Captive (14 page)

I want to tell you some fairy tale shit like Adelyn placing her hand on my arm snaps me out of it, the sound of her voice in my ears wakes me up, but I think we’ve established fairy tales aren’t fucking real. And even if they were I wouldn’t deserve one, so unfortunately I can’t give you the happy ending you’re looking for. What I can tell you is that I’m now pinned against a brick wall out the back of Mo’s diner, surrounded by brothers Devil’s Spawn and Vengeance, and there’s a good chance I won’t be walking away from this confrontation. Not that I’d blame them for taking me out, I deserve nothing less. In fact I welcome it.

In my quest to get to Adelyn filled with anger and determination, I inadvertently did the one thing I didn’t want to do ever again…I hurt her. The brother wouldn’t let go. I thought I told him, warned him to take his hands off my woman, or at least I did in my head. I’m sure I gave him a chance to take his filthy fucking hands off the woman I consider mine. The one that’s carrying my baby. The woman I’d more than happily die for right now to prove how sorry I am, and how much I love her.

When he wouldn’t let her go I manhandled her. I grabbed her arm and yanked her toward me. I mustn’t have realised my own strength because instead of crashing into my body, like I intended, Adelyn flew past me hitting the table beside us, and then the floor below. They wouldn’t let me check on her. They wouldn’t let me see her, talk to her, apologise, nothing. They just walked me out here and subdued me the only way they could; arms pinned behind my back, face planted to the wall. Simple and effective. Exactly how I would’ve done it.

“You want to tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet in your good for nothing fucking head you piece of shit? You got a good reason why you saw fit to lay a hand on our girl, hurt her like you did? Because from where I’m standing my brother was giving our girl a hug, and you lost your shit, ending with you injuring an innocent pregnant woman who’s on her way to hospital to get checked out because you can’t keep your temper in check. That sound about right?” Boss growls close to my ear.

There’s no excuse for what I did, and I’m not going to bother trying to explain shit to him, it won’t change anything. I still hurt her, nothing’s going to change that, and if he doesn’t kill me the guilt will eat me alive anyway. No matter how this plays out I know I’ll pay for this, as I should.

“You want to take a step back from my brother, and put your goddamned guns away?” Priests voice booms from the end of the alley. Turning slightly I can see he’s followed by seven or so Devil’s Spawn brothers, and as one of my oldest friends I can tell his pissed right the fuck off.

“Yeah that’s no gonna happen, Priest. Your boy went a step too far this time, and we’re gonna have to settle up, no markers, no leeway on this one,” Boss replies curtly in an unforgiving tone.

“From what I’ve been told one of your boys had his hands on Reaper’s woman, refused to move them, and when he was forced to move them himself Reaper did so with too much force and Adelyn ended up hurt. I’m figuring my brother’s beating himself up enough over it that you won’t have to use a bullet to settle this.” When Boss goes to break in to Priest’s summarisation Priest lifts both hands in a placating gesture, showing he’s unarmed and not looking for further conflict. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have the opportunity to settle Boss, all I’m saying is how about you take it into the cage at the clubhouse, sort it out that way.” Nodding toward me Priest finishes with, “The way I see it, my brother isn’t going to put up much of a fight, and after we consider the slate clean, yeah?”

Boss takes a second to mull over the suggestion without letting me go. And after a few hushed words with Diesel and Fury he turns back to Priest, who’s now standing with Tank at his left and Pipe at his right, and says,

“No gloves, no time restrictions. He goes down and stays down, and I’ll consider us clear. You say she’s his woman I want confirmation, from her. Not saying I don’t trust you, but she’s not wearing a property patch, they’re not living together, and from what I’ve gathered and been told they haven’t spoken in months, so you’ll excuse the fuck out of me for needing a little more than your word this time, Priest.” He’s a smart man. Anyone can claim a woman is their property, and in this case that would’ve been enough to get me out of the shit if Adelyn were anyone else. But when it comes to her, she has some heavy hitters at her back, and Boss won’t be in the mood to believe shit unless it comes directly from the horse’s mouth.

“Fair enough. We’re in agreement then, we’ll meet you back at the clubhouse in twenty. After you’ve met with Reaper in the cage you can go talk to Adelyn and get the confirmation you need.”

Well, that settles it…I’m completely and utterly fucked. Not in the cage, I can more than hold my own in the cage regardless of the fact that I’ve got ten years on the man, and he’s got twenty pounds of muscle and an inch in height on me. No I’m fucked when Boss goes to see Adelyn and finds out Priest’s claim is bullshit. Funny thing is, I can’t bring myself to care. I hurt my Angel, and no amount of pain, no matter how much of my blood Boss spills is going to come even close to making up for that.

Wrong Side Of Heaven – Five Finger Death Punch

              Goddamn-Jesus-Christ-motherfucking-son-of-a-bitch! My head is aching, and the pounding behind my eyes is intensifying with every mile I drive. And yes, I know I shouldn’t be driving I’m not stupid, but I can name a few people who are. And I can also tell you those same people are about to see a side of me I save for very special occasions.

When I came to in the back of the ambulance I promptly freaked the hell out. I mean, hello, pregnant and all. With today being what it is, and the fact that my luck doesn’t seem to be all that great I may have flipped my shit. Just a little, but hey, can you blame me. After being checked over thoroughly, given an ultrasound, all with Steel standing sentry outside the door, the doctors were happy I hadn’t sustained a concussion, the baby was fine, and that I good to go. And go I did.

How I managed to slip out past Steel, some the Devil’s Spawn men Emily, and a few of the other Vengeance brothers I don’t know, but I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth, because there’s one thing I do know, and that’s that I have about ten minutes max before they work out I’m missing, and go searching for me. If I’m lucky I’ll make it to the clubhouse in time to stop this ridiculous pissing match Reaper and Boss have going on before I’m apprehended. Jesus. That makes me sound like a criminal.

It’s not like I actually broke myself out of lockup or anything, although I suppose it might as well have been if you take the number of guards I had into account. Seriously, you would think I was in a maximum security prison if you didn’t know any better. And albeit I appreciate the show of support, from some of the people that were present, I hardly think it’s necessary to have half he bikers in the state of Colorado watching over little old me. I mean, what could honestly go wrong, aside from my escape just now that is?

Taking the corner that leads to the clubhouse parking lot and front gates, I notice that for the first time ever they’re left open and unattended. Yay for me. That equals unencumbered entry, and means whoever was supposed to be manning the gate is ending up in the cage having their ass kicked next. Because it’s simple biker 101 to know you always have someone on guard at all times, someone to watch your six. Especially because in their world, things deteriorate from bad to worse in an instant. An apt description for exactly what’s about to happen when I get my hands on those two, if I don’t say so myself.

How do I know those two boneheads, Reaper and Boss are in the cage? Simple, I have ears. Bikers have two volumes and two volumes only; loud, and extra loud. It’s not their fault, it’s just that they’ve had their hearing modified by the roar of tailpipes, and needing to hear over the constant gossip that goes round the clubhouse on any given day. Trust me, it’s true. They’re worse than high school mean girls the way they bitch and moan, but in this instance, the chatty Cathy’s in the hallway actually had some useful information.

I’ve been in the Devil’s Spawn clubhouse a few times over the last almost two years, not recently, but before that I was here about once a month for something or other, so I know the layout relatively well. As soon as I walk through the doors of the main building, the one that holds houses the main kitchen, living quarters for position holding members, largest bar, and the infamous ‘Cage of Doom’, (well, I call it the cage of doom, I’m not sure what the others call it), I’m assaulted by the smell of stale beer, musk, leather, and skank. Ah, home sweet home. While the smells of a biker brothel would offend most women, to me it smells like safety, and protection…it smells like home.

All that time spent cleaning, arranging, living, and tattooing in the Vengeance clubhouse, the time I spent with the guys, the things I was taught, the way they took me in as one of their own has attuned my senses to automatically feel safe, and secure in place like this. It’s as if my mind makes the connection just after my senses have kicked in, telling me I’ll be safe here, and more importantly safe with them.

Now in light of recent events, I can see why you might be questioning my sanity a teeny tiny bit. Anger is a marvellous thing, it can pull you from the depths of despair and resignation back to the here-and-now, and it can do it as quickly as a hip meeting the corner of a table, and impacting with the floor. Anger gives you something to focus on, it gives you are reason to get up and fight back. And this might be just what the doctor ordered to get me back into the land of the living. Or maybe it’s not precisely what he ordered, but we’ll say he did for arguments sake of course, and this does sound an awful lot like bedrest doesn’t it? It does to me.

Contrary to popular belief, I am
not
the type of woman that goes down without a fight, and I do
not
enjoy being miserable. No one does. My behaviour over the last few months may have come across like I am in fact that person, but I can assure you, after years of ingrained abuse, people belittling everything that makes you, you, and violent act after violent act you tend to close off almost immediately as a form of self-preservation. It’s one thing to tell yourself not to, that you should break the cycle, get up, push back, but it’s another thing altogether actually following through with the advice that traitorous bitch of an internal voice gives you.

More often than not it takes an event, something to trigger you out of your stupor to recognise what you’re doing. That you can’t keep living that way. That over time you’ll wither away to nothing. Eventually there’ll be nothing left but the shell of a person that once overcame much worse, and ended up failing at a minor hurdle. That’s what today did for me. It woke my ass up, and proved that regardless of what people think of me, how they judge me and my choices, I’m better than that. I have something, someone to live for, and enough is most certainly enough.

No more laying down and taking my beatings like the obedient dog I trained myself to be. No more cowering away from confrontation. No. I’m going to give these two idiots a piece of my mind, and then I’m going to get my shit together and decide what in the hell I’m going to do with my life next. I’m done with people dictating to me what path my life is going to take. I’m fucking over people deciding my fate for me. It’s time to take my destiny into my own hand, and that starts with what I’m about to do next.

In the back corner of the sprawling building is the Cage of Doom. It’s surrounded by brothers from both clubs, some of the old ladies, and a few of the ever present club whores too. Oh goody. This should make for excellent viewing for them all. As I make my way closer I get raised eyebrows, open mouthed stares, a few glares mixed in, and a whole lot of angst. Whatever. These people can kiss my ass, I’m done with them too. Anyone that has the audacity to judge me when they don’t know my history, where I come from, what I’ve lived through isn’t worth my time. The only thing that saddens me is that my first impressions of them were so wrong. So very, very wrong.

I don’t have time to dwell on that when I hear the unmistakeable sound of flesh meeting flesh. Grunts of exertion echo around the cavernous space, and random isolated cheers rise from the crowd. Spotting Lou, Kendall, and V gives me a relatively good idea of which section of the cage to avoid. The last thing I need is another altercation with Lou, and I’m banking on her being restrained by her two slightly more reasonable friends.

By the time I’ve pushed through brothers and spectators, making my way to the entry to the cage, the sight that greets me turns my stomach. I fight down the urge to vomit, swallowing back bile at the scene in front of me.

Both Reaper and Boss are shirtless, covered in sweat, and sporting various shaped red marks from each other’s fists. Blood is steadily dripping from a cut above Reaper’s eyebrow, and Boss has a matching wound of his own on the left side of his lip. They are circling like predators, waiting for the other to attack, so they can assess their weakness, what will make them fall. Well, more fool them because they’ve delivered their last blows.

Climbing the six stairs I rip the cage door open and scream,

“What in all that’s fucking holy do you think you’re doing?”

They turn sharply at the sound of my voice. Boss’ eyes are searching, scanning for injuries, he’s assuring himself I’m okay before he launches into some long winded tirade about why my ass is out of hospital. But Reaper’s on the other hand; his eyes show nothing but concern, guilt, and worry. They’re softer than I’ve ever seen them before, and albeit I’m angry, I can’t help feel a little sorry for the weight he’s carrying on his conscience.

“Addie, get the fuck out of the cage. You shouldn’t be here in the first place. Go home and wait for me there.”

He’s kidding right? Wrong. Boss is an overbearing asshole, he always has been, always will be. Most of the time it’s one of the things I love about him, but not today. Propping my hands on my hips I say,

“Sure, I’ll get right on that. Right after you put your fucking shirt on, get out of this damn cage, on your bike, and ride your stubborn ass back Furnace like the hounds from hell are on your tail.”

I hear a few chuckles, and I know it’s not good form to be doing this with company, but I’m so pissed off I don’t worry about the consequences. I’ll deal with them when they happen. A month of the silent treatment is about what this little stunt will earn me from him.

“Adelyn Pippa London,” he says in his older brother, I’m your keeper tone. “Get your little ass out of the cage, and go the fuck home. Last warning. That or I’ll get Fury to remove you. Your choice, sweetheart.”

He can sound as stern as he likes, it’s not going to happen.

“Have at it. I can assure you Fury will make it about as far as I can throw him before I kick his ass, and yours for trying that shit with me.”

Now before you say it, I know this crosses a line, but what am I supposed to do. The closest thing I have to a brother, aside from Diesel, is delivering a beating to the man that is the father to my unborn baby. Someone has to stop it, and by the looks of it no one here has any intention of doing it, so I do the only thing that I can when faced with a situation such as this. I pull my Glock from my purse that’s slung over my shoulder, check the chamber, and flick the safety off. Extreme, but necessary measures remember.

Brandishing the gun around like it’s an extension of my hand I say,

“Look, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way.” The air in the room goes wired. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out everyone is considering the blowback for killing a clearly psychotic pregnant woman holding a firearm. In all reality I don’t blame them for thinking it, but what they don’t know is I could unload my clip before one of them get off a single shot.

Thankfully both men simply stare at me slack jawed not moving a muscle, because seriously, I’m not sure I could have physically overpowered either of them in my current state. Regardless of my size, usually I could get them down in three moves, but even though my baby belly is still small it’s thrown off my center of gravity something fierce. I’d be willing to bet I’d fall over just making my way across the cage, let alone getting a bitch fight with either of them.

“You,” I say pointing to Boss, “Can either get dressed and walk out of here remembering to thank the fine hosts of this Neanderthal beat down, or I can shoot you in the knee cap. You’ll still be able to ride, but it’s going to hurt like a bitch. Dealers choice.”

Pointing at Reaper now, I give him his options. “And you, you can get dressed, clean yourself up, and grow a pair of balls and a brain because you’re going to be a father all over again soon, or I can shoot you in your right shoulder so you won’t be able to jerk off anytime soon. That too will hurt like a bitch. But I’m willing to bet what will hurt more is the lack of attention your cock going to see from your hand this side of Christmas.”

It feels like a wait an age for someone to move, say something, or even breathe. But the silence is finally broken when Boss throws his head back bursting out with a full belly laugh, causing me to audibly sign in relief. Of all the reactions he could have had, I didn’t think that would be the one he’d go with, but hey, I’m not going to complain. It could’ve been worse, he could have done something stupid like he used to when he wanted to humiliate me. His signature move was loudly and publically announcing that I’m a lesbian because I haven’t had the pleasure of worshipping at the altar of his amazing cock. I know childish, yet surprisingly effective. In this case I’m glad he didn’t revert to saying anything like that though. I can only imagine that would’ve gone over like a lead balloon, especially considering the condition I’m currently in.

As amused as Boss is, Reaper looks anything but. If I had to put a label on it, I’d say he’s infuriated mixed with a good deal concerned. Why he’d be concerned I have no clue, he hasn’t given me the time of day in months. And given his recent behaviour, as in, beating the shit out of a member of my family, and trying, albeit unsuccessfully to intimidate Cash, he can kiss my slightly bigger pregnant ass.