Originals Ride: Hellions Motorcycle Club (Hellions Ride Book 8)

by Chelsea Camaron

  “Rhett,” she moans, rocking into my hand. “You’re gonna hit the road late if you don’t stop.”

  “Just giving you something to think about while I’m gone, sweet thang.”

  “You ain’t right,” she gives me back with a smile before she kisses me again.

  Scooping her up, I wrap her legs around my waist as I let her ass rest against the countertop. “Gotta have you one more time.”

  After unzipping my jeans to free my hard cock, I slide inside her as she bites her bottom lip.

  “Love you, Rhett.”

  “Mary Alice, you were made for me.” I move in and out of her as she tightens around me.

  She drops her head to my neck, sucking hard. No doubt, she’s leaving her mark. It only turns me on more as I slam inside her harder and faster.

  “Mine,” she growls, and it sends me over the edge, spilling deep inside her.

  Mary Alice and I have been together forever. The way she wants me drives me to do better, be better, and give her the world. I’m the poor boy from the trailer park whose mom was a whore to get by. She’s the woman from the perfect family behind the white picket fence, and somehow, she fell in love with me.

  I barely made it through high school. I beat the shit out of everyone who looked at me wrong. In fact, when we were ten, that’s how I met Blaine and Tommy. Blaine gave me a stare, and I swung out, only to miss and have Tommy take me down football player style. Blaine pulled him off me. It was two on one, and I wouldn’t back down. Yet, they stopped themselves from beating the shit out of me and, instead, asked me to play kickball after school. We’ve been raising hell together ever since.

  Mary Alice and I got together, and for the first time in my life, I had a family of my own making. Tommy and Blaine are like my brothers. Hell, I practically lived at their houses, spending the night at one or the other’s based on whose parents would let me stay. Mary Alice would pack me a lunch with her own for school to make sure I ate something good.

  When school started to get hard, Mary Alice pushed me to stay in. The hours that girl spent helping me with homework and studying for tests … I promised her, when we graduated, I’d give her a house and provide for us. The only way I could do that was to learn to drive a truck. Over the road, they call it. Well, it pays the bills so my girl can have it easy, but it leaves little time for us to be together.

  I won’t say it doesn’t get lonely sometimes, taking me back to the feelings I had before Tommy, Blaine, and Mary Alice came into my life. It is what it is, though, and we all get by together. We make it work.

  With one last kiss to Mary Alice, I leave her with my come dripping down her legs before I zip up my pants and head out. I’ll make a quick stop at Clive’s to have Tommy and Blaine keep an eye on things for Mary Alice, and then I’m westward bound.

  Fury

  Two weeks go by, and things are smooth. Dia and I found a little trailer on the beach to rent. Her parents didn’t approve of our decision to live together before getting married, so they made her leave everything behind. No problem. She’s mine, and I take care of what’s mine.

  Besides, my parents gave us the sleeper sofa they had for a few years for our bedroom. It’s not the most comfortable bed in the world, but with Dia beside me, it sure feels like I’m sleeping on a cloud. Then a client came in with an old Ford Pinto that needed some work. Rather than wait for the car to get fixed, he sold it to me cheap. My buddy Tommy helped me in our down time to get her tuned up. So now my girl has a ride that I can trust, a job she may not love, but she likes—waiting tables and making pies at the local pizza shop—and a place of our own.

  If I keep working hard, I’ll get her a ring. Then I will make an offer to Clive on the shop, and we will have it all.

  Tommy and I are out back, tossing tires into the tree line, when a rumble catches our attention. More specifically, the distinct tick of a group of Harley Davidson motorcycles. Tommy and I both ride. I have a Sportster, while he has a Duo-Glide, both from the early sixties but both solid bikes.

  Haywood’s Landing is a small town in North Carolina off highway 58 near the coast. There’s not much to the area and especially not too many that ride motorcycles.

  One, two, three, four … The bikes keep piling in, finally stopping at eight. I’m not the kind of man who rattles easily, so the number of men doesn’t intimidate me, though it should.

  After tossing the last two tires into the woods, Tommy and I make our way back to the shop, thinking Clive would be taking on a big job with all these bikes pulling in. We are one of the only shops in the area that work on motorcycles, and although an unauthorized dealer, we do carry the name brand parts and accessories from time to time. We are happy to have any opportunity to show Clive where we can do more.

  This is where Tommy and I see expansion. Clive wants to stick with cars. I want a shop for bikes. Tommy, he sees the potential with bikes, but he wants to restore the classics as well as modify the cars of today to be faster. I swear the man should go work for Winston Cup Racing, but he likes coastal life, and that would require him to move.

  Walking in through the back, we are too comfortable.

  When I hear Clive’s raised voice, I barely pull myself back from storming right in unprepared.

  “Ain’t doin’ shit that has to do with no gangs. Fury, Fuckery—I don’t care what you call yourselves—you got no place in my shop.” He sets the strangers straight as I battle my instincts to rush in.

  “Watch yourself, Clive,” a gruff voice says calmly, too calmly. “We’re a brotherhood. I get we’re in small-town Carolina, but we’re a motorcycle club. We are an organization, and we want to do business with you. We aren’t here to take anything from you, but rather work with you. However, if we have to take, well”—I hear the guy give a half-chuckle—“we will.” There is a pause before the man says, “By any means necessary.”

  My blood runs cold, and roaring fills my ears. Instinctively, I grab the small Beretta Tomcat pistol off the shelf in the stock room where dust covers every inch of space since we don’t often clean. There are seven rounds in the magazine. I double check the gun. One thing about Clive, he likes handguns to always be loaded and in reach. He always told us, “Ain’t been robbed and ain’t about to get robbed.” Well, I’m not about to let Clive down. He has been clear that he doesn’t want to do business with these men, whoever they are, and it’s time they see their way on down the road.

  When I open the door and enter the office area, my heart stops. A man stands in front of Clive, not more than ten feet from him, with a gun aimed right at his chest. There are six other men all dressed in jeans, leather, and motorcycle vests, standing around with stone cold faces. I don’t see the eighth man and assume he’s out front as a lookout. I don’t have enough rounds in this gun to take them all out.

  “This don’t concern you two boys. Go on,” the man wielding the weapon says, waving us away with the barrel of the gun.

  I look at Tommy, who moves closer to the desk where we both know there is a revolver just under the top.

  If I have to use this, I better make every shot count then pray like hell Tommy can cover the other men.

  “You two deaf or dumb?” another man in the back with a beard that goes down to his belly roars. “Go on and get!”

  “Ain’t leavin’ Clive,” I say, deepening my voice and steeling my spine.

  “Loyalty,” the man with the gun says. “I can admire that. See, Clive? You got yourself some good ol’ boys here who understand loyalty. This will do you right good for our business.”

  Clive clenches and unclenches his fists. “I said no.”

  “Thought Cheeks said the old man would be easy to work with?” some guy in the back with his front teeth missing hollers.

  “Don’t you worry about it. Cheeks’ nephew made contact for us. Clive here will cooperate.”

  Nephew … Uncle? Then it hits me.

  Fucking Paul Watson! As soon as I get Clive out of this mess, I’m goin
g to beat the shit out of him.

  Tommy has moved into position behind the desk to easily grab the revolver. With the counter top for both of us to use for cover, we are in the best spots we can be. Clive, however, is not.

  I mentally start sorting out the proximity and ages of the men. This all calculates into their reaction times. Based on Tommy’s location to mine, he has a blind spot to two of them, so I need to hit the main guy then those two in rapid succession.

  Each shot has to count. There will be no second chances today.

  The man with the gun looks at me. “If Clive can’t be reasonable, I’m sure one of these young men will understand that business is business, and our deal is a lucrative one.”

  I look at Tommy who nods at me before he scans the men again, most likely doing his own mental calculations since his rounds are limited, as well.

  “Clive has a good business goin’, fellas,” I try to reason. “We appreciate you stoppin’ in and all, but you know what they say, ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ Clive likes things how they are; it ain’t my place or yours to change that.”

  The man smiles at me with a wicked grin. There is no remorse to be seen, no empathy—nothing. The man in front of me is a dead man on the inside, and if this keeps on, I’m going to make sure he’s dead on the outside, as well.

  “Blaine, Tommy, go on out back and finish those tires. We’re closing up shop for the day,” Clive instructs then steps back. I can tell he’s trying to get to the front counter where he can have cover and possibly reach the desk.

  “We’re good,” I reassure him. “Tires are done. We’ll help see your guests out and lock up,” I stand my ground firmly. I don’t care if I die today. I will do it, not backing down to these assholes. Fear doesn’t hit me; adrenaline keeps me at the ready. I have the love of a good woman, and I’m going home to her tonight, dammit.

  The man raises his gun and slides off the safety as he aims for Clive’s head, stopping him from reaching the safe zone behind the counter. “Think you should reconsider, Clive. You only get one answer.”

  Without giving the man an opportunity, I pull the small Beretta from behind my back and fire.

  One shot.

  One bullet to the head.

  I don’t wait. There is no time to hesitate. I have to make each and every second count.

  I take out the other two who pose a threat to Tommy as he fires shots at the others. They have no cover as Clive moves behind the counter, and we continue to take the men out.

  Four are down solid. Dead.

  Dad always told me it’s not the size of the gun that matters, but where the shot lands. Thank anything that’s good left in this world today that he was right and he taught me about weapons. I’m grateful for all those times he took me hunting or just out shooting as I make all my shots count.

  One man takes a shot to the thigh from Tommy, and he drags himself toward the front door. Clive fires the kill shot, and blood splatters on the walls of the entryway.

  The man from the outside turns and looks inside. Before Clive, Tommy, or I can get a lock on him, he’s running off. The next noise we hear is the sound of his bike starting up and riding off.

  When the men all cease to move and the blood covers the floor, I look at Tommy then Clive. There is a fresh scrape to Clive’s neck where a bullet grazed him from one of the bikers, but he’s breathing and still with us, so that’s all that matters.

  “Damn, Blaine.” Clive shrugs his shoulders, no doubt feeling the weight of what just happened. “One round, one man. You are a fine shot, son.” His eyes go to Tommy. “You did good. I can’t imagine what would have happened if you two hadn’t been here to back me up.”

  Pride fills me, but then I look at the carnage in front of us again. I wait for the remorse. I wait for the guilt. I wait for the shame. Only, it doesn’t come.

  Instead, I only find relief that, after this is done, I get to go home to my woman and still have a job with my boss man breathing to come back to. I don’t know what these men came here for. Honestly, I don’t care. Clive said no, and they felt using force would gain them their request.

  Well, they thought wrong.

  Clive’s been good to me and doesn’t deserve one bit of this. I’ll take his back any day as if he were my own dad. Those men picked the wrong place to try to force their agenda.

  Paul Watson better watch out. If the police don’t lock his ass up when they finish here, I’m going to find him. And when I do, I’m going to beat him so badly his own mother won’t recognize him.

  He will know he need not mess with what’s mine. Fury MC should know, after today, they need not ride into my place, looking to force any deals. No one messes with what matters to me. This shop, Clive, Dia—hell, the whole damn town—it’s all mine.

  Endless Possibilities

  “We’re gonna have to take you boys downtown to get your statements,” an officer says with his hands on his stick and the butt of his gun as if we pose some threat.

  Looking around at the bodies on the floor, I shake my head. The shock is setting in. Taking a life—a man’s life—even when threatened, weighs heavily on my soul. This isn’t like shooting a deer to have meat. In the moment, however, I couldn’t think. I had to eliminate the problem.

  Now it hits me, though.

  I lean over and dry heave as I fight back my need to vomit everywhere.

  Clive claps me on the back. “It’s okay, son.”

  Standing up, I ready myself to go in with the cops as the paramedics take out one man at a time in black bags on their gurney.

  Moving to the desk, I pick up the receiver on the telephone. My fingers shake as I try to focus on turning the numbers on the rotary dial.

  “Zella’s Pizza,” Dia answers.

  “Dia, it’s me.”

  “Blaine, you orderin’ lunch, baby?”

  “No. Something happened today. If Paul comes by there, you stay away from him. After work, you go to Mary Alice’s until I come pick you up.”

  “Time to go,” the cop says to me, and I hate that I can’t explain to her what’s going on.

  “Blaine, you’re scaring me.” I can hear the worry in her voice.

  “Nothing to worry about. Just don’t be alone and don’t go anywhere near the chump. Clive, Tommy, and me gotta ride to the station.”

  “Beaufort, you’re going to Beaufort, not Cape Carteret,” the officer informs me while still giving me the space to talk to my girl. I can respect him for that, even if he looks like he’s ready to jump out of his skin from dealing with me.

  “Why are you going to the jailhouse?” Dia asks bluntly.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong. Some of Paul’s—”

  “Time’s up,” the officer says.

  “Look, I promise I’ll explain everything later. Just promise me no talking to Watson and you’ll go to Mary Alice’s.”

  “I promise, but if you need me to come bail you out, I’ll be there.”

  “I hope not. Love you, Dia.”

  “I love you, Blaine. Whatever is going on, we’ll get through this.”

  With her reassurance, I feel some of the weight lift off me. No matter what anyone says, I wouldn’t change a thing today. Clive was in danger, and I won’t ever turn my back on him when he’s always had mine. The only thing I would change is I would have kicked Paul Watson’s ass the day he came in, playing messenger boy.

  After hanging up the receiver, I head out the front door, unable to avoid stepping in blood. Promptly, the fresh air hits my nostrils, causing me to hunch over and dry heave more.

  “You two get in the back of my patrol car. Clive, we expect you to follow us in your truck.”

  “Understood,” Clive says to the officer. Then to Tommy and me, he says, “Boys, it’s all right.”

  Is it really? Is anything ever going to be all right again? Who were the men we just killed? Did they have families? I know they were bad men, but why were they here?

  All the questions d
ance in my mind as I climb into the back of the Plymouth Enforcer beside Tommy. I want to laugh stupidly at the fact that Clive gets to drive himself in, but Tommy and I have to ride in the cruiser. Funny how everyone always says we’re hell raisers, yet today, we were simply trying to have a good man’s back.

  The ride is a blur as I keep trying to figure out why the men were at Clive’s shop in the first place. His business has always been on the up and up, so why would Paul Watson put him on anyone’s radar?

  I still have no answers when we pull up to the Beaufort courthouse and police station. Our local office is small and more of a hub for the west side of Carteret.

  Immediately, they separate the three of us into different rooms. I’m in a small office with a table, two chairs, and nothing else.

  A different officer comes in and takes a seat across from me with a file in his hand.

  “Not your first time here, Mr. Reklinger.”

  I drop my head. This man can’t be serious right now.

  “Did some dumb shit a few years ago. Joyride was all it was.”

  He opens the folder to pull out a blank piece of paper. Sliding it to me, he unclips a pen from his shirt pocket and tosses it on the table in front of me. “I’m State Bureau of Investigations Agent Westlake. We need your statement of today’s events in writing.”

  “Okay,” I agree. There is no point in arguing. As much as killing is wrong, what other choice was there? I couldn’t let them hurt Clive, and I’m certain they would have killed us all if we didn’t bend to their will or shoot first.

  Leaning over the table, I begin to put into words what happened this afternoon. When I finish, I lay the pen over the paper. I look at the man across from me who has remained emotionless.

  “Do you have any questions for me, Mr. Reklinger?”

  “No,” I answer, knowing better than to ask a cop anything. My words won’t get twisted. He has my statement in writing, so now I just need him to let me go.

  “Well, I have some for you.”