There have been a few men who visit me, but out of them all Rascal is the one with this . . . sickening infatuation. He stares at me like he’s a twisted psychopath and believe me, I know the type. Damn, two raised me. After sixteen years of being with my parents before I realized they weren’t quite normal, I see the signs. I loathed them so much that I tipped off the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
They were truly a godsend. I went into witness protection because of the associates my parents had, changed my name and was fostered until I turned eighteen and was out of the system. At the time, the FBI had a cash reward for any information resulting in the arrest of Melissa or Fynn Müller. The two people who gave me life took away far too much of it. They’re even more famous than Bonnie and Clyde. The only difference is Bonnie and Clyde didn’t murder people for sport. They wanted something out of it. Hell, they got money. My parents on the other hand . . . they’re just sadistic individuals.
I saw too much as a kid in my childhood home. We lived back in the sticks in a small log cabin. There were two bedrooms, a basement, a tiny kitchen with a living room off to the side and then there was the door. It wasn’t much, but we didn’t need much. I was thankful because my bedroom was across the house, next to the only bathroom we had. The only downside I found was hearing the screams of whomever my father brought home from the bar.
They had a system going. He’d take his wedding ring off and go to this shitty little bar a few towns over. It was right on the edge of the highway so there was easy access. Now, my dad would target people who were passing through town, or those who didn’t have any family. Of course, he’d be able to get that much out of them as he filled them with liquor and chatted them up in the bar.
I’d hide in my room, locking the door and put my wooden chair against the handle so it couldn’t move. The amount of fear that struck through me as a child was horrendous. Every time he brought someone home, I’d cry. I cried because I knew what was going to happen. I’d physically start to shake knowing within a couple of hours I’d hear their screams from below my bedroom. Every prayer and pleading moment would be forever burned in my mind.
When I was sixteen, I said enough was enough. I got on the bus to go to school, looked up the local FBI field office and called them. I told them everything, even how my mother held a knife to my throat and threatened my life. I remember exactly what she said, how every family had secrets and if I didn’t keep them, they could have another child who would.
My childhood gave me the courage to do what I’d been doing until a few months ago. I’d been a criminal profiler for over ten years and told the bureau I needed a sabbatical. The honest to God truth is the amount of horror I’d see in my work every day was impacting my life in a negative way. Seeing that much evil starts to screw with your head after a point.
I hear the creaking of steps from above, signaling me that Rascal must be talking with his boss, Grizzly. He calls him Prez and what I can tell is Grizzly is the main man in charge whereas Rascal is his second in command.
Most of the time they’re upstairs bitching about how they’re losing men. Just the other day Grizzly screamed at Rascal for losing Diablo. For a second I thought they were talking about the video game until Rascal shot back it was Grizzly’s fault for scaring him off.
“Has she told you anything useful?” It takes me a moment to figure out who’s talking but I realize it’s Grizzly based on the roughness in his voice. The man constantly sounds like he’s swallowed a bucket of razorblades.
“She doesn’t fuckin’ speak, ever. I’d think she’s a damn mute if she didn’t scream when we jumped her on the street.Ah, yes. They came into my apartment when I was sleeping. I thought it was a typical home invasion where the thugs would just want some money. Pfft. Again, I’m never the woman with any sort of luck.
“What’s the use in havin’ her locked up in the damn basement if she isn’t giving us information on her old man? I won’t keep having this conversation with you. We need Fynn and she’s the only way we’ll get to him.”
I suck in a deep breath as my heartbeat quickens. Grizzly just said my dad’s name. Throughout my time here I’ve contemplated if they knew who my parents were . . . but not one person ever said a thing to me. I thought I was safe in a sense. Now it turns out I’m in more danger than I ever thought possible. “She’ll lead us to that slimy motherfucker father of hers,” Rascal states.
I don’t know how the hell they expect me to lead them to a man I haven’t seen in twenty years. This must mean they don’t have their information straight. “You’d better pray she does. I don’t keep dead weight around. You should fuckin’ know that!” Grizzly raises his voice, hissing out to Rascal before I hear the stomping of his feet on the floor and the slamming of the door upstairs.
Well, it always gets worse before it gets better.
Chapter Four
I’m not rude. I just have the balls to say what everyone else is thinking
~ Unknown
Bull
“You ready to party later?” Roxy asks as she descends the stairs of the Monroe house. For an older lady, she’s pretty bangin. She’s got this chestnut brown hair that falls to the middle of her back, a few additional pounds on her hips and this overall cockiness when she walks. Fuck, she’s one of those ol’ ladies you hear about when the old guys talk about their women. She’s a fuckin’ wet dream walkin’. Add in the fact three men claimed her and she’s basically any man’s wet dream. I’m not judgin’ though. People need to do what makes them happy.
Roxy is Fist’s younger sister and comes over every couple of days to check up on the man. “I think I was born ready to party. Hell, it’s been a while since we have for this crew. We all need it.”
“That’s for damn sure. I hired a babysitter to watch the girls so the guys and I can come out.”
Furrowing my brows, “Ashley isn’t going to watch them?”
Roxy giggles, “No, I didn’t ask her. She has enough to worry about with Noelle. She doesn’t need the extra work of watching her cousins too.”
“Eh, I would just send the girls over to Ashley’s. They love Noelle more than anything else. You could save your money that way too.” I suggest.
Roxy shrugs her shoulders, “I’ll think about it. I’m not trying to add more to Ashley’s plate right now. She’s pretty stressed with everything going on.”
Nodding, I understand. “How’s her dad doing?”
Roxy shifts her expression from an unreadable one, to something which tells me we should be worried. “I thought after he showered the other week, he’d slowly get his shit together. It’s even slower than I thought it would be. He’s taking one step forward and two steps back every single day. I just . . . don’t know what to do for him.”
“Isn’t that how depression works?” In no way am I trying to be a smartass. I genuinely don’t know.
“I’m not sure. George had his own issues with depression, but he didn’t speak to me about it. Said it was nothing for his baby sister to worry about,” Roxy looks down to the ground and I see tears welling in her eyes. “If he were here, I know he’d have the right thing to say. Somehow, he’d make Lloyd feel better.”
George was Cracker’s legal name and Roxy isn’t wrong. Cracker always had the right thing to say no matter the circumstance. I take a good hard look at Roxy and see she looks a little thinner in the face. She’s never been a bigger girl to begin with. Hell, she’d probably be swimming in a lady’s medium shirt. It’s enough to make me ask, though. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m doing alright. There’s no easy way to get over your brother being murdered. Add in the fact Lloyd is a shell of the man he used to be and I . . . feel like I’m barely keeping my family together.” Shit, it must feel like the weight of the world is on her shoulders.
“All you need to do is keep being here for him. You can’t fix everything, Roxy. But you do help the situation by showing him you’re still here. Don’t ever let that fuck with you. Okay?”
/> Roxy laughs, wiping away the tears which have slipped from the corner of her eyes. “Has anyone ever said you’d make an excellent therapist?”
Now I’m the one laughing. “Hell no. I’d be one of those who get sued all the time for sayin’ shit they shouldn’t. We all know I’m a blunt fucker.”
“True,” Roxy sucks in her bottom lip for a moment, giving me a feeling she’s contemplating something. “Bull, I got some intel about the Bears. I’m not sure if it’s accurate or not considering the source is questionable, but someone needs to tell Zane.”
“Alright. Spit it out,” I say.
“I went into town to grab some groceries. Guess who I saw but Blossom talkin’ to some shady looking fuck. She told him how rumor has it the Bears are holding up in Big Horn, Wyoming at some abandoned bar on the edge of the National Forest.”
Cocking a brow I ask, “And you haven’t told anyone this?”
“No. I wanted us to all have a good night. Promise me you won’t tell him until tomorrow. We all know the Bears are as dumb as a doornail and won’t move. They don’t have a clue we know a damn thing, either.”
“Yeah, you’re right. We need this night but protecting the club and the people in it are of the utmost importance.”
“I don’t disagree with you. I’m only saying we’ve had awful things happen too much lately. So, I’m asking you, begging you to please wait until tomorrow to tell Zane. Go off on this run after the club has a night of fun, has re-energized and boosted their morale.”
“I don’t want to keep this from anyone, Roxy.” I say, not holding back how I feel. I agree we need a night like this but keeping shit from Zane will only put me on his shit list.
“You’re not keeping anything from anyone. You’re simply telling them later than you originally would. Bull, just do this. I’ve been in the club for many moons. Trust that I know what I’m doing.”
I have two options here. I either tell Zane and have Roxy hate me for not taking her seriously and trusting her. Or I have Zane bitching up a storm because I listened to his aunt versus doing what I know is the right thing. Fuck me sideways. I hate being put in positions like this.
Screw it all. I’m always the bad guy in someone’s story. I’ll just act like Roxy never said a damn thing to me. That is, until the morning. Then I’ll go straight to my Prez and let him know what’s up.
It may not be hunting season in Montana, but it’s always open season for the Reapers MC.
Chapter Five
“I am the me I choose to be.”
~ Sidney Poitier
Bull
I bet it’s been years since Fist’s house has been jam packed with people like this. Every party we ever had was in the clubhouse, but since that’s gone now we’re here. Zane is over in the corner chatting with Zorro. Shiloh’s laughter causes me to turn and glance over to the kitchen and I see her laughing ridiculously at something Hammer must’ve just said. Shoot. I’m not a fool, but there’s some sort of gut feeling I have tellin’ me those two are gonna get together. Now I’m not cupid or anything close but I have a good sense of intuition.
Looking around the room I see all the men who shared a bed with her are here. Zorro stays where he is, meanwhile Grim takes a few steps toward Hammer but Tex places a hand on his chest. Axel seems the most relaxed out of the bunch, shaking his head where he’s seated on the couch, so I make my way over to Tex and Grim.
“You need to hold it together, man.” Tex informs him, obviously trying to diffuse the situation.
“I wanna rip his fuckin’ throat out for even makin’ her smile like that. She just threw us to the side and now she’s over there chatting it up with Hammer, bein’ all flirty and shit? How isn’t that supposed to rub me the wrong way?”
“Listen, we’ve all been where you are brother. There’s a right way to act and an awful one. If we let you walk over there the only thing that’ll happen is this party will be over and everything will be made into some damn bullshit. None of us need any of that. You hear me?” Placing my hand on his shoulder I apply pressure, giving him an urging squeeze. He might be one of my brothers, but I have no problem laying him out across the floor if it means he’ll fuck with the night.
“How dare she,” Grim hisses out. His face is flushed red and I glance down and see an almost empty beer bottle in his hand. I’ve known Grim for a few years now and he’d never say anything like this if he were sober.
Pushing on him lightly, I make his back go into the wall. While the movement was light I made sure to apply plenty of force. If I were too rough everyone around us would catch wind of the intense situation unfolding. “Brother, Shiloh can do whatever she damn well pleases. None of you fuckers ever claimed that woman. Instead you fuckin’ used her like she’s a slut.” We all know Shiloh is a clubwhore . . . but it doesn’t mean you have to treat them a certain way. Everyone deserves respect if you ask me. If they wanted this situation to be different any one of them could’ve claimed her. Hell, the lot of them could’ve. I’ll be damned if these men try to play the victim here.
“She was ours,” he argues.
Shaking my head, I disagree even further with him. “No, she wasn’t. Shiloh belongs to the club. She doesn’t belong to any man. As much as you’d like to think that way, it simply isn’t true. Now I’m only gonna say this once. You need to get your shit together.”
Grim growls like a rabid animal as he pushes his way past me. Tex and I give one another a concerned look but both sigh in relief as Grim goes out the front door. “Thank goodness. I thought the evening was going to turn sour pretty quick.” He admits.
“You weren’t the only one. Looks like Grim had a few drinks. We all know how he gets when the alcohol is flowing.”
Tex chuckles once, nodding. Grim is the type of drunk who thinks he’s invincible, like he’s grown wings and can fly. “Shiloh made her choice, one which she was allowed to make. These boys make me feel like we’re in high school with the angst.” Tex admits.
“Yeah, I’m hoping it’ll settle down soon but who knows if that will happen.”
“Bull, you’re still young. Take it from this old man. Time heals all wounds. I bet a year from now all of these men will be chasing a different piece of pussy.”
BLOODMONEY by Poppy pulsates from the surround sound stereo system Fist had added here a few years back. Poppy is some sort of metal punk singer. The type of entertainer that distracts you from your problems and causes everyone to rage the way you would at an old rock concert.
Roxy makes an appearance at the top of the stairs, smiling widely as she comes down. Why she’s smiling plagues my mind until I see Fist come walkin’ up behind her. He’s wearing dark denim jeans, a white long-sleeved shirt and his cut. Holy hell. Am I seeing things?
The room grows quiet as everyone’s eyes fall onto the man we constantly look to lead us. The way he draws his brows together is a sure signal he’s uncomfortable, but the man showed up and this is what matters. Hell, we were placing bets on whether he’d stay locked away in his room or come out for an appearance tonight.
Fist reaches the bottom of the stairwell and approaches me, signals for Zane and Blackjack to come over, waiting for them to meet us before speaking. “We need to speak somewhere private. There’s something we need to include Bull in on.”
Blackjack and Zane share a look which tells me I’m missing something. Zane leads the way outside into the chilling Montana air with a beer in his hand. Fist follows me and Blackjack comes out a couple minutes later with three beers in his hand. He passes me one, one to his father-in-law and keeps another for himself.
“You sure you wanna chat about this here, dad?” Zane asks his father.
Fist nods, “Yep. They won’t hear us inside anyway. The music’s too damn loud. How the group of you haven’t gone deaf yet is beyond me.” I chuckle at Fist’s small jab. It’s been too long since we’ve been dished on if you ask me.
I bring the beer up to my lips and take a sip as Fist looks ov
er to Zane and speaks to him. “You should be the one telling him son, not me. You’re the interim Prez. This is your duty, not mine.”
The light on the Monroe’s wrap around porch gives me enough light to see Zane roll his eyes at his father. “That’s a crock of bullshit, but whatever. I’ll give you the simple version. A couple weeks back dad, Ashley, Blackjack, and Hawk had a secret meeting with an ATF agent.”
“Whoa. What?” Some MCs work with the feds, but we’re not one of them.
“She showed up at Ashley’s door, demanded to speak to her, dad and Blackjack. They want our help locating a woman who is of some importance. Supposedly, the Bears have her and that is why Agent Williams came to us. She can nail Grizzly for the arson that killed Saffron and the burning of the club.”
“What about the bomb that killed Cracker?” The second my question is out I see Fist cringe. He must still be going through hell in regard to his brother’s death.
“She didn’t say anything about that. Anyway, the man we knew as Harry wasn’t actually Harry,” Zane starts off.
Now I’m the one drawing my brows together, “Huh, what do you mean? Harry was working for the Bears. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Well shit, if you’d let me finish talkin’ and stop interrupting me you might understand. Dad told me a couple days ago about all this. I was just as confused as you are. Turns out Harry had his name legally changed when he was seventeen. It’s why this was a bomb of truth dropped on us. His father is Fynn Müller.”
No. It can’t be. Fynn is one of the most notorious serial killers around. Hell, he escaped federal prison a couple months back if I’m not mistaken. They’ve had documentaries on many different channels about him and his wife, who is still in prison. These two fuckers were a married couple who’d kill people in their cabin. Rumor has it their daughter turned them in but only the mother was arrested. None of that was ever confirmed. Fynn had a way of evading the police until about five years ago. Then he found a way to break his ass out. I only saw that online one day, though.
Chaos: A Reapers MC Boxset Page 32
