Rock Bottom

by Manda Mellett

  I don’t even flinch. All I have to do is remember how the Devils would have kicked me out. With the tat on my back itching, I don’t hesitate. “I can give you all that.” It’s clear he’s planning to take them all out, but again, I don’t ask for confirmation. I’m just a prospect. If I need to know, he’ll tell me.

  It takes an hour, during which I tell him all I know about the Devils. It comes to one fuck of a lot. Well, I was there sixteen years. He’d grabbed a pen early on and has scribbled a couple of pages in a notebook. After the first five minutes he’d called Krueger, Buff, and Wrecker in to listen as well. All four men question me closely, a couple of times repeating queries already answered, but they don’t trip me up.

  “Okay.” Chaos looks at the others. “I think that’s all for now. Once we’ve looked at this we may well have other things to ask you.”

  I shrug and offer, “I’m an open book. Anything I can tell you I will.”

  There’s a friendlier vibe coming off the four men now. They must know as well as I do, that by betraying the Devils I’ve signed my death warrant were it ever to come out. Wrecker raises his index finger, Chaos nods his permission for him to talk.

  “Reckon Rock could take over some of Squirt’s duties.”

  “The cellar?” Chaos asks.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Don’t see why not, Wrecker. I, for one, have started to trust him.” The prez gives a crooked grin. “After all, we’re all he has now.”

  Yeah. If the Satan’s Devils get wind of what I’ve just done, they’ll kill me on sight. Clean club or not, Chaos is right. Having opened my mouth and betrayed the Satan’s Devils, from this point on, the Chaos Riders are all that I’ve got.

  Well, I put myself in this position, came to the Riders with my eyes open, not worth worrying about the Devils now. Instead, I begin to wonder what they keep in the cellar, and what duties I’m going to take on. Weapons? Drugs?

  I’m stunned the next morning when I find out what their secret is, certainly nothing I would have expected. A girl. Kept in conditions I’d immediately remove a dog from if I found it living like that. Kept chained, she’s dirty and smells, wearing clothes which are tattered and obviously not recently washed. Her hair, which probably was once sleek and shiny, now falling out. The powerful odour alone had turned my stomach, but I couldn’t let anyone see my disgust. I kept my mouth shut, didn’t ask questions a prospect wouldn’t get an answer to, and ignored her as best I could while I did my job.

  Taking my cue from Squirt, I didn’t talk to her. If I want my patch I need to follow every order. But the morning I’d learned she had her period was when I broke my silence. Leaving her, knowing now she was Becca, not some faceless female, was hard. I wanted to stay and comfort her, tell her I’d do anything to help her out of her plight. But I couldn’t. The only thing I could do was get her the supplies she needed. She damn near broke my heart being so accepting of her captivity. No one should be treated like she is.

  But I do things right. First, I asked Squirt.

  “You fuckin’ what?” he replies, laughing. “I’m not going to a drugstore for her. I’ve got a fuckin’ cock.”

  I grit my teeth. And that makes you a man, does it?

  For the first time since what I think of as my interrogation, I go to see Chaos. Knocking on his door, he gives me permission to enter.

  “Prospect. Come in.”

  He doesn’t invite me to sit, and I’m kept waiting while he looks over some paperwork. Eventually he glances up. “What d’you want?”

  “The girl, in the basement.”

  He shakes his head. “Not saying nothing about her. You don’t need to know. What’s she said to you?” Narrowed eyes regard me carefully.

  I’d expected that response. “Nothing,” I deny. “But it’s not what she’s said, but what I saw.”

  I’ve got his interest, so I continue with just one word. “Blood.”

  He stands quickly. “She’s cut herself?”

  Keeping my voice even, I explain, “No, her period. And she hasn’t got any…”

  I suppose it would affect his manhood if I named what she needs, as he cuts me off. “Well, fucking get her some then. What you wasting my time for?”

  “Squirt led me to believe she wasn’t allowed any luxuries.” I defend myself, while dropping the other prospect in it.

  “Squirt’s not got the brains he was fucking born with. Luxuries, fuck.” His hand wipes over his head.

  “Thanks, Prez.” I shudder. “Didn’t like thinkin’ where that blood came from myself.” Which is totally untrue. Women have periods. Full stop. Doesn’t make me less of a man to know about them.

  “With you there, Prospect. Women need to hide that shit.” Chaos has paled, and he gestures I should leave. Presumably so he can recover from our conversation with his manhood intact.

  I didn’t break out in hives, and my cock didn’t fall off as I searched through the aisles, finally finding what I was looking for. The girl behind the counter didn’t belittle me as she rang my purchase up, and I successfully returned to the clubhouse without having grown boobs. Suspecting they’d frown on me giving her any comfort, I snuck a few Advil out of a bottle, placing them into my cut.

  When evening came I took her supplies down to her. It felt like a punch in my gut to see the look of pleasure on her face, as if I was giving her an expensive present of jewellery rather than basic sanitary items.

  Crouching down beside her, I clasp my hands between my legs. “Sweetheart, I’ll go give you some privacy in a minute, but can you tell me who you are, and why you’re being kept here?”

  Her eyes meet mine, something in their depths leading me to believe she’s summing up whether to tell me or not. Then the little shrug she gives suggests she realises she’s got little to lose. But when light comes into her eyes, she asks hopefully, in a voice little more than a whisper, “Will you help me escape?”

  Sadly, I shake my head. “Not right now, darlin’. But I’ll see what I can do. Give me some details first. Let me know what I’m dealin’ with here.”

  She looks down at her broken and dirty fingernails. “You’re one of them, though, aren’t you?”

  “I am.” Denying it would be suicide.

  She’s quiet for a moment, then, “I’m Becca Gardner. No one special. But my…husband is Hawk.” As she names him she trembles.

  “Husband?” I frown, while thinking, She’s married? Do the Riders want something from him? Is she being held for ransom or some such shit? And who is her husband? “Hawk his first name or last?”

  “The only name anyone calls him. It’s a nickname, like yours.” She puts her hand up to a straggly overgrown fringe and touches it. “He’s got a shock of white hair, here. Apparently, Hawk was the name of a badger in an old child’s story. His grandma named him. His proper name is Alexis Gardner. He is…was…a pastor in Phoenix.”

  A pastor? I don’t know if that makes being kidnapped and held for ransom more or less likely. What the fuck would the Riders want to hold over a pastor? Knowing I’ve not got much time, I file the name away and move on to my next question, hoping to get some answers. “Do you know why you here?”

  She nods. “Hawk got sent away to prison. A three-year sentence. He asked his ‘friends’,” she puts the word in quotes with her fingers, “to take care of me. Make sure I wait for him while he’s gone.”

  And this is taking care of her?

  “Three years? How long have you been here?”

  She indicates the wall she’s shackled to, and I see marks. Too many fucking marks. “Over three months.”

  This is the way they care for a friend’s woman? It doesn’t sound right. It breaks my heart to think she’s been here that long, and if she’s right, her release is nowhere in sight. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

  She bites her lip as though to prevent more coming out. Trust, it seems, has to be earned on both sides. Knowing I’ve already spent more time in the cellar than I sho
uld, I put my hand out. When she doesn’t flinch away I pat her arm, feeling how bony and skinny she is. Then I stand. “I better get back.”

  Staring at the floor as though it holds all the answers, she doesn’t acknowledge me as I leave her, wondering what the fuck I can do to help. No one should be treated the way they’re treating her. From what I’ve seen she’s not going to last another three months, let alone the full term until this Hawk is released.

  Chapter 7

  Rock

  “I’m out of here, man.” Taking the keys to my bike out of my cut, nonchalantly I bounce them in my hand.

  “Have a good afternoon.” Runner, the other prospect who I’ve taken a liking to, looks at me and grins. I’m not leaving them in the lurch—bikes are cleaned, clubhouse scrubbed down, both him and Squirt are around to deal with any of the members’ demands. “Give her one from me.”

  Winking at him, in a move reminiscent of my old friend, Beef, I put my hand over my crotch and, bucking my hips lewdly, chuckle. “How about two, even three? And I’ll make sure I enjoy them.” I see him put up his middle finger as I turn away.

  Fuck, it’s good to get out into the fresh air and away from the clubhouse. Happy for once to have the afternoon to myself without being at anyone’s beck and call, it’s hard to keep the shit-eating grin off my face as I ride out through the gates. My expression quickly turns into a scowl as I look into my rearview mirror and see another bike following me. Squirt. It could be coincidence. Wanting to find out, I test him, taking one turn then another. He’s sticking to me like fucking glue, not even trying to be discreet. He is following me.

  I give up trying to shake him and go the direct route, turning into a residential area and pulling up at a low-budget house. He parks up behind me. Turning off my engine and pocketing the key, I swing my leg over the saddle and prowl back toward him.

  “You’re not fuckin’ comin’ in,” I snap. “I don’t fuckin’ share.”

  He grins and absentmindedly squeezes one of his pimples. “Shame.”

  “Get fuckin’ lost.”

  “Free country, ain’t it? Think I’ll sit here and enjoy the sun.”

  He can sit there all he wants. As long as he doesn’t come any closer. “I’ll be here all afternoon,” I warn him. “Got some lost time to make up for.”

  He points to the door which has opened. Dressed in an almost see-through negligee, the woman I’ve come to see comes running out, screaming. “Rock!” She’s beaming, excitedly showing how pleased she is to see me.

  I can’t do anything but swing her up into my arms, planting my mouth on hers as I put on a show. I can tell that she’s giggling, my mouth isn’t what she’s had before—well, not north of her waist anyways. Holding her front tight to me as if I’m jealous of him seeing anything of mine, I flip him off over her shoulder, haul her up and carry her inside.

  As soon as we’re in the entrance I slam the door shut with my foot and immediately let go of her, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

  “I don’t kiss, Allie,” I remind her.

  “Shame. I enjoyed it.” Her sly smile makes me chuckle.

  “Go upstairs, Allie. Remember to put on a show.” A very welcome and masculine voice instructs her.

  Without needing to be told twice, she hurries away. I watch her go. “Who’s up there with her?”

  “Wraith.”

  “Wraith? But Sophie?” I frown. Wouldn’t it have been better to have brought one of the single men?

  A snort. “He’s not gonna fuckin’ cheat on Sophie. But he can still remember what to do. Your friend out there will see a lot of shadows movin’.”

  “Allie’s solid?”

  “Yeah. She’s a good’un.”

  As Drummer steps into the light I can’t hold back any longer. I hold out my hand, and when he reciprocates, wrap my fingers around his and tug him toward me. My hand goes around his back, his around mine, and we share a man hug for longer than normal. I haven’t seen him to talk to since the day before my expulsion from the club. The day he’d offered to put excitement back in my life by giving me the chance to quite possibly lay my life on the line for my brothers. I’d accepted, of course. Hadn’t hesitated.

  “Fuckin’ glad to see you, Brother. Fuck, thought you might be dead.” The emotion in Drummer’s voice nearly does me in.

  I swallow and blink rapidly. Then answer calmly, “For a moment there, Prez, I thought I was. Nearly didn’t survive their initiation.” I take a step back, which enables Drum to see the new, still-red scar on my face, and the bump on my nose that wasn’t there before. I open my mouth and point to the gaps where previously I had teeth. I haven’t had time to visit a dentist.

  “Fuck. Brother, I’m sorry.” His voice catches. They might not have killed me, but I’ve been left with permanent scars.

  Drum turns away, and I follow him into a back room where the curtains are drawn. He goes to the fridge and gets out two beers. “Now I’m sure you’d probably prefer to be upstairs gettin’ your rocks off, but how about you update me instead?”

  I grin. “I’ll have to go back bandy-legged.”

  “Don’t look at me, Brother. I’d do a lot of things for you, but fuckin’ you ain’t one of them.”

  We both laugh. Fuck, I’ve missed him. Missed this camaraderie. Leaning back, I take a swig of the welcome beer, feeling the most relaxed I’ve done in weeks. “So, Wraith knows. Anyone else?”

  Prez shakes his head. “No one. Best warn you, Rock. You show your face anywhere near the compound or our businesses, and you’re likely to end up dead. No one’s got a good word to say about you.” As my head bows, hating my brothers are thinking so little of me, Drum adds, “For now it’s best to keep quiet. Someone gets questioned, they can’t let anything drop if they don’t know what’s going on.” He points his own bottle toward me. “Best way of keepin’ you safe. Know how much you must hate it, Brother, but it won’t be for long.”

  “Doesn’t make it much easier.” The thought of my brothers believing I’d actually steal from the club pains me.

  Drummer nods, then chuckles as he changes the subject and indicates my cut. “Prospect, eh? Bet you’re enjoyin’ that.”

  I frown, growing serious. “That’s something I need to change, and fast. Need to get myself around that table.”

  “You find anything out yet?”

  “Nah. Oh, I’ve had the inquisition, told them everything we agreed. They think you’re a bunch of pussies and won’t put up much of a fight.” I take another drink. “Prez, their bitches are forced. They don’t respect women at all. Best look out for the old ladies and kids if we can’t take them out first.”

  A pained expression passes over his face. “At least we’re in the drivin’ seat with you on the inside. Even if it’s only to give us early warnin’.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen for a couple of weeks. They’ve got more men comin’ in. Don’t yet know when or how many. And I’m not in a position to ask.”

  He shakes his head. “Prospects don’t get told that shit. Not until they need to start making beds.”

  “That was my thought. Soon as I get involved in the preparations and know anything, I’ll get word to you.”

  The corners of his mouth turn down. “It would have been better if they’d taken you on as a member, but at least you’re on the inside. Any intel is better than nothing.”

  Annoyed I haven’t more to divulge, I remember what I want to ask. “Prez, there’s a girl there. She’s chained in the fuckin’ cellar. Has been for three months. She’s in a fuck of a state.”

  “They use her?” His eyes become steely.

  “Nah. That’s the strange thing. No one touches her, or even speaks to her. Only take her food twice a day and empty the fuckin’ bucket she has to use.”

  “Who is she? And why is she there?” He takes out his phone and holds it ready.

  “Becca Gardner.” I wait for him
to tap her name into the notes app. “She has a husband named Alexis. Goes by the handle Hawk, because of a shock of white hair over his forehead apparently. He’s gone away for a three-year stint. The Riders are holding her for him.”

  Drum’s eyes go wide. “Three fuckin’ years chained in a cellar?”

  I shrug. “Seems that way.” Her image comes into my head and makes me frown. “She’s not gonna make it, Drum.”

  He rolls his head back on his shoulders. “I’m not fuckin’ surprised. And Hawk? Hawk.” As he repeats it, he looks thoughtful. “Not sure I’ve come across him.”

  “He may come from out of the area. Think they brought her with them from Phoenix.”

  “I’ll get Mouse on it.”

  “Thanks. Mouse back home?”

  “Yeah.” Drummer taps his fingers on the now empty beer bottle. “Something happened while he was away, but he’s not said what it is. Just seems quieter, deeper than normal.”

  Except when he’s finding out our info, Mouse often seems that way. “Hope it’s nothing to worry about.” I change the subject. “I want to get Becca out of there, Drummer. Get her somewhere safe.”

  “You like her?” He grins.

  “I couldn’t say.” My lips purse together briefly. Do I like her? Fuck if I know. Lookin’ like she does at the moment doesn’t exactly encourage a hard-on. “Feel fuckin’ sorry for her.” Yeah, I do. “I don’t want to leave her there, Prez. I’ve had thoughts on how I can help her escape.”

  “She yours?”

  What is it with Drummer and his questions.

  “Fuck no, Prez…”

  “Rock,” he interrupts me. “You want to risk blowin’ your cover for a girl you just met? Take it from me, you wouldn’t do that lightly. You’re going to ask me to take her in as well, aren’t you?”

  I stare at him. “Fuck. Drum, I don’t know. Yeah, she needs somewhere to go, and I couldn’t think of a better place for her. Pretty sure I can get away with helping her out without exposin’ myself. As for the rest?” I pause, my hands go to my head. Why do I want to help her? “I just want to make sure she’s safe,” I finish, lamely.