Possessive_Sons of Chaos MC

by Kathryn Thomas

  I’m nearly done covering myself in the sample-size lotion bottle when I hear the knock on the door. “It’s time, Delilah.” My dad doesn’t wait for my answer before opening the door on me. I take a few steps backward, holding on to the side of the sink for support.

  My father’s face has given away nothing to me, but in the moment of him seeing me like this, all dressed up and ready for a night out, I swear there’s something close to his twisted version of affection or admiration there.

  He sighs heavily, a hand near his mouth, as he exclaims, “You look exactly how I imagined.”

  “Thanks,” I try to say without blushing. I have dreamed of this – of my dad seeing me like this. I don’t want to tell him too much or to show him that I care a rat’s ass about his approval. This is not how it’s supposed to be. No father is supposed to kidnap their grown child, murder a man for her honor, and then use her as some pawn in a scheme. My heart and head wrestle back and forth until the moment passes.

  “Where are we going?” I finally ask, willing to break the silence between us.

  “To meet some people and settle some business. After that, you’re going to have dinner with me and Andre.”

  “Andre? Who the hell is Andre?”

  “My second. I told you – he’s willing to take you as his old lady to secure his position. We’ve settled it all.”

  “I-I’m not going to do that,” I stammer. “I’m not some damsel you need to arrange a marriage for.”

  “Given that you’re knocked up and unwed, I’d say someone’s got to handle your affairs.”

  “You have no idea about my love life. Race is—”

  “I don’t want to hear a fucking word about that bastard, Delilah. Not after tonight.” He throws an arm around me, pushing me forward.

  “Where are you taking me!” I scream this time as I struggle against him. “Please! Just tell me what you are going to do!”

  He doesn’t answer. By the time we reach the door, his men are already waiting for him. The two men take me from him, leading me away towards a black van parked in the connected garage. I bang against the tinted windows, only able to see my father jump on the back of a parked bike. He peels out first, and the van begins to roll backward and then out onto the street. The darkened night sky shades the way as we travel back to where I first came from, towards Devils’ territory.

  It’s a ten-minute drive before the car stops and the driver parks. He steps out of the van, but he doesn’t come for me. I try to unroll the windows, but the most I can do is push them open by the corners. I can only see so much, but I can make out a brown and green field littered with trash.

  On the opposite side of the lot, two headlights from at least two other motorcycles flash a pattern. My father flickers his light back, and the small group from the Roadheads makes their way across the field.

  My eyes dart to the other side, waiting for a sign. My heart races. It thumps a war beat in my ears. I throw my fingers through the crack of the window, pushing myself as close as I can towards the opening. And that’s when I see him.

  Race.

  He strides through the field with his hands in his pockets. His hair is swept back so I can see his firm glare fixated on my father. Three steps behind him are Nicco and Seb, both looking slightly apprehensive but battle-ready.

  It’s Nicco who speaks first. “Where is she, Preacher?”

  “My girl is safe and sound, just like I promised you.”

  “I want to see her!” Race roars through the night, glancing at the van. I am tempted to scream at him, to let him know that I am here, but I don’t want to be the spark that lights the match.

  “You’re not seeing anyone until I’ve got what I’ve been promised.”

  There’s a long pause where everyone stands stone-cold in their spots. The group looks around and then back at a fourth motorcycle parked between the both of them. Nicco calls out something that I can’t quite make out, but the driver turns his lights off and then walks quickly towards the center of the two groups. As the figure grows closer, I begin to notice the tight black jeans, the long T-shirt, and the hair tied in a braid.

  Before anyone can say a word, I scream out into the night, “Mom! No!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Race

  “Where is she?” Shannon asks as I walk through the door of the diner. She nearly drops the plates to the ground when Nicco appears behind me.

  The only response I can muster is, “We need you.”

  Just an hour earlier, we had reached out and got ahold of Preacher. It had definitely not been easy. The detective – the one we had paid a small fortune for – wanted protection from his boss. He had wanted there to be no way for Preacher to determine it was him double-crossing him.

  While I couldn’t make promises, I respected the request. What the detective did give me was an address to an old bar and restaurant in Roadhead territory. She is there, he promised me. He wouldn’t move her – at least, not without him knowing it. But there had been a dead body, and Preacher had a reputation for having very little patience – and for taking blood for no good reason.

  I had a relatively new enforcer drop the message to the door. His instructions were simple. Place it in the hands of a rider and then get the fuck out of there before being killed. Don’t come in riding with colors or patches. Take an unmarked car and stick to the main streets. The note was the most important part. It needed to get into Preacher’s hands as fast as possible.

  Soon after the rider came back, my phone rang.

  “Preacher?” I asked as casually as I could, though my blood boiled at the thought of the bastard on the other line.

  “Race, I presume.”

  “Where is she, Preacher?”

  “You mean my daughter?”

  “I mean my woman,” I corrected him.

  “Your claim means nothing to me. She was my daughter first.”

  “She’s carrying my child, you fucking son of a bitch!” My voice rose with my temperature. I was not about to let this bastard keep me away from what was rightfully mine.

  Preacher, for his part, didn’t seem the least bit phased by me. “Again, that means nothing to me. My grandchild will be raised by real men. Roadhead men.”

  “Like hell he will be.”

  “You know,” he said, “when I joined the Roadheads, I had to prove my worth. My first night with the club, I fought their best fighter. Killed the man in under ten minutes. I didn’t have to kill him; I only had to knock him till he quit. But I beat the shit out of him until he couldn’t breathe just so the rest of the men could see I meant business.”

  “What does that have to do with Delilah, Preacher?”

  “It doesn’t. Not a goddamn thing. It does, however, have everything to do with you.” He paused, almost as if he were thinking to himself, before continuing. “I want to know what you’ve done to get that plush seat you got with the Devils.”

  “Hey, fella,” I said, holding my anger at bay as best I can, “I earned my badges just like you did. But you want to know what the difference between you and me is?”

  “This oughta be good.” He snorted.

  I continue as if he hadn’t interrupted me. “It’s that I at least got some integrity. I respect the codes of the road. You do remember those, right? Like the Number One rule: don’t mess with any man’s claimed lady.”

  At this, Preacher guffawed. “I don’t plan on messing with her. In fact, I’ve kept her comfortable, given her food. Hell, I’ve even taken out a guy who put his hands on her without my permission. She’s been treated like a fucking queen around here. And she will continue to be when I’ve got her linked up with Andre...”

  His voice trailed off before I gave in. “What the hell do you want for her? What do we need to give you?”

  “Give me? I don’t need anything that you have.”

  “This isn’t about the clubs? The territories?”

  “No. This is a family matter – one you managed to stick y
our damn nose in.”

  “You left your family. You left Shannon and Del to fend for themselves. You’re just a deadbeat bastard coming back from the grave.”

  “Shannon is what I’m after, son.”

  “What?” I asked, not understanding. “You have Shannon too?”

  “No. But I’m willing to work out a deal with you.” His voice almost lightened as he explained, “I can’t take Shannon the same way I took Delilah. She’s got the old dogs watching her every move, and I don’t mess with men from my past. So I’m willing to make a deal with you. You get Shannon, bring her to me, and we can talk about me releasing Delilah.”

  “How do I know this ain’t a fucking trap?” I asked, not exactly believing his intention.

  “I’m not going to give you that time to think it through, boy. You’ve got an hour. Get Shannon and meet us in neutral territory – the abandoned lot on Story Street. Two men and Shannon only. Any more and I call it off, and you’ll never see Delilah again.”

  I turned my head towards Nicco. He’d been listening to almost every word but hadn’t interjected. From the look on his face, he was as eager as I was to get shit settled between this maniac and us. One nod gave me the green light.

  “I’ll be there, Preacher.”

  The phone clicked, and the clock started. We had an hour to convince Shannon to confront the devil in her past. I thought it would take more, but as soon as I explained where Del was and that she was pregnant, the game changed. Shannon would do anything to get her away from Preacher, even if it meant sacrificing herself.

  To my surprise, she drops the tray of plates on the countertop of the restaurant, walks off, and returns with a biker helmet and the keys to her own ride. She expertly trails behind us as we cross in and out of Roadhead and Devils’ territory. It was her idea to take the middle ground so she could stand between us when shit went down.

  She was and is right.

  Now, face-to-face with the bastard, her appearance isn’t softening Preacher at all. If anything, the pulsating electricity between our two groups is magnified with her standing in ground zero.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Preacher?” Shannon asks, jumping straight into the action without any hint of fear. I can see where her daughter gets her fire. “You took Delilah? You hunted her down like some punk messing with your business? She was happy and safe where she was!”

  “She was working as a waitress with yuppies and slumming around with shitbag Devils, Shannon! That’s not the life I want for our daughter!”

  “Let me see her!” Shannon cries out, her voice cracking slightly. “I need to know she’s safe.”

  Preacher doesn’t break eye contact with her as he clicks his fingers towards the two goons lurking behind him. One turns and heads towards the black van parked at the edge of the lot. The door opens, and I watch with feet plastered into the ground as I watch Delilah appear. Her hair dangles over her bare shoulders as the man drags her by her stomach towards us. She cries the entire way, clawing out towards us in a dress that clings to her body.

  “Mom! Why? What is going on?” Her eyes turn towards me, pleading as she cries, “Help her! Don’t let her do whatever it is he wants her to do!”

  “Delilah!” Preacher barks out. “Quiet!”

  “Don’t you dare talk to her like that! You’re not her father. You gave that up the minute you walked out on us years ago.” Shannon’s burst is defiant, but it only angers Preacher more.

  “You always were an insubordinate, pushy bitch. No wonder this one wound up knocked up by some trailer trash boy.”

  “Don’t you fucking step up to me, Preacher,” I interject. “Don’t you dare forget who I am.”

  Nicco too takes a big step forward so that he comes level to me. His voice booms over the commotion and chaos of the fighting family. “Give us Delilah. That was the deal. We bring you Shannon, meet you in the neutral zone, and we get the girl.”

  “Race? Why?” Delilah cries. “Don’t give my mom to him… please…”

  “It wasn’t his decision to make, Del,” Shannon says in an attempt to soothe her. “It was mine.” Her voice shakes, and Del’s cries only grow louder as Shannon moves to Preacher. “What do you want from me, Preacher? You want to kill me? Do me in? Whatever it is, don’t do it in front of our daughter.”

  Preacher grabs hold of Del from one of the guards, wrapping her in his arms so that she is forced to nuzzle against his chest. In his hand, I see the faintest glimpse of a silver shank just concealed under his jacket. I motion towards it for Nicco and Seb to see. Nicco makes a play for the back pocket of his jeans as Preacher snickers.

  “This! This is what I want, Shannon!” He moves towards his estranged wife as he continues to shout. “You, Delilah, and me! I want us to be a fucking family together! Do you understand how lonely I’ve been? How it’s taken every ounce of me to not come back home, to see my daughter graduate high school, to provide for my wife? And now you want to keep my damn grandchild away from me? I won’t have it, Shannon! I won’t!”

  He holds the knife to Del’s throat as Shannon lets out an audible gasp. “If I can’t have you… If I can’t have us, I’m not letting anyone claim this family.”

  “Preacher!” I shout, my tolerance dwindling. “This is enough! Let my woman go!”

  “See, Shannon!” He turns to face her as she cries in vain, “This cowardly bastard thinks he has more claim on my flesh and blood than I do!” He sneers at me as he adds, “He ain’t worth shit. A real man wouldn’t have negotiated with me. He would’ve stormed heaven and earth to get his girl back. He couldn’t take care of our daughter if he fucking tr—”

  Before he can finish his sentence, I feel my feet lift off of the ground. My body flies through the air, barreling towards who knows what. I’ve been in knife fights before, and I know what comes next – the tearing of flesh, the screams, the blood. But none of that matters in this second. All I care about is knocking the living shit out of this asshole and winning back my woman.

  I land more on Del than I do on him. I try to soften the blow to her as much as possible by spinning my body away from her and focusing my landing on his knife-holding arm, but she gets enough of it to fall straight to the ground with a horrible thud.

  I cry out her name, “Delilah! Fuck!” But I don’t have enough time to listen to her response. Preacher is already on me, slashing towards my arms and shoulders. The thick gutting blade dives blindly towards my flesh, nailing me near the elbow. The warm drip of blood splattered on my sleeve does nothing to stop me.

  Preacher’s my height; I have maybe an inch or two on him at most. But he’s more sizable than I am, has twice the presence even I do. Old age has made him soft, but soft men make great towers for fights like this. He may not be moving fast, but he’s not moving either as I wind up and land a blow to his side. The most I hear is a gasp of air from deep within him. He laughs as he scores me again, this time at my neck, dangerously close to ending it all.

  “Is that all you got, greenhorn?” he asks, still standing firm. He doesn’t even look phased by the chaos around me. At my jump, Nicco charges at one of his men, and Seb isn’t far behind him. The four of them are tousled in a heap on the ground where all I can make out are the shapes of arms and legs flailing and stabbing at one another.

  I can feel, or at least sense, Delilah still at my feet, curled up in a ball. I shout for Shannon to help, but I can barely get her name out of my mouth before Preacher’s on me again. He slashes at my face again, slicing me right along the cheek and cutting into bone. But this time, I see him coming, and as he raises his arm, I managed to score a brutal knock on his breastbone. His knife falls to the ground at my feet, and I do my best to kick it as far away as I can with the tip of my boot.

  “Now it’s fair, Preacher!”

  “Keep up, kid. If you want to make it around these parts, in the big ole city, you’re gonna have to fight dirty.” He launches his fist towards my broken face, but I duck away. The force
knocks him forward with enough velocity that I can push myself against his chest. He backs away, resetting the fight again.

  I’ve never been much of a fist-on-fist kind of guy. I trained in the boxing gym when I first joined the club. Nicco had promised me it was the best way to get fit and learn some necessary combat skills for my role as an enforcer. He even had me go in the ring with top local fighters to test my skills and speed.

  Since then, I’ve been in fights here and there, and I’ve used these fists more than I care to admit, but those days feel like eternities from now – where I am fighting for something so important that I’d rather die than lose.