by Avelyn Paige
“What happened to the man I met at Red’s that night? I know you were focused more on getting laid that night, but the asshole façade you put on for the club doesn’t feel like it’s the real you. You care about the people here.”
He pauses before answering me, sending me hope that he’s carefully analyzing the meaning behind my words, but even I’m not that naïve. There’s not a single thing about this man that screams careful. His mouth should come with a parental guidance warning sign before he says a word.
“Don’t, Dani. I’m not the man you seem to think I am. There’s not a heart of gold buried underneath my black heart. I’m not made to love anyone but myself. I was born and bred to kill and service justice, not to love. Now, go back to sleep. I need to rest before I handle business tomorrow. I’d advise you not to leave the room until we get back. You’ll be safer in here after your little stunt tonight.”
Hero may be tough on the outside, but I felt his heart that night at the club, even in a drunken state of mind. What man would dance with a drunken woman instead of trying to convince her to come back to his place for a one-night stand? If he was looking for an easy lay that night, he didn’t have to look too far with all the skanks that fill this club on a regular basis. He has all the women he could ever want within reach, yet he was working to seduce me that night, or at least seemed to be before Ricca killed the mood. Just thinking about her sends both rage and worry running through my mind. I wonder where she is right now and whether she’s okay. I guess I’ll never know the answer to that.
“Your heart may be black, Hero, but even assholes have them.”
Soft snores vibrate from his body just as the last word leaves my lips. I meant what I said. He may be a black-hearted son-of-a-bitch when the club is around, but the man I met the night in the bar has feelings buried in that thick skull of his somewhere. His breathing relaxes my body with each cycle, and I slowly drift back to sleep.
The sound of Harley’s firing up in the driveway wakes me. I’m still in bed, but I wake wrapped around his pillow. His cologne lightly covers the soft fabric. Why do guys like him always smell so good? It’s just not fair sometimes. Sliding out of the bed, I walk to the window and watch bike after bike drive away from the clubhouse. After the last Harley leaves, the clubhouse is eerily quiet. A pin could drop downstairs and I’d probably hear it striking the ground. Knowing Hero ordered me to stay in his room while he was gone, I debate whether I should break that rule. I resolve that in light of what happened last night, I might be safer in here for the time being.
Shuffling to the bathroom, I quickly shower and brush my teeth. Realizing I forgot my toothbrush back in my room, I decide just to use his and conveniently forget to tell him about it. I doubt he’d have the same reaction that Christian had in Fifty Shades of Grey. Hero reminds me of Christian. He’s moody, unpredictable and takes what he wants without batting an eye. Well, not exactly alike. His tattoos, Harley, and outlaw lifestyle aren’t exactly screaming billionaire playboy. Just imagining Hero wearing a suit makes me giggle. He’d look so different with his hair slicked back. Almost normal really, but I know that normal isn’t a word you could use to describe him. Sexy, yes. A stubborn fucking asshole that melts me right out of my panties in a crowded room? Fuck yes! He’s the only man that could make me wet and want to throat punch him all in the same moment. It’s not fucking fair to womankind to have Hero on this planet.
Wrapping my hair up in a towel, I settle onto the small sofa and waste the day watching TV. My stomach begins to grumble a few hours later, and I realize I can’t leave the room to eat. Maybe sneaking out and down into the kitchen will be innocent enough. The clubhouse is still as silent as a sinner in church, so I know not many people are out and about. Cracking the door, I peer out into the hallway, finding it empty. Sliding quietly between the small opening of the door, I tiptoe down the stairs and sneak into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, I find a plate of prepared sandwiches. The girls must have been busy last night in preparation for their triumphant return. Picking a ham and Swiss hoagie, I gather up my sandwich and a can of soda and head back to the stairway.
Just as I turn the corner, Daisy and Ruby walk into the main room. I’m not sure whether or not my containment orders were delivered to those left behind, so I decide to hole up in the kitchen until they leave. Daisy stares absentmindedly out of the window, assumedly watching for a sign of their return. Ruby plops down on the couch, flicking on the TV.
“Do you think they’ll be back soon?” Daisy asks, still watching outside. “It’s been hours since they left. Shouldn’t they be back now?”
“It’s fine, Daisy. Taking care of business takes time when you want to come back alive. Quit worrying yourself into a stay in crazy land. Either they come back, or they don’t. It’s not exactly like we are old ladies to the club.” Ruby doesn’t once look at Daisy while she speaks to her, continuing to stay focused on the TV.
“I thought I would be an old lady now, Ruby. Hero seemed to like me well enough before Dani showed up. I was hoping he’d patch me.”
“You’re delusional, Daisy. Hero isn’t the kind of guy who’s looking for one pussy for the rest of his life. He’ll always be a player. Even the little bitch that’s holed up in his room right now won’t change a man like him. If she can’t change his mind, the rest of us are fucked.”
“I know, Rube. I just don’t understand why he moved her into his room. He despises her. Hell, he told me to scream louder the last time he fucked me so she’d hear me. He doesn’t care about her. All he wants to do is fuck her into submission and toss her aside just like he did with us.”
“Sometimes, Daisy, men don’t even see what they want even when it is staring them in the face.”
Ruby pats the seat next to her in an attempt to break Daisy’s attention away from outside. Daisy pushes away from the window and settles into the seat next to Ruby. Leaning her head on Ruby’s shoulder, both of the girls quietly watch TV together. Several awkward minutes later, rumbling engines begin to pull into the drive again. Both girls jump from the couch and dart outside.
Taking the chance to make it back up to his room undetected, I toss my gathered food aside and rush back up the stairs and skid into his room. Cheers erupt outside signaling a victory. At least Hero will be in a semi-good mood knowing they won. Well, that is if he comes back. The image of his lifeless body lying in a ditch in the middle of nowhere flashes through my mind just as he bursts through the door. He’s covered in blood from head to toe. Without a word, he walks past me and straight into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I hear the water turn on and the glass shower door shut. I internally debate whether to attempt to check on him in the bathroom. The blood could very well be his.
After internally arguing with myself for twenty minutes, I decide to risk my neck and see if he needs help. Quietly rapping on the door, I listen for his reply. No answer is returned. Softly turning the knob, I quietly open the door enough to see into the mirror on the wall. Hero is fully clothed in the shower. He sits on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest and the hot water spraying down on him. His face is buried in his knees and his chest heaves with sobs. Hero is falling apart in the shower. Something happened to break this man so quickly. I want to go to him, but even I know that it wouldn’t be wise on my part. Quietly closing the door behind me, I return to the couch and wait for him to come out on his own. As much as I want to rush to him and comfort him, I know better than to intrude on a private moment with him.
What the hell happened out there to cause this man to shatter like a China doll? I just hope I’m not the next piece that shatters in the fallout.
I woke up in the middle of the night with her arm over my chest and one of her legs intertwined with mine. Holy hell, seeing her draped over my body was a sexy as fuck sight to behold. I’m not sure whether she was using me for the warmth or that her body naturally gravitated to me once her mind just shut down for the night, but whatever the reason was
, I liked it. The feel of her body against mine soothed me as I gently stroked her back as she peacefully slept beside me with her hair fanned around her head like a dark crown. Tonight was the first night in weeks that I didn’t relive my brothers in arms being blown to fucking bits. The barrage of death and darkness hit every single night without being prompted so I can only assume she is the reason for their MIA status. It’s a welcome relief. Her body formed a barrier from the darkness that haunts me and blocked my ghosts from emerging. The rhythm of her heart beat pressed against me regulates mine.
To call this woman beautiful is the understatement of the year. She’s every man’s dream girl, and here she is in bed with a man like me. The higher powers in the universe must be getting a good laugh at my expense on this one. I know I’m not the right kind of man for her. She deserves the American dream kind of life with a rich husband, kids, a Labrador, and a house with a white picket fence and a front porch swing. Not some fucked up and rough around the edges biker. She’s not meant to live the life of a biker’s lover, but I’ll keep her for as long as the universe lets me. I lay there holding her until a soft knock raps on my door. It’s time to take care of business.
I carefully lift her limbs from mine and slide away from her body. Why does it feel like I’m leaving part of me lying in that bed with her? I shouldn’t feel this way about her in the least. She could still be a fucking spy, and here I am skirting around the rules trying to get to know her. I’m not made for loving a woman like her, and I need to make myself believe that even if she does move into the lover category in my life, she’ll never be more than that. I watch her chest rise and fall with each breath for a few minutes, savoring the moment. The vision that lies before me will forever be present in my mind.
As much as I want to spend the day in bed with her, I need to get my head on straight and in the game for our mission today. Shoving my chick emotions to the side, I stalk to the dresser and remove a black t-shirt and dark-washed jeans. Getting dressed quickly, I retrieve a black leather pouch of knives along with two loaded handguns that lie hidden in a false shelf in the dresser. I pull each shining blade from their sheath to check their sharpness. If I was to be disarmed, these knives may determine whether I live or die in the field of battle today. Grabbing my cut from the back of the couch, I gather my weapons and head toward the door. Stopping for just a moment, I stare one last time at Dani’s sleeping form. God, I hope we can clear her name today. I want the chance to see her underneath me just once before she runs for the hills.
Sliding from my room, I meet Voodoo and Tyson in the hallway. We walk downstairs in a tension-filled silence. The things our club is going to do today are not going to be easy to deal with. Anyone with a soul will be stained for life after executing our attack. Good thing for me, my soul shattered in Iraq.
Making our way outside to the line of bikes in the back drive, I walk to my Harley and pull my bullet proof vest from my saddlebags after setting my knife pack down on the seat. The sun has to yet to rise and probably won’t begin to shine until after we make it back home. Well, if we make it back to the clubhouse. Shrugging off my cut, I wrap the heavy vest around me and Velcro it tightly in place. As I pull my cut back over my shoulders, Raze walks past me and begins the suiting up process. Next, I strap my knife holsters around my thighs and fill each slot with a razor sharp blade. As a precautionary measure, two of the blades I shove into my riding boots.
Straddling my bike, I wait for Raze to signal for us to leave. The ride to their hidden clubhouse will only take about fifteen to twenty minutes, but we want to sneak in as quietly as we can so we’re going to kill the engines on the bikes and hide them in a wooded section about a quarter of a mile away. We will use the woods as our cover for the longer range weaponry. Our amigo assured us that they would all be asleep until well after sunrise, so we want to use the darkness of night to hide us as much as possible. If they can’t see us, they can’t target us once the melee begins. We need to have as much in our favor as we can to achieve our goals.
Raze waves his hand in the air and we fire our bikes. He leads the pack as we cruise away side by side to the south. I let the chilled desert night breeze wrap around my body as we ride into the night. Our amigo’s intel proves truthful so far as the wooded area comes into view on the left side of the road fifteen minutes into our ride. Cutting the lights on our bikes, we ease into the woods and kill the engines. Sliding off my bike, I listen for any noise in the woods surrounding us, but all I hear are desert insects chirping in the night. Raze stands at the edge of the woods watching the darkened clubhouse up the road. Had our amigo not given us the address, we’d have never known it was an active residence. One of Trax’s men took one of our club’s cages and drove by yesterday morning to do recon for us. He reported back that the bikes were well-hidden, and that very few people were visible on the grounds. They’d gone to lockdown after they massacred our friends knowing we would come after them. The element of surprise wasn’t with us, but the numbers were. Our club outnumbers them five to one. Their former VP squealed the location after Ratchet pried off his fingernails one by one with a pair of needle nose pliers. We had the men, and we had the locations. The fight was in our favor for once.
I move to stand next to Raze and survey the area around us. There’s not a single building for miles around their compound, which is good news for us. We won’t have to deal with noisy neighbors calling the local police department over a noise complaint. Raze quietly instructs the men to fan out. Leaving the cover of the woods, we form a line and quietly walk toward the building. Ratchet and a few of the other guys stay behind in the woods with sniper rifles. They can pick off the men from a distance if necessary. We get to within one hundred feet of the house when Raze raises his hand to halt us.
“This is it. I need four guys to get close enough to the house to break the windows and throw in tear gas. They should start to run outside and we’ll pick them off as they exit. Leave the women and children alone. They could have some of Ace’s women in that building and I don’t want them harmed. If you find Enrico or any of the officers, I want them brought to me alive,” Raze orders. Pulling my guns from my holsters, I click off the safeties as the four men stealthily walk toward the building. The sound of shattering glass echoes off the surrounding mountains just before the tear gas begins to pour out of the buildings. The gas falls like a fog around the building as bangs and screams spill from the inside.
People begin to bolt from the smell of the gas into the night on both sides of the building. Raze fires the first shot as we unleash a firestorm of bullets raining down around them. Man after man screams as our lead tears through their bodies; men fall to the ground in piles, writhing in agony. Blood spurts from each shot and sprays behind them into the air. Several minutes pass by after the last man stumbles in a haze from the building. Raze signals for us to move forward. The tear gas fog dissipates by the time we make it to the building. Twenty or so men lay dead or dying on the earth around us.
“Check them,” Raze bellows, “If they aren’t wearing an officer’s patch, shoot them in the head if they aren’t already dead.” His order brings back memories of my tour of duty in Iraq. Insurgents would target convoys with officers and hold them hostage while killing the other men to make a statement. Raze motions for me to follow him into the building as we search for Enrico. As we step into the doorway, I keep my gun drawn. The building is basically furnished at best. We search each room, only finding two women inside, neither of them ours.
We move to clear the building when a scuffing sound comes from behind a dresser. Shoving it aside, we find Enrico huddling behind it in fear. His eyes are wild as he realizes Raze is standing before him. He scrambles to move farther away, but Raze pistol whips him in the head. Enrico falls to the ground unconscious. Raze grabs him and drags him out of the room. Something just doesn’t sit well with me about this room. The vibe coming off this place rattles me and I know I need to sweep it one more time before I leave. I
’m completely missing something here. Searching under the bed and behind the other furniture doesn’t dig up anything. I’m about to give up when I see a tiny light shining underneath a hidden closet door. Prying it open, it reveals rickety staircase going underground.
“Raze!” I yell out the door. “You might want to come see this.”
He quickly joins me, along with Ratchet, Voodoo, and Tyson. We descend the dimly-lit stairs single-file and make our way underground. I find a swinging light switch and pull the metal cord. As the light clicks on and illuminates the room, we find twelve dirty women shackled together along one wall. A few of them look to be dead already, but a few of them move. Holy shit, we found Ace’s women. Voodoo and Tyson break away from us to free them from their bounds while Raze, Ratchet, and I move farther into the room.
“Jesus Christ,” Ratchet exclaims as we make our way through the next doorway.
A wooden table is centered in the room with a naked woman shackled by the legs. She’s covered in dirt and blood. Walking up next to her body, I check her pulse. It’s faint, but she’s still alive. The blonde woman has been brutally beaten and gang-raped from what I can see. I’m not even sure Doc could save her in this condition, but we’ll have to try. As Ratchet moves to release her wrists from her bounds, she stirs and moans in pain. Good, she’s still got fight left in her. That might save her life in the end. He quickens his pace and finally frees her. Gingerly lifting her from the table in his arms, he starts for the door to carry her out when her hair shifts from her face.
“Holy shit,” says Ratchet. “It’s Ricca.”
