Thrash (Rebel Riders MC Book 1)
Page 12
“She can be interested all she wants, there’s no way in hell I’m taking her back. If she wants to suck on something, I’ve got a pistol she can wrap her lips around.”
“You seem pretty set on this Reaper chick. Why?”
“Might be. Maybe I’ve found one I might actually want as my old lady someday.”
More than maybe. I want Alice as my old lady, once things settle down and any threat from the Reaper’s Sons is long gone. I’ve never felt this way about a woman before, it’s new and strange, but it’s a damn nice feeling, and there’s no way in hell I’m giving it up.
“Jesus, Thrash, have you fucking lost it? You’re going to ruin this truce and get a whole mess of blood on your hands, all for some pussy?”
“It’s more than that, Bull. Though the pussy’s fucking nice, too.”
“Look, I don’t want to hear it. I’m glad we had this chat, Thrash, it makes me feel a lot better about what I told Chastity to do.”
My eyes narrow and I look over at Bull in alarm. Chastity’s the sheriff’s daughter. Fucking her was a mistake, one that I wish I could take back a hundred times over. I do not like the tone in Bull’s voice right now.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“She’s going to have her dad, Sheriff Bowles, take an interest in your Reaper bitch.”
He takes an arrogant sip of coffee after he says it. It makes my fists curl in rage. I hate where I can see this is heading. It’s another obstacle between Alice and me, another obstacle in the execution of my plan of ripping off the Reaper’s Sons and knocking those bitches back into the gutter where they belong.
And just when things between Alice and I were starting to work.
“What do you mean?” I say, warily.
“He’s going to give her a message. From me. From the club. To keep away from the Rebel Riders — especially you — and keep her head down. We need to take her out of play, Thrash. We’re not going to have you starting shit. Especially when the Reaper’s Sons are hosting the fucking mayor’s party tomorrow.”
It’s probably not the wisest idea for me to deck my club VP, especially since Bull earned his nickname by because he is built like a literal brick shithouse, but the son of a bitch is doing everything he can to tear apart the plans I’ve worked so carefully to put together.
Alice is mine.
I deliver that message with my knuckles right to his face. A solid right to the jaw that sends his head snapping.
It hardly moves him. Not that I was intending to fight it out with him, if I had been, I would’ve done more than just punch him. Bull’s a beast with a brain — it’s why he’s our damn VP. He shakes his head clear and shrugs off my punch like it’s nothing.
“I’m giving you that one, Thrash. No more,” he says.
“Why are you supporting Hawk’s shit? Why are you standing aside while the Reaper’s Sons fucking run circles around us? You know they’re not going to be content just letting us do our thing, they’re going to come for us, and the more we sit around with our hands on our flaccid cocks, the worse it’s going to get.”
He throws his hands up. “It isn’t my fucking call, Thrash. I get where you’re coming from, I do, but right now the truce is the more important thing. We’ll deal with the shit with the Reaper’s Sons if that even fucking happens. But in the meantime, the more you act like a fucking idiot, the more you keep digging yourself a deeper hole. You need to get your shit in order.”
I calmly look at him while I think about ripping his throat out.
Forget about the Reaper’s Sons and their drug business, him and Hawk stepping into my personal business is a bridge too fucking far. And doing it by sending Chastity and her father after the woman I care about?
I snap.
“Do you even understand what you’ve fucking done? Sending Chastity and her fucking sheriff father after Alice like that? They’re not just going to give her a message. I’ll be lucky if Chastity doesn’t put a bullet in her head and leave her in the woods for the black bears and coyotes to pick apart.”
“All the more reason for you to stay in line. But you fuck up, and I’ll put a bullet in her myself.”
He downs the last of his coffee, wincing slightly as he finishes the last of the lukewarm, whiskey-laced beverage. I stay there, fuming, soaking in his threat and trying to figure out my next move.
I don’t give a shit about what Hawk and Bull are threatening, there’s no way in hell I’m going to allow them to treat Alice like that.
There’s too much riding on it. There’s our relationship, and there’s the cash that Hammer’s holding on to for the Reaper’s Sons drug business.
I wait for Bull to leave before I head back to the cabin, where my bike is parked. I’ve chosen my path. I won’t be staying in line.
I think about what she means to me, about how she and her family have given me something that I didn’t even know I was missing, and how, whether I’ve planned on it or not, I’ve come to respect who she is and what she brings to the table. All that from a woman who introduced herself to me by telling me she doesn’t give a shit about the gun in my hand… and then macing me with fucking salsa.
No way in hell I’m losing her.
One way or another, I’m going to get to her.
Even if I have to face down my own club to do it.
Chapter Twenty
Alice
The day before the party flies by faster than I thought possible.
The bar is a cyclone of activity. Though there’s not as much drinking as usual, there’s more than preparation work for the event that I am kept busier than I would’ve thought possible. I spend half the day doing cleaning and setup work, checking the tap lines for all the beer kegs, and making sure liquor is stocked. I do two runs to the liquor supplier to make sure there’s plenty of whiskey on hand.
Hammer and Lucky are both in attendance at the bar for most of the day and divide their time between barking orders at club members and shooting death glares at anyone who actually wants to have a damn drink. Today is one of the most important events in the club’s recent history, and, in their opinion, anyone who chooses to do anything other than helping set up for the event is a fucking moron.
Though it isn’t said out loud, those fucking morons are going on Hammer’s shit list.
Those fucking morons ought to be terrified.
I don’t serve many drinks today, don’t make much in the way of tips, either, but I get let off at sundown as Hammer makes the call to close up early. Getting an in with the mayor takes precedence over getting drunk.
I breathe a sigh of relief in the parking lot.
I’m on the way home, bone-weary from a day of errands, lifting boxes of bottles, and scrubbing floors on my hands and knees, when a flashing set of lights flares to life in my rearview mirror.
The sheriff.
What the hell did I do wrong?
I wasn’t speeding and I certainly didn’t run any stoplights or stop signs. But here we are.
I pull to the shoulder and Sheriff Bowles exits his car behind me. The sheriff is an older man, around the same age as my dad would be if he was still alive. He’s got a cop mustache that’s more grey than dark brown, and a shock of thinning hair lazily swooped back that’s the same mostly-grey color.
With a motion of his hand that’s both casual and startlingly menacing, he loosens his gun in its holster and then saunters towards my car with that same self-important walk that all cops have, like he knows for a fact that I’m some sort of lowlife scum.
My mind tries to tell me to stay calm, but everything inside me is screaming that something is most definitely wrong. I flash over everything that’s happened in the last week — my relationship with Thrash, my work for the Reaper’s Sons — could this be related? Am I in danger?
Calm down, Alice. It’s just a fucking traffic stop.
I roll my window down and put both hands on my steering wheel.
“License and registration,
please.”
“Is there a problem, sheriff?”
“License and registration, please, Alice.”
He knows my name.
What the hell is this?
I decide to push back.
“Do you know who I work for?” I say.
“I do. And I happen to work for the great state of California and I do not give a damn about whether or not you work for the Reaper’s Sons. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. Give me your license and registration.”
I comply. And stare balefully at him while he glances over my paperwork.
“Why is it you pulled me over? I wasn’t speeding. Heck, I’m so tired I think I was driving under.”
“It looks to me like you didn’t signal your turn back there.”
“Back there? Back where?”
“Back there,” he says, gesturing into the vague distance.
“That’s it?” I say, incredulous. I don’t even know where the hell ‘back there’ is. But I have the distinct feeling it doesn’t matter.
“What’s that in your back seat? ‘Mother Earth Medicines’?”
“It’s nothing.”
Shit.
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me. And that packet next to it certainly doesn’t look sealed from my vantage point. Looks to me like you’re in possession of a questionable amount of cannabis products and one of those looks like it may be in violation of the open container laws. You know it’s illegal to posses an open package of cannabis while driving, right?”
“So is there a fine for that? Can I please just get my ticket and go home?”
He shrugs like he isn’t doing everything in his power to fuck with my day.
“It’s discretionary. One of the major factors in this particular incident is the fact that you’re fucking a man you shouldn’t be. It wasn’t smart of you to hook up with a man like Thrash, Alice. My daughter made that mistake and he’s going to use you just like he tried to use her for whatever the hell plan he’s got. So, I think I’m going to exercise my discretion and bring you in for some overnight confinement.”
My mouth drops open. It feels like I’ve been slapped in the face.
“Are you kidding me?”
“I sure as fuck am not. Now step out of your car.”
I do as he orders me, getting out of the car and putting both hands up against it while he pats me down and then cuffs me. I stand there in the chill evening air while he radios for a tow truck to come impound my vehicle, which will lead to a very large fine just to get my car back — money that I don’t have — and his earlier warning rings loud and clear in my mind. Stay away from Thrash. You can’t trust him.
Despite what he’s said, Thrash hasn’t been fully honest with me.
This is what caring for him gets me. I’m going to lose my job once Hammer finds out about this. I’m ruined. I should’ve known better than to let a manipulative man like that into my life.
When I get out of here, he and I are through.
No more lies.
No more Thrash.
Chapter Twenty-One
Thrash
“Are you fucking insane, Chastity?”
I stare at her, incredulous, through the barely-open front door of her house. She’s got her hands on her hips and a petulant look on her face. Blonde curls spill to her shoulders and the pose she’s making accentuates her curvy hips. If she weren’t batshit insane, and if I wasn’t with a woman who — on every conceivable level — was endlessly better than her, she’d almost be tempting.
What the fuck was I thinking hooking up with her?
“No, Thrash. I’m just sick of your bullshit. Sick of your lies, sick of your manipulations,” she says.
“So you had your father lock up my woman?”
Chastity dismissively flips her hair over her shoulder. “She’ll get over it. And I didn’t have my father do it, though I encouraged him, it was your club that had your woman locked up.”
She’s right, I know, but I’m sure that Chastity took my clubs idea and ran with it. She’s gloating, and was probably more than happy to make Bull’s suggestion of throwing Alice in jail a reality.
“What would I have to do to get you to have your father turn her loose?” I say.
“You really want to go down that road?”
“It’s not a question of want, Chastity. I need her.”
That gives her pause. She actually looks shocked, as if she can’t believe the words that are coming out of me. I don’t blame her — I’ve never said that about anyone before.
“You must really feel something for her, huh? So, how desperate are you to have her back? Would you fuck me if I asked you to?”
“No,” I say, without a shred of hesitation.
“So you obviously don’t care that much about getting her out. I’ve never known you to turn down pussy, Thrash.”
“It’s because I care about her that I wouldn’t fuck you. I wouldn’t do something that could hurt her.”
Her mouth about hits the floor in surprise. “Am I hearing this right? Does Thrash actually give a damn about another person?”
I sense that she’s actually starting to sway in her opinion. This honesty shit works wonders with women, apparently.
“She means something to me. The way I feel about her is different, it’s something important, and it’s fucking scary as hell because I don’t even totally understand it. I care about her, Chastity.”
“Educate me,” she says, throwing open her front door and waving for me to come inside.
I follow her into her living room. Chastity keeps a modest house — it’s a rental that her father owns. The furniture is at least a decade old, but in good condition. There are family pictures on the wall and tacky shit like a singing fish above the mantle of her fireplace.
I take a seat on her couch and pat the spot next to me.
“Sit down, Chastity.”
She takes a seat, leaving a slight bit of distance between us. It’s intimate, but not intrusive. Just enough to let me know she still has feelings for me, but is willing to respect my new relationship with Alice.
I clear my throat and look her in the eyes.
What I’m about to say isn’t easy.
“I hurt you. I used you. Then I dumped you. I never gave a damn about you. And you have every right to hate me, to want to hurt me. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved a lot better. And you also deserve an apology.”
She blinks. “I can’t believe my ears. Is she really that important to you?”
“Don’t skip over this. Listen to me, Chastity, I am sorry. I’m man enough to admit to you that I did you wrong, that I should have never treated you the way I did. If I could take it back, I would.”
She stands up, tossing her hands out and looking down at me in disbelief. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that? Ages. Fucking ages. But even so, Thrash, that’s not enough.”
“The fuck more do you want? Do you want me to grovel? For me to get on my knees and beg?”
“No. You hurt me deeply, Thrash. Every time you ignored me, every time you gave me a flicker of hope, just so I would suck your cock. I still hate your fucking guts, but I’ll help you get her out. Now, this is what I want. Hold still…”
She hits me with a slap that’s hard enough that my teeth rattle.
“Now, let’s go get your Alice out of jail,” she says. “Come on, I’ll meet you at the sheriff’s.”
On the way out to my bike, I pull out my cell and call Riot. I have the feeling I’m going to need backup, just in case Sheriff Bowles decides to show some backbone.
Riot picks up on the fifth ring, just as I’m about to say fuck it and hang up.
“What’s wrong?”
“Where are you?” I say.
“The bar. Why? What’s wrong?”
“You sober enough to help me out with something serious?”
“Yeah. I’m good for it. Talk to me, brother, tell me what’s happening.”
“Shit. He went behind your back like that? That’s fucking low.”
“Damn right. But I’ll deal with that shit at another time. Right now, I just want her out of there.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I hang up and ride to the sheriff’s. We get there all about the same time and, together, the three of us head inside like we own the damn place. I’ve got to appreciate Chastity as we step inside — she shoots a death glare at the deputy working the front desk that keeps the man in his seat and, in no uncertain terms, tells him to shut his fucking mouth instead of giving us shit for marching in unannounced.
She leads us further back into the station, right to her dad’s office. Chastity throws open the door like she doesn’t give a damn, and the look of shock on her father’s face is something I’ll remember, and appreciate, for a long damn time.
“Let her go.”
Sheriff Bowles manages to recover quickly and shakes his head. “Fuck off, Thrash. We made a deal with the fucking president of your club, we’re not backing out of it.”
Chastity steps forward. “Do it, dad.”
The sheriff looks at his daughter in shock. “Have you lost your mind? Do you know the shit we’ll get into if we cross the Rebel Riders?”
I step up and slam my fist down on his desk. “What’s her bail? Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it. Just let me take her out of here. Now.”
“I haven’t even run up the paperwork, yet.”
Riot steps up. “How long have you fucking had her here?”
“Five hours, give or take.”
I can’t contain myself “It take your illiterate ass that long to fill out some fucking forms?”
“Watch your tone,” Sheriff Bowles says.
“I’m not going to tell you again: let her go. I will tear this place down if I have to,” I say, feeling my fists clench and one wrong word away from leaping on the sheriff and teaching him a lesson.
Chastity positions herself between me and her father. “Just do it. Unless you want me talking to the papers about how the sheriff is for hire.”