I grabbed a beer from the glass cooler, took it to the head, and finished it in near one gulp.
“Jesus, man. What’s gotten into you?” Shane asked, “And what the fuck was that shit about bad tacos?”
I shook my head at him and grabbed another beer. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to get fucked up. It’d been years since I felt as out of control as I did right now.
I grabbed another beer and slammed that one back too. Shane’s eyes were boring into me. I finished that beer and said, “Need to fight. Any of you fuckers got balls enough to spar with me?” I took off my shirt. The Bleeding Scars MC tattoo, with the words written across my back and a Celtic cross with a motorcycle handlebar going through it to make the cross, covered my back. Every man in the room had the same tattoo, except the hang-arounds and the prospects that were always just here.
I grabbed a cigarette, lit it, and rolled my neck.
“I’ll fight you,” Shane pulled his shirt off too and headed to the ring. Yes, we had an actual boxing ring.
“Figures you’d be the only one with balls,” I mumbled.
“Nah, I’m just the only one who doesn't give a fuck what crawled up your ass. I’ll still lay you out.”
I laughed and shook my head, “Keep dreaming.”
We rounded each other in the ring. Our men flanked all sides of the ropes. Ace, the other original member who barely ever spoke, sat in the corner of the room silently observing. Ace was a Marine. His hair was dark and was always cut short. He was a big motherfucker. He always wore his vest, and the only time I’d ever seen him without a shirt, he was covered in scars. He kept his story close to him, not really ever letting anyone in. I knew, Shane knew, but no one else did. He pulled smoke into his lungs, and gave a subtle shake of his head. I know my brothers didn’t understand the turmoil going through my heart right now, but it was clear that I needed to expunge my rage.
Shane bounced on his heels and held his fist high, elbows in, protecting his ribs. I waited. I always waited, never striking first. It was more fun for me that way. Shane threw a jab, clipping my chin. I smirked and the motherfucker smirked back. A three punch combo to his ribs, then a head butt to my nose. It stunned me for a moment, and he was able to get another hit in. I ducked his next blow, then released my fury. He was waiting for me to explode. That quick fucker dodged half my hits. I swung-- he took it. He swung-- I savored it. I needed the blow. Physical pain took away everything else. All I could feel was the bite of his throws, and that was better than the ache in my gut.
I split his lip. He cut my eye. I wasn't even trying to win.
“Enough,” Ace shouted. The entire room turned to look at him, our fight forgotten. He nodded his head toward one of the backrooms, and Shane and I left the ring, neither of us in pristine condition. Men handed us our cuts as we passed by.
We walked into a room that was filled with tools. Some in working condition and some not, but the room had become a catch all for anything that needed a place.
“He’s not even trying, Shane,” Ace said closing the door behind us. It was like we were being called to the principal’s office.
“Right here, motherfucker. Right here.”
“You’re being stupid,” Ace said calmly. He was always so fucking calm.
“Nah, he’s got something to work out. Better he works it out in the ring, then make some stupid fucked up decision.” Shane tore a smoke from his jeans and his lighter from his vest. He lit his smoke, and continued to flip open and close the Zippo.
“Stop talking about me like I’m not in the room. I’m fine.”
“Really? You don’t seem fine,” Shane’s blew his smoke at me.
“If I wanted a bitch, I’d call your mother.”
He flipped me off and Ace shook his head.
“You know what? Fuck this. I need to ride.” I started to walk out of the room when Ace put his hand on my shoulder.
“Then, we ride.”
I didn't glance back. I threw my leg over my bike and rode east. Nine of my brothers were with me, with Ace to my right and Shane on my left. We took the highway until there was no more highway. There was no more of anything. It was just me and my thoughts, and the road. My mind tried to make sense of everything that happened tonight, and I decided on one thing. It didn’t matter if she thought she was Enrico’s, or if she was a druggie. For all I knew, that piece of shit made her that way. What I did know is that none of that really mattered. The only thing that mattered was that she was safe and I knew where she was. I wasn't going to let her slip away again. If I had to dry her ass out and hide her from the fucker I would. Deep down, she was still my Mouse, and I realized earlier I’d reacted in rage. What I should’ve done was waited until her shift was over, and taken her home with me. I shouldn't have called her a whore, and I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I didn't know what lead her to that stage. I was just so angry.
It was well past dark. My hands cramped a little. We rode so long that eventually the roar of the pipes behind me started to lessen, as little by little, my brothers dropped off.
Hues of pink, orange and purple started to fill the sky, and I knew it was time to turn back. I had a plan. I decided I was going to find out where she lived, and I was going to figure out her shit whether she liked it or not.
Only Ace and Shane were left with me. We pulled into a gas station. The open sign was half lit, and it almost looked abandoned except for the twentyish kid headbanging to metal inside the store. I grabbed a pack of smokes and paid. The kid looked up at me like I was a fucking God when he saw my MC vest.
“Are you, like, in a real MC?”
I glared.
“Have you met Jax Teller? That dude is so cool. You kind of look like him, only your way fucking bigger.”
I glared again, then an idea struck me. “Kid, you ever seen a real MC before?” Considering we were in the middle of nowhere I wasn't sure that he would have.
“Only Sons! That shit was dope, but I hated how Teller went out.”
“I’ll tell you what, kid. You want to be an insider for me? Do something real special for the club?”
“Are you kidding me? That’d be rock ‘n roll.” He moved his thumbs to his two middle fingers and made the traditional rock n roll sign then banged his head like Beavis and Butthead. This kid was never getting laid.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Joshua.”
“Well, Joshua. I’ll tell you what. If you ever see any big bad bikers with a different cut on than ours, you text me.”
“You want me to like give you intel? That’s so rad, dude!” I leaned into him and grabbed his orange and white striped standard issued shirt fisting it. The kid’s face became even paler than it was.
“Don’t fuck with me. You cross me and...,” I took my finger and ran it across my throat pretending to slit it. The kid’s shaking knees rattled the counter.
“I...I...I,”
“Spit it out, kid.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now, tell no one of this meeting.”
His voice shook as he asked, “How will I reach you?”
I smirked, and pulled from my wallet one of the shop’s cards and left it on the counter, then turned and walked out. The door creaked as it closed behind me.
“What the fuck was that in there?” Shane asked as he flicked his smoke towards the road, the red glow sparking in different directions as it collided with the ground.
I smirked, “A little Sons hero worship, that’s all.”
Ace shook his head. He was always getting the Sons reference.
“So, what’s the plan?” Shane asked, knowing I finally had my head on straight.
“That dancer from last night, the one in the cat suit? That’s my Charlie. She was all kinds of fucked up when I talked to her last night, and I totally lost my shit. Plus, she has ties to Enrico and that makes me insane. I went in blazing. I was beyond pissed. Said things.” I shook my head in disgust with myself. �
�Shane, need you to get her address from the club.” His hand was already on his phone texting as I asked.
“What else?” Ace questioned.
“Need you guys to have my back, once we get to her place. Make sure none of Enrico’s guys are around. I don’t want to fuck anything up with him, but I need to see her.”
Ace put his hand on my shoulder and nodded while Shane started his bike and yelled, “Let’s ride.”
Chapter Nine-Gunner
The apartment was in a shit neighborhood. Even shittier than that was the lack of any type of security at the large brick building. I spotted two guys dealing and a tweaker near a large green dumpster. Trash lined the fenced in parking lot that was wide open for anyone to come in and jack your car. No way were we leaving our bikes unattended. Ace gave a nod with his head to say he was staying, and that Shane and I should go. So far, there had been no sign of Enrico, or his men.
The entryway had a few broken mailboxes hanging open. I double-checked to make sure the apartment number Shane was given matched up. Paint peeled from the walls. It made me want to get a lead check just standing there.
“What a dump,” Shane murmured under his breath. We walked to the elevator. Our motorcycle boots echoed with loud thumps down the deserted hall. Out of service. Shouldn't even be surprised. The stairway door was propped open, and a giant sign that hung on the door read, DO NOT PISS IN THE STAIRWELL.
“Christ,” I mumbled when I took a whiff of the rank air.
We reached our desired floor. The stairwell door slammed behind us making a loud bang as we stomped down the hallway. The walls were too thin in this place. A door at the end of the hall sprung open and I heard a kid shout, “It’s her, Mrs. Warner. It has to be.” A kid raced out of an apartment wearing Ninja Turtle pajamas. His sandy blonde hair hung over his face.
A woman yelled, “Gun, get your butt back in this apartment.”
I froze and swore, “The fuck?”
The kid looked up at me. His eyes connected with mine. The air left my lungs, and I dropped to my knees. It was like looking in the damn mirror. He was me, only a version of me from eighteen years earlier.
“You okay, mister?” The boy asked and my heart thumped.
“Did she call you Gun?” I asked and the older black woman halted her steps.
“Yeah, that’s my name. I’m Gunner. Gunner Reed. Do you know where my mom is?”
“Boy,” the woman called in a warning tone.
Shane sucked in a breath. I wanted to cry out in agony and in joy. I had a son. I had a fucking son, with my name. I had a son that I’d missed years of his life with. I had a son, living and breathing, a few hours away from me.
“Holy shit,” Shane muttered.
“Gun, you get back here, boy. That ain't your Momma. I don't know where she is, but she’ll be here.”
“I ain't his momma, but my name’s Gunner Reed.”
I couldn't read the woman. She seemed apprehensive, where Gunner looked shocked. “But, that’s my name,” he said searching my face.
“Yeah, kid. Your momma named you after your daddy.”
“But, I don't have a dad.”
“Yeah, you do. I just didn't know about you until right now. Why don't we go on into your apartment and wait for that mom of yours.” I had so many questions for her.
Mrs, Warner, the woman who apparently babysat my kid while his mom was out whoring, still wasn't sure. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Gun.”
I flashed her a look, then pulled out my ID showing her my name. “Look, I saw Charlie for the first time in eight years last night, and this is the first time I’m finding out that we got a kid. Swear to you, don't even know the kid, but I’d lay my life down for him.”
What more could she say to my more than honest declaration?
“She should’ve been home last night. I have to get to work, anyways. Here’s the key to her place. It’s not like her to not be here. You take care of that boy.”
I unlocked the apartment door and held it open as my son walked under my arm and into his space. Shane followed behind me. I took in the place. Clean. A blue and white afghan hung over the back of a brown suede couch. In front of that, there was a coffee table with a stack of coloring books and crayons on it. There was a TV with an X-box and a stack of games to the side. On the walls, there were a few pictures of Gunner and Charlie. Gunner was younger in the pictures. There were also several pictures of dinosaurs in bright green and blue crayons that were taped up amongst the frames.
Seeing her with him as a toddler made a place in my heart ache. My heart, which I just now realized, was fragmented. I could see the puzzle pieces, Gun, Charlie and me, but we were a bunch of square pegs trying to fit into round holes.
I eyed her apartment again, then Gun broke my silence.
“So, you’re really my dad?”
I ruffled the kid’s hair, “Yep, you look identical to me. Your mom gave you my name and everything.”
“Where you been then?” He was a little defensive, and I couldn’t blame him. I actually liked that he wasn’t afraid to speak up and ask. He was gutsy. Here he was with two large bikers he never met before in his apartment, and he was questioning me like I owed him answers, and boy did I ever. I wished I had more to give him, though.
“I gotta tell you, kid. I briefly saw your mom last night for the first time since I was eighteen. I lost touch with her, and then when I could, I tried to find her. Searched for a long time. Had no idea she was here, and no idea that you were born. Swear to you, I’d known, you’d both have been with me for a long time.”
He nodded his head at me like he got it. I had to find out what my kid had seen and how much Enrico was in their life. I also had this twisting feeling in my gut,because Charlie wasn’t home yet. It didn’t feel like it was Gun’s normal.
Shane sat on the sofa. I imagined it was to try to make himself look less intimidating. His long legs stretched out wide taking in my interaction with my son. My Son.
“So, do you know where Mom is?”
“Nah, kid. She ever not come home like this?”
He shook his head, then walked into the tiny kitchen, pulled up a stool and climbed up on the counter grabbing himself a bowl. I watched in fascination as he opened another cupboard and grabbed a box of cereal, poured it into the bowl, then opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. He was so young, but so independent. God, he reminded me of me. He poured the milk into the cereal and then he grinned, “I love Fruity Pebbles. Want some?”
“Fruity pebbles are the shit! I’ll take a bowl.” Shane said from the couch. The kid gave him a chin lift and said, “Help yourself.” This kid was seriously cool. Shane grabbed a bowl, then sat back down, and put cartoons on.
I took a minute to look around more closely. I opened the first door in the hallway. It was a small bathroom with a rubber ducky shower curtain and a lime green rug. There was a hamper half-filled with dirty laundry, a few towels were haphazardly hung over a towel rack. I opened the medicine cabinet. Tampons, toothpaste, deodorant, but nothing that gave me any cause for concern. It was normal. I was expecting to find a bunch of pill bottles, but sometimes junkies are clever.
I moved to the bedroom. A black comforter with small yellow stitched flowers covered the bed and a blue, silk robe laid across the end of the bed. I couldn't help it. I grabbed it and brought it up to my face. I imagined her silky, soft skin coming out of a shower. How her large, round breasts must’ve pressed against the silk and how it would’ve cinched at the waist then flowed over her supple ass and hips.
Shaking my head, I set it down and continued going through her things. I didn't care if she would be pissed. She’d left our kid, and wasn't here. I needed some clues as to how bad she was. I searched through her drawers, and then under the bed. I found a lock box, and thought I’d hit the jackpot, after breaking the flimsy lock, I found thousands of dollars. What in the actual fuck? Enrico must be supplying her drugs? Or maybe she just wasn't that bad yet, b
ut where in the hell was she?
Nothing in her apartment told me much about anything. I had no idea where she was, and as time ticked by, I became more and more worried. Shane called the strip joint and was told she left with Enrico last night, and that she was three sheets to the wind.
We waited for a few hours. I called in a favor. Someone came by with a truck and trailer for my bike. There was no way I was leaving Gunner here. In those couple of hours, I played video games with Gunner and got to know him. Damn, the kid was cool.
“Kid, not sure when your Mom is going to be back, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here. I want you to pack a bag. Bring plenty of your toys and whatever else you want. I got a truck downstairs.
“But, what if I’m not here when she gets home? She’ll be so worried.” He was unsure, so I got down to his level and tried the best I could.
“How about we wait until your neighbor gets home, and we leave all my info for your Mom to call me, okay?”
He considered this for a few minutes and asked, “Can I bring my Xbox?”
“You don't need to. I have one. But why don’t you bring your games?”
“Yeah, okay. Are you really sure we should leave?”
I put my hand on Gunner’s shoulder, “Yeah, kid. We’ll find her, though. Promise.”
Chapter Ten Charlie
I was gagging. I had no air. I had no breath. Something was being shoved down my throat. Vomit was threatening to come up, the acidic bile burned my esophagus. Just when I thought I’d pass back out again from lack of oxygen, it let up. I regained consciousness, but had no idea where I was, or what was happening. My eyes squinted open, the bright lights hurt. Then, it was happening again, only this time I knew what it was.
Black slacks came at me, and I realized what I was being gagged with. A hard cock hit my lips. I refused to open my mouth and was met with a hard slap to my cheek, and my nose being squeezed shut. After a minute, I had no choice, but to gasp for air.
Cut Wide Open (A Bleeding Scars MC Book 1) Page 7
