Rip's Baby: Hounds of Hades MC

by Nicole Fox

  I listened to Benji's words, but my focus was on Jace's face as her friend spoke. It went through a range of emotions, all subtle. A tug at her lips here, a lifting of an eyebrow there. She didn't know what to think about us, I could tell. Whatever she'd thought originally that had caused her to try and poison my morning juice, I think she was starting to change that opinion. I'd begun to see it taking root like a stretch of kudzu at my Grandpa's house, digging in and tearing out whatever preconceived notions she had.

  And, for whatever reason, I needed her to change that view. Not just for the information locked up in her head about what happened in that hotel room, but for something else. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I needed her to trust me, no matter how much I currently distrusted her.

  “Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice reasonable as I glanced to Fed, “all we ask is you return us the favor. We need to know, from both you ladies, what the hell happened. We know Sven ran you girls, you told us yourself. But now, come to find out he was working for Volkov Arms, and a member of the Russian mafia.”

  I folded my hands in my lap and leaned in close to Jace, my face close enough to where I could almost smell her, my face inches from hers. “Now, what do you know about this Sven guy? Was he trying to make contact with us on behalf of The Wolf? Or was there something else going on? And who is Tomlin Spears?”

  # # #

  Jace

  Benji and I looked at each other in pure, honest shock. She was surprised because she knew I had a younger brother I'd left behind named Tomlin. I was surprised because Koen knew who the hell he was.

  I didn't know how he knew who my brother was, or that he'd been in that room. Maybe the cops had identified him when they did Sven. I wasn't sure, hadn't really thought about it, even when Koen had mentioned it back at Xavier's. I was more interested in the old man's description of Volkov Arms, and this Aleksey Volkov's ties to the international underworld.

  A man like that, with that much power where entire government agencies bent over backwards to help him out, didn't seem like he'd be answering to a bunch of bikers who'd set up shop on Bourbon Street. But, maybe Sven had changed allegiances? Maybe he'd started working for Koen on the side, in exchange for a bigger piece of the pie?

  “Who was he?” The Boss asked again, coming an inch or two closer to my face.

  My eyes trailed down from his, flickered over that strong jaw, over the slight stubble, and down to a vein in his neck that seemed to throb bigger the more I looked at it.

  Benji nudged me in the shoulder with her elbow, digging it in deep enough that I couldn't ignore her. “Tell him, Jace,” she said, her voice insistent.

  I rolled my eyes and slunk down in my chair, like I was trying to hide from the world. Really, though, I slipped my hand, which was already beneath the table, into the slim pocket of my jeans and found the knife that had been poking me in the thigh since we'd left Xavier Baldwin's house. It was a short little paring knife, kinda cute in its own way, but sharp as all get out. Plenty sharp for what I needed, which was to only nick that big, pulsing vein in The Boss's neck.

  I'd seen two guys get into a knife fight a couple years back. Blades flashing, cutting in the streetlights. One guy had gotten caught right in the jugular. He tried to apply pressure, and the crimson blood had just poured out around his fingers. They called 911 and all, but even in the best of cities an ambulance couldn't have gotten there fast enough to keep him from pumping his life out all over the sidewalk.

  And New Orleans wasn't exactly the best of cities.

  The look on that poor son-of-a-bitch's face, like he knew death was coming for him, was one of purest horror. And I couldn't think of a worse fate for the man responsible for my brother's death.

  Yeah, all it would take would be a little nick of the skin, just deep enough to poke a hole in his neck. Fed would probably kill me, or, even worse, throw me to the gang to be a fucktoy for the rest of my short life, and Benji would be scarred for whatever time she had left.

  But, if Sven Morokov was really working for Koen Baldwin, justice would be done for my poor dead Tommy. And that'd be worth it, I figured.

  His eyes were boring into mine, those crazy blues of his even more intense when they were just inches from my face. I could feel them rummaging around in my head, trying to see what I was going to do next, see whether or not I was going to keep lying to him.

  I wrapped my fingers around the handle and tried to judge how fast Koen would be. From the way he moved, I'd say pretty damned fast. But, the question was, would he be fast enough?

  “Come on, Jace,” Benji urged. “Just tell him already.”

  What would it matter, now, if they knew the truth? “Fine,” I said, exasperated. “Tomlin Spears is . . . was my brother. He showed up at the hotel last night, and Sven shot him in the bathroom because he heard a noise in there. Dunno how Tommy found me, but he did. I knocked the gun out of his hand, I guess, and then I picked it up and shot the Russian motherfucker.” I turned to Benji. “There. Happy?”

  The look on Benji's face was like I'd just drop-kicked a bunny rabbit into a wood-chipper. “Tomlin . . . he was the other guy? Oh, hon, I'm so sorry.”

  I sniffed a little as my eyes tracked back to Koen's face, who was still leaning in to me. I gripped the paring knife in my pocket tighter, steeled my nerves, and got ready.

  “Alright,” he said, nodding.

  This was it. This was my chance.

  “I believe you,” Koen said. “Now, one more question.”

  I shook my head and grimaced as I subtly slid the knife out of my pocket and into my lap. “No,” I said. “I'm the one asking now.”

  Koen wasn't as fast as I gave him credit for. He barely flinched, barely jerked his head back, as my hand shot up and wrapped around his neck and pulled him in like we were long-lost lovers. But, instead of my lips caressing his, the razor-sharp edge of my knife grazed over the skin of his neck.

  “Now,” I said, “was Sven Morokov working for you as an inside man?”

  Chapter Eight

  Koen

  I confess, I think that was when I really realized what I found so attractive about Jace. This girl just didn't give a fuck. Really. There we were, in the seat of my power, with my buddy leveling a gun at her head, and her poor friend looking like she about to cry from pure pants-shitting terror.

  “Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice as smooth and calm as possible despite the fact that I had a blade pressed to my throat. In the wrong spot, mind you, but still in one that would cause me some serious discomfort in the short term. “Hey,” I said again, “it's alright. I'd never even met Sven before in my life.”

  “He had a picture of you on his phone,” Jace said. “Called you The Boss, Koen. Why would he do that if you two had never met?”

  “I don't know,” I said, completely honestly. “I really don't know. If this is some sorta way to get back at the man who killed your brother, I ain't the guy responsible. And you know that.”

  “How can I be so sure?” she said, pressing the flat of the blade into my flesh a little.

  I winced and tensed up. “Okay, how about this. If Sven was my boy, which he wasn't, why would we keep you around, huh?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, Fed shook his head. He didn't like that line of thought, and figured she wouldn't believe me. He still had his gun trained on her, though, and wasn't going to budge even a fraction of an inch. Fed was a good man.

  “So . . . so you could find who really did it,” Jace said.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, a little more sarcastically maybe than I should have. “And that's why I'd take you to go meet my Grandpa, right? So I could tease this information out of you? If we were so awful as to run with Sven's crew, don't you think we'd have been beating you by now, or chopping off bits of you till you told us the truth?”

  I could tell she was thinking from the way those beautiful brown eyes of her shifted around. She was trying to judge how truthful I was being, and whethe
r or not my logic held up. Also, I knew, she was taking the measure of me.

  She was almost there, just sitting on the fence a little bit when it came down to the matter of belief and disbelief. I could tell that, just from her experience with me in the last day, she wanted to believe me. That was good. It meant I might not end up with a knife lodged in my throat.

  But, if I was going to get her to believe me and the truth of the matter, I was going to have to nudge her a little bit. I was going to have to give her everything. Otherwise, none of this made sense.

  “Look,” I said, pausing to lick my lips, “Sven was working for Aleksey Volkov. Fed and I, and the rest of the guys, we ain't got shit to do with them. Sven was probably looking for us. Fed, back me up here.”

  Fed, across the table from me, furrowed his brow and nodded slowly. “He's right, Jace. We don't have any business with Sven, or Aleksy Volkov. Not like that, at least.”

  “What kind of business is it, then?” Jace asked.

  I sighed. “I'll level with you. We've been ripping Aleksey off for months, stealing guns from his trucks and selling them around town and out of state. Apparently, though, now he's looking for us. Well, he was till you put a bullet in his bloodhound.”

  She smiled grimly, a tight, mean little expression. Oddly, I kind of liked it, despite knowing full well how I should have felt about a woman smiling like that as she held a knife to my throat.

  “Fed,” I said, “why don't you put the gun down. Alright?”

  “Koen,” Fed said in a warning, that's-not-a-good-idea voice.

  “Jace, you gonna stab me?” I asked. “Or not? Cause the pearly gates are gonna be there in five seconds, or they're gonna be there in five minutes. For both of us.”

  “Come on, Jace,” Benji said, breaking her silence. “These guys didn't have anything to do with Sven before last night. They weren't responsible.”

  She groaned and lowered the knife. She tossed it on the table as I exhaled a deep breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

  I looked down at the knife, checked the handle. “That Grandpa's?”

  “You really need to keep a better eye on your prisoners,” Jace said.

  I reached up, tentatively checked where the blade's edge had been pressed against the skin of my neck. “Well, you weren't exactly a prisoner.”

  She shrugged and crossed her arms. “Whatever.” She slid down into her seat, a frown on her face. “Now what?”

  “Now nothing,” Fed said. “We move on from Volkov and find a better deal, an easier one. You girls get to go do whatever, or stick around and work if you want. But, we're done.” His eyes shifted from Benji and Jace to me, the looking in his eyes questioning. “Right, Koen?”

  I frowned. He was right. Volkov had gotten pretty dangerous all of a sudden. Either they knew who we were, or had a pretty good guess going. Moving on would be the smart thing to do.

  But, shit, if the idea of that fat shipment coming along wasn't nice. It would be the biggest score yet, a real payday that would set the MC up for a long time. We could even take some time off and lay low with the kind of cash we'd make off a job that big. I mean, come on, military grade weapons? Anyone would give their mom, grandma, wife, and dog for that kind of firepower.

  I shook my head. “Nope, we got that truck coming still. And it's gonna be the haul of the century.”

  Fed shook his head and nearly spit on the floor in disgust. “Come on, Koen,” he said. “There's risks, then there's stupid risks like jumping out a plane without a chute. Then there's this shit!”

  I raised a hand, though, as a plan began to form in the recesses of my brain. “I know, Fed, I get it. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? We got this, man, and I even know how we can throw Volkov off the scent while we do it.”

  “What?” Fed asked.

  “Well, normally something like what I got in mind wouldn't work. But, this time around, we got some help.” I turned to Jace and Benji and gave them my most winning smile. “Don't we, ladies?”

  # # #

  Jace

  Personally, I liked the plan. It was bold, decisive, and definitely not what the real Boss, the Wolf, would be expecting.

  The other two, Benji and Fed, of course thought it was brash and too soon. Which, I suppose was just a little Debbie Downer way of framing my opinion.

  Benji and I were gonna pretend to be teenage runaways, which was pretty easy for us both to pull off. Might say we'd been studying up on that role for a while. Once we got down the rode a little while, we'd dose the guy with some chloroform, knock him out, and set 'em for the steal. When the driver came to, there wouldn't have been any bikers from the Fire and Brimstone MC around, and no one to pin it on. Aleksey, not seeing any major culprit, would move onto hunt down another gang, leaving the F&B MC in the clear.

  Of course, I also liked the plan for another reason: it would put me one step closer to the Wolf, Sven's real boss. Even if Koen wasn't in league with the fucker, and now I knew for sure that he wasn't, Xavier Baldwin had made it clear that Aleksey was untouchable by the cops. He was practically a national fucking treasure, far as they were concerned.

  Figured I could use this heist to my advantage, but I needed someone else in the cab of the truck with me. Otherwise, Koen wouldn't go for the deal. Besides, when it was all said and done, and I was on my way to see Aleksey, Benji would be in the clear with the bikers.

  “Come on, Benji,” I whined, “you've done worse than this.”

  “What?” she nearly shrieked. “I have not!”

  “That one guy up in Shreveport, when you spiked his drink?”

  Benji was a couple years older than me, and had been in the game a little longer, too. She hadn't had as rough of an upbringing as me, though, and was still a little soft in certain parts. But, Benji sure as hell wasn't the pure-as-driven-snow, hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold stereotype she played herself up as.

  One time in Shreveport, a Louisiana city known for its shitty casinos and gambling boats, she'd dosed some guy's drink and took off with all his winnings, all five thousand of 'em, and came south to the city. It was how she'd gotten away from her first pimp and fell in with me.

  She made a face and shook her head. Her little fists were clinched tight in her lap.

  I put my hand on hers, held it tight. “One last job,” I promised, squeezing her hand. “That's it.”

  Her face changed as she finally relented. “Okay,” she sighed out. “But this is it. No more. I just wanna be a bartender from now on.”

  “I know, Benji,” I said. “I know.”

  “So,” Koen said, “you two are in?”

  Across from him, I could tell Fed was fuming. But, he was a good friend to Koen, and knew his place in the organization. If Koen wanted to do a job like this, even if it was crazy and risky, Fed would bend to it. The guys, I guessed, had voted Koen in. It wasn't Fed's place to second guess. It was just his job to make sure the heist went off right.

  Benji and I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, speaking for us both. “Guess we're in.”

  “Great,” Koen said, clapping his hands together before getting up from the table with a big grin on his face. “Let's fucking celebrate, eh?”

  I looked at him with a blank stare. Didn't he realize I'd just tried to slit his throat?

  “What?” he asked, clearly confused.

  “I just tried to fucking kill you, Koen,” I said, pointing to the knife. I nudged the tip of the blade with my finger, sending it spinning in a lazy circle. “Like, five seconds ago.”

  “Meh,” he said, waving it off like it happened every day. Which, for him, maybe that was the truth. “You thought I was responsible for your brother's death. I get it. I'd have done the same thing.” He shrugged. “But, you dropped it, right?”

  I shook my head. Benji shook her head. Fed, even, shook his head.

  “Now who's up for some pool?” he asked.

  Then, he was out the door of the meeting room, with the three of us just watchin
g him as he left. I realized my eyes were fastened to that perfect ass of his in those too-tight Levis. I shook my head.

  I just didn't get this guy. He didn't want sex, but he'd been rock hard yesterday when he was doling out his punishment. He was too smart by half, but he still took crazy risks. He was the president of an outlaw biker gang that made money by stealing from the Russian mob, but his grandfather was a retired FBI agent.

  Somehow, it didn't add up, at least not in a way that I could see.

  Fed sighed and got up to follow his boss, leaving me and Benji alone together.

  “Guess we better join 'em,” Benji squeaked after a moment.

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  The next few hours passed by in a flash. We stayed up top in the clubhouse while the real club bustled below us, but I didn't mind. I was tired of the bar life, even after such a short time in adulthood. It just seemed too damned loud, sometimes, especially when you wanted to be able to hear your thoughts.