The Riot (Hell's Disciples MC Book 5)

by Jaci J

  “Yeah, grilled cheese.” Now I’m horny and hungry. Rock’s hands and cooking are enough to turn me into a mess. A stupid, stupid mess. “But really, how are you?” I ask as I look at him.

  A tiny smile graces his scarred lips. Nodding thoughtfully, he tugs me closer. “Good, baby. I’m good.”

  A mess. A big stupid mess when it comes to him.

  He goes on to tell me what he’s been up to. He gives me enough to keep me interested, but not enough to include me with ague references and half-truths, but I listen while he unloads, happy to shoulder some of the stress. God only knows, he carries a lot of mine.

  We spend the rest of the night talking, until there’s nothing else left for us to say.

  ***

  “Fuck, they always scream like that?” Rock questions, hesitating at my door. We put the rod up, he rubbed me down, and we caught up on our eight-day hiatus. It’s now close to three in the morning, but try telling that to the people on the other side of my wall. My neighbors are having one of their usual knock-down, drag-out fights. She’s screaming at him for being a lying, cheating bastard, and he’s hollering back about her being a worthless lazy bitch.

  It’s just another day in paradise.

  “Yeah. Sometimes, they have real loud makeup sex too,” I laugh. That’s always the cherry to my sundae.

  “When you gonna move?” Rock hates me living here. Can’t see why, though. It’s only a partially dilapidated apartment complex in the ghetto. We have your customary bars on the windows…well, the ones with glass in them do anyways. Tweekers are on every curb, along with broken down vehicles in the parking lot. It’s heaven here on earth.

  “When I win the lotto,” I say seriously. Between my brother always borrowing from me, my mother always needing something from me, student loans, bills, and life in general, I’m pretty broke. It doesn’t help that we live in a small economically challenged town. No jobs equal little money. It’s a whole fucking thing, and it only depresses me to think about it.

  I could become a hooker, but I’m sure that would give Rock a stroke, and I really don’t want to kill him. At least not yet.

  “Come stay with me until you can save up to get you outta this shithole.”

  “I’m good, Rock. Really.”

  Here we go.

  “I hate leavin’ you here. You got crackheads out front, and crazy neighbors next door. Fuck, I worry about ya.” And as sweet as that is, I can’t do it.

  “Well, I worry about you and that outrageous temper of yours,” I sass back. That temper is going to get him in some trouble if he doesn’t wrangle it in.

  Laughing, he shakes his head at me like I’m the crazy one. Taking two steps down the stairs, he hesitates, and just like it always does, a bit of longing clings to my heart. I hate when he leaves.

  “Thanks for coming by to help me hang that up. Next time, I’ll make you dinner or something.”

  “Babe, you don’t have feed me. I’ll always come when you need me”

  “Thank you, Rock.” He turns and walks down the stairs. Stopping at the bottom, he looks back over his shoulder at me, and that thing that always happens when we look at each other passes between us before he smiles and takes another step away.

  “Lock that shit up tight, babe. Do it for me. Now.” He stops at the curb and gives me a stern look. “Lock it, Ellison. I mean that shit.”

  Nodding, I start to close the door, but before I do, I laugh softly at his foreboding frown. He means business.

  “Night, Rocky.”

  “El?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sleep good, babe.”

  “Yeah. You too.”

  Locking the door, I go to bed, alone.

  ***

  Privileged wouldn’t be a word I’d use to describe my childhood or my life. It wasn’t horrible, but it could’ve been better. With a basket case for a mother, a drug addicted brother, and a non-existent father, things were rough. I had Rocky, and most of the time he was enough, but sometimes life weighs heavily on you. So sometimes, when I’m slammed during my eight hour shift at the bar, I stop and wonder how the fuck I got here. I went from a straight A student, destined for a full scholarship, to waiting tables by day, slinging booze by night, and shaking my shit on the weekends. I ask myself how the hell I let myself get here, but I know. Shit circumstances.

  Oh how the mighty fall.

  I work at The Grill & Grind. It’s a bar and grill in the front, strip joint in the back, and it’s all inside of one building. It’s nothing new, and it’s nothing nice, but it pays the bills, just barely. I’m making the best out of what life has dealt me with a smile on my damn face.

  Running the back of my hand across my forehead, I wipe away the small beads of sweat collecting on my brow. It’s been a busy day, and I’ve done nothing but run. I take a breather, gulping back a glass of lukewarm tap water, but it doesn’t last long. The bell above the door jingles and someone out front hollers, “Yo, service!”

  Walking back around the corner, I find Rock sitting at the bar, staring at me. Danny Boy and Mossy are standing on either side of him, with Buck at his back, and none of them look particularly happy.

  But Rock, he’s looking at me like he doesn’t like me, or much else, really. Grumpy bastard.

  “Hey, guys. Something to drink?” I ask, propping my side against the bar top, aiming for casual, but feeling anything but with four angry men staring at me. “Lunch?”

  “No,” Dan grunts out. “Gotta ask you somethin’.” My back instantly straightens and I go on the defensive.

  Flicking a hand out, I encourage him to get on with it. “Okay…ask.”

  “Your brother. You see him lately?” For a moment I stare, thrown off by his question. The Disciples don’t talk about Mike, ever. Thinking back, I dig for the last time I saw him.

  “About two or three weeks ago.” He came over to borrow money, and when I say borrow, I mean ask for money with no intention of returning it. I’m his personal ATM. Hell, he didn’t even make inside the door. He stood on the small stoop, asking for a hundred dollars, and took off the second the bill hit his palm.

  “Yeah? He say if he was goin’ anywhere? Tell you anything?” Dan pushes, his questions getting more urgent. “Was he with anyone? Drivin’ a truck or car?”

  There wasn’t much said. He asked for money, I gave it, he took it, and he left. Usually that’s how most of our visits go. “We didn’t talk much.”

  “Rock said his shit’s at your place. Must talk to him.”

  “He needed a place to store his crap. We talk, kinda. His stuff has been there a while now.”

  Goddamn Rock and his big mouth.

  Rock and Buck exchange a look before turning their gazes on me, so I stare right back. It doesn’t last long.

  “You lyin’ to me?” Dan snaps. Taken aback, I step away from the counter. Am I lying?

  “If I were lying, it’s not like I would tell you. Duh.” Does he think I’m stupid? Usually people don’t openly admit to lying, especially not to a man wearing a cut. I might be cautious of the Disciples, but I’m not scared of them. I fear two things; death and the IRS. Everyone else can kiss my ass.

  “You sure?” He retorts, getting up from his stool. Getting up isn’t going to intimidate me.

  “Pretty sure.”

  He mulls it over a second and shakes his head. “Yeah, okay.” Dan nods once, looking like he believes me. At least I hope he does. Michael may be my brother, but that doesn’t mean he tells me shit. I’m lucky if he even acknowledges me for anything other than my wallet. “If you see or hear from him, let Rock know. You got me?”

  Not a problem.

  “Yeah. Loud and clear, boss.” I give him a mock salute. I might respect him, but that doesn’t give him the right to get all threatening with me.

  “Good.”

  I watch as Dan walks to the door to leave, Mossy and Buck on his heels. With a frown, I turn to Rocky, ready to tear him a new one.

  “Wh
at the fuck was that about? Don’t bring that shit to my work, Rock.” I will happily and willingly answer any questions Rock and his club have, because they’ve always been there for me, but he damn well knows not to bring that shit to my work. My boss is a prick, and is always looking for a reason to shit-can my ass.

  “Club business, babe. Bring it where I gotta bring it.” Lame excuse.

  “That’s bullshit, Rocky.” I yell, slapping my hands down on the counter. Leaning in, I get close. “Don’t fuck this job up for me like you did the last one.”

  “You knew I wasn’t gonna let you work there once I found out where it was. It was only a matter of time.” He crosses his arms aggressively. The job incident of ‘08. Good times. “That place was fuckin’ rowdy. No place for you. Startin’ to feel the same about this place. You won’t be here long, so what does it matter.”

  “Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass. You don’t always know what’s good for me.” Rock knows me better than anyone, sometimes better than myself. But when it comes to my jobs and my money, he doesn’t know shit.

  “Yeah. Okay, Ellison,” he mutters as he gets up. “Whatever the fuck you say. Not gonna fight with ya.” That’s a first. Once he’s off the stool, he comes around the bar and advances on me. “You see that puke of a brother, you tell me. No shit, babe. I gotta know.”

  “Rocky—”

  “You better fuckin’ tell me, Ellison.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” We’ll see about that.

  Wrapping a big rough hand around the back of my neck, he pulls me into him. There’s no point in fighting him. He always wins. Planting his lips against mine, he kisses me hard, then pulls away and kisses my forehead, letting his lips linger on my skin.

  “Now be a good girl, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I mumble.

  Good girl my ass.

  Two

  Friends with Benefits

  Rock

  It’s been a week since I’ve seen Ellison, but it’s not unusual for us. Might see her every day, or a couple times a week, but the longest was for six fucking months. I prefer keeping her close, but El doesn’t always make that easy on me.

  Last time I saw her, she was staring at me from across the bar top like I was pissing in her Cheerios. She hates me asking about her brother, and I hate having to ask. Nothin’ I enjoy more than rehashing shit I’d rather bury. But, when shit gets unearthed, I have no choice but to ask questions. I’ll ask until I get the answers I want.

  I got a sneaking suspicion that her piece of shit brother is behind some of this shit that’s been going on. For the past few weeks, he’s been AWOL. I know that fucker’s somewhere close, laying low, hoping we forget he’s a shit stirring little rat. Unfortunately for him, The Hell’s Disciples don’t forget, and most importantly, we won’t let it go. He’s in for a world of hurt once I get my hands on him.

  Through the door and out into the parking lot, loud music, and even louder voices hit me. Weeding through bodies and weaving around tables, I make my way up to the bar and find El filling shots glasses. With a bottle of liquor in her hand and a cup on the bar, she pours and chats with a woman in a trashy skirt on the other side waiting for her drink.

  Ellison looks so fuckin’ wrong here behind that bar. I see her somewhere a million miles away from here. From the moment I met her, there’s always been this light in El. She fuckin’ shines. Each time I see her here, in this bar or in her neighborhood, I see that light dimming. I hate that she lets life do this to her, but what can I do? She has to do it herself, but I’ll be right here waiting once she figures that out.

  Stopping at the bar, I see there’s a man sitting right in front of her on a stool that looks like it has my name on it. Grabbing onto his shoulder, I politely suggest he get the fuck up. “Mind if I sit here?” He looks ready to argue until he sees the dealmaker, my cut, and nods vigorously.

  “Oh. Yeah, sure.” Smart man.

  I take a seat and watch her pour drinks, chat with customers, all while ignoring me. She knows damn well I’m sittin’ right the fuck in front of her, but she’s gonna play her little games tonight and drive me crazy.

  “You mad at me, babe?” I ask, interrupting her conversation.

  “Not yet, but give it ten minutes,” she sneers, exchanging the shot of Makers for a five-dollar bill. “I’m sure you’ll do something stupid.”

  I’ll do damn near anything for a reaction out of her. I live to set that attitude of hers on fire.

  “Keep the change,” the woman tells her before turning her attention to me when Ellison doesn’t bother offering me any more of hers. Leaning an elbow on the bar, the chick juts her tits out. I swear to Christ, the cut is a bitch magnet.

  “Hey,” she says softly, pouting her glossy lips. I wish like a hell this bitch could hold a candle to El, but with one head to toe, I know there is no fucking competition.

  “Darlin’.” I give her a nod, but I’m too busy watching Ellison roll her eyes over the bitches’ shoulder. Jealous little shithead. She doesn’t want me, but no one can have me. I love that shit.

  “You’re handsome.”

  “Ya don’t fuckin’ say?” I’m not interested, but it annoys the piss outta El, so I decide to play her game.

  “Wanna buy me a drink?” Fuck no. Waste of money.

  “Darlin’—”

  Reaching over the bar, El taps the woman on the shoulder. “Honey, you’re gonna need a few more of those before he’ll even consider taking you home.”

  Real fucking nice.

  “Excuse me?” The woman gapes at a victorious Ellison. Fuck, she’s in a mood, and she’s gonna make damn sure I don’t get any pussy from anyone other than her tonight.

  El is all I want. I’d fuck her on the regular for the rest of my life if she’d let me, ‘cause the only thing I need is what she’s offering. She’s had a few deadbeat boyfriends here and there, but for the most part, El knows that if she needs something, she’s got me.

  I’ll be the first to admit I’m not a goddamn saint. Hell, I’m not even a good guy. I fuck other bitches, but never while I’m with El, because really, I’m not fucking interested. When we’re not on, I get what I need where I can. She might not like it, but I don’t lie to her. Ellison knows the score.

  The minute she wants to put that patch on, she’s it for me. Until then, we do what we gotta do.

  “He likes them sloppy drunk, face down, ass up kinda shit,” El chirps happily. She’s so damn proud of herself that I have to laugh. What a little fucking liar. The woman gives me a once over before standing to leave, clomping off bitterly with her heels slapping the old floor.

  Twisting in my seat, I stare down the animal behind the bar who’s snickering to herself.

  “That was cute.”

  “I thought so.”

  “You’re fuckin’ crazy, baby.”

  “Eh. What are you gonna do? Stop talking to me?” she snorts and rolls her eyes. Not on her life. She’s not getting rid of me that easy.

  Two dudes at the end of the bar call for her, and she leaves me sitting here watching her go, wondering why I let her rule my world. I put up with far more than any other sane motherfucker would. Why? Because she’s fuckin’ Ellison, that’s why. My whole goddamn world.

  She left me with shit to drink. Reaching over the bar top, I grab the bottle from behind the bar and spin in my seat. Leaning back against the counter, I watch people while I wait for the little shithead to come back and give me more hell.

  The place is busy for a Sunday. Most of the tables are full, and there are two girls on-stage working the pole. Neither of them sport anything special. Nothin’ worth grabbing a chair for, that’s for damn sure.

  There are two reasons I come here; business and El.

  This place isn’t where I envisioned a wild haired little girl to be all those years ago. It sure the fuck isn’t a place I want her dancing in, that’s for sure.

  She slings drinks here two nights a week, serves breakfast out front at the grill the
other two mornings, and dances here a few nights in between. I fuckin’ hate it.

  Ellison pours drinks and bullshits with a few people at the end of the bar, not worried about me down here all by my fuckin’ lonesome. She’s lucky she’s beautiful, or I would’ve left already.

  After about fifteen minutes, she walks over to me, after all her customers are happy and liquored up, while I’ve been over here in a foul fucking mood.

  “You want something?” she snaps, resting a hand casually on the bar next to mine, drumming her fingers. “Because I don’t have all damn night.”

  “You’re in a fuckin’ mood. You talk to all your customers this way, or am I special?” Christ. She knows I like her mean mouth and the attitude that flows right on out of it.

  “Yeah. Only the special assholes get my love and affection,” she bites out sarcastically.

  Well, this has been fun, but… “You comin’ home with me after you’re done ignorin’ me?”

  I need a taste. It’s been way too long for my liking.

  Ellison looks like she’s thinking it over; chewing her lip and batting her lashes at me. When she inches closer to me, I can’t resist. Snatching her by the back of her neck, I jerk her in close. “Don’t fuck with me, babe. I was enjoying it before, but now I’m not.” Her smile only gets bigger.

  “Well, I kinda had shit to do tonight.” She pulls away, putting space between us.

  “The only thing you gotta do tonight is me.”

  “I know most people ask how high when you say jump, but I’m not one of them, and you know this,” she tells me. I’m very aware of that. If Ellison were that woman, we wouldn’t be here. Not exactly sure where we’d be, but it sure the fuck wouldn’t be in a titty bar, debating on whether or not she’s coming home with me.

  “Yeah, babe, I’m real clear on that. But tonight, you’re jumpin’ when I say so.” Jumping right into my bed.

  “Maybe.” No maybes about it.

  “El. Don’t make me hop up over that fuckin’ bar.”

  “Fine. I’ve got a couple hours left.” Yeah that’s what I thought. “You can wait.”

  And I do. I wait like a chump for my little piece of heaven.