Instigation: A Twisted Mayhem MC Novel

by Cat Mason

  “The fuck?” Jinks blurts, his eyes going wide.

  Lacing my fingers, I crack my knuckles. “You heard me. He puts me down, he’s free to go. Hell, I’ll even give the fucker a free shot.”

  Jet works the knots loose on Bob’s wrists, while Blip gets his ankles free. “Stupid,” Bob says, pushing to his feet. Balling his fists, he steps closer to me. “You’d let me walk off this lot, knowing I’d bring back enough men to kill all of you?”

  “Not over ‘til the fat lady sings,” I inform him, waving him over with my hand. “Just know, if you don’t take me down first hit, Bobby Badass, I’m lettin’ loose on you. Full-fuckin’-throttle.”

  Bob’s fist slams into the side of my face. I stagger back a step, the ache of the impact radiating through the entire right side of my face. “Again,” I ground out, squaring my shoulders. “This is your only shot. Make it memorable.”

  He hits me again and again, each punch harder than the last. I stumble back into the workbench, my chest heaving as blood pours from my nose and the split in my bottom lip. No one else in the room makes a sound, or attempts to stop Bob from his assault.

  They all get why I have to do this my way.

  “Not bad,” I commend him, swiping at my face. Reaching behind me, I grab the wooden tire thumper from the hook on the wall, between punches. “Just not good enough.” I swing as hard as I can, the end of the thumper colliding with his jaw. Bob goes down like a sack of bricks. His head bounces off the concrete floor, his body going limp. “Well, hell,” I mutter, tapping the thumper against my thigh. “How’s that for anti-climactic?”

  Bending down, Blip checks Bob’s wrist. “He’s still got a pulse.”

  “Who’s the pussy now?” I ask, cracking the unconscious asshole in the ribs with the thumper. “That was a love tap.”

  “You hit him in the face with a club,” Torch snorts. “Did ya think he’d keep swingin’?”

  I shrug. “I never said I’d use my fists.”

  “Hell, he got off easy with Schrader,” Jinks admits. “Shy woulda just shot his ass and called it a day.”

  “Mhm,” I nod. “She’s not into draggin’ shit out. It’s sad really.”

  “Jinks.” Stone moves away from the wall, crossing the room to where a large metal cabinet is. “Take their wallets and the folder Blip found in their car. I want everything you can get your hands on.” Pulling the keys from his front pocket, he unlocks the cabinet doors and swings them open wide. “If this was Lorzano, the deal’s off the table.” Grabbing a wide serrated blade from the shelf, his eyes meet mine. “And I’ll slit his throat myself.”

  Jinks walks over to the folding table in the far corner, where his laptop is already set up next to what I assume is Bob and Tim’s wallets, and a blue folder.

  “If it wasn’t?” I ask, knowing that, thanks to D.A., we’ve pissed off more than one high-handed motherfucker with anger issues.

  Stone blinks slowly, rage simmering beneath the surface of his hardening expression. “Then we call up Merc and take the fight to Teague’s front door.”

  Taking the knife from his outstretched hand, I toss the thumper to the workbench and immediately look to Jinks. “Need a finger?” I ask, raising my brows.

  “I don’t need it removed from their body to get a print, you sick fuck,” he laughs, fingers already flying over the keys. “There’s other ways that don’t involve dismemberment, if I end up needing a print.”

  “You order one of those ink set ups like they’ve got at the P.D.?” I ask, tapping the tip of the blade on the workbench. Glancing over at Tim, I wink. “We can decorate ‘em with glitter and frame ‘em for your geek central command center.”

  “Why don’t you cut off the whole arm?” he deadpans, not taking his eyes from the screen. “Then I’ll have somethin’ to shove up your ass besides my boot.”

  “Sorry,” I shrug. “When it comes to anal lovin’, I’m a giver not a taker. You’ll have to find someone else to be your fuck boy.”

  “This idiot’s fuckin’ my sister,” Jinks mutters, shaking his head. “Talkin’ about anal. Somebody better shut him the fuck up.”

  “Let’s focus on the important shit,” Stone says, attempting to get us back on track.

  “I.D.’s are fake,” Jinks says, ignoring me and the others laughing while he continues to type. “Big shocker there. Plates are bogus too. VIN number on the shitter they were drivin’ is registered out of Desoto, Mississippi, to Waylon Jessup. Jessup, who’s eighty-seven next week, is currently livin’ it up at the Bayside Elder’s Village, on the scenic and luxurious shores of Palm Beach. Waylon has lived at Bayside for the last three months, has full amenities and access to all available VIP perks of a platinum residency,” he adds, mocking the ad as he reads. Jinks stops typing and adjusts his screen. “Where the female to male ratio is five to one.”

  “Lucky bastard,” Blip laughs. “That fucker’s currently burnin’ through Viagra like breath mints in a Heaven made of nothin’ but lonely pussy and slip-resistant socks.”

  “No shit,” Jinks mutters, shaking his head. “Jessup has one daughter. Marla Jessup-McCall has been doin’ a twenty-five to life stent for the last nineteen years. Jessup finished raisin’ her two boys after she was found guilty of killing a man’s wife she was having an affair with.” Jinks turns the laptop to face us. Filling the screen is a picture of Bob and Tim, with a man I assume has to be Jessup. “Guys, meet Nick and Shawn McCall. Two slimy pieces of dog shit, who cost Gramps nearly everything because of a mound of gambling debt Nick got himself in with none other than— Drumroll please!” he shouts, banging on the table. “Maxwell motherfuckin’ Teague.”

  “Nice work, Jinks,” Stone says, turning his attention to Shawn. “Secrets never stay dead but people sure as hell do.”

  “You better start talkin’, Timmy-Shawn,” I explain. Stepping closer, I poke him in the chest with the tip of the knife. “We only need one brother; and trust me, you really want that to be you.”

  After our little heart to heart with Timmy-Shawn, he starts running off at the mouth like a hypochondriac in the emergency room triage while Blip and Jet get a now partially conscious Nick back into his chair and restraints. Trading the knife for my gun, a sort of calming rush begins to flood through me. Walking over to Nick, I release the safety. “I wanted you to be awake for this, Nick.” His eyes widen when I use his real name. “Wanted you to hear your brother throw you under the bus before I blow a hole in your head.”

  “Don’t say a goddamn word,” Nick grounds out, glaring at his brother.

  “I never wanted anything to do with this! You’re the one who said we had to come back here and finish what we started,” Shawn argues. “I didn’t kill that fuckin’ cop. You did. The hell if I’m gonna die because of your debt.”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Nick shouts, then a confident smile spreads across his face. “Teague wired up me and the car before we ever set foot into Tennessee. He’s got eyes on us right now. You just brought the devil right to your front door.”

  “You tell the devil he can ring my doorbell any day, asshole,” I fire back, unafraid. “I guarantee I’ve got a few tricks he ain’t seen yet.”

  “Your car’s at a chop shop a few towns over. Probably already bein’ stripped down,” Blip informs him. “As for that little black box you had in your back pocket, it went into the river before we ever left the school parking lot.”

  “Newsflash, asshole,” I laugh, pressing my gun to his temple. The smile falls right off his face. “You’re not fuckin’ with amateurs here. Teague knew that before he sent you. That calculated fucker doesn’t give a rat’s ass about you. And he sure as shit won’t be wastin’ an ounce of manpower on a couple of worthless shit stains like you. He sent you to do his dirty work because you’re expendable. To him, you’re already dead.”

  “You’re wrong,” he shouts, struggling against the ropes. “Dead fuckin’ wrong.”

  “That’s funny.” Taking a deep breath, I squeeze
the trigger, sighing contently when the gun jerks and the bullet smashes through his skull. “He took the words right outta my mouth.” Looking to Shawn, I smirk. “I’ve got six more in the clip. You wanna make sure it stays that way, ya feel me?” Shawn trembles like a little bitch, but manages to give me a nod.

  “Now,” Stone says, stepping up beside me. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Shy

  Lying in bed, I stare at the red lit up numbers on my alarm clock, the minutes passing like hours as I chase the sleep that has evaded me all night. My mind won’t shut off. All the bad shit happening, and so much up in the air, has me all twisted up. Everything is changing and I am caught in the tide, helpless to stop everything Troy did from hurting everyone I care about. He may be dead, but he refuses to stay buried.

  The only good things I have left in my life are all on this lot; I have a sinking feeling in my gut that, at any minute, they could slip right through my fingers.

  There is a tap on the door. Before I can get my mouth to move, the door opens and closes. The lock clicks, followed by the rustling of boots and clothes. “Schrader?” His name comes out on a sob.

  The bed dips as he settles, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me back against him. The warmth of his body, the strength in the protective way he holds me shatters the last ounce of strength I had left holding me together. A tear slips down my cheek at the realization that he knew what I needed without me having to say the words.

  “We need to talk,” I breathe, running my hands up his forearms. There are so many things that I need to say to him, that I need to explain.

  Pressing his lips to my shoulder, he sighs. “Are you gonna ask me to leave?”

  “No.” I close my eyes, knowing that asking him to leave is the last thing I want to do. He has no idea how much I need him to stay, to do exactly what he is doing right now. His arms cradle my broken pieces, unknowingly keeping me together at a time when everything seems to be falling apart. “Please stay with me.”

  “Then whatever it is can wait, Babe.” His arms tighten around me. “As long as you want me in this bed, long as you’re givin’ me all this sweet, I don’t care about anything else. Save it for the daylight.”

  Blinking back tears, I roll to face him. Threading my fingers through his hair, I search his eyes as best I can in the darkness. I can see how badly he wants this; how wrong I have been to ignore what has been growing between us at an impossible rate. I have been pushing Schrader away out of self-preservation and fear. I have been doing the very thing that I hope he doesn’t do to me once he knows what I have been hiding. His body stills expectantly, waiting for me to move. “Take what you need, Shy baby.” Licking my lips, I swallow the words that I know I should say, the truth I know he, and everyone else, deserves to hear and press my lips to his.

  Schrader lets me control the kiss, his lips and tongue taking their every cue from mine. I want so badly to go slow, to savor every second, but I can’t. Rolling him to his back, I deepen the kiss, my fingers sliding down to run along the coarse hair on his jaw. My other hand moves down his chest and torso, feeling every ridge of muscle twitch and react to my touch. “I’m so tired of fighting this, Schrader,” I murmur against his lips.

  “I want you to fight for us.” Grabbing my hips, he pulls me onto him. “Not against us.”

  Straddling his thighs, I pull my shirt over my head and drop it to the floor. Schrader’s hands move slowly up my body, taking his time over each curve until they reach my breasts. Leaning up, he flicks one of my hardening nipples with his tongue before taking it into his mouth and sucking hard. “Ah,” I cry out, arching my back. My hands dive into his hair, holding him to me, needing him closer.

  Sliding a hand down to my ass, he digs his fingers into my skin. My body reacts to him as if I were a puppet on a string. My hips jolt, rocking into him, feeling every hard inch, separated by only the thin fabric of his boxers. Schrader growls, the vibrations going straight to my clit. Releasing my nipple, he slides his hand into my hair, pulling me closer as he thrusts his hips. “You wanna grind your sexy ass on me,” he pants, causing me to shiver. Ripping my underwear from my body, he smiles against my mouth. “Do it ridin’ my cock.”

  Reaching between us, I slide my hand inside his boxers and wrap my fingers around his length. Schrader hisses out a breath, his hips jumping as I stroke him slowly. His eyes close, jaw going slack when I circle the head with my thumb. Leaning up, I free him from his boxers and slide down onto him, slowly taking every inch of him inside me.

  Though I know I should stop this and get a condom, I can’t. I want to feel every inch of him, skin to skin. Absolute intimacy. I need this with him, to get lost in the oblivion with him, without barrier.

  “Fuck,” he grunts, his hand fisting the sheets.

  “Mmm,” I moan, digging my nails into his chest as I roll my hips. “You feel so good, Schrader.”

  “Nothin’s ever felt as good as your cunt workin’ my cock, Babe,” he replies on a long exhale.

  Schrader watches every slow and torturous move I make through hooded eyes. I see the need burning in his eyes, the urge he has to throw me to my back and take me hard and fast, but he doesn’t act on it. Instead, his hands roam my body, his hips moving in time with mine as our bodies build, both of us aching for release. Though I want nothing more than to drag the pleasure out as long as possible and watch Schrader fall apart beneath me, my body betrays me. Schrader’s hips shift, his pelvis grinding against me, putting the perfect amount of pressure on my clit. I detonate.

  Throwing my head back, his name rips from my chest, my nails digging into him so hard, I know there will be gashes left behind. “That’s it, Baby.” Flipping us, Schrader pins my hands above my head. Running his nose along mine, he nips at my bottom lip and drives into me so hard my entire body rattles. “Come for me again.” His hips are relentless, working me, pulling every ounce of pleasure from my body; driving me into another explosive orgasm before the other one has dissipated.

  Yanking my hands free, I claw at his back and ass, the intensity of the orgasm shatters me like glass. My heart hammers in my chest, my world shifting again. Schrader slams his mouth to mine, growling his release into a breath stealing kiss. “Shit,” he breathes, kissing a trail down to my ear. “Shy, we didn’t use a condom. Please tell me I can’t get you pregnant.”

  “No,” I answer, swallowing the guilt of my omission. “Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Good.” Pressing a quick kiss to my lips, Schrader flips on the lamp, climbs from the bed, kicks off the boxers that ended up around his ankles and heads for the bathroom.

  And just like that, during a moment when everything should feel right in my world, once again, he invades my thoughts.

  Rolling to the edge of the bed, I push to my feet and bend to grab my t-shirt from the floor. My head spins, the edges of my vision darkening, knocking me off balance. “Oh God,” I groan, stumbling forward. One hand finds the table, but it slides on a stack of papers, sending them to the floor, along with taking me to my knees.

  “Shy?” Concern fills Schrader’s voice. Grabbing my arms, he helps me to my feet and into the chair. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Stood up too fast I think.” Scrubbing a hand over my face, I blink several times before looking up to meet his eyes.

  Except, Schrader’s eyes aren’t on me. They are on the paperwork now sprawled across the floor. Bending down, he picks up a pamphlet with a business card stapled to it for the clinic in Knoxville. “Why do you have a pamphlet for an abortion clinic, Cheyenne?” he asks, though the look in his eyes tells me he doesn’t need an answer. “That why I don’t need to worry about knockin’ you up?” Tossing it to the table, he drops his ass to the bed and yanks a hand through his hair. “Because you’re already pregnant.”

  “Yes,” I breathe, pressing a hand to my chest, trying to ease the ache.

  “How long have you known?” he
asks, gesturing to the rest of the pile in the floor. “Were you ever plannin’ to tell anyone? Oh, wait. That’s not how Cheyenne works.”

  “That’s how Cheyenne works?” I ask, repeating his words. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Schrader?”

  “It means you’d rather drown than ask for anyone’s help,” he barks, throwing up his hands. “That it’s like pullin’ fuckin’ teeth to get close to you, but here I am, tryin’ like hell to do that.”

  “Why?” I ask, shaking my head. “What the hell do you have to gain?”

  “You!” I freeze the moment the word leaves his lips. He glances over at me, his eyes blazing.

  Clutching a hand to my chest, I sigh. “I found out at the hospital.” He nods, but doesn’t speak. Feeling too exposed, and needing to move, I tug on my shirt and stand to my feet, only wobbling slightly this time before Schrader reaches out to steady me. “Henley and the doctor gave me a folder filled with all of that so I could decide what I wanted to do.”

  “That why you had that break down and burned all his shit?” he asks, clearly playing everything back in his head from that night.

  “Partly,” I admit, knowing that moment had been brewing beneath the surface for weeks. Finding out I was pregnant was simply the straw that broke the camel’s back on the amount of emotional baggage I can carry at once.

  “You should’ve told me,” he argues, sounding hurt.

  “I tried.”

  He sighs. “Not very fuckin’ hard, obviously.”

  “That way you can be there for me, right?” I ask, tears falling freely down my face.

  “Fuck yes,” he says, pushing to his feet. “You know I will. We all will. Mayhem’s in your blood. This club is your family. Why wouldn’t you want that from us? From me?”

  “I told you before, you don’t owe me shit,” I inform him, giving him his out. “Don’t act like this doesn’t change things. It changes everything.”