Sons of Mayhem 2 Chaser (Sons of Mayhem Novels, #2) (4 page)

“I’m sorry ma’am there’s nothing we can do to help you.” He didn’t sound sorry. “You have a good day now.”

“But you saw his bike outside in the driveway!”

He was already heading out the door and his voice was muffled as he walked away. “So he didn’t want to drink and drive. Good. Now leave your ex alone. You take care now.”

I stood there silently shaking as I watched the deputy exit my home. My new place suddenly seemed a lot less safe, a lot less comfortable than it had just 24 hours previously. I scanned the room fearfully.
He
had been in here. Inside my home, the home I had made thousands of miles away from him.

I couldn’t stand to stay in there knowing he could be back at any minute, and anyway, I needed help, and I guessed Red did too. It seemed my one night stand would be taking up a lot more of my time than is traditional in a wham-bam-thankyou-ma’am one night fuckathon.

So when the cops let you down, where else is there left for a girl like me to go? Shit, I didn’t know anyone here yet anyway apart from a bartender or two and the nice lady in the grocery store. And people from my past? They were all
long
gone, my ex had made damn sure of that.

There was no other choice. It was time to meet these Sons of Mayhem.

K
aren

“Her! She’s the one who dragged Red away last night!” said a scruffy looking young guy in a Metallica t-shirt, gesticulating at me. I vaguely remembered him arriving with Red initially, before I separated him away. This one hadn’t been my type, too scrawny and greasy for me.

A man with a tear drop tattoo under his right eye gave me an appraising look. Now
this guy
was more my type. He had a smart, cocky look in his eyes and he moved with a flexible wiriness that hinted at a well-muscled, though not too huge, torso underneath his leather. Apart from the tattoo on his face he was quite good looking. Don’t get me wrong, I like me some tattoos (all the more so since my ex detested them), but I’ve never really gone for ones that are actually on the face.

Still, when he flashed me a polite smile of greeting and I saw his eyes flicker over my body I was pleased.

Teardrop seemed to be in charge of the ragtag group of bikers and hangers on strung around the room. I hoped they were as tough as their reputation.

“So, what’d you do with Red?” He lifted his chin as he asked the question, a piece of body language I’d soon be used to.

Although my poker face didn’t show it I grinned internally as I thought about what I’d done with Red the night before. But of course
that
wasn’t what he had meant. My momentary amusement at the appropriateness of the question disappeared as the video I had seen that morning flashed across my mind, again, for the hundredth time since I’d seen it.

I decided to keep it simple. “He came back to my house last night, but he left before I woke up. His motorcycle was still in my driveway this morning. I think he’s been kidnapped.”

The bikers looked at each other with
what the fuck
incredulous faces, as if they couldn’t fathom leaving a motorcycle behind. I wondered if they even believed me.

“Who the hell would want to kidnap that little asshole?” asked a heavy-set man with a raspy voice.

The leader let out a little high pitched laugh. “I don’t know, T-Bone. But I’m guessing the little lady has a theory.”

I nodded and stepped toward him, offering a hand. “It’s Karen.”

“Karen huh? Pretty name.” His eyes ran over me, pausing at my chest. “Pretty girl. You can call me Bottle.” He grasped my hand with his and squeezed it firmly. His handshake was warmer than I expected, and after the clammy grasp of the dick-head sheriff that morning it was reassuring. “This here is T-Bone, and the scrawny little bitch is Twist.”

I shook each of their hands politely, amused at our good manners. It’s a fucked up town when the local biker gang gives a better first impression than its law enforcers, I thought, but then again, maybe a fucked up town suited a fucked up girl like me.

After we exchanged our greetings he indicated for me to sit down on a beat up wooden chair next to a hardwood table covered in scars and burns from years of serving the rough inhabitants of the place.

“Drink?”

I sure as hell wanted one. “Gotta beer?”

He shook his head in a gesture of amused disbelief and grinned. “I meant a soda or something. It’s not even midday.” He paused just a moment. “Fuck it.” He raised his chin in the direction of the younger biker with the greasy hair, the one from last night. “Twist! Don’t just stand there numb-nuts, get us some beers.”

Was it really not yet midday? It seemed so much later. I shrugged internally, who the fuck cares. A smile crossed my lips.

“Something funny?” asked Bottle, not unkindly. His eyes had a twinkle, like he wanted to be included in the joke.

“No, not really. I was just thinking about what the hell I’m doing in a biker clubhouse drinking beer before midday. It’s not exactly how I thought life would turn out.”

“Regrets?”

“Countless.”

He laughed. “Don’t we all.”

The young guy, Twist, who barely seemed out of adolescence had scurried off at Bottle’s command. It must be nice to have people to boss around like that,
get me a beer, pass me the remote, bring me a sandwich
.

“I take it you’re in charge here then?”

“The president is away right now, so yes, it’s me you’ve got to impress at the moment. Now what did you do with my prospect?”

I sighed. It was time to explain what was going on. At least, what I
thought
was going on. “My ex is a fuckin’ psycho. I came here to get away from him. I’ve only been here a couple of weeks, but I think he’s found me.”

Bottle took two beers from the returning prospect and passed one over to me. “So? What’s that got to do with Red?”

I took a sip of the beer. I needed it, and it went down smoothly. “My ex is... ‘possessive’ would be one way of putting it. I prefer what I said before though — he’s a fuckin psycho. He thinks I belong to him, and if he thinks I’m seeing someone else? Well. I don’t think he’s happy.”

Bottle frowned. “So you think this nut-job kidnapped Red? Why? What’s he going to do with him?”

I shook my head slowly and bit my lip. “To be honest, I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years. My ex, I mean. But I don’t think he has anything good in mind.”

T-Bone, who I didn’t realize was still listening let out a low growl to clear his throat before saying, “What makes you think it’s him?”

I told them about how that morning I’d found a USB containing a video of me and Red together in my room.

“A video, huh? What were you guys doing? Maybe we need to know, y’know?” asked Twist.

Bottle smacked him on the arm as I replied, “I don’t think you’re old enough to hear about that.”

The other men laughed and Twist’s face took on a dejected hang dog look as I shot him down.

Bottle gave me a look. “You got sass. I like that.”

I met his look and took another sip of beer. Bottle did the same and then our eyes met again. For the first time I noticed the emerald green color of his pupils and the hint of a calculating intelligence lurking underneath, as if he was constantly trying to figure something out. Maybe he was trying to figure me out, though he’d need to be a fucking genius to do that — I didn’t have me figured out, let alone anyone else. There was more to this rough looking man than first appearances would suggest, and I liked it.

T-Bone let out a cough before returning to the questioning. “So, what? He sneaked into your house, set up a hidden camera, made a video, kidnapped Red, and then had a package ready for you by morning?”

I shrugged my shoulders and nodded. “I guess. He’s pretty smart.”

“Why the fuck would he do all that?” asked T-Bone.

I downed the rest of my beer in a long, cool, swallow before answering. “To scare me? To fuck with me? To show me that I can’t escape him?” Tears began to well up in the corners of my eyes. “To show me that he’s the boss, that’s he’s cleverer than me, that I’m a fuckin’ idiot for trying to get away from him?” I tried to conceal a sob but couldn’t. It was all too much.

I don’t know what the fuck was wrong with me. I’d been keeping it together so well. Shit, I’d even been cracking jokes. Next thing I know, I’m getting all emotional. I thought I had that shit under control, but I didn’t. Not at all. I was still all kinds of fucked up. Not surprising though really, when you consider what I’ve been through.

T-Bone raised his eyes and shook his head before disappearing from my view towards the clubhouse’s bar. I guess he didn’t care to deal with my tears. Bottle reached forward and squeezed my shoulder awkwardly, his powerful fingers applying just a bit too much pressure, as if he too wasn’t used to comforting women.

Bottle was leaning in closer to me when he spoke again. “Don’t cry hon’, your douche-nozzle of an ex has fucked up bad. He doesn’t know who he was fucking with when he took our boy.”

I sniffed and looked up as I sensed a large mass approaching. T-Bone came back into view with a bottle of whisky, a pile of glasses and a stack of paper napkins. I guess
that
is how he deals with crying women. I wondered what else he uses whisky to deal with.

Twist nodded his head at me as he spoke, his voice earnest, “We’ll get this fuckhead for you Karen.”

Bottle gave him a look. I wasn’t exactly sure what kind of look it was, but Twist looked cowed again. There was a definite pecking order in this crew, and Twist was at the bottom of it. I think it was because of the way he’d said
we
.

As T-Bone placed the glasses and whisky on the table he shoved a handful of napkins across the table at me with a meaty paw. I grabbed a couple gratefully and gently dabbed around my eyes, not wanting to ruin my makeup.

I’m an idiot
, I realized. I hadn’t even put on any makeup that morning. Instead I’d fled my house in a panic and rushed off to the sheriff’s office. I unfolded another napkin and wiped across my face aggressively, removing any traces of tears except for my reddened eyes, before blowing my nose.

I sat back in my chair, feeling more composed, when I heard an engine roar outside as it approached the clubhouse, before turning silent.

Bottle, T-Bone and Twist looked toward the door expectantly. A moment later it swung open and as the light poured in from outside it silhouetted a man framed in the doorway as he looked around before entering.

“Gauge! Get the fuck in here.”

The big, shaven-headed man approached us chewing a toothpick which poked out of the corner of his goateed mouth. He gave me an appraising look which seemed to peer right through my clothes, my skin, my flesh to my soul. I let out an involuntary shudder.

“Trouble?” His gravelly voice carried a hint of concerned menace as his eyes flicked across the men at the table, to me, and the whisky between us.

Bottle nodded. “Sit down.” He  poured four glasses of whisky. When he finished he gave a moment’s hesitation, and poured another one for Twist. The young man’s face beamed as he was included.

I grasped my glass tightly and enjoyed the burn of the amber liquid as I took a sip. Bottle started to explain what was going on to Gauge.

After the disinterest at the sheriff’s office that morning, I finally felt like something might be done. As long as my asshole ex had their prospect, they’d be out to get him. They were on my side, for now at least.

I gave a grim smile to myself as I took another sip of whisky, and listened to them talk about how they were going to rip that fucker’s throat out. Good, I thought to myself, rip his goddamned throat out,
rip him the fuck apart.

B
ottle

Red light means it on right?

Shit, I got this down.

––––––––

W
ell shit. Jase had been gone less than an hour and this chick with eyes that broadcast crazy showed up. When she walked in I knew she would be trouble. Who the fuck goes into a biker clubhouse before it’s even mid-fuckin-day? Someone who wants something, that’s who.

I would have told her to get the fuck out, but then she said her trouble somehow involves our boy, Red. That and she was easy on the eyes. She says it’s her fault our prospect Red has gone AWOL. Fuck, that’s all I need right now, right?

When she told me she’d gone home with Red the night before I had a moment, just a moment mind, of jealousy. She was a piece of ass, that’s for sure. Lucky Red. Or, not so lucky Red as it turned out. But damn, I wouldn’t mind a go on that ride.

Not an hour before she rolled in Jase had asked me to check out the two prospects, Red and Twist, and now the little asshole Red has got himself kidnapped. How long have we got to get him back? Fucked if I know. Jase should be back in a couple of weeks, but he’ll probably call before then, right?

So I’ve gotta get Red back ASAP. Preferably in one piece. And shit, this asshole who’s kidnapped him? He’s going to need to be dealt with. Seriously.

What a start to the fuckin’ week. I never got why people hated Mondays so much, but now I know. Fuck.

Still, we should be glad of one thing - the incompetence of the fuckin’ sheriff. She told us about how she’d gone there first, before us, but they’d just blown her off. “He’s a fuckin asshole, the sheriff.” She’d said. We all just laughed and nodded. It’s funny how someone who’s only been in town a couple of weeks already knows that.

Now I’ve gotta get Red back before Jase finds out. If he hears what’s going on he’ll be back quick-sharp. No, I want the first Jase hears about it to be when we’re telling him how we caught this fucktard and saved Red. And the sooner that happens the better.

K
aren

It was a hell of a lot brighter outside than I remembered. After the gloomy interior of the biker’s ‘social club’ I had to stand by the entranceway and blink a few times while my eyes adjusted. My sunglasses were at home.

“Let’s go,” said Gauge.