutic.”

  “Huh?” She asks, shaking her head as she comes back into the moment.

  “I was just saying that it could be therapeutic to share our experiences. It’s not like you or I will talk to anyone else about them. I doubt you want Damon to know how fucked in the head you are, just like how I don’t want Boog to know the same about me.”

  Kat cocks her head to the side while grabbing the bottle of tequila and takes a hefty shot back. “You forget he was there with me through a big portion of it. Damon had a front row seat to the Kat-show.”

  “Oh,” I murmur, forgetting that fact. Damon was under-cover with the Demons of Hell MC while Kat was Rage’s prisoner. Only, they didn’t know too much about one another from what I gather. Damon may have known about Kat, but Kat didn’t know a damn thing about him. I pull the bottle out of her hand, sit down on one of her plush lined barstools and take a sip of tequila. “Do you sneak off to therapy or some-thing?” I ask because I’m genuinely curious. No good comes out of keeping all of it bottled up, but I’m not one to talk. I’d be the pot calling the kettle black.

  Kat laughs, and leans her forearms onto the stone island countertop. “No way. Why bother someone else with my shit? It wouldn’t do any good. Plus, I’m not one who enjoys talking to strangers about the shit I’ve been through.”

  I nod, understanding where she’s coming through. “Yeah. The only people who ever understand the type of things we’ve been through are the ones who have had pieces of them taken too.”

  Kat shoots me an expression that tells me she agrees with what I’ve just said. “We lose a lot more than what most think when we experience shit like we have.” She’s not kidding. If we don’t lose our minds, we lose parts of ourselves, and sometimes even pieces.

  There’s no doubt in my mind that we’ve both lost pieces of ourselves. I just hope that we can put them back where they belonged. If not by ourselves, then together.

  Chapter 13

  SO, I CLOSE MY EYES TO OLD ENDS AND OPEN MY HEART TO NEW BEGINNINGS.

  -NICK FREDERICKSON

  Booger

  I wake from my slumber feeling pressure run all over my body. Where I was light and weightless just a few moments ago, n
ow it’s replaced with a heaviness. I move my arms around and open my eyes, trying to figure out where I am. It’s now that I realize I’m on the shitty ass air mattress that Camila and I have had to sleep on. I must’ve drunkenly walked back here last night and faceplanted. I’m surprised the damn thing didn’t pop and we’re not on the floor right now. Thankfully, we’ll be getting our furniture later today. I move my arm to the right and feel nothing beside me which only means one thing. I’ve become more comfortable than the bed. I wrap my arms around her body and pull her up a little higher.

  Her legs wrap around my thighs and she softly mews against my neck. Running my hands up and down her back, she grumbles, pressing her lips further against my skin. I feel wetness running over her bottom lip as she scooches closer and my mind goes to left field, thinking about how sweet it was to kiss her the other night. I’ve found myself thinking about her lips against mine any moment that I can. If I’m not thinking about kissing her, I’m dreaming about the other things I want to do to her.

  A harsh sigh slips from her mouth and she groans, stretching her limbs out across my body. “Ugh, not comfy.” It’s cute hearing her complain, since she’s not that type of woman. I have a feeling that when Camila is tired, she turns into a different person.

  “I know, this thing is shit.” I comment back, tugging her closer. I just want to soothe her, make her feel comfortable enough to get back to sleep. Knowing me, I won’t be getting any more sleep. I’m the type of guy who stays awake once he’s up. Been this way ever since I was a kid. I think it has something to do with me growing up on a farm and always knowing that there’s work to be done. Just can’t seem to kick it out of my system.

  “Motherfucker,” She angrily grumbles, sitting up on top of me. Camila stretches her arms out and yawns, rubbing her hands over her eyes. I try my hardest not to let my dick do the talkin’ right now, but as her pussy rubs on him, he just can’t help but wake up. I watch her face, which is illuminated by the lighting post we have out a few feet away from the trailer. Normally, I think we’ll shut the curtains at night, but I don’t mind watching the way she smiles as she feels my length come alive.