The Run (The Hell's Disciples MC Book 4) (23 page)

Back out in the chaos, sitting on a bench with Lil and Sam, I’ve noticed that the party has taken a turn. It’s late, creeping towards three in the morning. Things have gone from fun to belligerent, louder and crazier.

Shouting a few feet away catches my attention. Three men standing by an old shed are hollering at each other. One’s pointing his beer accusingly at the other. The third guy is shaking his head while the woman standing near him gets wild, whipping her head from side to side.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Lil mutters next to me, shaking her head sadly.

“Here we go,” Sam adds, putting her head in her hands. Before I can add anything, someone shouts, “Fuck you,” and shit kinda falls apart from there. One man shoves at the other, a beer is dropped, and the woman yells out something I can’t understand, but she sounds pretty mad. A fist is thrown, followed by another. More shoving and shouting, and then the girl is in on it.

The guys are wrapped around each other, beating the living shit out of one another. Fists fly, followed by, “You fucked my old lady,” and “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

It only gets worse. The woman cries, leaping onto one guys back. “Stop it, Jack. You’re gonna kill him.” Oh hell, he might actually kill him. In a headlock, this Jack guy punches the other guy repeatedly in the face.

Getting up from my seat, I watch the fight go from buddies brawling to bar fight. “What are you doing?” Lil asks, but I’m moving before I can stop myself. The big guy, Jack, hauls off and slaps the woman. Her ass lands in the dirt with a loud cry.

For a couple of years, when I was about eight, my mom had a boyfriend who liked to smack her around when he drank. I hated it then and I hate it now. At least now I can help.

Walking over to the mess of flying fists, I crouch down by the woman, trying to keep myself out of the line of fire.

“Are you okay?” I ask her. She’s sobbing, holding her cheek, and rocking back and forth in the dirt.

“He’s gonna kill him,” she cries. Yeah, he might, but if she moves, she won’t be next.

“You gotta get up. They’ll work it out,” I tell her, pulling on her elbow. She goes to stand, but Jack turns his attention on her.

“You fucked my brother, you stupid bitch.” Reaching behind his back, he pulls a knife. Oh shit. “I should fuckin’ kill you too. Knew you’d fuck me over.” Waving the knife around, I stare, stuck, waiting for the inevitable.

12 - Knives, Guns, and Friends

Buck

That stupid motherfucker pulled a knife, or should I say, dead motherfucker? I swear to Christ, some assholes just never learn. Ten feet away from removing Lennon from a bad situation, things take a fucking dive towards dangerous when he starts waving that Bowie around, pointing it in her general direction and shouting, looking completely unhinged.

I know if I bum rush him, he’ll start stabbing blindly, and I’ll likely catch it. Fucker is ruining my goddamn night.

Sitting on the ground next to that stupid bitch Tammy, Lennon is trying to comfort her, but little does she know, this kinda shit happens all the time. Jack is a goddamn lunatic, and his old lady is just as crazy. She fucks anyone with a cock and he slaps her around for it. It’s their thing. Right or wrong, it’s their business, and their business now involves Lennon, who is my business.

Fuck, Lennon is too sweet for her own damn good, helping that broad out without a second thought; sitting there with her, comforting her the best she can. Lennon’s heart is the size of Texas and I swear to God, in this situation, it’s going to get her sliced up.

“Jack has lost his fuckin’ mind,” Rock yells, following after me. Walking right into the mix, I look at Jack and warn him one time. “Put that shit down. Go get a beer and calm the fuck down.” But of course, he doesn’t listen to me. Why would he when waving knives around is a much better idea?

“Fuck you,” he screams, “and fuck you, bitch. You are my old lady!” This has been fun, but I’m done with the stupid shit.

Tossing a look over my shoulder to Dan, he jerks his chin up and walks off. Jack might be a brother, and he might be a friend when his head isn’t so far up his drunk ass, but I’ll do what I gotta do to keep Lennon safe and breathing. I have two fucking rules when it comes to her; keep that pussy wet and her pretty heart beating. I might be all in for my brothers, but tonight just isn’t Jack’s night.

Pulling my gun, I take aim. I don’t give it a second. I blow a nice little hole right through Jack’s right arm. The bullet tears a quarter-size hole in the dickhead’s arm. Blood, tissue, and a little meat make a mess on Tammy’s face. I warned him.

He drops the knife instantly. Clutching his arm, he starts shouting shit that doesn’t make any sense. Blood drips from his little flesh wound, landing on the dirt at his feet, as he dances around, screaming at me.

Walking over to Lennon, I scoop her ass up, throw her over my shoulder, and walk off to Jack shouting death threats at my back. He can kill me later. Right now, I’m ready to go home. With a few stitches, some booze, and a little pussy, that motherfucker will be kissing my ass for keeping him alive long enough to slap Tammy around again. Point a knife at my girl, you’re lucky you don’t end up dead and buried deep in the woods behind my house.

“You just shot that guy,” Lennon says, awe and confusion in her voice as she bounces around over my shoulder. And I’d do it again. Jack wasn’t the first, and he sure as shit won’t be the last. Why the fuck does she think I’ve got so many acres? The more acres, the more plots I have to bury the bodies.

“And he just waved a knife in your face,” I counter. Too sweet.

“That was intense.” That was nothing. His brains splattered all over her pretty little dress would’ve been intense. That was nothing, but a little lesson in respect for Jack’s disrespectful ass.

Walking through the party, I find Dan standing out front. Drinking a beer, he sends off some brothers with a wave, their bikes tearing out of the lot. Catching me, he looks at us, Lennon’s bare ass in the air. I could give a fuck less at this point. 

“You handle it?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

“He shot him in the arm,” Lennon says to Dan, humor in her voice.

Looking at Lennon, Dan smirks, “Oh yeah?” Fuck, he’s humoring her.

“Yeah. It was ... interesting,” she mutters. “Just blew a hole in his arm. It was pretty gross.”

“Take her home, brother,” Dan laughs, sending us on our way.

Setting Lennon on her feet, she sways a little. I’ve no idea how much she’s had to drink, but from the cute little sway in her hips, I’m gonna guess a few.

“You gonna make it, darlin’?” I place the helmet on her head.

“Yep,” she says, letting her head bob around. “Don’t worry about me.” Too late for that shit. I’m in too deep now.

“Lets go home, babe.”

“Okay,” she agrees, crawling on the bike behind me. Yeah, I’m so ready to get the fuck home with Lennon.

“Hang on, darlin’.”

Lennon and I have fallen into a weird domestic routine. We spend half the damn day together, and in the evenings, she’s at the house, cooking and waiting for me. She’s everywhere. Wherever I go, she goes, and I like it that way. On my bike, in my bed, and in my life, I like her here with me.

We fit, Lennon and I. I’ve never been comfortable with someone else the way I am with her. Somehow, we’ve worked out and I’m good with it.

It’s been a week since the party and not a damn thing has changed. She’s still here and she’s still in my space, but this time around, I get to fuck her, which makes this roommates thing so much fucking sweeter. There’s nothing better than a happy woman in your life, offering up pussy and a hot meal on a daily basis, not to mention her full attention.

This shit could be why Tank and Mossy are always so goddamn happy. It’s kinda nice having someone around all the time who actually gives a fuck about you, and wants to spend time with you. Lennon is always happy to see me, always there when I need her to be. Someone might say that’s why I’ve got a dog, but I’m not interested in fucking my dog or sleeping in the same bed as him. Lennon is where it’s at for me. 

But not tonight. No, tonight I’m down at the Y, when I’d much rather be at home with Lennon.

“So what are we gonna do?” Dan asks, gnawing on his cigar, chomping angrily away at the thing. “We’ve exhausted all possibilities. Anyone got anything else?” Running an agitated hand through his slicked back black hair, I realize that the asshole resembles Gomez Addams in some weird way.

“Come on, motherfuckers,” he huffs, pinning us all with a hard stare.

Five weeks ago, we lost a brother. No body and no cut. The only thing we have as proof is a picture of a mangled body, wearing a Hell’s Disciples cut, sent to Dan’s cell from a goddamn Road Raiders phone, but still, phones can be hacked or stolen. Money has come up missing, and now someone’s been seen digging around outside the club, wearing a Raiders patch, but it’s not enough to act just yet. This could be them, or someone trying to make it look like them. We have to be sure.

We spitball, tossing around ideas, but nothing’s coming. Sure, we’ve got enemies, rival clubs, and your average Joe might hate us, but no one is out for blood at the moment, except for the Raiders. They’re looking to expand and looking for new territory. They might’ve grown some balls, and finally decided to come after us.

“Buck, your girl showed up about the time all this shit started happening,” Ben snaps, catching me off guard with his stupid fucking suggestion. Looking at him, he’s looking like he’s got it all figured out.

“What are you trying to say?” Because if it’s what I think it is, I will break his goddamn face.

“Just sayin’. She showed up right about the time all this shit started happenin’. What do you even know about the bitch?” Not much, but I’m not admitting that out loud.

“I hope to fuck you’re not suggesting its Lennon doing this shit.” I notice the volume of my voice is rising the more I think about his accusation. Lennon might be wild, and I might not know a fuck of a lot about her, but I do know she wouldn’t be doing this shit. That girl couldn’t slice anyone up, especially the way our brother was. 

“Might not be her doin’ it, but you ever think that bitch might be an informant or a damn snitch?” Ben has got some balls. As the newest Disciple, he’s pushing his fucking luck.

“First, you call her a bitch again, I’m knocking your goddamn teeth out. Two, leave Lennon the fuck out of this.”

Tank trusted her enough to bring her around his place. Dan trusted her enough to let her stay here, and I trust her enough to let her live in my fucking house. All I know is, “Lennon isn’t doing shit.”

Lennon

Standing on the porch, I listen to the wind howl through the branches. Watching the trees around the house bow and sway in the windy weather, I soak it all in. I do love a good storm. Leaves and pine needles swirl around at my feet, leaving little messes of discarded greenery everywhere. A misty rain blows around, whipping my hair into my face. I fight to keep it down, and from sticking to my forehead. Breathing in the cool breeze, I fill my lungs full before stepping off the porch.

“Hey, buddy.” I pat Bill’s head, who’s sitting at my feet. He watches the trees with me, content to stay right here, but not me. No, I’m ready to run. I need to go.

Buck has been gone all day now. He left at sunrise. It’s now late afternoon, and I have no clue when he’ll be back. I’m done waiting on him. Plus, we’re out of edible food up here on the mountain. There’s a lifetime supply of jerky and canned food in the pantry, but it’s just not doing it. I desperately need a phone and something to do.

Staring at the key ring hanging on a nail in the shop, I get the feeling Buck wouldn’t mind too much if I borrowed his truck. I mean, Buck didn’t specifically tell me to stay here, and he didn’t hide his keys from me. So, I figure why not? He’s not using the truck. I don’t plan on wrecking it either, so I don’t think it’ll bother him if I run a few errands. It’s not like I’m joyriding or anything.

Snatching the key off the nail, I tuck it into my pocket and make a run for the truck through the rain. Feet clomping through the mud puddles, I make it without making too much of a mess. Flinging the door open, I leap into the monster. Getting comfortable in the driver’s seat of the old black Chevy, I fire it up, letting the engine rumble to life. The old beast growls and grumbles with age, and protests the cold weather.

I feel ya, old guy.

Staring at the gear shifter, I search my mind for a lesson I had when I was fourteen, hoping like hell I remember a fraction of what I was taught. Three on a tree. Only three gears to work with. It shouldn’t be too difficult, right?

Bumping and rocking down the dirt road, it takes me about ten minutes before I can roll out of first gear and speed up. Jesus, this truck is high off the ground. I can barely see over the damn steering wheel, I think as I straighten my back to get a better look over the hood. It doesn’t help that it’s been a long fucking time since I’ve driven anything.

My drive takes me a while, but before long, I’m off the gravel road and I’m on the highway with the sign of ‘The Y,’ looming off in the distance.