Lilith: Lucifer's Legion Motorcycle Club (10 page)

She
grabs my wrists and digs her
fuckin
’ fingernails
in,
puts her face right the fuck in mine and yells.
“Why’d you leave the
fucking
door unlocked, then? You want me to escape!”

I
grip her shoulders so
fuckin
’ hard, she winces,
then
throw her back against the headboard and stand up. I can’t
fuckin
’
take this shit anymore. I’m no
fuckin
’ pussy. I’ve
got the patches all over my
fuckin
’ cut to prove
it.
Some little bitch isn’t gonna ruin the reputation I’ve built in LLMC. Not
when
it’s about to bring the club a huge payday and future business. “That was a
big
fuckin
’ mistake. Won’t happen again. Your ass gets
delivered to the cartel and if I were you, I’d be
fuckin
’
afraid.”

I
grab a few lengths of rope out of my bottom drawer and tie her to the bed,
then
duct tape her mouth shut. I gotta get the fuck out of here for a
while.

Out
in the lot, Butch is
standin
’ with Pretty Randy
and Gunny,
watchin
’ the cops and firemen do their
fuckin
’ routine. Then I see what they’re
lookin
’ at. A body bag. With pieces of Meat inside it.
Meat’s meat. “Fuck,” I say, standing next to Butch.

“Never
seen nobody blown to bits before,” he says, “and I’ve seen a lot of shit in
my
time.”

“Somebody
fucked with the wires,” Gunny says, cracking his knuckles. “Somebody’s gonna
fuckin
’ pay for this.”

Out
by the gate, a TV crew’s reporting the story. “So much for the
fuckin
’ toy drive,” I say.

“So
much for keeping the
fuckin
’ feds off my ass,”
Butch
says. “Alice is
takin
’ the toys to the shelter on
Mission Street.”

Fuckin
’ Mission Street, where Pretty
Randy picked up Lilith. His eyes shift to mine, and he flinches, looks
away.

Lookin
’ at the charred van, I can’t
believe
someone would take the time to blow that piece of shit up. Why not our
bikes?
Did the fucker know we’d use the van to pick up toys today instead of
bitches?

“I
need to blow off for a while,” I say. “Bitch is taken care of in my room.”

“Randy
can take her back down when it’s all cleared out here,” Butch says,
eyein
’ me like he’s
waitin
’
for
an argument.

I
’m
done
fuckin
’ protecting that bitch from Randy or
any
other fucker who wants to go near her.
Hearin
’ her
say she
ain’t
afraid of me—fuck, that set my ass
straight. I don’t give a fuck how tight my chest gets
thinkin
’
about her
bein
’ mine, how much I want to
fuckin
’ kill anybody who touches her. I’m no bitch’s
boyfriend. Never have been. Not
startin
’
now.

My
bike roars through the gates, past the TV reporter. The sun glares off my
sunglasses. It doesn’t take long for the vibration of the engine to numb me,
stop all the fucked up thoughts clogging my head.

New
Mexico’s been one fucked up mess after another ever since I got here. The
cartel business should be the best
fuckin
’ thing
that’s ever happened, but there’s no way to ace their test when they give me
a
week. Then
fuckin
’ Lilith and not
leavin
’
her crazy ass with a bullet in it in the middle of the
fuckin
’
desert. Then my bitch—Christ, I have lost my
fuckin
’
mind or
somethin
’. Need a goddamn vacation. What
the
fuck is wrong with me lately? Maybe Alice is right, and I’m too
fuckin
’ old for this shit. Thirty-six and always on the
road. No place I call my own. No body to give a fuck about—nobody to give a
fuck about me. That was the plan and that
fuckin
’
came true. Why am I
bein
’ such a
fuckin
’
pussy about it now? Because of that little bitch with those
fuckin
’
nipples I want to suck on until I
fuckin
’
die?

Now
is not the time for any of this bullshit.

I
pull off the road onto a dirt trail, park my bike and walk into the woods. I
wanted to get the fuck away from it all, and there’s nowhere like being
buried
in dead leaves and rotting logs, crashing on the ground, popping a few pills
and drifting off into
fuckin
’ nowhere.

It’s
three in the
fuckin
’ morning when I come out of
the
fuckin
’ blackness, my head still hazy and drugged. The
club
is still a
fuckin
’ ghost town, all the brothers
holdin
’ up in their rooms
outta
respect for Meat. I know they
woulda
gotten drunk
off
their
fuckin
’ asses tonight,
sittin
’
around telling stories about him before
blackin
’
out
and stumbling to bed. I’m glad I
fuckin
’ missed
it. I
don’t have enough
fuckin
’ emotion in me to do
grief.

My
room is dark and empty, thank fuck. I didn’t want to come face-to-face with
the
bitch, and have her still tied to my bed.

I
crash down on my back, don’t even take my
fuckin
’
boots off, and pass out. A weird
fuckin
’ dream
keeps
proddin
’ my ass awake. I’m in the van when it blows,
flames
flashing up around me,
burnin
’ my skin, and Lilith
’s
there,
watchin
’ the whole thing. She laughs, and
it’s
so
fuckin
’ real that I jolt awake and open my
eyes—and
fuckin
’ look right into hers.

It
is
fuckin
’ real.

She’s
straddlin
’ me,
lookin
’
down
at me, a whisper of a laugh in her throat.

It
hits me like a
fuckin
’ punch to the face. “You
fuckin
’ did it,” I say. “You
fuckin
’
blew up the van.”

She
slides my own
fuckin
’ gun up to my head, gives me
a
bat shit crazy smile, and says, “Say goodbye to life as you know it, bitch.
You’re mine now.”

Luc’s story continues in…

Nomad

Lucifer’s Legion Motorcycle Club #2

Coming December 1, 2014

Angel

LLMC #3

December 22

Saved

LLMC #4

Jan. 12

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