Snare: Road Kill MC (A Novel)

by Marata Eros

  Noose retreats and promptly lights a cig, blowing a few trademark rings together and pushing them toward the high, sloped ceiling.

  “I thought Rose was trying to get ya to quit?” Lariat asks, his bright eyes taking in the smoke.

  “She is.”

  Everyone laughs. Noose, the immovable object.

  Back to Sara. “I know, I understand. We have other business.”

  Viper raises his hand then lets it fall back on the table. “Good that ya do, because when you guys get a pussy fixation, all the regular club shit gets shuffled. And let me tell you, Chaos is not going away. Diablo got dealt his end, and that's fucking dandy. But there's more info about new shit. Shit they're starting again. And they're looking for some payback.”

  Viper's eyes meet each man's.

  I can't hold his stare. I'd been avoiding going after Sara for years. Finally, her welfare became more of a concern than my pride. She dumped me. Sara made it clear she didn't want me, but I—Snare, the man—have to know. Fuck that, I need to know if she's okay. Working at a titty bar, no matter how classy, is not okay. Not by any stretch. The Sara I knew was hesitant, innocent.

  I glance at the photos. This girl is a siren. Sultry. My gaze caresses her face, her eyes holding more than they should.

  I've done enough running from what happened. I'm done with school. I have my degree in business management. I do a lot of stuff Lariat doesn't do with the accounting end. Keeps shit legit. The brothers know better than to tease me about my creative writing minor. If it weren't for my journal, and what it’s full of, I would have slit my wrists a hundred years ago.

  My journal is full of every love letter I've ever written to Sara. Every wound my father put on her, I take away with another page of my writing. I don't type my shit out. I write it. Longhand. I suffer over each word, sweating out my feelings silently, on paper.

  How's catharsis for a fancy-pants word? That feel-good circle I write toward never seems to close, but I still want it to. I want her.

  “Mover wants to meet,” Viper announces.

  Low groans sound around the table.

  I don't comment that we haven't closed the conversation about Sara. Viper will get back to it.

  I turn my attention to him as Noose stacks the pictures of Sara into a neat pile then slides them into a large manila folder.

  Our eyes meet as he stabs out his smoke in a glass ashtray.

  “No way, Viper,” Storm says. “Two presidents coming together in one place? No like it. No like.” Sometimes Storm can say shit that makes sense. I don't want Viper meeting with the president of Chaos Riders.

  The space fills with mutterings that echo my thoughts.

  “They want to reel us into their game. Girls, drugs—hell, we're already doing guns. We don't need their action.” Lariat shrugs. The voice of caution.

  Noose shoots him a look. They glare at each other. They don't seem to have mended fences over what happened in Afghanistan.

  “Problem is, if we don't meet with them, it's a silent answer. They'll think we grew uteruses.”

  I snort and Noose laughs, breaking the tension.

  Noose looks at his crotch. “Nope. No uterus here.”

  Wring chuckles. “Not yet,” he says and winks.

  Noose scowls, baring his teeth.

  “Anyways, let's concentrate on the meeting. In a very public place and see what this Mover's got to say.”

  “I don't like giving him an audience,” Lariat says quietly. “He might not have been informed about everything Diablo did, but he knew about Ned's flesh trafficking, and he did nothing. Same as consent.”

  “Mover was a good man.”

  Wring looks at Viper. “Past tense.”

  Viper nods. “My guess is he felt like someone had to run that shit, it might as well be him.”

  “Practical.” Lariat's eyes are flat.

  “Very,” Viper says but not like he's happy, like he's tired.

  “I love pussy,” Storm begins, and we groan. He ignores us, going on, “But I'm not in love with kidnapping, drugging, and raping chicks. I don't care if Mover thought he'd control things better. Look at the fuck-up with Ned?”

  Assent all around. That bastard's role in the trafficking thing put the spotlight on the bank, our account. Good thing Ned had been playing both MCs for money, and since his interest was involved, he'd buried things. Too well.

  Road Kill MC lost everything.

  “We had great money. Ned ended that. Four hundred K—gone.” Viper's watery eyes, pale like diluted pool water, skate over all of us. “We won't do time—hell, the boys in blue don't even know of our involvement, so thank fuck for that. But”—Viper waves his finger in the air—“we have dick for capital, thanks to that putz. We need to meet with Chaos. We must show that we've got the balls, and we have to explore the possibility of doing business with them. They're in the same rough-and-tumble mess we are.”

  He'd said it.

  Noose pushes away from the wall. “Diablo was the cocksucker that killed Anna. He... fucked with Rose, touched her.” Noose's voice vibrates with contained emotion. All eyes are studiously on their hands. “I'm not gonna support taking long showers, getting up close and personal with these fucks. Vince,” Noose says, using Viper's real name, “ya can't be serious. Chaos?” He snorts. “No. Just—no.” And with that, he leans back against the wall, one knee bent while his foot is propped flat against it.

  Noose cups his hand around a cig, and a flame glows like an orange eye then is gone. He fires a smoke ring out of his mouth like a vapor cannon.

  Viper drums his fingers on the table. “Back to this in a minute.” His eyes study my face for a handful of seconds.

  “I'll be straight with you, Snare.”

  Like there's another way with the prez. Viper folds his hands, leaning forward. “Like I told Noose, we took a chance on Rose a year ago. Being as how he figured she'd be his old lady, it worked out. They got hitched, got a kid, whole nine yards. But this shit with Chaos will take resources.” His shrewd eyes meet mine. “We need to get back on top of the heap here first. Your stepsister”—God love him, there's only a slight pause—“is of secondary consideration.”

  I dip my head, breathing to calm myself. She's of utmost consideration. I got that now. No lying to myself. Sara's the only family I have. But I admit I don't feel very brotherly toward her.

  Not. One. Bit.

  I feel possessive, protective. All the old feelings that have been dormant come rushing back like they never left. Choking me.

  Suffocating.

  I stare him down. I know I'm challenging. I know we're going to vote on this.

  This is the life I wanted. I chose to be an outlaw. A one percenter. I didn't know that I would be handicapped without Sara. “I have to feel like my brothers will back me.”

  Viper frowns. “You know we're here for you. Here for life. It's about manpower. There's fifteen brothers and a few prospects. You want Trainer to tail stepsissy? Fine.”

  I stand.

  So does Viper. “Don't blow your fucking stack, Snare. She's a girl you protected when you were young. Fuck, you weren't even a man yet.”

  “His dick worked just fine,” Storm comments.

  I punch him. Knocks his ass out of the chair. Storm lands on the floor in a pile of limbs. “Hey!”

  “Stop!” Viper roars. He glares at us, finally sighing—weary. “I'm not saying she's not important. Sara was important.”

  “She still is,” I say through my teeth.

  “All I'm saying is she's got a life, son. She's made a new life without you in it. You going after her is going to reopen old scars.”

  The one on my face itches with his words. “You think this is the worse thing we suffered together?” I bellow, slapping my forehead where the jagged proof of childhood abuse is etched on my face.

  He doesn't flinch, doesn't take back the steps that put him in front of me. “No. Never said that, Snare. Only that leaving well enough alone
is the better choice.”

  “What if I can't, Viper? What if I have to know if Sara's okay?”

  His exhale is rough. His hands go to his hips, and he looks down, not saying a word.

  “Then you gotta know on your own time. Noose is willing to help because the dumb fuck is suddenly Mr. Sympathy.”

  Everyone laughs but me and Noose.

  Viper's good humor at my expense fades. “But Trainer is all I can spare until this meeting happens with Chaos. I need you to be my sergeant at arms. No waffling about having a vagina, no wailing or gnashing of teeth.”

  “I'm not a pussy,” I bite out.

  Viper nods. “None of us are until we're worried about one.”

  “Isn’t that the fuckinʼ God's honest truth.” This from Noose, practically a speech.

  “Got something to add, Chief,” Noose says. The emptiness of his voice causes me to turn. “That peril shit you were talking about?”

  Viper nods, serious as a heart attack.

  “Thinking his girl might actually be in a spot of trouble after all.” Noose pauses, letting his words sink in. “Riker, Snare's old man, has been sniffing around Sara.”

  My fingertips tingle. “You said that, but I didn't get an explanation.”

  He turns in my direction. Shrugs. “No time. Church first.”

  “Go on.”

  “Intel's churning that your younger brother and sister are testifying against Riker.”

  My mouth drops open. I'm catching flies with the thing. I snap it shut. Denny and Micah would be... I'm twenty-six; they're eighteen. I don't ask what they're saying. Should have kept up on where they were, what happened to them. But once kids get in the system, there's nothing anyone can do. Especially not an early-twenties college student.

  “Apparently, Riker's under the fucked-up idea that Sara can testify in his favor.”

  “What the fuck?” I yell. “That fucker is not going to get within ten miles of Sara.”

  Noose looks away, and my stomach drops with the gesture.

  “Talk to me, Noose.”

  “Fuck,” he mutters.

  The brothers crowd around, and the smell of danger is in the air. Aside from women, nothing on this earth is more attractive to a man.

  “He's seen her strip. Hell, he's a regular.”

  “Mother. Fucker.” I think I'll spontaneously combust or something.

  “Free country, man. Can't stop your perv dad from checking out sister's goods.” Storm must have a death wish.

  It takes three other brothers to pull me off him.

  I'm not really pissed at Storm, he's just an easy pathway for my anger. I'm pissed at myself.

  Should have moved heaven and earth to claim Sara. She was my property when I tore her innocence away in that dark closet five years ago.

  Sara's my property now.

  6

  Sara

  Jaylin drags a stool from the closet inside Lola's tiny studio apartment and moves it in front of a large fish tank with holes pierced through the top third.

  There's no fish inside. Just Rex. He spins on his wheel. Doing him. Hamster stuff.

  Jaylin has a handful of chopped carrots.

  “Don't give him too much, baby girl.”

  Jaylin giggles, covering her mouth with a hand. “He's so cute!” she squeals.

  Rex looks like a chubby champagne-colored rat.

  We have to wait until nighttime to feed Rex. He hides in his little hamster hut until late. Jaylin is used to coaxing him with delicious carrots. He'll get all poopy if she gives him too much.

  Jaylin stuffs small diced carrots through a hole.

  Rex squiggles over and, sniffing the carrot piece, seems to inhale it. His cute hamster nose twitches. After he eats about four more pieces, I tell Jaylin that's enough.

  “Ah!” she gripes.

  “Time for bed, monkey.”

  She hops off the stool, drags it back into the closet, and comes to my side. Her wide blue eyes look up into mine. “Mommy still sad?”

  I shake my head. Grief-stricken, actually. But I have more than just me to consider. My inhale is sharp, my voice, dull. “Nope. The school gave me a little time to find another school for my monkey.”

  She makes a disdainful face. “Monkeys throw their poop.”

  I laugh, taking her hand and leading her toward the door. “Oh really? Who told you that?”

  “Collin from school.”

  A four-year-old expert on shit throwing. Fantastic. I wonder how Ms. Cronin would feel about those special details being discussed between nursery rhymes. Yeah.

  I exhale softly. “Okay, but you don't throw your poop?” I smile, quirking my eyebrow.

  Jaylin giggles. “No, gross.” Her nose scrunches. “I go somewhere else now?” Jaylin rapidly switches the subject.

  I nod. I don't know where yet. I'm trying to avoid a day care setting. But I can't do much about that. As it is, I have to have an older woman come in and sit on the couch until two in the morning when my shift ends.

  “Don't worry, Jaylin. Mommy will find another good school.”

  “Okay.” Her voice is unsure.

  I feel like shit.

  We walk out of Lola's apartment and move to the elevator. The apartment building is old, defunct. But I love it. Lola loves it because it was built in the late 1930s and has that vintage flavor. The building is pretty tired around the edges, but the spaces are bigger than the newer buildings and the view is nice. Lots of the old apartments have been made into condos, and they were built closer to the water back in the day. I can lift my kitchen window and sometimes smell the Sound. If there's no cloud cover, I can see the edge of the pier.

  I'm on a lease with an option to own. I got in right before they spent thirty grand on an elevator. If I'd tried to get a lease after that, my rent would be two thousand a month instead of fifteen hundred. For a seven- hundred-square-foot apartment. This is the first time we've had a home for more than six months.

  I hide who we are, pay cash for our living expenses with my tips, and gave Jaylin a different last name than mine. Jaylin Isabelle. Always knew my middle name was good for something besides being yelled at.

  I smile, letting Jaylin hit the familiar number ten button, softly lit within the new elevator panel.

  The original staircase opens to each level where there’s access to the elevator. Ornate wrought-iron rails run together like fancy black bones of metal.

  I hear footsteps and turn automatically. The elevator chime dings, signaling the door opening.

  But two bloodshot eyes hold me captive. I don't think. I react.

  The bandage of my self-control rips off. I go so fast into survival mode it's like I never left it.

  Snare's father moves from the top of the wrought-iron railing without a sound.

  I spin into the elevator with Jaylin smashed against my front and smack the flat of my palm on the red button that says “close door.”

  Riker moves to the gap, his fingers sinking into the space.

  I swing my purse up into his hand as the elevator doors shut with a hissing whisper.

  We begin ascending with a lurch.

  I dial 9-1-1.

  “Mommy, who was that man?” Jaylin asks, her eyes wide, her heartbeat slamming against my forearm. I tighten my hold around her front as a woman's voice fills my cell. “Nine-One-One, what is your emergency?”

  Shit.

  What is my emergency? I can't very well say, Oh, my stepfather's found me and wants to do... what, exactly? I can't say anything. Snare might get dragged into everything.

  Riker Locklear is dangerous.

  “Ah—no emergency.” I thumb swipe End, and my phone immediately rings back seconds later. I shut it off.

  “Mommy, who's calling?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Where's that man?”

  My hand hurts from gripping the cell as I cover my heart. The beats of my fear thud against my fingers.

  “I don't know.”
<
br />   “Mommy, I'm scared.”

  I hug her more tightly against my side.

  Me too.

  *

  I peek outside the elevator door.

  Tightening my hold on Jaylin, I make a run for my apartment door. Riker stands in front of it.

  I halt. A sound of unadulterated fear slips from my mouth.

  He holds up a hand. The ghost of Snare seems to echo its way across his features. Where Snare's face is all angles and planes of rugged handsomeness, Riker's features are brutal, sharp. Like knives of flesh.

  Meant to hurt.

  I flinch, and Jaylin begins to cry. “It's okay, baby,” I lie.

  I look into the mud brown of Riker's eyes, his hair swept back in a tight black braid, graying at the temples. “Get away from us.”

  “Sara. I'm not gonna hurt you.”

  Right. If I had a dollar for every time he said that before his fist found my face, I'd be rich.

  “Right,” I say in a breathy voice, hating the fear that threads through my answer. I don't ask about my mom. I don't care. She chose Riker. She chose this abusive fucker over my welfare.

  He takes a step forward, and I hitch Jaylin higher on my hip, retreating a step.

  “Stay back.”

  “Fine.” His hand falls to his side. “I need a favor.”

  A sharp bark of laughter shoots out of me. “Are you kidding? Just—go. I'm a grown woman, I have a child, just leave me alone.”

  “I know you're a grown woman, Sara.” His voice is like sexual vapor caught in the air between us.

  I suck in a painful breath. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  His eyes pin me from ten feet away. I'd know the look anywhere. I've seen it a thousand times.

  He knows I'm an exotic dancer.

  On the heels of that revelation, it occurs to me that he might be one of the Dicks. If not the biggest Dick.

  Fear weakens my knees. Love for Jaylin straightens my spine. “Get out of here, Riker. I don't have to give you anything.”

  “How's Snare?”

  His question takes me by surprise. I switch Jaylin to my other arm. She's so heavy. Her tears have dried to salty tracks on her cheeks.

  Riker's eyes move over Jaylin.

  Don't you look at my child.