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

by Loren, Celia

  I close my eyes, but all I can see is Holt's face, ghostly pale from loss of blood. Bark and Wilkes told me in the few minutes before the paramedics arrived that I had nothing to fear from them. Fish acted without the consent of the club, and I had defended myself, and one of their brothers. I would never have lied to the police for them, though; I did it for Holt.

  The more rational part of my brain knows that he could have gotten me out of this mess earlier, but I keep coming up against the fact that he took a bullet for me. I can't ignore it, and I can't ignore my feelings for him. It would be so much more convenient to be able to turn them off and move on with my life, but my heart doesn't work like that.

  I feel like I'm stuck in limbo. I'm furious at Holt, don't know if I can trust him, don't know what's true and what's not. But I also know how I feel, deep in my gut, when we're together, and that he would sacrifice his life for mine. What he said just a few nights ago keeps coming back to me. God, it feels like I've lived another lifetime since then. He said that he loved me, that he couldn't live without me. And three days ago, I would have said the same. But now I don't know how I feel

  I'm still mulling everything over when I fall asleep.

  I wake up at 7 AM, feeling like I'm emerging from a fog. I slept for nearly fourteen hours. As I open my eyes, I have the feeling of suddenly seeing the world through prescription eyeglasses. Everything seems a little sharper. Not that I knew I wasn't seeing everything clearly before. Maybe subconsciously I knew that I didn't know the whole truth, and now everything has clicked into place.

  I get out of bed and admire the sunlight streaming in through my window. I pull my robe on and walk into the kitchen. The herbs look a little dry from not being watered for a few days. I pour a small glass of water over them and pluck a small piece of basil. I rub the leaf in my fingers and breathe in the fresh scent.

  After a leisurely breakfast, I get into my work clothes, stuffing the gloves Holt gave me into the back pocket of my jeans. I grab the sandwich I packed for lunch and hit the road. The temperature is perfect for an early spring day—we haven't hit that overwhelming heat of the Vegas desert.

  I wave to Dale as I pull into the small office park where we're working today. He takes charge of the site, assigning us different duties. It feels a bit strange to be working without Holt, but I still like having my mind occupied. I spend most of my time on some large planters by the entrance, packing them with evergreens.

  Dale walks over as I'm working, sitting on the base of cement planter and telling me about the lunch. I roll my eyes at him and actually manage a grin. I'm safe, and Holt's recuperating, and I'm outside in the sun. I just need to focus on the simple things.

  Dale's cell phone rings and he glances at the number.

  "Probably one of my many female admirers," he says with a wink, and answers. "Hello?" He pauses for a moment. "Oh, sure. I've heard Holt mention your name….Don't worry I'm on it. We're at the site now. Everything's under control…Alright, bye now." He turns to me with raised eyebrows. "That was Holt's friend Wilkes. He didn't seem to know you'd already called me."

  "Weird," I say with a Sphinx-like smile. I bend back down to my work as a shiver goes down my spine. Even hearing from someone close to Holt has an effect on me.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Holt

  I frown down at my phone. I just spoke to Dale about how Evergreen's doing, and he assured me that he and Jo are on top of it. I rub the bridge of my nose. What does that mean? She's not returning my calls, but she wants to help with my company? I tried not to sound too shocked when he was telling me, but it was tough. I thought she was done with me…but maybe not.

  I toss my phone onto my bed and take a deep breath. There's still a sharp pain just under my rib. It's only been a week since the surgery, and I only came home a couple days ago. I'm on painkillers, but I'm trying not to take them too much because they make my head feel cloudy and it's impossible to think.

  "Ready?" Wilkes asks as he walks into my bedroom. I nod and supports me under my elbow as I stand up. We walk slowly to the door and then to one of the last empty spots in my living room, in the old armchair, set up in the center of the room. The rest of the spots are taken up by my brothers. It's strange to see them all here. There are going to be repercussions for my actions with Jo and Fish's death. They gave me some time to recover before the, well, trial, I suppose. And since I can't really move around, they all came to me.

  "First the good news," Bark begins from his place of honor in the middle of my couch. "The cops are definitely suspicious of us, but they don't have any proof that it didn't go down the way you and Jo said. They've pressed her hard, but she won't budge."

  I want to smile, but I hold it in, knowing these proceedings are serious. Another sign that Jo might not be over me.

  "Rich skipped town. He took a big payout from Fish to make that traffic stop, and when he heard we weren't behind it, he got scared and left. Probably a smart move."

  "Now the bad news. You already know what it is, but for prosperity…" The rest of my brothers shift, listening with more intensity now. Some of them know only part of the story from rumors going around the club. "You were told to get close to Jo, to find out what she knew about the shooting. But you got too close to her. You lied when you said she couldn't identify anything about Fish."

  "But—" I protest.

  "You'll get a turn to defend yourself. And I know it's not likely that the cops could have used Fish's throat tic to identify him, but still, you didn't tell me about it. You should have trusted your club to make the right call. Instead, you were selfish and kept it to yourself. Then, you ignored a mandatory meeting and many calls from me and other brothers. If you hadn't, it's possible that things with Fish would've gone down differently. Maybe he wouldn't be dead. Anyone got anything else to say?" He glances around.

  Fingers leans forward. "I know Fish could be crazy, but he was still our brother. After you swear an oath to this club, you don't get to cherry-pick which one of us you'll protect. It's all or nothing."

  Bark nods. "Alright, Holt. You say what you wanna say."

  I clear my throat. I'm not used to such a formal setting. In meetings with the Hounds we usually just spit out what's on our minds, but now I feel pressure to be articulate. Words have never been my strongest suit, and the stakes are high.

  "I've been a Hound almost ten years now. About a third of my life. For that time, it was my whole life. I've been there for a lot of you in hard times, just like you've been there for me. When we were at war with the Death Dealers, I think I did what needed to be done." Christ, it's hard for me to talk about myself like this. "I'm not gonna sit here and say there was any love lost between me and Fish. My sight's on the long life of this club. When the fighting between us and the Dealers was over, I was glad of it. There's more to us than violence, and that's all that Fish was in this for. He wanted to start the war right back up again so he'd have a chance to kill some people. I think if that's all you're here for, head down to the fucking state penitentiary and sign up to be an executioner." I glance around the room. My brothers are stone-faced, impossible to read. "Maybe it'll be hard for some of you to trust me after this. Maybe you don't know if I'll have your back when it comes down to it. But…but I'm asking you to remember when you met your old lady, and remember what you would've done for her. What you'd still do, to protect her."

  "Hold up, you're saying Jo's your old lady?" Crank asks, frowning.

  "She was about to be. I don't know now. But she's not just some sweet butt," I clarify.

  "Anything else you wanna add before we talk?" Bark asks, folding his arms over his chest.

  I pause, but I think I've said my piece. Wilkes gets up and helps me back into my bedroom, then closes the door behind him so my brothers can deliberate. If I had the energy to pace, I would. They're deciding my future in there, and it could be bleak. At worst, they might decide to kill me. Fish's blood for mine. At best…well, there's really no "best" i
n this kind of situation.

  I pick up my phone again and stare at the empty screen. There have been so many times over the last week when I wished I could talk to Jo, touch her.

  Talked to Dale. Thank you. I type out, press send, waiting to see if she'll respond. I hear the rise and fall of voices from the living room.

  My phone stays blank and I stare out the window at my front yard. I feel so powerless. Over my body, and my future. If the Hell Hounds kick me out, I'll have nothing. I don't know how to picture a future without my club.

  Finally, Wilkes opens the door and walks over to me. He doesn't look me in the eye, and I try not to read anything into it. I know he's not allowed to tell me anything. He leads me back down to the chair and I sit with a wince of pain. I need to take another pill.

  "No one here likes what's happened over the last couple months, and I mean that to include Fish's actions. Hell Hounds don't kill innocents. We might not live by society's laws, but we have to live with ourselves," Bark says, and looks down at his hands. "Holt, you did at times act against the club, but the consensus is that Fish got himself into his own mess. His death came as a result of his own actions. Bottom line, you're still a Hell Hound. But you're on probation for the next year. No percentage of the business, no vote in church."

  I reel back a bit as the judgment hits me. Probation for a year—that's a long time. But it could've been far worse.

  "That's fair," I acknowledge. "Thank you." I look around the room, and receive some nods from my brothers in turn. Crank walks over to pat me on the back and slaps me a little too hard. "Fuck," I murmur as I wince, and the room breaks out in laughter. Everyone's glad to have the whole thing done with. And maybe they won't acknowledge it, but I think that the general tension is lower now that Fish is out of the picture. He had the knack of making everyone a little on edge, even in his best moods.

  I stay seated as my brothers mill around me, talking. Only a couple leave quickly, unhappy with Bark's decision. Wilkes relaxes on the sofa as the last of them finally wander out and the chorus of bike engines finally ends.

  "Most sided with Bark?" I ask him.

  "There were a lot more against Fish than were willing to say it when he was alive. But actually, we ended up talking about Jo for a good bit of it."

  "Jo?" I ask, frowning. "Why? Bark said…I mean, she's clear now."

  "Oh, yeah, not about that. They were arguing about whether or not their own old ladies could've made the shot. Drugged up, in the dark, with a semi like that. If anything, she helped your case. She's fuckin' bad-ass, man."

  "Yeah, well, she won't return my calls."

  "I saw her face in the waiting room at the hospital. Don't worry. She's not done with you yet."

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jo

  I pause to pull off my gloves and yank the elastic out of my hair. A long tendril has come loose and is sticking to the back of my neck. I gather every strand and pile it on top of my head. A heat wave hit last week and the temperature jumped into the high eighties. Come summer, I'll be ecstatic for eighty-degree weather, but right now it's an unwelcome surprise.

  I pull my gloves back on as I pick up the hose and squeeze the handle, dousing the newly planted ivy on the home's rear wall. Dale stands up next to me to whistle at a woman walking her dog on the sidewalk and I turn the spray on him.

  "The fuck?" he protests as I laugh. He's about to grab the hose away from me when he looks over my shoulder and his expression changes to a grin. "Holt!" he yells with a wave.

  Oh, shit. My stomach knots. I haven't seen or talked to him in three weeks, since he disappeared behind the operating room doors at the hospital. I take a deep breath and turn around.

  A dumb grin spreads across my face as I see him and I bite my lip to keep it under control. He looks different. A little thinner. Maybe ten pounds, I think, as I scan his body. I feel heat run through my body as he makes quick eye contact with me, and fidget awkwardly with the hose. Dale starts talking to him and I stay put. I don't know what to say. Seeing him, I recognize the man I grew to love, but I'm scared he's going to turn out to be someone completely different.

  Dale glances back at me, then to Holt. "What the fuck? Lover's quarrel?"

  "Something like that," Holt murmurs. I shiver at the sound of his husky voice then steel myself enough to walk over.

  "How are you?" I ask, hearing how unnatural and formal I sound.

  "Doctors say I'm making good progress. Probably another week still until I can come back to work, but I wanted to come by as soon as I could, check up on everything."

  Dale looks back and forth between us as a silence stretches on. "OK…well, I'm going to get back to it then." Holt grins after him as he leaves. When his eyes fall back on me, I can see they contain a mixture of sadness and trepidation.

  "I…I wanted to see if you would go to dinner with me. Tonight," he murmurs. "Just one dinner. And then we can see, well…just one dinner."

  I turn over his suggestion in my mind. Dinner. It feels like a first date, which would be fitting, since we actually need to start over if there's any hope for us. I feel myself nodding.

  "Dinner."

  I gaze at the tattoo covering Holt's bare back. He's turned on his side away from me in my bed. After dinner last night, I didn't want to say goodnight. We didn't broach any of the "big" issues, just talked like two people getting to know each other for the first time. And then he walked me to my door…I invited him in…but somehow sex didn't feel quite right. We just fell asleep in bed together, on top of my covers. I like that he took his shirt off during the night. I got so used to seeing him sleep with it on.

  I move my fingers just a half an inch above his inked skin, not wanting to wake him. His tattoo, like the rest of his brothers, depicts a three-headed, snarling dog. Cerberus, he told me, guardian of the gates of the underworld. The original Hell Hound.

  He stirs and I yank my hand away. Shoot, must have woken him. He needs his rest after what his body went through. He turns over onto his back, the tattoo disappearing against my sheets, and opens one eye to squint at me.

  "Shit," I murmur, seeing the red scar at the top of his stomach. I gingerly touch the ridge of skin, feeling the hard scar tissue that's formed beneath it.

  "It's not so bad. I still have a good chunk of my spleen. People who have the whole thing removed sometimes have to take antibiotics for the rest of their lives."

  "Does it hurt?"

  "I get a twinge every now and then. Mostly I just feel more tired than usual, but the doctor said that'll pass. Said it's normal for having been legally dead for almost a minute."

  "Do you understand why I couldn't stay at the hospital?" I whisper, knowing it's finally time to address what we've been pushing back.

  "Yes," he murmurs. "I know I don't get to expect anything from you, after what happened. Seeing you again, talking to you, is already well above what I deserve."

  "You saved my life."

  "And you saved mine," he points out.

  "So we're even then?" I ask.

  "I don't know if it works like that," he replies with a sad smile.

  "Maybe I want it to. I want it to not be crazy that I want you in my life still."

  "You don't owe me anything," Holt says, looking down at me, his green eyes serious.

  "I know that. I'm not saying this because I feel like you owe me anything, I'm saying it…I'm saying it, well, because I love you."

  "Are you sure?" he asks. I widen my eyes at him. Not the right answer. He smiles in recognition. "I mean, I love you. Fuck, I love you. I just can't believe I'm hearing you say it."

  "Is this too insane? I mean, the way this started…it's not exactly the kind of story we'd tell our kids."

  "You want to have my kids?" he says with a wicked grin. I blush and bury my face in his arm.

  "You know what I mean," I groan.

  "Yeah, I want to have kids with you, too," he says. I raise my head and look at him in shock. "Well, I do," he sa
ys with a shrug.

  I can't hold back any longer. I grin wildly and lean down. I pause just over his lips, savoring the moment of expectation, then softly press my lower lip between his. I gasp as my body immediately comes alive as we touch. How have I gone weeks without this feeling?

  He groans underneath me and slips his tongue into my mouth. "Fuck, I missed you," he says, taking my face in his hands and bringing it away from his for a moment before pulling me back. Our tongues explore each other's mouths like it's new territory as my body hums with pleasure. I'm already shaking with desire for him. I force myself to sit up and pull off my t-shirt and jeans, then dive back down on top of him, careful not to jostle his scar. I move over to his ear as I unbuckle his belt, nuzzling him with my nose and sucking on his earlobe.

  He grunts as he tries to sit up to take off his jeans. I lay my hands on his shoulder and press him back into the mattress. "Let me do the work this time, OK?" He pauses, then nods and lies back. I know he's not used to giving up control. I stand up and walk to the foot of the bed, then take the hem of his jeans in my hands and slide them off his legs. With a grin, I reach up to his boxers and carefully wiggle them off, too. I lick my lips at the sight of him completely unclothed, and reach behind myself to unhook my bra and then slide my underwear off.

  He picks his head up off the pillow to get a good look at me, running his eyes over my body as I shiver in anticipation. I push his legs apart as I kneel between them on the bed, softly kissing the inside of his knee. His head falls back against the pillow as I lick and bite my way up his muscular inner thigh.

  I reach his crotch and an animalistic urge rises inside me. I take a long lick of his dick, from base to tip, and hear him moan in response. I want to feel him inside me right away, but take a deep breath to try to control myself. I bend over and take his balls in my mouth, moving them around slowly and tasting his sweat. Then I move up, licking his length again, before tucking my lips behind my teeth and moving slowly down his dick.