Dixon's Resurrection (Hell Raiders MC Book 2)

by Lowe, Aden

  Half a dozen computer screens lined one wall, and a big screen on another. A conference table occupied the middle of the room and the other wall held an array of electronics Dix had no clue about. All but one computer screen was black at the moment, and Trip sat before it typing furiously.

  "Take a seat. Trip has some questions." Kellen pulled out the chair at the end of the table and dropped into it.

  Dix held a chair for Georgie then sat beside her as the big screen at the end lit up. Dread settled in his belly. From the looks of all that equipment, they could find out anything about anyone. Including him and his past. Shit.

  Trip leaned back and lit up a smoke. "So, Georgie, I need everything you can remember about the guy that took those pics. No detail is too small."

  Dix almost sighed in relief the questions focused on Georgie's pictures. Strafer showing up like that had him paranoid as a pot head in a court house.

  Georgie shook her head a little, and tried to take her hand from his, but again, he held on. "There's not a lot to tell. He was just some guy with a load of bullshit and I was young and dumb and fell for it all."

  A cloud of smoke obscured Trip's features. "How old were you?"

  "Seventeen. But I was emancipated." She hung her head and her voice dropped low, almost inaudible. "I got a job at a little diner and he came in every day. He was older, in his twenties, and I was flattered when he paid attention to me. It was dumb. After a few dates, he talked me into taking pictures. After that, he moved on, and I got smarter and took the pictures, but he must have had them saved." She kept her head lowered, hiding her face.

  Instinct urged Dix to hold her but judging by her body language, she wouldn't welcome it. Fuck it. Welcome it or not, she needed comfort. The damn chair wouldn't turn, so he released her hand to adjust it. She drew her hand back slowly, as if she couldn't quite believe he'd let go. Damn it. He finally got the chair to move on the hard rubbery surface of the floor and turned it to angle toward her.

  Slipping his arms around her, he pulled her closer. The glare she gave left no doubt he'd pay for it later. But she relaxed a little and let him hold her. Better than nothing.

  Trip gave a slow blink and turned to Kellen, who shrugged. "Okay, tell me more." He took a long drag off his cigarette and flicked ash into his palm, then rubbed it into his jeans.

  Georgie took a deep breath, making it very clear she preferred not talk about the bastard. "Okay. His name was Mason LaSabre and he was a photographer. He had a lot of connections and partied with models and actors. He kept telling me I should be a model and he could get me a part in a movie. I guess I just wanted to believe it." A tear rolled over her lashes.

  Alarmed, Dix brushed the dampness from her cheek. "Listen, Georgie, that guy was a predator. He'd probably done that to dozens of girls. He had time to practice. It isn't your fault. It's his."

  She relaxed a little closer into his chest with a sniffle. "I know all that, but I still feel stupid for letting it happen. And looking back, that part in a movie was most likely porn. On top of that a lot of the girls he partied with either disappeared or were raped. I realize how lucky I was."

  Dix's heart started to pound and he didn't miss the look that passed between Trip and Kellen. Georgie could have narrowly missed being a victim of a serial killer, instead of just a sexual predator. "This guy has to be put down."

  Kellen nodded. "Agreed."

  Trip asked for more details, names and dates, locations, and Georgie gave the information in a soft voice, distracted. At least she continued to lean against Dix and allow him to hold her. Finally, the ordeal ended, and Trip assured her he would find the guy.

  Dix stood, continuing to hold onto Georgie as she rose. "Thanks Trip. Really appreciate it, man."

  "De nada, kid. Take care of her." The scowl on the big biker's face clearly showed his determination. "This bastard is going to pay hard."

  Georgie didn't attempt to pull away as he led her from what he'd come to think of as the War Room. Dix still felt the emotional walls she'd erected, but if he stayed patient, they would come down.

  "I'll take you back to town to get whatever you need for the night, then we'll go back to the Ferguson place." He waited for her to object, but she just nodded.

  The door to his room was unlocked, as always. As part of the MC, he trusted all the Brothers with everything he had, right down to his life. Well, everything except his past. Considering that, he carefully strapped up and made sure he had plenty of ammo. Shaving kit and clean clothes later, he and Georgie started for the front of the clubhouse.

  "Hey, kid." Fabio waved him over. "Crank told me about that guy you used to know turning up. The boys need a heads up on anything that might bite us in the ass?" The message was clear.

  As a Prospect, the Raiders were still getting to know him, making sure they could live with, and trust him. The first hint otherwise meant he walked, if he got that lucky. What the hell was he supposed to say? Dix shrugged. "They might want to watch out for any out-of-towners, male or female."

  "These vacationers be looking for anybody in particular?" Fabio's raised brow and half grin spoke volumes.

  "Could be." He took a deep breath and just spit it out. "And they could be dangerous in the freak-the-fuck-out Charles Manson kind of way."

  The slow nod from Fabio gave absolute acceptance. "Good to know. I'll pass the word."

  Gratitude and relief made his knees go rubbery. "Thanks, man."

  Fabio waved him away. "Get the fuck out of here, kid. Take good care of your woman." The bastard hid all his questions behind a good poker face. Demands for an explanation would wait for the time being.

  Able to breathe again, Dix led Georgie to the door. Badger stopped them to exchange his version of pleasantries, ribbing Dix about picking up his meds, then finally said goodnight and sent them on their way.

  "While we're in town, I need to stop in at the Rattlesnake and make sure it's all going okay." Georgie swung behind him like she'd been doing it all her life.

  "Works for me. I want to make sure that ol' boy took the hint and made tracks."

  He kept the speed down when they hit the road even though he normally pushed the limits of skill and machine every time his ass hit the leather. The warmth of Georgie pressed to his back and her arms wrapped snug around his waist made him want the ride to last forever.

  The road passed through a heavily wooded area, where the car had first caught up to them before, and Dix flipped his headlight on in the waning light. The damn place gave him the creeps. He kept expecting a car to barrel out of nowhere to run them off the road. But they made it safe through to the other side and rolled into Stags Leap a few minutes after.

  The parking lot at the Rattlesnake was packed to the brim with the evening crowd, so Dix drove around to the back entrance. The bike would be safer there anyway. Damn, he hated to end this ride. But he still parked the bike and shut it off, waited for Georgie, then swung off himself and flipped his hat around.

  The staff entrance door swung open as he reached for it, nearly banging his head and forcing him to take a quick step back.

  One of the blondes that normally waited tables stormed out and narrowly avoided bumping into them. "Oh! Georgie! There you are." Her hands went out to her sides in a dramatic gesture. "Please. Get rid of that man."

  "Which man?" Concern filled Georgie's face. "What's wrong?"

  The girl shook her head in exasperation. "It's Old Man Weaver. I swear the old bastard has more hands than goddam octopus and when he's drunk, he's fast."

  "He's drunk? Tyler better not be running him a tab."

  "He's not. Couple guys I ain't seen around are buying for him." She threw her hands up with more drama. "One beer turns him into something none of the girls can get past. He's had at least six tonight."

  Dix's blood pressure rose a bit. "What do these new guys look like?"

  The look she gave him would take paint off a car. "Sweets, you think I got time to notice what they look like? He
ll no, I do not." She turned to Georgie. "You know the old fucker gets mean too. Nobody wants to cut him off or put him out."

  Georgie rolled her eyes. "Meaning nobody wants to get cussed out. He ain't big as a bar of soap and couldn't hurt a gnat. All right. I'll take care of it."

  Dix followed her in, slightly amused at the chance to watch her unload on someone other than him. And a lot worried he would find Strafer behind the illicit beer buying.

  Chapter Eight

  Georgie led the way into the Rattlesnake, a woman on a mission, while Dix and the blonde trailed behind. A slight twinge of sympathy for her target interrupted his train of thought, but concern over the strangers supporting the old man's bad behavior won out. He would be seriously surprised if it wasn't Strafer and someone else he'd rather not see.

  The kitchen staff all managed to avoid Georgie's path as she passed through. The bartender kept his back carefully to her, and the blonde headed straight for him. A handful of guys sitting at the bar took their beers and went elsewhere. Evidently no one in the Rattlesnake wanted to be on the receiving end of Georgie's temper any more than Dix did.

  Old Man Weaver and his companions stood out like a sore thumb and Georgie went straight for him. "Mr. Weaver, my girls are complaining you won't keep your hands to yourself."

  The old man sat back a little and peered at her with all the seriousness of someone delivering tragic news. "How could I? All that purty ass jusht walkin' aroun'. A man hash to sample the goods before he takesh it home." The slight slurring of his words made it seem like Old Man Weaver was just a little tipsy but his actions said otherwise.

  Georgie moved closer and wagged her finger under his nose. "Well, you ain't takin' none of these girls home, and you ain't sampling any more. You touch anybody else and I'll toss you out of here on your ass." She turned to his companions. "And you two. I don't know who you are, but you should be ashamed, getting an old man drunk and grinning like 'possums while he gets himself in trouble."

  While she spoke to the strangers, Old Man Weaver eyed her ass in a way that made Dix's blood pressure soar. Without warning, he grabbed her and tried to pull her into his lap.

  Off balance, Georgie stumbled and nearly fell. Enough letting her handle shit on her own. Dix moved in with a cautious eye on the strangers. One of them stared back in clear recognition. Well shit.

  He grabbed one of the old man's hands and pulled it from where he grasped Georgie's waist, hanging onto her for dear life. "Keep your hands off my woman, old man." He grabbed Georgie's upper arm to keep her from falling and helped her regain her balance.

  Old Man Weaver stood, a small handgun clutched in one arthritic fist.

  Dix shoved Georgie behind him as the strangers stood and moved back a little. Who the fuck would give the crazy old coot a gun? "You better put that up, old man."

  Patrons at nearby tables noticed the gun and scuttled away, getting out of the line of fire.

  The gun wavered a little, but still pointed directly at Dix's chest. "You jusht try it boy, any time you think you're man enough."

  Damn it. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt a drunk old man, but he wouldn't stand and get shot either. And the old man's companions presented an unknown threat. Would they step in?

  The old man brought his other hand up to pull back the hammer. Unable to wait longer, Dix stepped in close and grabbed his bony elbow and shoved up, hard. With the gun safely pointed at the ceiling, he twisted it almost gently away and shoved the old man back into his chair. He dropped the hammer carefully and shoved the gun into his waistband for safekeeping.

  Georgie chose that moment to step around him. "You're out of here, you old bastard." Grabbing the old man's wrist, she dragged him from the chair. "Up to you whether you go out with all your blood still inside you or not. Now walk." With admirable restraint, she took a fistful of shirt right between the old man's shoulders and shoved him toward the exit.

  He cussed every step of the way, but Old Man Weaver marched for the door, and out. Several people clapped, mostly women. The old guy was not a favorite around town with his nasty temper and his attitude toward women.

  Georgie started back and Dix turned to the strangers as they resumed their seats. "Who are you?"

  One of them, skinny and pale, grinned to show bad teeth. "We just passing through."

  The other wore baggy jeans and an oversized shirt, concealing a muscular physique. And the heavy chain at his neck sported the inverted pentagram and goat's head that Belial's followers often wore. He nodded his agreement with his companion's statement.

  "Make sure you do that passing in a hurry. Folks around here don't take to well to certain things." He flicked a finger at the pent. "And don't stir up any more trouble."

  The muscular one grinned. "And who are you to be telling us to move on?" He looked around deliberately, his gaze settling on Georgie as she approached. "I like the scenery. Might have to sample some of the local goods myself."

  Anger and fear surged through Dix. "Motherfucker, you go back to Belial and tell him I said go fuck himself." Memories of the past rolled through his head, resurrecting things best left deeply buried.

  The man's grin broadened to reveal teeth filed to points. "I'll be happy to deliver that message. Along with your heart on a silver platter. I'll get a nice little reward. Maybe while I'm at it, I'll go pay your moms another visit. She's tight for an old broad."

  Ice settled in Dix's veins, freezing his thoughts. True to his word, Belial had put a price on his head. The fucker's words sank in. His mother? White hot anger replaced the ice. He grabbed Old Man Weaver's gun from his waistband and shoved the barrel under the man's chin. "You better just walk away."

  The need to pull the trigger made his hand tremble, but Dix resisted the urge. He couldn't protect himself from Belial in jail.

  The man just laughed. "Even if I leave, or you kill me, they'll keep coming. Belial is powerful now. And he wants to eat your heart."

  Dix stepped back. "Then he better be ready for a fight." He lowered the gun and returned it to his waistband, then turned and took Georgie's hand. "Let's get out of here."

  Surprisingly, Georgie went along without objection or question. Several patrons eyed the strangers warily but no one said anything. As he paused at the swinging gate into the bar and kitchen areas, he caught a flash silvery eyes a few tables away.

  Strafer lifted a beer bottle in his direction in a mock toast and grinned. So, Belial had sent a whole crew after him, and now they'd found him.

  Dread grew in the pit of Dix's belly, threatening to consume him from the inside out. He knew only too well what Belial's people were capable of. He'd been one of them. Somehow he'd never considered the possibility of all that maliciousness targeting him. He knew Belial had people looking for him, of course. But Strafer brought his own degree of nasty to the situation. All the whining and hustling and double-dealing in the world couldn't take away from that.

  Dix breathed through the cold sweats and shakes that came with the realization until they got through the kitchen. When he finally managed a good deep breath, it hit with a vengeance and nearly floored him. He collapsed against the wall, unable to gain control of the shaking as memory swallowed him.

  The moonless night closed in around them and Dix just wished they would hurry up and get it over with. Standing watch while Strafer and Mel dug into the ancient grave sucked. Not like anyone cared about a three hundred year old cemetery, let alone a murderer's grave just outside the edge of it. But Belial said they needed the corpse and Dix got stuck with the watch.

  Dressed in black and working by the light of a shielded lantern, Strafer and Mel were practically invisible, and they had the job down to an art. Moving fast, they cut the sod, lifted and rolled it back, then shoveled the dirt out onto a tarp. The gravediggers had shirked their duty and less than two feet down, one of the shovels thudded against the wood coffin. Apparently murderers weren't worth six feet back in the day.

  Old wood creaked a litt
le as Strafer pried the top off the coffin, followed by the muffled crinkle of a big plastic garbage bag being filled with something rather heavy. Then came the thud of the bag hitting the ground followed by Strafer's grunt as he climbed out of the grave.

  Finally, almost done. Dix relaxed a little. Another fifteen minutes tops.

  Another grunt, louder than the first, coincided with a sickening crunch and a thick thud. What the fuck? Alarmed, Dix sprinted toward the grave, fighting not to cry out when an oddly angled headstone cracked his shin. The scent of damp earth and moldering rot assaulted him as he slid to a halt in time to see Strafer bend and shove something heavy into the open grave.

  He looked around for Mel, but she'd disappeared.

  Strafer straightened, and Dix prepared to run like hell. His face gleamed eerily in the lantern light. "Good, you just in time. Help me with the tarp."

  "Where did Mel go?" Dix hesitated, still feeling the need to get away.

  "She's taking a little vacay south of the border." Strafer pointed dramatically at the grave. "She had a habit of asking questions." He bent to grab a corner of the tarp. "Now, you gonna help or not? Grab the tarp so we can dump the dirt back in."

  Stunned, Dix followed directions and helped push the loose soil into the grave. They replaced the rolled sod, careful to return the grave to its previous appearance. Stafer shoved the garbage bag at him, and grabbed the tarp and shovels.

  "Ready to get out of here?"

  Hell yes, he'd been ready to get out of there.

  A hand tapped his jaw, not too gently. "Dix? Honey, you okay? What's going on?"

  Shit. He cowered against the wall, shaking, with Georgie supporting him and trying to bring him around.

  "It's okay, I got you. Just breathe." A mixture of relief and concern settled over her features.

  Fuck, the walls were narrowing, crowding him. "Outside…Please." The gasped words seemed utterly foreign. That darkness had remained in its little box in his subconscious for a good long while. Why the fuck did it have to come out now?