Bite Deep (13 page)

Corbin looked Jericho square in the face. ‘Yes.'

Satisfied last night had just been a hiccup in the kid's training, Jericho went to walk away, when Corbin called his name. He turned back to see the young man swallow, hands twitching by his side.

‘Some of us have been talking about what happened to Lance,' Corbin began. ‘I guess, we were wondering … if maybe there's something else we could be trying. You know, if we found ourselves turning like Lance.'

Jericho's beast bared its teeth at having his authority challenged, but he kept a tight chain on it. None of his crew questioned his management of Lance and while he knew Corbin was just concerned for his own life, Jericho could not allow doubt to creep into the Dog House about how he managed things. Most of the younger ones hadn't seen Breed in full beast form, but Jericho had and knew they were next to impossible to stop.

‘Rest assured, I've got it under control,' he said.

‘Do you?' Corbin swallowed, looking like he wanted to take his words back. Instead, he went on, surprising Jericho. ‘I mean, why is it that none of the women at Crystal Waters are turning? Why just us? Maybe we need to get Karla over here to help, or something.'

‘You think I need help,' Jericho repeated slowly.

A flush began to make its way up Corbin's neck and his voice rose. ‘I think Crystal Waters has got it better than us. Everyone thinks so. They've got better facilities than the junk we have here. Better wi-fi. Maybe they've got better meds. We deserve exactly what they're getting. We're a superior race, why do we have to live in squalor?'

‘Superior?' Jericho gave a short laugh. ‘In the Breed hierarchy, you're the lowest of the low, kid. Nothing but a mutt. You're lucky you weren't put down outright for being unstable. You're lucky this place exists at all. And as for you and the others here, sitting around and chatting about how you deserve more?' His lips spread in a nasty grin. ‘Well, if we all got what was coming to us, not a one would be on this side of the dirt. Keep that in mind. All of us here are trading on second or third chances. Realise that. And understand that it's your last chance, to be lived as I see fit. You do what I say, you get better, you get to leave here. Understood?'

‘But—' Corbin started to say, stopping when Jericho stepped forward. He let his presence fill the small hut as he stuck a finger in his chest and pressed. Real hard. Corbin stumbled back, face flushing dark.

‘Do you really want to keep talking?' Jericho asked quietly.

A tense silence. Corbin tried to raise his eyes, but didn't get far. He finally just shook his head, head ducking lower.

‘I respect a man with strength,' Jericho continued. ‘I do. But I want you to remember there's a big difference between showing strength and showing insolence.' He backed up. ‘If you, or anyone else, have an issue with the way I run things here, then you spread the word that I'll be waiting.'

Corbin's lean frame shook and Jericho backed off. The young man didn't look up, but Jericho clocked his small frown. He let it go and walked off with a sigh. Once a pack started to question their alpha's decisions, it was time to start watching your back. He filed the problem away, an issue for another day. He'd talk to Turk and they'd make a decision if anything had to be done about Corbin's attitude. But for now, so close after Lance's death and now with the situation with Lydia, he didn't have the stomach. Maybe he was getting soft. Maybe he was getting old and sentimental. Maybe he needed a drink.

All around him, the heavily fortified compound was silent. In the distance, soft light shone from the timber barracks where all men were confined to quarters after eight. No exceptions, save for Jericho's crew and G1s. The lights blazed bright in the clubhouse and he walked over, fatigue dragging at his thoughts.

Inside the clubhouse, Turk and Reaper lounged on a worn leather couch in one corner, watching a movie on the flat-screen. Frost sat at the heavy wooden table in the middle of the room, long fingers flying over a laptop keyboard.

‘Nice to know I was missed,' Jericho said dryly.

‘Knew you wouldn't be staying long,' Turk said, eyes still on the movie. Heavy footsteps approached from outside, then Winger walked in, Blades close behind.

Blades gave Jericho a speculative look. ‘Heard shouting. Someone got a problem?'

‘Corbin.' Jericho settled at the table opposite Frost. ‘He seems to think the men here deserve luxury.'

Turk gave a short laugh. ‘Can't blame them for that.'

Jericho shot him a glare. ‘You want to start complaining too? You think I should be sucking up hard to the pure bloods, on my knees, begging for more?'

‘He didn't mean it like that.' Winger hung in the doorway, shooting Turk an anxious look.

The old biker arched an eyebrow at the prospect. ‘Don't tell me what I mean and what I don't mean.'

‘Everyone just chill, okay?' Blades sat down next to Frost.

‘We're all keeping an eye on Corbin,' Reaper added. ‘But I personally think the kid is coming off the rails. All the signs are there, just like the others.'

‘If he starts stepping too much over the line I'll act then,' Jericho said.

Blades tapped the table with a thoughtful look. ‘From the way that kid was shouting, maybe seems like he's crossed that line already.'

‘You just need to put that boy in his place.' Turk lifted a remote and switched the television off, getting to his feet with a grunt.

‘And I told you,' Jericho started to growl. ‘I'll take care of him when I see fit.'

An awkward silence fell in the room, then Reaper got up from the couch as well, grabbed a six-pack of beer from the fridge and started handing them out. Turk took one and came to the table, but instead of sitting down he settled on a stool nearby, face weary.

‘Did the cop really arrest you about the cow?' Reaper handed Blades a beer, placed a few more on the table for everyone, then sat next to Jericho. ‘It's not a crime to kill a cow, you know.'

‘It kind of is, if it isn't your cow.' Turk fixed Jericho a meaningful look with his good eye. ‘Do you think she's going to be a problem?'

‘No, but something else might be.' Jericho knew he had to come clean. There were no secrets among his brothers. At least, not many. ‘I had a run-in with that shit, Novak, at the station. We got into a disagreement and he hit me with a taser. It overrode my control and I started to revert. She got in the middle of it. I bit her.'

There was a loaded pause, then the everyone started talking at the same time. He held up a hand and the room fell silent. ‘I hadn't fully reverted and I've seen no sign she was infected.'

Blades gave a casual shrug. ‘She has to go, my brother. If she's infected, you know what's going to happen. You're not doing her any favours by prolonging this.'

‘There's no certainty she's infected,' Jericho said firmly. ‘So we're giving her the benefit of the doubt. I take full responsibility for monitoring her.'

His crew exchanged concerned looks, before Blades said, ‘I think that's a mistake.'

‘She's not to be touched.' Jericho sipped his beer, eyes tight on Blades. ‘This is my call to make.'

‘Fine.' Blades shook his head with a disgusted look. ‘What do I care? Your mess.'

‘Alright, Bulldog.' Turk pointed his beer at Jericho. ‘But if this situation blows back on the Dog House, it's on your head.'

‘I hear you,' Jericho said, disappointed Turk hadn't stood with him on this matter. As the most senior member of the MC, Turk's opinion held weight, and the men in the compound respected him. He looked around the room, straightening his shoulders. ‘Where are we at with locating our murderer?'

‘Everyone's up to date about the mysterious Jack Smith,' Frost said. ‘And I've got some boys on surveillance.' He paused, then added, ‘And nothing's been red flagged with recent hunting licenses.'

‘You really think this guy might be a Hunter?' Winger asked in a hushed voice.

‘We'll find out soon enough.' Jericho looked around the room. ‘Anyone find out if Anna Lewis had a boyfriend?'

Blades shook his head. ‘Karla keeps chastity belts on her girls. No men inside the compound.'

‘So she might have been seeing someone outside of it.' He looked at Blades pointedly. ‘You know some of the women, don't you?'

Blades shrugged. ‘Kind of. I don't tend to socialise with them much. Karla keeps them under lock and key, and I like my balls attached to my body.'

‘Find out who they are and when they might be in town next,' Jericho told him. ‘So we can ask if she was seeing anyone.'

‘There's a live band at The Swag Thursday night,' Reaper said. ‘I'll wager there'll be a group of them going.'

‘Thursday night?' Blades looked pained. ‘I've organised a party for that night.'

‘This is more important,' Jericho said. ‘And I'm gonna need you.'

‘Suppose I could be a little late,' Blades sighed.

Chapter 12

Lydia was pretty sure she was drunk when Elaine gave her a dazzling smile and she saw two sets of gap-toothed teeth.

‘See?' Elaine shouted over the music. ‘Aren't you glad I twisted your arm to come out?'

Lydia returned the smile, but still felt unconvinced of the logic of going out on a weeknight. But Elaine had unleashed remarkable persuasive techniques and managed to convince Lydia to join her in attending a live band event at the local backpackers hostel. Tickets had been five dollars, plus a donation to a local children's hospital, all to listen to a New Age band called Third Eye Staring. Somehow, Elaine had even managed to convince Lydia to split a bottle of sparkling wine with her, a drink Lydia rarely touched, due to the smashing hangovers it gave her.

Elaine bobbed her head to the live band, downing her drink and enjoying herself, while Lydia thought the music sounded like herd of goats yodelling. The outside courtyard of the hostel was framed on three sides by buildings and a garden on the other, picnic tables spread throughout. The band was playing on a portable stage that looked like it had seen better days and when she smelled weed on the breeze, she was thankful she'd made the effort to go home and change out of her uniform, with Elaine swinging by to pick her up.

Crowds milled around them, groups of backpackers and locals mingling in various stages of sobriety, everyone seeming to enjoy the music that was beginning to give Lydia a headache.

She tried not to look bored, but her mind kept rewinding the week and running it back on a loop. Since the discovery of Anna Lewis's body Sunday morning, it felt like everything she said or did was wrong, with either Bowden correcting her or The Jaw snickering behind her back. Wednesday morning had been the worst, with Bowden chewing her out for half an hour about her stunt with Jericho the night before. She had just waited for him to finish, holding her tongue about what Novak had done, sensing it would only dig her a deeper hole of trouble. Later, when Elaine had innocently asked Novak about the splint on his finger, he'd just snarled at her about having an awkward fall.

Lydia sighed and rubbed her hand, debating for the millionth time if she should have gone to the medical centre about it. But the ache had gone away and there was no swelling or puffiness, just a nasty red mark. She hoped it would fade soon enough and she could forget all about it.

She picked up her plastic glass and took a large gulp of her drink. Elaine gave her double thumbs up and then topped both their glasses.

‘Have you met anyone in town you're interested in?' Elaine shouted over the music. ‘I have incredible matchmaking skills, you know. It's like a mild super power. I can just sense when people are good for each other, you know?'

‘No thanks.' Lydia downed half her drink in two swallows. ‘I don't exactly have a great track record with men. I think I'm allergic now.'

Elaine laughed, but Lydia noticed her scanning the jostling crowds around them intently, as if she was determined to find her a man there and then. A small dance floor sat in front of the stage area and a handful of people danced to the music, waving hands wildly and jumping around. ‘Nothing like getting back on the saddle, am I right? You just relax and I'll point out some eligible bachelors for you. This town is full of them.'

‘So how come you're single?' Lydia asked.

‘I was married once,' Elaine admitted. ‘Didn't last. Now I just enjoy my freedom.'

‘Sorry to hear it didn't work.'

Elaine snorted. ‘I wasn't. He was a prick. Glad to be rid of him.' She leaned across the table, eyes narrowing. ‘Never get married, Lydia. Never commit to one man. They're more trouble than they're worth, you know.'

Lydia patted Elaine on the shoulder. ‘I hear you, sister.'

‘They're all pricks.'

‘I know.'

‘Except that one over there.' Elaine pointed behind Lydia's shoulder. ‘He looks hot. If you don't snap him up, I will.'

Lydia twisted in her seat to check out who Elaine was talking about, when she spied Novak at a table in one corner. He sat with a group of men, all laughing and pointing at random people. The men he sat with had mean looks about them and their table was littered with empty beer jugs and bourbon bottles. Novak caught her staring and grinned, lifted his good hand, cocked a thumb and pretended to shoot.

Lydia looked away with a frown and finished her drink. Elaine was still gazing in apparent rapture at her dream man for the night, and Lydia clicked her fingers in front of her eyes.

‘Hey, earth to Elaine,' she said.

‘Yeah?' Elaine blinked, trying to focus on Lydia. ‘Did you see him? Buns like peaches. I just want to bite into them, you know?'

‘I saw Novak,' Lydia said.

Elaine glanced around the room before she spotted him and grimaced. ‘You poor thing.'