Mayhem: A Reapers MC Boxset

by Elizabeth Knox

  “Yes. Since you two have an issue, I think it would be best for him to take lead on helping you get this book out there. If you ask me, you two have some issues you need to work out.”

  Crina’s expression falters and I start to laugh. That is, until I realize we’re going to be stuck with each other. “Fuck. Prez. You can’t be serious. I mean, stick her with one of the prospects.”

  “To be fair, we don’t want to deal with her. Look what she did to Poison.” Jolt walks into the doorway, revealing Poison with blood dripping over her lip, coating her hands and forearms.

  “Jesus Christ! This is one bad bitch.” Cobra cackles, loving this.

  “Allow me to fill you in on what you walked in on, if you’re open to it, for the book of course.” Damon speaks to Crina, who piques interest in what he has to say.

  “Of course. I’ll take all the help I can get.” She says, appearing to pay close attention.

  “This room is where we hold church, which is where the club discusses important issues, and votes on them. It’s a sacred meeting which gives you the reason for such a name. Only full patch members are allowed in church, though some clubs allow prospects in. The Reapers don’t, because a long time ago one of our rats was a prospect and it fucked with the club. Since our national Prez took over, the prospects haven’t been allowed back in. Anyway, before I get sidetracked, church is to never be interrupted, and if it is . . . the person who did it likely gets a bullet between their brows.”

  Crina clears her throat, understanding the importance of what she did. “I apologize profusely, if I had known it was such a huge deal, I would’ve waited to chew Tiny up until after he was out.”

  “It’s quite alright, Crina. I believe we all got quite a chuckle out of your sudden interruption but do me a favor and don’t ever do this again. I’ve given you a warning, and I’ll have no problem havin’ my ol’ lady kick your ass to the curb myself. Is that clear?”

  “Understood. Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  “It’s fine. Now, would you be a peach and go wait for Tiny out by the red-leather loveseat? We’ll be about ten minutes to go over some things, then he’ll be out.”

  Crina nods, and leaves the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  Out of nowhere Damon starts chuckling so hard he’s put his hands on his knees. “Never in my life has that fucking happened, but man, did we all need a good laugh or what.”

  “Whatever you do, please don’t tell her she can’t come back. I need more humor in my life, Prez.” Cobra belts, getting a couple nods of agreement.

  “I’m so fucking annoyed. How does a bitch like that get in here in the first place?!” I snarl.

  “She is Rebel’s friend,” Widow laughs, shrugging his shoulders.

  Yeah, Rebel, the queen of getting her way. I sit back down and wait as Damon starts to speak again, informing the others about Sakura’s problem.

  “I’ll get straight to the point since we have such a spitfire here tonight. Sakura and Chaz were made aware that the software Lucian had running was compromised last week. With that, her father established her mother isn’t alive . . . we think. We don’t know. What we do know is that two plane tickets were purchased. One to Argentina, and a second to Las Vegas in a month.”

  “He coming here?” Boog questions, getting an immediate nod from Damon.

  “We think he is, but of course we won’t know for about twenty-something days. However, we’re gonna prepare for it. I’ve already called Eduardo and he’ll be here in a couple days.”

  “Jesus, this is going to be a clusterfuck.” Widow mentions, bringing his inner thoughts out like we all want to do. Only difference is, we know when not to talk.

  “And here I thought things were going to be quiet for a while,” Dixon chuckles, lightening the mood a bit.

  “Anyone have questions, concerns, requests?” Damon asks the group, standing he walks around the table, giving us all time to think of something.

  “One request. Make sure nothing happens to my girl.” Mouser mentions, “She’s . . . she’s going through so much right now and I can’t fucking bear it. Brothers, I need you to promise me we’re going to protect her. She’s lost so fucking much. She needs to know what she means to us, so, show her if you can. Show her by protecting her.”

  “You don’t need to worry about a thing. Sakura is a Reaper and she always will be.” Damon declares, “And if there’s anything we do right, it’s protecting our people.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sweet as sugar, cold as ice. Hurt me once, I’ll break you twice

  ~ Unknown

  Crina

  I’ve been sitting on this red distressed leather couch for at least fifteen minutes, being watched by the group of men and chick by the makeshift bar. The guy with the almond colored hair is pouring drinks, handing them out to his friends without a care in the world. Meanwhile, the rest of the group seems a little put off by my actions. Especially the bloodied one.

  I think her name’s Poison, but I’ll have to verify that. She must’ve slid her hand against her dreads, because now there’s a faint red in her hair that fades out to a soft pink. She sits on the barstool, clenching her jaw while she taps her fingernails on the top of the bar.

  “You seem a bit annoyed,” I chuckle, speaking directly to her. I’ve never been the type who avoids shit. If you feel a certain way, you’d best just get it out. It’s one of the things my mother hates about me the most— my determination to not avoid issues. It’s much easier if you act like an adult and get them dealt with.

  “No, why would I be annoyed?” She seethes, spitting sarcasm my way.

  I shrug, “‘Cause you didn’t like your buddies witnessing you getting your ass handed to you.”

  Poison slides off her seat and comes charging over. I wonder what she thinks she’s going to accomplish by getting in my face? Maybe it’ll be an ego boost, or maybe she’s only trying to prove herself to her friends. Either way, it won’t be a good experience for her if she dares to put a hand on me again. Though, I thought I made that clear earlier.

  From my right I spot Chaz coming out of the hallway. He sees Poison on her way over to me with a heated look in her eyes and grabs her by the forearm. “What the fuck is going on?” He hisses, looking to Poison and then the group of men.

  “Someone needs to teach this little bitch a lesson on manners,” Poison grits, balling her fists while she tries to tug her arm out of Chaz’s grip.

  Chaz scoffs, nodding his head while he glances over to me. “I don’t think you’re wrong, but you won’t be the one to do it. She’s a friend of Rebel’s, which means no one here harms a hair on her head.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Poison’s eyes widen as she looks to Chaz in complete disbelief.

  He releases her forearm as he speaks. “No, I’m not. Damon’s orders, so don’t fuck around.” Looking back to the group of men, he clears his throat. “All of you fuckers hear that?” The group of them nods or confirms with an ‘mhm’. “Good, now, go make yourselves useful. Clean some bikes, change some oil. Do somethin’ that gets you out of my hair.”

  As he orders, all of them file to the door and exit the clubhouse . . . making me curious to know why he has such authority over them. I dig my hands into my small crossbody purse and grab my phone, unlock it and press the record button. I plan on asking questions starting in this exact moment, and I’ll be damned if I miss something important.

  “Why do they listen to you like that? You’re not their father.” I ask, genuinely curious. It causes me to believe there’s some sort of pecking order considering this small group wasn’t allowed in the church session with the others.

  Chaz shakes his head while he slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “It’s their job. They’re prospects, so they do whatever a full patch or officer tells their asses to do.”

  “Prospect?” What a weird term.

  “Yep. Means they’re like an i
ntern, trying to get themselves a full position at the club, which means a full patch. It’s the only thing that’ll give them leeway, and until they’re a full patch, they can’t order around the other newbies like I just did.” He makes his way over, taking a seat directly across from me on a matching couch. Though, that one doesn’t appear to be as worn as this.

  “So, what do they get for being a prospect?” My question seems warranted, though the way Chaz grimaces tells me he’s frustrated.

  “A place to sleep, food, people who will stand behind them no matter what. The club isn’t some . . . joke or whatever you think it is. It’s a lifestyle, and most importantly, it means we’re all fuckin’ family.”

  I’m getting the feeling he doesn’t want to help me with this, so I have no problem telling him to shove it. “Alright. You know, you don’t have to be the one telling me all this. It’s obvious you’re pissed and don’t want to talk to me, much less look at me.”

  “Lookin’ at you isn’t the problem, but when you open your damn mouth, I want to wrap my hands around your throat.” His statement causes me to gulp, drawing in a deep breath. I don’t know if I took that the wrong way, but it feels like he just said I was pretty, and then admitted he wanted to kill me at the same time.

  Immediately, I shoot up and begin to walk over to where I see a couple of the other guys have sat down. Looking at them, I can see they were in the room with Chaz, or shall I call him Tiny? “I’ll go talk to your friends, who might enjoy my company a bit more.”

  “Sorry, but that isn’t happening. Damon told me to take lead on this project you’re doing, so that’s that.” Chaz says while he’d risen from the couch and managed to get in front of me, spanning his arms out so I can’t even go to the left or right.

  “And you’re doing what he says for what reason?”

  “He’s the Prez, so he makes the rules. All of us report to him. Now you wanna ask some decent questions or what? I’m getting hungry.” Chaz’s stomach begins to growl and I see he isn’t playing around.

  Glancing around the room, I see how everyone looks the same. Rough, rugged, maybe even exhausted. “So, you said the prospects want to join because of having food and shelter . . . so does that mean you all come from really rough lives?”

  “I didn’t say that. You’re twisting my words. Some of us come from the rougher side of the tracks, while others don’t. Shit, come with me. I know a place we can eat that’s about thirty minutes away from here. Plus, I’m bettin’ you’re thinking all of us have deadbeats as parents, am I right?”

  I remain silent because that was my natural assumption.

  “Yeah, come with me. You have a lot of shit to learn and I’d rather not have to be around you for a long time, so I hope you retain shit quickly.” He grumbles, heading for the door.

  “Do you really think I’m stupid?”

  As he gets to the door, he places his hand on the knob and looks back to me, cocking a brow. “It doesn’t really matter to me if you are or not. I just want you out of my hair as quickly as possible.” With that, he pushes his way through the door and I’m left scrambling behind him.

  Well, this field trip should be interesting.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The days that break you are the days that make you

  ~Unknown

  Chaz

  “There’s no fucking way.” Crina’s adamant about not getting on the back of my bike.

  I glance around the area and know exactly whose cars belong to who. And I sure as hell don’t see something she drove out here. “Do you have a grocery getter around here? Is it hidden or something?” I cock a brow, sure that if she drove out here, I would’ve spotted it by now.

  “A what?” She furrows her brow and lifts her lip, confused as hell. It’s almost enough to make me chuckle— almost.

  “Make a mental note, folle. It’s biker lingo for car, a grocery getter.”

  Crina rolls her eyes, not maintaining any eye contact while she runs her hand through her hair. “This thing is a deathtrap and I’m not riding it.”

  “But you’re going to write about it?”

  “Yeah,” She confirms, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  “Well, tell me this. How in the hell do you expect to do that if you’ve never felt the hum of the bike between your legs? Or the air against your skin while you ride into the sunset?”

  Crina scoffs, craning her neck in my direction. “First of all, I have a vibrator for any hum I might need. Secondly, you sound like you could be writing this book, riding off into the sunset.” She imitates me near the end, again, making me want to strangle her.

  While she stands there, I mount my bike, slide my key into the ignition and start her up. Looking back to Crina, she’s gnawing on her fingernails. “Are you gonna get on or not?” I holler over the sound of the engine.

  “What?!” She yells back.

  “Come on! Or are you just a little pussy ass bitch?” I holler, even louder this time.

  The moment her eyes widen and she narrows her eyes, I know she’s heard me loud and clear. She comes straight up to me and pushes my left arm with force, causing me to lose my balance, I land on my ass. Glancing up, I see her smiling as she gets on.

  Fucking, folle.

  I rise, dust myself off and get back on the bike. Turning back to look at her, I make sure to speak loud and clear. “You need to hold on, or you’re gonna go flying.”

  “I’ll be fine!”

  Well, alright . . .

  I hand her Kat’s helmet. She hasn’t been out on a ride with Damon since Luna was born, so I doubt she’ll mind. In the meantime, I slide my helmet on after checking to make sure Crina isn’t going to defy me right now too. Thankfully, she put it on and I’m ready to take off. I kick the stand and we’re on our way.

  At first, I take it slow, riding up the lane and turn onto the back road until she’s a little more comfortable. We might be going thirty now and she’s determined as hell to not hold onto me. On the highway that shit won’t fly, so I speed up to about fifty, causing her to wrap her arms around me like she’s holding on for her life.

  That’s better.

  The sun’s starting to go down and I’m betting within the next hour or so it’ll be completely dark. We’re headed to Boulder City for some killer burgers, and for Crina to see not everyone in the biker life is the product of the way this world can treat us. She has a common misconception, that we’re all babies dumped on the side of the road, drug addict’s kids, and god knows what else.

  Only, I’m not.

  We’re headed to my dad’s restaurant, Boulder’s Burgs. He’s owned it since we all came here to the United States, it being his passion. His father owned a café in the center of Paris, so I believe it’s in the family.

  After another twenty-five minutes we’re here and pulled in my reserved spot. It doesn’t say who it’s reserved for, though, Crina’s eyeing me down while I finish parking my bike. “We can’t park here, Tiny, look.” She points to the sign.

  “Yeah, I see it.” I grumble, taking my keys I slide them in my pants pocket and dismount. I offer her a hand, but she doesn’t take it, leading her to fumble and almost fall. “I tried to help you,” I murmur, unable to believe how bull-headed this woman really is.

  “Okay, let me make this clear. I don’t need your help, and I never will.” Crina’s tone is aggravated, spiking up a little about half-way through her proclamation. Which causes me to believe something is bothering her.

  Before I can respond, she walks away from me toward the restaurant, not even bothering to ask me if this is the right place. Hell, I didn’t tell her jack shit about where we were headed. At least I texted my dad before we left to let him know I’d be coming up, with a friend of the club.

  Crina had no problem pushing her way into the restaurant, disappearing from my view. Taking in a deep breath, I head over to the eight-foot cedar door and push it open. The hostess station is directly in front of me, and one of my dad’
s oldest employees, Desiree, greets me with a huge smile.

  “Charles!”

  “Charles?!” Crina’s reaction causes me to stifle a chuckle.

  Desiree comes from around the station in her button up white shirt and black slacks, pulls me into a hug and presses a kiss on both cheeks. I do the same to her, looking into her bright emerald eyes. “It’s been far too long my friend,” I tell her.

  “I’ll say. What has it been, six months? Your dad has been so upset you haven’t paid him a visit, being so close and all.” She grimaces, chastising me with a wiggling finger.

  “Yes, well, things have been busy.”

  Desiree rolls her eyes, “No child is ever too busy for their parents. Remember that, Charles, before yours pass away too. If I could see mine just one more time . . . I would . . . just kill for it.” Desiree sucks her bottom lip into her mouth before going back behind her workstation. “A date?”

  “No!” Crina answers.

  “God, no. She’s incorrigible.” I grit, glaring at Crina.

  Desiree giggles lightly, “Okay . . . so your usual table then after you get changed?”

  “I’m not getting changed, Desiree. He can either see me dressed like this, or we can eat somewhere else.”

  “God. You Beaumont men have to be so difficult. Don’t you?” She throws a hand up in the air, starting to go off toward the back. I follow her and glance back to make sure Crina’s behind me. She is, so we pass through the main dining area, getting stares from the judgmental older folk who normally dine here. Eventually, we’re back in a booth in the furthest corner, tucked away from prying eyes and eavesdroppers.

  “I’ll go fetch your waiter. Would you like wine?”

  “A bottle of dry white would be perfect. Merci.” All the employees here speak French, though I’m a bit rusty on my native language.