Outlaw Kind of Love

by Nicole Snow

  “Doubtful. Now, get the hell out of my house.”

  Rita's stupid smile melted. The mercenary in the hallway came to her and escorted her out.

  At least someone else gets to see Mister Hyde. I just wish it wasn't her.

  As soon as Dad's mercenary returned, he walked near the headboard and began to untie me. When the second restraint was off, I let my arms fall, neither fighting or wiping the whore's disgusting spit off my face and neck.

  “Why? Why are you letting me go?”

  “Because I need you to get cleaned up.” Dad turned to the merc. “Bring this girl some clean clothes and makeup. Much as I'd like to leave her messy a little while longer, I don't think our client would appreciate that.”

  I sat up, balling my hands in my lap.

  “Rest up, Rachel. You've got a very long flight ahead of you tomorrow morning. My friend Mister Pinkton here will help you clean up.” He walked toward the door, but stopped near at the frame. “Take some time to think about what you did. If you'd been a good girl in Med school like I always wanted, maybe things would've gone down differently. You chose this, Rachel. Not me.”

  The door closed. If it weren't for the grim faced man in the suit staring at me, I would've screamed and screamed until my old window shattered.

  Last thing I ever thought I'd be doing after all that went down was taking Dad's advice. Then again, there was nothing else to do but think, not after I wiped away bitch Rita's spit and soothed the red marks she'd left on my neck.

  Darkness had fallen outside. The guard dog in the suit now occupied the rocking chair. He'd moved it near the door, toying with his smart phone.

  We both knew I wasn't going to make a break for it. Even if I somehow got past him, I wouldn't get past the other guys in the house. There must've been at least half a dozen patrolling every hallway if the voices I overheard through my guard's walkie-talkie were any indication.

  And so, I thought.

  I thought about Jack. My faith in him and the club hadn't wavered. Our argument last night changed nothing.

  He'll come for me. I know he will.

  And what then?

  That last question echoed in my brain, over and over, a relentless and painful chatterbox. It just wouldn't shut up no matter how hard I tried to make it.

  I'd betrayed him.

  This house, this hellish life I'd lived before he saved me, was the real reason I couldn't have a baby with him. Maybe never.

  How could I make a new life, a family, when the only one I'd ever known was fucked up and sick to the core?

  For the first time since arriving at the house, the big wall I'd thrown up crumbled. I paced around the room and sat on the bed, facing the window instead.

  The tears were coming, and I was going to make damned sure that asshole guarding the door didn't see anything.

  Outside, the clouds had rolled in, smothering the landscape in pitch black Dakota night, dark as the black gold pumped from our soil. I didn't even have the moon and stars to keep me company tonight.

  It seemed like the entire world had decided to put me in a box, wrap it up, and tie the string around it monstrously tight.

  There was a good chance Jack wouldn't find out in time to come for me. Hell, and that was assuming they were winning against the Raging Skulls. Barring a miracle, I'd be on my way to misty Seattle, straight into the arms of another monster who'd do God knows what.

  “I can't do this anymore,” I whispered.

  “Ma'am?” The guard's voice startled me.

  “Nothing,” I said loudly, annoyed at exposing my vulnerability like that.

  Who was I kidding anyway? Yes, life with the club had toughened me up a little. I missed Jack, Frannie, and all the guys who helped show I could be more than a scared little girl.

  But deep down inside, that's exactly who I was. This room reminded me of that, and so did the great blackness outside, painfully obvious manifestations of the shadow that had always loomed over my life.

  I, Rachel Hargrove, was cursed to suffer. Doubly cursed to realize the inevitable too.

  Sinking down on the bed, I thought some more. I thought about how much I missed Jack and Frannie. I thought about how fucking bad I wished I could take everything back, if only to leave them with sweet memories when I went away.

  Mostly, I just thought about how I was screwed either way. If I wasn't spirited off to a whole new horror tomorrow, then I'd face disappointing Jack and Frannie all over again.

  Especially if I went through with my deepest wish. I laughed bitterly when I imagined getting my way, becoming an old lady. If there was anything I was less cut out for...

  “Ma'am? It's time for you to wake up.”

  I hadn't even realized I fell asleep. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, shaking the bodyguard's hand away.

  “What is it?” I groaned.

  “Your ride to the airport leaves in half an hour.”

  X: Merciless (Jack)

  The sun had climbed high into the sky when we roared into Sioux Falls. It was a convoy of twenty altogether, eighteen bikes and two big vans, all my closest brothers, as well as cousins from other charters.

  I gripped my Harley's handles tighter when we fanned out along those South Dakota streets.

  Payback was so close I could taste it.

  I visualized the Raging Skulls' ratty little clubhouse we'd seen in our intel photos. Those fucks had broken into our home, vandalized our daughters, killed our club's oldest and wisest.

  Today, we were gonna bite down on our enemies until bitter, sticky revenge ran down our chins. Today, we were feasting on blood.

  Both our MCs were founded by military men who returned to a country where nobody gave a shit. That attitude carried over to our wars, and unlike Uncle Sam's operations, Geneva rules apply here.

  Just old fashioned, deeply primal codes of conduct fashioned in blood and steel.

  “We're coming up on their HQ now. Got a couple big dogs at the gate.” Creeper's voice came over the radio. I'd sent him ahead of our convoy by several blocks to scope things out.

  “Deploying sandman dust now.”

  Fuck, I hoped the drugs in those sausages worked as fast as they were supposed to. We were ready for guys, but the dogs almost threw us for a loop. Having them barking and bringing out the bastards before we were ready – or worse – running around tearing at our legs was a complication we didn't need.

  Thank God Warlock suggested the sandman idea before we left. The two bikes ahead of mine turned the corner, and their shithole came into view.

  “They're going down!” Creeper yelled. “Everything's all clear for the van.”

  Off to the sides, I watched the pit bulls go down behind the gates. The big dogs would be out during the whole battle. With any luck, maybe they'd wake up later and mop up what was left of their owners, assuming the Skulls were as big of assholes to those dogs as they were to everybody else.

  “Let's go! Bolt, Tank, ram that fucker straight up their ass!” I yelled.

  “You got it, Prez.”

  I pulled my bike to the curb, and the brothers on their bikes behind me followed my lead. The first van sped up, turned the corner, and punched right through the gate with the well worn Raging Skulls logo on it.

  Watching the van's back door pop open brought a smile to my face. Our boys with the big guns came running out, and there wasn't even one jackass to confront us yet.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Warlock shouted through the radio.

  My VP was right behind them, pressing his men on. I watched his frizzy hair and beard bounce as they went straight to the door.

  “That's our signal, guys. Come on! Let's get right behind Warlock.”

  I led the charge, slowing down when I went through the gate to make sure our second van was behind me. I was riding straight toward the big garage, and only swerved away at the last second.

  The van didn't stop. Its reinforced bumper smashed right through the flimsy metal doors.

  My brothers w
ere in. Over the radio, everybody roared. In the van, Shady and Pounce backed up and pumped the accelerator, crushing the Skulls' bikes inside the garage against the wall.

  Those assholes weren't going anywhere now. They were all ours.

  Gunfire began to echo in my ears. Warlock and his team had switched on their radios. The din inside their clubhouse made me hop off my bike and move to the service door further back, the auxiliary entrance Warlock and his team hadn't taken.

  “Let's go, brothers,” I called to my guys. They were right behind me.

  I drew my gun. One swift kick felled the door, and we entered, staring down a long hallway winding toward what looked like an area with sleeping rooms.

  I kicked open the first door. Creeper was right behind me. The place was so damned dark and smoky he had to pull off those oversized shades, letting his bright blue eyes shine through the darkness.

  “What the fuck is this?” A skinny Skulls member looked up from a worn mattress in the first room.

  He wasn't alone. I raised my gun and fired carefully over the whore, nailing him right between the eyes on the second shot.

  The girl screamed. Who could blame her?

  “Shit! Get over there and calm her down,” I ordered. “We're way past needing the element of surprise, but we don't need everyone in this area knowing where we are.”

  I ran into the hall where my other brothers were waiting. They followed my lead, deeper into the complex. The roars of fighting were getting louder, and that told me were about to link up with Warlock's crew.

  So far, so good, I thought cautiously, knowing how fast shit like this could turn in the opposite direction.

  The hall tapered off in two directions. One on side, the Raging Skulls meeting room. The open door and flipped over tables said the fighting had already moved through there.

  On the other, the main bar, with messy boxes of shot up beer and fallen stools littering the ground.

  A bullet cracked past my head. I dove underneath the nearby counter, looking up after a couple seconds had passed.

  “Go! Flank those fuckers. They've got Warlock and the guys pinned down.”

  My brothers ran past like troopers. The little niche behind the bar turned into another hall, and I pushed on, straight toward what looked like a big kitchen area.

  The place was filthy. Cigarette butts, old bottles, and even a few needles were strewn across on the dirty floor.

  I turned my nose up. The Prairie Devils didn't allow that shit. Hell, maybe we'd caught them in mid-piss because half the Skulls were too drugged to fight our ambush.

  Whatever. I wasn't going to sneer at anything that made the vengeance strike easier.

  The door to the backroom was locked. I pushed, throwing my weight into it. I thought I'd have to peel myself away and kick when it fell open.

  I tumbled inside, and barely caught myself by the knees before falling on my ass.

  No, not a storage room after all. It looked like a small office, and the big man behind the desk was just as surprised to see me as I was him.

  We recognized each other right away. I raised my gun, but Venom was faster.

  He got off three shots. One missed, and two hit me square in the chest.

  I rocked back, stunned by the bone breaking force. A second later, I was moving forward again.

  He was too dumbstruck that I hadn't fallen to fire again. Gave me all the time I needed.

  Thank God. Those vests we got from the Canadians on that last run up to International Falls did their thing.

  I lunged, leaping across his desk and knocking him out of his chair. I punched the gun out of his hand in our struggled. A couple more twists gave me the leverage I needed to slam the butt of my handgun into his face.

  One, two, three big smacks.

  He wasn't squirming as much anymore, looking up at me all bloodied, the hatred in his eyes going blind with trauma.

  “You fucked up for the last time, asshole. Your club belongs to us now, and we're gonna raze it to the ground.”

  Venom blubbered, blood and spittle pooling near one corner of his lips. I thought about how I'd seen his face the first time I rescued my baby girl. This sick, twisted fuck beneath me had been holding her prisoner, and then he'd almost done it a second time, choosing my Pop instead.

  The animal instinct to kill roared up. I saw bright red, and it had nothing to do with the blood pouring down his face from the spot where I'd ripped open his temple.

  “I don't normally take joy in killing anybody, even an asshole who deserves it,” I growled, lowering my face to his. “But you're the exception. Get this through your puny skull, bitch boy: you will never, ever hurt my girl again. We're gonna bury every last one of you assholes deep for what you did.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” he blubbered, raising his hands weakly. “It's war, Throttle. You know that. I killed your Pop.”

  Fucking monster!

  My ears could barely stand this asshole talking, but my fists weren't listening to one more word. I punched him on the opposite side of his face two more times. Only held back because I hadn't quite decided how I wanted to kill him yet.

  “Shut the fuck up. You've done unspeakable things to my family, and now I'm going to make sure you and your brothers are finished forever.” I lifted the handgun, planting it directly on his forehead. “Quiet, VP. I'm giving you one last chance to take it like a man.”

  His face twisted. I'd seen it before: grown men tearing up and blubbering like babies when they knew they were about to die.

  “No, no...please! I...I've got something you need.”

  I blinked. Hard. He was really testing my patience now.

  This asshole couldn't offer me anything. Certainly nothing that would bring back Pop or soften his near rape of the girl I loved more than anything.

  I should've ended it then, but my fucking curiosity got the better of me.

  “Spill it!” I screamed.

  “You kill me, you'll never know what we had on that asshole Mayor.” Venom smiled, licking blood off his curled lips. “You want that, right? I'll tell you about it. Everything. Your MC can control that little bitch, just like we tried –“

  I fired.

  The gunshot filled the entire room, shattering my hearing for an instant. Thick blood spattered in all directions, and it was the first thing I heard pooling behind his blown out head.

  Kicking myself upright again, I turned away from his body in disgust.

  Shit! Just in time. Another shadowy figure was speed walking toward me. I raised my gun, ready to defense myself.

  “Holy shit! It's Creeper, Prez. Don't shoot.”

  My heart did a full 360 in my chest. I lowered the gun and wiped my face, waving him in.

  “What's going on out there?”

  “Warlock and the boys are just mopping shit up now. They're all dead. Turns out their President's been dead for a solid month, and this asshole's been filling in without telling anybody.” Creeper slipped past me and kicked at Venom's body. “At least, that's what this one Prospect we captured tells us. Only guy whose brains we haven't blown out yet. The rest all went down fighting, or were too high and stupid to surrender.”

  “Jesus. Any casualties from our MC?”

  “Two guys. Snuff and Cerberus from the Dickinson crew.” Creeper looked down.

  “We'll tap the memorial fund for their families when we get home.” Without thinking, my hand covered my President patch, right across my heart.

  I didn't really know the men from our sibling charter. Deep inside, I was secretly glad none of my immediate brothers had fallen. Still, it was never pleasant to lose guys, even veteran MC members who knew damned well what kinds of risks these missions carried.

  “There's something else you ought to see,” Creeper said. “If you'll follow me, Prez...”

  He led the way, back toward the row of dingy rooms. All their doors were smashed open and hanging on their hinges. I recognized the place where I'd taken my first kill. The man'
s blood stained that nasty looking mattress that filled the room, empty of everything else except junk food wrappers and used syringes.

  “What a filthy fucking club,” I said. “These bastards are in bad shape. Can't believe there was a time when we thought about a truce.”

  “I know this is gonna piss you off,” Creeper warned. “Next room. It gets worse.”

  Bolt and Magus looked up when we entered. They stepped aside, revealing two crying young girls. One of them was around twenty, and the other couldn't have been a day over fifteen.

  “What's this?” I folded my arms, trying to stifle that sinking feeling in my gut.

  You already know...

  “Found 'em in two of the rooms,” Bolt said. “You're looking at the Skulls' prized whores. Two little girls they added this past month, sold to them from somewhere in Indiana. Bastards were gonna add a third soon. You know who.”

  “Enough.” I raised my hand. “Jesus, get them something to eat, and then let's get them out of here. We can drop them off with the police in Fargo.”

  One of the girls looked up at me, tears in her eyes. Bruises lined her cheeks, the same dark purple hue matching several spots on her skinny arms. She had that dead eyed look I'd seen in junkies before.

  I turned away and shook my head. She looked like a younger version of Rach.

  My Rachel. Fuck, she's still mine. Nothing about that bullshit between us last night changes anything.

  I flexed my hands. Every time I thought about how easily she could've wound up here, beaten and drugged and raped like these poor girls, I wanted to start driving my fists through walls.

  Hold tight, baby girl. I'm coming home soon, and we're gonna set all this straight.

  Just then, my phone rang. I didn't recognize the hysterical voice on the other end at first. Then a familiar tone cut through the screams.

  “Calm down!” I said firmly. “Frannie? Is that you?”

  “Jack, it's Rachel. She's gone.”

  My heart dropped to my stomach like a dead weight, right through my intestines. I braced my hand on the wall, mad blood seething through my veins.

  “What?”

  “That whore, Rita. We caught her pulling out of the gas station near Fargo with a big van a little ways ahead of her. We followed her to the Mayor's house...”