Mayhem: A Reapers MC Boxset

by Elizabeth Knox

  The way she’s starin’ at the clubhouse door with sadness evident in her eyes just makes me wanna say fuck it and leave, but I can’t. My dad made this deal for a reason, and I’ll honor it. If he had a problem with it near the end he would’ve told me. He would’ve said something . . . and shit would’ve been nixed real quick.

  “Prez, you good?” Grim asks lowly from beside me.

  I give him a curt nod, slidin’ my hands in the pockets of my jeans and approach my fiancé. “You hungry or somethin’?”

  She shrugs, tearing herself away from staring at the clubhouse door. “No, but I wouldn’t mind a drink.”

  I chuckle, “Yeah, you and me both. This is your home, tell me where you wanna go.”

  Octavia stares at me blankly, cocking a brow. “You wanna take me out on the town where people keep trying to kill me? That’s really smart.” Her sarcasm almost makes me laugh.

  “You have a valid point.” I mutter, pulling out my phone to request an Uber.

  “I typically do. What are the plans, now that I’m yours and all?”

  “I was tryin’ to get outta here as soon as I could. Have some business to tend to in Las Vegas, so we’ll hop on a flight over there before heading back to Montana.”

  Octavia nods, not saying a word, but I can tell she’s listening to me.

  “Prez, I have a suggestion if you’re open to it.” Grim speaks up.

  I look back to him since he’s standing behind Octavia now. I’m glad he’s takin’ this shit seriously when it comes to her protection. “Why don’t we head to the airport, grab a bite and drink there before we fly to Vegas?”

  You know, it’s not a bad idea. “I knew there was a reason I brought your ass here with me,” I glance down at the app on my phone and see our Uber will be here in a couple minutes. I take another look and realize Octavia doesn’t have any luggage, or even a duffel bag like Grim and I do. “You not bringin’ anything with you, Cinnamon?”

  She must not have even thought about it from the body language I’m gettin’. “No, I . . . I’m not. I’ll grab some stuff when we get to Las Vegas if that’s alright. I have cash, and my debit card. If you wouldn’t mind I’d like to get some of my equipment sent to me, though.”

  “Okay, let’s get one thing straight. You don’t have to ask me permission for shit. You’re your own woman. I’m not your fuckin’ keeper, or some sort of warden.”

  “Thank you. I’ll get Chains to mail me the stuff once I get an address.” Chains. I wonder if that was the fucker she was pawing her hands all over.

  “Mmm,” I grumble while we wait for our compact sized chariot to arrive.

  I had to request an Uber three fuckin’ times before one finally showed their asses up to get us. We headed straight for the airport and luckily for us we were able to grab three tickets for a flight that was leaving in thirty minutes. We made it through TSA and airport security quicker than I ever have back in Montana.

  At the bar, Octavia blew me away when she took back six shots of vodka and then walked over to our gate like it was no big deal. Grim even made a comment about it. I know somethin’s gotta be up, ‘cause people don’t just shoot back that much liquor and seem unphased unless there’s somethin’ seriously wrong. She’s my responsibility now, so I’ll make sure she at least stays safe. Hell, one run in with her family and I could tell just how her father prefers to handle things. Typically, I stay outta family shit, but my father never taught me to let shit like that go down.

  The flight from Los Angeles to Las Vegas didn’t take any time, barely a little more than an hour. It’s the middle of September and we’re walkin’ into the pits of Hell, or at least that’s what it feels like. Back in Montana it’s barely hittin’ the seventies. I’m pretty sure the weather forecast said we’d be in the high sixties all week.

  Grim rented a Hyundai Accent and we packed our two asses in there. Thank God Octavia has a smaller physique than us. Otherwise, the three of us would barely fit in this clown car.

  No one from the club knows we’re on our way, but I wanted it to be this way. If they knew, they could cover some shit up and given the fact they’ve practically been radio silent . . . it doesn’t bode well with me. In my gut I know somethin’ isn’t right.

  Grim leads us up the interstate until we’re just a little bit out of the city. We make a left and pull back down a long lane. On both sides I see trailers, a couple of houses and I can see the construction I gave them approval for a while back has finally started. Comin’ down here makes me feel all sorts of ways. I’m thankful that things are movin’ down here, ‘cause our ultimate goal is to keep my family’s legacy alive. I don’t want everything that my father and uncle built to come crumblin’ down. I want expansion, for the Reapers to become everything they ever imagined.

  Grim pulls in front of the clubhouse and bikes are on both sides of this shitty ass car. The moment I put my hand on the handle of the door I notice Widow’s ass walkin’ out. “Who in the fuck—” The moment he spots me, he shuts his fuckin’ trap.

  “Prez, I didn’t expect you to be showin’ up here.”

  “That was the plan, Widow. Now, care to tell me where Damon is.”

  Widow nods while Grim and Octavia exit the vehicle. “Sure. He’s inside Zane. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

  I follow Widow through the door and he leads me through the main area of the club. Kade and Ivy immediately spot me, and I notice the way they chat amongst each other. I’m sure they’re silently chattering about if he knew I was coming. He didn’t. No one besides Grim knew my plan, and I know for a fact he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone.

  Kade starts to come over, but I hold up my hand. “We’ll catch up later, brother. I promise you.” I say in his direction as I continue to follow Widow. One thing I noticed is how Widow has an officer patch on . . . and I’m pretty damn sure he didn’t have one before.

  Widow taps his knuckles against a door and pushes it open, “Damon, uh—”

  I push directly past Widow and reveal myself to Damon. Not only am I met with a pretty shocking expression, but his office looks like somethin’ that would be in an FBI conference room. Maps of Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico and Mexico are printed out, plastered across every wall. There is some sort of system with red, blue, yellow, and green tacks. Some of them have Post-it notes beside them with writing. Others have photos of a man and a woman.

  My eyes don’t know what to focus on. Fuck, there’s so much in here. But I glance at one of the photographs again and it hits me. That isn’t any woman.

  That’s Amara.

  I keep looking and the puzzle pieces only point to one thing . . . they’re looking for her.

  “What the fuck is going on here?!” I roar out, not caring who hears my fury.

  Chapter Eight

  When I get mad at someone, I’m silent. Because if I speak my mind, shit is gonna get real

  ~ Keep the Plug in the Jug

  Zane

  Damon doesn’t say a fuckin’ word. He stands here with his palms planted on his desk. My guess is he’s trying to figure out what the hell to say. “Don’t even bother lyin’ to me. I’m not blind. I can tell it isn’t good, and boy, do I have the gist or what. So, fill in the fuckin’ blanks. Where is Amara?”

  Damon breathes heavily, nostrils flaring. “I don’t know. Everything I’m findin’ tells me she’s in three places at once . . . which indicates this Lucien motherfucker from the Lucifer’s Heretics MC is fuckin’ with us. He’s got his own tech guy up his sleeve.”

  “What? Lucian . . . isn’t he with the Steele brothers, like their tech dude or whatever?”

  Damon shakes his head, “Yes, that Lucian is. This is another one. Long story short, his father was in the Lucifer’s Heretics MC. His half-brother is Cobra, and this is some sort of fuckin’ revenge scheme.”

  Fury. Rage. Anger. Madness. Ferociousness.

  It all fills my body in this moment.

  How dare they keep this from me.

>   How fucking dare them!

  “What the fuck happened?” I grit out through clenched teeth.

  “I fucked up,” Dixon’s voice fills the room. Turning behind me, I don’t see what I expect to. He’s thinner than the time I last saw him, has lost a decent bit of muscle, and he’s using a walker. “That’s what happened, Zane. I fucked up when I went on a run with Chaz and Amara. I’m the reason Lucien took her, ‘cause I fucked up and forgot to call Damon. If I had, we could’ve had back up . . . and she might not be lost.”

  He’s been in an accident, I can tell that much. “What happened to you?”

  “Lucien slammed a sledgehammer into both hips, shattered them completely. I had a complete hip replacement.” Dixon mutters, soundin’ lost as he says it.

  “I didn’t see Chaz on the way in.” I comment, realizing I should’ve heard his ridiculous laughter from a mile away.

  “He’s at the hospital for his third surgery. Cheyenne and Abbey went with him.” Damon fills me in.

  “Surgery on what?” So many questions and yet so very little answers.

  Instead of Damon answering me, Dixon does. “Lucien went to town on my hips, but he shattered Chaz’s hands. He’s had to get them completely reconstructed. This is only his third surgery . . . and the docs are saying he’ll probably need a few more to get back to anywhere near his function before.”

  “Jesus Christ. You thought it was best to keep this from me, when I could’ve been helping you? What the fuck is going through all of your heads? Why would you act so dumb?! And who in the fuck is Abbey?”

  “She’s my sister,” Dixon replies.

  “I was tryin’ to keep this private so we could sort it out. The entire reason this happened is because of us, and therefore it’s our responsibility.” Damon tries to explain. Little does he know his excuse is bullshit. Rushing up to him, I ball my fist and slam it directly in his gut.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Damon. This club is our family. You know that better than anyone. You fucked up here. You shouldn’t have ever kept this from me. I could’ve been calling friends to try and locate your sister, but because of you we’ve lost precious time. She could be dead by now. Don’t you understand that? She could be dead because of your irresponsibility.”

  Damon hunches over, holding his stomach. But when he looks up to me, it’s like I’m staring at a rabid beast. “You don’t think I know that?! Why do you think I’ve done this?! That I’m not fuckin’ sleepin’? Huh? I will do whatever I have to do. I’m gonna find her, Zane. I’m gonna fuckin’ find her!” I managed a pretty good punch to the gut, but damn, you wouldn’t figure that with the way he’s unleashing his own fury on me.

  Shaking my head, I walk away from Damon and head toward the door. But as I approach Dixon, I notice the VP patch on his cut. “When did this happen?” I question, growling.

  It’s like he’s changed every damn thing about this club, and I’m fuming more and more with every passing moment. “Not long before she went missing. She went behind my back and did somethin’. I was furious and I . . . I took her officer position. She . . . made me feel more rage than I ever have before.”

  Scoffing, “I know the feelin’.”

  Since Dixon is hurt I’m careful to walk passed him and go out to the main part of the club. Grim is sittin’ down next to Octavia on a couch. Meanwhile, I see Widow and Kade chattin’ up with the two of ‘em. “Everythin’ alright?” Grim questions, and damn, I wish he didn’t.

  “Does it look like everythin’s alright, Grim? For fuck’s sake.” I snarl, shootin’ him a look that could kill, I decide it’s best if I head out of the club for a bit and clear my head. The last thing I want to do is allow my fury to take over. Whenever it does, it’s never been good.

  Once I’m back out in the Nevada heat, I take a deep breath and sit out on the picnic table under the tree. There isn’t any way I’d stand in the hot sun. Running my hand over my face, I’m tryin’ to figure out where to go from here.

  It feels like my fuckin’ club is broken.

  God, Dad, I wish you were here.

  Chapter Nine

  “Embrace uncertainty. Some of the most beautiful chapters in our lives won’t have a title until much later.”

  ~ Bob Goff

  Octavia

  “Jesus. Anyone wanna fill me in?” The man who must be Zane’s brother asks. They’re pretty much as spot on as identical can be, minus their slight hair color difference. Zane has a more brunette hair, while this guy’s hair is a tad bit darker.

  “He knows, Kade.” A man appears from the back. He has a thinner frame, with voluminous dark hair and piercing eyes.

  “He knows? Shit. Bet he didn’t take it the best.” Kade replies.

  “No shit,” the new guy comments with a grumble.

  I simply sit back against this couch and watch the shitshow in front of me. I don’t know the details, but I don’t have to. “You have a bar around here?” I ask, looking around. There’s some weird sort of crappy countertop thing toward the back, but I doubt that’s it.

  “Uh, yeah. Who are you?” The snippy dude asks. Quickly scanning my eyes across his cut, I can see he’s the Prez and his name is Damon.

  “Octavia, your soon to be First Lady.” I state, standing up. “Now, if you’d kindly point me in the direction of a drink, I’d be ever so grateful.”

  Damon narrows his eyes and points to the corner of the room, the area I was hoping it wasn’t. “Back there, help yourself.”

  I head over and scour through the shelves and cabinets, looking for anything that might be somewhat good. I see rail, but since I don’t have to pay I’ll go for the good shit. I see a nice bottle of Don Julio and figure it can’t hurt. Wrapping my hand around the neck of the bottle I make my way back over to the group of people. “One of us should go talk to him,” Grim suggests.

  Damon shakes his head, “There’s no use. It won’t make a difference.”

  “It could. He might be brutal, but he’s not inhuman. He’s just pissed about being blindsided, about the secrets.” Kade comes to his brother’s defense.

  “Wow. Sounds like he and I can relate,” I mutter under my breath, but everyone in this part of the room surely heard me.

  “You make a great point. Why don’t you go out there? He won’t hurt you, Octavia. You’re his Cinnamon.” Grim chuckles with a smirk.

  I don’t know whether to laugh at his smartass personality or knock one of his teeth out. “Fine,” I head outside and see he’s sitting on top of a picnic table, leaning against a tree. On the flight over here, I had a bit of time to think about things.

  Zane didn’t have to interfere when my father was going to slap the shit out of me in front of the club. He doesn’t have to be nice, or tell me I have my own freedom, that I’m my own woman or any of that. He could be making my life a prison, but he isn’t.

  He’s just as trapped as I am in this scenario. He was maybe a toddler when our fathers made this agreement.

  “The world just wants to fuck with us, doesn’t it?” I question, taking a seat on the end of the table. Opening the bottle of tequila, I take a swig and look out onto the desert. It’s getting closer to sunset and a mixture of oranges and yellow fill the horizon.

  “You could say that,” Zane’s voice is stressed, or at least I think it is. I don’t know well . . . anything about him besides who he is.

  “I overheard enough to tell they lied to you. It sucks, doesn’t it?” I offer him the bottle, and much to my surprise he takes it, taking a swig back.

  “I tolerate a lot of shit, Octavia, but I’ll tell you here and now. I don’t give leeway to those who betray my trust, even if they’re in my club.” Something about the way he’s speaking strikes fear within me. I don’t know if it’s the way his eyes closed in on me, or the roughness that took his once soft voice.

  “Sounds like we’re similar. Don’t know if you picked up on what happened earlier, but my family lied to me too. And they could’ve chosen not
to, so I feel you there, buddy.” I run my fingertips back through my burnt orange locks, wishing how things could be different.

  “Yeah, the kid stipulation. I figured as much when I saw your reaction.”

  “Mhm,” I murmur, sticking my hand back out for the alcohol. He passes it back over to me, but I notice the judgement in his eyes. After I take my swig, I ask about it.

  “What’s with the drinkin’?”

  “It dulls the pain,” I tell him, being honest with him. Sometimes booze makes me forget about everything that’s happened, causes me to feel like my sisters are still here, that they’re not gone.

  “Alcohol doesn’t dull it, Octavia. It’s a band-aid for a bigger problem. All it does is postpone it.”

  “Didn’t realize you were a preacher,” I sarcastically respond. My family told me the same thing, so I don’t get what he thinks he’s going to accomplish by saying all this to me.

  “You got me so wrong, Cinnamon. I’m the damn Devil himself. Sinner is my middle name.”

  “Oh?” I respond, rolling my eyes, taking another shot back.

  “Who was that guy from earlier, the one on the street?” Zane’s question catches me off guard, so I turn to face him completely.

  Drawing my brows together, he has to be talking about Chains. “Who, Chains?”

  Zane shrugs his shoulders, “Dunno. The one who said he loved you. He called you O’. You gotta boyfriend or somethin’?”

  I scoff, rolling my eyes. “He was Xia’s.” They didn’t have a label on what they were, but it’s the easiest way to explain it.