Axl (Sons of Chaos MC #1) (16 page)

I nodded. “Dash,” I said.

“Yo.”

“You got a copy of the keys to his place, right?”

“Right.”

“Then we meet here tonight, seven o’clock. Parking lot. We take one cage to his place and stake out his living room. Lights out. And we wait for him.”

Red nodded. “Let’s do this.”

“It’s on,” said Dash.

I showed up in the Rock Tavern parking lot at six-fifty in the hatchback cage that I’d jacked. Sat in the driver’s seat while I waited. Damn, I missed the girl. Wished I could take her to bed for the night instead of dealing with fucking Lynch. Wished I could make love to her all night, exploring every inch of her body. There was still so much more of her to conquer, to own, and I wanted all of it.

Dash showed at two minutes ’til on his bike. He locked up his helmet and walked across the parking lot to my cage. I unlocked the passenger side and he got in.

“You ready to do this?” I asked, my voice hard as steel.

“Yeah,” he said. “But Red can’t make it.”

My eyes narrowed. “What d’ya mean, ‘can’t make it?’”

“A couple guys got messed up in a rumble today. Reapers. He’s our only medic right now. Working on them back at the clubhouse. Sends his regards.”

Fuck. Me and Dash would have to make this work. But I didn’t fucking like starting this off one man short.

“Alright,” I said after considering. “Let’s roll.”

We hit the road and got to Lynch’s place about half after. It was an old strong adobe house in the suburbs of Mesa. Flat, short but wide, and the color of clay. The street was quiet, the horizon blue and orange, colored by the setting desert sun. The neighborhood was peaceful, oblivious to the violence that was about to go down.

We parked the cage one street down from Lynch’s place, and walked to the property. We went around the back, where there was a small, dead lawn and a big inflatable pool. Must’ve been his kids’. Damn, I felt bad for the poor little fuckers, but I didn’t have a choice. Their dad was the worst kind of scumbag. God knew I might be doing his kids a favor by getting rid of him. I carried a crowbar with me, and I crammed it into the frame of the sliding glass door on the back patio. As I wedged the door open, I said, “You ever met Lynch’s old lady?”

“Yeah,” said Dash. “She’s alright.”

“Good,” I said, thinking back to my childhood in the foster system. “’Cause she’s about to be a single mom.”

I pried with the crowbar, grunting as I applied force, and the sliding glass door finally popped open. “Hold this,” I said, passing the crowbar to Dash. I grabbed the door handle and pulled it hard, wrenching the door open.

We stepped inside, and I surveyed the living room. Typical family feel. Pretty clean. Not what you’d expect from a biker. I wondered how Lynch had become such a piece of shit. From seeing his place, you’d have thought he was a totally normal guy.

Dash followed behind me, looking around.

“Nice,” I said, tapping my boot on the tiled floor. “Easy clean-up if things get messy.”

“Yeah,” said Dash. From behind me, his voice sounded unusually tense.

“Everything good, man?” I said, looking around the room for the best hiding spot.

“Yeah,” said Dash. “Hey VP,” he said. “Come here and look at this.”

I pivoted around on one heel.

The last thing I saw was Dash raising his arm, and bringing the crowbar smashing down onto my head.

Our convoy rumbled down the highway, seven or eight bikes in front of us. I sat in the passenger seat of the chase vehicle, a van that followed the bikes in case one broke down. Its cargo area was outfitted with tie-downs for two bikes, and it was also outfitted as a makeshift ambulance. These NOMADs really knew how to prepare.

I was worried sick about Axl after what that Demon told me. I’d been calling him nonstop, but none of my calls were getting through. They all went to voicemail, and now I’d completely filled up his inbox. I’d blown up his phone with texts.

Nothing. Nothing was getting through, and I had no way to reach him. I was horrified at the thought of losing the only man that I’d ever truly wanted to be with. I thought back to how it felt to be in his arms, to be snuggled up against him at night, and to have the security of knowing that he’d do anything—absolutely anything—to protect me. I’d never met a man like that before and I doubted I ever would again. I wanted him to be safe and healthy, and I wanted us to be together.

“Where do we look first?” I asked Big Mikey.

“When we chopped that cage y’all rode in, we threw a GPS tracker on it,” said Big Mikey.

“You what?”

“That’s SOP,” said Big Mikey. “Standard operating procedure. We like to keep tabs on the vehicles that pass through our shop.”

“Well,” I said, “I hope it pays off. Do you know where it is now?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Mesa suburb. Been sitting on a residential street for the last half hour. Got my guy back at the compound researching points of interest around the area. We’ll find out what’s around there and get to the bottom of this. Try calling again.”

I dialed Axl again with the same result. “Nothing,” I said.

Big Mikey’s face was grim. “Alright. Hang tight ’til we get there.”

We rode in silence for about ten minutes, then Big Mikey’s cell phone rang. “Yo... Apple Grove and Campbell Street. Got it.” He hung up the phone. “We’ve got an intersection on the vehicle.”

My heart thumped hard in my chest, and the next fifteen minutes passed as slowly as an eternity. Finally, as we approached our highway exit, Big Mikey passed the bikes and led the way into the suburbs. The streets got smaller and smaller until we were in the twists and turns of a small neighborhood. The sun was going down, but it was still light out. I was worried about the convoy of bikes attracting attention, but Big Mikey didn’t seem worried about it, and I trusted his judgment.

Finally, I saw a street sign that said “Campbell,” and we turned onto it. “There!” I blurted, pointing to the now-repainted hatchback. I unbuckled my seat belt and started to open the passenger door before Big Mikey even stopped the van.

“Wait—“ he said, but I jumped out of the van the instant it lurched to a stop, and rushed across the street to the car.

It was empty—no sign of Axl.

Big Mikey jogged up next to me, cupped his hands against the glass of the car, and looked inside. “Damn,” he said. “Alright, lemme make a call.” He dialed on his phone again. “Yo. We’re here but car’s empty... Yeah... Results from the database? Addresses to check out? I can’t just go knockin’ on every door on the street... Okay, great.” He hung up and looked at me.

“We got a lead. The Sons’s road captain lives one street down.”

“Road captain?” I said. “Shit, that’s Lynch!”

“Oh, fuck,” said Big Mikey, his face dropping. “Let’s go.”

Big Mikey and I walked toward the next street on the sidewalk, moving fast, leaving the chase van parked where it was. A couple bikers rumbled on the street next to us, turning their heads back and forth and scanning for any signs of danger. Big Mikey kept his right hand on the gun under his jacket.

We passed a man and woman walking their dog, and they eyed us worriedly, walking off the sidewalk into the dirt and slinking around us. I was definitely beginning to understand biker psychology. The power was addicting. It felt good to have people step out of your way.

But I didn’t have time to ponder the subtleties of power dynamics right now. All I wanted was to find Axl safe and sound.

“That’s the one,” said Big Mikey, pointing to a short, tan adobe house. We rushed across the street, almost running. There were no cars in the driveway. I jumped forward to run up the steps to the front door, but Big Mikey put out one arm and held me back. He drew his gun and stepped toward the door, cautiously. He reached out to the handle and wiggled it. “Locked. Around the back.”

My whole body was tense, and I was afraid of finding the worst. The house was too quiet.

I followed Big Mikey around into the backyard. “Door’s been forced,” he said. “Stay put ’til I give a signal. I’m goin’ in.”

I stood nervously on the back porch, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to steady my breathing. Two more bikers came around the side of the house on foot, and entered where Big Mikey had gone in. I heard scuffling and yelling inside, but it didn’t sound like a fight. Finally, I heard, “
Shit!
Clear!” Then, my heart sank when I heard the word “
Medic!
”

Big Mikey came bounding out of the house.

“He’s hurt bad. But he’s breathing.”

When I woke up, I had no fuckin’ clue where I was. My head was pounding something fierce. A million times worse than any hangover. Never felt anything like that in my goddamn life.

My first reaction was to call out for Holly. Had she been with me? Did these fuckers get their hands on her?

My second reaction was to start swinging, and I caught a motherfucker right on the jaw. Blood sprayed out of his busted lip, and droplets spattered onto my face and lips. Not fucking again. I spat, trying to clear out my mouth. I tasted the unmistakeable, metallic flavor of blood.

“Fuck!” A voice shouted. “Hold him down.”

I tried to swing again. If I was going down, I was taking this motherfucker with me, whoever he ways. But I felt my hands being held down at my sides. “Fuck!” I screamed. My vision was blurred, and I couldn’t fucking see shit.

“Axl! It’s me,” said a soothing female voice.

“Holly?” I said, bewildered. I tried struggling again, but I was completely pinned down.

“Babe, it’s me,” she said. “You’re alright.”

My cloudy vision began to clear. I looked side to side. I was in some kind of compartment, lying on my back. Holly sat to my left, and a biker I didn’t recognize sat to my right. He was holding a towel to his mouth, and it was stained red.

“Where am I?” I said, dazed.

“Axl, it’s me. We found you in a house. Bleeding on the floor.” She reached out and pushed my hair up, caressing my forehead. “Tell us what happened.”

I was still woozy. “Who’s this motherfucker?” I stumbled over my words as I spoke.

“The medic,” said the biker gruffly. “Don’t fuckin’ hit me again.”

What the fuck? A medic?

“Where am I?” I repeated.

“In the NOMAD ambulance,” said Holly. “Mikey’s driving. Tell me what happened,” she repeated.

I tried to think. Suddenly, it came back to me. “Shit,” I said weakly.

Dash. That coward. The pain of the betrayal I felt was a thousand times worse than the pain in my head.

“Went to get Lynch...” I said. “Dash... Double-crossed me.”

The medic biker spoke up. “Don’t move your head. Can’t believe you’re still kickin’ after taking a blow like that.”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice trailing off. “He smashed me with a crowbar.”

“Axl, babe,” said Holly. “I ran into a Demon at the compound. He said Dash was in on it. Tried calling you a million times.”

“Damn,” was all I could muster. Fucking technology and I did not get along.

“I have to get back,” I said, “and find Dash.”

The medic shook his head. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while, man. They left you for dead. Can’t believe you even made it. Here comes a poke.”

I grimaced as I felt an IV being inserted into my arm. I was covered in ink, but I fuckin’ hated IVs.

“We’ll figure it out later,” said Holly. I strained my eyes to see her without turning my head. She looked so damn beautiful, even with her face covered in worry.

“Be back,” said the medic. He stood up and shuffled around the cramped van cabin, heading for the passenger compartment, leaving me and Holly alone.

“Babe,” I said, “Kiss me.” Holly leaned down, and gave me a gentle peck on the lips, as if she were afraid to hurt me with a kiss. I must’ve looked pretty fucked up.

“Axl,” she said, “Is this all worth it?”

“Can’t let Lynch and Dash get away with this... They gotta pay.”

“But babe,” she said, her voice a mixture of concern and frustration, “This is the second time you’ve cheated death since I met you. You won’t keep getting lucky.”

“Worked for me so far,” I said, trying to muster a grin. The muscles in my cheek felt like they didn’t want to move, but it must’ve worked because Holly smiled back weakly.

“Axl, what if we just go? Go far away from here, and don’t look back.”

I was getting annoyed. Not only did I have to defend myself from my friends and enemies now, I also had to defend my choices to Holly?

“Everybody gets busted up sometimes,” I said stiffly. I felt lightheaded, and a wave of nausea passed through my belly.

I guess I could see her point. But there was no fuckin’ way I could let this slide. It went against everything I stood for. “Is that what you do?” I asked. “Just run away from your problems when shit gets rough?”

She stopped stroking my forehead, and sat back. “These aren’t normal problems. Normal problems are putting food on the table, finding a babysitter for the kids, or working late. This is fucked up, Axl.”