Devil's Advocate: Vlad (The Bedlam Horde MC Book 1)

by Sarah Zolton Arthur

  He’s lucky I’m in a good mood because it means the punch I level on him gets him in the gut and not the face, breaking his nose.

  His breath leaves him in a gust as he doubles over, clutching his middle. “Just… more for me.” The kid’s got balls, I’ll give him that. To take the hit and keep on standing.

  “Anyone else got shit to say?” I ask. Not one of them speaks up. “Good. Then Nic, let me show you my room. I need to pack some things to bring up with me.”

  Nicola follows me to my room and the second she crosses the threshold, I slam the door by pushing her up against it, taking her lips in a brutal kiss. It can’t lead to anything more because we’ve got to get Greer up to the cabin to rest, but the way she whines when I pull away, it’s clear she wants it as much as I do.

  Kissing her wasn’t one of my brightest ideas because now I’ve got the taste of her on my tongue and it just makes me want more. After scrubbing my hands over my face to clear my head, she and I set to work packing jeans, tees, boxers, and my toothbrush. Shaving shit. Some of my favorite snacks that I keep in my room. I’ll share with my woman. I don’t share with the brothers.

  On the way back out to the common, I call Sarge over to me. “Brother, get some sleep. I’m bringing the kid with me for now. You get a few hours in, then you can come join us—or not. Your choice now.”

  The hard look he levels me, I know his answer before he gives it. “I’ll be there,” he says, exactly as I expected.

  “Right.” I pat his arm. “Virgin, get your unsullied ass out here.”

  “Yes, prez,” the kid says back. He throws the towel he’d been wiping his hands on down onto the bar top and jogs out from behind it to join us. “What ya need?”

  “Moving you to guard duty. Sarge needs to rest. You’re driving Greer to the cabin—just follow me. You’ll stay until Sarge is ready to head up the mountain.”

  “Are you serious?” His excitement’s warranted. Guard duty is the next step before patch-in. How a man handles himself here lets us know if we can trust a recruit or not. Granted, guard duty used to mean ride-a-longs with shipments or at distribution checkpoints. But as I can’t think of anything more important at this point than the women. We’ll see how the kid handles it. Not that I’m expecting any problems to arise, but as with the Chit situation, you never know.

  Nic and I take the back roads, each one a thrill ride as we maneuver the sharp turns and steep drop-offs. She squeals, hanging on tighter. I gun and break, causing skids in spots it’s safe to skid. The virgin follows behind us with Greer in the truck. He has to think I’ve lost my mind. This, right now, is exactly what we need. Freedom. The biker life.

  Eventually, it gets too dangerous to keep goofing around and I steady us. I turn up the drive with the kid following behind. With Nic now, I’m glad to have this place. Too bad Greer needs us still. I wouldn’t mind more time here alone, just Nic and me. We still have several surfaces to break in and that can’t happen with a roommate.

  Greer and the virgin follow us inside. “Bathroom over there.” I point to the door. “Utility closet.” I point to the smaller door. “The rest you can clearly see. There’s hot and cold water from the well and we have indoor plumbing. Not that I expect you to shower, but you don’t have to go out into the woods to take a shit.”

  His face pinks beneath his baby stubble. Jesus, the kid’s wet behind the ears if talking about taking a shit makes him blush.

  “Who wants to play Euchre?” I’d rather be fucking, but as that’s off the table right now, Euchre will keep my mind off Nic’s delectable pussy. I walk to the kitchen and pull open the junk drawer where I keep the playing cards.

  My phone rings. Goddammit. “What?” I bark, then close my eyes to get a handle on my irritation because it’s not Sarge’s fault that I’m ready to chill with my girls and don’t want to deal with club business for a while. “Sorry, brother. What you need?”

  “Rage’s making moves. Drive by on the compound. Prospect on the gate was hit. Arm wound. He’ll be fine, but we need you.”

  “Fuck,” I growl. “I’m coming.” Then I hang up. “Situation at the club, Nic. You and Greer will be safer here with the virgin.”

  The virgin makes sure he’s already got a bullet in the chamber waiting for any possible intruder.

  “Nic. The Baby Glock. Keep it with you. Shoot to kill.”

  That’s when Greer whimpers and I feel bad for putting her through this again, but we can’t take the chance. “Lie down for a bit, sweetheart. Nic and the virgin got this. It’s just precaution.”

  Nic helps Greer to the sofa. She drags an extra pillow and blanket from where I keep them in the utility closet. Once Greer is settled, I hold my hand out to my woman and tug as she takes it, rolling her into my body to kiss her short but sweet. Then eyes to both she and the virgin, I nod and head for the door. “Lock this behind me.”

  Why couldn’t the fucker stay down?

  14

  Nicola

  “Do you know how to play Euchre?” I ask the prospect they call “the virgin.”

  “Not one damn bit,” he replies, and I don’t know why, but the way he says it, I totally pop out a laugh.

  “You know rummy?”

  “I know poker.”

  “Great,” I respond. “Get the pretzels from the cupboard.” I can’t miss the look he shoots me when he stands to go grab the pretzels and at that look, I laugh harder. “For the ante. I don’t have any money and anyway, we both know you could forget about your cut if you took money from me. You’d be lucky to walk away with your balls intact.”

  “Pretzels work,” he says.

  He deals. I have a basic card cutting, shuffling knowledge, but this kid has a future in Vegas if the whole biker thing doesn’t work for him.

  “You know Hold ’Em?” he asks.

  “Not one bit. I know Stud and Draw.”

  The kid grumbles, his head shaking, but starts dealing. “Right. Then we’re playing Stud.”

  We start with the same number of pretzels, but ten minutes in his pile is significantly bigger than mine. Every so often, I check on Greer, who fell asleep after we got her comfortable on the sofa.

  I go all in, hoping he’ll think I’ve got a better hand than I do. It’s my Hail Mary and the look he shoots me has me thinking he’s falling for it until I realize what that look’s about. He presses his finger to his lips, shushing me. In the distance, we hear the rumbling of a bike engine.

  The virgin pulls out his phone to check the time. Vlad hasn’t been gone long enough. My Lords’ friends would have called first before dropping in for a visit. My whole body goes alert. He pulls his gun and walks to the front door.

  “Lock it behind me, yeah?” he says. “If I can take care of it outside, better for you and her.” He tips his head towards Greer.

  “Okay,” I reply, breathy, scared. The virgin slips outside and the second the door clicks, I run to lock it. Then I wait. The way the windows are situated over the kitchen sink and one along the wall, it’s impossible to see outside, see what’s going on.

  The cabin stays cool, but sweat drips down my brow. The ball in the pit of my stomach refuses to be ignored. I feel it. Oh, hell, I feel it all. All the fear. All the anxiety. The engine rumble grows louder. Vlad needs to know. I swipe up my phone and press his contact.

  It goes to freaking voicemail.

  No, no, no… Next I try Sarge. Voicemail again. As I scroll down the list of names, I get to Reaper. He said call anytime. I press his number.

  “Who is this?” he asks.

  “Reaper, It’s Nic.”

  “Nic?” There’s an edge to his question. “What’s up?”

  “Vlad got called away. I’m here with the virgin. He’s outside. There’s a bike coming our way and we’ve both got a bad feeling.” Before I can say any more, the rumble sounds from outside the cabin. “Can you hear that?”

  “I hear it. Couldn’t get to Vlad?”

  “Went to voicemail. Sar
ge too.”

  “Right. I’ll try calling again. I’m on my way, sweetheart.” My heart relaxes too soon. The pop, pop sound comes loud enough for Reaper to hear. “Fuck,” he yells. “Hide. Now. I’m coming.”

  Hide? Where do I hide? There’s no place to hide in this one room, save maybe the bathtub. Greer and I won’t both fit in the tub, but I don’t think they know about her. If I move her, they might only come after me.

  Please let those shots come from the virgin. Oh, I think it, but in my heart of hearts, I know there’s no chance in hell. “Come on, sweetie,” I whisper to Greer, shaking her lightly. “Keep quiet. We need to get you hidden.”

  She hardly has a chance to focus on my face before I whisk her to the bathroom.

  “Get in the tub and don’t make a sound. Whatever you hear, you don’t make a sound, understand?”

  Slowly, a look of confusion on her face, she shakes her head and I help her into the tub. She lies down, disappearing completely when I pull back the curtain. I take in a breath and head back into the main room, shutting the bathroom door behind me. At that moment, the pounding on the door starts.

  “Come on, bitch!” a man not the virgin yells. “I gotta work for it, yer gonna feel it.”

  Obviously, I’m not just going to stroll over and invite him in for tea. I drop to hide behind the sofa. The pounding gets louder, more violent.

  “Bitch!” he screams at me. “Fucking let me in, cunt!” He’s getting angrier, but I can’t make my feet move to the door. It wouldn’t help anyway. The man wouldn’t have driven all this way if he didn’t already have plans for me.

  The gun goes off again, three more pops, and where the lock was, there’s a hole, wood splinters on the door and on the floor. I duck lower behind the sofa, tucking myself into a ball, tears rolling down my face. Snot runs down my nose.

  “Where you hiding, cunt?” Oh, god, he’s inside now. His boots clomp against the wood flooring and it takes only a second for him to stand at the edge of the sofa, looking down his nose at me. Disgust mars his features. The large scar running down his face brings an extra dose of sinister to his appearance.

  “Wh-Who are you?” I ask and the bastard smiles, as if my fear brings him joy. He smiles, and it’s the kind to let me know I’m in a world of trouble.

  “Up. Yer comin’ with me.”

  “Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?” I don’t have a death wish, but I also don’t know that I could survive captivity again. At least dying now would put me out of my misery.

  “Now what fun would that be? Chit told me the traitor’s reaction to you.”

  “The traitor?” I ask.

  “Vlad, cunt.” He balls his fist, knocking me across the jaw. My eyes water. Upon impact, my teeth came down on the inside of my cheek, cutting it all up to hell. My mouth fills with the taste of blood. “What better way for him to hurt than knowing he couldn’t protect you? The way that bitch took my club, he needs to hurt.”

  I don’t like that, as much for Vlad as myself. This guy is unstable at best. My head’s a mess. Dizzy from the punch. Confused from being scared out of my mind. He moves too fast. One second, his fist rests at his side again. In the next, that same fist is full of my hair as he pulls me to stand, shaking me violently.

  “Where’s the other bitch?”

  He knows about Greer? How does he know about Greer? We were so careful. God, did he have more men on us? “She… She’s still in the hospital,” I answer. “She was really sick.”

  “Don’t lie. Bitch left today.”

  “She did, but once we got to the club, her fever spiked again.” Yes. That sounds plausible. “She was readmitted.”

  “Pity. I could’ve played with her too.” His fist comes at me again, there’s an explosion of pain behind my right eye and I go down for the count.

  When my eyes open again, it’s to a continuous throbbing ache in my head. Having experienced it once before, I’m fairly certain he’s fractured my eye socket. It’s puffy and feels tender like when I look in the mirror, I’ll see an ugly, ugly bruise. Thankfully, it’s only my head to hurt. Since I doubt he’d be gentle, I don’t think he’s played yet.

  The pain grows worse when pushing up to sit as if all the blood clogging my sinuses settles over my injury. It’s dark wherever I am, and the place smells like refuse. Heavy, heavy refuse. There’s not much in the way of head space. The pitch dark is disorienting, forcing me to feel around to get my bearings. My hand knocks into what I think is a lantern. It feels like one. There’s a knob. I twist it, hearing a click, and the space floods with dim, greenish light. It’s a camp lantern.

  As my eyes adjust, my fear ratchets up another notch. There’s not a lot of head space, which I took in a moment ago, but it’s wide, probably wide enough for four people if it weren’t filled with so much stuff. Trash, like old bean cans and potato chip bags. Empty cereal boxes. Candy wrappers. There’s bloody gauze and cotton balls. A pile of bloody clothing. Unopened food. Dirty dishes like a camp plate, fork, and spoon. A two-toned Eddie Bauer backpack with the initials JGS embroidered on it. Navy blue for the majority of the bag and fawn-colored suede for the bottom. It’s far too expensive a bag for whoever stays here and probably stolen.

  The side of my face stings the longer the air hits it and the skin and muscle underneath are tender. Without a mirror to look in, I can only assume there’s some open scrapes, mean scrapes across the majority of my face along with the bruising, there’s probably some cuts as well.

  It can’t be this easy, left to fend for myself in a hovel? That man couldn’t have left me alone, which means he’s lurking around somewhere, possibly waiting for me to make an escape attempt. A set up or not, I have to at least try to find a way out of this nightmare.

  My heartbeat races. I keep telling myself to calm down but it’s hard to listen to the good advice with the uncertainty of the unknown getting its hooks in me and not letting go. I push up on to my knees, my head grazing the ceiling, and I wobble from dizziness.

  As quiet as possible, I slide across the dirt floor for the exit. There’s no door, but there’s a heavy blackout curtain covering a hole. When I pull it aside, there’re sticks that have been tied together and lean against the structure blocking the curtain. Daylight is beyond the sticks. It sucks having to stop to take in my surroundings, wasting time I know I don’t have. The hovel actually looks like an animal den from the outside. Something most people would give wide berth to when hiking. And they’d have to hike because we’re somewhere in a forest. On a mountain, in a forest. The brightness hurts my eyes, but the first full breaths of clean air pulled into my lungs makes me want to cry with joy.

  In my life, I should know better than to acknowledge any joy. It’s fleeting at best. In this case, it only lasts long enough for me to get two steps toward freedom when that voice reaches my ears again.

  “Goin’ somewhere?”

  15

  Vlad

  The kid on the gate will be fine, but it’s gotten out of control. We had to put the fear of god into a wrinkled, slower-than-shit, retired doctor Cutter found for us. He might’ve been slow, but he was still sharp and dug the bullet from the kid’s bicep, stitching him up. He didn’t want to come with us, but he did want to call the cops, which is exactly why we can’t go to the hospital. Cops get called for gunshot wounds.

  What we need is a doctor on retainer. One who doesn’t mind us coming in the backdoor, and for enough cash, doesn’t mind ‘forgetting’ to inform the police. I need to think things through—what the hell our next steps are supposed to be. The kid getting shot was a message for the club, but more of one for me.

  Staked to a tree about a hundred feet from the compound, but beyond where the kid could see at his post behind the gate, we found a note: Give us Chit and Bart.

  I can’t give them Chit or Bart, which left me the uncomfortable task of telling my lieutenants why. All the lieutenants except Reaper. I haven’t heard from in a while and with all that’s
gone down, I’m on edge as to why.

  And fuck if the minute I finish telling the men what happened my phone vibrates with a call from the man himself.

  “Where you at?” I ask.

  “Fuck, brother, the virgin’s dead and Nic’s gone.”

  “What?” I bark.

  “Nic called. She couldn’t reach you or Sarge.”

  “Must’ve been out of signal range,” I fire back. I’d never ignore a call from Nic.

  “Doesn’t matter now. She said they heard pipes. Told her I was on my way. Well, I’m fucking here staring at the virgin with a bullet to the chest and two to the head. The door is wide open and Nic’s fucking gone.”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I yell. “Greer?”

  “Found her in the tub unhurt. Said Nic hid her there.”

  “On my way,” I answer before ending the call and shoving it in my pocket, on my way out of the clubhouse.

  Sarge stands from his stool, moving with me. “What about Greer?”

  “Virgin’s dead, Nic’s gone. Greer’s at the cabin. I’ve got to go.”

  Not surprisingly, the brother follows close, running along with me. We haul ass from the club with the quickness of a superhero team. What should’ve taken forty-five minutes to get to the cabin takes us a little over half that before we’re descending on the property.

  Reap had the sense to cover the virgin up with a sheet because it’s not like we have to worry about corrupting a crime scene. We already know who’s behind it and we aren’t involving the police.

  Greer’s a huddled mess of snot and tears holding her knees and rocking in the corner crying her goddamn heart out. I don’t have to go to her because Sarge rushes past me, then she’s in the air, in his arms while he moves them to the recliner next to the sofa.

  “Got you, baby girl,” he whispers in her hair. “Sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been here.”

  And it’s at this point that I get angry. How many times has Nic put herself in harm’s way for this bitch? I like her, but Nic is gone and I snap. “How could you just let him take her?” I yell. “She fucking puts her life on the line for you and you just keep letting her.”