by Tillie Cole
I nodded stiffly and placed an appreciative hand on his shoulder. With that, I headed back into the main base and over to the bar.
Pit asked, “You good, Prez?
I nodded and he pointed to the bottles of liquor behind the bar.
“What can I get you?”
Sucking in a deep breath, I pointed to the Beam. I needed it large and I needed it to keep coming.
Chapter Three
Styx
“Wh-wh-what’s your n-name?”
Silence.
“Wh-wh-what’s this p-place?”
Silence.
“Styx… STYX!”
“Puh… puh… please… Wh-what’s your n-name?”
“I am Sin. We are all sin…”
I snapped outta my daze. Someone was shaking my shoulder. I looked up. Lois.
She pulled up a stool beside me as I refocused on the amber liquid, almost empty, in my glass. Shit. How many had I had?
“What’s going down with that girl?”
I didn’t bother giving her a response.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, hand on my shoulder. Bitch was a total fuckin’ sweetheart. Shouldn’t have got handed this shit deal in life.
Tipping back the last of my fifth Beam, I stood and began walking out of the bar to my club room. Halfway to the exit, I glanced back over my shoulder, seeing Lois watching me go, fuckin’ eyes shining. With a tip of my chin at her, I set to walking once more.
As I opened the door to my room, I sensed her behind me. Spinning around, I took her by the top of her arms, ripping off her dress.
“Styx…” she moaned breathlessly. “I love you, Styx. I’m here for you, baby…”
As I ripped down the straps of her black bra, her lips sucked at my neck. Shedding my cut, I tugged off my black shirt and yanked open the zipper of my jeans. No boxers to shed underneath.
Turning Lois to face the wall, I guided us to the unmade bed—the bed I saved for fucking, stained with cum and sweat. Pushing on her neck, head to the mattress, I kept her full ass up in the air—no panties, pussy bald, just how I liked it. Easy access.
Reaching into the back pocket of my jeans, I picked out a Trojan and wrapped it on my cock.
“Take me, Styx. Take me… hard.”
Grabbing her boney hips, I slammed into her wet pussy, throwing my head back on a silent hiss. Fuck. This was why I kept her around just for my personal use.
Lois whimpered beneath me and started rocking back along my dick. I knew I was fucked the minute I imagined Lois’s tanned skin pale in color, her shoulder-length brown hair grow out to her back and deepen to jet black, and when her head turned and her brown eyes faced me, I only saw a pair of ice-blue irises looking back, the lids hooded in pleasure.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I pictured Jane Doe below me, thrashing wild, screaming out in pleasure and coming over and over again while I took her raw. The thought had my cock twitching and my neck cording, coming so hard I had to use my fists to balance on the mattress.
“Baby…. That was… amazing.” My eyes flew open as Lois panted below me, her back dripping with sweat, a huge smile on her lips as she looked back at me.
Shit.
Pulling out, I snapped off the rubber and zipped up my jeans, just as a hard rap sounded at my door. Throwing on my Black Sabbath shirt, I ran a hand through my hair, checking to make sure Lois was dressing too. She was. She knew she weren’t welcome to stick around.
The door opened and Ky and Rider stood before me, my VP shaking his head. “There you are, man. I’ve been calling your name for the last few minutes.”
I looked at Rider and hid my anxiousness with my usual indifferent scowl.
News? I signed.
Rider sighed as I led the brothers into the bar. I caught Lois closing the door to my room. Throwing me a small smile, she headed in the direction of the other club whores.
Rider, Ky and I sat at my usual table, and I leaned back to hear the verdict.
“She’s sticking around for now. She’s had three pints of blood, an IV of strong antibiotics. Temperature’s come down, vitals’ stablizing. She’s strong, healthy. Early twenties I’d guess, but fuckin’ dangerously undernourished. We’ll see how the night plays out. She gets through the next twenty-four hours, she’ll probably make it.”
Probably. Not good enough, not nearly good enough, but if it’s all I got, I’d take it.
I tapped the bar, Pit slipping his short pale ass behind it.
“What you guys want? Beer?” he asked, his usual fuckin’ happy grin on his face. The brother was the happiest damn recruit we’d ever had. The kid seemed too pure to deal with what this club throws your way.
Giving a nod, I signaled for two, passed the Buds to my brothers, and tipped my chin at Rider in thanks. Slapping Ky on the back, I headed to my apartment.
Getting through the hallway and up the stairs, I immediately froze in the doorway to my room. If possible, Jane Doe looked even hotter the second time around, despite the wires poking into her flesh, but she needed cleaning up.
Beauty. I’d get Beauty.
Walking into the lounge of the clubhouse, brothers watched me as I entered, lying with their sluts for the night on the red leather sofas, some pausing in their pussy fingering, as did those chilling, playing pool. I’d obviously caused some talk as everyone stilled when they saw me, eying me weird.
Signaling to Tank to meet me at the farthest bar, out of earshot, I sat down. Two bourbons were waiting, courtesy of Pit. First glass went straight down the hatch.
“S’up, Prez?” Tank slumped into the chair, knocking back his amber shot, all in one fluid motion.
Gotta job for Beauty, I signed. Tank was one of the brothers who’d been ’round long enough to understand my ASL. Him and his old lady, that is. Most prospects make learning sign a damn priority, a way to make sure they impressed. Made my life fuckin’ easier, that’s for sure.
“What you need?” he asked.
I slammed back a second shot. Need her to come and clean the Jane Doe at my place. No fucker in here’s touching her. Beauty’s the only old lady I trust… and can stomach to be around.
Tank cracked a small, proud smile. “I’ll give her a call. Anything else?” He needed to smile. Brother knew he lucked out with his woman—older by a couple’a years, blond, busty, total fuckin’ sweetheart. The ex-white supremacy member done good. Still looked like he belonged in the fuckin’ KKK, but he was cool now. No beef with anyone so long as they don’t fuck over the club—his family—even went so far as to cover his Nazi ink with Hades shit.
Need clothes too. Tell her to get them from the club stash at her store. Put it on my tab. She’ll need to see her first for her size. She was wearing some weird white rag when I found her.
Tank ran his finger ’round the rim of his empty glass, eying me weird. “Why the special treatment, Prez? We’ve had injured dumped here before. They’d normally be gone by now, not sleeping in your bed. Why’s she different? You got the brothers talking.”
Only Ky knew ’bout that night years ago. Not into sharing it with the others. None of their fuckin’ business.
I rolled my head in his direction and just eyeballed the fucker.
“Message received.” Tank flicked his phone open, and made the call to Beauty. Brother knew when to dig and when to quit. Years doing time inside, fighting rival crews for his life taught him that lesson.
I listened to him give his old lady the instruction, then hang up. “She’ll be here in ten.”
Send her straight in to my place. Backdoor. No one else disturbs me until then. Right?
“Right, Styx. I’ll let the brothers know.”
A couple’a minutes later, I entered my room, slipping off my leather cut, hanging it on the hook on the back of my door. The bitch lay motionless in the middle of my bed. Taking advantage of the alone time, I checked Rider hadn’t yet returned, then moved to the bed.
No change.
Walking into my b
athroom, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My dark hair was sticking up all over the place, cheeks unshaven and hazel eyes tired. I glanced to the inked sleeves on both arms. The right depicting Hades on his throne with Cerberus, the three-headed guard dog. The left, a map of Underworld: Tartarus, the Elysian Fields, the Three Judges, the Five Rivers, and above them all, Persephone, the pure goddess wife of Hades, proud to be at her man’s side. My version of Persephone had long black hair and crystal-blue eyes.
Go fuckin’ figure.
I chuffed at my reflection. Styx, man, you’re losing your fuckin’ mind!
Slipping off my black shirt, I stared at my bare chest, free of ink, with my Hangmen patch tattoo covering my entire back. I worked out hard to relieve stress and for intimidation purposes—boxing mainly, bare-knuckle since eight years old. My old man pushed me to fight. Knew my damn signing would cause me shit in the MC world, so he decided to give me another way to communicate. Keeps me feared. Being Prez of a club like the Hangmen comes with some serious shit. I keep built to ensure respect. The fact that I’m six foot four and two thirty pounds helps too.
Jane Doe shifted in her sleep as I scanned her frame through the reflection in the mirror. I wondered what the fuck she’d think of me. Big, scarred, mute, and inked with Death himself. She’d be petrified, no doubt.
Switching on the shower, I undressed and stood under the stream, Jane Doe’s red blood pooling in the drain.
Chapter Four
Styx
“Styx?”
When I cracked open my eye, Beauty stood before me, clutching two bags with Ride, the name of her biker store, written on the front. Tank leaned against the doorframe, quietly watching, taking in the scene before him.
After my shower, I’d dressed in black jeans and a black shirt, then slumped down in my chair. I must’ve fallen asleep. I turned my attention to Jane Doe.
Still the same.
“You okay, Styx.” Beauty’s voice pulled me ’round, her brows drawn down tight.
I nodded and signed, You good with cleaning her up? Tank explain?
Beauty edged closer, blond hair down, dressed in tight black jeans and a black Hangmen tank, her leather vest reading Property of Tank on the back.
She stopped at the side of the bed and caressed the bitch’s head. My body froze, my stomach churning with possessiveness. Didn’t like anyone but me touching her. Suddenly felt like ripping Beauty’s arm out of its socket.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I had to stop myself from tackling Beauty outta the way.
What the fuck, man? Get it the fuck together! I told myself.
Beauty fixed her blue eyes on me. She saw the conflict in my fuckin’ psycho glare. I was sure of it. “She’s beautiful.” Her forehead lined. “She just turned up outta nowhere, injured?”
Jerking my chin, I ordered Tank to split. He nodded, pulled the door shut, and I stood against the wall and signed, She turned up bleeding, dying and covered in dirt. She needs cleaning. Not gonna do it. I only trust you. That’s why you’re here. She can’t leave yet. Too many Feds on our backs. Need to find out who the fuck she is and why she’s here.
I could see the questions swirling in her blue eyes, but she knew not to dig. Beauty: best of all the old ladies. Knew when to shut her fuckin’ mouth, unlike most of the sluts who littered the bar.
“I’ll clean her, change the sheets, and get her some clothes. I’ll call you when I’m done if you’d like.”
Tipping my chin in agreement, I left Beauty with Jane Doe, her eyes burning holes in my back. I headed to the lounge, signaling to Ky to join me.
Ky tore himself away from Tiff and Jules sucking on each other’s tits, giving the boys a porn floorshow, and he followed me into my office.
“S’up, Styx? The bitch good?” Ky asked, shutting the door.
Shrugging, I sat down behind my desk. “St-still not s-sure. B-b-beauty’s cl-cl-cleaning.”
He slapped a hand on my shoulder without saying a word and sat down. “You wanna talk?”
“St-stays between us, r-r-right?”
“Right.”
I paused, gathering my suspicions. “W-w-we have a r-r-rat.”
Ky froze and spoke through gritted teeth. “You certain?”
I threw him a single nod. “Th-that or a c-covert agent maybe?”
“Shit.” Nothing a brother hates more than a rat. “You’re always right over shit like this, just like your old man was, fuckin’ born intuition. Any guess who?”
“N-n-not yet. S-s-some f-fucker told the f-f-fuckin’ m-m-mystery supplier about the C-commi deal, n-n-no two ways ’b-b-bout it.” I took a deep breath, loosening my throat, but the more pissed I became, the tighter that rope pulled. Giving up, I decided to sign. Just have to work out who and why and then send them to the boatman.
“Plan?”
Not yet. Gonna see how it plays out. But I’m watching.
Ky stood, pacing. “Who’d do it? I trust every one of these brothers, every fuckin’ single one. It’s gotta be a groupie or a nomad. Shit!”
I stared out the small window and shrugged. He could be right. Something just didn’t feel right. Something big was going down.
Ky swiveled his chair away from my desk and sat on it backward, arms resting on the backrest. “You and me never would rat. Tank, Viking, AK and Rider—in for life, no question.”
Rider? You certain? I signed.
Ky shook his head. “Not a chance he’s the rat. He’s got no family but us. Best damn rider we got. Does anything asked, always stitching us up after fights, works next to me in deals, goes on any run given, never questions shit. He doesn’t deserve our doubt just ’cause he’s young or that he’s quiet. You’re only twenty-six, brother, twenty-five when you got Prez. No one questioned your age or the fact that you don’t talk. Brother may only be twenty-four but was recruited just before twenty and been a fuckin’ golden asset ever since.”
I jerked my chin.
Point made.
Ky kept going. “Smiler—lifer. Bull—loyal as fuck. That only leaves Flame, who we both know is fuckin’ psycho. The only thing keeping him from murdering a packed mall on a Saturday is his love for this club. Only leaves Pit or the new hang arounds. They got no intel. Never get word on details. Brothers are good with Pit, wanna patch him in soon.” He shook his head and hit the back of the chair in frustration. “FUCK! Who could it be? Gotta be Feds or some cunt—tapping cells or using hidden surveillance.”
For once, I didn’t give a fuck about any of it. My mind was back in my room with Jane Doe.
A hand slammed on my desktop. “Styx! Christ, man. Get it the fuck together!” Ky was scowling right in my face.
My eyes narrowed and he tried to hide his flinch. Don’t. First and only fuckin’ warning, I signed.
He pushed out his palms and backed the hell off. “Fine. Look, your head’s not straight with the bitch here. Let me do some groundwork, set some feelers out under the radar. Keep it just between us.”
I exhaled. Yeah. Need to know who’s new to running guns in Texas.
Standing up, I walked to the door, turning back to sign, Going back to my place. Beauty should be done by now. Not waiting all fuckin’ night.
Heading through the lounge, around the back of the compound, I climbed the stairs and knocked at my door. Pushing it open, I saw Beauty was in my bathroom, washing her hands. She looked up as I walked in.
You done? I signed.
“She’s clean. I’ll bring clothes tomorrow after my shift at the store, she’s got on a robe for now.” Walking beside the bed, she looked up at me, shaking her head. “She’s slim, Styx. Too friggin’ slim if you ask me. The girl don’t eat shit by the looks of her.”
I finally let myself check out the bitch on the bed. Damn. She knocked the breath right outta me: smooth complexion, freshly washed and dried black hair free of blood and dirt.
Hell. It had to be her…
Beauty gathered her things. With a small smile, she paus
ed to say, “She looks like Snow White, Styx. Dark hair, pale skin, red lips. She’s fuckin’ stunning, not a scratch of makeup, but still looks like that. Shit! Not fair! No wonder the club sluts are bitching ’bout you keeping her back here to yourself. They’ve got fuck all on her.”
I released a pent-up sigh.
Snow. Fuckin’. White.
I could feel Beauty looking at me funny, her hands twisting together as I stared in a damn trance at the bed. Her gaze dropped, nerves pulsing from her awkwardness.
Frowning, I signed, What?
Beauty closed her eyes briefly and opened them on a sigh. “She has a hell of a lotta scars on her body, Styx.”
I stilled, heart pumping, rage building, and asked, Where? But Beauty’s eyes were fixed on the bed. Spinning her around by her arm, I signed, Where?
“Mostly her back. Look like pretty severe lash marks. They go from side to side like someone’s whipped her good. But… who the fuck would do that? Who gets lashed nowadays?”
I raised a questioning eyebrow as Beauty’s gaze saddened.
“Has some on her inner thighs too. Look like old cuts, blade marks… or… something worse.” She didn’t go further, letting the implication hang in the air.
Fuck.
Beauty walked toward the door, laying a hand on my rigid arm as she passed. “I hope she pulls through, Styx. Looks like she deserves a better life than the one she’s got.”
I couldn’t respond. Couldn’t think. Scars on her fuckin’ inner thighs…
I sat on the chair next to the bed, watching the bitch’s chest rise and fall. I leaned in, took a deep breath, working my throat like hell to manage a whisper.
“I-i-if you c-can hear m-me, p-p-pull through. W-wake the f-f-fuck up. I’ve b-been w-waiting on you coming back to me for f-f-fifteen fuckin’ years. No d-dying on m-me now, you hear me?”
Chapter Five
Salome
A long sleeveless flowing gown of white stared at me as I huddled against the cold wall on the floor of my room with my legs pulled firmly to my chest.