Destroying Beauty (Hell Hounds Motorcycle Club): Vegas Titans Series

by Loren, Celia

  "Don't ever come near her again. Today was her last day here, but you're gonna send her a check for her final two weeks. Got it?"

  "But—" he protests.

  "I don't think you're getting it," I mutter, shaking my head. I glance around to make sure no one's around, then bring the heel of my hand quickly up to his face, breaking his nose. "You'll send her the check in the mail tomorrow, right?"

  He nods, and I release his hand. He sinks to his knees and brings his hands to his face, which are quickly covered in blood.

  "My nose, you broke my fucking nose," he wails.

  I ignore him and turn to Fish. Time to handle this much more complicated problem.

  "Fish," I say with a nod. He nods and grins back at me. "Can't help but think it wasn't a coincidence that you're here." I keep my posture casual as we begin walking back to the parking lot. I can see Jo watching us, and I don't want to let her know that there's anything wrong.

  "Can't hurt for her to trust more than one Hell Hound, can it?"

  "Bark gave me this assignment, and if you hadn't heard, she doesn't know anything." I fight to keep my expression relaxed.

  "She has quite a body on her, doesn't she?" Fish murmurs, admiring Jo as we walk toward her. "The kind that could make a man get his priorities wrong. I don't fucking trust you, brother."

  I stop and turn to him before we get close enough for her to hear us. I need to limit her exposure to him. One of his little throat tics could be all that's needed to give him away.

  "Well, thanks for your help, brother," I say, squaring my shoulders. "See you back at the clubhouse."

  "Come on, that's it? I haven't even officially met her." He claps me on the shoulder and keeps walking toward her. I want to tackle him to the ground but that might look just a bit suspicious.

  Jo glances between us as we walk up to her. "So you guys know each other? That's a weird coincidence."

  "Isn't it?" Fish says jovially. "Name's Fish." He extends his hand and I try to look relaxed.

  "Jo," she says, returning his handshake.

  "I can't believe you never told her about me, Holt!" Fish says, affecting a light tone.

  "Guess it never came up," I reply, clapping him a little too hard on the back as I pray his throat tic stays gone. Usually, as long as he's calm, it doesn't appear.

  "So you're the new girlfriend. We were all wondering why we hadn't seen Holt much around the clubhouse. You coming to the party this weekend?"

  "Sorry, what? Clubhouse?" Jo asks, frowning.

  "Yeah, the Hell Hounds are having a big party this weekend." He pretends to be surprised by her blank expression. "Oh, sorry, thought you knew. Guess I really stepped in it, here. Um, well…I better take off. You sure you're OK?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine," Jo murmurs.

  "Good. Well, Holt, see you at church," he says with a wave, and walks over to his bike at the other end of the parking lot. I relax a little as he leaves even though I know I'm about to catch some major shit from Jo. We stand in silence until the sound of his engine disappears.

  "The Hell Hounds," Jo says flatly.

  "It's the name of my motorcycle club, my MC," I explain.

  "And you have a clubhouse?"

  "Yeah, in Hunterdon."

  "But you also go to church together? It's a religious thing?"

  I have to stifle a little smile. "No, church is just what we call our mandatory meetings. Not religious. It's more about business."

  "So it's a big thing for you, then? Why didn't you tell me about it?" Her voice is calm, but her expression is waffling between anger and hurt.

  "Some of the things we do…it's not legal."

  "Huh."

  "We have our own code we operate by…the guys in the club, they're my brothers. Family." I sigh, and turn around. "Pull up the back of my shirt."

  "What?"

  "You'll see." I feel her take the bottom hem of my t-shirt and begin to pull it up tentatively. There's a pause, and then she pulls it up farther, to my shoulder blades, and runs her other hand over my skin.

  "Thought you had a weird birthmark, or something," she whispers, almost to herself. I turn back around as she drops my shirt.

  "I was about to tell you," I say, studying her face. She's staring at the ground, closed off, not making eye contact. "It's not the kind of thing I can say right away."

  "I guess I knew there was something…" she murmurs. I reach for her shoulder and she pulls back. My heart sinks in my chest.

  "Jo, the way I feel about you—"

  "But you keep hiding things from me, don't you?" she says fiercely, her eyes snapping up to mine. "Every time I think we're clear, it turns out there's something else. You know everything about me, things I've never told anyone else." Her voice breaks and a tear slides down her cheek.

  "Me, too. You are…we have a connection. I know you feel it."

  She pauses for what seems like an eternity. "I need some time. I'll call you," she says, her eyes dropping again. She unlocks her car and gets behind the wheel.

  "Jo…" I murmur.

  She shakes her head and starts the car, pulling away without looking back at me. I stand with my arms hanging limply at my sides. I've never felt so powerless.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jo

  I smile at Elise as her eyes flicker over to me. I think she undersold Grant a little. Sure, he might be a little buttoned-up for me, but he seems like a solid guy, and very into her.

  "So Elise tells me you're starting a new job?" he asks, winding his fork into his plate of spaghetti. We're eating together at a little Italian bistro so that we could meet, and of course because Elise wanted to get my opinion of her new man.

  "Um, yeah," I say, unsure of how to describe my current predicament. Just found out my boyfriend is in some kind of motorcycle club, and the new job is with him. "I quit my job at Billy's this weekend." And was quite surprised to find two weeks' worth of pay, including approximately what I would have made in tips, in my mailbox this morning.

  "Good," Elise says, taking a sip of her red wine. "That was the kind of place that will suck your soul right out—Plus her manager was a pervert," she adds to Grant.

  "That's certainly true," I reply. I was surprised when Carl followed me out after my shift. I always thought of him as more of a harmless creep, but then he tried to grope me. Thank god that Fish guy was there, though his timing did seem…odd. As did Holt's reaction to him.

  "So, Grant, what do you do?"

  "I'm an accountant for the police department," he replies, and Elise smiles proudly.

  "That sounds interesting…" I lie, sensing an opportunity.

  "Definitely. I mean, probably not to most people, but I like working for a government agency. I feel like I'm, you know, contributing something, at least."

  I play with the fettuccine on my plate as I try to choose my words. "What kind of cases do the police usually get around here? I was reading this article recently about, um, motorcycle clubs, I think they were called. Are those a problem?" Maybe he can give me some insight while I try to wrap my brain around what I'm dealing with.

  "I've heard some about those, but obviously I'm not on the front lines or anything. There was some upswing in violence some months ago, but I think that died down."

  "Have you heard of this one called the Hell Hounds?" I ask innocently, remembering the massive tattoo on Holt's back.

  "Oh, yeah. That's based nearby. Traffic marijuana, ecstasy, mostly. I find the whole thing fascinating actually. I've heard that we, and I mean that loosely, could do more to take them down, but it really comes down to the benefit of knowing your enemy. See, people will always find a way to get their drugs, and if they get taken down, something worse could take their place. Sort of a cost-benefit analysis. Unless, of course, a club, or a gang or whatever, starts involving innocent people and escalating the violence. As long as they keep it contained, though, they're not likely to attract a lot of attention."

  "Right," I murmur.

/>   "Doesn't Holt ride a motorcycle?" Elise asks me.

  "Yup, a Harley," I reply, and quickly change the subject.

  After dinner, we say our goodbyes on the sidewalk outside. "Grant, I'm just gonna walk Jo to her car, OK?" Elise says.

  "OK, nice to meet you, Jo."

  "You too, Grant," I say with a smile and a wave as Elise takes my arm.

  "You alright?" she murmurs as we walk down the sidewalk, crossing in and out of circles of light from the streetlights overhead.

  "Yeah, Holt and I just had a little argument, that's all," I say, not wanting to tell her the whole spiel until I can wrap my head around it myself.

  "So what do you think of Grant?"

  "He seems really nice. What do you think of him?"

  "He's great. I just…with Holt, how much do you guys talk?"

  "Oh god, I don't know. I kind of lose track of time."

  "With Grant, I have a good time when we're together, and I know this is going to sound horrible, but I don't really miss him, you know, when I don't see him."

  "Uh-huh," I murmur, thinking of how I'm aching to see Holt after less than forty-eight hours apart.

  "OK, I know, it's not optimal, or anything, but maybe that stuff will happen eventually."

  "Maybe," I say turning to give her a hug as we reach my car. "You deserve all that stuff, so I hope it does."

  "Thanks." She begins to walk back toward Grant. "I'll call you tomorrow!"

  "OK!" I call back, and hop in my car.

  That night, I'm unable to sleep. I can't get Holt out of my head. The way I feel with him…it's what I've always wanted with other men and never experienced before. Not even when Steve and I first met. But this whole motorcycle club thing…Well, it's not just the fact that he's in one, it's that again, he didn't tell me upfront about it. Though I do understand that's not the kind of information you'd drop on a first date. I guess I just don't understand what it entails.

  It occurs to me that there's one person who could help me sort through my feelings about this. The realization helps calm my nerves a bit, and before long, I drift off to sleep.

  I drum my fingers on the armrest as I wait for the phone call. Finally, my cell lights up with an incoming call from a number I don't know. I pick up nervously.

  "An inmate from the Federal Correctional Institute Marianna is trying to reach you," the recording says. "Would you like to accept…"

  I quickly press "3" to accept the call. I remember how it works. I put the phone back to my ear. There's static and a brief pause.

  "Jo?"

  "Hey, Mom," I say. It's been a long time since I've heard her voice.

  "I got your message. Everything OK?"

  "Not really," I admit. Tears begin to pool in my eyes. What is it about talking to your mom, even when she's calling you from prison? "I met a guy."

  I hear her laugh softly. "Fuck if it doesn’t always come down to a man."

  "He's in a motorcycle club," I begin.

  "Oh, an MC," she says. "Interesting. I guess I can see it…"

  "You can?"

  "Sure. You were always a wild child."

  "You mean when I was eight?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. That was the last time she actually raised me.

  "Yes," she says a little defensively. "Trust me, you can tell everything you need to know about a person by the time they're that age. And you, you were a wild child. That Steve guy was never right for you."

  "You never met him," I point out.

  "My mom told me," she says.

  "Really? Grammy never said that to me," I reply with a frown.

  "Well, probably because you were marrying him. So who's this new guy?"

  "His name's Holt."

  "Holt. That's fucking sexy."

  "Jesus, Mom…"

  "Well, it is. So what's the problem?"

  "This whole MC thing…I don't know anything about it. They're illegal, right?"

  "Well, some of the stuff they do sure is. It attracts people who don't fit in, who want to go by a more basic set of rules. Blood for blood, is their expression. Men who want to live by their strength and wits. Women who like hard men."

  "Mmm."

  "So this Holt guy, you really like him?"

  "Yeah."

  "Love him?"

  "It's only been a few weeks," I reply evasively.

  "So you love him," she surmises. She always was direct. "And the problem is?"

  "I mean, I don't want…I just don't want…" I trail off.

  "To turn out like your mother?" she interjects, finishing my train of thought.

  "Do you want me to turn out like you?" I counter. "In and out of jail?"

  "No mother wants that for her daughter," she says softly, and I fear I've hurt her. "Look, you become an old lady in this club—old lady, that's sort of like a wife—it's not like you're becoming a drug runner. You're still your own woman. Different clubs want different things…you have to find out from Holt what it would involve for you."

  "If I became one of the…an old lady, you mean?"

  "Yeah. Find what's right for you. It's not like you have to choose between a white picket fence and being my bunk mate in here. There are things in between, is what I'm saying."

  "How is it in there?"

  "Oh, you know, I'm crocheting my ass off, trying to stay sane," she says with a dry laugh. There's a pause. I wish I could tell her about the shooting and completely unburden myself to her, but I know these calls are recorded. "Hey, I gotta go, there's a line forming for the phone."

  "Oh, OK."

  "Um, it was good to hear your voice. Maybe call me sometime when you're not in crisis?"

  I smile. "I will, Mom. Thank you, really."

  "…Bye, baby," she says, and hangs up the phone. I stare at my cell phone for a while even after it goes dark. I've resented my mom a long time for her choices when I was a kid, spent a long time trying to prove to myself that I was different than her. Maybe we're a little more similar than I'd like.

  But I can't decide who I am as a counterpoint to someone else. I need to figure it out for myself.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Holt

  I pick up the Hell Hounds cut and turn it around, examining the stitching. It's certainly the smallest one I've ever seen. Had to order it special for Jo. The only thing left is to have the embroidery done, truly making it her own.

  I tried to talk Jo out of going to the party many times, but she's insisted. After not telling her about it, I'm not really in a position to keep her away. But now it feels like our relationship rests on tonight's outcome, and I don't like that kind of pressure. Particularly with Fish in the mix, doing everything he can to sabotage me, and us.

  I tuck the cut back into the top drawer of my dresser. I'll wait until after tonight to ask her. If she's not into the MC scene, there's no point in asking her at all. I just wish I could ease her into it more. I know that's why Fish mentioned the party in front of her; he was trying to shock her. He doesn't believe she will keep quiet, and wants to force the issue. It was smart of him, the way that he helped her out with Carl and gained her trust. I'll have to stay on top of Jo at every moment tonight to make sure he's not alone with her.

  I rub my forehead as a ball of anxiety grows in my stomach. The idea of keeping the true reason behind my original pursuit of her a secret from her forever is becoming more untenable by the second. Keeping her and Fish away from each other tonight is one thing, but if she becomes my old lady, I'd have to do the same at every gathering ever. But that's just a logistical problem. Keeping this secret from Jo feels like an anchor that's pulling me underwater. I know she has trust issues, and trust issues with me in particular, considering that she's caught me not telling her everything before.

  If I don't tell her the truth about the shooting, there will always be something between us. If I do tell her, she might not ever want to see me again. And she might be mad enough to go to the cops.

  I grab my keys and head out to my bike. Some
people might find the growl of the engine startling, but I find it calming. I ride over to Jo's feeling the wind flow under my half-shell and the seat vibrating underneath me. I shoot her a text as I pull up out front, and a couple minutes later she appears out of the main door of her building. I can't help but let out a low whistle when she steps into the light of the streetlamps. She grins and tucks her blonde hair behind her ear as she straps on the half-shell I bought for her.

  "Thought I'd get into the whole biker thing…" she murmurs as she reaches me.

  "It works on you," I reply. That's an understatement. She's wearing some kind of skintight leather pants, heels, and a low cut black shirt. I'm proud to bring a woman like her to a Hell Hounds party, but… "I gotta try one more time. You sure I can't talk you out of going tonight?"

  "I wanna meet everyone. You said it's a big part of your life." I can tell by her defiant body language that she's not backing down.

  "I had to try. But remember, you stick with me the whole time. These things get crazy."

  "Got it," she says, and swings her leg over the back of the bike. I pull out into the street and around the corner, past the gas station, feeling how she's getting better at leaning into the turns with me. She'll make a formidable old lady. I don't want to think about the alternative.

  As I spot the exit into Hunterdon, a part of me wants to keep driving. Just head on down the highway, make a whole new life for Jo and me. But I pull onto the ramp and slow down as I head into town. The music is already pumping as we pull into the parking lot. I park next to a row of my brother's Harleys. They're all under orders from Bark to act normal around Jo, like they've never seen or heard of her before. Of course, there's only one brother I'm worried about.

  I turn as I step off my bike at the sound of someone pulling in after us. I smile as I see Wilkes and his old lady Cara stop next to us. I'm probably closer with Wilkes than anyone else in the club, and I think Cara and Jo will get along well. They're probably my best chance of this night going well.

  "'Sup, brother," Wilkes greets me, as he helps Cara off the back of his bike.