Callous Criminal (Vicious Vipers MC Book 3)

by Lynn Burke

  “She must not be the clingy type.”

  “Fuck off,” I clipped my words, the sudden need to defend Pia catching me off guard. “She’s a good woman. Social worker with a heart of fucking gold.”

  “She’ll need one to put up with your ass.”

  “Fuck off,” I repeated.

  He laughed louder, his voice booming through my cell phone. “You gonna use more than your dick to touch the poor woman?”

  “I want to.”

  Klingon sobered quick as fuck, silence settling. “Yeah?” he finally asked.

  “Fucking crave it.” Tremors began in my legs, creeping up my body, settling in my chest as I considered my statement. “I want her hands on me,” I admitted, feeling a little better over letting that truth out.

  “You should go see a shrink, Ryk,” Klingon said, and my brow went back to its deep furrowed state.

  The last thing I needed to do was sit down and spill the shit of my life—and end up rotting my ass off in prison. No fucking way would a moral man keep his mouth shut after learning all I’d done since learning the difference between right and wrong.

  “Baby steps.”

  “What?” I asked, confused as fuck and staring at my black TV screen.

  “Take baby steps,” Klingon said. “A little touch at a time. Through clothes until you can handle it, then move on to more when you’re comfortable.”

  “You going all psychologist on my ass?”

  “Nah. Just seemed like a good idea.”

  “And if it doesn’t work?”

  “Won’t know if you don’t fucking try.”

  I changed the topic to assholes sniffing around about the shit show we’d created, but he assured me no one had.

  I considered Klingon’s words about baby steps long after we hung up, but I was still too chicken shit to call Pia.

  Chapter Twelve

  Pia

  Ryker hadn’t called since his mom had passed, and I fought off the desire to wallow in self-pity, thinking I’d been nothing but a bitch to get his rocks off with. Replaying the conversations we’d had through my head kept me in the game, though. We’d connected on a few levels from coffee to lasagna, from pot roast to the Patriots.

  But I liked cats—he liked dogs.

  I enjoyed frou-frou drinks. He preferred beer and shots of whiskey even though he claimed he wanted to quit both—I expected his father influenced those wishes, too.

  I liked to dive deep into emotions and what triggers them. He avoided admitting to what he felt beyond lust and anger.

  I wondered over his emotional state and the lack of grief I’d noted on his face when he’d gotten off the phone with his sister Jenny. While I knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his mom from the bits of his childhood he’d shared with me, I didn’t understand the cold heartedness that had frozen his face over learning of her death.

  Had he mourned at all? Did he still?

  My heart ached to hold him, tell him it was okay for a badass biker man to show feelings. Keeping them all bottled up inside wasn’t good for anyone—especially a person who might piss him off by accident and reap the consequences.

  I also wondered about Dasia and how she fared at the Griffey’s. I hadn’t heard from her, and worry nagged my insides Tuesday night. Deciding I needed to focus on what I could influence, I called the Griffey’s landline. Dasia’s foster mother answered and told me she would let Dasia know I wished to speak with her.

  Warm voice, sweet as southern peach pie—Mrs. Griffey truly was a loving woman. If only she knew about her husband’s liking for girls he had no business—or right—touching.

  “Hey, Miss Pia,” Dasia said, her voice muffled as though she covered her mouth against the phone.

  “How are you?”

  “Did you find me a new home?” she asked rather than answer my question.

  “Not yet,” I hated to admit, my heart breaking anew. “But I’ve got something in the works—I should have an answer for you by Friday, okay? Can you hang in there for a few more days?”

  Dasia let out a heavy breath. “I can’t stand it here,” she whispered. “He tried my door knob again last night.”

  Anger flared to life inside me, and I envisioned ripping Mr. Griffey’s hands off his arms. Punching him right in the nose.

  “I just avoid him as much as possible,” Dasia said.

  “Stick to his wife’s side,” I said. “Stay alert and make sure you don’t end up alone with him—even for five minutes, alright?”

  “Yeah. I’m trying.”

  “You’ll be eighteen in a couple of months, Dasia. Then you’ll have your freedom. Promise.”

  ****

  Dasia called me from her friend’s cell phone late the next morning while I sat in traffic trying to get to the office after working from home for a few hours.

  “Dasia?” I asked in answer, having saved her friend’s number and answering the call regardless of the new hands-free law.

  She sobbed, and my heart stalled out.

  I clutched my steering wheel tighter with my free hand. “Dasia! What happened?”

  “Mrs. Griffey went to the gym before he left for work this morning,” she sputtered between sobs, and I grit my teeth, beyond angry—beyond hurt for the poor girl.

  “What did he do?”

  “Cornered me. Grabbed my breast.” She sobbed again. “He tried to kiss me, but I kneed him in the balls.”

  “Good for you!”

  “I-I took off. Ran all the way over to Stacey’s—barefoot and in my PJs.”

  “Did you call the cops?”

  “You know I can’t do that!”

  I wanted to curse her out like Ryker, telling her the fuck she couldn’t.

  “He’s a somebody, Miss Pia. I’m a nobody—that means no one will believe me.”

  We’d had the discussion before, and the truth of her words slayed me to the point curse words rang inside my head on repeat.

  “You stay with Stacey today, tonight if you can—I know where you are, so I’ll find a way to get you out of the Griffey’s right away.”

  There has to be a way…

  Dasia sniffled in my ear. “Okay.”

  “Does Stacey know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Her parents?”

  “No.”

  Friends of the Griffey’s, I doubted they would believe her anyway.

  “You just stay there, you hear me?” I said, finally putting the car into drive as the cars ahead of me shifted forward.

  “Okay.”

  “Call me if you need me.”

  Seconds later, I hung up and flung my cell over to the passenger seat, spouting off every swear word I knew until I sat fuming in silence, once more at a standstill in traffic as an ambulance sped by in the breakdown lane. Imagining what Dasia had gone through at that bastard’s sick hands turned my stomach, and tears pricked my eyes.

  My cell rang again, and I sprawled over the console, grasping for the phone just beyond reach. “Damnit!” Since I popped my car into park while waiting for the accident ahead to clear, I unhooked my seat belt and scooted close enough to grab it.

  Ryker.

  A sob caught in my throat at the sudden onslaught of emotion. “Hey,” I managed to hold it together, forcing a smile so he wouldn’t hear the tears in my voice. “How are you doing? How’s Jenny?”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked without answering my questions, his tone wary and on alert even through the line.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, knowing he wouldn’t let it go. “Dasia’s foster father sexually assaulted her.”

  “Where is she?” The question came out low. Deadly.

  Shivers licked at my spine. “Safe at a friend’s.”

  “Where are you?”

  I opened my eyes, my shoulders slumped at the weight of feeling completely powerless. “Sitting in traffic.”

  “Did he fucking rape her?” Ryker asked, his tone hinting at barely suppressed rage—understan
dably so.

  “No,” I whispered, horrified of the thought if she hadn’t hit him in the nuts that he very well may have stolen her innocence.

  “You need to get her the hell outta there.”

  “I can’t.” I bit back a sob. “Not legally, anyway, since she refuses to go to the authorities.”

  “Goddamn mother fucking…”

  I swiped tears from my cheeks. “I think I’ve found a new home for her, but I won’t know for sure until Friday.”

  “Friday might be too late,” he snapped, and I choked on another sob knowing I might fail her further. “Are you okay?” he asked with less venom in his tone.

  “I could really use a hug,” I whispered my longing, sending an ache through my chest as tears coursed down my face.

  “I’m sorry I can’t be that for you, Pia.”

  “Yeah.” I swallowed against my pain, my tumbling emotions, and the cars ahead of me finally started moving again. “I have to go,” I whispered.

  “Keep in touch, Pia. Let me know what happens, and maybe you and I can head out on the bike this weekend.”

  Something to smile about—but my lips didn’t even twitch. “I’d like that,” I managed to choke out.

  “Saturday?”

  I would have Dasia placed elsewhere by then and would hopefully be able to enjoy a day away from reality. “Say the time and I’ll be ready.”

  “I’ll pick you up at nine—and Pia?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Pack an overnight bag.”

  Hope bubbled up enough to make my worry for Dasia bearable.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ryker

  I’d spent an hour in the chop shop before caving and telling my chicken shit self to grow some goddamn balls and call Pia. Thank fuck I did.

  I hung up and it took me all of two minutes to get a plan set in my head, before I headed out of the office to set it in motion. I grabbed a set of keys to one of the vehicles Sully, my other head mechanic, had readied to strip down, and checked to make sure it still had a set of stolen plates on the front and back of the car.

  “Borrowing this one!” I hollered across the shop. “Lights all working?”

  Sully glanced up from the engine he’d been bent over, ratchet in hand, giving the car I stood beside a quick once-over. “It’s ready to roll. If you’re goin’ for lunch, grab me a sub, too!”

  “Not coming back today—you’re in charge.”

  “Ooo!” He chuckled and wiped his elbow across his scruffy cheek. “Hot date?”

  “Fuck off!”

  He lifted a greasy hand in a saluted wave and grinned, same as always when I took off from the shop. “Take it easy, boss!”

  Easy.

  I considered the word while speeding back home to change. Devil had given me all the shit on one Ted Griffey, billionaire CEO with the perfectly groomed hair and brilliant white smile.

  Fucking sleaze ball. Cocksucking bastard.

  While Vigil would have preferred I take a brother or three along with me to watch my back while I took care of business, I didn’t have the time or patience to wait. The lust for blood, the rage to destroy, motored my mind forward as fast as the Screamin’ Eagle I wished to have between my legs, rather than a stolen fucking car that brought on claustrophobia.

  I put down the windows and managed to relax the slightest bit with the blast of fresh, hot air.

  The fucker worked in downtown Boston, so I knew I couldn’t go rumbling in on my bike in leathers and a cut claiming me as a Vicious Viper. Stolen car, stolen plates, and jeans and a black t-shirt along with a ball cap it had to be.

  A quick change out of my leathers at home, and I hopped back in the car, heading for Boston.

  I dialed up Devil en route, not giving two fucks about the hands-free law and just staying alert for any fuzz hanging out ahead of me.

  “Whatcha got, Ryker?” he answered.

  “Need to know where that Griffey fuck is.”

  “What happened?”

  “He went after the girl, but she escaped before he stuck his dick where it doesn’t belong.”

  “Thank fuck for that,” he muttered. “Give me a few—I’ll get back to you.”

  I stared at the open highway, keeping the speed to five over the limit, the silence stifling. Tunnel-visioned by blood lust, I waited. My stomach hard, my jaw aching.

  Took twenty minutes for Devil to call me back.

  “He’s in his office, and I’ve got the building’s security system and the parking garages ready to shut down.”

  “I’m good to roll?”

  “Have at the fucker, and give him a boot for me, too, will ya?”

  Devil hated abuse just as much as I did—but for different reasons. He’d had his own innocence stolen by a priest, and the fucker claimed it’s what twisted his mind.

  I didn’t consider him as sick in the head as me, but the club whores whispered about his liking of kinky shit. Whatever floated his boat—as long as it was consensual and no one got hurt without wanting it, I didn’t give a shit what the fuck he did behind closed doors.

  Two blocks and just over an hour to Griffey’s usual quitting time, I told Devil to shut the system down. Whether he knocked out the feeds, put something on repeat, or some other sneaky shit, I didn’t care. All I knew, is I could trust my brother to protect my ass from getting my face caught on camera anywhere near Griffey.

  I parked in the parking garage he used, backed in and facing his BMW with its vanity plate about some “makin’it” shit. He might be making it big in the corporate world, but the rich CEO was about to have his ass handed to him, bar room brawl style.

  Thoughts flooded my head while I waited, all bringing an onslaught of emotion I couldn’t fucking deal with.

  Jenny had packed up Mom’s shit and had picked up her ashes. I hated that I hadn’t been able to offer physical comfort, same as I couldn’t do for Pia. She captured my focus for a time, and I replayed our time together, how easy it was to talk to her—just fucking be with her.

  I fucking missed her. Her smile and laughter, her sweet, fruity scent. My mind went to her body, her curves, and I flexed my fingers as they itched to touch—caress and give affection I craved myself.

  I managed to lose myself in the fantasy to pass the time, even getting a semi. Griffey made an appearance, shutting all thoughts of Pia and my dick straight the fuck down, stirring my rage again. A leggy woman in a business suit chatted with him as they walked toward me.

  “Fuck.” I had no intention of hurting a woman, and the second she angled off down another row of cars, I breathed easier.

  I hopped out of the car, shoulders hunched, trying to look less a threat than I was while checking out the immediate area. The woman pulled out of her parking spot on the other side of the garage and headed out—away from us.

  Griffey strode toward his car, his focus on the cell in his hand, a briefcase-type bag occupying his other hand.

  My heart rate slowed as I focused on even breathing—but rage spurred me onward, and I slowed a bit, judging distance … keeping my foot falls quiet.

  Out for a stroll in a goddamn parking garage like I had nothing better to do…

  Griffey slid his cell into his suit coat, pulled out a set of keys, and hit the unlock. The BMW beeped.

  Ten feet.

  He glanced at me and nodded as I feigned a pathway behind him.

  I dipped my head in response and turned my attention on the exit, keeping watch over him in my periphery.

  Five feet.

  He focused on his driver door, hand reaching out for the handle—and I dove at him in a burst of adrenaline, grasping his hair and smashing his face into the window.

  “Ah!” He grunted as I smashed his face in a second time, kneeing up between his thighs at the same time. Another grunt ripped from him, and I let him go, stepping back, and glancing around as he crumpled to the ground.

  Not a soul had witness the attack that I could see.

  I crouch
ed beside him, checking out my work. He clutched his bloody nose with one hand and his balls with the other while whimpering and curling into a ball. A fucking puddle of piss leaked onto the ground beneath his ass.

  “D-don’t hurt me … cash in wallet.” He coughed and moaned, writhing in pain, eyelids clenched shut. “Take it all—anything. J-just please leave me alone.”

  Cocksucking pansy ass.

  I wondered if he even considered Dasia’s pleas for him to stop before deciding to ignore them.

  “You fucking touch your foster kid again, and I’ll saw my blade across your throat,” I whispered harshly while watching the blood dribble through his fingers covering his nose. “I’ve got eyes on you, Griffey,” I growled the words. “Even in your own fucking home. Fuck up again, and I’ll feed you to the fucking fish. Understand?”

  He whimpered again and nodded.

  “Words, cocksucker.”

  “Yes,” he gasped out.

  I stood, slammed my steel-tipped boot into his kidney for Devil, and left the pussy lying there in his own piss and blood.

  He hadn’t moved by the time I got back to the car and pulled out. The adrenaline crash hit me quicker than usual, and my fingers shook as I dialed Devil. “It’s done.”

  I hung up without another word, knowing my brother would do whatever necessary to undo what he’d done to watch my back. I clutched the steering wheel to keep my hands from shaking from the adrenaline crash after affects.

  I turned north, intent on returning the car back to the chop shop and burning my clothes. The need for drinking a fifth of JD flitted through my brain, but I shut it down, even though I really wanted to go find Pia just to see her face from a distance. Drink her the fuck down instead.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Pia

  The new foster family for Dasia fell through.

  I sat and stared at the phone I’d hung up after hearing the terrible news. With no other home to place her in, Dasia had no choice but to return to the Griffey’s. That, or run away again and live on the streets, which I couldn’t stomach the thought of. I’d never known such disappointment, not even when losing who’d I’d hoped would be my forever family when I’d been a young teenage girl.