“Yeah?” MacGyver asks.
“Pussy” Ruger gets off the phone with a laugh.
“Well?” I ask in a harsh tone.
“He’s going to see you. I will take you too him,” he states hesitantly.
I follow him out of the main hall and across the lot to a large brick building. Ruger is waiting outside the bunker as we walk up. Ruger nods for the prospect to leave and he does gladly leaving just Ruger and I standing.
“Let me in there, Ruger. I know what you’re doing and I want my turn,” I demand of him.
“Are you sure about this? It’s pretty grizzly in there,” he asks.
“It can’t be anymore grizzly than what I saw this morning. Ruger, I NEED this. You know I do,” I plead with him.
“Let me talk to Benelli, I can’t guarantee you anything, but I’m telling you, if you go in there, you can’t back out. What happens in there, stays in there,” he tells me, making sure I whole heartedly understand. Trust me, I’ve got this, I think to myself.
Ruger
“You really think she has it in her?” Benelli questions me after telling him what’s going on.
“Yeah, I really do. She needs this. She needs this way more than you do,” I state quirking a grin at Benelli. My son gives me a look like he does not understand what I’m talking about. I know what’s up. I saw how he was with Elle and I know he thinks he needs to deliver the punishment himself to right a wrong. He’s not fooling me at all, and I just give him that look that tells him I know he’s more interested in Elle than I think he even knows.
“Fine,” Benelli gives in, “Dad, you better be right about this. If she can’t handle it or this gets out, you know what this means for all of us.”
“I know son, but I’m telling you she’s got this. If something ever happened to you…” I tell him, but he breaks in.
“I know, but there is a tremendous difference between you and that lady over there,” he states and continues, “Oh, and dad?”
“Yeah?” I question.
“You may think I have the uncontrollable urge to take care of Elle and yeah, maybe I do… but I also saw the way you look at her mom, so don’t be giving me that look of what the fuck ever that is because whatever I’ve got in my head for that girl, it goes double for you and her mom,” he tells me.
Fuck, that kid has an expert eye. I’m not even going to try to deny that there is something about that woman, but let’s be honest, she’s grieving for Reaper. I’m not going to push my way in when she has to have time to heal. Reaper gave me the go ahead on his dying breath and I’m going to honor his wishes, but I’m also not going to shit on his memory by trying to take her like this.
Reaper was my best friend, and he didn’t talk often about Michelle sober, but when we got a little too much whiskey in us, that’s when he opened up. Over the last 22 years I’ve heard everything he knew about her and I felt like I knew her too. I mean, of course I have met her and spent a little time with her while she was here, but Reaper KNEW her in every sense of the word.
Michelle
Ruger leads me in, and instead of the shock of the carnage, I only see the filth in this man. I hold my hand for a gun, not taking my eyes away from this piece of shit. I can see out of the corner of my eye it’s Ruger who hands me his. I take the gun in my hand and feel it, the weight, the angles, the grip on the palm of my hand. I get it just right and feel the comfort in it, the power and strength in it. I look at the man hanging by chains and smile as I flip the gun’s safety off with my finger and take aim.
I blow out his kneecap and tell Frodo, “This is for Reaper.” Frodo is screaming in agony but he has no clue how bad it’s about to get for him. I pace back and forth around his blood-soaked body, deciding the exact spot I want to be in, like a jaguar going in for the kill. The men are just watching me silently. No one would dare. They can tell by my first shot and not flinching or retching that I know what to do and that I am not walking away from this. I have business to handle with him and I handle my business. I walk over to the side of his body about 15 feet back and aim looking down the sight deciding that it’s not quite perfect yet I take a few more steps to the left and check the sights again, looking at not only the target but the area beyond it. “Yes, that’s better,” I say in a soft but dark tone.
Remington, the club’s enforcer grins in my direction, “Oh yeah, good checking your surroundings, you’ve got this,” in an encouraging and coaching voice. Oh, I know I’ve got this, but I nod to him in recognition. I pull the gun up aiming it at Frodo and he looks back at me in contempt. He watches me and my hands as he is noticing the gun moving down, down, slowly down his body. The target now aimed right at the low life’s crotch. His eyes growing wide and he begs and pleads for mercy but I don’t listen to his bullshit and tell him calmly, “And this is for my daughter!” as the gun goes off and the bullet flies right to his dick. The appendage flies off of his body across the warehouse, bounces off the concrete wall and ricochets landing on a table of pliers, saws and other torture devices. As soon as the bullet hits his dick all the men were grabbing at their own packages moaning. But when it flies off his body bouncing off the wall and like Michael Jordan landing like I had purposely and accurately planned the landing all along, they all start busting up laughing. Now seeing me in a whole new light.
Lucky gets down on one knee before pledging his devotion to me, “Marry me?”
“You’re cute and all, but I’m almost old enough to be your mother,” I answer his proposal.
“Get the fuck up, Lucky. She ain’t marrying you,” Ruger says a little too possessively.
Lucky crawls across the floor still on his knees with his hands in prayer pleading to me, “then will you be my mommy?”
Everyone busts out laughing as I pat his head like a puppy. All but Benelli, I watch this young man walk over to the now unconscious Frodo as he puts a last bullet between his eyes.
Benelli
***Reaper’s Funeral***
It’s a hot Tuesday, June 10th, to be exact, the day that Reaper is laid to rest. Surrounding the hearse is hundreds of bikes going down the road in a majestic procession. It’s easy to see the man was respected, well loved and admired.
The parade of bikes ride down the highway past cornfields, fishing ponds, the crisp blue sky against the beautiful green earth. We all turn off and cut through to his favorite spot. It’s a park and campground along the Mississippi River where he would ride to and then sit to watch the barges going down the river. Along the blacktopped paths, the bikes are all lined up. One would think it was more of a bike show than a funeral. Everyone solemnly walks up to where the urn and easels filled with pictures of Reaper are set up on display. It takes quite a while for everyone to take their pass through and show their respects, but as the line dissipates and the chairs are all filled with close friends and family the funeral begins. So many people that over half of them are standing behind the rows of chairs. Some of his favorite songs have been playing softly in the background.
Preacher steps up to the front of the crowd and announces that Phoenix, the club secretary of the Unfortunate Souls, New Freedom will come sing “Freebird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. He slowly walks forward and nods towards the urn, tapping his fist to his heart, kisses his fingers and then points them to the sky, looking upward. He turns back to the gatherers, the music starts and he sings, “If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?” continuing with perfection and emotion causing all the crowd to shed a tear. Who can’t help but get teary-eyed listening to that song? Even me, as I try to be the tough leader that I need to be and wipe it away before it strays beyond my shades. I look over to Elle and realize that all the amazing times I had with him and my father growing up, she never got to have that and now never will. She and her mother are holding each other’s hands together, both wearing stylish but not gaudy, black dresses, Elle’s head and deep, dark waves of silky hair lean on Michelle’s sleeveless shoulders. Michelle takes her arm, bendin
g it and placing her palm on her daughter’s hair. She turns her head to kiss her daughter.
Her actions made me think of my own mom. I’ve missed the kind of comfort and love you get from a mother. I was 22 when my mom died and, don’t get me wrong, I know she loved us but she was going through some things when the accident happened. She seemed quieter, more secretive, especially around dad or other club members. We never saw mom and pop arguing around us, but they just weren’t like they were when we were young. By that time Remi and I were living at the clubhouse so we didn’t see what happened at home. I know dad was always loyal and never touched any of the club girls, but he was down a lot more that last year she was alive. Mom drank a little more at club functions. That’s how she had her accident. We had a big club function with the other charters, and mom had been a little tipsier than usual. Nobody saw it but me, but she was looking at something on her phone and went and grabbed her keys to leave. Dad saw her walking to the lot and tried to stop her by taking them away from her. I couldn’t hear what she said but saw her grab them away from him and shove him with one hand and spin and got in her car, spitting rocks from the tire when she left. That’s the last time I saw her. She had gone down an embankment and rolled the car several times. Do I think she was having an affair? Probably, even though I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew the alcohol was starting to be a big problem for her.
My mind drifted back out of the memory and into the present. I look ahead to my officer finishing his singing. After Phoenix is done and seated Preacher, another club member, walks up and stands before the crowd again, “Today we lay to rest our brother and honored President and founder, Jonathan Samuel Holmes. Reaper, as most of us know him,” speaks Preacher. You can hear snickers throughout the crowd, continuing to get a little louder until someone in the back yells out “John Holmes” which by this time everyone is busting out laughing hysterically. Everyone except Elle who doesn’t get the joke. Even Michelle has a smile on her face, “I can vouch for that,” she says under her breath. Elle at this point is so confused and her mom leans over and says she’ll explain later.
The funeral goes on the rest of the way without a hitch. People getting up and sharing their memories of Reaper. Some funny, some sad. Most are how he always had your back and you could always count on him. Elle takes it all in, getting to know him in the only way she will ever be able to now, with the memories from his friends and family.
After the funeral, the procession all heads back to the clubhouse for a lunch and a reunion of sorts.
Elle notices that vast expanse of people at the dinner this time. “Are they all Unfortunate Souls?” she asks me.
“The ones with cuts are. They aren’t all in this chapter, though. There are two other chapters besides ours. To think it all started with your dad,” I reply.
Elle
We spend the rest of the afternoon talking and getting to know each other. Benelli also excusing himself every so often so he talks to everyone. She easily sees why they made him the new president. He has a charisma and an air of confidence about him. I also have other conversations here and there with mom, Sheila and some of the other old ladies. Occasionally, someone will come up to me and introduce themselves and give me a hug. I don’t mind the women, but when the men do it I stiffen, I can’t help it. Benelli is always quick to notice the tension and comes to my side no matter where he is. He just appears out of nowhere and I am starting to realize the pattern. He really is a protector, I think to myself.
I am really surprised of how kind and friendly everyone is. Nothing like I would have pictured a bunch of bikers to be. Of course, my only reference is Sons of Anarchy on TV and a photo shoot I did at a bike rally. I smile to myself, man was I naïve and sheltered. They really are genuinely good people. Except for the bad ones and remembers the Vengeful Demons and I shudder. At that I lean over to mom and tell her I’m going to lie down for a while before it’s time to pack.
Benelli, seeing me get up and head to my room at the club and stops me. “You ok hon?”
“I’m just exhausted,” I lie to him and try to pass it off, hoping he doesn’t see me about bursting into tears. I get to my room and shut the door. I pop a pill they gave me for anxiety and lie on the bed trying to forget all the bad things that I have witnessed and felt in the last week. I curl into a ball and cry myself to sleep.
While I was in my room Benelli talked to my mom and told her to just stay the night and not to worry about packing and leaving today. He told her I was upset and trying to get some rest. I’m really glad we stayed another night, I slept like a rock the entire night.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Elle
It’s the day after the funeral and mom and I are each in our rooms packing up to head home. Doc Karen stopped by earlier this morning to let me know all my blood tests came back great, no STD’s from the rape and I’m definitely not pregnant, that part I knew. A gentle rap of knuckles on my door makes me look up. “Hey, can we talk?” Benelli asks with his fists in his pockets.
“Sure,” I reply, and he enters the room and leans sideways against the wall, his head laying against it. He is looking down at his feet like a sad little puppy. Maybe he doesn’t want me to go. I feel safe around him and I don’t want to go, but I don’t want to wear out my welcome. Then without moving his head, his eyes look up at me. HOLY FUCK! That man is just…wow. I never noticed it before. The dark Italian complexion and black hair, those amazing eyes. Now he is running a hand through his thick, black locks and biting his lip. I honestly thought my libido was dead forever. Don’t get me wrong, there is no way a man is going to touch me again for a very long time, but I can appreciate that beautiful man in front of me. I need to stop staring at him, right? I need to say something. Would he think it’s weird if I tell him not to move and get out my camera? There, I capture us in a moment in time, just staring at each other. Finally, he takes a step towards me and breaks the connection our eyes share. I shake my head slightly to bring myself back to reality.
“Everything ok?” I ask.
“It’s just been a long day,” he replies, looking back down at the shaggy rug on the hardwood floor. I wonder where he got that reply I think to myself having lied and told him the same thing yesterday, so I just tilt my head and slightly grin.
I know better than that and feel compelled to get up and walk to him and take his hand in mine and lead him to the edge of the bed. We sit turned towards each other and I reply with, “Yeah, a long ass week,” and give him a huge sigh, “but what else is going on? There is something else,” Jeez I don’t think I can take much more. What else could it be now? The only thing I want it to be right now is don’t make me leave. Part of me is more than ready to go back to Cottonwood, Arizona away from all this pain but another part of me feels complete safety around him. I know that if I go back to Arizona it’s not going to change the fact that Calibar is still out there somewhere.
He stares into my eyes like he’s hypnotized, just staying silent and staring. There he goes again, and he doesn’t have to say a word. I’ll just sit here on the bed and look back at him all day, I don’t care. “I don’t think you should go yet,” he finally lets out. I let out an enormous sigh of relief. “Calibar is still on the loose and I want to protect you.” I cringe and pull my knees up to my chest on that last one. “Damn, I’m sorry, Elle. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says, running that damn hand through his hair again. That movement right there is it for me. It tells me he cares and even though it’s his “tell” of hesitancy and frustration, it’s all his “he doesn’t want to ever hurt me” look. “I know I really know nothing about you, I’d really like to get to know you. If you leave, how can I do that?” he gives me the slightest, sheepish grin as he tilts his head just so.
I take a breath and start talking, “I just graduated from college, literally. I was planning on finding my father, him taking me in as his daughter immediately and spending the summer with him, getting to know him, before I go back. Th
ere is no reason for me to stay now.”
I can tell that he didn’t want to hear that part when he gets stiff. What did I say wrong and then it hits me, he wants to be my reason for staying, that has to be it? I don’t really know him, but I feel drawn to him, protected by him. Instead of letting it get to him too much, he says, “stay, there is no better way to get to know Reaper than staying here with the club. He was this club. I mean, you don’t have to stay here. You can stay at my place. I’ve got a nice house with a huge guest room, a pool, a gym, hell even a dog,” he chuckles to me. “You can hang out here when I’m working and get to know all of your dad’s friends.”
“I would like you to teach me self-defense,” I slowly let out, contemplating his offer. “And I do love animals, especially dogs,” I add. “Are you sure I won’t be a bother?” when he takes my hands and shakes his head no, I continue, “Well, I had plans to stay in New Freedom this summer. I don’t have anywhere to be right now and I do have enough money saved up to support myself this summer, though it would be nice to take some photo jobs though, if I can find some.”
“Photography?” he questions, “no kidding, like taking professional pictures and shit?”
Benelli's Elle: Unfortunate Souls MC Book One Page 6
