Disciple: Knights Disciples MC

by Hampton, Sophia

  “Yes, Will. I see the chair,” she said.

  “Now it’s late. I’ve had a lot to eat. I’ve had a little to drink and we’ve been through some adventurous emotional stuff. But be warned, one day, I am going to sit in that chair, you are going to straddle me and take me very deeply inside of you.”

  “Oh, Will,” she mewled, electrified.

  “You’re going to rock us back and forth with your tippy toes and it’s going to be amazing. I don’t know when this is going to happen. If it’s going to be in two days, two hours or right about now but I want you to look at it. Think about it. Think about me. Think about us. Okay?”

  “I am thinking about it now,” she said.

  “Good girl,” he kissed her face. “Okay, that’s all.” He turned about face and climbed the stairs again. As they reached the dining area, he set her down.

  The waiter tried one last sale’s pitch. “Any coffee before you leave?” he asked.

  “No thanks,” Will smiled, and said to her privately, “I think we are ready for bed.”

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  The drive back to the house from the restaurant was a short one. The way Laura understood it, she thought the house would be theirs when they got back. At first it seemed like they were coming up on an ordinary scene but as the lights of the truck grew brighter, it was obvious something was very wrong.

  Will jerked the truck into park and rushed out. “Stay here,” he ordered. She began immediately to disobey him, grabbing for the door handle to get out herself. “I said stay here,” he growled.

  There on the driveway, lined up and some crushed on the asphalt, were the bikes. The bikes that the Knights’ Disciples were supposed to ride at least part of the way home. The weather towards Baltimore might be too cold for riding but they had a plan for all of that. They were supposed to be leaving. But now their bikes were destroyed. And the longer they waited it occurred to Laura, where was everyone?

  Laura got out of the truck. “God damn it!” he cursed for the first time that she could recall. He had certainly not raised his voice with her, not like that. “I said get back in the truck and call the cops!”

  She did what she was told but as she did, she slipped. There was moisture on the ground. She stepped over it and climbed into the truck. As she dialed, whatever she stepped in had a distinct smell and she couldn’t quite place it. She fished around Will’s car and found a napkin and wiped the bottom of her shoes as the emergency operator answered. She realized she didn’t know the address or anything.

  Thank God for close-knit communities where everyone knew everyone else. The emergency operator figured out where they were once she mentioned the Knights’ Disciples. Despite his upset, Laura somehow remained calm. Part of her realized she was in denial, that she had separated from reality. It was not a good sign that Will Shriner, Sergeant at Arms of the Knights’ Disciples, steady rock of a man, was shaken so. The cops were there in no time. She watched as one knocked on her window for her to lower it.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” he asked. “Where’s Will Shriner?”

  Will. She had lost track of him. She saw him just a minute ago. The police officer was now opening her door, which lit up the truck. She hadn’t realized it but she was sort of in a frozen position, holding the napkin in her hand that she had used to wipe off her shoe off. She looked down at the napkin because she could see vividly. Blood.

  “I am going to need you to step out of the car,” said the police officer.

  “Can you help me?” she asked.

  Will came out of the darkness, his face wrenched with fear. “There’s no one here,” he said as if in shock. There were several cops on the scene and they recognized Will at once. They rallied around him. “We both just pulled up right as we called. We were at dinner.”

  “Where was that now, Will?” the cop asked with heavy southern drawl.

  “Poogan’s Porch,” he answered.

  Laura was stunned. There were no words in her mouth or thoughts in her head. As they stepped near the pool of slickness that she had slipped in she shouted, “Don’t! That’s blood! Where’s my brother?” Without any warning, she launched into an attack of hysteria.

  “Listen,” said a detective taking over. “Y’all are going to have to go to a hotel after we clear you. Not sure what’s available at the moment but we’re going to have to tape this off because it’s not looking so good.”

  Will starting punching numbers in his cellphone trying to get someone to answer. “No one’s answering,” his voice was garbled. “I wasn’t here,” he said over and over again.

  “Okay you all get back in the truck and stay put. I am going to have the EMTs come look at you. I am going to get you some paper and a pencil and when you’re ready, I want you to jot down some of those numbers.”

  Laura hung her head in her hands and sobbed as the absolute worst possible truth sunk in. It was looking like her brother and those who tried to help him had met a bad fate. Will Shriner this upset was proof positive enough for her. He called a number, punched a code and told her to be very quiet. He rolled the windows down to listen. And within a few seconds, there was a piercing screech filling the air, and could be heard over the racket of the cops and the EMTs. Will rushed out of the truck towards the sound. Like a linebacker, he swiped past men standing about trying to figure out what had happened.

  There on the ground, lit up from his phone call was someone else’s cell phone. He stood up, the detective on the scene had followed him. Will turned away, obviously overcome with emotion. She could hear him say the phone belonged to Darren. Laura felt the blood drain from her face. That was all she could take. She gave up and gave in. She fainted.

  She felt herself being driven. Will was riding next to her but she was not driving. The Big John of Big John’s Tavern was driving the car. The cops were pulling out. The ambulance was going and from the corner of her eye, Laura could see the cops unwinding police tap around Will’s property.

  “Where we going?” she murmured.

  “To my place,” said Big John.

  The lights were out at the tavern but Big John pulled the truck around the back to the loading area and parked securely. He got out and opened Laura’s door. He lifted her without any preliminaries to the driveway. “Need help?” he asked Will. Will shook his head. He looked positively destroyed.

  “I am only staying for a moment. I am going to help the cops find my guys.”

  “They’ll find them shortly. Let’s go knock back a few in the meantime. Come sit by the fire.”

  Will let the tavern owner walk Laura ahead of him. She turned in time to see him fish out a case from a compartment in the back of his truck seat that he leaned forward. From a cutout in the seat, was a box from which Will drew a gun. Laura pitched forward and began to throw up. This was not happening. The moment she got sick, Will quickly packed away the gun and rushed to her aid. The three of them went into the tavern.

  Big John damped a clean bar cloth and washed Laura’s face. “I am getting us some Jack. It’s for your own good.”

  “I don’t want to lose you,” she said. “I can’t. I know you are suffering but – ” She had no forethought of the words that were coming out of her mouth. She let them spill.

  “Laura Mills,” he said. “Look at me. I don’t want lose you either. You’re mine. I am yours. I love you.”

  “I love you back,” she hugged him, tears streaming from her eyes.

  Big John held a bottle and glasses in his hands. He was so huge he was able to carry everything without a tray. He poured shots. “Drink. Medicinal purposes. Listen. You’re going to get a call any minute. A good call. Good news. Let’s take a deep breath and formulate a strategy.”

  The warmth of the bourbon calmed Laura. “He sounds like you,” she said.

  “We ought to,” said Big John. “We’re friends.”

  “We went to dinner two hours ago,” Will said overcome with emotion. “Where could they be?”

 
As if on cue, Will’s cellphone rang and he answered. “Thank God!” he stood up. Laura and Big John craned, waiting for the report. Will listened and Laura watched his face change. “Okay. Check in with the Charleston Police Chief. I am going to text you his number.” He hung up. He took Laura’s hand in his. Laura didn’t like it already.

  “No,” she said trying to avoid what he was about to say.

  “My guys are in North Carolina. They got the bike ready to go and Lucas went outside to smoke a cigarette. My guys think he went back to the gang…either by choice or by force. But their bikes were destroyed. They saw what was going on and they left through the secret passageway out the back of the beach. They left all their stuff, except their wallets. Most of them don’t have their cellphones. Lucas had Darren’s phone. I guess that’s why it was in the yard.”

  Laura swallowed hard. She lost her mother and father and her brother. She held out her glass. “Little John, how about another round?” she said.

  CHAPTER FORTY TWO

  Luckie’s Tavern was especially quiet. It was the one night of the week when they didn’t have something going on. Laura Mills sat at the end of the bar. The tavern had become her usual pit stop on the way home from work for the past few months…At least she thought it had been a few months. When she stopped to think about it, she got confused. Her detour to the bar had become usual enough that the bartender reserved her seat and it was waiting for her when she walked in. The whole setting was just the tonic Laura needed to take the edge off – to kill the pain, pain she had never dealt with because she had been so busy picking up the pieces.

  With this new habit of a couple of nightly cocktails at Luckie’s, Laura made other changes. She cut her hair in a heavy metal-esque sharp A-line bob. She had taken to wearing black dresses on the short side and black stockings. She hardly had the appearance of the graduate student/well-respected employee of many years/guardian to a kid brother who was lost to a brutal gang.

  Since the day her younger brother vanished off the face of the earth -- and Laura simultaneously blew up the best, most perfect and steamy adult relationship she ever expected to have -- Laura Mills was transformed. She was now deeply entrenched in one of Baltimore's most popular watering holes and now she looked like she totally belonged there. The problem was that no matter how fun and popular the bar was, it started to grow on her. She became a part of it in a way she hadn’t wanted to. She wanted her world to be her, the bartender, and the drinks that kept coming.

  But another regular, a troll, whom Laura recognized since the first day she entered Luckie’s, sat on the stool next to her. Company was not what she wanted. She rolled her eyes and looked the other way.

  “Wow,” he scoffed. “You already have an attitude with me that fast? You could do a lot worse.”

  Laura had done so much better.

  For Will Shriner, Sergeant at Arms of the Knights’ Disciples Motorcycle Club, had literally been her knight in leather and black denim. When the trouble began with her brother, Lucas, and the gangs, Will was there for them. He and the Disciples offered them total protection. He loved her in ways her sweetest dreams could not have matched. No, he taught her, and never let her forget, that she was a beautiful woman. He fought until the bitter end the night her brother disappeared. And she left Will in the dust, hadn’t seen him in forever. And when he probably needed her the most, Laura was sitting at Luckie’s, fending off a troll. The troll was almost right. She didn’t deserve any better. “Bite me,” Laura snarled.

  The trolled stroked her arm. “Ooh, I like that.”

  Laura smacked his hand away.

  The troll chuckled. “I like that even better.”

  They started to tussle. Laura hooked her foot on his bar stool and down he went. He was humiliated. Laura triumphantly took a sip of her drink. She heard the unmistakable click of a switchblade. For a moment, she believed she had gone too far. She gave him a shove with her foot and he bounced away. As the troll continued to come at her, Laura realized no one was jumping in to assist. She thought by now, at least, the bartender would protest. The troll took swipes of the air with his blade. Laura’s instinct was to duck.

  From the side, she could see a big pair of hands yank the troll by the scruff. Like a ghost suddenly appearing, the whir of a man’s fist faintly touched her hair as it sailed to connect with the troll’s jaw. Down he went. Laura looked at him, a mass on the floor, when her cool avenger casually leaned down and plucked the knife from the troll’s grip.

  The place went silent and the crowd scooted back in a perfect circle. There in the center stood the magnificent Will Shriner, Sergeant at Arms of the Knights’ Disciples, dressed in the vest bearing his club’s emblem. His timing was unreal.

  "Help him up, boys," he said to his fellow Disciples.

  Laura was speechless as she stared in the beautiful face of the man she had loved more than anything. His tall form -- broad shoulders and a chiseled chest -- blotted out the scene behind him. She could his cut torso through his tight cotton T-shirt.

  “Laura,” he tipped a phantom hat. He was joined by a handful of other Knights’ Disciples.

  “Hi,” she said replied, her voice raspy. She was emotional and embarrassed to have him see her this way. She sat there, mutely as his eyes took a walk all over her.

  He shook his head. “You just about done with this?” he asked in a collected tone. “You ready to come back and move on. Or is this your moving on?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered lamely.

  “Don’t you?” he asked, his eyes scolding her. “Barkeep?” he called out and pointed to his guys and then to the bar. “Line them up. Maker’s Mark, please.”

  Will and the other Disciples took the seats beside her. The troll stirred and decided to not press his luck. He sulked away.

  “I figure if someone is going to drink and hit on you, it might as well be me,” he said. There was some heat to his voice but mostly he was scolding her. He boldly ran his large hand on her thigh. “Nice,” he said, remarking about her stockings and short dress.

  The bartender set shot glasses in front of the bikers and poured.

  “What? Did I become invisible?” Laura razzed the bartender.

  “No,” Will answered for him, “You’ve been cut off. You are officially on the wagon.” He smirked and tossed back his drink.

  “I am a big girl,” Laura retorted.

  “About 5’2”, last time I checked. And unless you’ve totally forgotten, I checked.” Will rolled up his sleeves. “Wait, I gotta get the look.” He was clearly referring to her new, edgy attire. He mussed his hair, which was already a little disheveled to begin with. The Disciples caught on and did likewise.

  “Okay whatever,” Laura almost smiled.

  Will stood up and pulled out his wallet. “How much do we owe you? Hers included,” he asked the bartender.

  “I am paid up,” Laura replied.

  The bartender put a receipt on the bar and Will pulled out his credit card and a business card. “So,” said Will, “if you see this woman in here again, you call me. I’m done tailing her.”

  “You’ve been tailing me?” Laura’s eyes widened.

  Will leaned in and got nose to nose with her. “You must think I am magic or something. You think I just magically appeared when that guy was about to cut you? You have had enough.”

  Laura rolled her eyes. “You can’t –”

  Will now was up behind her, hovering over her, draping her with this body. He whispered in her ear, “Can and will. This has gone on long enough and you are coming with me.” He fished in her purse.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “You’ve had plenty to drink. You aren’t driving; I am.”

  “You just did a shot of liquor right in front of me,” she protested.

  “It’s also the only booze I’ve had in quite a while whereas you have been pickling yourself in at least a six pack a day. You really want to get into this here and now? Let’s g
o,” he ordered.

  “You're finished here. In fact, your bar hopping days are done,” he announced.

  “Who do you-?"

  Laura's question was cut off, for the tall, handsome, and rather bossy Disciples’ club leader swept into her with a possessive kiss. In front of the entire clientele at Luckie's, he branded her.

  "It seems this is the only language that you understand. I am prepared to speak it.” His voice was low and smooth. “Let's go."