Hung (Selected Sinners MC #4)

by Scott Hildreth

  I attempted to stand and the force of his fist against my shoulder knocked me flat onto the floor. My eyes already swollen so severely that I was almost blind, I attempted to gaze around the room and find a way to get away from him. I hoped the few second lull in the beating meant that he was done.

  As I pressed my hands into the floor and tried to stand, something hit my head.

  And everything went dark.

  BISCUIT

  Looking back on my life, I couldn’t say I had ever lived a day that I was depressed. Somehow or another, whatever life tossed my way seemed to roll off of me like water from a duck’s back. Never one to dwell on the bad, I always considered myself fortunate in that I was able to accept life as being nothing more than the system which haphazardly supported my existence.

  Living in a carefree manner allowed me to accept life as being no more than my continued existence on this earth. The clock proceeded to tick regardless of the state of mind I was in, so why not live every day wearing a smile? Incapable of changing my surroundings, and only able to slightly modify what was at my fingertips, I realized early in life I was in charge of my own fate.

  If I exposed myself to very few outsiders, and lived a life of solitude, life was as easy as breathing.

  My exposure to Kat, as much as I regretted nothing I had done, caused me to realize letting people into my life was a risk. With each and every one, I exposed myself to potential harm, pain, and feelings I wasn’t necessarily eager to accept as necessary.

  Surrounded by my brothers, I had always felt safe from harm. We supported each other wholeheartedly, and offered a hand of assistance and a shoulder to lean on whenever it was necessary. If the world were filled only with my brothers and people like them, it would truly be a better place to live.

  “Not a one? You telling me you don’t have a single solitary story to tell?” Toad asked as he leaned back in his chair.

  I glanced at Jack, shifted my eyes toward Axton, and shrugged, “Nope.”

  “You need to see a doctor. Something’s wrong, Brother,” he sighed as he leaned forward.

  I glanced at my untouched bottle of beer, “ATF deal has me all shook up.”

  “I’m telling you, that guy isn’t going to say shit. We’ve got devices in his kid’s backpacks, in their laptops, on his cars, shit…” he paused and took a drink from his bottle of beer.

  “He isn’t going to go anywhere or do anything to risk harming his wife and kids. I’m thinking he regrets ever taking that fucking job. What are your thoughts, Slice,” Toad asked as he tilted his bottle toward Axton.

  “Agreed,” Axton nodded.

  Toad tilted his head toward Jack. Jack nodded his head.

  “I’ll agree,” Jack said.

  “See?” Toad sighed, “Nothing to worry about.”

  “Don’t mean I got a story to tell. I’ll be fine in a couple days,” I said as I reached for my beer.

  The bottle felt warm in my hand. I glanced around the table, realized everyone was almost done with their beers, and that I hadn’t so much as took a sip.

  “You want this?” I asked as I slid my bottle toward Toad.

  “Fuck I’ll drink it,” Jack said.

  “Drink it,” Toad said as he slid the beer toward Jack.

  “My gut hurts,” I said as I pushed myself away from the table.

  We had ridden to Stearman Airfield in Benton, Kansas. An old airfield originally designed to support the few Stearman bi-wing airplanes collectors in the immediate area had, it increased in size over the years, and added a very nice bar alongside the runway. With large glass garage doors lining the entire wall, patrons could sit and watch the airfield regardless of the weather. Today was warm, sunny, and had very little wind, so the doors were open, and the places were flying touch-and-go’s roughly every five minutes. The bar was also one of what had become fewer and fewer places that were biker friendly, always welcoming bikers in the establishment.

  As I sat and stared out onto the runway as a bi-wing place came rolled toward the fueling station, I felt my phone buzzing.

  I leaned rearward in the chair, knowing the only person not in the group was Otis.

  “Any of you fellas heard from the big O?” I asked as I reached into my pocket.

  “Out fucking Sam is all I know. It’s all he does anymore,” Toad shrugged.

  “Ain’t that the truth?” I blurted as I pulled the phone from my pocket.

  I found the similarities between us almost laughable.

  As I stared down at my phone, I realized it wasn’t ringing, but that I’d received a text message. After unlocking my phone and opening the text screen, a message from Kat was highlighted. Nervous, excited, and full of wonder, I pressed the message with my thumb.

  Can I call? I need to talk.

  Without thinking, I pressed my thumb onto the keypad and typed my response.

  Yes.

  I pressed send.

  “Otis?” Toad asked.

  I glanced at him and shook my head, “Nope. Someone wanting to know if they can call.”

  Almost immediately, the phone rang. I stood from my seat and began pacing along the length of the garage door as she spoke, anxious to see what she needed to talk about. Her request when we last spoke was clear.

  No contact whatsoever.

  “Can you talk?” she asked.

  “Sure, what’s going on?” I asked.

  She started crying uncontrollably. After roughly fifteen seconds of worry, she regained her composure and cleared her throat.

  “I’m sorry. Uhhm. Can you come get me? Maybe let me stay with you for a few days or something? I don’t know what else to do,” she stammered.

  Not necessarily wanting to open myself up to even more pain, but feeling I needed to do what I could to provide her whatever it was she needed, I pressed her for a little more information.

  “I thought we weren’t going to have any contact, out of respect to you and your relationship?” I asked.

  After I spoke, I felt like maybe I should have just kept my big mouth shut and said yes. The phone went silent for several seconds, but it seemed like an eternity.

  “He beat me. Bad,” she said.

  My eyes widened and I held the phone at arm’s length and gazed at it for a long minute.

  “Excuse me?” I said as I raised the phone to my ear.

  “He beat me, Dalton. He beat me bad, I’m in pretty bad shape,” she cried.

  “Where are you? I’m on the bike, can you ride?” I asked, trying to remain calm.

  I felt my body temperature increase twenty degrees. As the warmth of my anger washed over my face, I regretted not killing that prick when I had a chance.

  “I’m home. He’s at his place. I’m done Dalton. I promise, I’m done with him. Yeah, I can ride. I look like hell, but I can ride,” she responded.

  I bit my bottom lip so hard as she spoke it should have burst.

  “Be there in twenty,” I said as I released my lip.

  “Kat?” I asked.

  “Yeah?” she responded.

  “You have a gun?” I asked.

  “No. Just a knife,” she said through the obvious tears.

  “I might bring one of the fellas, just in case. Kat, everything’ll be fine, I’ll be there in twenty.”

  “Okay, Dalton. I’ll be here. I love you.”

  “See ya in a few.”

  I pressed the end button and stared at the phone for a few seconds. After inhaling a deep breath and attempting to clear my mind, I turned to face the fellas.

  “Fellas,” I sighed.

  “We got a situation,” I said as I reached for my wallet.

  I tossed a fifty dollar bill on the table and pushed my wallet into my rear pocket.

  “That kid beat Kat. The Marine I beat the shit out of a few weeks back. Sounds like she’s busted up pretty good. I need to go get her, and I don’t know when he’s gonna be back. Who’s rollin’ with me?” I asked.

  “Where’s he stay,”
Big Jack asked, “I’ll take care of him, you go get the girl.”

  I shook my head.

  “Just want some back up, who’s in?” I asked.

  “Following you,” Toad said as he stepped over the short fence that separated the restaurant from the runway.

  “Lead the way,” Big Jack said as he hurdled the fence.

  Axton simply gazed my direction and winked, “Everything happens for a reason, Brother. Lead the way.”

  And lead the way I did.

  KAT

  Kyle had beaten me the night before. Whether I had a concussion, was knocked unconscious, or he had merely beaten me into a state of mental incompetence, I didn’t wake up until the next morning.

  When I woke up he was asleep. While I gathered my things and attempted to get cleaned up, he got up and apologized - blaming his drunkenness for the beating. When I explained I was leaving, he laughed - saying I was sure to return. The look on his face as I walked out the door was one of worry and possibly shame. As I drove from his house in the country to my apartment in Winfield, I decided I never wanted to see him again no matter what the circumstances.

  Having lived in Winfield for just shy of four years, I had seen the Sinners on many occasions. More frequently, I had heard them. Living almost a mile from their clubhouse, I could still hear them when large groups rode in and out of their parking lot. Several times over the years, when I was eating pizza or having a beer at the little bar by the college, the hair on the back of my neck would raise as the sound of them riding by would fill the air. Hearing them several seconds before they appeared did very little to prepare me for the sound of their passing by, nothing on this earth sounds like a dozen Harley-Davidson’s with loud pipes.

  Nothing short of a tornado.

  Or maybe the rapture.

  As the windows of my house began to shake, the sound of the motorcycles in the parking lot became more and more prominent. The unmistakable rumble of them circling the lot and coming to my building provided me with a feeling of relief I had waited almost twelve hours to feel.

  The pounding on the door startled me.

  I peeked through the peephole. Daltons beard filled the viewport.

  I dropped the knife on the floor and opened the door.

  As the door opened, he gasped. He tried to mask it, hide it, and act like he wasn’t startled by my looks, but I noticed. The look on his face did little to disguise how he truly felt. His eyes conveyed love while his face was unmistakably washed with anger.

  “Bad huh?” I asked.

  “Not bad at all,” he lied.

  “You look great, Kat. He ain’t here is he?” he asked as he peered over my shoulder and inhaled a deep breath.

  I shook my head.

  “You’re a shitty liar, I look like ass. And the asshole is probably at home. He took the day off work. I think he’s afraid you’re coming,” I said.

  “Where’s he stay?” he asked through his teeth as he studied my face.

  “Halfway between here and Wichita. Maybe ten minutes away, I don’t know. Up by Udall,” I shrugged.

  He held my chin in his hand. As he lifted his hand slightly and tilted my head back, he fixed his eyes on mine, “Where specifically does he stay, Kat? I need to know.”

  “First house south of Udall on the east side of the street. It’s back away from the road by the river. His name’s on the box, Kyle Coffman,” I responded.

  After a moment, he inhaled a deep breath and glanced upward. As he shifted his eyes downward, he reached out, exhaled, and wrapped his arms around me. While he held me in his arms I felt his body shaking.

  “This’ll never happen again,” he sighed into my ear.

  “Grab anything you think you’ll need,” he said as he released me.

  I lifted my shoulder and patted my purse with my hand, “This is it.”

  “Need me to carry you?” he asked as he looked down the length of the landing nervously.

  “I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine. Hell, he didn’t break my legs - or my pride for that matter,” I said as I stepped in front of him and locked the door.

  We walked down the stairs side by side, with his arm over my shoulder. Even so, I felt slightly nervous and slightly apprehensive.

  As I stepped off the bottom landing and into the parking lot, I gasped at what I saw. Three men, all tattooed, massive, wearing cuts and covered with muscles, stood beside their motorcycles with their arms crossed in front of their chests.

  My protectors.

  Seeing them caused my heart to begin to pound in my chest so hard I felt it in my throat.

  “Don’t wanna take her to my house just yet, Boss. I’m gonna need to see if she can stay in the shop for a bit. I gotta go take care of this,” Dalton said as we stepped past the men and toward his bike.

  Although I attempted not to face the men for no other reason than embarrassment, the one with a few days growth of beard and one hell of an expressed attitude reached out and held my shoulder. He was a massive man with huge arms, a wide chest, and shorter brown hair that was slightly curly.

  “Turn around for me, Kat,” he said.

  His voice sounded like what I would expect a bear to sound like - if a bear could speak. I stopped and reluctantly turned to face him.

  His cut had a patch on it that said President. Knowing what I knew about Avery, I realized this was her boyfriend, Axton – who went by the club name Slice. From what she had shared with me, he was not a man anyone should ever fuck with. As I stood staring down at the parking lot, embarrassed to look up, he lowered his head and gazed up at my face. After a very audible sigh he released my shoulder.

  “Bylaws say she can stay there without your approval if you’ve got your name marked on the board with an “X”, and you don’t. Other than that, she can only stay with your approval if she’s your Ol’ Lady. Didn’t write them, brother, but I’ve got to enforce them,” Axton responded.

  “She’s my Ol’ Lady, mark it on the board if you got to, I don’t give a fuck,” Dalton growled.

  My heart immediately swelled to ten times its size. I swallowed heavily and turned toward Axton. He uncrossed his arms and turned toward the remaining two men. As he exchanged glances with them it was almost as if they were speaking without speaking. The message was clear. Axton had business to take care of and the other two men were agreeing.

  “Fellas,” Axton sighed.

  “You heard the man,” The dark skinned one with jet black hair and a buzz-cut said as he turned toward his bike and nodded his head.

  “Biscuit, you trust me?” the muscular tattooed man asked as he stepped over the seat of his bike.

  He was covered in muscles, tattoos, and looked like he just got out of prison. The patch on his cut said Big Jack. His hair was blonde and cut short, but not as short as the one with black hair.

  “You’re a fuckin’ Sinner, ain’t ya,” Dalton said over his shoulder as he climbed onto his seat.

  “Let me take her to the shop. You fellas go take care of business,” Big Jack said.

  Dalton glanced at me. I shrugged my shoulders.

  “I got to do this, Kat,” Dalton sighed.

  To my rear, it sounded like Axton was growling. The dark skinned man was mumbling audibly. Although I couldn’t make out everything he said I heard portions. It was apparent he was so angry with what Kyle had done to me he was mumbling his intentions under his breath.

  “You’re going to cut off his hands?” I asked Dalton sheepishly, remembering what he had said to Kyle the day he slapped me.

  He shook his head and gazed down at the parking lot.

  As he glanced upward and met my gaze, he responded, “Afraid it ain’t gonna be that simple.”

  I don’t even want to know.

  I nodded my head, “I’ll ride with him. You’re going to come back for me, right?”

  “You’ve got my word,” he said under his breath.

  I pursed my lips, did my best not to start crying, and nodded my head.
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  Dalton raised his hand in the air and spun it in a circle, “Let’s roll!”

  As the three of them sped out of the lot, I was scared, relieved, and a little curious.

  Whatever Kyle received in punishment wouldn’t be enough.

  “He’ll be back, don’t worry. I’m Big Jack,” the man on the motorcycle said as he stepped off and extended his hand.

  “Kat,” I said as I shook his hand.

  “Nothing’ll happen to you from here on out, least not on my watch,” he said in a low rumble.

  “Thank you,” I sighed.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I nodded my head, “Yep.”

  As I got on the bike he tilted his head to the side, “Got a first-aid kit in the shop. While we’re waiting on the fellas, I’ll get you doctored up and looking like new.”

  “Miracle worker?” I asked.

  “According to some,” he chuckled.

  Angels in Selected Sinners cuts is more like it.

  He released the clutch and slowly started to pull out of the lot. As I reached around his mid-section and pressed my shaking hands against his stomach, I began to believe all of the Selected Sinners were just that.

  Protective angels.

  BISCUIT

  Maintaining a clear state of mind during stressful times had always been one of my strengths. Similar to an experienced combat veteran, stepping into a dangerous situation, confrontation, or walking right into the middle of a fight never bothered me. I realized I wasn’t invincible, but I knew I was pretty god damned close. As we rode in Tater’s truck along the back side of the river I wasn’t nervous - and I damned sure wasn’t scared - but a clear state of mind wasn’t something I possessed.

  Toad immediately went into full U.S. Marine mode and directed our approach to the house as if it were a military operation. We followed a line of trees along the south side of the home, as the south side had only one small window – more than likely a bathroom – and was the least probable to be occupied. The three of us were armed with handguns, and Tater remained with the truck along the river. After agreeing we wouldn’t break the doors down unless we had to, Toad low-crawled toward the back door as Axton and I remained crouched along the south side of the house.