JUDE: Lords of Carnage MC

by Daphne Loveling

  I step through, into the middle of a large room with red-tinted bulbs. The door closes behind me.

  Swallowing, I brace my shoulders and approach the large seated figure behind an even larger desk.

  “Hello, kitten,” he oozes. “Got that tiramisu for me?”

  Revolted, but relieved Pecher remembers me well enough to know who sent me and why, I step forward and open my messenger bag. For a split-second — so rapidly I’m not even sure I see it — he tenses, then relaxes as I pull out the parcel wrapped in bag paper.

  He stands, quickly, almost greedily. The keen expression in his eyes startles me, making me wonder what it is I’m actually holding. He steps around the desk and comes toward me, heavy steps thumping on the carpeted floor.

  “Good kitten,” he smirks, and holds out his hand. “I’ll take that now.”

  Wordlessly, I hand it to him, then snatch my hand back as he examines it. I’m alone with him in here. Pecher is the kind of guy who usually has large, burly men flanking him, so the fact that I’m alone with him in here means he doesn’t consider me any kind of threat. Still, I’m sure they’re around here somewhere, lurking in the shadows.

  “You’re a good little girl,” Pecher murmurs, raising his hand to give my cheek a pat. His hand is clammy, greasy. It smells like the remains of a big Italian meal. I do my best to avoid shrinking from his touch — to avoid provoking any reaction from him at all. He withdraws his hand — not without a last, lingering caress of my cheek with one finger — and uses it to reach into the bag. He pulls whatever is inside out halfway, then nods.

  “Good, good.”

  I don’t react. Whatever I just gave him, I don’t want to know. All I want is to get out of here as soon as possible. I continue to stand there, focusing on keeping my breathing as even as possible. I’m hoping Pecher won’t give me anything to take back to André. Last time, I had to carry back an envelope of money, and André gave me a bloody nose and a fat lip after accusing me of skimming a couple bills off the top.

  I’m starting to get antsy, stealing the occasional glance at the door, when Pecher noisily clears his throat. “Well, that takes care of the first part of our transaction.”

  “I’m sorry?” I ask distractedly.

  His mouth widens into a leer. “Your daddy sent you to me for a reason.”

  “He’s not my father.” The correction comes out in a rasp.

  Pecher chuckles. “Oh, I know, kitten. I know.”

  Something about the tone of his voice makes me shiver. “How do you know?” I shoot back, trying to sound brave.

  “A daddy wouldn’t send his daughter into this situation.”

  “He’s sent me here before,” I point out.

  Pecher chuckles again, louder this time, ending in a rasping cough.

  “Not what I meant. Your daddy —”

  “He’s not my father!” I repeat loudly.

  Pecher roars with laughter. “Your stepdaddy, then, let’s say. Your stepdaddy owes me more than this.” He holds it up, then saunters over to one side of the desk. Tossing the package onto it, he reaches under the ledge and does something I can’t see. “Call it some interest on a loan he took out.”

  “I don’t understand.” The words come out higher than I expect, betraying the fear that’s starting to pulse through me.

  Pecher’s eyes pierce into mine. One greasy corner of his mouth curls. “You will,” he tells me in a low, thick voice.

  My heart threatens to burst out of my chest. Pecher takes a step toward me, and I turn and bolt for the door. Grasping the handle with both hands, I twist and yank, but the slippery knob doesn’t budge. I grab on harder, try again, but it’s no good.

  The door is locked.

  A thump behind me tells me Pecher’s moving closer. Spinning around so my back is to the door, I eye him wildly.

  “Pecher,” I croak, sounding like I’m strangling. “Don’t do this…”

  “Don’t do what, kitten?” He’s sweating now, as he moves closer. His lips are parted, glistening a little, as though I’m a Thanksgiving dinner he can’t wait to devour. My skin tightens with gooseflesh. The idea that he might touch me again is intolerable.

  “No!” I cry out, flattening against the wall, but even as the word rips from my throat, I can tell it’s no use from the unconcerned expression on Pecher’s face. Either no one can hear me up here, or no one cares. This is his domain, after all. No one is going to come to my rescue.

  Pecher descends on me, towering over me with his large, panting frame. Inches away from covering my body with his. I’m frantic, outweighed and powerless, my mind thrashing against the inevitable.

  Then, in a flash of memory, comes a voice I haven’t heard in almost two years.

  The words of the last person alive on this earth to really care about me.

  Play to your softness, Brooke says. Men think you’re weak. Use it to your advantage to be strong, lethal, and unexpected.

  Pecher steps in close. I pretend to cower, bending down at the waist. And then, in a sharp, brusque move, I slam an elbow into his stomach.

  He doubles over with a roar of surprise. I have a second to clamber away from him. I stumble over his foot as I do, just enough that he is able to reach out and grab me blindly by the hair. I cry out as he yanks it and slams me back against the wall.

  “Don’t fuckin’ try that again,” he hisses as he grabs me by the throat.

  Pecher pushes his body against me, close enough now that I can smell his stinking breath. His hardness presses against my stomach.

  Instead of wrenching away, I let my legs go limp all at once. He’s not ready for it, and instinctively grabs for me as I fall to the ground. He’s not fast enough, and when I get to the floor I bend my head and drive the top of it hard into his crotch.

  Pecher bellows, and kicks up a knee into my face. There’s a crunch, and then a second of blinding pain.

  Keep striking. Don’t let up.

  Ignoring the pain, I jump into a crouch, one foot slightly forward.

  Go for vulnerable sites like face and eyes. Surprise him.

  Pecher is still doubled over, but trying hard to stand. I turn toward the locked door, and realize with a sickening churn of my stomach that I’ll never get out of here while he’s conscious. My breathing speeds up. Surprise him. It’s my only shot.

  I raise my hands to my face, covering my broken nose, and start to keen. He’s only a few feet away from me now. I tense my muscles, get ready for him. He staggers upright, face still contorted in pain, and lunges for me. As he does, I drop down, falling to one knee, and reach for the shoelaces of my left boot, and the card-shaped holder lashed into them that conceals a tiny Ka-Bar tactical knife. I pull it out and slash into the air in a single motion. Just as his face nears mine, the knife sinks into his neck.

  My vision and hearing tunnel as Pecher lets out a gurgle above me. Without letting myself stop to think, I grab the arm that’s holding the knife with my other hand and drag it across his neck with all my force. Blood begins to spurt, spattering my neck and shirt. I stifle a scream and keep going until the knife gets stuck in the cartilage of his throat.

  Pecher’s body falls on top of me. I let out a strangled moan, yanking away the knife, and push him off. Frantically, I crab-walk backwards in horror until my head thumps against the far wall.

  The sounds coming from Pecher’s throat are like nothing I’ve ever heard before. I half-expect him to get up and come after me again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lies there on his back, hands gripped around his neck as though he could stop the bleeding.

  At some point, I’ve started crying. Adrenaline spikes in my veins, and I haul myself up until I’m standing. The blood on me was warm but it’s already cooling, and I start to shiver almost uncontrollably. I rush to the door, letting out a loud sob when I pull in desperation and it’s still locked.

  I turn, wild-eyed, and force myself to think. Is there a key? There must be a key. If so, where?

  I
stare down in horror at Pecher, who is still moving but not much, shuddering at the thought of getting close enough to him to go through his pockets. But then a thought stops me.

  There’s no keyhole on this side. And why would someone from the outside have locked him in?

  And then, it clicks.

  Pecher, reaching under the ledge of the desk. I know what he was doing now.

  I half-stumble to it, reach underneath where I saw him do so earlier. In a second, I find it: a switch. When I press it, a soft, metallic click comes from the direction of the door.

  I go to it, turn the knob. It turns, and I almost collapse with relief.

  Hands shaking, I open the door. Without looking back, I run down the stairs and out of the restaurant.

  3

  Jude

  “What in the fuck are they doing here?” I growl at Jewel, jerking a thumb toward the couch.

  From the floor, where five-year-old TJ and three-year-old Faith are playing, I hear a gasp.

  “You said a swear, Uncle Jude,” Faith announces with a fascinated half-smile.

  Shit. I know Jewel tries to limit cussing around the kids. I cut a look at her and raise my eyebrows. Sorry.

  “Um, TJ and Faith, I need you to go play in your rooms for now,” she says smoothly. “But be quiet so you don’t wake up the babies. I’ll come get you in a little while.”

  The babies, Matthew and Matilda — or Matty and Tilly — are Jewel and Angel’s six-month-old twins. They must be asleep in their nursery. I think TJ and Faith are gonna argue with their mom, but my outburst must have scared them a little. They stare at me for a second, both of their faces wide-eyed, then scoop up the toys they’re playing with and run off toward their bedrooms without another word.

  I watch them go, feeling a little guilty, but once I turn back toward the couch my anger comes rushing back.

  “So,” I bark. “Let’s try this one more time. What. In the fuck. Are you doing here?”

  Ma blanches, her head snapping back like I just hit her. Fuckin’ drama queen. She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can get a word out, Tata interrupts her.

  “We are here for a visit, Jurij,” he says haughtily, his chin lifted. His familiar Serbian-accented voice is like a cheese grater to my ears. “To see our grandchildren. And our children,” he adds after a beat.

  I let out a snort. “Now I don’t know what the real reason is, but that right there? That is some bullshit.”

  “Jurij!” he snaps. “You will not speak to us that way!”

  “You don’t get a choice in that, old man.” I plant my feet, face him straight on. “I say what I want to, when I want to. I don’t know what your game is, but I do know you two didn’t just come here for a friendly family visit. After five years with no contact, you expect me to believe you suddenly give a shit about Jewel, or me, or her kids?”

  Five fuckin’ years. Five years since my parents kicked me out of the house and put me on a bus. Since then, I’ve heard from them exactly once. And that was only to confirm that I wasn’t welcome to come home anymore unless I changed my attitude.

  Well, I changed it, all right. My new attitude is, I don’t have any fucking parents.

  “Jurij…” Ma admonishes me. “Please…”

  “No,” I cut her off. “I’m not interested in a conversation with you. Or anything else. Visit whoever you want, if Jewel will have you. But count me the hell out.”

  Ma’s eyes widen at my words, and then they start to shimmer. I swear to fucking Christ, she looks like she might cry, which I have never seen that old battle axe do. She turns to Jewel, silently pleading with her.

  “Jude,” Jewel murmurs, “let’s go into the kitchen for a bit.”

  Huffing, I follow her out of the living room, glad to be away from the two wastes of air who call themselves our parents. Once we’re out of hearing range in the kitchen, I don’t lose any time getting to the point.

  “Jewel, what the fuck? This is absolute bullshit. Why didn’t you tell me they were here when you called?”

  “Would you have come if I had?” she shoots back.

  “Hell no!” I raise my hands wide. “You know damn well I wouldn’t have. That’s the point! I have nothing to say to those two. I don’t wanna be dragged into this, whatever it is.”

  “Okay, look.” Jewel raises a palm to her forehead and shuts her eyes. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on, either. They didn’t tell me they were coming. They just showed up. I haven’t heard anything from them in forever. The last time I even communicated with them was to send them a card about a month after Tilly and Matty were born, just to let them know. I did the same thing with the other kids. Not because I thought they cared, but just…” she trails off. “You know. It just seemed like the thing to do. I never heard anything from them in response. And then this morning…” Jewel trails off, glancing toward the living room.

  “Well, that sucks balls,” I spit out. Selfish assholes, true to form. Only ever thinking about themselves, and fuck everyone else. I’m now even more pissed than I was, knowing they did this to Jewel. “So, have they said how long they’re gonna stay?”

  “That’s just it.” Jewel blows out her cheeks. “They say they’re here indefinitely. They want to stay, Jude!”

  “Are they out of their goddamn minds?” I explode. “Why the hell would they wanna do that? What’s their game, here?”

  “I don’t know!” She runs a distracted hand through her hair. “Not only that, they said they gave up their place back in Indiana. They say they’re not going back.”

  “What? What the fuck is wrong with them, dumping themselves off on you like this!”

  “I know,” Jewel moans. “It’s a nightmare.”

  “So, tell them to fuck off!”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why the hell not?” I challenge.

  “I don’t know.” She pulls a miserable face. “They say they want to know their grandchildren. How can I say no to that?”

  “Like this: No.”

  Jewel lets out a soft sigh. “It’s not so easy, Jude.”

  “Of course it is. It’s one damn syllable. Hell, it’s probably the easiest complete sentence in the English language.”

  “Look,” she says tiredly. “I’m not going to argue with you. That’s not why I called you here.”

  “Well, why did you, then?” I ask. “You had to know damn well I wouldn’t want to talk to them.”

  “I didn’t know. But yes, I guessed you wouldn’t be too excited to see them.”

  “Then why…”

  “Because.” She stops me, puts a gentle hand on my chest. “They want to stay here.”

  “Here?” I scoff. “At your house? Can’t they see there’s no damn room?”

  She shrugs.

  “Don’t let them,” I order her. “Tell them to get a hotel if they’re so determined to visit their grandkids.”

  “I tried to suggest that. But Tata says they don’t have the money.”

  “Jesus Christ…” I mutter, teeth clenched.

  “Jude, I don’t have room for them. You know that. Especially now with the twins. And God, I can’t have Mama underfoot here twenty-four-seven.”

  “Damn right you can’t.” Our mother would drive any sane person mad in a manner of days.

  “So the thing is, I was thinking…” She trails off, then looks at me, eyes hopeful. “Well, I was wondering… if they could stay at your place.”

  “My place? Oh, hell no.”

  “Not with you there,” Jewel adds hastily. “I was thinking maybe you could stay at the clubhouse for a while. It wouldn’t be forever. Just until we can figure out what’s going on, and the real reason they’re here.” She pauses, then continues in a soft voice. “Please, Jude. I need your help on this.”

  Fuck.

  The last thing I want or need right now is to have my estranged fucking parents staying at my place. If they were the ones asking me this, I’d turn them down without a se
cond thought. But as I stare into my sister’s desperate face, I know I have to help her. She wouldn’t ask me this if she didn’t really need it. I can’t deny Jewel this favor. My sister’s the only blood family who’s never turned me away. And she’s right, I can stay at my apartment at the clubhouse for as long as I need to.

  “Fuck. Okay, I’ll let them stay,” I sigh. “But I’m not gonna see them or hang out with them.”

  Jewel exhales. “Thank you, Jude.”

  “Don’t mention it,” I grumble. “They have a car?”

  “Yeah. It’s parked out on the street. You probably didn’t notice it.”

  “Okay. Here.” I pull my keys out of my pocket, take one off the ring and hand it to her. “There’s my house key. Go ahead and give it to them.”

  “Don’t you need it?”

  I shake my head. “I have a spare copy hidden outside my place. I’ll go home now and grab some clothes and shit. Give me an hour at least before sending them over there.” I pull Jewel close and give her a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll see you later.”

  “You’re leaving?” she says, grabbing my arm.

  “I told you, Jewel. I’m not interested in talking to them. They can use my place as a hotel, as a favor to you. That’s as far as my obligation as their son goes, as far as I’m concerned.” I head for the back door off the kitchen and pull it open. “Tell the kids goodbye for me. I’ll see you later, Jewel.” I gesture toward the living room. “And good luck with that.”

  4

  Lila

  Outside in the parking lot, I’m trembling so hard I drop my key fob on the ground twice before I can hold on to it well enough to unlock André’s car. Once I’m finally in the driver’s seat, I jam the key into the ignition, holding it half a second too long so the engine grinds in protest. I reverse so hard the tires squeal, then throw it into drive and race out of the parking lot.

  My thoughts are spinning like a hamster on a wheel as I frantically try to take stock of my situation. Somehow I managed not to run into anyone as I fled the restaurant. Thank God, because I’m covered in blood and I’m pretty sure my nose is broken. There’s no way anyone who looked at me for even an instant right now wouldn’t immediately know something was wrong.