Born Killer: Bad Devils MC

by Vivian Gray

  But fuck. This was a whole goddamn different story. Where else would she go if it weren’t to Ariel’s?

  I place the new phone in my pocket and race down the stairs towards the warehouse. The first few men I see, I assign them posts. “I need you out on May Street. Del’s house. Her address is in the cards. Check the house. If she’s there, put her on a bike and get her ass back here. If she’s not there, you fucking call me. You understand?” The two dipshits nod vigorously and then run off to the parking lot.

  Another one, a youngish guy, appears behind them with a greasy beard and a haggard look. He avoids my glare, but I’m in a rush to get my work done. I’ll take a chance with any yellow-bellied man that stands near me. “Kid! I need you to call the fifth. Get Detective Sanchez on the phone and tell him that a girl’s gone missing. It’s Delilah. You know what she looks like?”

  “Yeah, I do. I’ve met her a couple times when she was up—”

  “I don’t give a f—,” I begin, then, realizing I’m about to say something stupid, “No. That’s fine. Just – just give him her description. Tell her she went missing on Sunday night. She was probably walking out of the territory, headed for the city on foot. She wouldn’t have taken a car. Ask if he knows anyone or if anyone on that force is willing to talk. I don’t care how much it takes.”

  “What’s Sanchez’s number?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Find. The fuck. Out! Just – just call him. Tell him that Race from the Devils is calling and see how fucking fast they move!”

  “Okay. Yes.” He nods nervously as he wrestles out his phone. “Right on it, boss.”

  “You!” I bark out, recognizing one of the enforcers. “Head over to Seb’s house. Check in with him and his girl. Find out when was the last time he saw Delilah. Don’t leave until you get the facts. I want you to report back within a half hour direct to me.”

  The man pauses, sets his beer down on the bar, and interjects, “But, boss, Nicco’s got me heading out to the—”

  “I don’t give a fuck where Nicco’s got you going. This is priority number one, you hear me?” I’m raging, and I feel like I’m about to bust this guy’s fucking skull open. “And just so we’re clear, I do not fucking appreciate being questioned. You do what I fucking say, or I dock some pay. You get me?”

  The man slowly turns and heads out the door. I’m not entirely sure if I should ream into him some more or let him go, but I choose to let it slide so the task gets done sooner rather than later. I’m already three or four days behind if she really is missing.

  “Who knows where the Rose Wood Cafe is?” I shout above the rest of the noise. The whole room turns towards me, but no one dares say another word. “The Rose Wood? Who is going to ride out there for me?”

  When again no one answers, I do the one thing I’ve wanted to do for the last few days. I pick up the metal folding chair, lift it over my head, and slam it down as hard as I can against the cement floor. The vibrations rattle my arms and chest, but I stand firm to where I am, avoiding the glares of the rest of the men. Almost impossibly, the noise echoes throughout the room so that I can still hear it ringing in my ears.

  “RACE!” a familiar voice shouts from behind me. “What the fuck is going on down there?” I turn to see Nicco looking at me with an unreadable look behind a pair of jet black sunglasses. He marches towards me, carefully stepping over the ruins of the metal chair. I can smell the sweet, dank liquor on his breath as he leans into me, studying me with his beady little eyes.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Race?” he asks, his voice lowered so that the peons listening in don’t get even the faintest earful of our conversation. “You’re not the one who orders the men around. I am. You’re not God around here. That’s my fucking job.”

  “I get that, Nicco,” I try to assure him, staring him dead in the eye. “But I got word that Del, uh Delilah, is missing. We can’t lose her. Not after what I found out about her father.”

  “Her father?”

  It’s been about a week since I’ve talked to Shannon at the run-down diner. And since then, I’ve gone back and forth about giving Nicco the intel on her background. Part of me knew that it was the right thing to do. The guy was sadistic, but he had a mind on him that wouldn’t spill blood unless necessary.

  The other part of me worried that the temptation to make a big play and use Del to lure in the leader of the biggest MC weighed heavily in my mind. There was, at the time, nothing to point me towards him being the one after her. It had been years since he had seen her. But something about this situation with Del gone missing was sounding more and more like MC strikes than ever before.

  “I didn’t tell you, but I found out something about her. Something that you really ought to know.” He points towards the office, and I shuffle behind him, trying to keep up.

  The second we’re in the office, I launch right into my report. “Shannon, Del’s mom, told me that her husband, a former head of the Devils, isn’t dead like all them out there think he is. He’s running the Roadheads now, and Shannon says he ain’t too fond of his old club mates. He may be using Del to either get to us or to Shannon. Honest to God, it’s hard to say.”

  “If this is family business, I don’t want nothing to do with it. Stay out of it, and don’t risk our boys trying to save some pussy.” He sits down in one of the old metal office chairs, the kind that rolls back with your weight. He reaches for a cigarette, but I’m there. I snatch it away from him, crumbling it in my fist and letting the remains fall to the ground. It’s a bold fucking move, one that could get me killed or – worse – demoted. But I need his attention – I need him to listen to me.

  “I’ve got a claim on her, Nicco! And we protect claims! That’s always been our rule, and the boys out there know it too. If we don’t offer protection to their girls and kids, then who the fuck are we and what are we offering them? We’re not a family if we don’t stand up for those in our territory! And you know that Del’s been good since she’s been with me. She’s given half those men down there warm meals and a safe space to go after they’re on their shift. She deserves to be fucking found!”

  “Don’t talk to me like that, you stupid motherfucker. You’re not in charge here! No matter how much you want it, I’m the one they gave the president position to!”

  “I don’t give a shit about my rank or yours. All I care about is getting Del and my baby back!”

  He pauses, leaning forward. Nicco’s voice lowers as he asks, “Your baby? She’s…”

  “Yeah. I found out on the day that she left. I told her… I told her to get out. But I had no idea that he was still looking for her and might make a move. I still don’t know for sure if that’s how it’s going down. That’s why I ordered them around down there. Before I jump, I’m gonna make for damn sure that we know he’s involved. I’m not gonna start a turf war just yet, Nic.”

  He sighs heavily and places his hands behind his head. Something about his eyes change, maybe softens. “You, Race, you’re… you’re gonna be a fucking father. Never thought I’d see the day.”

  I chuckle slightly, still not wanting to give up the gravity of the situation. “Yeah,” I say, a slight smile twitching at the corners of my mouth, “yeah, I guess I am.”

  “A fucking bad daddy. That’s for sure.” He stands tall beside me. “Being a dad myself, not a good one mind you, I know what this means. If that girl is carrying your kid, then you got my support. You got the Devils’ support. Plus, it might be good to bring in some more mileage. We can show those California fuckers what a few mountain riders can do for them.”

  “I’m not going to do anything stupid, Nicco. You know me. I’m the smartest rider out there.”

  “I know that, kid. And I know that if you’re gonna do something stupid, you’ll at least have the audacity to do it right.” He snorts and chortles a little. It’s almost encouraging. “So, go fucking find her. We’ll deal with the consequences later.”

  Hi
s eyes dart behind me, staring out the open door. I turn my back to see one of the kids I ordered around. Nicco motions for him to join us, and he carefully enters like a man about to explore a lair.

  “What the fuck is it, Corey?” Nicco asks him.

  “It’s, uh, it’s the detectives from the fifth,” he stammers. “The cops we got there… uh, Race told me to call them about Delilah. I gave them a description of her, and, well… it took me a few calls, but I got a detective here who says he knows something. He’s willing to talk if you’ve got the cash.”

  I look towards Nicco. Before I can say a word, he chimes in with, “How much does the pig want? And how soon can we get him to squeal?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Delilah

  He killed a man in front of me. To be honest, that piece of shit might have deserved some kind of punishment. My dad caught him as he groped me by thrusting his hand down my shirt as I was handcuffed to the metal chair. I saw the look in my dad’s eyes. It’s the same as mine when I get into one of my rages. The fire is nearly palpable, and may the sweet baby Jesus help the person nearest us when we get in that zone.

  But whatever my anger has been, I’ve never shot a man in cold-blood like that. I have never seriously thought of taking a life for some little sense of vengeance, but I watched in shock and awe as my dad dismissed him, and as the guy walked out of the room, took out his gun and shot him square between his shoulders.

  His small body dropped against the doorframe, his hands grasping around the paneling before slowly collapsing to the floor feet first. I thought I heard him utter my dad’s name, but I couldn’t be sure. I was too busy screaming bloody freaking murder.

  My dad acted like it was nothing. Killing a man, taking someone’s life, was nothing but an unfortunate business reality. Things like this happen when you’re playing with skin. And as the boss, you’re the one who doles out such harsh punishments to fit the crime. Apparently abusing the boss’ kidnapped daughter is worthy of execution because, after the shooting and the clearing of the body by two hapless guards named Mort and Erickson, no one wanted to come near me. I saw them cringe as my father ordered one of them to take me my dinner or to release me for one of the few breaks he scheduled in my day.

  He hasn’t said much to me, really. I don’t really expect him to though. After the moment he introduced himself to me, I made it clear that I was not going to be thrilled he had used a cop to kidnap me or that he had sent armed men to follow me around, ready to pounce. At the end of the first night, before he locked me in the basement, he whispered into my ear, “I know you don’t understand now, but you will. I’m going to make our lives so much better.”

  “How?” I asked, my throat sore from crying. “You left my mom and me years ago. I don’t even know you! The only thing you can do to make my life better is bring me back to Race!”

  “Race? Bad Devils’ Race? Is that the man who took you, locked you in his clubhouse, and knocked you up?”

  “How do you know that?” I sobbed, suddenly remembering my doctor’s warning to take it easy. Being kidnapped was the exact opposite of taking it easy. I couldn’t imagine being tied to a chair in some basement would be healthy for a growing baby.

  “Because I know these things. I have ears where I shouldn’t. And you’re rounder than the first pictures they gave me months ago. You’re filling out.” He spat on the ground as he added, “While I’m not terribly happy it’s that bastard’s baby, a grandchild taking over my post as president of the Roadheads does sound appealing.”

  “Never,” I replied, my chin raised high. “Race will find out that you took me, and he’ll come after you. There will be nothing that stops him. Not you or your damn club. He’ll take all of you down, and you’ll be sorry for coming back into my life like this.”

  My father took his fingers and ran them through my hair. It was if he had to admire every last strand on my head before they faded away. He sighed and then smiled brightly at me. “I’m hoping he’ll come for you, Delilah. I want him to meet the man myself, maybe even shake his hand before I shoot his damn head off.”

  “What?” I asked, my heart almost dropping to my feet.

  “Like I said, I’m not terribly happy that you chose to shack up with the leadership of the Bad Devils. After all, those fuckers kicked me out of my own goddamn club, a club I helped build. I earned my position in that MC, and those assholes repaid me by sending me on missions where they knew I’d eventually get axed off.” His chest heaves, and I can tell just how upset he is. “Don’t you get it, kid? They wanted me dead.”

  “But what does that have to do with Race?” I demand. ”He wasn’t part of the club then.”

  “I know that, Delilah. But he’s their leader now, and all leaders should be baptized by fire. From what I’ve heard, your boy is a greenhorn around these parts. He’s not been tested like I have. He’s not been sent to hell and come back with a tale to tell. Unfortunately, he’s gonna have to prove himself against me, and no one wins against me. You can ask my men about that.”

  He chuckled to himself before coming back to his original point: “After he and your filthy lying mother are out of the way, I’ll re-introduce you to the brothers of the Roadheads. I’ll set you up with my second. He’s a good guy for the most part, and he’ll treat you and that baby real nice. You’ll have the life you deserve instead of working as a waitress in some sleazy Hollywood scum restaurant. You’ll have money, cars, protection, and a home – all the things you should have had years ago.”

  I turned my head coolly to meet him as I say, “You mean all the things a father should have given to their daughter.”

  “Don’t test me, Delilah. You’re a guest here – a real privileged one. Most men who come through those basement doors don’t survive two steps. But if you act nice, sit in this chair, mind your business, and show me that you can obey, we’ll get along nice.”

  He looked down at me as he rose to his feet. Over his shoulder, I caught him looking back at me, his eyes twinkling. There was something he was leaving unsaid, but I couldn’t guess at what that would be. Every night he gave me that same wanting glance before turning off the light and shutting the door.

  Tonight is night number five. The day had passed like the others with me sitting here, arms tied around my back, men moving in and out of the room with drinks and snacks. They would untie me to eat, go to the bathroom, and stretch my legs. I managed to convince them to let me have my vitamins by showing one of the goons my doctor’s notes and telling him the baby could be in jeopardy if I didn’t take them. They handled me with kid gloves then. The brutes became gentle, silent beasts, shuttling me from one activity to the next at the command of my father who checked in every four hours on the dot, even at the middle of the night while I attempted to sleep upright and bound.

  I measured the time by a small, silver clock that ticked loudly above my head. Except for the TV that was brought in yesterday to entertain me, it was the only thing I could watch. I told myself that every second that passed was another second closer to Race rescuing me. Though with every visit and movement of the little hand that he didn’t barge into the basement with guns blazing, I started to doubt Race would ever find me. Was he even looking?

  At six o’clock, my dad appeared in the doorway with a smile as wide as the moon. He walked me arm in arm to the leather couch at the end of the room and then placed my dinner tray on my lap. It was more fast food, but what was I supposed to expect out of a club full of men who probably had never seen the inside of a kitchen.

  “I was thinking of letting you shower tonight. You have been good, and it’s about time.”

  “About time for what?” I ask with a hint of suspicion.

  “Oh, you’ll see,” he replies, his eyes staring at the closed door. It was unusual to see it shut. I can’t remember the last time he had it closed.

  I’m suddenly not that hungry “I would like to shower,” I admit, my voice tired. I can’t remember the last time I bathe
d, let alone changed my clothes or ran a comb through my hair. “But I’m not going to shower with guards.” The dead man’s hands grasping under my shirt replays in my mind. I know that no one would dare attempt it now, but the fear is still there, eating away at me.

  “No. I wouldn’t think you should. You’ll use the shower in my office. I’ll post Erickson and Mort outside the doors so you’ll have your privacy.”

  “And you? Where are you going to be?”

  “Don’t worry about me.” He smiles again as he places a hand upon my knee. “We’ve got a big night ahead. I’m told we have visitors coming.”

  “Visitors?”

  “Yes, Del, and I don’t think you’re going to want to miss them. I want you to be there, watching everything. Then you’ll know and understand exactly who can take the best care of you and your baby. You’ll see what family means to me.”