The Run (The Hell's Disciples MC Book 4) (29 page)

“I never lied to you.”

“There’s, like, two hundred grand here, and fake fucking ID’s.” He kicks the money around. “What am I supposed to think?” Watching him kick my life’s savings hurts.

“You’re supposed to listen to me and consider it before you make a judgment.” Letting out a loud humorless laugh, he shakes his head.

Wincing, I kneel down and start picking up my money. Picking up each bill, I start stacking them in my hand. “I’ve worked hard for this,” I tell him, although I can sense he doesn’t care, and I’ve worked damn hard for it, but Buck just continues to laugh at me, not believing a damn thing I say.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” he says with disgust tinting his words. He assumes I’ve earned it on my back, and he couldn’t be more wrong about that.

“I’ve risked and ruined my life for this two hundred grand,” I spit at him. This money wasn’t easily acquired. I’ve saved and I’ve hustled for it for so many damn years. 

Buck is no angel himself. I may not know details or particulars, but I’m sure there is a body count somewhere out here in these woods. Drugs, stolen goods, laundered money. There is no room between him and I for judgment.

“Don’t judge what you don’t know shit about.”

His eyes widen a fraction, but he crosses his arms defiantly. I know he’s not truly interested. Buck has already made his mind up about me in the four seconds he’s seen my secrets. Two months of time spent together has gone down the shitter with his judgment. “Enlighten me then.”

“All of this,” I grit out bitterly. If he wants to be enlightened, I will happily comply. I’ll let it all hang out. “This money is for my mother and my future. I was born at a fucking clubhouse, which was the start of my life that wouldn’t amount to much.” One just like his, with guys just like him. Hell, I suspect my father was someone just like Buck, a biker. I might have been born with shitty circumstances, but I’ve always been determined to make the best of what I have and know.

“I have no real birth certificate, no real identity. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? My mother always wandered from place to place.” So I had no damn time to settle and learn anything. “I had no home. With no stability and an unstable, useless mother, I learned to do whatever I had to do to live. I’d lie, cheat, or steal to eat. If I didn’t want a dead mother, the only person I had in the world, I did what I needed to do to keep her alive. She had an expensive habit and I had the skills. Her and I, we did what was needed.”

Swallowing rough, Buck starts scrubbing at his face and pacing, walking back and forth in front of the bed again. I watch him wear a path into the old wood floors before he stops and looks at me with suspicion still in his eyes.

“Who are you? Out of all those fucking ID’s, which one are you?”

“Lennon.” I never lied to Buck. I omitted and skated, but I’ve never openly lied to him. I care about him too fucking much to lie to him. He helped me when he didn’t have to. I wouldn’t do that to him.

Watching me, something seems to dawn on him. Buck’s face changes from hurt to furious. Bracing myself, I wait for it, even if I don’t know what it will be.

“You’re in on it, aren’t you?” That certainly wasn’t what I was expecting him to accuse me of.

“In on what?” I whisper, hugging my knees. Suddenly, I’m really cold.

“Fuck! I can’t believe I let your ass in.” Shaking his head, he grabs for my arm. “And after all the shit I told you.” He rants, jerking me off the floor and onto my feet. He drags me towards the door, giving me a look of pure hatred, pure loathing.

“What?” I squeal when his fingers dig in between the muscles of my arm as he pulls me after him.

“Let’s go. Gotta figure out what the fuck to do with you.”

16 - Hustled

Buck

Leaning against the door to room ten at the motel, I try like hell to make sense of everything. I’m so goddamn confused and torn. 

Through the door, I can hear Lennon and her tears, and they fucking gut me. Tears from those bright and happy eyes crush me. I hate that I hurt her, but I hate even more that I let her hurt me. I’m tough, but I can only take so much shit.

I couldn’t sit there in the room we’ve been sharing and watch her pick up each bill, counting it, like I’d skimmed some off the top. She counted it without a goddamn ounce of remorse or guilt on her face.

She apologized for not being more forthcoming with me, but at that moment, her words didn’t mean shit to me. I moved her into my place, spilled my fucking guts, and she repays me with lies and secrets? Not fucking cool.

I listened to her story. She told it with zero emotion. I want so goddamn bad to believe her, but I’m not sure that shit’s possible for me anymore. Everything Ben accused her of makes perfect sense, but everything she said makes sense too. Who do I trust? My brother, the man who’s had my back in every possible situation, or some woman I just met. Fuck, Dan wouldn’t have just brought her here if he didn’t trust her. Then again, Lennon seems like a top-notch con artist.

Christ, my head is spinning.

“Brother, we’ll get this shit figured out,” Rock says, slapping my shoulder. “I don’t think Lennon would be in on all this other shit.” I didn’t think so either, but she’s got a fat wad of unaccounted for cash, and a pile fake ID’s up the goddamn ass. I’ve seen her hustle with my own two eyes; cards with the guys, darts with Rock, and she was all too happy to bet money on me at the party. But is she really here to hustle me?

“Fuck, I hope so.” Because I like her. I really fucking like her, and I’d hate to have to bury her.

“What’s the verdict?” Rock asks, Dan leaning back in his chair. I aired my grievances, let all that shit hang out, and I’m just as fucking torn as I was before.

“I’ve got nothin’.” Dan shakes his head. He was in that room with Lennon for an hour, pressing her for information, and he doesn’t know any more than I do. “Said she doesn’t know the Raiders.”

“Fuck. I just don’t know if believe that shit,” I yell, letting my emotions get the best of me. This is why I didn’t want Lennon in my life in the first place. Keep putting myself out there, and I keep getting shit on.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up,” Dan says, pointing me back into my chair. “Don’t go sayin’ shit you’ll regret. You’ve been through some shit. No one would blame you if you didn’t believe her, but this shit stinks of the Raiders. You think that one woman killed a brother, stole some money from us, and shot up the motel? The one she was sleepin’ in?” Fuck, I don’t know.

“Don’t think she executed it, but she might be their eyes and ears.” I finally admit what I’m sure everyone is thinking.

“Worry her later, brother, we got heads to knock.” Nodding once, Dan stands up, the chair smacking into the wall. “Only one way to find out who the hell is in on this shit,” he concedes ominously. “We lock it down and we start war.”

“String him up,” Dan instructs, whipping his hands on his jeans. “Tight,” he adds before disappearing through a side door.

Don’t have a single fucking clue how Dan, Rock, and Tyler got a hold of a Raider, but I’m not gonna question it.

Bodies are fucking heavy, heavier than you’d expect, especially when they’re knocked the fuck out. Out cold, a member of the Road Raiders lies on the old wood floor of a little shack out back.

Poncho is working a rope around the fucktards tied hands, looping the rope and making a knot. Poncho is grunting and muttering to himself. The fucking Boy Scout takes five fucking minutes before he’s throwing the other end over a beam and hoisting the asshole up. 

“’Bout goddamn time, man,” Tyler gripes.

“Fuck you. Excellence takes time, shithead,” Poncho grumbles, giving the guy a nudge, watching him swing from the rafters, inspecting his handy work. “He’s up there, ain’t he? So shut the fuck up.”

Walking the length of the room, I stare at the man hanging by his hands from the ceiling. Wearing an old beer T-shirt, pants one size too small for his fat gut, and his disgusting cut, I can’t wait to play piñata with him.

Dan comes back into the room, carrying an old crate full of rusty shit; saw, hammer, wrench.

“Let’s get this shit handled. Got real business to tend to.”

Gotta admit, this dude is fucking tough. Slapped him around a bit and got nothing. Upped the game with the hacksaw Dan handed me, hoping like fuck it would speed up the process.

“You send her here?” I’m losing my goddamn patience. 

“Fuck you,” he sneers at me, jerking on his bindings. He can jerk and twitch around all he wants to, but there is no way in hell he’s getting out of it. Poncho might be slow as shit, but he’s good with a rope.

“I’m going to fuck you with this goddamn saw, right down your throat if you don’t tell me about the girl.”

I hate that Lennon is even a part of this, let alone, being deep in it. I’m trying not to think of what I’ll have to do if she really is working with them. No amount of money or convincing will keep my brothers from wanting her head. Jess is a bitch, but if Lennon is working with the enemy, there’s nothing I can do to save her.

“You got a bitch on payroll?” I demand an answer, planting a fist in his soft gut. Letting out a pained grunt, he moans, “Fuck you.”

“Tell me!”

Shaking his head, the guy fucking sighs at me, like I’m bothering him or something. “You think we’d employ some cunt to follow you pussy ass motherfuckers around?” He laughs, coughing up blood. “No bitch works for the Raiders.”

I have a feeling I’m not gonna get shit out of this asshole about Lennon. I have no doubt Rock and Poncho will extract some shit about the MC.

“Poncho, get as much as you can from him. He doesn’t walk outta here breathing, and take his cut.” He took our brothers cut, we’re owed his. Fair is fucking fair.

“Buried or burned?” Rock asks.

“Whatever is gonna be slower.”

Instincts tell me that maybe I should have heard Lennon out. Maybe I should have had a little more faith in Lennon.

Walking out into the cold cool air, I lean up against the shed. Pulling out a smoke, I take a drag. Feeling like shit, I start questioning everything.

“You get what you need, brother?” Dan asks, walking up next to me.

“Don’t know,” I answer honestly. I don’t know a damn thing.

“Want a little wisdom?”

“Why the fuck not.”

“Don’t think that girl knows a damn thing. Wouldn’t have brought her around if I did. Lennon might have something to hide, but it ain’t this. This shit is MC, brother. You’re gonna have to learn to trust her if you plan on keepin’ her around.”

I might have already ruined any chance of Lennon sticking around. If she wasn’t going to run a few days ago, I’m sure she is now. Why the fuck would she stick around with me now, after all this?

“Don’t know if we’ll be seeing her again.” The idea of losing Lennon to the world scares me. She’ll run and she’ll be gone, and there won’t be a thing I can do about it. Any other woman, I might be able to convince, but not Lennon. She’s only gonna stay if she wants to, and I hope like hell she thinks I’m worth staying for.

“Tell her you’re sorry and do it with a fuckin’ smile. Fix your shit, brother,” Dan advises. Walking by, he clasps my shoulder and adds, “Trust her.” So much easier said than done.