Fabio's Remorse (Hell Raiders MC Book 5)

by Aden Lowe

  Samurai and his buddy wolfed down their treat, and took off again as Kellen approached. "Everybody treating you okay?"

  "Yeah, except for the bunch of ol' ladies in the kitchen. They put me to work." I laughed a little. "It's all good, though. I don't mind washing dishes for a breakfast like that."

  Kellen grinned. "It's a good thing. They make us all work for our supper."

  "It's worth it."

  He leaned his elbows on the side of the truck bed, looking at my old bike critically. "You got any plans for this old girl, besides getting her back on the road?"

  I leaned opposite him. "Not really. Don't even know why I bought the damn thing. Waste of gas hauling it around all over."

  "You could settle down, hang around here for a minute."

  "I probably will, at least long enough to get this thing fixed up. Badger and some of the others offered to help out. Then, I don't know, maybe I'll sell it." I ran a finger over the dusty chrome. "Needs a lot of work still."

  Kellen lit a cigarette. "Look, man, I'll quit beating around the bush. We're always on the lookout for good, solid men to become Prospects. We don't know you very well, and you don't know us, but Crank has offered to sponsor you if you're interested in a few weeks."

  I got the feeling this was a big deal. "Prospect, huh? What would I have to do?" I'd already seen some of the hazing they put some of their prospects through at the party last night. I had no intention of doing anything like that.

  "Usually, when somebody thinks they might want to be a Hell Raider, they'll hang around here some, sorta get to know everybody. Eventually, one of the brothers might decide to sponsor them. Then, they spend a year or more as a Prospect, with us getting to know them, deciding if we can trust them, and seeing if they stand under pressure." He took another drag off his smoke. "Eventually, they get put to a vote, and either become patched members, or head on down the road."

  "Since you're being straight with me, I'll just tell you, I don't fetch beers or clean up puke."

  Kellen grunted and stubbed out his cigarette. "Kinda doubted if you would. This ain't exactly the usual, but we already know you can keep your cool when things get hot. If you become a Prospect, you won't get the hazing and shit most of them do. Some of the guys will have to see how far they can push you, of course."

  That I could understand. "Of course. It's human nature. Okay, I'll think about it. Might be nice to stay in one place for a little while."

  We talked a few more minutes, then Kellen went off to take care of something else. The rest of the day passed with plenty of beer, and meeting the rest of the club. It didn't take me long to decide I would at least stay put a few days and see how it went. These guys weren't the white hats, but they weren't bad people either, for the most part, though I was sure they'd done their share of bad things.

  The party finally started dying down around three a.m., and I took Crank up on the offer to bunk in one of the spare rooms since rain threatened and I had no desire to wake up soaked. As I took my bedroll inside, Samurai went everywhere, excited to check out the new digs. I was glad no one objected to him. Lots of people feared big dogs, and he weighed over a hundred and thirty pounds, all solid muscle. All the Hell Raiders seemed cool with him, though. And Cherry, the graying redhead from breakfast, took a serious liking to him, sneaking him treats throughout the evening.

  The bed in the non-descript spare room left a lot to be desired, but at least it was dry and softer than the ground. Without the sounds of the night around me, though, I had to turn on some music on my phone. I'd grown too accustomed to falling asleep with some kind of noise.

  The nightmares held off a little while, and I actually managed several hours' sleep before I woke gasping for air, and dripping sweat. Like always, Samurai shoved his big head into my hand, reminding me where I was. No need to try and sleep more. It wouldn't happen. So I climbed out of bed and pulled on my jeans, let Samurai out into the drizzly morning, and found the shower.

  The hot water practically did me in, after weeks of tepid campground showers. It took a minute to get used to actual hot again. When I did, though, I let the water pound the aches out of my shoulders and neck. By the time I got out and went in search of coffee, the rest of the place was starting to wake up, too.

  Badger came out with his own coffee while I gave Samurai his breakfast kibble. "Have a seat, Fabio." He gestured to one of the chairs that littered the porch.

  I nodded and sat, wondering what the old bird had to say. Samurai gave him a quick glance, wagged, and went back to eating.

  "Kellen said he was going to talk to you about staying around a little while, see if you like it here."

  "Yeah, he mentioned it yesterday." I took a careful sip, keeping my expression bland. Badger might be an old dude, but he was sharp as hell, and I had no doubt he could read me like a book. Still, I'd rather keep some things to myself.

  "You think you'll give it a go?"

  I shrugged. "I'll stick around a few days, see where it goes. No promises. But first time somebody tells me to clean up puke, I'm out."

  He threw his head back and laughed. "Do not blame you there, not one bit. When I was a Prospect, it was a year of pure hell. In some ways, it's a little easier now, but the stakes are higher, too."

  That got my attention. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, back in the day, if I got busted with a few ounces of smoke, or a not-exactly-legal gun, the club could grease a few palms and shit went away. Now, we can handle it within our territory, but runs are often outside, where we don't have the influence." He lit a smoke. "Shit can go sideways in a hurry."

  I took another sip of my coffee, thinking. "Tell me, Badger, if you had it to do over, would you?"

  One shoulder went up in a stiff shrug. "Depends on what I was running from, or running toward."

  "What makes you think I'm running?"

  "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, boy. You got that look in your eye. Demons hot on your tailpipe. Now me, I was running from a tour in Nam that still has me waking up in cold sweats. I didn't have anything to come back to, and the club saved me from the monsters that go bump in the night."

  "Guess I got a few of those same monsters. And a few homegrown ones, too." It would have been so fucking easy, sitting there in the quiet morning, to tell the old man all of it. But I didn't. He had enough shit of his own, without some stranger laying more on, and it was my burden, anyway. So I kept my mouth shut.

  After a while, Crank came out and started giving Badger a hard time about some chick he'd hooked up with at the party. Apparently, the girl was a screamer. When that subject exhausted itself, Crank turned to me.

  "How 'bout you, Fabio? You make any progress getting that ex out of your system?"

  I shook my head. "Nah. Probably should, but I'm not ready to move on, I guess." I had no doubt his advice was right on the mark, but for the time being, I had no real intention of acting on it. Hell, I spent all but the last few months absolutely certain I would never be with another woman. Justine was it, and I knew I wouldn't miss a damn thing.

  Badger nodded. "I heard that. These boys will be like a bunch of nosy old women matchmakers, and sometimes that's all it takes. Other times, just makes matters worse."

  "Bullshit, ol' man, what could be worse than getting no pussy?" Crank leaned on the porch rail, clearly prepared to argue the point.

  "Ha, you'll see one of these days, kid. And the only thing worse than getting no pussy? Getting the wrong pussy." The old man levered stiffly from his chair. "Fucking coffee's too weak. Who the fuck set the pot up, anyway?" He stomped inside, presumably to take care of that problem.

  Crank looked unconvinced, but he tossed the dregs of his coffee over the rail. "Bitchy old codger. What say we get that bike of yours off-loaded and see what she needs?"

  "Sounds like a plan." In truth, I might have agreed to throwing boulders at a rubber wall just to get away from the conversation. But I was itching to really dig into fixing the bike, too.

&nb
sp; I moved my truck around by the small barn that had been converted into a garage/workshop, and we unloaded the bike and Crank started looking it over.

  "Know if it still runs?"

  "Not a clue. It did when I bought it, even if it sounded painful. I haven't even had a chance to get it off the truck and start it up since then."

  "Okay, let's see what we got, then."

  10

  Justine

  As I drove home from work, I took a last minute detour, then parked on a quiet street. For a long time, I sat in the car, trying to keep the tears at bay, without much luck. I only came by one time since the night those men took Caleb from me, and I had no idea why I found myself there now. Before that, even though his folks weren't there anymore, I sometimes drove by and just remembered. It made me feel closer to him, despite the continents between us.

  And now, I found myself parked across from the old three-story Victorian once more. A new family had moved in there since the last time. Caleb's parents were gone; his father from a heart attack right before he graduated, and his mom just sort of faded away after that. He got to come home long enough for her funeral, barely.

  Unable to help myself, I got out and leaned against the old maple tree, trying to keep the tears from drowning me again, and let the rough bark bite through my blouse. I already knew from experience the thin fabric would be ruined, but I didn't care. The sounds of a neighborhood settling in before dinner seemed so familiar. The place never changed in any big way.

  The porch had a fresh coat of paint, and it looked like the swing did, too. Caleb and I held hands for the first time on that porch swing, and the first time he kissed me was there, too. His parents had been just inside, with the TV turned low, probably so they could hear us, but it didn't matter. Looking back, I was sure they knew exactly what we were doing, even if we thought we were getting by with something.

  A breeze stirred and the movement of the oak branches in the side yard caught my eye. Caleb used to tell me that tree stood the test of time, and we would, too. We gave each other our virginity under the spreading limbs and vowed to stand strong together. Our lives had been perfect.

  All the way up until he decided he had to go to war, like all the men in his family had. There for a while, I actually considered breaking things off with him over it. But I realized that was just part of who Caleb was. He took responsibility and stood up for what was right. I couldn't ask him to be anyone else. So I held back my tears and waved him off when he went to Basic.

  Afterward, driving his mom back home, I had to comfort her as she wept for her son. She kept saying she wouldn't live long enough to see him again. No matter how I felt inside, I had to be strong for him. So I told her he would come home before we knew it, and life would be perfect again. I even almost believed it.

  Back then, before that night, even after his mom passed away, I could sit in the overgrown grass and read his letters, and for a few moments, have him again. Sometimes it was so real I could practically feel his fingers running through my hair, or his stubble against my neck. The scent of his dad's pipe tobacco always warned us of his presence, and to keep our hands to ourselves. When I sat there reading, a hint of that smell always teased at my senses, almost letting me go back in time.

  After that night, I wrote him for the last time, and came here one last time to burn all his cards and notes, everything I'd saved from us. It nearly killed me, but I did it, because I had to, for him. The flames had consumed the paper and pressed flowers, photos, everything, in the stone barbecue pit Caleb built with his dad. It seemed like a fitting end to us, even if the smoke drifting up through the grate did torment me with memories. During the warmer months, after his parents went in for the night, we would always sit there and watch the fire until it went out, and plan our future.

  "Hey, lady, you okay?" Bright blue eyes stared up at me out of a tiny face smeared with what I hoped was chocolate.

  I wiped my eyes and tried for a laugh. "Yeah, I'm good. Just remembering things."

  He stood there a moment, studying me, and scuffed his toe in the grass. "My momma do that, too, when her's 'membering. I don't know why you do that, if 'membering makes you cry. I don't like to cry. You like to cry?"

  I couldn't help it. Laughter burst past the tears. "You know what? I think you're a very smart boy."

  He flashed a bright grin. "Yep, I am. Momma say so all the time. I'm gonna be four."

  "Four, hmmm? That's a very wise age." Time to get going before the what-ifs hit and I scared this sweet child. "I have to go now. Thank you for talking me out of remembering."

  "You welcomed." He took off, skipping down the sidewalk.

  I stood there a few seconds longer, while the scent of cherry pipe tobacco seemed to waft just out of reach. Self-preservation forced me to get in the car and drive away before more memories could engulf me. If I lingered, I would start wondering if Caleb would have started smoking his dad's pipe when he got older, and what our children would have looked like.

  Away from the past, I could force myself to wonder, instead, how many women he made love to, or if he'd found someone special yet. Of course he had. Caleb was a good man. Any woman would immediately realize her luck in finding him and latch on tight. I took comfort in the familiar patterns of my grief, and managed to calm myself.

  At home, I used the remote to open and close the garage door, like always, and waited inside my locked car until Sam and Hudson came through from the kitchen to let me know everything was okay. Yes, in some ways, fear kept me prisoner far more effectively than any walls or bars could. But fear kept me safe, too.

  The dogs greeted me with their usual quiet enthusiasm, eager for the treats they knew waited on the shelf by the car door. I tried not to spoil them, but I needed to make sure they always came to me as soon as the garage door closed, so they got the treats every single time. For other training, rewards came only occasionally once they had the behavior down pat. This one thing, though, was too important for them to be unsure of the benefit.

  Inside, after I checked to be sure everything stayed secure in my absence, I sat on the couch for a few minutes, then turned the TV on to try and find some distraction. If I didn't get my mind off the past, and my fears, and soon, I would go to pieces.

  Several times since that night, I had nearly killed myself. It would be so easy to give up, let the terror and bitterness all go, and finally find some peace. Some stubborn streak, or maybe sado-masochism, forced me to continue on, though. For the billionth time, I wondered what kept me going, and how much more I would have to endure.

  The phone call Saturday caused me to question everything. The man had called me 'Teach'. That meant he knew where I worked. The stupid Board of Education website would give him anything he needed to find me. My photo was there, my school, my work email, and my first and last names. With that information, anyone with a brain could find me.

  And I had no doubts as to my assailant's intelligence. He possessed the cunning of a predator, and the ability to terrorize his prey. Now that he had my phone number, he wouldn't stop. Men like him got off on the fear they generated in others, and he knew exactly how much he terrified me.

  The local news came on, and a headline scrolling at the bottom of the screen caught my attention. I turned the volume up. The anchor came on, wearing her serious expression, the one they reserved for the worst news.

  "In a press conference today, Pike County Sheriff George Gormann advised the public to be especially alert. Four women have been beaten and raped during home invasion robberies in the past eleven days."

  The male co-anchor took over. "According the Sheriff Gormann, the suspects struck as lone females entered their homes after dark. He says all women should be especially careful when approaching their door at all times." The woman started speaking again, giving phone numbers people should call if they saw anything suspicious.

  I sat there, numb. I wasn't the only one. They were doing it again, hurting other women the same way they did
me, and now they were killing them. My stomach churned suddenly, and I bolted for the bathroom just in time. I vomited until my chest ached and my stomach felt as if it had turned inside out. I felt sorry for those other women, and jealous at the same time. At least they didn't have to live, cowering in fear all the time.

  The blessed numbness subsided, and I felt their hands all over me again, felt them inside me, felt them tearing my heart out all over again. Shivering, I stripped and climbed into the shower and turned the water as hot as it would go. I stayed there, sobbing in the corner, until the water ran cold and the shivers returned.

  By the time I climbed into my bed, guilt hit. If I reported when they hurt me, would they have been caught? Would it have prevented them from hurting those other women? Could I have saved them?

  Sleep refused to come that night, and when my alarm went off, I climbed out of bed, stiff and sore, and exhausted. Until now, work had been my only solace, my only safe place, because I didn't think they could find me there. I'd been a fool to think I might have a haven where they couldn't reach me.

  11

  Fabio

  The time as a Hell Raiders Prospect passed fairly quickly for me. Kellen stayed true to his word that I wouldn't get the kind of hazing some did. For the most part, bringing up the rear on runs was about the worst of it. A couple of the newer members gave me shit at first, but the others set it right. They were only treating me the way they had been, so I didn't make a big deal out of it.

  When Kellen and Crank told me they were bringing my status as a Prospect to a vote, my heart sank right through the floor. Asking all the other Hell Raiders to consider me a brother seemed like a cross between salvation and damnation. They could either save me by agreeing to place that kind of trust in me, or damn me by refusing.

  The bastards left me to cool my heels in the living room while they decided my fate. I felt about like a prisoner on death row waiting for an eleventh hour phone call from some suit in an office to let me live a little longer. At that point, all I could do was pray, and try to remember if any of them had anything to really hold against me.