Rev: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Marauders MC)

by Nicole Fox

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s hear it.”

  “You fucked up last night,” I said. “But truthfully, you fucked up before that. You stole one of my employees out from under me.”

  “Stole?” asked Buck, bullshit fake innocence to his voice. “I gave her a better offer. And she took it, like a smart girl oughta.”

  “You didn’t tell her that the offer involved you getting to fuck her,” I said. “Though ‘rape’ might be the more accurate word.”

  Buck snorted and rolled his eyes. “Come on, you mean to tell me that she thought I’d given her that gig out of the kindness of my fucking heart? I just assumed she knew that she’d be, ah, giving me a little overtime when she wasn’t behind the bar or onstage.”

  “I know that’s how you run things in this shithole, Buck, but not everyone’s a piece of fucking garbage.”

  “Damn, Zaney,” he said, affecting a fake hurt tone to his voice. “You really know how to cut deep.”

  He looked around again. I could tell my boys were getting antsy and were ready to put this shithead in his place.

  “So, I know you didn’t just come here to wag your finger at me,” said Buck. “Let’s cut the bullshit and get straight to the point.”

  I was okay with that.

  “Here’s the deal,” I said. “You’re gonna quit poaching employees from me. And you’re gonna quit bothering my clientele and trying to steal them away from me.”

  “That’s the free market, Zaney,” said Buck. “I can’t help it if I offer a service that you don’t.”

  I shot him a hard-as-hell glare, letting him know in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t fucking around in the slightest.

  “Fine, fine,” he said. “I’ll keep my place and yours as far apart as I can. What else?”

  “Roxy,” I said.

  “Of course,” said Buck. “Shoulda known that the little piece of ass was going to get brought up sooner or later.”

  My fists clenched and unclenched. Him talking about Roxy like that was making me see red.

  “You stay the fuck away from her. You’re lucky as shit she’s not pressing charges after the shit you pulled. But if you bother her again, the NYPD’s gonna be the least of your fucking worries. You feel me?”

  Buck narrowed his eyes. It was clear that he wasn’t done with whatever he had in mind for her. And he sure as shit didn’t seem too keen on my bossing him around like this. I knew that a lighter touch might’ve done the job, but after what he’d done to Roxy I was just fine with really laying it the fuck out there for him.

  It was strange what the girl brought out in me—it was a protective instinct that I didn’t know I had. But I put the matter out of my mind as I turned my attention fully back to Buck.

  “So,” I said. “What’s the call? You gonna play ball or what?”

  Buck’s eyes flicked from Marauder to Marauder, as though he were sizing us all up for a fight. Part of me wanted him to do the smart thing, but another wanted him to give me one good goddamn reason to put my fist right into the ugly mug of his.

  “Fine, fine,” he said. “I’ll leave that fucking bitch alone. Girls like her are too much fuckin’ trouble anyway. And it ain’t like pussy like her’s hard to come by.”

  He put his hands on his hips and struck a defiant pose. “Now, you stupid pricks, are we fucking done here? I know you’ve got a skank to get back to.”

  That last comment was directed towards me and Roxy—no doubt about that. As soon as the words left his mouth, I felt my patience hit its limits. Almost as if under its own power, my hand formed into a fist and cut a tight arc through the air, my knuckles aimed right at Buck’s jaw.

  My fist connected with a hard “crack.” Buck’s eyes went wide in shock, as though he hadn’t seriously expected that I’d hit him. He staggered backward, blood streaming down from his mouth.

  “You … you fucking asshole!” he shouted out, his face twisted with rage.

  He wiped the blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand and squared up for a fight. I heard the sound of boots on gravel behind me as my boys got themselves ready to jump in. But I held up my hand, making it clear that this was between me and Buck.

  He rushed towards me and I quickly moved out of the way. Right as he passed I brought my elbow down hard on his back, sending him dropping to the ground. He hit the gravel with a rocky clatter, his body splayed out.

  Buck rolled over as quickly as he could and tensed his body in preparation of getting back up. But I pointed my finger at him, stopping him like I’d just cast some kind of magic spell.

  “You’ll stay the fuck down if you know what’s good for you,” I said. “I can only keep these boys at bay for so long.”

  Buck scanned the rest of the crew and realized how right I was.

  “Fuck you,” he shot out before scrambling to his feet, running back into the bar, and shutting the door behind him.

  A heavy lock clicked shut, and that was that.

  I clenched and unclenched my fist and cracked my neck, the blood pounding in my veins.

  “What you think, boss?” asked Rex. “That seemed … easier than I was thinking it was gonna be.”

  I nodded. “He’s not done with us yet,” I said. “I can feel it.”

  Tension lingered in the air. I knew that this had only just begun.

  Chapter 18

  Roxy

  It was Monday night at Amped, and time for the big first show. Walking up to the bar, I felt like a queen ready to conquer. The feeling faded a bit as soon as I stepped in and saw that people hadn’t exactly been busting down the door to get in. The dozen or so Monday night regulars were there, along with a handful of twenty and thirty-somethings who looked like they just wanted to see some live tunes and didn’t particularly care who was performing them.

  But I didn’t care. I stood at the entrance to Amped, looking over my audience. Small or not, they were mine. And I was going to give them the best damn show of their lives.

  I nodded to Jess as I came in, and he gave me an odd look, one that suggested he wasn’t sure exactly how to act towards me.

  “Uh, everything cool with you and the boss, right?” he asked.

  “I think so,” I said, knowing that was about as clear of an answer as I was capable of. “He did let me play here, after all.”

  “I heard about Buck,” said Mia. “What a piece of fucking shit. Someone needs to tie that fucker down in the middle of Fifth Avenue and make sure to get close and record the ‘squish’ when he finally gets fucking run over.”

  Then she spit into the garbage.

  I smiled, happy that my former coworkers had my back.

  After saying my hellos to the rest of the regulars, I headed over to the stage where the rest of my band was setting up. Vampire Hideaway was a three-piece and we were set up like this: I was the lead woman, handling the guitar and vocals. Amy, a tall, skinny redhead and my best friend from high school, was on bass. Sammy, a long-haired stoner-type handled the drums. He didn’t say much, and sometimes I wondered if he was all there, but he could tear it up on the kit.

  “There she is!” shouted Amy, setting down her bass and throwing her long, thin arms around me. “We were wondering if you were gonna show.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, surprised. “I wouldn’t miss this shit for the world!”

  “I know, but stage fright has a way of making people do crazy things,” she said. “And, um, I overheard from the bartenders what happened with you and that guy from the other bar.”

  “He’s just some fucking prick,” I said. “And I should’ve known better.”

  I glanced towards Sammy, who was finishing setting up his kit.

  “Hey, dude,” I said.

  “’Sup?” he asked from behind his mop of golden curls.

  And I knew that was probably the most I was going to get out of him tonight.

  I scanned the place, looking for Zane. But I didn’t catch sight of him. So I decided to help the guys get r
eady. There were house amps, so I didn’t need to worry about bringing anything other than my guitar.

  When I set my guitar case on the stage and popped it open, the same big smile formed on my face as every other time I was getting ready to play. My guitar was my baby, a vintage ’85 Telecaster, pearl-white with the neck pickup replaced with a humbucker for extra bass and punch. I couldn’t wait to plug my girl in and let this place know just what was up.

  We spent about ten minutes or so finishing up getting ready. Right about the time we were set up and ready to go, Zane emerged from the back office. My heart began to thump in my chest as soon as I laid eyes on him. I pretended to focus on tuning my guitar, but I was secretly watching him, anticipating him coming over to say “hi.”

  He made his rounds and soon approached the stage.

  “So, the famous Vampire Hideaway,” he said, looking us over, his arms crossed. “Finally, we all meet.”

  “Thanks again, Zane,” I said. “We’ll—”

  He held his hand up. “Just put on a good show. That’s thanks enough for me. Break a leg, guys.”

  With that, he left. I glanced over and saw that Amy was watching him with her big blue eyes wide as could be.

  “He’s … um, really hot,” she said.

  “Yeah, good-looking guy,” said Sammy, surprising me by saying anything at all.

  A smirk formed on my face as I decided to keep my evening with Zane a secret from Amy for now.

  “Okay, guys,” I said. “You ready to do this?”

  Sammy nodded from behind the kit, and Amy gave me a quick nod, her huge bass almost as tall and slim as she was.

  I took a deep breath, stepped up to the mic, and spoke.

  “What’s up everyone?” I asked. “We’re Vampire Hideaway, and we got some songs for ya.”

  Right at that moment, something strange happened. A pair of figures stepped in through the front doors, both clad in the same dark clothes. As soon as they stepped into the light, I saw that the reason for their matching outfits was that they were both NYPD. The cops walked up to the bar and spoke to Jess. He pointed towards Zane, a confused look on his face. Then the cops made a beeline for Zane.

  What the hell was going on?

  “Roxy?” hissed Amy. “We’re on!”

  “Um,” I said, shaking my head and turning my attention back to the audience. “This first one’s called ‘River Song!’ Hit it!”

  Sammy clicked his sticks together four times and we were off. I tore through the opening riff, Amy provided the thumping bassline, and Sammy brought his usual skills to the rhythm. But as I sang and played, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going on with Zane and the cops. Glancing in their direction, I saw that they’d stopped talking, their eyes all locked onto me.

  Something was seriously wrong.

  I pounded out the last chord, Amy droned on the final note, and Sammy went crazy on the skins to close out the song. Wild applause broke out among the modest crowd. But the pleased feeling of knowing that we had kicked ass on stage was quickly replaced by fear as the NYPD officers turned from Zane and approached the stage.

  “You Roxy Sinclair?” asked one of them as he looked up to me from below the stage.

  “Uh, yeah?” I said.

  I glanced over at Zane, hoping to read something about the situation by the expression on his face. But instead, his features were stony and still.

  “Mind coming down from the stage?” the other officer asked.

  “Sorry, officer,” I said, “but we’re kind of in the middle of a show.”

  The first officer spoke again.

  “Let me rephrase that: come down from the stage right now, Miss Sinclair.”

  “Rox,” said Amy. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I have no idea!” I shot back over my shoulder.

  “Miss Sinclair,” said the first officer, “this is your last warning. Come down from the stage. Now.”

  My blood felt like ice water in my veins. I knew that there was nothing I could do other than what the officers said. I slipped my guitar over my shoulders and set it down on the stand.

  Then I noticed that the eyes of everyone in the place were locked onto me.

  “Um,” I said, sticking my face in front of the mic, “we’ll be just a minute.”

  Truth be told, I had no clue just how long this was going to take. I hopped off the stage and the officers formed at my sides as soon as my feet hit the floor.

  “Officers,” I said, pleading in my tone. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

  “We’re going to need to have you come down to the station make a statement,” said the first.

  “A statement?” I asked. “About what?”

  It occurred to me then that this was likely about Buck. Had Zane told the cops about what had happened? That didn’t seem like the style of the president of an MC, but it was all I could think of.

  “We’ll tell you when we get to the station,” said the second officer. “But it’s about the rape.”

  Now I knew that this had something to with Buck.

  “But … can’t we just take the statement here?” I asked, a little relief washing over me. “I mean, it was just some asshole from the other bar. I’m happy to answer whatever questions you have so I can finish my set.”

  “No, miss,” said the second officer. “We’re not going to have you answer questions in front of a suspect.”

  Now I was totally confused. Had Buck snuck into the bar?

  “What suspect?”

  “Him, right there,” said the second officer, making a subtle gesture towards Zane.

  I stopped cold in my tracks. I had no idea what the hell was happening.

  “Zane never raped me!” I shot out. “What’s going on here?”

  “Just keep quiet until we can get you to the station.”

  I felt like the walls were closing in on me. The eyes of the bar were still on me, and Zane’s expression had changed from still and blank to one of tightly-controlled anger.

  “This is this last time we’ll ask,” said the first officer. “Are you going to come with us?”

  I had no other choice.

  “Y-yes,” I said. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Good. Right this way.”

  I felt trapped. This had to be some kind of bad dream.

  Chapter 19

  Zane

  I was so fucking furious that I couldn’t even think straight. As I watched the cops lead Roxy out of the bar, all I wanted to do was run up to her shove those assholes out of the way and demand to know just what the hell she was thinking.

  “Suspicion of rape”—that’s what the officers had told me. And though they said that they couldn’t tell me just who’d made the claim, it was as clear as goddamn day as soon as they approached Roxy.

  Sure, we’d been a little drunk when we’d fucked, but it was all consensual—nothing had happened that neither of us hadn’t wanted. And you don’t normally have breakfast with someone after you’ve been raped by them—or so I’d imagined.

  And the look on Roxy’s face when the officers had approached her—she was either in the wrong damn creative field, or she truly had no idea what the hell was going on.

  No, this stank like shit.

  It stank like Buck.

  “Yo, Zane!” shouted out one of the regulars. “We gonna have a show or what?”

  On the stage the remaining members of Roxy’s band stood awkwardly, neither of them sure what to do.

  “Fuck, fuck!” I hissed under my breath.

  I jogged up to the stage.

  “You guys are done for the night,” I said. “Don’t worry about getting paid; you’ll still get what we agreed upon.”

  But the look on the girl’s face made it clear that she wasn’t concerned about money—she was concerned about her friend. And so was I. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that this was some bullshit that Buck had cooked up. It was dirty, deceitful, and under
handed—just his style.

  I needed to figure out just what that asshole had planned. And as I fumed about the subject, I sensed the energy of the crowd become more and more restless. Sure, there were only a couple dozen people here, but the last thing I wanted were pissed-off regulars going around talking about how I couldn’t run a Monday-night show. And then there was the whole issue with the cops.