The way that Ryker and Dash reacted told me that the power dynamics of the club were subtly shifting, and this troubled me. I was overplaying my hand. I'd been Ryker's favorite ever since he patched me in eight years ago, but he fuckin' owed Lynch now 'cause Lynch had taken a bullet for him a year back. Ryker never would've stepped between us before then... And now Dash was hanging around Lynch too? Something was afoot. I had to be fucking careful.
"Axl, my boy," said Ryker, putting his hands firmly on my shoulders, "get a hold of yourself." He steadied my arms.
On the ground, Lynch snarled and wiped blood on his sleeve. Dash released my fists from his grip, and stepped around me to extend a hand to Lynch, helping him up. I glared at Dash, and it pissed me the fuck off that my best buddy in the club was helping that piece of shit Lynch off the floor.
Was I on the outside now?
Ryker guided me across the room, pushing me down firmly into the chair that Dash had been in. He then leaned back against his desk. Next to us, Lynch had stood up. Dash was standing next to him.
Ryker looked at me hard. "Clear your head," he said sharply. "You've been my right hand ever since I took you off the streets, and this ain't like you. This girl, she ain't your old lady."
Next to me Dash spoke softly and deliberately. "You know he's right, buddy," he said. "She isn't our problem anymore."
"The club VP," said Ryker, "must always think clearly. And right now, you ain't."
"You're goddamn right about that," said Lynch, rubbing his jaw.
I glared at him.
"Listen, boy," said Ryker. "I know you. You were a kid on the streets when I found you. Not even 18. With nothing, no one. Just another kid in that meat grinder they call the foster system. You were alone, and that affected you. You've always stood up for those who can't protect themselves, and I admire that. But the club comes first. Always. Don't forget that."
I fumed silently. Internally, I tried to resolve to let her go, fighting a mental battle as I stood there. But my conscience fought me at every step. I couldn't fucking accept leaving Holly unprotected, ripe for the Reapers' picking.
Ryker crossed his arms and straightened his head. "Clear your head," he said again. "Take a couple days off. Go for a long ride. I don't give a shit, as long as your head is screwed on straight when you get back here. Shit's volatile right now between us and the Reapers, and we need everybody on point."
I gritted my teeth, suppressing the urge to go crazy.
"Understand?" he said.
I paused, for what seemed like forever, unable to speak. Finally, I summoned all my strength.
"Right."
"Good. Now get the hell out of here," he said.
Lynch was staring right at me, his expression signaling his seething disdain for me. Now I had enemies inside and outside the club. Lynch wanted VP, and he was unpredictable. With all the shit going down, there was no way to know what he might pull. I had to watch my back.
I about-faced and exited the room without a word, but as I stepped out into the main clubhouse, I heard Dash's voice behind me.
"Axl," he said, pulling me aside. "What the hell's gotten into you?"
Dash had been with me through thick and thin since the beginning. He was always the guy I could go to, the guy I could trust. But we were coming down on opposite sides of this issue.
"Not a goddamn thing," I grunted.
Just that I'm supposed to sit here and twiddle my fucking thumbs while the Reapers do God-knows-what to the only chick that's ever made me feel something.
I turned and walked away without saying another word.
12
Holly
I stared into my laptop screen, squinting. I'd been working in my room since the talk with my parents, and my eyes were all red and puffy. I was trying to catch up on all the classwork I'd missed in the last two days. I hated getting behind and tried to avoid it at all costs. Playing catch-up always made things a thousand times harder.
There was barely a month and a half left until graduation, and it was going to be a pain in the ass to finish my documentary without my camera. I was going to have to borrow equipment from the school. And their cameras were all old crap that were guaranteed to slow me way down. Not to mention I had to rethink the entire project without the junkyard angle. No way was I going back there a second time.
I sighed. I minimized the web browser and opened Skype. My best friend Brooke was online.
"hey," I wrote to her, "you ever feel like your life is just a constant parade of the most ridiculous shit happening?"
"haha," she wrote back, "everyday. our lives are ridiculous. keep your head up, girl... you gonna go out with nathan this week?"
Nathan was a kid I met in my chemistry lab. He'd asked me out last week and I'd given him a tentative "yes," but I wasn't excited about it. Nice kid, I guess, but going out with him after meeting Axl was like going from a diet of French chocolate truffles to Fruit Roll-Ups. A kiddie downgrade. From man to boy. I was actually kind of afraid that Axl had spoiled my appetite for guys completely. I didn't think I was going to find another man like him at my college. Or anywhere else.
"idk," I wrote. "He's kinda lame. whatever. I'm wiped out, going to sleep. ttyl."
I sighed and shut the laptop. Bleary-eyed, I looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It was already eleven-'o-clock, and I only had Sunday left to finish my work before going back to class on Monday. Yep, I was going to be working all weekend. It seemed strange to be going back to everyday, mundane life after the craziness that had happened this week. But I had made myself a promise that I intended to keep. No more Axl Archer. Not even any thinking about Axl Archer. It couldn't lead anywhere good.
I got up and stumbled out of my bedroom, my feet padding quietly on the soft plush carpet of the upstairs. I crossed the hall and flicked on the light switch in the bathroom. I studied my face in the mirror. God. I was looking rough. I guessed that was what 48 hours of near-constant adrenaline and sleep deprivation did to a girl.
Sighing, I turned on the faucet and started brushing my teeth. I was still brushing when I swore I heard a sound coming from down the hall. I took the toothbrush out of my mouth, toothpaste bubbles foaming at my lips.
"Mmom?" I said into the hallway. "That you?"
There was no response. Normally I would've shrugged it off, but something felt off.
I put down the toothbrush and spit out the foam bubbles in my mouth before walking back across the hallway and peeking into my bedroom.
Nothing.
I entered my bedroom, and everything was as I'd left it. There was a cool draft coming in from the window, though, which was cracked. That was strange—I didn't make a habit of keeping my window open and I couldn't even remember the last time I'd opened it. There hadn't been a draft when I'd been sitting there working on my laptop... had there? I was so tired I couldn't be sure. But nothing else looked out of place. I probably just needed some sleep. I pushed the window closed tightly until the weather stripping sealed out the wind, and latched it again.
I went back to the bathroom, finished brushing, and then returned to my bedroom. I shut the door with a click and turned the lights off. My eyes relaxed, adjusting to the dark. Only a faint moon glow came in through the window.
For the first time in nearly three days, I was finally alone—actually alone, with no one watching me or bothering me. It was an incredible relief.
I padded along the carpet, and flopped down onto my bed, pulling the covers over me. The soft pillows cradled my head and it felt so good to finally be in my own bed again. If only I didn't have to wake up to an alarm clock the next morning. I felt like I could sleep for days.
In spite of myself, my mind began to wander back to the events of the weekend as I drifted off to sleep. As hard as I tried, I couldn't flush the thought of Axl out of my head. Couldn't forget his incredibly handsome face, his smell, his touch, his taste. I replayed the memory of our roadside encounter in my head, and felt wet between my
legs. My hand began to find its way down my stomach, and my fingers slipped under the elastic waistband of my panties. I closed my eyes.
And then a gloved hand covered my mouth. I opened my eyes and screamed instinctively, but my scream was completely stifled as if someone had hit my mute button. An intruder wearing a black coat and ski mask stood over me, his hand pressing hard against my mouth. A second, shorter masked figure stood by my closet.
Fuck—the closet! I instantly knew what had happened—they'd come in through the window and were waiting in my closet the entire time I was brushing my teeth. A sick feeling flooded my stomach. I'd always felt safe in my own house, but now it was clear that feeling was only an illusion.
I wished Axl were here.
I wiggled, struggling to free my mouth from under the man's glove, but he only pressed harder. And then, with his other hand, he reached behind his back and pulled out a gun.
13
Axl
I paced back and forth in my room, Ryker's orders ringing in my ears. Orders to let Holly go, to let the Reapers exact their vengeance on her.
And for what? Yeah, she'd seen shit, but she wasn't a part of it. That was what separated the Sons from pieces of shit like the Reapers. A little fucking common decency and a code of ethics.
"Goddammit!" I shouted, and drove my fist into the wall. My knuckles seared in pain, and a hairline crack flicked through the wooden wall.
I couldn't get her face out of my head. Her smile, her smell, the way she tucked her hair over her ears. Those big, brown, honest eyes.
Fuck it. I was going to get that girl, even if it meant going against my own club. Consequences be damned. Ryker could be made to understand.
Maybe.
I grabbed my cut from the back of my chair and threw it on. Then I grabbed my gunbelt, lashed it around my waist, and pulled out my desk drawer. My black polymer Glock lay in the drawer, atop a stack of cash and magazines. I grabbed the Glock and a loaded mag and shoved it inside. I chambered a round and jammed the Glock into the holster on my belt.
I exited the room and crashed down the stairs into the main clubhouse. It was eerily quiet tonight. Most guys had gone home to their families for a few days, laying low and preparing for shit with the Reapers. There was only the bartender and two guys drinking—my buddy Dash and a new prospect.
Dash looked up as I came down the stairs.
He knew.
"VP, buddy," he said, bouncing up from his barstool. The prospect and bartender watched quietly. "Lemme talk to you real quick."
"No time," I said flatly, heading for the main exit. But Dash sped up to intercept me and pulled me aside before I reached the door.
"Buddy," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, his expression a cross between concern and suspicion, "Don't do this, man. You're thinking with your dick. This ain't you."
My posture stiffened and the veins in my neck pulsed. "This ain't some whore who had it coming. She's an innocent. Can't let the Reapers do this to her."
Dash exhaled slowly, tension boiling beneath the surface. "Then you ain't my VP right now, brother."
"And if we're gonna toss an innocent girl to the Reapers, then this ain't my club," I said. "Now get the fuck outta my way."
Dash looked at me silently, the moment seeming to stretch infinitely in time. Finally, he looked down and stepped aside. I left the clubhouse, hopped on my bike, and raged through the city streets.
As I ran stop signs and cut corners, my bike blazing over the city blocks and shattering the quiet Saturday night of Coppertail, my heart pounded in my chest. If they'd gotten to her first...
When I finally pulled onto her street, I saw an unmarked van parked on the street opposite to her house. A van like that didn't belong in Coppertail.
"Fuck!" I yelled, pounding my fist against the handlebars. I locked the bike's front and back brakes with my right hand and foot, the bike's rear wheel squealing and fishtailing as I skidded to a stop, nearly going off the road into a ditch.
I swung the kickstand out hard, and leapt off my bike. I ran toward the house, adrenaline pumping through my veins. Finally, for the first time in days, the perpetual hangover feeling in my head lifted completely. I felt fucking alive and ready for action. This was Axl fucking Archer in his natural state.
I bounded up the steps to the front door of the house and tried the handle. Locked. The front door was undisturbed. If they'd already busted in, they'd done it a different way.
I raced back down the stairs and around the side of the house—and that's when I heard the ruckus coming from an upstairs bedroom.
Shit. They were inside and they'd gotten to her first.
My brain and body finally firing on all cylinders, I urgently scanned the side of the house and willed a solution to come to me. And it did, like I knew it would. I thrived under pressure.
The tree. I scrambled up the branches, hoisting my weight up from limb to limb until I came face-to-face with the upstairs window. The scene I saw inside fucking enraged me, setting every fiber of my being on fire. Holly was sitting on the edge of her bed, her hands bound behind her back, a cloth gag stuffed in her mouth. Two men stood over her, one of them typing into the glowing screen of a cell phone.
I'd been in this lifestyle long enough to know that her being bound and gagged was a good thing. If these two fucks aimed to hurt her, they would've done it already. They wanted her alive, and that gave me the opening I needed.
I dropped down from the tree, not taking the time to descend the way I'd come up. My ankles and knees seared in pain as they absorbed the impact of my fall, but I gritted my teeth and ignored the pain. I sprinted back across the street where I'd parked my bike. I grabbed the handlebars and kicked out with my foot to retract the kickstand. Then, I shoved my bike backwards, letting it fall out of sight into the ditch behind the road. Normally I'd go fucking livid at the thought of my bike dropping, but with Holly's life on the line, I didn't need to think twice. My bike tipped over with a crash, out of sight.
I darted over to the van, crouching down on the side facing away from Holly's house. I reached into my boot and pulled my knife out of its sheath—I couldn't fire my damn Glock on a quiet night in a neighborhood full of families.
I gripped my knife hard, and I waited. Tonight was lights out for those Reaper fucks.
14
Holly
My heart pounded as I sat on the edge of my bed with my hands tied and my mouth gagged. I'd fought them as hard as I could. I'd gotten out from under the tall one's grip, and bitten his hand until I felt the tendons crunch between my teeth. I'd turned my head afterward, preparing for a retaliatory blow to my head, but it hadn't come.
The reply, which came through gritted teeth, was worse: "Fucking try that again, and we go find everyone else in this house."
I was scared to death, but no matter what happened to me, I wasn't going to let my parents get involved in this. No matter how angry they made me sometimes, they didn't deserve this. So I shut my mouth and let them tie me up.
After I was bound, the one whose hand I bit pulled out his phone, his palm wrapped in a white t-shirt from my dresser. He tapped on it for a few seconds and then waited. Neither man spoke until the phone buzzed in reply a minute later. He read the message on the phone and then said, "Anyone else awake in this house?"
I shook my head no.
"I hope for their sake you're tellin' the truth. We're going downstairs. Walk."
I had no choice but to lead the men through my house, past my parents' closed bedroom door, and down the stairs. As we walked, I held my breath, tiptoeing as gently as possible.
The tall one with the bitten hand led the way, while the shorter, fatter one followed behind me, his hand on the rope lashed around my wrists. When we got to the front door, the tall one opened it, and led me out of my house into the cold, dark night.
I was terrified of what might happen to me, but at the same time I was beyond relieved that we'd gotten out of the house withou
t my parents waking up. I couldn't bear to think what could've happened if they'd woken up.
The men rushed me across the street toward a black van with painted-over windows, which was parallel parked on the side of the street opposite my house. They led me around to the rear of the van, and the tall one opened the door.
That's when Axl flew around the side of the van. His body sprung into action like an angry animal, a murderous expression on his face. In his hand I saw the streetlight reflecting off a shining blade. The tall one never saw it coming when Axl raised his arm above his head and brought the blade plunging down into the side of the man's neck.
I screamed under my gag, struggling to pull away from the short man behind me. I twisted my body, wrenching my bound hands out of his grip. As I did so, I met Axl's eyes as he yanked the knife out of the tall man's neck. Blood spurted out like a fountain, splashing over Axl's chest and face.
As my hands came free from the man's grip, I threw my body toward the ditch on the side of the road. As a young girl, I used to sit in the ditch and have picnics with my grandma. But this time I crashed headfirst into a huge block of metal as I fell, disorienting me. I realized it was a motorcycle as I lay dazed, coughing. I could see Axl holding the knife and the short man fumbling in his jacket for his gun.
The man never had a chance—Axl was too fast. His arm flew backwards like a piston, and then drilled forward, the knife plunging through the short man's jacket and straight into his chest. He let out an agonizing scream that melted into a bloody gurgle as the knife carved up his lungs inside his chest. Still laying on my back in the ditch, I looked on, horrified. The short man collapsed to the ground as his gurgling scream died out and his life left his body.
Axl left his knife in the man's chest as he raced over to where I lay in the ditch.
Havok: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Page 21
