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

by Loren, Celia

  "Well, maybe I should wait—"

  "We can just go around front," he assures me, guiding me toward the side of the building along the tall metal fence surrounding the property. I glance back at the group by the fire and can't pick out Holt. The light disappears around the corner of the building and Fish's grip on my arm tightens.

  "Jeez, Fish," I say, pulling my arm away. I keep my voice light, but something about him is creeping me out right now.

  "Sorry," he says with a high, nasal laugh. We turn the corner of the front of the building and as the floodlights illuminate us I calm down a little. "Just didn't want you caught by a flying bottle or something."

  "That's OK," I murmur, rubbing my arm. "Um, thanks." We stop by the rack of bikes and I look around awkwardly. Why didn't he just take me back inside the party? It would have been faster.

  "Figured it must still be tough for you to be around stuff like that, with everything you're going through."

  I feel my stomach sink a little, but there's no way he can be talking about what I think he's talking about. "Sorry?"

  "Holt told me…about the shooting. Must've been awful."

  I feel a chill go through me that has nothing to do with the night air. "Yeah, um, I don't really want to talk about that."

  "You shouldn't blame him for telling me. We're brothers. A Hell Hound's first duty is to his club. Always."

  "Right. Well, I should be getting inside," I say, struggling to keep the tremor out of my voice. I can't fucking believe Holt told Fish—and who knows who else?

  "Did you catch a glimpse of the guy?"

  "No. Holt didn't tell you that part?" I snap and take a step back toward the front door.

  "Whoa, whoa, hang on," he says, and I feel him grab my wrist and am forced to turn back around. "You sure about that? Maybe you're not telling Holt the whole story."

  "Why would I lie to him about that?" I counter, drawing back at the anger in his eyes. What the fuck is this guy's deal? "I'm going inside," I add as firmly as I can, but his fingers just tighten painfully around me.

  "Calm down. I just want to talk to you for a minute," he says, and emits a strange sound from his throat. A bolt of fear runs through me, though it takes a second for my brain to catch up with what my senses know to be true. "What? What is it?" His large eyes narrow into slits and he examines my expression. I watch his throat move slightly as two more clicking noise emanate from it.

  Now I know where I recognize that sound from.

  I fight to keep my fear at bay. My knees wobble and I gasp in a breath of air. "Let go," I say, jerking my hand away from him, but he holds on, his lips twisting into a smile. "You're hurting me."

  "Why do you want to get back inside so badly?"

  "I just want to get back to Holt. He's probably worried about me." I can feel myself begin to sweat. He makes another clicking noise and I twitch involuntarily.

  "You did see something. What?" he spits at me.

  "I don't know what you're talking about. Please let go of me," I beg, my flesh beginning to crawl where this cold-blooded killer has his hand on me.

  "You and I are taking a walk," he says grimly, pulling me toward the other side of the lot.

  I dig my heels into the ground and as I let out a full-blooded scream. I'm not going anywhere with this psychopath.

  Chapter Twenty

  Holt

  "Chill! Chill!" I yell into Crank's ear as he struggles to get out of my headlock.

  "Let me go!" he screams back, jerking his head around desperately. "Where'd Fish go? That motherfucker!"

  "What? What about Fish?" I almost slacken my grip out of surprise. "What's he got to do with this?"

  "That motherfucker started this! Fucking threw a bottle out of nowhere, cut my old lady's face. Blamed Fingers, but I saw him myself."

  "Fuck. Fuck!" I swear as I drop my arms and release Crank. I barrel my way through the rest of the group, pushing toward the tree where I left Jo. She's gone. I circle around, my eyes darting everywhere as I search for her. "Jo! Jo!" I yell. She's not out here. I run toward the back door and the music and sweat from inside hits me full blast. "Jo! You seen Jo?" I cry frantically as I push my way around. "Wilkes! You seen Jo anywhere?" I ask him as I spot him and Cara against the bar.

  "No…what's going on?" he says, frowning at me.

  "Can't find her…think it's Fish." My head snaps toward the front door. "You hear that? Thought I just heard a scream."

  "I didn't hear anything."

  "Wait…there…" Just above the music, I heard it again. I bolt for the front door and hear Wilkes and Cara following after me.

  I feel an explosion of adrenaline as I burst outside. Fish has his hands on Jo and she's doing her best to fight back as he drags her toward the street.

  "FISH!" I roar as I charge toward them. He lets go of her and she stumbles back. He crouches down into a fighting stance as I rush him. He's no match for me and I slam him onto the pavement in a tackle. I get two solid punches in before I feel Wilkes trying to pull me off. I try to throw him but he gets me up just enough to give Fish room to wiggle away. He stands up and I heave Wilkes off of me. "Fight me, you fucking coward!" I scream at Fish, but he just smiles and runs toward the front door. He knows he could never beat me in an actual fair fight.

  I stare after him for a moment, hearing the silence fall around me. I slowly turn around and my heart drops at the expression on Jo's face.

  She's staring at me in horror, her hair disheveled, her blouse torn across her stomach. I move to take a step toward her and she flinches and backs away. My Jo.

  "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you…" I whisper.

  "What's going on?" I hear Cara ask Wilkes behind me.

  "You…" Jo begins, then trails off. "The whole time. That's why you were at Billy's?"

  I nod.

  "Were you just…why didn't you just kill me? Why all of the rest of this…just to fuck with me?" her voices rises into hysteria.

  "No. I…I was sent to find out what you knew. If you were going to tell the cops. The rest… I mean, at first, it was…" I struggle to continue. I can see every word hitting her as though it's a physical blow. "At first it was just to get close to you. To gain your trust. But it's real now. What's between us is real. Everything else you know about me is the truth."

  She begins to laugh, an unnatural sound that's nothing like the one I've come to know.

  "And what…" she gasps for air. "What if I had known something? What then?" she challenges me, her voice beginning to be tinged with an edge of anger. "You would have killed me?" I don't answer. "My god…"

  I step toward her as she looks around herself, into the air, as if she's trying to figure out where she is.

  "Jo, please. I love you. I want you to be my old lady. We can, we will figure out the rest," I tentatively take her hand. "I can't live without you. We'll find a way."

  Her eyes snap up to mine as she yanks her hand away. "Fuck you," she says softly. "Fuck you!" She shoves me hard in the chest, rocking me back on my heels, and then hits me again and again in the torso as she begins to sob. I keep my arms at my sides, letting her do what she wants. I deserve all of it, and more. She finally collapses against me, her forearms resting on my chest. I begin to reach up my arms behind her, wanting to hug her, to comfort her, but she pushes off me and backs away again. "Stay away from me. I never want to see you again."

  "What the fuck's going on out here?" I hear Bark's voice and music from the party leak outside as he opens the front door.

  "I'm handling it!" I turn around to yell at him. My eyes flick over to Wilkes, who has his arm wrapped protectively around Cara's shoulders.

  When I turn back to Jo, she's gone.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jo

  It was stupid to come back here, I realize as my eyes dart frantically around my apartment. I can practically feel the walls closing in on me. What if Holt put a camera in here, or a bug? Maybe they're watching me right now. Maybe that's why he
would sleep over here: to set up surveillance.

  A sob escapes my lips. I turn to double check the locks and lean against the door to catch my breath. I ran away from the clubhouse as soon as they turned their backs. I found a bar nearby and called a cab to pick me up there. I should have gone to Elise's... No. A motel. Somewhere where I wouldn't put anyone else in danger.

  I struggle to focus on that fact: that I'm in danger. The massiveness of Holt's betrayal has rocked me to the core. I still can't understand it, can't wrap my mind around the sheer scale of it. The whole time I knew him, he was just watching me for his club. Prepared to kill me if he had to. Our "connection"? Manufactured. He could be anyone. He could have been sleeping with someone else the whole time we were together. Laughing about my gullibility.

  God, I was blind. How could I not have thought about the timing? Holt came into Billy's just the day after the shooting. The tape, where I was wearing my shirt. They must have watched it and sent him in to pick me up, and I fell for it. Hell, I actually asked to go back to his place. He must have thought the whole thing was too easy. That I was too easy.

  It's almost too painful to admit to myself now: I loved him. I love him. I can't turn it off that right away, though I'll try to grind it out of myself as quickly as possible. I had allowed myself to imagine a life with him, what our home would be like, even children.

  Anger flashes through my brain, clearing my thinking for a moment. I have to make sure I'm safe. Now that they know I can positively identify Fish as the murderer, and implicate the rest of the club in covering up the crime, they'll come after me. That was the whole point of Holt's mission, and he accomplished it.

  I walk around to every window and check to make sure they're closed and locked. I'm on the 4th floor, so I don't think anyone could come in through a window anyway, but I wouldn't put anything past these guys at this point. The front door is my biggest concern now. You have to buzz to get in, but it would certainly be easy enough for a determined person to either wait for someone to hold the door for them, or pretend to be a delivery man and buzz to leave a package. Then all the protection I would have is my own, rather thin, apartment door.

  It would be a big risk for them to just come in here and make all the noise to bust it down. I mean, it's not the best building in the world, but one of my neighbors would surely hear that and call the cops. I'll make it even harder for them, just in case. I take my one kitchen chair and jam it up underneath the knob, then push my couch up behind it and pile it with knick-knacks from my shelves. Now it'll be harder to break down and much noisier. OK, OK…now I can take a breath.

  I back up into the armchair and kick off my heels, pulling my feet up under me as I stare at the door. My phone rings again in my purse where I tossed it on the floor. It's been ringing ever since I ran, and I know that it's Holt. I get up, turn off the ringer, and return to the chair. The noise was distracting me and I need to think.

  I can't do anything tonight, but what is my next move? I want them to pay. All of them. They all knew what was going on—I can see that now. Though I wish I could somehow get my vengeance myself, I know that I need to report them to the authorities. And that's where it gets sticky again.

  They've definitely got at least one cop working for them—the one Fish called. But there could be more. There is one person I could ask…Grant, Elise's new boyfriend. I mean, an accountant wouldn't be corrupt, but he might be able to tell me who to talk to, maybe even get me in with someone really high up right away. And I won't go to the precinct. I'll meet Grant somewhere public and then the cops somewhere public so nothing shady can go down.

  I'll get his number from Elise and call him tomorrow. There's nothing else to do right now, but I'm not even close to being able to sleep. Normally I might turn the TV on, but I want to be able to hear if someone is coming down the hallway. I walk to my kitchen and pull a butcher knife out of the wooden block on my countertop. I catch a glimpse of my mascara-blackened cheeks in the reflection on its blade and think I might just feel crazy enough to use it.

  It was a night just like this, about a month ago, when it all started. When I decided to have a quiet night and went to the gas station for something to eat. I remember I was actually feeling bored that night. Maybe my restlessness was like a beacon, drawing all of this craziness to me.

  I sit back down in the chair and place the knife on the coffee table in front of me, within easy reach. Now's not the time for philosophizing. I just have to wait.

  I press ignore on my phone again. Holt has been calling me nonstop and leaving voicemails. The memory of the expression on his face last night flashes before my eyes. I recognize that it could have been a reflection of my own—we both felt hurt and scared. But I can't allow myself to think about him now. Can't allow myself to remember what he said, and how he defended himself. I've already made myself far too vulnerable with him, and feelings could get me killed now.

  I watch a beam of light from the window crawl across the wall. I fell asleep for a few hours last night in this chair, even in my hyper-alert state. This morning, I got Elise's number from Grant, saying I wanted to get a head start on party-planning. It was clever, I think. Her birthday is in a few weeks, and this won't get her involved in any way, and I can use the same excuse with Grant to get him to meet me. I'd rather not say anything over the phone. Maybe that's being paranoid, but clearly I haven't been paranoid enough until now.

  I allowed myself to turn the TV on but kept the volume muted. I almost had a heart attack when my neighbor went down the hallway with his dogs. Grant said he had a lot of forms to file but could meet me after work. I suggested a plaza by the park. It always has people in it, milling around from the restaurants and bars nearby, but it's open enough that I can see people coming. God, I feel like some kind of spy, like I'm in a Jason Bourne movie. Except he would be way better at all of this.

  OK, almost time to leave to meet Grant. I get up stiffly and wash my face and put on a clean pair of jeans and long-sleeved shirt. I take my smallest cross-body purse and swing it across my chest to allow for ease of movement in case I need to run. I can't very well take this butcher knife with me, so I grasp my keys hard in my palm and stick my largest one out between my knuckles, like I've seen in self-defense classes.

  My adrenaline builds as I stick my head out the door and look both ways down the hallway before scurrying over to the stairwell. My hands shake as I open the door—stairwells are always where bad things happen. I yank open the door and look up and down, pausing to listen for breathing or Fish's throat noise. Nothing. I decide to run. I leap down the stairs two at a time and make it to the first floor landing and hop into the lobby. I brace myself for the next stretch: the parking lot. Jesus, it's like a fucking gauntlet of the most vulnerable places for women.

  I look out of the front door and can see cars going by in the low evening light, and a couple people walking by. No motorcycles. No signs of Holt, Fish, or any of the rest of them. I push the door open and walk quickly to my car, glancing around as I go. My adrenaline spikes and I struggle to breathe as I near my car. I slide behind the wheel and shut the door behind me and lock the doors. I take a deep breath that almost turns into a sob but I blow the air out slowly to calm myself and turn on the engine.

  I flip on my headlights as I pull out of the parking lot and turn by the gas station where it all started. If I'd just gone out with Elise that night… I jump in my seat as someone beeps at me. Fuck. What's their problem? I'm driving normally. I glance nervously in my mirrors, checking for any sign that I'm being followed. What if that was some kind of signal and they're going to run me off the road?

  I look up at the red light as I slow to a stop. It's less than a ten minute drive to the plaza. I just have to make it 'til then. Maybe Grant will be able to put things in motion from there and this will all be over.

  I start as the car just behind me beeps at me. Fuck! What's going on? I tense as I see the driver pull back and then come around to my driver's side a
nd roll down his window. Should I run the red light to get away? I peer into his window. I don't recognize him. He's pointing to the back of my car, and he's saying something. I roll my window down a crack so I can hear him.

  "Your taillight's out! Right side!" he calls out.

  "Oh. Oh, thanks!" I say. The light turns green and he pulls away. Seriously? A busted taillight? I frown as I drive forward through the intersection and begin to drum my thumbs nervously on my steering wheel. If the last month has taught me anything, it's that there are no coincidences. And a broken taillight, right now, seems pretty coincidental.

  Maybe I should pull a U-turn at the next intersection. Or maybe that's what they want. Maybe they're waiting for me back at the stoplight. Holt would know.

  My god, I'm still thinking of him as some kind of protector. It's hard to so completely change the idea I had of him. My mind, and my heart, still want to see him in a certain way.

  I jerk my head up as I hear sirens wail behind me. Red lights begin to flash across my dashboard. I was right. That taillight was no coincidence.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Holt

  I frown through the darkness as I watch the cop car pull up behind Jo. I've been sitting on her since last night. I knew that now that she can identify Fish, she's in danger. There was an emergency Hell Hounds meeting called, but I wasn't there, because I knew Fish wouldn't be either. He's going to go after Jo, and I have to stop him.

  I've been calling her nonstop, trying to warn her. My stomach dropped when I saw her apartment light was on. She shouldn't have gone home. Fish knows where to find her. I didn't see him while I was there, but I know he was around somewhere, keeping an eye on her movements.

  The cop gets out of his car and walks up to the window. Shit. It's Rich, our contact in the force. He must be using her taillight as an excuse to pull her over. I bet Fish broke it in the middle of the night. Rich steps back and I see her open her door and step out. Fuck, that's not good, but what is she supposed to do? Start a police chase?