Axl (Sons of Chaos MC #1) (15 page)

Dash nodded, understanding my drift.

“We hit him hard, and fast. Make it look like an accident. Make it look like the Reapers got him.”

“Yeah,” said Red. “Lynch’s the most wanted man in the club. He’s been out there on the front lines, hittin’ them everyday. They want his ass and nobody’s gonna question if he takes a bullet to the brain one night.”

I nodded, the plan coming together in my mind. “First thing’s first,” said. “We get rid of Lynch, then we hit Vargas hard enough to send the Reapers back home, lickin’ their wounds.”

Dash and Red nodded in agreement.

“Dash,” I said, “You been closest to Lynch. When’s he gonna be off-guard?”

Dash paused, thinking. “At his pad,” he said. “Fucker’s got a nice vacation home down in Phoenix. Wife and kids are out of town ’til next week. He’s there every Thursday.”

“Wife and kids gone—you fuckin’ sure?” I said, my eyes narrowing. “Sick and fuckin’ tired of innocents getting’ caught up in our bullshit. We see any sign of a woman or child, we turn around and go home. No debate.”

Dash nodded. “I’m sure. His old lady has the kids in Florida right now, up with the in-laws. Two thousand miles away. Lynch will be alone.”

I nodded, looking back and forth at Dash and Red. “Hold this in complete confidence,” I said. “One word of this gets out… I’ll cut both your throats myself.” I couldn’t fuckin’ imagine Dash or Red saying shit. And I sure as hell couldn’t imagine cuttin’ their throats. But I wanted shit to be crystal clear.

Both men nodded solemnly, not speaking.

“Then it’s decided,” I said. “I’m layin’ low just outside of town. Can’t show my face at the club now. Same time here tomorrow, we figure out the details.”

“We’ll be here, boss,” said Red.

“Stay safe, buddy,” said Dash, looking into my eyes. He held eye contact just a little longer than normal. “Catch you here tomorrow.”

Dash and Red got up and left. I sat there for a few minutes in thought, then signaled the waitress for another whiskey. This one I sipped slowly. One hand on the glass, and the other hand on the Glock on my hip. As I drank, my eyes scanned around the room.

Couldn’t be too careful.

The next morning, I was under the weather. I’d gone to bed without eating much, and when I woke up, I felt like I was coming down with a stomach flu. Lovely. I wished I was back home with my roommates, or at my parents’ house. Being sick while away from home was the worst.

Fortunately, I at least had my new friend Ashlynn to keep me company. I was lying in bed reading the news on my phone when she came knocking at my door.

“How you feeling, girl?” She asked, cracking the door and poking her head through.

I sighed. “Come in, Ash,” I said. “Been better.” I was trying to lie as still as possible, because every time I moved it felt like my guts were sloshing around inside me.

“Awe,” she said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “What say I help you get dressed and we get some chicken noodle soup?”

I mustered a smile for her. “Okay, let’s give it a shot.”

We made it down the hall to the kitchen and sat at our usual spot at the black-and-white checkered countertop. The Italian cook, who I now knew as Luigi, brought out two bowls of steaming hot soup with saltines. “Feel better,” he said with a sympathetic smile.

The soup was tasty and rejuvenating, and my stomach began to calm down as Ash and I sat, talked, and ate.

But halfway through our meal, a dangerous-looking group of five or six men burst into the mess hall, loud and raucous. They commandeered two tables near the entrance. One of them, a greasy-looking kid who looked like a bad impression of Elvis, kicked back in a chair and threw his muddy boots on the table. The stench of alcohol reached my nose from across the room.

Next to me, Ashlynn groaned quietly. “Don’t give ‘em attention. Just finish your soup and we’ll go.”

“You know these guys?” I whispered back.

“Yeah. Mean drunks that come by here every week after dropping off crank for their club.”

“Which club?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“Demons.”

I nearly spilled a spoonful of salty broth and noodles into my lap. “Oh my God,” I said, feeling my skin prickle. “A Demon tried to kill Axl. And me.”

Ashlynn’s eyes widened in alarm. “What?!”

I put the spoon down into my unfinished bowl of soup, quietly. “We need to go,” I whispered. “I’ll explain later.”

Ashlynn nodded.

We stood up and walked toward the exit. I looked straight ahead, not making eye contact with the boisterous men. But I could tell they noticed us. Before we got to the door, the young greasy-looking one crossed the room and blocked our path.

“In a rush, ladies?” I looked into his beady eyes, which sparkled insincerely. His skin was a mess and his teeth were crooked and yellowed. His breath stank of booze and cigarettes.

Ashlynn, who’d been following behind me, stepped up next to me. “Get outta our way, Ford.”

“Nah,” he said with a dirty grin, “I don’t think so. How you been, baby? And who’s your little friend?”

“I’d watch your fucking mouth if I were you,” Ash said. “She’s Archer’s old lady. Fuck with her and Big Mikey’ll cut your puny dick off.”

“Shut up, bitch,” Ford snarled.

A week ago, I’d have been intimidated by this guy’s crude behavior. But by now, I’d seen worse. My intuition told me this guy was a little bitch under a fake “tough guy” persona.

“Back off,” I said. My lips seemed to be doing the talking for me. “Get outta the way, or Axl will kill you like he killed your buddy at Four Corners.”

Ford’s eyes swiveled to me, angry. But behind his anger, there was confusion. I had a read on him. My street smarts were catching up to my book smarts. He was just a scared little piglet, a follower who didn’t really know what the hell was going on.

“The hell you talkin’ about?”

By now, we’d caught the attention of the other Demons, and another one walked up to us. He was tall, ripped, and had a hard jawline and a military-looking high ’n tight haircut. Clearly the leader. Ford’s posturing diminished as the bigger man approached, his behavior changing from aggressive to deferential. It was easy to tell who was really in charge here.

“Hey boss,” said Ford, looking up at the taller man, “This bitch was saying—“

The taller man spoke over Ford, cutting him off. “I heard. Now git.” He flicked his head, ordering Ford to scram, who obeyed after giving me and Ashlynn one last dirty look.

“Listen,” said the man, lowering his voice, “I heard about that bullshit with your old man. Listen. I couldn’t give less of a fuck about the Sons of Chaos,” he said, “Ain’t got no particular love or hate for ‘em. But there’s nothin’ I fuckin’ hate worse than a sell-out.” He moved in closer toward us, lowering his voice even further so his guys wouldn’t overhear. “The Demon who shot up your old man was paid off. We don’t love the Sons, but we also ain’t tryin’ to start a war with ‘em. He was a lone wolf.”

I nodded. “We know it was a Son who paid off your guy. I don’t think Axl blames your MC for this.”

He nodded and stood up straight. “Good. But understand. After I heard about this bullshit, I put the squeeze on a couple of my own guys. Suspected they knew somethin’ about it. Gave me a name.”

I nodded. “Axl knows it was Lynch who paid off your guy.”

The man looked briefly confused and shook his head. “Well, that ain’t the name I heard.”

My heart beat faster. “What’d you hear?”

“Name I got was Dash.”

I felt like someone had pulled a fire alarm in my head. Ash must’ve sensed it, ‘cause she said, “Hol, what’s wrong?”

“Shit,” I whispered. My head was pounding. “That’s Axl’s buddy. The one he went to meet yesterday. The one who gave him Lynch’s name.”

“Oh, shit,” said Ashlynn.

The man’s expression hardened. “Smells like a set-up to me,” he said.

“Shit,” I repeated. “We gotta go.”

The man nodded. “Hope your old man makes it outta this.”

“Come on,” I said to Ashlynn, and rushed out of the mess hall with her behind me.

We stood in the dorm hallway. “I’ve gotta call him,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket. All I could think about was Axl unknowingly walking straight into a trap, and getting betrayed by Dash. I had a horrible, sinking fear that I wouldn’t see him again. I almost felt—no,
did
feel—like I’d rather be there instead of him. I’d never felt so protective of any guy before, and I was terrified that something might happen to him. Did this mean I loved him?

But there was no time to dwell on feelings. I dialed Axl and held the phone to my ear. It went straight to voicemail without ringing. I tried again, with the same result.

“Ash,” I said, my voice starting to rise in panic, “I’ve gotta get outta here and get to him.”

“You gotta talk to Big Mikey,” she said. “This way!”

She rushed down the hall, leading the way to Big Mikey’s office, and I scurried behind her. When we got to the door, she barged straight in without knocking. Big Mikey was sitting behind a big mahogany desk, looking down at a financial ledger book, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He looked up in surprise.

“Just what-“ he began, but Ash cut him off.

“Mikey,” she said, puffing, “Listen to Holly.”

He looked at me, cocking an eyebrow.

“Axl’s in danger,” I said breathlessly. “And he’s not picking up his phone.”

“Whoa,” said Big Mikey, “Slow down. Start from the beginning.”

I explained to him as quickly as I could. But before I could finish, he shot upright out of his chair.

“Stop right there,” he said, “Getting my guys, and we’re going. Jesus, he didn’t tell me the Demons were involved in this, or I woulda kicked ‘em the fuck outta here.”

“It’s good you didn’t,” I said urgently. “If we hadn’t run into those Demons, we’d never have known. But you have to take me along.”

Mikey shook his head. “Can’t do that. Axl asked me to keep you safe, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“I can handle myself,” I said. “I won’t get in your way. I’ll go crazy if I’m waiting here.”

He sighed. “Women these days,” he muttered. “Alright. Come. But do exactly as me and my guys say.”

I nodded. I was pumped up with adrenaline, and I wasn’t paying any attention to my aching stomach anymore. I just had to get out of there.

We had to find Axl and warn him before it was too late.

Big Mikey crossed the room, his pace quick, and opened the door. “Let’s go,” he said.

The next day, I was waiting for the guys at the Rock Tavern. Same time, same place. It was quiet this afternoon, not a lot of folks drinking. As if all was calm before the storm.

I ordered a double whiskey on the rocks that I was nursing when they showed up. I needed to be on fuckin’ point. We only had one chance to get this right.

I tipped my head to Dash and Red as they slipped into the leather booth opposite me. “Afternoon, boys,” I said.

“Afternoon, boss,” said Red. Dash gave me a solemn nod, and we all leaned in close.

“So, boss,” said Dash, “How do you want to do this?”

I smiled. That was the question that’d been on my mind all night.

There were just so many fuckin’ options, I didn’t know which one to pick. A bullet to the head. A bullet to the heart. Chloroform overdose. Or maybe just an old-fashioned beating ’til that fucker stopped breathing. Each method was just so special in its own way, but it was a tough decision, ‘cause that cunt deserved ‘em all.

“Well,” I said, “I’ve been thinkin’ about that. And while I’d love to mess him up real good, we gotta make this clean.”

“Agreed,” said Red.

“Ain’t nobody can find a trace. So we’re doin’ this with a good old bag over the head. Plus,” I added, “I’m tired of being caked in blood all the damn time.”

Dash laughed softly. “Understood.”

Red nodded.

“Lynch swings by his place every Thursday at eight,” Dash said, “Before hitting the strip club.”

I swirled the whiskey around in my glass, mixing it up with the melting ice. Then I tipped it to my lips and threw my head back. The liquid burned my throat on the way down, and I loved every second of it.

“Good,” I said. “We’ll be waitin’ for him when he shows up.”

“What about the body?” asked Red.

“I don’t want a single fuckin’ trace of that cunt left anywhere on this planet,” I said. “And you know what that means.”

“Do we?” asked Red.

I nodded. “If there’s somethin’ strange in your neighborhood, who you gonna call?”

“Mr. Clean,” said Dash.

“You’re goddamn right,” I replied. “Clean’s the only motherfucker I trust to get every last piece of Lynch outta there. When the wife and kids get back from Florida, won’t even be a stain to remember their old man by.”

Red grinned. “I like how you’re thinkin’, boss.”