Traitor (Southern Rebels MC Book 3)

by Kristin Coley

  The line went dead, and I couldn’t stop the crawling sensation that told me this goodbye was more final than usual. That it went beyond a simple goodnight phone call. I was about to say, “Fuck it,” and go over there, when the soft scuff of a boot on the ground caused me to spin around.

  Creed stood there, his eyes hooded, as his words proceeded to completely distract me. “I came to apologize,” he muttered and I blinked at him in surprise, positive I’d never heard him say that before, at least not to me. He glanced to the side, shaking his head when he saw the hole in the wall. “I guess I should consider myself lucky it was the wall and not me,” he murmured to himself.

  He exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry. I should have told you as soon as I found out about Monty.” He tapped his chest, right over his heart, as he continued, “I also shouldn’t have told you not to go see Norah. I know how much she means to you. What your promise to Deacon means to you.”

  “You were only trying to protect them,” I muttered grudgingly, able to admit it now that he’d admitted he was wrong. “Tori was right about keeping them safe.” Creed dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Sometimes my first instinct isn’t always the right one.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Creed denied, respect gleaming in his eyes. “You lead with your heart. Always have. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He glanced down, then back up at me. “I admire that in you.” He shook his head. “You didn’t know Dad.” He snorted. “And I know you get hell of a tired hearing it, but you are the damn spitting image of the man.” I glanced away, shaking my own head. He wasn’t wrong. I’d heard it practically every day of my life and it was damn hard being compared to a dead man. “I miss him a little less because of you,” Creed commented and my head jerked up. “You being so much like him, it’s a little like having Dad back.” He shrugged, glancing away. “Makes me think maybe we didn’t screw you up too bad at least.”

  “Then maybe being compared to Dad,” I lifted one shoulder, “Maybe it’s not so bad.”

  Creed held out a fist. “We cool?”

  I bumped my fist against his. “We’re cool.”

  Chapter Four

  Crew

  I lit the cigarette, taking a deep drag as the cheap ass burner started to ring in my pocket. I considered not answering, but gave up that idea with a sigh.

  He’d just keep calling.

  “It’s done.” I listened, hearing the relief in his voice. “I’m good. Monty gave me full membership. Dick is dead.” Satisfaction radiated through me at putting down one more of Deacon’s killers. “All that’s left is Monty.” He told me to be careful and I cocked my head, wondering what he’d think of how tonight’s activities had went down. “Always,” I assured him, lying through my teeth. “Don’t worry about me.” He made a scoffing sound and I rolled my tongue over my teeth. “I got to go,” I told him, promising to keep him updated, as I added, “You’re worse than an old hen.”

  I shoved the phone back in my pocket, and dropped the cigarette, losing interest. She was on my mind. Drea. Her name rolled through my head, sending a jolt of heat straight to my dick. I’d wanted what she’d offered and walking away had been harder than I liked to admit.

  I rubbed my mouth, still feeling the imprint of her lush mouth on mine. For the barest second, I’d felt alive, her touch reminding me I wasn’t dead, and there was more to life than the vengeance I sought.

  My head dropped back as I tapped another cigarette out of the pack. The scent of menthol drifted over me as my eyes closed, the image of a honey haired woman superimposed by one with a pair of fiery brown eyes and tawny skin.

  Chapter Five

  Drea

  Eight Months Earlier

  “Is Monty’s release ready to go?” My gaze skimmed over the assembled guys. “I don’t want any hitches.”

  “It’s taken care of,” my boss assured me. “Everything’s in place. Once we get your cover established, we should be golden.”

  “Famous last words,” Dwayne muttered under his breath and I was hard pressed not to agree. Nothing ever went according to plan, but this one was personal. It had to work.

  “Maybe –”

  “Do not even suggest someone else go in with the Vipers,” I warned, silencing him before he could even finish. “This one is mine.”

  “And that attitude is exactly why you’re the last one who should go,” my boss retorted, ignoring my flashing eyes. “You know I’m right, otherwise you wouldn’t be trying to kill me with that famous stare of yours.”

  “I have to do this,” I told him, raw honesty in my voice. “There is no one else.” I shook my head, hating my next words. “There’s only one place for a woman in the Vipers and its on her back. I won’t ask anyone else to do this.”

  “Which is why I suggested sending a guy in,” he replied, looking uncomfortable as the other guys avoided my gaze.

  “Like Donny and Nick?” He flinched and I nodded. “There is no time for that and it wouldn’t work anyway. The club is established. New prospects are watched like a hawk. Their women on the other hand….” I trailed off, not bothering to mention what they thought of the women.

  “Anyone else, Drea,” he gazed at me imploringly. “Anyone else. Your dad –”

  “Understands,” I interjected flatly. “He supports me. You should do the same.”

  “I do, Drea,” he snapped, taking my shoulders and shaking me lightly. “Your brother and your fiancé were two of my best. And so are you. I don’t want to see you throw your life away for revenge.”

  “I don’t have a life. Not anymore.” The stark truth silenced him. “I have to do this. It’s the only thing I have left.”

  He stared at me for a second, before relenting with a sigh. “Don’t make me have to tell your father I lost you too.”

  “You won’t,” I promised lightly, fingers crossed behind my back. I’d said my goodbyes, not knowing how long this would take or if I’d be coming back. The Vipers were notorious for in fighting and women had a tendency to disappear. I had better survival skills than most, but what I was about to do could be considered a suicide mission. If I was caught, my life would be forfeit instantly. My gaze swept over the other guys, the ones who were supposed to back me up, but we all knew there was no way they’d make it in time. “No hitches,” I repeated, seeing their nods as I picked up the flimsy purse and prepared to worm my way into the Vipers.

  Chapter Six

  Drea

  “There’s a hitch,” I said as soon as the line picked up. “Dick’s dead.” I peeked through the crack in the bathroom door, the shower running full blast behind me, as I made sure Crew hadn’t come back. “The prospect killed him tonight and get this….he replaced him with Monty’s full approval. We need more info on this guy.”

  I shook my head, still unable to believe what had gone down. Shit like that didn’t happen, not in the Vipers. They’d been on our radar for years, and members were entrenched. This kid had come from nowhere, and been given prospect status, and now he’d taken down Monty’s right hand man like he’d had the right. Hell, like he had been given permission to do so.

  “I know,” I answered, hearing him repeat what I’d already thought. “Also, there’s a delivery Tuesday we need to intercept.” The door knob rattled. “I have to go,” I said hastily, slipping the burner back into its hiding place as I prepared to greet the newcomer.

  Expecting to see Crew’s short, dark hair, my eyes narrowed at the sight of long, greasy hair and I marched from the bathroom, instantly going on the offensive. “What the fuck are you doing in here, Dick Jr?” I intentionally used the nickname everyone called him behind his back and he didn’t disappoint me. Any attempt at being sneaky disappeared as he swelled up, his bloodshot eyes attempting to focus as his gaze swung toward me.

  “It’s Bruce,” he roared, and I waited to see if he’d pound on his chest like Tarzan, but alas, he didn’t. “This mine.” He pointed to the floor and I tried to decide if he meant the clothes strewn e
verywhere or the room itself. His inner two-year-old was really making it hard to tell as he proceeded to stomp his foot too. “Mine.”

  “Okaaaay,” I drawled, knowing I was about to poke the bear but unable to stop myself since I doubted he’d remember any of this in the morning. “I don’t know what you think is yours, but you can go suck your thumb in your own room, k?” I waved my hand at the door, dismissing him, and it was exactly like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

  His nostrils flared and I could see his intention before he even moved. He launched himself at me as I dodged to the side, but I underestimated his speed. He propelled us both onto the bed, his unwashed body pinning me to the mattress. The force had knocked the wind out of me and I struggled to catch my breath as he grinded against me. I turned my head, avoiding his wet mouth, as his weight pressed down on me, making it impossible for me to breath.

  “Mine,” he muttered against my neck, dry humping me. “All mine. Not Dick Jr. no more.” There was something intrinsically pathetic about his words, but I couldn’t drum up any sympathy as I tried to breath and push him off me at the same time. His massive weight made it nearly impossible though.

  “Not yours.” I heard the words at the same time Bruce disappeared off me. “She. Is. Mine.” I stared in shock as Crew pointed to me, the dangerous expression on his face getting through even to Bruce. “This room is mine. VP is mine.” He shook his head, cracking his knuckles. “You don’t touch what is mine.”

  I’d seen more than my fair share of posturing in my life, but this was nothing more than a simple statement of fact. A claiming. One that sent a tingle through my core as I laid there trying to draw oxygen into my lungs.

  Bruce stared at him, trying to figure out what just happened, but when Crew started toward him, he flinched, ducking his head. “I didn’t mean anything,” he tried to say and if it was possible, Crew’s expression grew darker.

  “Do yourself a favor, Dick Jr. Don’t lie to me.”

  The punch came so fast and hard, I jerked in surprise. The sound of crunching bone brought me upright and I scooted back on the bed as blood and spit flew. After a few minutes of Crew pounding on Bruce’s face, some of his rage seemed to dissipate. He stepped back, breathing heavily, as blood dripped from his knuckles. “Get out,” he ground out as Bruce stared at him in a daze. “Get out,” he repeated, louder, practically snarling and it seemed to penetrate this time as Bruce lumbered to the door, his face a bloody, swollen mess.

  I stayed on the bed, where one corner of the sheet had bunched up, revealing the stained mattress underneath. His head turned slightly, exposing a hard jawline. “You a’ight?”

  I nodded, then swallowed, easing my dry throat enough to speak. “Yes.”

  “Lock’s busted.”

  I nodded mutely, wanting to say more, but his sheer brutality had stolen my words.

  He looked at me then, and I saw when he registered my fear.

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  I licked my lips, my gaze locked on his clenched fists, the knuckles torn and bleeding. “I’ve heard that before,” I whispered and his face darkened, kicking up my heart rate.

  “Not from me,” he swore, stepping closer and I shook my head rapidly. “I don’t hit women. I don’t abuse them. I don’t rape them. I promise you are safe with me.”

  “You killed Dick,” I reminded him, fishing for information, and was surprised when satisfaction glinted in his eyes.

  “He was hurting you.”

  “That was the only reason?” I questioned, growing bold as he continued to stand there, not coming closer.

  Something that might have been respect flickered across his face as he lifted one shoulder. “One of them,” he replied cryptically, a hint of amusement in his voice.

  I crawled across the bed, keeping my gaze on him, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, watching me. “You’re a scary SOB,” I informed him and his mouth curved.

  “Thank you,” he replied politely, shocking me further with his manners. I edged around him, going back to the bathroom, where the shower was still running. I crooked my finger at him and he eyed it for a second before following me. The cheap plastic curtain rattled as I pushed it out of the way and when I turned he was standing right beside me.

  “Good thing about this place, they never run out of hot water,” I murmured idly, reaching for the bottom of his t-shirt. He didn’t move to stop me so I pushed his shirt up, revealing unexpectedly impressive muscles.

  He must have noted my surprise because he said, “I spend all day loading trucks.”

  I nodded, remembering that was one of Monty’s legitimate businesses, a truck delivery service, and the most likely way he was moving so many drugs.

  “Must be why I never saw you around,” I commented, as he ducked so I could pull the shirt over his head. “I’ve heard the girls talk about you.”

  “I keep to myself.”

  My hands went to the snap on his jeans as I said, “A guy who keeps to himself can get lonely.”

  “When my right hand gets tired, my left does just fine,” he replied as I unzipped his jeans.

  I went to tug his jeans down, and he caught my hands. “Boots first,” he reminded me and I flushed at the amateur move. I had zero doubt I was older than him, and more experienced, but he made me feel like a fumbling teenager.

  I knelt, unlacing the heavy black boots, and he toed them off. I looked up at him, my face almost level with the zipper on his jeans and he gave a tiny shake of his head. I pushed myself up, my hands hovering over the heavy denim and he nodded. I worked the material down, ignoring the prominent bulge hidden behind black briefs as I slipped his jeans off.

  “Turn around,” he ordered and I did as he said, my heart pounding. It wasn’t fear, even though I should be terrified. I knew what I was getting into with Dick, but Crew was uncharted territory.

  Cloth rustled behind me and then I heard the clatter as the plastic shower curtain pulled closed. I stood there for a second longer, trying to process the fact that he was apparently modest.

  I reached down, picking up the boxer shorts and his jeans. “You want me to go get you some clothes?” I asked, somewhat bemused by this turn of events.

  “If you don’t mind,” he replied, his hand coming from behind the curtain to grab a bar of soap, and for the first time in my life I found myself envious of an inanimate object. “If you’re scared, I can go grab my stuff when I get out.”

  “I’m not scared,” I snapped, affronted by the implication and causing my act to slip. Silence met my words and I tried to recover. “I belong to you now. No one will mess with me. Not after what you did to Dick Jr.”

  He made a noncommittal sound as I escaped the suddenly tight confines of the bathroom. I wandered down the hall, seeing the various names written on doors, more than a few crossed out and replaced, until I came to the one that said C. Hayes. There was nothing else written on the door. No indication it had ever belonged to anyone but him, and my hand hovered over the knob indecisively.

  It had to belong to Crew, but I was wary of opening the door, even if it was the perfect opportunity to find out more about him. A latent sense of right and wrong stirred to life inside of me, reminding me of who I’d used to be. I shook the feeling off, twisting the knob sharply. “He gave you permission,” I said mockingly to myself. “You have to get his clothes and if you have to search to find them, who will know?” Satisfied I’d justified my decision, I went inside.

  Where Dick’s room resembled a tornado, Crew’s was almost impossibly bare. I growled in frustration, once again stymied by this guy. He wasn’t like any biker I’d ever met, and searching through his things amounted to a single backpack, which revealed nothing except his love of black t-shirts and jeans.

  I hefted the backpack on my shoulder, and turned to go back to our room, stopping short when I saw who stood in the doorway.

  My lips tightened and he smiled.

  “Drea, isn’t it?”

 
I nodded warily, shifting the backpack a little closer as Monty stood between me and the only exit.

  “I’d offer my condolences, but you seem to be doing just fine,” he commented, glancing pointedly at the backpack I was cradling.

  “It’s been a shock,” I said vaguely. “Crew has been kind to me.”

  “Staked his claim already, I heard.” Monty stepped closer and I tensed. I knew what he was capable of, the lengths he’d go to get his way, and I had no intention of underestimating him. It took iron fisted control to keep a club like this in line and I was nothing more than a piece of ass.

  “He’s agreed to let me stay,” I acknowledged, keeping my gaze downcast.

  “That’s good,” Monty mentioned. “Otherwise, you’d just get passed around among the guys until one took pity on you,” he paused, thinking for a second, “Or you died.”

  I took a quick breath, trying to hide the flutter of panic his words invoked. I’d managed to avoid that fate so far, but if Crew cast me aside, I was done.

  “Unless, of course, I decided I wanted a turn.”

  My gaze shot to his and a sick feeling twisted in the pit of my stomach. The idea of being Monty’s old lady repulsed me, but it could provide the information I’d been seeking. I’d already sold my soul and there was nothing I wouldn’t do to make them pay for what they’d done to my brother and fiancé.

  “However, I think you’re more valuable as long as Crew wants you.” My heart stuttered, then started pounding rapidly as he continued. “That boy, he’s always been a loose cannon. An enigma.” His gaze flashed to mine as he wandered around the room. “Difficult to find a weakness, ya know?”

  I nodded faintly, my gaze following him, as I kept him in my line of sight.

  “But you,” he wagged a finger at me. “You might be the ticket.” He stopped, so close I could smell onions on his breath. “You, my dear, are going to help me, and in return when he’s tired of you, and he will get tired of you,” Monty warned, his finger stroking my cheek gently. “I will make sure you don’t get passed around my guys like one of those pussy blow up dolls.”