DAX: Southside Skulls Motorcycle Club (Southside Skulls MC Romance Book 1)

by Jessie Cooke

  “I need you to remember how many secrets I’ve kept for you over the years.”

  “Shit. What do you want, Angel?”

  “Swear to me on Mom’s grave you won’t tell Kyle or anyone at all what I’m about to ask you to do for me.”

  “Angel…”

  “Swear.”

  “Fine. I swear. Now what?”

  “I need you to find out everything you can about Bobby Stack’s family, mainly his brother Frank.”

  “Who is…the guy that got Dad shot?”

  “Yeah. I need the information fast, especially what you know about his brother Frank, who lives in New Hampshire.”

  “What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Angel?”

  “Please, David, just do this for me…and one more thing…”

  “What’s that?”

  “You can’t do it on the server at work.”

  “Shit! Why not?”

  “Just trust me.” She didn’t want David being questioned down the road when that body was found. She was already putting him in a bad spot, asking him to do it for her.

  “Fine. I’ll get back to you.”

  “Soon.”

  He didn’t answer that. He ended the call and Angel was once again left with her thoughts as she kept her eyes trained on the van about five car lengths in front of her. Angel saw the “Welcome to Vermont” sign and suddenly realized she’d driven for the past hour or so in a complete fog. She just couldn’t get that image of Dax’s face out of her head. This entire time as she’d been falling in love with him, that was the one thing she used to justify it…he wasn’t a killer. Now she no longer had that. Now she’d have to turn these tapes over to the FBI and watch Dax be taken to prison, for life. She wished so badly that she knew what that was about. Would it matter? Would knowing that Bobby’s brother “had it coming,” for one reason or other, make it justifiable in her mind? Would it erase the memory of that hard, cold look in the blue eyes she loved so much?

  She followed them to a cute little Victorian house in Vermont, right near the U.S./Canadian border. They didn’t spend a lot of time at the house; they just parked their bikes and van in a big barnlike structure out back and they all piled into an SUV with Canadian plates. They had left Symone with the woman in New Hampshire…and the dead body…but Angel didn’t want to think about that again until she had to. So, eight men piled into the SUV: Dax, Handsome, Clay, Pablo, Nolan, and three prospects. Angel debated going down to the legal crossing as she waited for them to cross the open one on Church Avenue. She saw all their heads disappear, except for the prospect who was driving. She looked up at the camera attached to the pole and, once again telling herself that she’d deal with consequences later, she drove across. She was in a country where she had no jurisdiction, carrying a weapon she had no legal right to carry in Canada, and chasing a murderer that she was in love with. David was right. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

  “Hey, Dax, you alright?” Dax looked up from the lawn chair he was sitting in next to the crackling fire. Handsome was looking down at him. He reached for the other chair and pulled it up alongside Dax. He waited until Dax finally said:

  “Yeah, I’m good.” From where he sat he could barely hear the low rumble of the loud music and voices coming from inside the clubhouse where they were bedding down for the night. There was a little bar attached to it and that’s where the party was happening. Dax had been in anything but a party mood by the time they’d gotten back after their search. He saw the bonfire, grabbed himself a beer, and for the past half an hour, he’d been enjoying his solitude, and then Handsome came looking for him.

  “Everyone was asking where you went.”

  “I’m right here. I just needed to breathe for a minute.”

  “They won’t ever trace that piece of shit to you. By the time Aggie dies and that property is sold, he’ll be nothing but dust.”

  Dax nodded. “I’m not worried about that.” He hadn’t been thinking about the man he’d shot that afternoon, at least not at that moment.

  “You’ve been awfully subdued, sitting here by yourself while everyone else is partying it up in there.”

  After they made it to Canada and Dax’s meeting with the president of their Quebec chapter, they had gone from place to place until the sun went down, asking questions about Hawk and the rest of the Sinners. They were places that the Quebec chapter had been told “bikers” were hanging around, but bikers with no colors. It must be killing Hawk that he can’t show off who he is, Dax thought, but thankfully he still has a big mouth. They’d gotten some good leads to follow up but they had called it a night because Dax wanted the advantage of both surprise and daylight when they found them. They were staying at the “Frenchies’” clubhouse, as they referred to their Quebec chapter.

  “I’m just…I’m tired, Hand.”

  “Tired? I can tell those assholes in there to keep it down if you need to get some rest.”

  “No. Not that kind of tired. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of having all this responsibility. I’m tired of everyone coming to me when there’s a problem and expecting me to fix it…and I’m tired of fixing it and feeling like shit about what I have to do…I want more than this, Hand.”

  Handsome was looking at him like he had grown another head. Dax loved his club. He loved his brothers and their families, and he’d proven once again that very day that he’d do anything for them. He was the one person that Handsome and everyone else would have never suspected would want to leave the club, and Dax knew that. “Is this about your old lady?” Handsome asked him.

  “I guess, some. But it’s not like it’s something she’s asking or pressuring me to do,” he said. “This shit is just between you and me, okay?”

  “You know it,” Handsome said.

  “I think I’d like to have a regular life with her. She’s not like these other women that hang around the club, Hand. I know the girls all have their jobs and everything now, and we’re not just keeping the dumb ones around for the sake of a mouth or a pussy to come in any longer, but these are still women that mostly grew up in the culture or recovering addicts that wandered in with nowhere else to go. Angel’s not like that. I get the feeling that she’s not really going to be happy in the long run, without some stability…a house, kids, a man with a real job.”

  Handsome started to laugh but stopped when he saw the look on Dax’s face. “I’m sorry, Dax, but really? What would you do?”

  “I know how to do more than ride a bike and shoot a gun, you know? I’ve kept that ranch running for the past fifteen years. I’ve helped build most of the buildings on it with my own hands. We’ve done all the plumbing and electrical work, tiling, painting…hell, I could build a fucking house from the ground up.”

  Handsome nodded. “Okay, point taken. But a contractor, or a farmer? I’m not judging, buddy, but please think hard about this before you jump into it. There is nothing wrong with being a contractor or a farmer, but can you even imagine how boring that would be on a day-to-day basis? Man, you and I were raised on adrenaline. Even when we were kids, we were always doing something for that next rush. How are you going to live without that?”

  “Angel gives me an adrenaline rush.”

  “Man, you have it bad. You’re in love with this chick, aren’t you?”

  “Quit calling her ‘this chick.’ Her name is Angel. Use it.”

  “Sorry,” Handsome said again. “Dax, since I’m the only one in this club with the balls to say this to your face, I’m just gonna say it. What do you really know about her? I mean, really? Before you do this, please at least have her checked out. Put one of Nathan’s investigators on her for a week. Have them record her conversations and see where she goes during the day when you’re not with her. You have to do at least that much, man, before you give up your whole lifestyle for this…for Angel.”

  Dax wasn’t pissed. He knew if the shoe were on the other foot that he’d be giving Handsome the same advice. He wanted to
believe that everything Angel told him about herself was the God’s honest truth, but his gut told him different. He still believed that she might have had something to do with that whole fiasco in transporting the coins. But despite all of that, he was beyond being able to picture his life without her. “I guess you’re right. It’ll put everyone’s mind at ease. I’m going to talk to her again first, though, and give her another chance to tell me the whole truth. I do love her, Hand, and I want to trust her.”

  “I hope you know that all I wish for you is the best, man. I hope it turns out that she’s exactly who she says she is. But just in case, brother, you might want to start thinking about what you will do if you find out that she isn’t.”

  37

  Angel was exhausted, but now that she lay in the bed in the motel room in Quebec, she couldn’t shut off her brain. Her thoughts were all over the place, but mostly on Dax and those dead blue eyes. She finally pushed back the covers and went over and got the little video recorder. She hadn’t watched the tape yet. Part of her never wanted to see it and the other part of her knew that she had to watch it. She had to know for sure who and what she was thinking of giving her life up for. She had heard what happened, and she’d seen the aftermath, but she hadn’t watched Dax pull the trigger. That part of her brain was still suffered from magical thinking.

  She sat down at the desk against the wall and switched on the light. With a heavy sigh, she hit play on the recorder. She watched it from the beginning, so it took several minutes to get to the part with Dax. As soon as she heard the soon-to-be-dead man say, “What the fuck am I supposed to do with all of that C4?” she paused it. Her hands were shaking. She’d seen people shot on the streets before, by cops or snipers, but she’d never seen anyone killed in cold blood. And especially, she’d never seen anyone she loved do something like that. But maybe it wasn’t cold blood. There was that whole thing Symone had said about the man’s being a pervert. It sure hadn’t seemed like she was just making things up at the time. Angel was about to push the button to unpause the video when her phone rang. She nearly jumped out of her skin. She went over and got it, and another tiny little tickle of hope filled her chest. It was David.

  “Hey, David, what did you find out?”

  “Hello to you to, little sister. I’m fine, thank you. My day was busy, hectic even, but because this was for you, I’m still up at this ungodly hour even though I have to report back to the station by six a.m. tomorrow morning.”

  “Hello, David. I’m sorry if I put undue stress on you, and I appreciate you doing this even though I know you probably had a million other things to do. Okay?”

  “Better. Alright, this Bobby Stacks character has been in and out of trouble since he was…”

  “What did you find out about the brother?”

  “Do you mind letting me do this my way? Trust me, okay?”

  She sighed. “Okay.”

  “So Bobby was first arrested at the tender young age of eleven years old for stabbing a classmate with a butter knife.”

  “Jesus, eleven?”

  “Yep. He was sent to the Manson Youth Facility where he spent three years with some badass little dudes. I’d be willing to bet he made some friends for life in there and learned how to do some good shit. So, he was fourteen when he got out. He went back home to his abusive, alcoholic mother, who had given birth to another lucky little boy while Bobby was locked up. This little boy was called Frank. The next year, Bobby knocked up his girlfriend. She had the kid and put it up for adoption. Two years after that, he knocked up another girl who had a kid. That one was a little boy and tragically, that boy died in a drowning accident when he was two. By that time Bobby was an adult and had already done time for boosting cars and petty theft, stuff like that. While he was visiting the correctional institution, he met a young man by the name of Dax Marshall. Dax had a father, Doc, who ran a motorcycle club and needed recruits. I think you know that story.”

  “David, please.” Her brother’s love of banter was more than annoying at times like this.

  “You’re such a grouch. Okay, so little brother Frank was just about five years old when Bobby joined the MC. One day Bobby went home to see him and found him all beaten up. His mother was passed out on the couch. The mother’s boyfriend was also there, high as a kite, and there was evidence, or so that’s the story, that this man molested the brother. Bobby went ballistic, killed the dude, and threatened to kill his mother before the cops got there. This time he was looking at murder, but Doc had a soft spot for Bobby and he used some of the club’s ill-gotten gains to hire Bobby a really good attorney. This attorney couldn’t get him out of the charges, but by having the judge consider the abuse both boys had endured and the fact that after being examined it turned out Frank had been molested, Bobby was only given ten years. He did seven and when he got out, he was twenty-five and little brother was eleven. Doc put Mom through rehab, and from that point until recently, I don’t have much on Frank. He kept his nose clean, at least in public. He and his wife even raised Bobby’s girl for about five years while Bobby was locked up.”

  “When was that?”

  “Let’s see…it would have been from the time she was seven to about twelve. Anyways, about two years ago there was a complaint filed with Children’s Services alleging that Frank was molesting one of his neighbor’s daughters.”

  “How old was she?”

  “Eight.”

  Shit. Frank was a pervert. He molested Symone and that’s why Dax killed him. “What happened to the ‘allegation?’”

  “The kid recanted and there was no physical evidence. The neighbors moved away.”

  “Does he have any kids of his own?”

  “Thankfully, no.”

  “Good. Thank you, David.”

  “You gonna tell me now what this is all about?”

  “No. But I love you.”

  “Can I live with you? Mickey and Sam are driving me crazy! Their hygiene went from questionable to practically nonexistent, and Kyle is mad all the time…”

  “I’m sorry, David. You poor thing. You know if I could say yes, I would. But here’s an idea: why not get your own place?”

  “I don’t want to be completely alone, just with someone that bathes and smiles every so often.”

  She laughed. “Mickey’s always smiling.”

  “I think that’s because he’s touched in the head. And, he doesn’t bathe, so there you go.”

  “Sammy is just as bad, huh?”

  “Yep.” Angel hadn’t spent much time with Sam since they’d been home. She’d been too busy. Sam was the quiet one of the family, content to stay in the shadows until someone had time for him.

  “Maybe they’ll go out on the next boat…?”

  “They signed up for the one that leaves in April. Next April, Angel!” It was barely May. Angel stifled a laugh as David said, “I’ll be touched in the head by then.”

  “All I can say is that I’d start looking for an apartment if I were you. Thank you, David. You helped me out a lot today.”

  “No problem. Love you, sis.”

  “I love you too.” Angel ended the call and looked at the video recorder that was still on the desk, paused on the part where Dax was about to raise the gun. Was what he did legal? No. But did he deserve to go to prison for the rest of his life over killing a pedophile? No. Angel hovered her finger over the delete icon before realizing that she needed to hear what happened from Dax, or Symone, before she could, in good conscience, cover up a murder. She was happy to at least discover that she still had some sort of a conscience. She shut off the camera, tucked it back into her bag, and got back into bed. When she finally fell asleep it was to the vision of Dax’s dark blue eyes…and they were warm.

  The house sat at the end of a long strip of dilapidated houses. It was forest green and the windows, what was left of them, had all been painted black. The wooden front porch was rotting away and the weeds in the front yard were four feet tall in places. There was n
o sign of activity inside, but four big Harleys sat parked up against what was left of a chain-link fence in the front. Dax sat in the SUV at the end of the street, looking at the house and wondering what the best way to approach it would be. Hawk wasn’t going to just lie down and die, no matter how low he’d sunk. Dax had known the old fool since he was a kid, and even when Hawk and Doc were best friends, Dax had never liked him. He thought about killing him the same way he would about stepping on a cockroach. It was one less nasty creature the world needed. He’d be doing mankind a favor. But first, he needed to understand what happened to Max, and getting Hawk to give up that information was going to be tricky.

  “Dax?” Hand and Clay approached the SUV from the passenger side, announcing themselves so they didn’t get their heads blown off. Dax had the .44 Magnum in his lap and Pablo was sitting in the back holding one of the assault rifles. Nolan was standing alongside the SUV on the driver’s side with a big gun of his own. They were finally at war. It was what Hawk had always wanted and what Dax spent years trying to avoid. No matter what happened, Hawk had won that one.

  “Yeah, the doors are unlocked.” The front passenger door was pulled open and then the back. Both men slid into the SUV and closed their doors. The sun was just beginning to come up, but Dax had all the lights off on the dark-colored vehicle.

  “It was dark, but we counted six guys inside. It looked like they were all asleep or passed out. The smell of Mary Jane is strong up in there,” Clay said, waving a hand in front of his face. “You know I like my weed, but man, even I have a few limits.”

  “Entrances?” Dax asked. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk or humor.

  “Looks like the windows are probably painted shut,” Handsome said. “The back door is locked tight, looks like it has at least three deadbolts on it. There’s a door that goes from the garage into the house also. I was able to get in the garage because the door is broken, but the door that leads inside is locked tight too.”