Double Trouble: A Bedlam Butchers MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 8) (7 page)

I’m surprised to hear such a passionate plea on my behalf come from brash, cocky Muscle. Of the two, I think he would care less than Beast if I was killed by the Butchers. But to hear him stick up for me...it makes new tears burn my eyes.

“Shy wouldn’t hurt a flea,” Beast agrees, and I keep weeping, because no one’s ever stuck up for me before. Not against Stuart or my father.

“Yeah, and when she came to us, she practically let me rape her because she was so damn scared of her brother. Took her a lot of guts to approach us and ask for protection. She looks tiny, but she’s got a backbone.” After a moment, he adds, “And she deserves a chance.”

“I agree,” says the woman from the corner of the room. I didn’t even realize she was listening in.

“Shut up, Lucky,” Gemini says. “Stay out of this.”

“No,” she retorts. “I’m patched into the club, aren’t I? I get a say now.” Her mouth curves and she smiles at the two men at her side that are scowling at her. “Don’t look at me like that, Solo,” she tells a fierce looking one with sideburns. “If I was in her position, I’d have probably done the same thing. She’s right—she’s not club, and we shouldn’t treat her like she is. She’s not even property. Or at least she wasn’t when she found out the news. Is she now?”

Both Beast and Muscle are silent. “Not until shit gets settled,” Muscle admits.

“So let’s be fair. She’s a civilian,” Lucky says, and shrugs. “No one says civilians have to rat out their brothers, especially if they’re scared of them. I don’t know that I’d rat on Gem here for anything, and I like his ass.” She winks at the hard-faced Gemini. “If he was trying to sell my ass to the Eighty-Eight? I’d have probably headed for the damn hills instead of sticking around.”

No money to do that,
I want to tell her. The thought definitely crossed my mind more than once. That, and Stuart would have been on me like hell on wheels regardless. Fleeing would have just told him he had something to worry about.

“But I have an idea,” Lucky said. “If she’s so fired up to prove her loyalty all of a sudden, maybe we have her help us flush out her brother?”

Plans are made.

The club’s going to keep tabs on Taco for the next day or so. When he heads back to the trailer that used to be the home we shared, I’m going to go in wearing a wire. They’re going to try and squeeze a bit more information out of him, because Lock is his riding buddy, and no one likes to think that Lock might be involved. If there’s a way to bring down Taco and only Taco, that’s what they want to do.

It gives me a bit of hope. Maybe all’s not lost.

Of course, I’m going in by myself. If Taco decides to hold a gun to my head and blow my brains out, no one in the club’s going to mourn.

Or will they? Because that night, I crawl into Muscle’s bed and he clutches me against him. He’s awake, not asleep, and that makes me feel even more treasured and helpless than ever before. Then, Beast climbs in on my other side. Sandwiched between both men, they hold me tight all night long. We don’t talk. We don’t make promises no one is sure they can keep.

We just hold onto each other and wait for tomorrow, because that’s all we can do.

• • •

Muscle’s phone rings, and I jump to hear it. He clicks the button on the burner and lifts it to his ear while I bite my nails, curled up in the back seat of the ‘cage’ with Beast. We took a gray rental car today to try and look inconspicuous, then parked it in a nearby shopping center to wait for the call.

As I watch, Muscle nods. “All right, we’ll send her in.” He hangs up and looks over at me. “You ready to do this, Shy-girl?”

I’m not ready. I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready. But I don’t have a choice, so I nod. I put my hand on the handle to open the car door. Before I can push it open, though, Beast turns my head and angles my face toward his, and he captures my mouth in a rough, claiming kiss.

“Give her tits a squeeze for me,” Muscle says in the front seat.

Beast does, his big hand caressing my breasts as his mouth takes mine. His tongue thrusts sweetly, and I moan against him as he touches me. When he pulls away, I’m breathless and dazed from the intensity of his kiss. “Once things are settled right,” he murmurs, his gaze holding mine pinned, “You, me, and Muscle, we’re going to have ourselves a fuck. Together. Both of us on you. No holds barred.”

“No holes barred,” Muscle corrects from the front seat, and chuckles at his own joke.

I feel my cheeks go scarlet at the promise. “Once things are settled,” I agree. I’m not entirely sure what ‘settled’ means, but it sounds promising. With one last kiss, I get out of the car.

The wire feels weird against my chest. It’s taped between the valley of my breasts, and the wire snakes down through my panties. My shirt’s oversized and baggy so it’s not like Stuart will be able to tell, but I feel conspicuous. I touch my mouth, still swollen from Beast’s kiss. I want this to go right, because I want that night with him and Muscle like he promised. No one holding back anything.

There’s trash piled in bags by the front door of the trailer, because I haven’t been here to take it out. Off to one side of the house, I see what’s left of my little Metro. At least, I’m pretty sure that burned out, bullet-riddled husk was my car. CUNT is spray painted on the bumper, a testament to how my brother’s feeling at the moment.

My brother’s Harley is nowhere to be seen, though. No cage, either. For a moment, I question if Beast and Muscle are lying to me. If the trap’s for me instead of my brother. But then I think of Beast’s sweet kiss and shake that thought out of my head. If they wanted me dead, I’d be dead already.

And Beast and Muscle stood up for me, which makes me feel warm inside.

I try my key on the front door and it works. Inside, I can hear a TV blaring a video game, and I steel myself, then push in as if nothing’s going on.

The living room is a mess. Blankets, pizza boxes, and empty beer bottles are everywhere. The TV is blasting, but no one’s sitting in front of it. It feels...deserted. Like he knew I was coming and left. But that’s wrong, isn’t it? He doesn’t know I’m here. That’s the purpose of this.

I turn off the TV. I’m just imagining things. It’s not like this is the first time Stuart’s left the TV and his game going and got up and left. He’s careless about things. Lots of things, really. “Hello?” I call out, but no one answers.

Maybe I’m home alone after all, and the guys had it pegged wrong.

I quickly stick my head into the kitchen, then pace down the narrow hall of our trailer. No brother. No one at all. “Is anyone home?”

No response.

I head into my room to see if he’s destroyed it like he did my car. But no, everything’s put away like it normally is, my bed neatly made. For some reason, this makes me feel weirder than if he had destroyed things. I’m not sure if he’s expecting me to come back, or what. I pull open my drawers of clothing. Still folded. I tug aside a few shirts, looking for the gun I keep hidden. No one knows about it but me. It’s my safety for whenever Taco has rowdy friends over, in case things get out of hand. Now, I tuck it into an overnight bag and then begin to stuff clothes on top. I can pick up some of my stuff, at least.

Maybe it’s because I’m distracted that I don’t hear Stuart come up behind me. All I know is that a moment later, a hand is on my throat, choking the air out of me, and then I’m thrown backward, onto my bed.

I land with a crash and roll off the other side, onto the floor. The wind gets knocked out of me, but I still struggle to my feet.

“Did they finally kick your sorry ass out, Cheyenne? What’s the matter? Couldn’t suck enough dick to keep them happy so you had to come crawling home?”

I might have known that Stuart’d be waiting to take me off guard. Lurking like the thug he was. I crawl back to my feet and glare at him. “Fuck you.” I’m glad there’s no stutter this time, just pure hatred.

“I have to say, though, I’m glad to see your scrawny butt,” he tells me with an ugly smile. “I know someone that’s willing to trade decently for some pussy, even if it is slightly used. He likes his girls tiny like you, and unwilling.” He gives me an awful look. “And I’m just betting you’ll be unwilling for what he wants to do.”

I force myself not to show any emotion. Strangely enough, I’m not scared. Not of Stuart. Not anymore. I feel like all the cards are out on the table now, and it’s a relief instead of a worry. I stand up straight. “You can’t do anything to me.”

His mouth twists. “What, you finally found a backbone? Fucking a few ugly mugs do that to you?”

I roll my eyes. “Just fuck off, Stuart. Quit being a prick and get out of my face.” Not that I plan on staying here, but it sounds like something the old me would say.

“I have to say, I’m not fond of the new you, Cheyenne,” Stuart says, striding toward me. “It’s a good thing my new friends are willing to take you off my hands.”

“The Eighty-Eight?” I sneer. “Some friends. I thought you already had friends, but even your own club doesn’t like you.”

In the next moment, his hand wallops my cheek and I fly backward onto the bed again. “Shut your fucking face, you stupid cunt.” Then, his hand is on my throat again and his weight is pinning me to the bed. I push at his hands, but I can’t get him to budge. “What exactly did you tell them?” I beat my hands against his, but my brother’s twice my size and solid, and I can’t move him. Stars dance at the edges of my vision, until he finally lets his grip up a little so I can speak, and he repeats his question. “What did you tell them?”

“Everything,” I rasp. “I told them everything.”

His hands flex tight on my throat, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kill me for sure. Then, he loosens up again. “Liar. We’d both be dead if that was the case.”

“It’s true,” I maintain, then lead into what I came to find out. “I told them all about you and Lock working with the Eighty-Eight.”

He stares at me hard, and then Stuart laughs and bounces off of me. “You told them Lock was with me? That Boy Scout? That’s gonna be a surprise for him when they come for his ass, then.”

“So...he’s not with you?” I choke out. My throat’s killing me but I want the truth.

“Never heard of this Lock jackass,” a new voice says, and I look over to see a skinny, ugly man with a swastika tattoo on his neck. He’s playing with a knife, and as I stare, he gives me a wicked look. “You been spreading rumors again, Taco boy?”

“Lock’s my ride partner, and no, he ain’t involved. No one knows about this shit but me and you.” His gaze lands on me. “And this big-mouth bitch.”

“She’s your sister.” The Eighty-Eighter says with a leering grin at me. “Ain’t you gonna be upset if something happens to her?”

“Blood runs cold in this family,” Stuart says, watching me as I wriggle my way to the back of the bed and roll off the other side. “I don’t give a fuck if she dies, just as long as she doesn’t talk.”

“That’s easy enough to do,” says the Eighty-Eighter, stepping forward. He runs his tongue along his knife-blade and grins at me wickedly. “No tongue, no talk.”

My gaze darts between the two men. “You’re too late,” I tell them, feigning bravery. “The Butchers already know about everything. Stuart can’t ever show his face again or they’ll kill him.”

Stuart looks uncomfortable, his narrow-eyed gaze on me.

“Bullshit,” the Eighty-Eighter says. “If that was the case, you think they’d let her free? They’d hold her as collateral against you.”

“They know he doesn’t care about me,” I say, edging toward the bag I’ve packed. It lies on the floor, discarded, and along with it, the gun I keep in there for emergencies. This qualifies as an emergency if anything ever did. But the bag is a few feet away. I need to get closer.

Taco just rubs his unshaven jaw, clearly undecided. “Most pussy gets discarded after a panty raid.” He gives me a speculative look. “She’s been gone a week, shacking up with Beast and Muscle.”

“Those the ones that killed my boys in the desert the other night?” The Eighty-Eighter asks.

“Yeah. They’re club enforcers.”

I grow cold. I think of the night they both came in from the desert, sandy and exhausted, and Jason had bad dreams. So that was what happened. It changes nothing, though.

But for the Eighty-Eighter, his grin gets uglier and he looks over at me again. “Then I’ve a mind to send her back in pieces. Just to say hello.”

They’re talking about me as if I’m not here. As if I don’t exist. It’s arrogant as fuck, but maybe I can use it. I curl up against the wall and whimper, pretending to be beside myself with fear. Even as I do, I try to inch closer to my bag, and to my gun.

Stuart just gives a snort of disgust. “She’s pathetic. Do what you want with her.”

The other man grins. “I will. You got some rope?”

“Back shed. What you want it for?”

He winks at my brother. “Little fun first.” He looks over at me and licks the corner of his mouth in a gross gesture. “I like my girls a bit broken before I dispose of them.” He points at Stuart. “Watch her for me and I’ll be back.”

The man disappears into the hall of the trailer, whistling.

“Don’t do this,” I say to Stuart. “Just d-d-don’t.”

“Shut the fuck up, retard,” Stuart says, not even looking over at me. “I should have gotten rid of you years ago.”

My eyes prick, because my brother is so casual about destroying his sister. It’s like he says—blood runs cold in our family. Never was that more true than now.

A shot cracks through the silence of the trailer, followed by the shatter of glass.

That’d be the boys. Stuart’s eyes widen and he jumps forward, rushing down the hall. As he does, I grab for the gun in my bag and flip the switch to unlock the trigger.

“Goddamn it,” Stuart yells down the hall. “You brought them fucking here? You
cunt
!”

“T-t-t-that’s me,” I agree, stepping out into the hall with the gun raised and ready to shoot. Stuart is at the end of the hall, pressed against the wall toward the kitchen. There’s a huge, serrated knife in his hand. Stuart always did prefer knives.

Ahead of him, I can see a pool of blood spreading on the linoleum, where I’m guessing the Eighty-Eighter is bleeding out...if he’s not already dead.

My brother looks over at me, disbelief on his face as he realizes my weapon’s better than his. “You know what they say,” I begin calmly. “Never t-t-take a knife to a g-g-gun fight.”

“Now, Cheyenne,” he says in a placating tone, his eyes on my gun. I know my brother. I know his tells, and he’s going to try and take this gun from me. Just let him try.

“I sh-should have gotten rid of you years ago,” I say, parroting his words back to him.

His eyes narrow, and then he springs for me.

I fire, mostly because I know he doesn’t expect me to.

The bullet hits him in the throat. There’s an awful spray of blood, and then my brother slumps to the floor, nearly decapitated. What’s left of his throat is a bloody mess, and I’m wearing half of it. The urge to vomit rises in my throat, along with panic.

I’ve killed a man.

The front door breaks in, and a moment later, Beast is inside, holding his gun and scanning the room, wild eyed. From the kitchen, Muscle busts in with his gun, and then they both stare at me.

“Well, damn,” Muscle says, a small laugh escaping him. “Guess we should send Shy-girl after all our snitches.”

The gun slips from my fingers and clatters to the floor, and I sink to my knees, feeling weak. Then, Beast is there, holding me and wiping gore from my face with his t-shirt. “Secure the house,” he tells Muscle. “I’ve got her.”

I burrow against Beast’s big, safe body. It’s true. He’s got me. And in his own brash way, Muscle has me, too. They’re my family now.

And Lock. “Lock is innocent,” I tell Beast as he wipes my face.

“I know,” he says. “We heard everything through the wire.”

Oh. I’d forgotten I was wearing it. So they heard all the awful things Stuart said to me. For some reason, tears pool up in my eyes at that. “I s-s-s-stuttered,” I tell him, and start to sob. “I didn’t w-w-want to st-stutter but I did.”

“I know, baby girl,” Beast tells me, voice soothing. “It doesn’t mean you were any less badass.” And he holds me tight and murmurs words of encouragement and affection as he holds me and cleans my brother’s blood from my face.