Bull (Reapers MC Book 7) Page 5
Footsteps come down the stairs and I hear Zane speak up, “The property is clear. Fuck, what happened to her?”
“What do you mean it’s clear? Where is Grizzly?” His father hisses, obviously frustrated. Hell, if it makes him feel better I’m pissed too.
“Grizzly is what happened,” I retort back, pulling Alexa up into my arms. “Someone needs to call the Doc. Blackjack, will you be able to help?”
Instantly he nods, “You know I’ll help in whatever way I can. I don’t think travelling with her is the smartest idea, though. I’d highly suggest against it.”
I turn my attention over to Zane, “With your approval I’d like to get a hotel room in town for a couple of days and have Blackjack stay with me.”
Zane raises a brow, “What about her medical attention?”
“Give me Boomer’s number and I’ll see what sort of connection he has down here. Before we can bring her up to Billings I need to make sure she’s okay for the ride. Is it alright with you or not?”
“Yeah, fine. Do whatever you want. Just stay safe and keep me updated. We’ve been through this enough and we know this is only the calm before the storm.” Zane says.
Shaking my head, “No, fuck that. This isn’t the calm before the storm. It’s hunting season for the Reapers. You hear me? We aren’t backing down this time. We’ll be on the road until one of us finds Grizzly, pulls him out of his fucking den and makes him pay for everything he’s done to our club. I’m tired of him getting away with all this shit. More than that, I’m pissed he keeps harming people who don’t deserve it. He put Harry in Ashley’s life to harm her and the club. He had Roach act as a spy to hurt the club. He cut his kid up like a damn jack-o-lantern and now he’s hurt this girl. When will enough be enough? We need to put the rabid animal down!” I roar, walking past my Prez and brothers, heading out to the truck.
I’m done with this shit. We’re not fucking around anymore. Not if I have anything to do with it.
10
Clever as the Devil, twice as pretty
~unknown
Alexa/Lola
“Did they ask you about Alexa?” A man’s voice asks. My eyes are closed and I’m hurting more than I ever thought possible. Part of me wants to die. I never thought I’d ever see the day when I would say that, but I do. Even breathing is excruciating.
“No, I asked for a room near the back away from others. Told them I had some work to get done.” Another man responds.
I don’t recognize either of the voices but can’t help wondering who they belong to. Slowly I open the only eye I have left and see I’m now in a dingy old motel room. The crappy art on the wall I’m facing is a sure sign I’m right. Well, that and the sink being on the outside of the bathroom.
One of the men walks toward the sink and looks at himself in the mirror. He seems to be in his late thirties if I had to put a guess on it. He has long, thick black hair which appears to be combed back with pieces of gray going through it. He kind of has one of those bad boy looks. You know, the type of look every normal mother warned her teenage daughter to stay away from in high school.
The man in the mirror speaks as he picks up the comb and takes it through his hair, “You know that’s always code for sex, right? Hell, the lady at the front desk must think you’re having some sort of sex fest.” There’s something about his voice which makes me want to trust him. I’m obviously out of my damn mind for wanting to give my trust to someone I don’t even know. But these aren’t the Bears. I can tell because the handsome salt and peppered man has a Reaper on the back of his leather vest.
Wait.
I’ve seen this symbol before. Now where did I see it? If only I could remember. “Blackjack,” the other voice responds in a grumbled form of laughter.
I keep my eye focused on the design and it hits me all at once. These men must be from the other side. The ones who were stirring up shit for the Bears when they moved me from the shed. Shoot, I’ll be damned. Here’s to hoping that old saying ‘the enemy of your enemy is your friend’ is true in this case.
Since I’m up close this time, I can make out above their design it says ‘Reapers’ and below it says ‘Montana’. “How’re you feelin’?” I don’t realize I’m being asked the question until I see this Blackjack’s eyes focused on me in the mirror. He waits a moment before continuing, “You went through it pretty bad, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. You’re probably wondering who we are and where in the hell you are. I’ll clear it up for you pretty quick. We’re friends, we’re not gonna harm you and we’ve got a doc on the way. Now that you’re up I wanna get some anti-inflammatories in you and ice on where you’re swelling up. Not to mention, I think you’d kill for a good meal, right?”
I’m not sure if I’m dreaming, or if this is some sort of elaborate trick. This could be a dream. I might still be hanging from those dreadful chains in that freezing basement, only able to escape through my mind.
Blackjack turns to face me, cocking his head to the side just a bit, almost implying he’s waiting for me to speak. “Bet you think this is some sort of dream or somethin’. I can assure you it isn’t.”
“You a m-mind reader?” I ask with a crackled voice. I sound like I’ve been a chain smoker for thirty years, but it’s only from the lack of water.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, but I’m familiar with women in situations like yours. My wife came from something similar, but her ex-husband was beating on her. I think when she finally got to safety she thought it was all a dream.”
“How do I know you’re a friend?” I ask, needing to hear some sort of decent answer. If I don’t, I’ll have to figure out another way to get out. Now I’m not dumb. I know my body is at its weakest point, but if I don’t feel comfortable I’ll get the hell out of here as soon as possible.
Cocking a brow, the man chuckles again. “Sweetheart, if we weren’t your friends, you wouldn’t be breathin’ right now.”
I nod, appreciating his bluntness. Hell, even nodding hurts. I feel like I’ve gotten run over by a small car dozens of times.
Blackjack passes me and I hear the unmistakable sound of pills being poured out. The popping sound of the lid being put back on the bottle greets me and within a moment he’s in front of me again. He opens a bottle of water for me, hands me one pill and then hands me the next, even taking the time to show me what he’s given me. They are truly anti-inflammatories. I take the two of them, drinking a decent bit of water with it. God, it feels so good to coat my throat with liquid. My lips have been cracking over the past several weeks. They’re as dry as the desert.
After I’m done with my water I realize I’m not naked. A combination of fur and leather coats my skin. A jacket comes down to right above my knees and I ponder who these clothes belong to. “Bull thought you were a bit too cold, so he covered you up. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all. Thank you. I appreciate the . . . chivalry.” I say it and realize how stupid it sounds, but before I can say something else I hear a deep laugh from behind me. Another man comes into view but he’s so much different than Blackjack. He has a small amount of hair on his head, where his thick black beard and mustache makes him look like a Viking. He’s a huge guy, loaded with muscle and every aspect and feature tells me he’s the type of man who demands order and dominance. Now I notice he’s only wearing a black t-shirt. Bull literally took the clothes off his back and gave them to me— a complete stranger.
“I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but never has it been chivalrous.”
“Uh, yeah. That came out wrong. I meant to say something else.” I awkwardly state.
“Oh, so now you’re taking away the compliment you just gave me?” Bull teases.
Blackjack puts his hand up. “Alright, let the woman rest. How about you do us both a favor and go get her some food from that restaurant across the street? I’m sure you’re starved, right Alexa? Plus, we have to wait for that nurse practitioner to get here and ch
eck her out.”
“Sure. What do you want darlin’?” Bull asks with a purr in his tone.
“I’d love a bacon cheeseburger.” My stomach growls as the thought runs through my mind.
“You got it. I’ll be back in a bit.” Bull walks out of my view and I’m left here with Blackjack.
11
Anger was better than tears, better than grief, better than guilt
~unknown
Alexa/Lola
“You have a nurse practitioner coming here?” I ask Blackjack.
He sits down on the makeshift desk across from the bed. “Yeah. I was a medic in the Army but I always like to have someone more equipped to double check me. I think you’ll be alright after a bit of rest. You’ll need some antibiotic cream if I’m correct but your eye should heal. You do have a cut about two inches long under your eye but when you were asleep I examined you. He cut your lid but didn’t appear to go past where your eye was.
I breathe in slowly finally accepting I’ve lost my eye. It is so weird to only see half of what you could before. I find myself having to turn my head to see the other part of the room. Putting my arms underneath me I sit up and finish off the bottle of water.
“Whoa, slow down. You don’t want to overdo it.”
I roll my eye, “Tell me that when you’re the one who’s barely had anything to eat or drink.”
“Geeze, point made firecracker.” Blackjack cackles.
“So, want to tell me who you are?” I ask, curious to know why these men in the Reapers MC want to lend a helping hand to a woman they don’t know.
“Sure, I’m Blackjack but you already know that. I’m the interim VP of the Reapers MC.”
“VP?” Some of my colleagues are different types of criminal profilers who would be more aware of what his terminology means but I’m not one of them. I’m a psychological profiler, studying why people do what they do, analyzing data of killings and tack on diagnoses of what type of mental attribute may come into play in their acts of violence.
“Vice President. I’m the club’s second in command.”
“Okay, so answer this for me. Why did you rescue me?”
Blackjack gives me a blank stare before answering, “I’m not gonna hide shit from ya. You’ve been through enough and not being truthful doesn’t seem right. A government official asked us to help locate you. She knew we had some issues with the Bears, who had you locked up down there, and figured we might be open to causing some chaos. The agent needed you out and we needed to find the Bears. The only thing is we got a tip telling us where you guys might be and we drove out here. I don’t even think the agent knows we grabbed ya.”
An Agent. I have connections in various offices and wonder who my guardian angel could be. I decide to be transparent as well. “I work for a government agency. Was it Kristie?” Kristie and I met when she was transferred out to the Salt Lake City field office of the FBI. When I worked in a physical office that’s where I was assigned. Since being on my leave of absence I came back out to Montana. As a child I had lived just outside of Billings until I was four or five, that’s when my family moved to a more remote area.
“No, her name is Williams.”
Amanda? Why the hell would Amanda want to help me? Amanda Williams works for the ATF and is an arch nemesis of mine so to speak. There are times where she’s stepped on Kristie’s toes, or vice versa. It doesn’t make sense. Not unless somehow she’d be able to get a conviction from the Bears. “Did something happen to warrant the ATF’s involvement in seeking you out?”
Blackjack gives me a curt nod. “Yes, our clubhouse burned to the ground. The cause was arson and Grizzly was behind it. One of our own died in that fire.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. Saffron was one of the good ones. Anyway, I guess it doesn’t really matter who it was. One way or another you got out. At the end of the day that’s what matters, right?” Blackjack states.
“Yes, you’re right.”
Since I have Kristie on my mind I’m realizing she had a good friend who was in an MC. Ellen? No . . . Eleanor? No, that’s not it either. Ellie? No. God, why can’t I remember what her name is? She used to be an active field agent and lived in Cincinnati with Kristie. I remember her so vividly because she told me her lawyer fiancé was cheating on her with someone in his office. Apparently her friend walked in, threw her ring at him and went on another assignment. Only it didn’t go as planned. The woman ended up falling for her target. He was the leader of a motorcycle club, similar to the Reapers from the looks of it.
Ah, her name is Elena! She fell for the head honcho in charge. Kristie had told me how she didn’t believe Elena when she said he was one of the good guys, but she kept an open mind because she knew Elena had a good head on her shoulders and an amazing heart. For my own sake I hope it’s the same with the Reapers.
The door comes open and exposes Bull who has two paper bags in his left hand. He’s also holding a drink tray in his right hand as he ventures forward. “Figured you’d want a milkshake too, but I didn’t know what type to get. So I got strawberry, vanilla, mint chocolate chip and chocolate.”
He tosses one of the bags at me from across the room and I catch it, open it up and shove my hand down inside. The scent of melted cheese and seasoned beef hits me hard causing me to salivate ferociously.
Unwrapping the cheap paper I take a huge bite of the burger and allow the deliciousness to flood over my senses. I forgot just how good cheese was and boy I’ve missed it so much. Before I realize what I’m doing I’ve eaten the first burger and have already swallowed half of my second before Bull comes up to me, kneeling at the edge of the bed.
“Darlin’ you need to slow down. I know you’re hungry but you have to go at a decent pace. Otherwise you’re going to get—” Bull doesn’t even have to finish his sentence because nausea strikes me hard and within a second I’m vomiting my stomach contents onto his chest.
This can’t be real. Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.
12
True power is sitting back and observing everything with logic. True power is restraint. If words control you that means everyone else can control you. Breathe and allow things to pass.
~Unknown
Bull
Blackjack cackles like this is the funniest thing he’s ever seen in his god damned life and meanwhile I’m trying not to gag from the foul odor coating my body. I feel the vomit soaking into my t-shirt and jeans. All I want to do right now is get a hot shower and wash this puke off my body.
“I am so sorry.” Alexa mutters in a whisper. She doesn’t even look at me when she apologizes, staring down at the floor instead. I can’t say I blame her. I’d be embarrassed too if roles were reversed.
“It’s alright. You’ve been through a hell of a lot,” I say and then walk over to the sink. Turning on the warm water to something semi-hot I run a washcloth underneath it, open the bottle of complimentary mouth wash sitting on the counter and grab the plastic wrapped cup beside it. I go back over to where Alexa is seated on the bed and unwrap the cup along the way, pouring some mouthwash in it and hand it to her. She gargles hopefully not taking offense to me bringing this over and spits it out in the cup. I return to the sink and dump the used mouthwash from her cup, tossing the cup in the waste can beneath the counter and pick the hot washcloth up.
It isn’t hot enough to burn, however there is a bit of steam coming from it. I ring it out, allowing the excess water to go down the drain and approach her once again. She stares at me with her dark chocolate brown eye and it’s like we’re speaking a silent language. With her look I can tell she’s scared yet trusting at the same time. I don’t want this woman to fear me. Hell, I don’t want her to be scared at all. All I want is to be able to help. So, I take the washcloth and press it against her lips, wiping her chin and span down to the left side of her jaw.
She no longer has a spec of grime on her where I’ve taken the cloth against her skin. In fact,
she leans her face into my hand as I continue to wipe her clean. I continue to her cheek, over next to her eye and her forehead, sure to get every spec of blood that I can and do the same to the right side. When I’m done I can fully see the alabaster skin underneath all the grime. Alexa looks just like one of those porcelain dolls with her fair complexion.
“I knew you shouldn’t have gotten her a burger.” Blackjack teases, breaking the trance between the two of us.
Alexa giggles lightly, “Yeah, I’m now regretting not asking for something lighter like chicken noodle soup.”
“It’s fine. Shit like this happens. I’ll go get you some soup after the nurse practitioner gets here. How does that sound?”
For the first time since I’ve seen her the woman smiles, reminding me of a little kid who you’ve just told can get some ice cream. The amount of innocence and hope coming through is enough to cause me to grin back at her. “I would love that. Thank you, Bull.” She looks back to the ground, only this time I’m not really sure why.
“My pleasure,” No sooner as I finish speaking and there’s a knock on the door. Blackjack walks over while I have a hand on my Glock just in case whoever’s on the other side isn’t a friend.
Blackjack puts his eye to the peephole and the knocking gets louder. “Holy hell. If you don’t open this darn door right now I’m going to leave you to deal with your own problems. It’s too cold for this shit!” A woman’s voice hollers. My guess is this is the nurse.
I watch as he opens the door and we’re exposed to a tan, brunette woman. She has a curvaceous body. You know, the type where every man from a mile around will come runnin’ fuckin’ each other up to get a piece of that. All I can wonder now is how this woman knows the Corrupt Kings MC.