by K. L. Savage
He chuckles. “You sure you want to do that?” The smoke billows up from his lips, disappearing into the sky. The man turns to face me, and the light hits him just right so I can see his face.
I knew his voice sounded familiar.
“Badge, what the fuck are you doing here?” I lower my weapon, and Wolf does the same.
“You know this guy?” Wolf asks.
“Yeah, I fucking know him.” Fuck, this isn’t good at all. “What are you doing here, Badge?”
“I came here to talk,” he says, and that’s when I notice he is wearing his cut. Wolf takes notice too.
“Holy shit. The Vegas chapter? You’re from the original chapter? What the fuck, man? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because it isn’t important right now. Badge, I need you to take that fucking cut off now.”
“How about you show me inside? You and I can talk. You explain yourself and tell me why I don’t need to drag you home?”
I feel eyes on us, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I narrow my eyes at Badge. “Who the hell did you bring?”
“Who the hell do you think?” he says.
How am I supposed to know?
“Long time no see, Boomer,” Tongue’s slow drawl echoes from the darkness, but his face is nowhere to be seen.
“Who was that?” Wolf says, looking around in the dark.
Tongue’s villainous laugh makes my skin shiver. “I’m a friend.”
“He doesn’t sound like a friend.”
“He is, Wolf. I grew up with these guys. They’re fine. Tongue, show yourself. You’re creeping Wolf out.”
I jump when a hand lands on my shoulder. “Good to see you.”
“Fucking hell! You need to stop doing that.”
“Why? Takes the fun out of everything,” he says.
Badge flicks the cigarette to the ground and blows the rest of the smoke out of his mouth. “Enough with the pleasantries. Show us inside, and tell us what the hell is going on, and why you found the need to have your sister cry nonstop because you won’t answer your phone. She thinks you’re dead, Boomer.”
“Is she okay?” Guilt eats away at me like a damn parasite, knowing I hurt her so much.
“You don’t want to know the truth. Let’s just say, I don’t know if Reaper will ever forgive you for what has happened.” Badge takes a step into the hallway, and I grab his arm to stop him.
“What does that mean?” Sweat, panic, and pure fear grip me. “What does that fucking mean!” I say a bit louder, and Tongue pushes me toward the hallway. He goes to open the office door when I stop him. “I get I hurt you guys, but please take the cuts off. I’ll explain everything. Please,” I say, hoping like hell the other chapter didn’t see them roll into town.
Fuck.
This just got really messy, and I have no idea how I’m going to clean it up.
12
Boomer
Homer gave me the key to the front office yesterday. I open the door and grab a room key that has a double bed. “Unless you guys want a room with a single bed? I’m sure Tongue doesn’t mind cuddling.”
“I only cuddle with my knife,” Tongue mutters evenly without taking his eyes off the silver blade.
“Right. It was a joke, Tongue,” I tell him.
He tilts his head at me, clearly not understanding the joke. “It wasn’t funny.”
“Tough crowd,” I say, trying to ease the tension between all of us.
“I don’t think it’s the time for jokes, Jenkins.”
Jenkins. Badge doesn’t call me Boomer. Damn, I must have lost that respect the moment I signed my name at the bottom of the letter I left for Sarah. I push down the disappointment and lead the guys to the room. It’s near the room I’m sharing with Scarlett, and it only makes me that much more nervous that she will see the side of me I don’t want her to see.
If she ever finds out I was a Ruthless King, I’ll never see her again. She’ll walk away from me, and I’ll have no choice but to follow, to stalk, to do my best to make sure she’s safe.
The rest of my life is dedicated to her, so even if she doesn’t want me, she’s stuck with me; even if it means me lurking in the shadows for the rest of her life.
“Watch out for the steps; they’re old as fuck and need to be replaced,” I warn them and jump over three steps to land on the porch. It creaks and groans under my weight, and it sways a bit from the wind blowing, but it holds.
“This fucking place is a hair away from falling to the ground. You left us for this dump?” Badge scoffs. “Man, you better have a good reason for making me find you.”
“I didn’t make you do a fucking thing. You came here. I didn’t ask you to be here, and I sure as hell didn’t ask you to bring blades of fucking glory over there.” I point to Tongue, who I catch mid-lick on his knife. “Are you kidding me?”
“What? Something was on it,” he says.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, opening the door to the room. I flip the light on as Badge throws his bag on the table, and Tongue jumps onto the bed to the right, lying flat on his back, somehow keeping the knife between his teeth without hurting himself. Crazy fucking bastard. Wolf steps in behind me and shuts the door. I peek out of the white curtain to make sure we’re alone. I’ll know soon if the Ruthless Kings of Atlantic City saw Badge and Tongue. It’s only a matter of time before they find us. “Alright, Badge. Cut to the chase. How did you find me, and what are you doing here?”
Badge slides his finger across the TV stand and curls his lip in disgust. He’s obviously not happy with the room. It’s from the fucking seventies, and the man running it is older than dinosaurs. It wouldn’t kill Badge to be a little more understanding.
“You know, I’m surprised it’s you who came here. You’re usually working. You’re not around much. Why do you care?”
“I might not be around, but I do plenty for the club. And I’ll have you know, I’m on a month-long vacation from the force. I have to use up my days since I never do. Boss’ orders.” He finally takes a seat on the bed and pulls out a flask from his cut. “How the hell do you think I found you? I tracked your phone, dipshit. It isn’t hard to do. Reaper told me not to bother finding you. He thinks Tongue and I are on a ride, enjoying the sights of the fucking country or some bullshit.” He takes a sip, and from the smell of it I know it’s Bacardi 151. That shit is strong enough to start a lawn mower; how he drinks it, I’ll never know. “So I want to know why you left, and I want to know what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.” He slides his eyes over to Wolf and eyes his cut. “You left our chapter for another?”
“It isn’t like that.” I rub my hand over my face, exhausted and fucking tired of explaining myself.
Wolf shrugs off his cut, and Badge lifts his brow. “I forgot I was wearing it. I want nothing to do with this fucking chapter. Burn it for all I care.”
Something inside me swirls and awakens, and Badge laughs. “Be careful what you wish for. Jenkins here loves the flame. Ain’t that right?” he says, flicking his lighter just to taunt me.
“I don’t care. Burn it.” Wolf leans against the wall, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and do exactly what Wolf says.
“Those are big words coming from a man who declared his life to the club. You took an oath. Taking that cut off isn’t as simple as that,” Badge says, taking out another cigarette.
“There should be fucking exceptions, Badge,” I say. “You have no idea what you’ve walked in on. We’re at war here.” I plop down in the chair and tap my knuckles against the table. “The AC chapter, they aren’t good, Badge. They bring disrespect to the Ruthless Kings’ name. I have four girls here who were going to be used up and then sold. They were chained in the basement of the clubhouse like fucking animals, shackled by their hands and feet, even a collar around their neck.” I motion to my neck with my hand.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Tongue sits up and stabs the nightstand, perching the knife he made
into the wood.
“What you’re saying is big. You know what happens if you aren’t telling the truth, and you take down another chapter,” Badge informs. “Why do you care? I thought MC life was beneath you, boy?”
“It wasn’t about that. You don’t understand, and I’m not going to waste my time explaining.”
“What he’s saying is true,” Wolf speaks up from behind me. “I took care of the girls the best I could, but the Prez here … they’re cruel son of bitches, and this isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this,” Wolf explains, but Tongue throws his blade, and I can hear the air slicing as it spins, heading right toward Wolf. It thuds into the wall next to his head, and Wolf is wide-eyed and starts to panic.
“You knew?” Tongue is in front of Wolf in no time. Tongue never misses when it comes to throwing his knife. I know he’s only playing with Wolf. He yanks the sharp steel out of the wall and holds it against Wolf’s throat. “You knew, and you did nothing. Why shouldn’t I cut your throat now and bathe in your blood?”
Wolf doesn’t say anything, and that only pisses Tongue off more.
“Tell me!” he roars, and spit flies into Wolf’s face.
“Tongue, it’s fine,” I say, warily stepping toward him like he’s a bear ready to attack. I need to be careful, or I might get a knife to the throat. “The club blackmailed him. They said if he didn’t do what he was told, they would take his sister and do the same thing they do to the girls they kidnap. They killed his mom when he disobeyed the first time. He only did what he thought was best to protect his sister. He made the girls stay, as unpleasant as it was, better than what it would have been had they been in anyone else’s care. He did his best,” I explain. I want Tongue to lower the knife. The tip of it is piercing Wolf’s neck, and a dribble of blood rolls down, pooling on his shirt.
“That true?” Tongue grunts, licking his lips as he stares at his weapon against another man’s skin. He wants to cut Wolf. I can see the desire to inflict pain in Tongue’s eyes. I have yet to meet someone who scares me as much as Tongue does.
Wolf nods, wincing when the knife pushes into his neck from the movement. It doesn’t go in deep, but enough to make more blood come out.
Tongue removes the knife and wipes it on his jeans. He nods at Badge, and Badge lets out a long, ‘This is bad’ breath. Badge runs his palm over his shaved head, the fuzz sounding like sandpaper. “This isn’t good. You know I have to call Reaper. I have to call in the club. What did you do; what happened? I need to know everything,” Badge says, slipping off his cut and shoving it in the drawer. Tongue follows his lead, hiding the fact that they’re MC. “And I want to know why I have to take off my cut.”
“These girls, they don’t need to be reminded. And Scarlett, if she were to…” I keep my mouth shut, and Badge nods in understanding. “You haven’t told her. Makes sense with what she’s been through. What all the girls have been through. How did you know to find them? I’m assuming the Prez didn’t just invite you inside.”
I shake my head. “No. I had no idea how much trouble they were in until Abigale, the girl who had been there the longest, showed up here at the hotel.”
“I dropped her off,” Wolf speaks up. “It was Scarlett’s idea, one of the other girls. Abigale was really sick, and Scarlett pointed out that the Prez might not like it if one girl got the other sick, but I had to make it believable. I was already on thin ice. Scarlett suggested I shoot Abigale, and Abigale agreed. I shot her in the shoulder and carried her out of the clubhouse. Homer, the guy who owns this place, I heard good things about him. I thought she’d be safe here. Abigale was the only chance for the girls to be found.”
“Abigale told me of their schedules and how they’re gone most of the morning and afternoon. I scoped out the place, and she was right. I made my way in and rescued all the girls. After, I may or may not have thrown a grenade…”
Tongue cackles, sounding like a hyena. Badge pinches the bridge of his nose and curses. “Doing that caused war, Jenkins.”
“Something that should’ve been started years ago,” Wolf states, pushing off the wall. “I don’t know how many women they’ve done this to, but they don’t just sell them. They rape them, drug them, use them, beat them, and if they’re too far gone, they kill them and burn the bodies so they can never be found. This entire city is afraid to cross the Ruthless Kings.”
I nod, thinking about how Homer said he still pays them. “They take most of Homer’s money. It’s why this place is such a shithole. They killed his wife too.”
Badge’s eyes swirl with anger. Tongue flips his blade in his hand, and I know they’re itching to take these fuckers down and disband this chapter. “We have to let Reaper know, Jenkins. You know all the chapters answer to him since Vegas is where it all started. If this is going on, he has to know.”
Which means Reaper and the rest of the MC will come into town, guns fucking blazing. “Can you just give me some time before you do that, please?” I need to somehow find the courage to tell Scarlett the truth about me, about where I’m from, who raised me.
“Only because Reaper and Sarah need their time before this bullshit slaps them in the face.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Sarah had a miscarriage a few hours after she read your letter. Believe me when I say you’re the last person Reaper wants to see, hear from, or think about. He told the entire chapter not to call you Boomer anymore if we were to speak to you again. He’s pissed. Sarah isn’t well. She’s in bed, depressed, and hasn’t moved for days.”
Worthless. Stupid. It’s all your fault. Kill yourself. You’re no good for anybody. They’ll be better off.
I grip my head when the thoughts take control again, and tears sting the back of my eyes. Over and over, non-stop on a loop, and I can’t take it anymore. I run out the door, blaming myself for ruining my sister’s life, and I head right toward the ocean.
Hoping like hell it swallows me up and never spits me out.
13
Scarlett
I wake up to the sound of shouting in the distance. I roll over, expecting to feel Boomer when cold sheets awaken my skin, causing me to finally open my eyes. The room is empty, and the cold dread of panic sets in. I’m alone. He left me alone.
The clock flashes one in the morning, and I push myself up, the mattress giving from my weight under my hands. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and get out of bed. My bladder is full, so I sleepily stumble in the bathroom to relieve myself. I wash my hands, splash some cold water on my face to wake up, and I pat my face dry with a hand towel hanging to the left on the silver handle. I take a good look at myself. I have a few bruises on my face, my cheeks are a bit chapped still, but I’m healing quickly. I guess it helps that I’m not sitting in a puddle of filth.
I hang the towel up and walk into the room, wondering where Boomer is. All of his stuff is still here, and I know he wouldn’t ever leave me. More shouts, frantic and loud, catch my attention. I take a chance and move the curtain slightly to see a few men I don’t recognize running toward the water.
Then I see Wolf running after them.
Fear grips me, telling me that something is very wrong. I don’t bother putting on pants, not when his shirt comes to my knees. I unlock the door and fling it open, smashing it against the wall on accident. It leaves a dent, and a few pieces of drywall hit the ground, but I don’t care. The wood of the porch is cold and grainy from the sand.
Nothing seems like it would be wrong. The beach is deserted, the stars are out, and the waves crash against the shore musically. It’s relaxing. A total contradiction of how these men are acting.
I jump off the porch and land in the sand, nearly sinking, and bolt. I pump my arms when I hear one of them yell “Jenkins” into the empty water. I think of the worst. No, this can’t be happening. He wouldn’t ever leave me, not like this. Then again, I don’t really know Boomer, do I? I know him as the savior, not as the man, and maybe the torment I saw in him earlier ha
s everything to do with why one man is diving into the ocean while the other wades out until the water is to his neck.
I pump my arms faster, and my breath is hard to come by. I’m already getting winded. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?” I shout at Wolf, who’s currently pacing up and down the shoreline calling for Boomer. “Wolf!” I tug on his arm to get his attention.
“I-I don’t know. Boomer just got some really bad news, and before we knew it, he ran into the ocean. We don’t know where he went.”
I turn to the vast sea, the ugly slick tendrils of fear gripping my heart. The water looks black, a large oil-colored pool where unknown oddities lurk. He can be anywhere. I’ve never been in the ocean before, but I’m willing to go in there for him. He saved me. The least I can do is be there for him.
“Boomer!” I scream out at the same time as a man calls for him. “Boomer, please!” I cry, pushing the water apart as if that will help, hoping I see something of the man that I’m growing to depend on. “Boomer, where are you?”
“Boomer,” the tall, scary man with murderous eyes says slowly, but loud enough to make me start looking in a different section of the water. I’m afraid the man might drown me if I get in his way.
“I got him!” another guy with a shaved head swims out further to a long figure floating in the water.
I cup my hands over my mouth and shake my head. “No! No, Boomer!” I’m about to dive into the water and swim out there myself to hold Boomer in my arms, to cradle him, to tell him he can’t leave me; not like this. Whatever is happening, I’ll be there for him. I’ll guide him, whatever I have to do.
He just needs to give me the chance to do it.
Wolf wraps his arms around me when the stranger swims forward, guzzling saltwater as he pulls Boomer behind him.
“Boomer.” His name is a long, broken sob leaving my lips, and the hope I felt is replaced by devastation. What can he despise so much that he wanted to end his life? Am I not enough? Aren’t the people who love him enough? “Let go of me.” I try to thrash out of Wolf’s hold when the stranger lifts Boomer into his arms, and the water cascades down them in sheets as he gets to his feet on the ocean floor and begins to walk.
