Call Me...Vengeance: Book 1 in the Vengeance MC Series (17 page)

“Like fuck,” Jay interjects.

Followed by Cami saying,

“Don’t call her a bitch, douchebag. And don’t threaten shit you know they will never let happen. My God, you are not to be believed sometimes.” Facing Bella, she tries for a smile but fails, the split on the left side of her lip making her grimace. “I am so sorry. I can’t believe he brought this here, but for what it’s worth, I am sorry he’s dragged you into it.”

Nix raises his hand, but drops it as Diesel advises,

“Touch her, and I end you. Here. Now. In front of your boys, motherfucker.”

Ripper’s busy eyeing my brother up and down, weighing him up in his mind to determine whether he’s a risk. I can’t let this shit go on, though. It’s turned into a circus act no one wants a part of.

“Hand Cami off to Gage, Nix. We’ll sit, you tell me what this shit’s really about and then you can take yourself and your boys and get on home. Be reasonable, yeah? Because if you’re not, you know we can’t let this stand.”

“Not sure we have anything to talk about, Boss. The way I hear it you’ve taken yourself out of rotation. You’re not even a player in the game anymore. As far as I see it, a man like that doesn’t have a whole hell of a lot of sway. He definitely isn’t someone who’s in any position to be making demands.”

He would think that. But that just goes to show how fucked in the head he honestly is. Vengeance doesn’t back down when it comes to men doing wrong by women and we never will.

“You walked in here, where you knew we’d be, and laid hands on one of my brothers women. The way I see it, the second you decided to put your hands on your sister you threw down. And you think I won’t pick that up, have my brother’s take you for a ride on a dark road with no end other than one you won’t like, then your more fucking deluded than I thought.”

“Try it, asshole,” Nix goads. “Ripper and Worm won’t let you or your boys get two-foot out the door without putting a bullet in your skull, Boss.”

Jesus Christ, he truly is a stupid son of a bitch. He just declared war too.

“How do you think this is gonna play out for you, Nix? Be smart. I’ve got six brothers at my back, you’ve got two. This isn’t a dick measuring contest. You know the firepower Vengeance has backing it, and you know you don’t want to test a man like me. You threw down, now I’m picking up that challenge,” I bark. “The time for reasonable is long fucking gone. Get your boys and get the fuck out.”

Thrusting Cami in Diesel’s direction, nearly tripping, Diesel scoops her into his arms before she hits the floor issuing his own warning.

“You tell Diesel to watch his fucking back. Cami isn’t his, and she never will be. You’re not wrong, though. Reasonable isn’t a fucking option anymore. You’ll be hearing from me, Boss,” he says inclining his head. “And when you do, you’ve just gotta hope your club’s strong enough to come out the end whole. But I promise you now, I’m going to make it my mission to guarantee you don’t.”

Nix doesn’t say another word as he spins his finger signaling for his boys to turn and leave. We knew it was coming. We knew when it did it wouldn’t be in a way we’d see it coming. But we’d never considered it would be over a woman that wasn’t in the fold. Cami might be Diesel’s as far as he was concerned, but she wasn’t Vengeance. She wasn’t a patched old lady, and she hasn’t been officially voted in. Which means, we just answered a challenge over a woman who wasn’t ours to fight for.

Four hours later…

S
itting in the same spot I had been since I arrived on the back of a man’s motorcycle I didn’t know, I was still asking myself the same question too. There was no clear answer, or if there was it wasn’t forthcoming, and I had vowed I wasn’t leaving the safe haven I had found until I had one.

After the altercation at Hounds, Cami had been whisked away by Diesel before I could meet her, Jackson and his brothers made their way back over to the booth.

I won’t lie and say that I hadn’t been terrified by the face-off, I was. How could I not be? Bikers are scary men. Tall, broad, muscular, badass, scary men. But through my fear I could see that Jackson’s club was unmistakably more dangerous than the other. I don’t know how I knew this, I just did.

There was an air of authority, raw power that emanated from Vengeance MC that didn’t come from the other. But in saying that, the other patrons of the bar didn’t appear afraid. If anything, they relaxed once Jackson made his way toward the other men. 

Sliding into the booth, I grasped his arms whispering,

“Is everything okay? That woman who left with Diesel, is she alright?”

“Yeah, Cami’s okay, sweetheart. She’s Diesel’s ex, he’ll make sure she’s okay. And if she’s not, he’ll make it that way,” he confirms resolutely. How about you? You doing alright?”

“Um…ah, yes. I mean, yes, I'm all right,” I stutter.

“You sure about that, sweetheart? It can’t be every day you see a biker showdown. Definitely not your first night out.”

This is true. However, not wanting to delve into my precarious emotional state right now, I ignore his question asking one of my own.

“Are you okay?” Shaking my head ruefully, I curse my own stupidity. Of course, he’s okay. This sort of thing probably happens all the time.

“Hey. What’s that about gorgeous?” He asks tipping my chin until I’m looking into his captivating steel colored eyes.

I’m not sure how to answer that either. What I do know is that I don’t want to answer it truthfully. I highly doubt a badass biker such as him wants to hear I was worried about him. Concerned that he’d be hurt or worse. They aren’t the thoughts of a woman who has only spent a few hours in a man’s presence.

“What’s what about?” I hedge, hoping he’ll let it go.

Focusing all his attention on my face, his gaze traveling between my eyes, down to my mouth and back, he repeats,

“What’s with the tears sweetheart.” As if to illustrate his point, Jackson swipes a thumb across the apple of my cheek, wiping the wetness covering it away.

Wrapping my arms around my middle, I stare at him in awe. I hadn’t been aware I was close to tears, let alone that I’d let one fall. This was something that did not make me happy.

I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings, but this was ridiculous. I had just met this man. Granted, Jackson is not just any man, he’s most women’s fantasy man, but still. I could hardly believe I was letting the fact I cared about him and what happened to him show. Especially like this. It’s not that I’m heartless and don’t care about people, strangers or not, but I certainly don’t cry over men I barely know.

Deciding avoidance is key in this situation, I open my mouth to speak, but thankfully before I can get a word out a huge, bearded, tattooed man interrupts.

“Boss, need a word.”

His voice is as rough and unrefined as he is. Huge, bulky, with broad shoulders that look like they could lift a fallen redwood by himself, and amazing molten chocolate eyes, this man comes close to taking the title of the most good-looking man I’ve ever seen. If I hadn’t seen Jackson first, that is.

“Give me a sec, Deke,” Jackson rumbles. Turning to me, he announces, “I’ve got to go talk to my boys for a minute. Are you gonna be alright here with, Bella?”

Without waiting for a reply, Jackson addresses the two men sitting at the end of the long bench seats.

“Spook, Gunner you’re on guard. You need me you call.”

Both men incline their heads, which I assume in biker code means ‘sure thing.’ Not wanting to be babysat, I offer,

“I think I’ll just head home now, Jackson. I’ve had more than enough excitement for one night. You go and speak to your friend, and I’ll see you around I’m sure.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to work for me, sweetheart.”

“Ah, why not?” I ask, curious what this has to do with him at all.

“Because some shit just went down with one of our women, and you being here with us means that shit could filter down to you,” he replies bluntly.

“I highly doubt that, Jackson. They didn’t see me, and even if they did, they don’t know who I am,” I state cleverly. “I have appointments scheduled for first thing tomorrow so I would have been needing to get home shortly anyway. This situation just makes it sooner rather than later.”

Bellowing over the noise in the bar, Jackson barks,

“Jay, cancel whatever shit Beth has on for tomorrow.”

“On it,” he yells back. Eyes lighting on me, Jay grins giving me a wink before returning to chatting with the man at his left.

“What the hell was that?” I all but shriek. “Who do you think you are? You can’t cancel my appointments, Jackson. That is
not
cool.”

“Who do I think I am?” He growls close to my ear. Running his nose behind my ear, breathing me in my pulse spikes and my hands go clammy. “I think I’m the man who’s going to have you on the back of my bike. I’m the man who’s going to have you in his bed. And I’m the man who’s going to keep you safe. That’s who I am, Sweetheart. Now, you’ve got two choices. You can wait here for me with my guys keeping an eye on you to make sure nothing happens to you, or you can take off and make me hunt you down. I’ll warn you, though. One of the two has consequences I don’t think you’re ready for.”

“Consequences,” I say breathily.

“Yeah, baby. Consequences.”

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t particularly smart of me to ask what they were but I did.

“And what would they be? The consequences I mean.”

“They’d be me finding you, putting you on the back of my bike, taking you to my place, and not letting you lose until I’ve had my fill of you. And I’ve got to say, the way you look, smell, and the promise of your taste, it could be a long time before I’m willing to set you free.”

“Oh my God.”

“No, my name’s Jackson, baby. But when you’re under me and I’ve got my cock inside you I’ll take whatever you wanna call me,” Jackson growls against my skin. “Now, are you going to stay here and let my boys watch over you, or are you going to take off and make me chase you?”

I’m sure it sounds like he was asking a question, but realistically I wasn’t being given a choice.

“I’ll stay,” I state quickly.

“Good choice sweetheart. I’ll be back in a minute, yeah?”

Nodding at him, I feel Jackson kiss the top of my head as he slides out of the booth to go and commune with his biker brethren.

I didn’t see Jackson again, but I did see his friend, the man he referred to as, Deke. Approaching us, Deke flicks his eyes to Spook and Gunner, who had been sitting with me and Bella silent but watchful ordering,

“Gunner, you’ve got Bella. Back to the clubhouse. No detours. No stopping.”

Immediately, Gunner stands offering Bella his hand, heading for the door. Over her shoulder, she calls out,

“See you in a few, honey.”

I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but I found out less than a minute later.

“Beth, darlin’,” he prompts until I take my eyes from Bella’s retreating form and face him. “You’re with me. We’re gonna get you outside on my bike and back to the clubhouse. Boss wants you there until he gets done taking care of some business.”

He doesn’t give me any more, but he does help me up with a firm hand on my elbow. Guiding me outside to a large, black and chrome beast of a motorcycle, Deke explains,

“I’m gonna get on first. You swing your leg over and climb on behind me. All you’ve got to do is put your arms around my waist and hang on, darlin’.”

Following his instructions, I position myself on the small seat behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. I don’t know what riding etiquette dictates, how much space is appropriate to leave. But seeing as I haven’t ever been on a bike before, I plaster myself against his back and hold on for dear life.

The ride wasn’t long, maybe ten minutes, but it was one of the most exhilarating experiences I’ve ever had. In the beginning, I had been terrified of the power Deke was in control of, but within seconds of taking off I learned that he was in complete control of it. He was at one with his machine. And the feeling of freedom that knowledge brought was beautiful.

Pulling up in front of an old, what I assume is a repurposed armory, Deke backs his bike into a free spot along the wall closest to the entrance. The rolling, chain-link fence was operated by two younger men, my guess would be in their early twenties. They nodded to Deke as we rolled in, but no words were exchanged.

I’m starting to think that bikers speak in a mixture of coded hand signal, grunts, chin lifts, and head tips. But what do I know?

After Deke and I dismount, he places a hand on the small of my back leading me inside. The three-story, gray, cinder block building is imposing. It doesn’t blend with its landscape, a lot like the men who inhabit it. It stands tall and proud in its surroundings, demanding it be noticed.

Stopping a few feet inside, Deke tags my arm bring me to an abrupt halt. Letting out a high-pitch whistle, he addresses the room. A room brimming with men, a few scantily dressed women, and Bella.

“Listen up,” he shouts. “This is, Beth. She’s off-limits. Boss’s orders.”

His statement that earns us several grins and more than a few groans. Propelling me forward again, Deke shuffles me toward a semi-secluded corner of the room where there are two recliners, a small table and not much else.

“Boss wants you to stay put until he comes to get you. Don’t wander off by yourself. And don’t talk to anyone you don’t know. All the brothers are good men, you’re safe here. But you’re not wearing a property patch so you’ve gotta be smart and do as you’re told, yeah?”

Cringing at the word ‘property’ I nod but don’t speak. Dray had explained a few biker terms to me during the hours he spent in my chair, and albeit this was one of them I’d never liked the implication of it. I didn’t deem women as property, and while I had tried to understand it from his perspective, I will openly admit I struggled with it.

Scrutinizing me, Deke must see whatever’s necessary to set him at ease.

“Okay, darlin’. You see that man there,” he asks, pointing to an older man nursing what looks to be a glass half-full of bourbon. Again I nod. “That’s Sarge. If you need anything, let him know. He’ll look out for you while I’m gone, and before Boss gets in.”

Deke doesn’t wait for me to answer. More to the point, I think he escapes before I can ask him any questions.

I spent long minutes surveying the huge, open-plan room. The furniture has seen better days, a lot of it with tears in the fabric or well-worn. Polished concrete floors don’t lend themselves to scratched, but nevertheless, they too are damaged, bearing the evidence of years. Pool tables, cheap lighting, crooked framed prints on the walls, this place is every bit what I had imagined a biker clubhouse would be.

Bella was swallowed up by the room not long after I arrived and I haven’t seen her since. I wasn’t worried per se, she’s known these men most of her life, but I was concerned. I would have thought she’d check on me at some point, but obviously not. However, in the just under four hours I’ve been sitting, curled into the brown leather recliner I’m in, I learned a lot about the club and Sarge.

At sixty-two, he’s the oldest Vengeance member, patching in – a new term I learned, which equates to joining – when he was eighteen. He’s never had an old lady, citizen wife, or long-term girlfriend. According to him, the only woman he was ever interested in decided she wasn’t cut out for his lifestyle after being together with him for a little over four months. The way he tells it, she was the one. The only woman that had held his interest, and he wasn’t willing to settle. If he couldn’t have her, he didn’t want anyone.