Save Me (Disciples MC #1)

by Stone, Abigail

  "What do you mean?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

  She had started to sweat during the ride and to her complete and utter dismay, the buds of her breasts were showing through the fabric of her tank top, creating a wet t-shirt effect.

  "Isn't that kind of the American dream?” Leo finished, "to fit in somewhere?"

  Layla had goose bumps. She broke eye contact with Leo, kicking lightly at the dirt as he exhaled a thin ring of smoke, pausing in the doorway of the cabin.

  "The fantasy is always better than the reality." Layla finally retaliated.

  "Is yours?" Leo shot back.

  Wow, Layla thought. He's good.

  "Touché,” she replied, her voice dry.

  Leo reached for Layla's hand, grabbing it tightly. She tried to pull away but he forced her to look at him, his eyes burning intensely against hers.

  "Well?”

  "Why do you care?”

  Her voice was shaky and uneven.

  "What about you?” she questioned, "what's so great about your life? Mr. Alternative biker."

  Leo laughed.

  "Well, it depends how you look at it.”

  "Am I rich and famous like you? Not even close. Hell, most days I can barely afford gas. But...I'm happy. I'm healthy as far as I can tell. And well…women tend to find me attractive,” he paused and Layla blushed, her cheeks flushing red.

  "All that's gotta matter for something right?”

  Layla nodded, following Leo inside the tiny cabin.

  “What is this place?”

  She shivered. There was something about the cabin that gave her the creeps. Maybe it was the fact that it was in the middle of the nowhere – far away from Hollywood or any other sign of civilization. Or at least the one she was used to.

  "This,” Leo began, extending his arms, “is our club house.”

  “Club house?” Layla asked.

  Leo nodded, reaching in the pocket of his jacket for a pack of matches and lighting one. Layla’s eyes adjusted to the new source of light. On the wall, the words ‘Disciples MC’ were painted in red paint above the anarchy logo. Layla swallowed hard as Leo grabbed her sweaty palm, pulling her completely inside the cabin as the bottles of liquor clanked against each other in his leather backpack. He shut the door, eliminating the last of the sunlight. Aside from the match, they were more or less completely in the dark. Layla could feel a lump surfacing in her throat. If she had to admit to any one solid fear – it would be darkness.

  There was something so unsettling about not knowing what awaited her.

  "Please just take me back,” she begged, her voice strained.

  There was a long silence before Leo finally spoke.

  “I can’t do that just yet.”

  He reached down, lighting four candles that sat on a kitchen table and spreading them out across the room to disperse the lighting. Layla took in her surroundings. The cabin was tiny and outdated, with peeling wallpaper and large gaudy furniture that was covered in a thin layer of dust. It was then that her mind began to drift. Why had Leo brought her here? Why had he lied to everyone at the hospital about being her fiancé?

  On the wall, there were pictures of a family. Layla focused her eyes on a large portrait that hung in the center of the wall in front of her. The family appeared happy and stable and were lined up based on height, all of them smiling.

  Layla spotted Leo immediately. He was much younger in the picture but every bit as handsome and intense looking as he was now. He stood in the very back of the line – being the tallest – and he was the only one who wasn’t really smiling.

  In many ways, he stood out like a sore thumb. It wasn't just his lack of a smile, either. It was the fact that they were all blondes, with sparkling blue eyes, thin lips and very soft facial features. Leo was tall and brooding, with wide set dark eyes, full lips, and dark wavy hair. If there was ever a perfect case for the existence of a "milk man" father – Leo was it. In fact, Layla had come to the conclusion just by looking at the picture that there was no way Leo was his father’s son.

  Noticing that Layla was distracted, Leo finally spoke.

  "Let me guess,” he began, "you're thinking....who is that perfect looking family and how did they end up with someone like me?"

  Ouch, Layla thought. She shook her head.

  "No,” she responded, "I was just...thinking how nice your family looks.

  Leo shrugged.

  "Try cult like,” he said simply.

  Layla wanted so badly to pry, to dissect his statement, but she didn't. Somehow, it had taken getting her stomach pumped for her manners to kick in.

  "I do have them to thank for this place though,” he continued, removing his jacket and flexing his meaty, tattooed arms.

  "Yeah. It's a real lap of luxury," Layla commented, her normal sarcastic banter bubbling to the surface.

  Leo laughed, approaching the small windows and reaching forward to pry off the heavy pieces of plywood that were nailed to them.

  Once they were off, natural light poured inside the room, bringing Layla's attention to things she hadn't noticed before.

  Like the fact that the place was practically covered – wall to wall – with empty liquor bottles just like the kind Leo had nicked from the convenience store earlier.

  It was beginning to make sense now.

  His slurred speech. The fact that he smelled heavily of alcohol. And most of all – the incident at the store. He was an addict no different than her. Layla watched as he pulled all four of the large bottles of liquor from his bag, setting them on the table one by one.

  Okay, Layla thought. This was past the point of creepy.

  "Look," Layla managed, her voice shaky and uneven, "I need you to explain what's going on. I need you to explain why I'm in a cabin in the middle of ...” she paused, realizing sullenly that she had no idea where she was.

  "Who even knows where?” she continued, exasperated, "with a strange man and a bunch of liquor! I need you to explain to me why you told them you were my fiancé! Why you broke me out of the hospital and most importantly.... why you saved my life!"

  She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the impact she felt positive was coming.

  But surprisingly, it never did.

  Instead, Leo sat down at the table, cracking open the bottle of liquor closest to him and taking a sip. Then, he spoke, “I’ll tell you everything I know,” he began.

  “But you have to help me fill in the blanks.”

  CHOICES

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  Present

  "So you found me in your bath tub –" Layla interrupted, blushing, "naked...and you called 911?"

  Just when Layla had thought she had it all figured out – the blind spots in her memory had failed her once again. Leo nodded, downing the last of the bitter liquid from the glass bottle in his hand.

  “Why did you do it?” she whispered.

  “Is that what you think?” Leo asked.

  "What?"

  "That I'd find a woman passed and foaming out the mouth in my bathtub and not attempt to save her life?"

  He laughed.

  "I know I might look a little scary, princess, but I'm no monster.

  "Okay," Layla continued, her voice soft as she tried to put together all the pieces of the puzzle.

  "Then what?"

  Leo swallowed hard. This was the part he was worried about. The part he didn't know how to explain. Hell, he hardly even understood it himself. Why had he come back for her?

  "Then...you were brought to the hospital,” he continued, his words slow and precise, "and that's when I found out who you were, your stage identity I mean."

  Layla laughed. Feeling dizzy, she stumbled towards an overstuffed leather chair in the middle of the room, collapsing on it and folding her legs up under herself. Maybe if she could just take a minute to focus on the events of that night, it would all come flooding back. Leo took another drink, reaching for his leather cut and pulling o
ut the pack of cigarettes inside, lighting one before offering the pack to Layla.

  "I guess you don't watch a lot of movies then,” she joked sullenly.

  Leo shook his head with a shrug.

  "Anyway, continue,” she urged.

  "That's...kind of It,” he said simply, his bushy eyebrows furrowed.

  "No–” Layla interrupted, "I mean...why did you come back for me? And why are we here?"

  Shit, Leo thought, rubbing a hand over his chiseled jaw.

  "You know," he interrupted, cracking open another liquor bottle and taking a drink of the warm liquid, "you look like someone I know."

  "Used to know,” he quickly corrected.

  Small talk. That was all it was. Anything to distract him from the situation – and the conversation – he was narrowly avoiding. He looked down at his phone. Richie had yet to call him back or answer any of his phone calls. Leo was at the clubhouse like he had been instructed. The question was, where was he?

  Layla wasn't sure how, but somehow in the midst of Leo's story, they had ended up in the small bedroom in the back of the cabin. Leo had said he needed to change his clothing and without thinking, Layla had followed him inside the room, too immersed in his words to realize her mistake.

  "Oh." she exclaimed, covering her eyes in embarrassment as Leo pulled off his shirt.

  "Shit sorry. I didn't realize –” she stuttered, turning towards the door to leave.

  Leo laughed, reaching in a dusty dresser drawer and pulling out a plain V-neck shirt, pulling it over his head.

  “It’s okay, princess,” he said, pushing past her, "like I was saying, you…remind me of someone.”

  he nodded at Layla, his eyes lingering on her breasts for just a second too long.

  "Yeah?” she replied.

  Maybe that explained why he was so enamored with her.

  "Yeah," Leo whispered.

  He was blown away by the light in her eyes as she listened to him speak, her voluminous breasts bulging over the white tank top he had bought her as she leaned forward, willing Leo to continue.

  "A woman I met years ago and…kind of had a thing with,” he whispered.

  "Oh I get it," Layla joked, "the one who got away?"

  Leo shook his head. Then, changing his mind, he nodded. Layla followed him back into the living room, taking a seat beside him on the couch.

  "Something like that."

  He stretched his legs, resting them on the table.

  "Want a drink?” he offered.

  Then, remembering that Layla had overdosed not even twenty-four hours before – he retracted his offer.

  "Probably not a good idea,” he said simply.

  Layla rolled her eyes.

  "You're hardly one to talk,” she shot back, mocking Leo as he took a drink, the liquid burning against his throat as he swallowed.

  He turned to Layla, grabbing her by the hand and taking her off guard.

  "What...are you doing?" she questioned.

  "Making you shut up," Leo said sternly, pulling Layla's body against his as she began to tense up against him, "You're a smart ass. You know that?"

  Layla shivered, goose bumps running down her spine at the touch of Leo's skin against hers. She slapped him playfully against the chest, her heart racing.

  "So," she whispered.

  None of it made sense. But then – did anything? Leo held Layla tightly by the waist, his eyes never leaving hers as he spoke, his words slow and precise.

  "I came back for you because there's just...something about you. Something intoxicating."

  A cloud of uncertainty clouded in Leo's eyes at the weight of his words. He wasn't entirely sure how Layla would react, but he had to get it off his chest. She swallowed hard, a deep breath escaping her lips as he bent forward, slowly closing the distance between them. His lips were just a few inches away from hers when a loud banging noise sounded from behind them – followed by three large, intimidating men tumbling through the front door.

  –

  Layla let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she was holding in. Her mouth was dry and her feet felt as though they had been stapled to the ground. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Leo’s unconscious body on the floor. It had all kind of happened in slow motion.

  "Please!" she gasped, stumbling backwards against a large wooden desk as all three of the men slowly closed in on her.

  "Don’t do this,” she begged, flinching and letting out a high pitched scream as the largest of the three men grabbed her roughly by the hair, tossing her like a rag doll onto the floor beside Leo's limp body.

  "Who is the bitch?” she heard the man who had threw her ask a taller man behind him. Layla’s heart stopped. She recognized him. There were gaps in her memory, entire blind spots really, but she knew she had seen his battered face somewhere before. The look in his eyes told her she was right.

  He knew her.

  Layla opened her mouth to speak, but no words came to the surface.

  "I don't know," he finally said, his voice deep and confused, "This isn't right…"

  Layla whimpered in pain, bringing her scrapped knees to her chest as she watched the third man pace through the cabin, sticking his head in every room.

  "There's no one else here boss,” he finally said.

  The larger man laughed.

  "No shit,” he said, clearing his throat and spitting on the ground. He reached inside his leather jacket, pulling out a handgun and pointing it square at the man across from him, who held up his arms to defend himself with haste.

  "Where's the money Richie?” he asked, his voice indicting that he was done playing games.

  Layla shifted backwards against Leo's unconscious body, terrified by the scene that was unfolding in front of her. It was like a something out of one of her movies. Only, this was real life.

  "Look man…there's a safe...” Richie managed, stumbling over his words, "there’s no need for guns. Put that thing away and I’ll go look for it."

  The man, whose name Layla still didn't know, simply laughed.

  "I thought I told you I make the rules?” he said sternly, keeping the gun steadily aimed at Richie’s forehead, "now...unless you want both of their blood on your hands...” he nodded at Layla and Leo.

  Layla shuddered as her eyes made contact with Richie’s. His name wasn’t familiar to her, but his face was. He looked nervous and scared despite is rugged stature, but Layla figured that might have been because he had a gun aimed at his head.

  Keeping his arms in the air, Richie walked into the bedroom where Layla and Leo had been just a few moments before, both of the men following his every movement.

  "Well?” the man holding the gun bellowed after Richie had been searching for a few minutes, "time is up."

  The sound of his fingers pulling down on the safety feature on the gun sent a shiver up Layla's spine.

  "Wait!” she heard herself cry out.

  The man turned around, pointing the gun at her in the process. She shut her eyes tightly, willing herself to continue speaking despite the fact that she felt physically ill.

  "M – Maybe –” she stuttered, "maybe I can help. I have money. Lots of it actually"

  It was then that Leo began to stir awake beside her, letting out a loud groan of pain as he came to. The man pointed the gun at him then, nodding at Layla.

  "Stand up and walk towards me,” he commanded her sternly.

  Layla did as she was told, slowly approaching the large burly man before her.

  "Who the fuck are you!” she heard Leo's voice bellow from behind her.

  A look of recognition flashed in his eyes.

  "Richie?” he asked, confused, "what's going on man?"

  It was then that the third man stepped forward from where had had been standing in the doorway, grabbing Leo roughly by the neck and pulling out a gun of his own, pressing it against his throbbing temple.

  "If everyone just follows a few simple orders,” he began, his voice one of the most ter
rifying Layla had ever heard,"no one will get hurt.”

  He paused, lighting a cigarette.

  "That clear?"

  Leo, Layla and Richie nodded their heads.

  "Now Leo," he finished, exhaling a ring of smoke.

  "I need you to show me to your safe."

  –

  Past

  Leo was in trouble. He had been attempting to narrowly avoid the situation for weeks, but based on the nature of his phone call with Richie, it appeared as though his bad decisions had finally managed to catch up with him. He had made a deal with the wrong people. Dangerous people. And now – he owed them a lot of money. More money than he had ever seen in his life. Collateral costs. Late fees. All of that adds up fast, even more so when you're dealing with hardened criminals. Long story short – these guys were out for vengeance and Leo knew that if he didn't act quickly, he would be putting more than just himself in danger.

  Apparently, they had already gotten to Richie. It explained why he had been bruised and battered, and a lump of guilt surfaced in Leo’s throat.

  It was his fault.

  He kicked at the gravel, screaming into the sky at the top of his lungs as rage simmered through his veins. What had he done? How could he have allowed the situation to get this out of control? And more than that – why was it all coming to a head now?

  As Leo climbed on the seat of his shiny black bike, starting up the ignition, he cursed himself for ever taking out to loan at all. He had told himself it was for the club. Rationalized it with the fact that the boys needed new bikes and a club house they could be proud of – not his parent’s old abandoned cabin up in Desert Shore. But the fact of the matter was, Leo had blown every last dime of the fifty thousand dollar loan he had been given all on himself. It started with booze and escalated to hookers and overpriced call girls. Simple pleasures that made Leo feel more alive. Then came the bigger things. The things that were harder, but not entirely impossible to hide. Upgrades to his bike. Cross country rides that he'd take on a whim with a different woman every time– never planning ahead in regards to the cost of food, hotel rooms or gas. The money was gone long before the club ever knew of its existence.