by Monica Rossi
Monica Rossi
Dogs of War Motorcycle Club Series, a BBW paranormal shifter romance
Copyright 2014, Monica Rossi
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
[email protected]
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Episode Four
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Episode Five
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Episode Six
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
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The pain was almost more than he could bear, it would be mercy for someone to come and kill him. Mercy, to be let out of this nightmare. He’d lived a hard life, the scars that riddled his face and body gave proof. He’d been in miserable situations, lived in hellholes that a rat wouldn’t call home, he’d gone through shit that would make the most hardened veteran shit his pants, and he’d come out laughing.
But nothing, nothing, could be worse then the cold sterility of his prison. The florescent lights that shone down on him, leaving him to guess whether it was day or night. The needles sticking in his arms, carrying a mix of something that kept him alive, weak, and unable to shift, felt like wooden skewers had been shoved in his veins. The feeding tube that ran down his throat, choking him every moment he was awake, making it impossible to swallow or scream. The cold metal of the gurney he’d been strapped to for what seemed like months. The straps, thick nylon straps, stronger than lumber chains, that dug into his flesh. He’d long since lost the feeling in his feet and arms, but it was cutting into his chest, leaving smears of blood each time he moved even the slightest. And his head, that was the worst of all, the pounding had receded at last, leaving behind a migraine that made him nauseous, a feeling that was not helped by the lights or the smell.
The smell, the goddamned inhuman smell of antiseptic that invaded his nostrils and remained there constantly. At this point the smell by itself could be considered torture.
But the worst was the fear, every footstep brought terror.
“Good morning, are you ready for the day?” the smiling face of the cheerful blonde in the lab coat made his bladder loosen, but she wouldn’t care, they’d taken care of that too. The catheter they’d inserted had long ago gone from sore to numb and he no longer counted that among his tortures.
“We’ve got some exciting things to do today,” she reached onto the stainless steel cart she’d pushed into the room before her and grabbed a canister, unscrewing the top and smelling it like it was some kind of fucking lotion on the beauty aisle of the pharmacy. “This is a new formula, one I actually worked on myself, it’s got lemon balm in it. Want to smell?” She quizzically held the jar up to his face as if he cared how it smelled, he knew it was going to do something horrible to him.
“No?” she shrugged and put the lid back on, “Oh well, I guess you’re not the best person to appreciate my work.” She snapped on some blue latex gloves and grinned. “But before we can get to my new formula we’ve got to test the old one again. Just to confirm the results.”
She smiled and grabbed another jar, one that was on the table beside him, the one they’d been using for days. He knew what this one did.
His eyes grew wider and he tried to shake his head, he’d beg if he could.
“There there, don’t act up,” she opened the jar and dipped her fingers in coming out with a gelatinous blue substance that lived in his nightmares, “I think we’ll use your arm this time. That leg is looking pretty rough from yesterday. You don’t seem to be healing as fast after repeated use. I’ll have to note that.”
She smeared the goo on his arm and his world erupted in flames. Nothing else existed except for the pain. He choked on his feeding tube as he tried to scream, bucking wildly, not caring that the straps dug ever deeper into him.
He knew the pain would continue for hours until he passed out, he knew that they would keep doing this until his mind shattered and left him nothing but a slab of meat on a table. But most of all he knew that he probably deserved it. And for the first time in his life of crime and debauchery, Lynard prayed.
The phone on his desk rang and Red threw his pen, watching it bounce across the paper littered surface and land on the floor. Running his hands through his hair, he let out a sigh as he glanced at the name on the display, he wasn’t in the mood for talking to anyone.
“If this isn’t news about finding Big Dog then I don’t fucking want to hear it,” he said.
The voice on the other end of the line paused, “Well technically it’s about Big Dog, just not finding him.”
“What then? I’ve got a shitload of paperwork piled up on my desk and a bunch of whores bitching about everything under the sun. I haven’t got time for bullshit.”
Red was trying his best to distance himself from the Club. He wanted out and as soon as Big Dog, Trainz, and BillCo were found he was getting out, no matter what. Morgan and Sidney were too important to him to let the lifestyle he lived jeopardize them in any way.
His gaze drifted around the office as he waited for a reply, it was nondescript, there were probably a million offices across the country that looked exactly the same. Beige walls, desk covered in folders and random forms, two fireproof gray filing cabinets in the corner. It was all just run of the mill stuff like you’d see in any back office of a retail store. Except instead of re-ordering soda, or lamps, or scented bath soap, he was ordering leather whips, double headed dildos, and paying the doctor bill for one of the girls who’d gotten gonorrhea. He needed to stop fucking around managing whores and getting in fights that bled over into his personal life, and there was no way he could do that while still patched in to The Dogs. His priorities needed to be Morgan and Sidney, keeping them safe and happy, fuck the rest of it. He needed time to build up a relationship with his daughter and gain Sidney’s trust, she need to know that she wouldn’t be in constant danger just for being with him.
Though, it might already be too late for that.
She’d been avoiding him. He’d lost track of the number of times he had pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the last text she’d sent him.
“I’m so sorry I’ve missed all
your phone calls. I’m super busy at work, trying to catch up from being out for a week. I’ll call you soon.”
He’d also lost track of how many times he’d tried to call her or how many messages he’d left over the last two weeks, he’d even gone by her house and the clinic and she hadn’t been at either place. Something wasn’t right and he’d bet money he knew what it was.
His lifestyle, the violence, the Dogs, everything about the way he lived. Hell, he couldn’t blame her. It had been one fuck up after another since he’d come into her life, but still… he had thought she’d felt something for him, for them. Him and Morgan. He could have sworn that the week they’d spent with her had brought them all closer. He knew she hadn’t been faking the affection she’d shown for Morgan, and he didn’t want to believe she’d lied when she’d said she loved him. Even though he had practically forced her to say it.
Morgan had been asking about Sidney, asking when she was coming over to make them macaroni and cheese, and every time he told her Sidney was busy it dug the knife a little deeper. She could have called and talked to the kid at least.
Red closed his eyes and rested his head on his hand, massaging the temples to try to ease the headache that seemed to be his new ever-present friend. Was it possible for him to screw up any harder?
“Seems the rest of the guys have figured out that Big Dog had something to do with what went down with the Hellhounds. They’re all asking a bunch of question and sitting around chewing up stories like a bunch of old women,” Donny-O answered.
“Shit.” Red really didn’t want to deal with this. “Call Price and ask him to meet us at the Club tonight around seven. We’ll have to fill him in and then let him fill in the rest of the guys.”
“You don’t think Price was in on it with Big Dog? Those two are tight man.”
“Fuck if I know Donny-O, but he’s the goddamned VP and he’s in charge until we get this shit settled.”
After hanging up, Red stared at the open calendar on his desk. He’d promised Morgan he’d take her to see that new Disney movie she’d been talking about non-stop all week. She’d be upset but he knew she’d just look at him with those big beautiful eyes and tell him it was ok. She had the softest, most loving heart he’d ever encountered in another human being and he was ashamed he’d missed most of the first 5 years of her life. It ate at him every time she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek or said, “I love you Daddy.” How could he have taken something so precious and tossed it away?
He had been trying to make up for lost time since they’d moved into their new little home. Playing games with her, reading her stories, pushing her again and again and again on the brand new swing he’d bought at K-Mart. Spending time he’d normally be at the Club, with her.
This probably wasn’t the best time to take a leave of absence from the group, and in fact he should be out searching for Big Dog, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave Morgan for very long. Even though the fact that Demon was out there doing the job that should have been his was annoying the fuck out of him. He had to admit that Demon was the best man for it no matter how much it ate at him, even Red couldn’t deny his superior tracking abilities, as much as he might want to. He hoped Demon would hurry up and find those traitors and bring them back soon, he was ready for this shit to be over.
Ready to start over in a new life, one that involved cutting the lawn and Sunday dinners, not gang wars and kidnappings and whores. A smile slid across his face as he imagined Sidney in an apron burning whatever it was she decided to cook and Morgan playing on the living room floor, happy and safe. A normal average life, that’s all he wanted, just a normal life. All he had to do was find and kill Big Dog , make sure none of the remaining members had anything to do with what happened, turn running the business over to someone else, convince Sidney that he could make a good life for them, and buy a lawn mower. Simple.
“A witch? Like double double toil and trouble witch?” Sidney lethargically rolled her head, which she had laid on her desk in surrender, to the side so she could see Fran.
“Well…” Fran looked around and searched for the right words to say, “Kind of.” She shrugged.
“So I’m kind of a witch?”
“No, you’re a witch but… how the hell is it possible your family didn’t tell you about this?”
“My family isn’t close, I had to learn about sex from National Geographic, I’m sure my mother couldn’t be bothered to tell me about any family genetic mutations, like… witchiness.” She closed her eyes, it was just too much. She remember reading something in high school about the Inquisition or the Salem witch trials, that they would search women and accuse them of being witches if they found any moles or birthmarks. So she couldn’t be a witch, she didn’t have a single mole on her body… well she had found a skin tag that one time, but the doctor had removed that in seconds and had sworn it wasn’t a big deal. Little did he know.
“But still, at least one of your parents has the bloodline and it should have been apparent, didn’t you ever notice something different about your parents? Or at least one of them?”
Sidney thought back, her father worked constantly and her mother was too busy with her own affairs to bother with Sidney except when it suited her purposes. “Hmmm let me think, have I ever walked in on one of them murmuring incantations over a bubbling cauldron of newts. Nope can’t say that I have.”
“Come on Sidney, you know it’s not like that.”
She sat straight up in her chair, suddenly livid, “No. No, I don’t know it’s not like that. I don’t know anything about it. A few weeks ago I was just going about my business and suddenly I have a werewolf in my kitchen, then I get kidnapped by a motorcycle gang of werewolves and now you’re standing here telling me I’m a witch, when I have not once given a poison apple to a princess in a forest. Not once! How the hell am I supposed to know anything about witches except what I’ve seen in movies?”
“Wait, wait, hold up a damn minute? Werewolves?”
“Yes, werewolves. You know, people who change into big burly furry wolf monsters. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”
Fran rolled her eyes, “Of course, but what the fuck were you doing with them and why and how were you kidnapped.”
Sidney opened her mouth to start telling her the whole story but stopped short, “Nope, I’m not going over all of that until I know why you think I’m a witch.”
“I don’t think you’re a witch, you are a witch. You can’t deny what just happened to you.”
“That’s the thing, I don’t know what just happened to me and I’m trying to get you to explain it,” Sidney’s voice rose as she spoke until finally she was yelling at a stunned Francisca.
“We better head over to the Grove. Bree can explain it better than me,” Fran said calmly.
Sidney shrugged her shoulders, “Why the hell not? Let’s close the clinic and head on over to this Grove and see Bree. Screw it, it’s not like there might be a puppy who needs shots and I really don’t need to get paid. Yeah, let’s just go.” She grabbed her purse, which she had never even gotten around to locking up for the day, and headed for the door followed by a nervous Fran, looking for all the world like she’d rather get bitten by a snake than get into a car with Sidney.
***
Sidney rested her head against the passenger side window and watched the countryside pass by. They had opted to drive Fran’s car because: one – Sidney had no idea where they were going and two – she felt like she’d been punched in the gut. How was she supposed to cope with all this? She’d been driven to drink when she found out about Red, and that was bad enough, but to learn that she herself was some mystical creature out of a storybook… that was way too much to ask of a sane logical person. It was hard to dispute what she’d seen with her own eyes though, and her time wondering the paths of her own mind, surrounded by the presence Fran called “The Mother”, had been beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She’d felt safe and loved and
like she fit, like she belonged. It wasn’t something she was used to feeling. Her mother had been cold and distant at her best, at her worst she had complained about all the things Sidney didn’t do well enough to suit her. She was fat, she didn’t socialize enough, she read too much, she was too serious, she didn’t have the right type of friends, she didn’t dress right. Basically, everything she was, everything she did or said was wrong. Everything. Her father hadn’t been around enough to form any kind of relationship at all, and her sister wasn’t interested in her at all. Feeling like she had a place, like there was a perfect space, that held and loved her was overwhelming and she hadn’t known she needed it, but she had.
She knew she should try to explain away the ‘vision’, if that’s what it was, as a hallucination, or some aberration, but she didn’t want to. If it was some trick of her mind it meant she could never go there again, never feel the way she’d felt for that brief space of time. She more than wanted it to be real, she needed it.
The houses grew further and further apart as she pondered her desperate need to be loved and accepted, until they were past the city limits and into the open countryside.
“How far away is it?” Sidney asked.
“We’ve still got a ways,” Fran didn’t look away from the road.
“Why is it so far out, Jesus,” Sidney was getting impatient. Fran was being decidedly closed mouth about the whole situation and Sidney just wanted some answers, “and why are you avoiding questions? You can’t drop a bombshell like that on someone and then go silent. That’s just plain rude.”
Fran raised one shoulder in a half-shrug, “I’m not very good with words or explaining things. You’d probably just get more annoyed with me than if I didn’t say anything at all.”
“I wouldn’t count on it, I’m pretty flippin’ annoyed right now.”
Fran met Sidney’s glare and sighed, “Just relax, lean back, and maybe take a little nap, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”
