JUSTICE (YOUNG OUTLAWS MC Book 2)

by T L Wainwright

  “The night Leah turned up at the club house, she was there. You told me to take her home, remember?”

  A flicker of recollection crosses his face. “That was, what, a year ago?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t understand. Have you been fucking her all this time?”

  “Fuck off, Cannon. It’s not like that.”

  “Then tell me, what is it like?” he demands.

  “When I took her home, I gave her my cell number.”

  “What the hell for?”

  “She wouldn’t let me take her right to her house. Made me get out of the car before we got anywhere near.” I can still recall that night as clear as day and my reluctance in wanting to leave her.

  “Made you? Pussy!” he taunts.

  “Fuck you. If you’d have seen the way she reacted, Cannon. She was scared, terrified that her father might see me.”

  “Big fucking deal,” he snickers. “So, daddy might be a bit pissed, so what.”

  “That’s what I thought at first, but by the look on her face it was obvious that he’d make her life hell.” I let out a deep sigh. “Something wasn’t right. I knew it. So, I gave her my number and told her to get in touch if she needed help.”

  “So, out of the blue, a year later, she calls you up and says, “hey, will you be my hero?””

  “Not quite. We’ve been texting, the occasional phone call.”

  “Texting or sexting?” he enquires.

  “I keep telling you. It’s not like that, we were… friends.”

  “Jesus, Mammoth. Fucking friends! You do know who her father is don’t you?”

  Anger builds within me and pushes out my spoken words between gritted teeth, “I actually give no fucks as to who her father is. He could be the King of fucking England for all I care. I’d break every damn bone in his fucking hands if I had my way.”

  “Then why didn’t you just do that? An assault charge would have been a hell of a lot easier to get you out of than this shit.”

  “Because that’s not what she wanted.”

  “Holy fucking shit,” he barks, jumping out of his seat. His heavy, beat up boots hit the bare wood floor with a bang. He rubs the short, stubble of his hair at the top of his head with the palm of his hand as he paces from one side of the room to the other. “Go on. You better tell me exactly what happened.”

  But how can I explain when I can hardly believe it myself.

  Online dating. Long distance relationship. What a crock of shit. That was my view anyway.

  People who claimed that they had fallen for someone, become infatuated with them without actually meeting them face to face, even go so far as to marry them, I would be the first to ridicule them, crack a rib from laughing so hard at their stupid gullibility. But with every phone call, every text over the past months with Dana Donovan, I have become more and more drawn to her. Our interaction has brought to light the indescribable connection we have that borders on lines of soul mates. Which is another thing that in the past I would never believe possible.

  She brings light into my life that I don’t ever want to burn out, and although I know it can never become anything more, I’ll take it.

  Chapter 7

  Two months earlier

  Mammoth

  “You wouldn’t be shooting your mouth off if he was here, so cut the crap,” I reprimand the two brothers drinking at the club house bar. “You’d piss your pants if he walked in now and heard you spouting all that shit.”

  Tag-it and Creeper are yet again discussing Cannon’s movements and rumored infatuation with the young chick, Leah Sparks. The girl the club has had under protection for the last few years. She’s also jailbait according to Florida state law, as she’s not yet eighteen.

  At first, Cannon delegated a lot of the shadowing of her to one of the other Young Outlaws. But as time has gone on, he’s become more and more involved, taken on most of the work and spending less and less time at the club house. I’ve even taken the piss out of him myself about his undeniable fascination with the girl, but that was mostly when there were just the two of us. So, to hear these assholes talking shit, is annoying the fuck out of me.

  “If he ain’t going to step up and show the pretty lady a good time, I’ll happily take his place,” Creeper replies with a salacious grin on his face.

  “Yeah, count me in. She’d be perfect for a spit roast. Ssshit! The thought of shoving my meat into that tight little virgin ass and...”

  “Enough,” I shout over their filthy banter. “She’s off limits, and you fucking know it. If one word of anything out of order gets back to Jordan Sparks, then the club and every bastard member will be up to their necks in shit, do you hear me?”

  “What you gonna do, if we don’t?” It only takes me one huge step and I’m right up in Tag-it’s face.

  “Put it this way, shit for brains, I’ll put a bullet in your dick, let you bleed out slowly then drag you down to the swamp and feed you to the alligators. And you better hope it’s me that gets to you first, because if Cannon beats me to it, then your ass is in for a whole lot more torture and pain than you could even imagine.”

  I push him away from me with so much force that he ends up hitting the floor hard.

  “Now get the fuck out of my face before I put you on bathroom duty.” Creeper steps forward and offers Tag-it a hand, helping him off the floor. They both look like they’re dying to take this further, but they know better than that. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d taken on two, even three of my brothers at one time.

  “If I hear one more word about Leah, I’ll…” The vibration of my cell phone against my thigh cuts me off in mid-sentence. I reach into the pocket of my jeans to retrieve it, when I see who it is that’s calling me, I wave them both off with a one fingered salute before turning my back and walking away. I wait until I’m out the door of the club house before I answer it.

  “What’s up, Sweet Cheeks, couldn’t you wait? I thought you were calling me later?”

  “Mammoth!” The crack in her voice and her erratic breathing has me instantly on high alert. I pick up on the fact that she’s crying too, and my chest becomes tight, my fist clenches, the grip on my phone intensifies.

  “Baby, what happened?” I ask. My gut instinct tells me to go to her, so I walk straight to where my motorcycle is. When I don’t get a response, I push a little harder. “Dana, where are you honey? Come on, talk to me.”

  “I’m at home. In my room. They’ve locked me in my room,” her voice is gradually becoming more manic. “He… Mammoth, I’m scared. I can’t get out.” With every sob I hear, my heart cracks a little more and the need to get to her intensifies tenfold.

  “Okay, baby, listen to my voice. Breathe honey, I need you to calm down and do as I ask.”

  “Please Mammoth, I need you.”

  “Don’t cry baby, it’s going to be okay. I need you to grab whatever you need, shoes, jacket. Keep your phone close. I’ll call you back, I promise.”

  “Mammoth, don’t go.”

  “Baby, I gotta go, but don’t worry, it won’t be for long.” I slam my lid onto my head, not even caring to fasten the strap. I slide my aviators from my back pocket onto my face and throw my leg over the seat of the bike. Kicking off the stand, I say one more thing before I start her up.

  “I’m coming to get you.”

  I have no clue as to the layout of the Donovan household, but looking up the long driveway that leads to a large two-story house through the gaps of the ornate barred security gate, its blatantly obvious that I can’t go in blind. I need some idea as to where in the house Dana is.

  The benefit of being tall, comes into play when I manage to get a good hold of the top of one of the gate posts. Heaving myself over them is not so easy but when my feet hit the ground on the other side, with bold and sure strides I make my way up towards the house. I pull out my phone and call her.

  “Where are you?” she whimpers down the phone.

  “I’m here baby. I’m makin
g my way up to the house, but I need to know what I’m up against. Who’s there in the house with you?”

  “Dad left straight after he locked me in here. Mum’s not here and she won’t be back until tomorrow. The only other person in the house is Maria, the housekeeper.”

  “Can’t you get her to let you out of your room?”

  “Maria would never disobey my father’s orders. She’s as petrified of him as I am.”

  “Okay, so how do I get to your room without her seeing me?”

  “I don’t know.” A strangled sob escapes her and it’s like a punch in the chest. “This is hopeless.”

  “No, it’s not. I’m going to get you out of there, one way or the other even if I have to use force.”

  I now stand outside the front door, racking my brain as to how to handle this.

  “It’s just…”

  “What?”

  “Maria, I don’t want her to get hurt, she’s not to blame. If anything, in the past she’s tried to protect me at a great risk of losing her job.”

  “Dana, even if I managed to get past her undetected, as soon as I break down the door to your room, she’s going to come running. If she’s as protective towards you as you say, then she’s not going to stand there and let a big ass biker walk in without putting up some kinda fight.” I put my hand on the front door handle but when I turn it, it doesn’t move, and I come against resistance. The door is firmly locked, leaving me one option only, kick the damn thing in.

  “Wait,” Dana halts me before I end the call, so I can put all my energy and concentration into getting into the house. “I have an idea.”

  I continue to hold the phone to my ear, listening to her plan. When she finishes telling me what she’s got in mind and where I need to go if her plan doesn’t pan out, she cuts the call.

  The plan is that she will call Maria, pleading with her to bring her some Advil for the pounding headache she’s developed from crying so much after the argument with her father. Maria is a natural nurturer and obviously cares for Dana, it’s something that can be used to Dana’s advantage. Maria wouldn’t dream of letting Dana suffer, even if it meant that she would have to break her agreement with her boss to do so. It works. No more than five minutes later the front door flies open, and Dana is stood right in front of me.

  “Hey, Beast.” She greets me with a sad smile, but even with a tear stained face, puffy eyes and lips from all the crying, she still has my heart skipping a beat. I allow myself to take in the full view of her, noting the oversized hoody and tight skinny jeans.

  “Hey, Pixie,” I smile back at her and before I know it, the girl that I haven’t seen in person for over a year, yet it feels like only yesterday, comes barreling into my body with such force. It takes me by utter surprise, that she nearly knocks me off my feet. Impulsively, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her tightly into my embrace, and the feeling of her against me is so damn right. She smells like heaven, she feels like home, but my conscience has me releasing her, taking a step back from the inappropriate connection.

  “Come on,” I cough out, it’s a vain attempt to hide how she’s affecting me. I reach past her and pull the door closed before I slide the duffle bag off her shoulder and sling it over mine. Grabbing her hand, I start to lead her back down the driveway towards the gates.

  “What did you do to Maria?” I ask her, although I don’t really care to be honest.

  “I told her that I was feeling cold and asked if she could get me a blanket from the back of my closet, once she was in there, I closed the door. Fortunately for me, it has a lock.”

  “Clever girl.”

  “I hate doing it, but at least she’s safe and it should keep her free from any blame; that should all fall back on me for tricking her.” When we get to the gate, Dana lets go of my hand and walks to a black panel set into the post that I’d not even noticed until now. Slipping a small bunch of keys out of her jeans pocket she slides one into a small hole, turns it once, punches a code into the number panel and the gates start to slide open.

  While the gates start to close behind us, I place my helmet on her head and fasten the strap under her chin, making sure I don’t pinch her delicate skin.

  “Shit,” I mumble to myself, realising that with the heavy bag and not knowing if Dana has ever ridden pillion before, maybe bringing the bike wasn’t such a good idea, but it was on instinct. Besides, taking Cannon’s truck or the club van would have only raised suspicion. “Where’s your car?”

  “I have no idea. Dad took the keys off me a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t seen it since. I even looked in the garage, but it’s not there. Why, what’s up?”

  “Nothing. We’ll just have to take it steady. Make sure you hold on tight.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  I help her onto the bike and slide the leather strap of the duffle bag across the front of her body, so the bulk of the bag rests against her back.

  “Is that okay, it’s not too heavy? Because if it is…”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m stronger than I look.” She glances up at me with big, wide, questionable eyes, “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere where you won’t be found, at least until you want to be.” I take my seat on the bike with Dana right behind me, her arms securely in place around my waist, I start her up. When the engine rumbles into life, I kick off the stand, squeeze the clutch lever, and select the gear. Pulling on the throttle, easing off the clutch and we’re on the move.

  Chapter 8

  Mammoth

  It takes us around thirty-five minutes to cut through the residential area, out the other side of town and into an area of dense trees and woodland. Not many people come into this area, as there’s nothing here to be had. But it’s the one place that I go to when I need to clear my head of club business, my father’s bullshit and every other negative thought that invades my mind. It’s the one place where I feel that I can truly breathe.

  I came across the old crumbling shack a few years back, not long after my twin brother had left to join the marines. Pops had recently got me my first, brand new Harley motorcycle and I’m fairly sure that it was partially out of guilt of Brick leaving and part bribe to make sure I’d fall in line as a club member.

  On that particular day, I’d been sickened by a conversation I’d heard between a couple of the old timers. The guys had been shooting the breeze about general shit, but then the atmosphere had suddenly changed between them and you could cut it with a knife. I was in two minds as to how much of their ramblings was fact and how much was fiction but either way, it was troubling.

  They hadn’t seen me at first, unaware that I’d been listening, but as soon as they’d realized that I was stood right behind them, taking in every word, they clammed up fast. After an uncomfortable silence, they were obviously trying to figure out how much or how little I’d heard, they had walked away. But I hadn’t missed the looks of fear on their faces, fear that they had said too much. Given away information about their President, that was not for general consumption, right in front of the son of the very same President of the Young Outlaws Motorcycle Club.

  The conversation had disturbed me, so much so that I’d need to get away and think. What better way than to ride. Jumping on my motorcycle I’d headed out and kept on riding until I’d come to the dense wooded area. When I spotted a narrow dirt track that was barely visible from the road, I decided to follow it to see where it went. Although the Harley hadn’t been too happy about the terrain, I’d pushed on, going deeper into the woods.

  The wooden structure that had loomed in front of me was a complete and utter wreck. Half the roof was missing, the side walls warped, so much so that they held little protection against the elements, but it was appealing. Set in the perfect secluded area, away from everything. A place away from crazy town. A haven.

  Once I’d had a good look around, surveying the damage, I headed back to town eager to find out more. It didn’t take much investigation to find out that the land
was owned by the Floridian South Water company, which should have been obvious really, since most of the area was wetlands. However, when I enquired further, I found that it was not impossible to procure a small plot from the company, provided certain stipulations were met with regards to the land, access and what you wanted to do with it. Apparently, repairing a small dwelling that was already on the land as long as it wouldn’t be a permanent residence was acceptable. Normally, I would have contacted Rossi to deal with the legal side of things, but despite the fact that I knew I could trust Rossi to keep this strictly between the two of us, I went with a lesser known lawyer who specifically handled real estate. It took nearly six months from start to finish to get my hands on the land, but it was worth the wait.

  The property was a steal and having always been a saver rather than a spender, it hardly made a dent in the secret stash of cash that I had.

  Well, it wasn’t like I’d tell my Pops about it, now would I?

  From then on, every spare moment I had, when not tied up with club business or my fucking father being a general cock, I worked on the cabin. I stripped it back to the bare bones and slowly brought it back to life. Although at some points, it was a feat I thought I’d never complete. But with the help of You Tube videos, google searches and a hell of a lot of hard work, I finished and with my own two fucking hands.

  It isn’t anything over fancy, but I love it and I’m proud as fuck of my achievement. It has electricity thanks to a reconditioned, hardy, old generator. The running water was the hardest and most laborious job, running the pipes underground for what seemed like miles, fitting a filtration system and pump to ensure that the water has enough pressure to push through to the small bathroom and shower over the tub. Not to forget the toilet and the kitchen sink. You wouldn’t want to drink the stuff, but it’s pure enough for washing and cleaning. Gas canisters are installed and piped throughout, to the cooker hob, oven and a wood burner that sits proudly in the main living area, suppling heat when it’s needed. All the mod cons but not to ostentatious so as to keep the woodland cabin feel to it as much as possible. It’s cozy, and I love it.