Nobody even noticed his intrusion, too caught up in themselves. One of the girls laughed so hard she stumbled forward and spilled most of her drink on the floor, making it so slippery one of her companions needed to rescue her from a fall. Two members of the crew, a couple who clearly couldn’t keep their hands off one another, tried several doors before one budged and they disappeared inside the room, locking it with a final-sounding clang. Elliot stayed behind with the sound thudding from behind the double doors in a strangely muted fashion, as if he had water in his ears and couldn’t hear right.
The corridor stretched both ways from where Elliot stood, and he had to quickly assess which way William’s mansion would have been. Judging by the sickly color of the paint peeling off the walls, Elliot was still far away from the grace of early nineteenth century elegance, still in what was left of the mental institution that the building once housed.
As he started walking, his footsteps resonated between the walls, but it wasn’t like this area was silent anyway. The music still blasted so powerfully his body could sense the rhythm through the floor, and as he walked along the seemingly endless passage, voices came from the sequence of doors on both sides of him.
His heart beat faster when through an open door he saw two naked girls and two guys fooling around on a mattress laid out on the bare floor, too caught up in sex to even notice they were being watched. He swallowed hard and quickly made his way farther along the rows of doors. The hallway was plain, with no frills, like one would expect from a former hospital, but the closer he was to another set of double doors at the very end, the heavier his feet were and the more his stomach twisted.
Curiosity pulled him in, toward the thick, delicious honey that was William Fane’s home hidden away in the ugly guise of the club. Being spotted beyond the parts of the building accessible to the public might mean suffering so many stings he would never recover. And yet he kept walking toward the doors marked with red letters as the entrance to an area restricted only to members of the motorcycle club, because there was no guarantee that he would ever get a chance like this again.
He didn’t have the intention to steal anything, or to spy on the undoubtedly illegal activities of the Kings of Hell. All he wanted was to walk the corridors William once walked and brush his fingers along the walls within which William had lived. Was that really so much to ask? He just wanted a glimpse, nothing more.
Elliot ran the last few paces, urged on by a sense of time passing all-too-quickly, but when he pushed on the doors, they turned out to be locked. Of course.
Elliot groaned and banged his forehead against the painted metal.
The endless thudding of music didn’t help in keeping focused, but as he opened his eyes, his gaze grazed an open door to his right. The room behind it was dark, but in the white glow of the overhead lamps in the hallway Elliot saw that the small space wasn’t furnished. There was trash littering the floor, but the sight of a narrow window across from the door filled Elliot’s heart with hope once more.
He swallowed and looked back, remaining silent to make sure no footsteps were coming his way, and dashed into the room. His hand hit the light switch but nothing happened, and so he was forced to continue moving in the dark. He swore beneath his breath when glass broke under his foot, but fortunately it didn’t go through the sole of his shoe, and after yet another moment of frantic wait in complete silence, he approached the window and pulled up the sash.
Damp wind blew into his face so hard he needed to grab his wig in order to keep it in place. It was the only one he had left after the fiasco during his first visit a month ago, and he simply couldn’t afford to lose it. Trees were dark figures slowly dancing with the howling gusts, and with no illumination on this side of the building, everything melted into the shadow despite the yellowish glow originating somewhere behind the long stretch of the facade within sight.
Elliot crooked his neck to see more when the sharply-scented air pushed him back, causing a draft that made the door behind him slam shut so hard the glass rattled, threatening the sash to fall and snap Elliot’s head off.
His heart rattled, but he would not be discouraged by moody weather. He’d come here with a purpose, and he would do anything in his power to make this one chance count. He switched on the flashlight in his phone and looked down at the muddy ground a whole story below him, then to the left where he spotted an open window of a room located beyond that goddamned metal door.
Air blew straight into his face, choking him for a moment, but the sense of purpose had Elliot scanning his surroundings despite the dangers of his new plan. A ledge ran along the building. Narrow and crumbling at the edges it looked by no means safe, but the adrenaline coursing through Elliot’s veins screamed at him to stop being a coward. No one ever said his path to the truth about William Fane would be an easy one.
He left his cane hidden under a piece of floorboard in the corner, and with his heart in his throat, got one of his legs out through the window, now regretting his choice of footwear. The replicas were custom-made, his pride and joy, but they also featured a large buckle and a one-inch-high heel, which was perfectly comfortable for walking but might not work well for moving along a narrow ledge during a storm. Elliot stayed still for a while and weighed his options, wondering if the wind would prove strong enough to blow him off the facade during the short climb.
In the end, he decided to leave his shoes behind as well. His stomach was in knots as he sat in the window and slid out his legs, touching the ledge with his feet. Dampness instantly soaked through his thin stockings and paralyzed him with cold, but he knew that fortune favored the bold. He would not be stopped by weather and fears William Fane would likely laugh at. Clinging to the window from the outside, he moved carefully toward his target. At least his limbs were long, and with a little bit of luck, he’d be able to hold on to both windows at once.
Even with the shoes off, he was barely able to keep half of his foot on the icy shelf. The wind howled and suddenly blew from down below, tickling Elliot’s heels and pushing up the back of his coat to sneak underneath. A deep chill went straight into his bones, and he desperately held on to the window frame as his entire body shook with the sense of doom.
But his mind was stronger than his body. He would prevail and prove to William that were they to ever meet in another life, Elliot would be worthy of his love. Together, they could hunt down all the nasty people who dared to laugh at them.
Shaken to the core, he risked moving one foot toward the second window.
He’d wanted to take things slow, but a blast of air pushed at his back, his hand slipped, and he stumbled forward, desperately flattening his face against the second window like a bug caught under a piece of paper.
Sticking to the window frame, he slowly dared to lower himself and slid his foot through the open window, desperate to be back on solid ground. A ferocious barking made him lose balance, and it was only by sheer willpower that Elliot managed to hold on.
A massive Rottweiler barged into the room, baring its enormous teeth, which glinted in the dark in high contrast to the animal’s dark coat. A young man in a leather vest was right behind it.
“Nothing’s there, Hound. Calm down!”
For the briefest moment Elliot clung to the hope that the man would somehow overlook him, but then their eyes met just as Elliot was tipping back, torn between falling to his death and having his foot bitten off.
Things happened so fast they became a dark mess in Elliot’s brain, but one moment he was falling to his death, and the other—the blond guy was staring down at him, and the firm presence of a wooden floor beneath Elliot’s back provided all the stability he needed. The lamp overhead was on.
A growl reverberated in Elliot’s ears, startling him so much he instinctively curled up and hid his head, only to realize the sound was coming from beyond the closed door.
Had he fainted?
The guy frowned at him and crossed his arms on his chest. The black leath
er vest he wore meant one thing—Elliot had been caught by one of the bikers.
“You are in deep shit,” the man said and despite likely being barely of drinking age, he pulled Elliot up with ease, only to shove him at the wall.
Searching for a lifeline, Elliot noticed the ‘Prospect’ patch at the front of the guy’s cut. Maybe there was still something to be won here?
“Listen, man,” he tried a more dazed voice. “I’m not sure where I am. I might have taken the wrong pills.”
The prospect snorted, and twisted Elliot’s hands back before cuffing them so quickly and efficiently Elliot’s muddled brain couldn’t keep up. “Pills? Really?”
“I… I mean no harm—”
“I know who you are,” the prospect said and pushed Elliot toward the door. “I was specifically told to look out for someone like you.”
Elliot dreaded a meeting with the Rottweiler outside, but right now the sharp teeth seemed like a walk in the park in comparison with the threat of biker fists. At least when the prospect hauled him out into the corridor, the beastly dog was tied to a pipe and could only bark in fury.
Elliot was now deeply regretting his moment of madness. He should have known there was no way the motorcycle club would risk having random people over without employing an adequate amount of security. “I could just go. I’m sorry for all of this. I think I’m in over my head.”
The prospect pushed him toward the double doors with steel locks that could have guarded a safe of gold, not a biker clubhouse. “You’ll explain yourself to Knight. He’ll enjoy getting to know you better,” he said with a sinister undertone to his voice even as he opened the bolts.
Elliot’s stomach twisted, and he wished he hadn’t stolen that drink because it was coming back up his throat. Last time they met Knight tried to shoot him, and no matter how many dirty fantasies he’d had about the guy, none of the imaginary pleasure mattered in real life. He’d been warned to stay away, and yet here he was, caught red handed.
The cuffs on his wrists were too tight to slip out of, and the guy behind him might have been a prospect, but he clearly knew what he was doing.
The doors opened, and Elliot was back in the hallway full of rooms that only contained mattresses. With his mind in a frenzy, he spotted two women passionately making out by one of the walls. But as the prospect grabbed his shoulder and forced Elliot to walk past the couple, the sense of doom was slowly but surely settling in Elliot’s stomach.
Instead of back to the concert hall, the prospect kicked open a door to a brightly-lit corridor with posters on the walls. He led Elliot through to a room at the end where music combined with laughter and lively conversation. And yet despite the merry atmosphere, each step toward it was making Elliot’s knees softer.
His mind came to a halt when the prospect shoved at his back, making him stumble into a spacious room filled with dark sofas and low tables crowded with cans, bottles, and snacks. Several scantily-clad women accompanied men in cuts decorated with the Kings of Hell MC logo - a grinning skull with a crown on its head.
But out of the group of a dozen people, Elliot’s attention focused on the man with a long mane of hair, who rested his scruffy cheek on the bosom of a pretty redhead. Elliot’s stomach turned, and his legs felt as if they were shackled, but when Knight met his gaze and his carefree smile turned into a stern grimace, Elliot might have puked if he had had anything more than a bit of alcohol earlier.
Knight pushed the girl off his lap, drunk two shots from a tray in the middle of the table, and stood up, rushing through the room. A punch was coming, and Elliot was too afraid to watch anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut and dipped his head between his shoulders, even though he knew it wouldn’t actually help him.
Movement sent Knight’s scent his way, tonight made sharper with liquor and sweeter with some kind of cologne, but as Elliot braced himself for a jaw-breaking strike, no brutality came his way other than the insistent hold of the prospect’s fingers on his shoulder.
“I—I bought a ticket—” he tried weakly, but the prospect cut right into his sentence.
“The ticket’s for the concert. You can’t just sneak in wherever you want!”
“He did what?” The booming voice had Elliot opening his eyes despite the choking fear, just in time to see Beast storm toward him like a bull about to eviscerate him with its horns.
Knight’s hand was hot and firm when it clenched on Elliot’s jaw, forcing him to glance back into the man’s eyes, expressive and sharp despite the liquor on his breath. “What do you think you’re doing, huh? Didn’t I tell you to never come back here?”
“I would like to claim temporary insanity,” Elliot choked out.
One of the other biker burst into a manic laughter. “Christ! He doesn’t even have shoes.”
Beast towered over Elliot, and even Knight, when he stood right next to them. “You don’t have the right to claim shit! You’ve been warned, and still you come back?”
“I just wanted to see Fane’s house,” Elliot said in a tiny voice, looking pleadingly between the two men large enough to eat him whole for breakfast.
Knight’s nostrils widened as he took a slow, laborious breath before glancing up at Beast. “I’ll deal with this,” he said tightly.
Beast’s eyes narrowed, and he pushed his index finger against Elliot’s breastbone so hard he would have fallen back if it weren’t for the prospect holding him in place. “Make sure you teach him a lesson this time,” he said to Knight before nodding at the prospect. “Good job, Jake.”
Elliot hung his head in resignation when Knight let go of his jaw. What had he been thinking? That it would all be fine because he had a ticket? How come his brain became so clouded sometimes that it lost the ability to assess danger?
Knight grabbed him by the neckcloth and pulled as if it were a leash. “If you can’t listen, you’ll have to feel what it means to cross the Kings of Hell.”
Elliot followed because there was nothing left for him to do. He’d gotten so blinded by his need to somehow unite with William Fane that it erased his sense of self-preservation… He should have known this wouldn’t end well, since nothing ever ended well for him. Would he even survive the battering Knight was about to unleash on him? Even if, his body would remain one big bruise and prevent him from working for food and bills.
“Can you believe that guy?” He heard Beast growl to the others before Knight shut the door behind them.
Elliot’s chest clenched when he imagined Knight taking him back to the drunk crowd. He’d lead him onto the stage and unleash the punishment he promised, and the partiers would cheer, eating up Elliot’s humiliation like medieval spectators gathered at the pillory.
But instead of directing him to the large concert room, Knight pushed Elliot through a narrow door and down a flight of steps illuminated by a single lightbulb. The panic button in Elliot’s head was instantly activated, and he looked up at Knight with his eyes wide. At this point, in the labyrinth of corridors, he was way past dreams of dignity.
“Please don’t kill me.”
“Why not?” Knight asked, following Elliot down the narrow passage. He was so close his warm scent overpowered the damp aroma in the air, but with each step Elliot feared a push against his back. Without hands to protect himself from the fall, he’d stumble to the very bottom of the staircase, and the club could call his death an unfortunate incident.
“Because that wouldn’t be fair. I got in a bit over my head. I’ll just leave and never come again,” he said, even though he knew it would be difficult to resist the magnetic pull this place had on him.
“I don’t believe you. I shot at you, and you still came back like a hungry rat,” Knight said and reached to the lock in the door at the bottom. When he opened it, a whiff of cold air pushed into Elliot’s face. It was only when he stepped into the wet leaves that he remembered there were no shoes on his feet. He didn’t dare ask to get them back right now.
“I thought it was fine if
I came to the concert!” Elliot looked around the area, and it seemed to be another back door. Two small paths led from it. One along the walls of the building, another dove into the darkness ahead, toward the menacingly rustling trees.
The moon was high up the sky tonight, framed by puffy, thick clouds. Knight pushed Elliot toward the woods. “Where’s your car?”
Fat drops of cold rain hit Elliot’s face as soon as they were out the door. Of course. Because this night hasn’t been bad enough already. At least he still had all his teeth. Maybe Knight would let him off the hook with a few bruises after all?
“If you uncuff me, I’ll go myself.”
“Ha. In your dreams, Count. I wouldn’t believe you even if you shut down that idiotic YouTube channel to appease me,” Knight said, leading Elliot toward the woods. Despite the ice-cold wetness soaking into Elliot’s stockings, he was glad for the fallen leaves, as they protected him from stones and sticks that would have likely hurt his feet otherwise.
And even though Knight was his potential doom, Elliot still wondered what the man actually thought of him. At the end of the day it was better to be seen as reckless than pathetic.
“It’s outside the property,” Elliot mumbled.
“Good. I’m up for a little walk,” Knight said when they dove between the trees. Darkness instantly became so thick Elliot could barely see what was within an arm’s reach, but Knight navigated the path just fine, as if he knew the way by heart. His arm was shockingly hot on Elliot’s shoulder, streaming warmth all over his body. Clad in only the inexpensive suit of thin fabric, Elliot was already sensing spikes of cold biting at his flesh. His stockings would surely be ruined by the end of this walk of shame.
“So… your interest in your ancestors. It’s not an incest thing, is it?” Elliot had to fight to prevent his teeth from rattling. He frowned, realizing that what he said came out wrong. “I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
Knight exhaled loudly and squeezed Elliot’s shoulder even harder. “You’re completely out of it. How could this even occur to you? Not everyone is jerking off to dead guys.”
My Dark Knight (gay biker romance) (Kings of Hell MC Book 2) Page 4
