Bull (Reapers MC Book 7) Read online

  Now I’m the one laughing. “Hell no. I’d be one of those who get sued all the time for sayin’ shit they shouldn’t. We all know I’m a blunt fucker.”

  “True,” Roxy sucks in her bottom lip for a moment, giving me a feeling she’s contemplating something. “Bull, I got some intel about the Bears. I’m not sure if it’s accurate or not considering the source is questionable, but someone needs to tell Zane.”

  “Alright. Spit it out,” I say.

  “I went into town to grab some groceries. Guess who I saw but Blossom talkin’ to some shady looking fuck. She told him how rumor has it the Bears are holding up in Big Horn, Wyoming at some abandoned bar on the edge of the National Forest.”

  Cocking a brow I ask, “And you haven’t told anyone this?”

  “No. I wanted us to all have a good night. Promise me you won’t tell him until tomorrow. We all know the Bears are as dumb as a doornail and won’t move. They don’t have a clue we know a damn thing, either.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. We need this night but protecting the club and the people in it are of the utmost importance.”

  “I don’t disagree with you. I’m only saying we’ve had awful things happen too much lately. So, I’m asking you, begging you to please wait until tomorrow to tell Zane. Go off on this run after the club has a night of fun, has re-energized and boosted their morale.”

  “I don’t want to keep this from anyone, Roxy.” I say, not holding back how I feel. I agree we need a night like this but keeping shit from Zane will only put me on his shit list.

  “You’re not keeping anything from anyone. You’re simply telling them later than you originally would. Bull, just do this. I’ve been in the club for many moons. Trust that I know what I’m doing.”

  I have two options here. I either tell Zane and have Roxy hate me for not taking her seriously and trusting her. Or I have Zane bitching up a storm because I listened to his aunt versus doing what I know is the right thing. Fuck me sideways. I hate being put in positions like this.

  Screw it all. I’m always the bad guy in someone’s story. I’ll just act like Roxy never said a damn thing to me. That is, until the morning. Then I’ll go straight to my Prez and let him know what’s up.

  It may not be hunting season in Montana, but it’s always open season for the Reapers MC.

  5

  “I am the me I choose to be.”

  ~Sidney Poitier

  Bull

  I bet it’s been years since Fist’s house has been jam packed with people like this. Every party we ever had was in the clubhouse, but since that’s gone now we’re here. Zane is over in the corner chatting with Zorro. Shiloh’s laughter causes me to turn and glance over to the kitchen and I see her laughing ridiculously at something Hammer must’ve just said. Shoot. I’m not a fool, but there’s some sort of gut feeling I have tellin’ me those two are gonna get together. Now I’m not cupid or anything close but I have a good sense of intuition.

  Looking around the room I see all the men who shared a bed with her are here. Zorro stays where he is, meanwhile Grim takes a few steps toward Hammer but Tex places a hand on his chest. Axel seems the most relaxed out of the bunch, shaking his head where he’s seated on the couch, so I make my way over to Tex and Grim.

  “You need to hold it together, man.” Tex informs him, obviously trying to diffuse the situation.

  “I wanna rip his fuckin’ throat out for even makin’ her smile like that. She just threw us to the side and now she’s over there chatting it up with Hammer, bein’ all flirty and shit? How isn’t that supposed to rub me the wrong way?”

  “Listen, we’ve all been where you are brother. There’s a right way to act and an awful one. If we let you walk over there the only thing that’ll happen is this party will be over and everything will be made into some damn bullshit. None of us need any of that. You hear me?” Placing my hand on his shoulder I apply pressure, giving him an urging squeeze. He might be one of my brothers, but I have no problem laying him out across the floor if it means he’ll fuck with the night.

  “How dare she,” Grim hisses out. His face is flushed red and I glance down and see an almost empty beer bottle in his hand. I’ve known Grim for a few years now and he’d never say anything like this if he were sober.

  Pushing on him lightly, I make his back go into the wall. While the movement was light I made sure to apply plenty of force. If I were too rough everyone around us would catch wind of the intense situation unfolding. “Brother, Shiloh can do whatever she damn well pleases. None of you fuckers ever claimed that woman. Instead you fuckin’ used her like she’s a slut.” We all know Shiloh is a clubwhore . . . but it doesn’t mean you have to treat them a certain way. Everyone deserves respect if you ask me. If they wanted this situation to be different any one of them could’ve claimed her. Hell, the lot of them could’ve. I’ll be damned if these men try to play the victim here.

  “She was ours,” he argues.

  Shaking my head, I disagree even further with him. “No, she wasn’t. Shiloh belongs to the club. She doesn’t belong to any man. As much as you’d like to think that way, it simply isn’t true. Now I’m only gonna say this once. You need to get your shit together.”

  Grim growls like a rabid animal as he pushes his way past me. Tex and I give one another a concerned look but both sigh in relief as Grim goes out the front door. “Thank goodness. I thought the evening was going to turn sour pretty quick.” He admits.

  “You weren’t the only one. Looks like Grim had a few drinks. We all know how he gets when the alcohol is flowing.”

  Tex chuckles once, nodding. Grim is the type of drunk who thinks he’s invincible, like he’s grown wings and can fly. “Shiloh made her choice, one which she was allowed to make. These boys make me feel like we’re in high school with the angst.” Tex admits.

  “Yeah, I’m hoping it’ll settle down soon but who knows if that will happen.”

  “Bull, you’re still young. Take it from this old man. Time heals all wounds. I bet a year from now all of these men will be chasing a different piece of pussy.”

  BLOODMONEY by Poppy pulsates from the surround sound stereo system Fist had added here a few years back. Poppy is some sort of metal punk singer. The type of entertainer that distracts you from your problems and causes everyone to rage the way you would at an old rock concert.

  Roxy makes an appearance at the top of the stairs, smiling widely as she comes down. Why she’s smiling plagues my mind until I see Fist come walkin’ up behind her. He’s wearing dark denim jeans, a white long-sleeved shirt and his cut. Holy hell. Am I seeing things?

  The room grows quiet as everyone’s eyes fall onto the man we constantly look to lead us. The way he draws his brows together is a sure signal he’s uncomfortable, but the man showed up and this is what matters. Hell, we were placing bets on whether he’d stay locked away in his room or come out for an appearance tonight.

  Fist reaches the bottom of the stairwell and approaches me, signals for Zane and Blackjack to come over, waiting for them to meet us before speaking. “We need to speak somewhere private. There’s something we need to include Bull in on.”

  Blackjack and Zane share a look which tells me I’m missing something. Zane leads the way outside into the chilling Montana air with a beer in his hand. Fist follows me and Blackjack comes out a couple minutes later with three beers in his hand. He passes me one, one to his father-in-law and keeps another for himself.

  “You sure you wanna chat about this here, dad?” Zane asks his father.

  Fist nods, “Yep. They won’t hear us inside anyway. The music’s too damn loud. How the group of you haven’t gone deaf yet is beyond me.” I chuckle at Fist’s small jab. It’s been too long since we’ve been dished on if you ask me.

  I bring the beer up to my lips and take a sip as Fist looks over to Zane and speaks to him. “You should be the one telling him son, not me. You’re the interim Prez. This is your duty, not mine.”

  The light
on the Monroe’s wrap around porch gives me enough light to see Zane roll his eyes at his father. “That’s a crock of bullshit, but whatever. I’ll give you the simple version. A couple weeks back dad, Ashley, Blackjack, and Hawk had a secret meeting with an ATF agent.”

  “Whoa. What?” Some MCs work with the feds, but we’re not one of them.

  “She showed up at Ashley’s door, demanded to speak to her, dad and Blackjack. They want our help locating a woman who is of some importance. Supposedly, the Bears have her and that is why Agent Williams came to us. She can nail Grizzly for the arson that killed Saffron and the burning of the club.”

  “What about the bomb that killed Cracker?” The second my question is out I see Fist cringe. He must still be going through hell in regard to his brother’s death.

  “She didn’t say anything about that. Anyway, the man we knew as Harry wasn’t actually Harry,” Zane starts off.

  Now I’m the one drawing my brows together, “Huh, what do you mean? Harry was working for the Bears. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

  “Well shit, if you’d let me finish talkin’ and stop interrupting me you might understand. Dad told me a couple days ago about all this. I was just as confused as you are. Turns out Harry had his name legally changed when he was seventeen. It’s why this was a bomb of truth dropped on us. His father is Fynn Müller.”

  No. It can’t be. Fynn is one of the most notorious serial killers around. Hell, he escaped federal prison a couple months back if I’m not mistaken. They’ve had documentaries on many different channels about him and his wife, who is still in prison. These two fuckers were a married couple who’d kill people in their cabin. Rumor has it their daughter turned them in but only the mother was arrested. None of that was ever confirmed. Fynn had a way of evading the police until about five years ago. Then he found a way to break his ass out. I only saw that online one day, though.

  “Okay, so what does it matter? The bastard is six feet under now.” I mutter, annoyed we’re even talking about the bastard.

  “They want us to help get a woman who’s being held captive.” Zane tells me, ‘cause obviously Blackjack and Fist know what he’s talking about.

  “Okay, so they want us to go down to Wyoming?” I ask, shocked these guys even knew about it.

  Fist cocks a brow; Blackjack makes a grumble and Zane blinks a few dozen times in the couple moments of silence between the group of us. Fist is the one who speaks, “Wyoming? Why’d we go to Wyoming?”

  “‘Cause that could be where they are. I know someone who overheard Blossom talkin’ to someone about the Bears.”

  “The agent never gave us the location of the club. Shit, this means we have a lead before they do. I’m all for helping this girl, but I want revenge on what happened to Cracker and Saffron. Agent Williams wants to lock Grizzly up, but if I can get to him before she does, I’ll make that fucker suffer.”

  Fist downs his beer and walks away from us, back into his house. “Guess we’re heading out in the morning.”

  Zane cackles, “You and I both know we’ll be heading out sooner than that. Better go get some shut eye before we go hunting.”

  6

  She did it anyway (because she is brave)

  ~unknown

  Alexa/Lola

  I wake to a crippling burning sensation striking my back. Unlike the rest of the time, the lights in the basement are on and there’s a group of men standing in the room. Instantly I recognize Grizzly and Rascal, but the other three are strangers to me. They all remind me of the type of people from the sticks you should steer clear of. They look rough around the edges. One has facial hair that sticks out in numerous lengths, obviously unkept. Another is so pale you’d think he’s a cadaver, and the last one . . . well, the teardrop tattoos coming from his eye tell me the type of people he’s affiliated with.

  Now I’m only left contemplating one thing: what the hell is going on?

  “I’m done doing this his way. Rascal has his eye on you girl, and you’ve blinded him. Now if you don’t tell me the information I need I’ll do the same to you. You see this knife here?” Grizzly asks, pointing to a long blade. It must be five or six inches long. If I’m not mistaken, it’s a hunting knife. I’ve never gone hunting or killed anything in my entire life. Or, crap, that’s a lie. I hit a rabbit when I was twenty. I tried to stop but the little fucker was an idiot and ran faster. I cried for a while but accepted it for what it is, Darwinism in its finest form.

  I nod at his question, waiting for him to say more.

  “I will take this knife and stick it straight into that pretty eye of yours. Then I’ll drag it around until I can cut it out. Who knows what I’ll do then, I might even eat it.”

  Every part of me wants to gag. It would be a natural reaction, right? But I can’t because I hear the sense of seriousness laced in his tone. Grizzly isn’t threatening me in any way. Instead he’s making a sickening promise. Somehow, I feel like regardless of what happens he’ll do what he wants to me.

  “Do you understand me, girl?” He yanks back a long, black whip and slams it down onto my flesh. My skin feels like a match has been lit and is running across my skin, lasting for moments after the impact. I try my hardest to not react to what he’s done, however it’s no use. While I’m strong, I’m also human and the tears well behind my eyes as my throat closes in.

  Anxiety and fear take over my body. I’m anxious because I’m in the room with a man who is obviously a psychopath. From what I’ve heard him say when he’s upstairs with Rascal he’s one of the easiest to profile. Grizzly would take no remorse in his actions, much like fictional serial killers like Hannibal Lector. However, I don’t believe he’d go to the lengths of displaying his killings. Grizzly is the type of killer who gets high off the pain of his victim, craving to see the pain and fear in their eyes as he has the most control over them than any other person will ever have. He’d stick a bag over my face and suffocate me, getting a hard on every time I’d gasp for air. Or, he’d stick my head in water and hold me down until I didn’t move another inch.

  Damn, why am I even thinking like this right now?

  I nod, showing him I’ve fully comprehended everything he’s just said.

  “I’ll cut to the chase. I want to know where your deadbeat daddy is.”

  There’s no way he could mean my actual father. I changed my name when I was a minor which means any access to that information is highly restricted. It’s as if Lola Müller never existed. The whip strikes my skin yet again, digging deep into my arm. I pull it back to my body covering it with my other hand in the hopes he’ll stop.

  I should consider myself lucky I’m even able to move in the first place. Since I’ve been in the basement I’ve been allowed to walk around on this cold floor, able to stretch my damn legs which are now weak as hell. I can barely stand without wanting to topple over. They only feed me the bare minimum. The same goes with water. I bet that’s their master plan. Minimize the amount of food and water I’m intaking so I become desperate and give them the information they desire.

  The joke’s on them, though. I haven’t seen my father in years, and I don’t plan on it either.

  “Are you going to speak up, or should I whip you again?” Grizzly asks. My attention is focused on him until I hear a cackling laughter from one of the other men. The one with the scraggly beard.

  “We could always do things my way, Prez. If we do . . . she’ll beg for it all to stop.”

  “Was I speaking to you, boy?!” Grizzly hollers out, snapping the whip in the other man’s direction. I watch him fall to the ground as the leather hits him and he whimpers out in pain. While Grizzly is focused on this idiot, Rascal keeps his eyes on me. While he is cruel there is something more to the way he talks to me. I may sound crazy, or like one of those women who start to develop Stockholm syndrome, but I sense it.

  Now, I’m not saying I’m in love with the dude or anything close to it. But I can see how he has this . . . inter
esting pull toward me. While it gives me the creeps, I’ll use whatever I can to my advantage.

  Grizzly returns his attention to me, starting to flick his wrist up in the motion I’m becoming very used to. “Okay, okay! I don’t know who you’re talking about. Can you elaborate?”

  Grizzly walks around me in a circle and suddenly everything becomes quiet. The only thing I hear is the clicking of his steel toed boots against the concrete floor. He makes a clicking sound with his tongue before he starts to speak. “Tsk. Tsk. Lola, you should know better than to lie.” My heart sinks into my stomach at hearing me being called by my birth name. A name I haven’t heard in over sixteen years. Lola was a scared, naïve little girl who only wanted to stay alive. Now I’m known by Alexa. Alexa is so much different than Lola. Alexa is a survivor. She’s a woman who put herself in self-defense classes, who graduated college with the highest GPA in her class and made valedictorian. Alexa took every awful thing that made Lola afraid and used it to fuel her drive and ambition.”

  I feel the whip wrap around my neck and look up to see Grizzly smiling as he tightens his grip. “Come here boy,” He hollers and the man who suggested he take care of me comes walking over. Grizzly hands him the end of the whip and pulls out the knife, bringing it just below my left eyelid. “Now, how about we try this again. Where is that father of yours?”

  I try to take in a deep breath but I’m unable to. Fuck! Regardless, I’m screwed here. He won’t believe a word I say. “I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen that bastard since I was sixteen!”

  “You see, I wanna believe you, but I don’t.” The sharp end of the knife comes closer and I feel it dig into my eyeball. Screams heavily flow out of my mouth until I don’t know how I’m even breathing. I feel wetness sliding down the side of my cheek and think it’s tears until I shift my head down and see the crimson red color of blood.