Blood and Honor (13 page)

“Keep an eye out for ghosts, kid.
Sometimes, things come back to haunt you.”

Crow had always made cryptic statements like that. Dax could almost feel those ghosts now. He had an odd sense of foreboding…like something terrible was going to happen. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up, shaking himself both mentally and physically. Time to get this party started. He was going to round up Wince and Slade and find out what was so important that it had to be dealt with in person. Then, Dax wanted—no,
needed
—to get his family back to the life he had created on that island.

Because this life…it just felt dead.

Chapter Thirty

Alanna hadn’t had a chance to see him yet, but she knew that Dax was here. Part one of her mission was accomplished and she was on pins and needles. She shaved meticulously—everywhere. Her snatch was as bare and as smooth as a baby’s ass. Next, she perfumed up her tits like her cousin had taught her and stuffed her ass into the tightest pair of jeans she owned. A black Phantoms tee and her favorite bra completed the outfit. She decided to forgo the panties—she felt sexier without them.

Alanna applied her makeup and fluffed her dark hair around her shoulders. She gave her lips a final touch up with some pink gloss. Satisfied at last, she did a little pirouette in the mirror.

I look damn good.

Now, all she had to do was wait. There was going to be another yard party tonight. Dax would be here for sure—he was the guest of honor. She overheard the guys talking so she knew that Dax had been back for a couple of days but he’d been keeping a low profile. She sauntered back into the bedroom and had to catch herself from revealing her dismay at who was waiting for her.

“Hey…um, babe. Wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” she said, forcing false cheer into her voice.

“Wow, sugar. Aren’t you a sight for my tired eyes.”

Hawk’s voice sounded heavy but she saw how his face lit up at the sight of her. And how the bulge began to form in his jeans as his eyes dropped from her face to her tits, pushed up and out in her favorite bra.

The Phantoms
’
president had been away from the compound for a few days, but Alanna knew better than to ask him where he’d been. The standard explanation was that he was handling club business, but she had her suspicions. Given the documents she had discovered, Hawk was working with the feds. They had something on him and he was going to turn. No doubt, he’d toss the club under the bus to save his own ass. When it came down to your own neck, that’s what they all did.

He eyed her and then gestured to his pants.

Dammit, I’m gonna have to redo my makeup.

“Can I help you with that, love?” Alanna purred, dropping to her knees between the man’s thighs.

His meaty hand went to the back of her neck, urging her closer. “Watch out for my arm, baby!” she cried. The injury excuse was her saving grace. Hawk didn’t expect much from her when she complained about her healing arm.

Hawk let out a deep sigh as she drew the zipper of his jeans down and deftly removed his cock. Alanna smiled in appreciation. Hawk was a good-looking man, even if he was old enough to be her father. She ran her tongue down his hard length. Yeah, it wasn’t the end of the world. If she was going to debase herself for the greater good, at least the man was well endowed.

Chapter Thirty-One

“You’re in luck, honey! I called that studio—the one the article mentioned. A young girl answered the phone. She said that your sister isn’t there right now. Nope. She’s visiting the town where she went to college—Darling, is it?”

Mickey’s heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst through her chest.

“Rhee’s back in Darling?”

“Sounds that way. Where is that?”

“California.” she responded listlessly. The thought of going back there took the wind from Mickey’s sails.

“California! Honey, that’s just a hop, skip and a jump away. We should be able to get you there much cheaper than we could get you all the way to that island paradise.”

Mickey said nothing. Her vision was doing that funny thing it did sometimes—things were a little blurry. Her head was started to pound. It was about to be migraine city.

“Michaela? Are you okay?”

“I can’t go back there.” she whispered.

Darling had too many bad memories. The cops were probably just waiting for her to show up. Then, there was Dizzy’s crew. Even if the cartel was out of the picture, the Devils might blame her for what happened. The more she thought about it though, she knew that there was no avoiding Darling. If Rhee was there, that was where she had to go.

Mickey chugged coffee all day and most of the night, praying that she would just stay awake forever. Because she knew that tonight was going to be bad—and she was right.

***

Paul was so excited he could hardly contain himself.

“Got ‘em, Mouse.
Now, you do your part and we’re golden!”

She had no idea what he was talking about.
Lately, her stepfather’s behavior had become more and more erratic.
Mickey had seen bruises on her mother’s arms.
Those and the faded yellow patch beneath her left eye were testaments to what was going on behind closed doors.

“You’re gonna make me richer than God, Mouse.
Put this on.”

He tossed a dress at her and she held it up in confusion.
It was another kid’s dress, pink and flowery
—
and several sizes too small.

“I-I can’t wear this!”
she protested, regretting the words even as they flew out of her mouth.

Paul advanced on her.
“Listen, you ungrateful little slut!
You’re gonna put this on and you’re gonna do as I say.
I got us a plan, see?
I did my part, now you’re gonna do yours.”

He shoved her and the offensive dress against the wall so hard that Mickey saw stars.
She turned her back and removed her school clothes with shaking fingers.
When she had managed to pull the pink outfit over her thin shoulders, she felt Paul’s hands on her.

“Perfect.
Just perfect, Mouse.”

His breathing got heavier.
“Wish I could be the one, but I saved you for someone special, baby.
Someone who can afford to pay my debts and then some.
Let’s go.”

He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the car.

“Drink up, kid.”
Paul thrusted a pink Snapple at her and she sipped obediently.
The drove for a long time.
After a while, she felt sleepy—like she was in a bizarre dream.

Her dolly was there, Paul shoved in into her hands.
“Make sure you put this on the nightstand—facing the bed.
Understand?
Hey?
You hear me, kid?”

She felt herself nod; her head was full of sand.
Then, they were at a tall, iron gate.
It opened.
Paul pulled her along by the hand.
It was like she blinked and then she was inside the most lavish estate she had ever seen.

Fountains and roses and silver, oh my.

Then, the man was there.
He said it was her special day.
He gave her cookies and she ate them, savoring their sugary sweetness.

“Is this your dolly, sweetheart?”

Mickey nodded automatically.
They were in the bedroom of her childhood dreams, all white and pink with a beautiful four-poster bed.
She placed the doll on the nightstand, like her stepfather had told her.
Where was Paul, anyway?

“Say yes, Daddy.”

Her head swiveled to the sound of that voice.
It was a voice she would never forget because it would haunt her dreams for years to come.

“What?” she asked, confused.

When she found herself over the stranger’s knee, his erection poking her in the belly, she understood.

And she would never be the same again.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Wince rolled up to
Lenny’s,
and cut his engine. A few moments later, Slade arrived. The two men walked inside to find the place was empty, except for few of the fresher hang-arounds—hopefuls who probably wanted to score an invite to the yard party tonight. Rhonda, the head waitress, served them up two beers and, perhaps picking up on the tension in the air, wisely left them alone.

“Where’s Hawk today?” Slade broke the ice.

“Getting his knob polished.” Wince took a long draught of ice-cold beer.

“Man, that chick is something else.” Slade sounded disgusted as he took his own swig and then wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

“You never dipped your stick in that?”

“She’s got a nice rack, but she’s a manipulative little bitch, man. I wouldn’t get too close to that.”

“Yeah,” Wince agreed. “I feel that way about her too.”

“When’s Dax coming?”

Wince checked his phone. “He said he’d be here in a few minutes.”

It was a good thing they had time for a drink before Dax showed up. There was a lot of shit brewing. Wince was sitting on a stockpile of information about Rhee’s family. For such an nice girl, Rhee had a lot of unsavory people in her past. Wince took another long gulp, draining his beer. He signaled Rhonda for another round. Somewhere, in the pile of crap he dug up about Rhee’s stepfather, he was going to find Mickey. There had to be a connection. He was just sorry it was taking him this long to find it. There would be no more wild goose chases.

This time, he was sure.

But, first things first. Slade didn’t drag them here for nothing.

They were on their third round when the Dax finally showed. He swaggered into the bar, nodded at Wince, and then disappeared up the small staircase that led up to the bartender’s loft. Wince shrugged at Slade. Lenny and Dax had a lot of history. In fact, from what Wince had heard, this particular locale wasn’t the most comfortable place for Dax to be hanging out.

It was the place where his friend and club president, Crow, was murdered right in front of him.

Dax returned a few minutes later, shaking his head. “The man’s fucking heartbroken, bro,” he said, jerking his chin in the direction of Lenny’s upstairs dwelling.

“What happened?” Slade asked.

“Aw, man. His cat…ugliest damn thing I’ve ever seen in my life. She’s sick. Lenny’s a wreck.”

“Curley’s sick?” Wince was horrified. If that cat went, so too would their aging bartender’s thin grip on sanity. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She won’t eat. The damn thing reeks to high heaven, too. Man, that cat is fucking ancient. How long do cats live, anyways?” Dax asked, as Rhonda made a beeline to the table.

“Babydoll!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Dax like they were long lost lovers. Rhonda was old enough to be Dax’s mother, but that didn’t stop her from planting an open-mouthed kiss on his lips and rubbing her surgically enhanced chest all over him.

Jesus Christ.
Dax is still a fucking pussy magnet,
Wince thought as he watched Rhonda’s sickening display. He shot a glance at the table of fresh groupies, noting that all three of them were staring at Dax with undisguised lust. Fucking stalkers. Wince hoped that Rhee could still throw a punch. She was Dax’s old lady, now. If she ever made it to the clubhouse, she was going to have to lay down the line with the whores.

At last, Rhonda released Dax from her clutches. “The usual?”

“Sure, darlin’. That would be fine.”

“I have some really fine brandy I’ve been saving for you, sweet cheeks. I just knew you’d come back to visit old Rhonda. I’ll bring you boys the bottle.”

“Thanks, darlin’.” Dax winked and the woman practically melted into her worn, high-heeled boots.

“Jesus, man. You must have a golden cock or something,” Slade commented as Rhonda walked away with an exaggerated sway of her generous hips.

Dax chuckled. “Me and Rhonda go way back.”

The waitress rushed back and set out three snifters that looked far too nice to be in a ramshackle old place like
Lenny’s.
Wince nodded appreciatively as he raised his glass to his nose. “Now that smells like some fine ass brandy.”

Dax nodded. “Thanks, darlin.’ Give us some privacy?”

“Sure thing, honey.”

He raised his glass in a toast. “Congratulations on getting patched in, man.”

Slade nodded, the ghost of a smile appearing on his normally stoic features. The kid was hard to read, thought Wince.

“Thanks.”

Wince reached for the bottle and refilled the snifters with an internal groan. Not even five o’ clock and he was already four drinks in. It was going to be a rough night.

“Now,” Dax fixed his gaze on Slade. “Talk.”

***

The liquor burned its way down Slade’s throat, paving the way for the difficult conversation he was about to have. “Something’s going on.”

“Figured that.” Dax cast a sharp glance at the three skirts talking loudly in the corner. The chatter died down immediately. “What I can’t understand is what could be so shady you couldn’t tell me about it over the phone.”

He looked at Wince, who returned his gaze steadily. “Fill him in. I only know part of this story.”

“Fuck,” Slade sighed. “All right. Couple weeks ago, I noticed Hawk was acting a little…off.”

Dax slammed his glass down on the table hard enough to crack it. A loud girlish gasp came from the table in the corner, followed by a round of nervous giggles. “You better watch what comes out of your mouth next, kid.”

Wince interrupted. “Dax…hear him out.”

“Hawk’s been taking off, saying he’s on club business. I noticed it seems to be a regular meeting—every other Thursday when most of us are at the port handling the shipment.”