The Riot (Hell's Disciples MC Book 5) (6 page)

“You sure ‘bout her doin’ this, brother?” Buck asks me. Never been surer. He’s only asking because he gives a fuck about El, but I swear to fuck, if one more person questions me, I’m gonna lose it. I know
my girl.

“Yeah,” I answer. I’m ready to watch the show. “Let her do her thing.” She’s got this shit.

This wouldn’t be happening if she were any other woman. The ramifications of hurting another human being rattles people to their core and fucks with their heads. Intentionally causing someone harm isn’t easy, especially when they’re begging for their life, but Ellison is tough, tougher than most men. I have no fucking doubt she’ll sleep easy and peacefully tonight.

We come from bad shit, her and I. A screwed-up mom, school bullies, a drunk dad, and a rough neighborhood bred a tough as nails girl. She has a backbone made of steel and a heart made for only me. She knows I would never lead her astray. There isn’t a damn thing on this planet I wouldn’t do for her, and she knows it.

I watch her slip off her shoes and bounce on the balls of her feet. She’s ready, and I’m so goddamn proud of her.

She walks up to the man, the bat swinging loosely by her side. There’s a methodic purposeful swing to her step, and I know she’s looking forward to this. The man whips his head back and forth, looking for fuck knows what. There’s nowhere to run. “F-
fuck
. You’re okay. I—I didn’t hurt ya,” he growls, nodding at her bruises.

“You didn’t? You choked me because I wouldn’t hit my knees for you,” she says, cocking her head. “You slapped me because I defended myself. Do you have a daughter?” The dude doesn’t answer. He only sneers at her, blood trickling from his nose. He’s angry, but there’s fear in his eyes. One hurt woman is much more dangerous than five pissed off men. Never underestimate a wounded woman, especially when you’re the one who made her that way.

“Answer her!” I shout as I pull out my gun. Why must the gun get them talking? Always the damn gun.

“You can’t do this!” he yells back, jerking his arms. “They’ll get you. You’ll get what you deserve.”

Exchanging a look with Buck, I know he’s caught that little tidbit of information too.
They,
as in the Raiders and Ryders, but I don’t share that with El. I’ll let her handle what she needs to handle, then we’ll
deal with what’s left over of him.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want. In this town, we are the motherfuckin’ law. Now answer her!” I aim right between his beady bloodshot eyes.

“Y-
yes.
”

Ellison shakes her head sadly. “Would you like one of my guys to do this,” she says, touching her cheek, “to your daughter? Want the big guy here to tear into her? Leave her bleeding and scared?” El doesn’t wait for an answer. Bringing the bat up, she swings wide, slamming it right into the dude’s side.

“Ahhhh,” he cries as he tries to bend over. He’s unsuccessful with Buck and Tyler holding his arms. “
S-Stop
,” he coughs and sputters.

“Fuck you,” El grumbles, clearly not concerned about his pain. One more swift swing to the gut and the guy’s already giving in. Pussy. 

“You sure you don’t need shoes, babe?” I ask as she dances around in the gravel.

“No.” She’s holding the bat, ready to take another swing. I guess she’s not worried about her feet, so I let her do her thing.

That’s my girl.

Ellison

One punch to the face from Rocky and the man is out cold. He slumps, wilting to the gravel at Rocky’s feet. In a bloody pile of wasted flesh, he groans before there’s silence, and a triumphant smile lights up Rocky’s face.

“That was fun.” Of course Rock ended it. He just can’t help himself when violence is involved. He had to have a taste.

Turning to me, Rock smiles over his shoulder. “That’s how this shit is done,” he declares. He got tired of waiting on me.

Impatient asshole.

“Did you want me to punch him?” I ask. Watching him shake out his hand, he rubs at it with his left hand and frowns at me.

“Fuck no.”

“Then why are you gloating?” Cocky bastard. “Fucking showboater,” I mutter under my breath. I wasn’t going to hit the man with my own damn hand. I’d rather not break any bones.

“Did it because it turns you on,” he jests, a devilish twinkle in his deranged green eyes.

“Sure, buddy.” Whatever. Rock’s sickness knows no bounds.

Wiping his bloody knuckles on his jeans, Rock kicks the guy, eliciting a muffled moan from the sad heap on the ground. “Hmmm,” Rock hums, inspecting his handiwork. “Want me to kill him for ya, babe?”

“I think we’re good.” There are no dead bodies under my belt, and I’d like to keep it that way.

“You sure? You know I’d fuckin’ kill him for ya.”

That’s so sweet. “I think I’m gonna have to take a pass, but thanks.”

Rock makes me crazy, and it’s not the good crazy either. It’s the desperate, wild, uncontrollable kind of crazy. Homicidal. Suicidal. Manic.

But I love him.

Handing him back the bat, he smiles at me, showing his deceivingly sweet dimples and all. He’s so handsome, and he’s so completely insane.

“You feel better?” Rock asks, tossing an arm over my shoulder, tugging me into his side. I fit perfectly, like a missing piece.

Do I feel better? I take a quick inventory. I have a bit of a headache, my cheek stings, and my throat is achy, but I feel good after I got my hits in.

Tomorrow he might be walking funny and pissing blood, but he’s still breathing. He’s lucky that Rock was ready to be done and get me home, or the guy might be six feet under in Buck’s yard by now.

“I’m good.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

“Where we going?”

“On the back of my bike is where you’re goin’.”

***

Sitting outside under the old rusted tin carport down at the Y, I watch the snow fall. It started about thirty minutes ago.

Sometimes, I wonder if this place is as special to the guys as it is to me. No right-minded, sane person would find this place appealing, but I’ve never claimed to be either. An old broken-down motel and bar in the middle of nowhere is anything but extravagant. Outside eyes see broken windows, cracked foundation, chipped paint, and years of abuse. Me? I see memories. I see a safe place. I see a surrogate family, a home away from home.

Propping my legs up on the stump in front of me, I heat my feet by the big metal barrel. The fire cracks and pops, sending burning embers into the pristine white snow.

Lifting my cup to my lips, I let the Sprite and Vodka slide over my tongue, setting my taste buds on fire. Sighing, I sink further into my seat, content to just sit and drink while watching the flames flicker against the night sky.

The back door meets the siding with a smack, interrupting my peace.

“How you doin’ girl?” Tyler asks, sliding into the old chipped and sun-faded Adirondack chair next me.

“I’m surviving. You good?” I ask, rolling my head to the side to look at him. Tyler is a handsome guy, with light hair and light eyes. Funnier than he is sensible, Tyler is always a good time.

“Meh,” he shrugs. I should ask. Friends ask friends to air their issues, but I learned a long time ago not to ask questions around here. If someone wants you to know, they’ll share.

A comfortable quiet settles between us for a few minutes, both of us drinking our drinks and staring into the fire. Tyler and I have always had a good thing. We’re cool.

“How do ya do it?”

“Do what?” That question fields a wide range of possible answers. “You’re gonna have to narrow it down for me.”

“Keep shit so casual with Rock?” Ah.

“It’s just the way it is.”

I don’t even know what we are. We’re so much more than we’re not, and that makes absolutely no fucking sense to anyone but us.

I broke down years ago and let Rock have it. I told him I wanted more, but he wasn’t ready then. I have no illusions that he would be now. At the time he was young, dumb, and a serious panty chaser. He wasn’t interested. I didn’t get it then, but I get it now.

Now here we are, years later, and the roles are reversed. I’m not ready. I’m too lost, too unsure, and too fucking selfish. I’m also scared.

“You know that stupid fucker thinks you hang the moon.” No, yet somehow, I do know.

“Why are you getting so deep on me?”

“No reason. Just wonderin’ how you do it. Most chicks can’t do that shit.”

“I’m not most chicks.”

“That’s true.”

I don’t have any expectations. “The way Rock and I are isn’t for everyone.”

“It’s cool as fuck. Most guy’s dream situation.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It ain’t for me though. Couldn’t share ya.”

“It is what it is.”

“You two are stubborn as fuck.”

“Uh, thanks.” I think.

I don’t love that things are this way between us. I
want
more, but I’m too scared to make that leap. Stuck in some comfortable rut, I know it won’t always be this way. Someday, sooner than I’m comfortable with, something will change. Rock will meet someone, or get sick of dealing with me. It’s only a matter of time.

“But I love him, even if he is stubborn.”

“I have no fuckin’ clue why.” Tyler laughs.

***

My cup is empty, and a few of the guys have filled the seats next me to say hi, but now it’s me and the fire. I’m ready to head home.

Rock trudges across the lot in my direction, his boots beating through the snow covered gravel. He pulls me from my chair and takes my seat, setting me back on his lap.

“The fuck ya doin’ out here, baby doll?” he asks, his voice quiet against my shoulder.

“Relaxing.”

“It’s late as fuck, babe. You ‘bout ready?” Rock doesn’t ask me where I’m staying tonight, which is going to be home, alone.

“Yeah.”

“You work tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I’ll be there after, yeah?”

“Cool.”

Fist Persuasion

Rock

Cold hard concrete at my back, I recline against the steps, letting my elbows rest against the top stoop. Dropping my head back, I take a much needed break.

I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be with El, picking her up from work, but work shit comes first.

“You gonna be okay, man?” Tyler asks, sitting down next to me.

“Yeah.” My hands fuckin’ hurt, and could use a good scrub, but I’ll live.

Cracking my knuckles, the skin on my hands tighten, the blood already dried on my skin. Fuck, I need a sink. Pulling out my knife, I get to cleaning the dried blood from under my nails, since I’m not getting access to water any time soon.

“He crack yet?” I ask T, done with this shit. I went straight Jack the Ripper on the guy, but he’s still hanging on for dear life.

“Fuck no.” The fucker’s staying tight-lipped, which only makes my blood pressure jump. After the beat down he received in the parking lot, you’d think he wasn’t looking for a violent repeat tonight. No, instead I’m here wasting my time. The fucker is keeping me away from my girl, and that doesn’t make me happy.

I try to calm the fuck down. Focusing on something other than my anger, I close my eyes and take a few long, deep breaths, letting my heart rate come back down to earth. I can hear the heavy snow falling from the trees, onto the tin roof above, and the wind howling against the walls. Deep in winter, the weather is unpredictable. The sun can be shining one minute, then six inches of rain and snow will fall within seconds the next. Today it chose to snow.

“Buck gettin’ anywhere?”

“Does worked up count?” Tyler laughs.

That’s where Buck and I differ. He’s good at keeping calm for the most part, thinking shit through and showing little emotion. It takes a lot to rile up the asshole, unless it’s Lennon doing the riling. Me? Once I get there, there’s no going back, and I get there easily. My emotions take over, and I lose my goddamn mind. I was there five minutes ago. Probably why I’m not Sargent at Arms. I’ve got the muscle, but I’ve got zero fucking control.

“Yo! Rock. Need ya in here,” Buck hollers. That’s another difference between Buck and me; I finish the job.

Pushing off of the concrete steps, I get up and walk off towards the old shed. Time to clean up another mess.

***

“My ass hurts.”

Leaning up against my bike, I swivel to look at the fuckin’ idiot. The shit this motherfucker says never ceases to irritate me. Poncho’s still straddling his bike, looking at me like I can give him a hand with his problem.

“Thanks for sharin’, man.” Not that I give a flying fuck about his ass. “But I don’t give a shit.”

“Been sittin’ for fuckin’ hours.”

We beat some information out of the Raiders hang around. We strung him up and hurt him real bad. It took some time, but we finally broke his ass, and he started spilling his guts like a goddamn piñata. The information we got from him has brought us here.              

Standing outside in the snow, on the side of an old dirt road, I stare through the trees at an old barn. I’m standing under a few big Cedar trees, rubbing the hell out of my hands. Frostbite’s kicking in. The sun is starting to fall, making the shaded areas even colder. The 300 Win Mag at my back is bulky and awkward, and doesn’t allow me a jacket, which fucking sucks, but needing the heavy artillery, I have no choice but to deal.

“Nothin’,” Tyler says, walking back through the small clearing towards me. Shaking his head, he looks how I feel, so goddamn frustrated. I’m so tired of this shit. A little over a year ago, our brother Lou was brought down in cold blood. We laid low, following orders from Dan, even after they shot up the motel. The Raiders went quiet after that, laying low, causing us to work harder to find their fucking asses.

When I found Mike’s shit at Ellison’s apartment, we started watching her place, but she didn’t know that shit. I played it off, trying to find out anything I could about him without tipping her off, and I thought I was doing a good job of it. Maybe she told him I was asking, or caught on as to why, and gave him a heads-up to stay away. I don’t know and I didn’t ask, but I swear that fucker knew something, seeing’s to how we never found him coming or going from her place.

The two guys we shot on the roof a few weeks ago were a little help…well, one was. Buck’s man died before we got him back to the club. The Ryder I shot in the leg could only tell us that the Ryders and Raiders were joining forces to build themselves in numbers, and using their recent hiatus to stockpile their firepower to use against us.

“I don’t get this shit. That motherfucker said they’d be here,” Tyler growls, kicking at a rock before settling against his bike.

“Fuuuuuck.”

“You okay there, man?” Tyler chuckles.

“I’m good. Just plottin’,” I breathe.

“Good. Stay angry, motherfucker.” Always. Complacency will get ya killed.

Two hours later, the rumble of engines slice through the silence. Tyler turns and gives me the look.

“How many you think?” he asks.

“Two, maybe three.” Not that it really makes a difference. We’ve got Ben and Dan down on the other side, waiting.

“Get the bikes behind the tree,” I inform Poncho, pointing over the thick clump of trees twenty feet off the road. Poncho nods and runs his bike over. I’m right behind him.

“Get scarce, assholes,” I yell out to the others while running up the side of the hill.

Getting behind a dirt mound, I squat and pull the Win over my shoulder. For the second time in a few short weeks, I find myself picking these dumb fucks off like fleas. I’d rather use my fists, but I make do with the situation.

My aim is always on point, but Buck’s the guy for this job. Too bad he can’t stay away from Lennon for five goddamn minutes to do what needs to be done.

Giving the Win a once over, I rest it against the rock in front of me and get a good look through the scope. Lining it up with the road, I take a breath.

My fucking phone rings

Fuck
.

Jerking it out of my pocket, I see Ellison’s name scroll across the screen. I ignore the call. Turning the ringer off, I toss it onto the ground at my feet, but I catch her name pop back up.

Jesus
.

Ellison never calls back, and I mean never. Hell, she rarely ever calls me. Something in the pit of my stomach has me reaching for the phone and answering it real damn quick.

“Babe, not a good time…”

The rumble of engines gets even closer in the background.

“Rock?” she whispers. Her voice, quiet and scared, sends the hairs on the back of my neck on end. Something isn’t right.

“What? What’s wrong?” Down at the bottom of the hill, in the mess of trees, I catch Tyler giving me the go ahead.

Worst goddamn timing ever.

“There are people in my apartment,” she breathes into the phone. My stomach plummets straight to my fucking ass.

I have two choices; shoot blindly and hope to fuck I hit someone important, or stay, get the job done, and pray like hell that nothing happens to her in the time it takes me make some head rolls.

“Hang on, baby. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I want you to hide somewhere until I get there.” Ending the call, I drop it to my feet.

Sighting the gun, I watch as three Raiders plow down the snow covered gravel. My finger flexes and my heart slows. Then, I take a deep breath and shoot.

Focused on Ellison, I get my part done, and I’m up and off the hill in a heartbeat.

“Someone’s in Ellison’s place,” I shout over my shoulder halfway to my bike. Getting my bike from the bushes, I fire it up. My brothers will handle business.

“Go,” Tyler hollers at my back, and I’m gone.

Ellison

I’m not sure if the shake in my hands is from the cold or the adrenaline. My knees knock together and my teeth chatter as I hunker down. Crouching, my ass resting on my heels, I lean into the old siding of my building, trying desperately to blend in. Arms tucked against my sides, I hold my breath and pray.

Over the roof of the adjacent building, I catch the last little bit of sun disappearing behind the shingles. The sun goes down, and so does any bit of warmth I had.              

Shit
.

I can hear the men on the other side of my window, inside of my
warm
apartment, going through my things. Whoever they are, they’re in my room—my personal space. My stomach tightens at the idea of someone’s grubby, unfamiliar hands pawing at my shit.

Clutching my phone like a lifeline, I pray like hell that Rock gets here before that window opens. I’d hate to jump, but I will if I have to.

I had no one else to call, so I called Rock, knowing he’d answer.

I’d only been home for three damn minutes, enough time to set my purse down and peel off my coat when I heard boots coming up the steps and into the hall. Without a thought, I unlocked the door and looked out, assuming it was Rock. Unfamiliar voices alerted me to my colossal mistake.

I managed to grab my phone from my purse, and made it to my bedroom before I heard the front door open, followed by footsteps walking into my living room. I made it out the window and onto the concrete ledge outside.

Shivering from the wind and snow, I listen to them talk, not able to make out anything they’re saying. The voices finally stop, and so does my heart. Fear keeps me from peeking through the window, even when curiosity nags at me. Did they leave? Steal all of my crappy stuff?              

Wrapping my arms around myself, I shiver violently, trying to keep warm, but it’s no use. I can either sit out here and freeze to death, or go in and take my chances against a bunch of ben ransacking my place.

Checking my phone for the hundredth time, I sigh. Jesus, I can see my breath.

I stay where I am for what feels like hours before I hear another voice, louder and angrier, but familiar. I sag in relief.

Rock.

“Ellison?” I’ve never been so happy to hear Rock yell in all my life. Standing as best as I can, I look down and hug the wall. Stupid idea. My feet are numb and freezing, and I’m shivering uncontrollably.

“O-
out
here.” My voice wobbles through my frozen lips.

The window bursts open, bouncing off the siding behind it. Rock’s mean mug peers through, looking right and left. His angry face pales when he notices that I’m on a ledge the width of my ass.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, babe.” Sticking a long arm out the window, he reaches for me. I do the same thing, desperate to be back inside. Taking his hand, I hang on for dear life. It might be selfish, but if I fall, I’m taking him with me.

His fingers wrap tightly around my wrist and jerks me towards the window, my feet skidding along the iced ledge.

“Duck your head,” Rock says, tugging me through the window as he pulls me through. I stumble, but I make it back inside without falling. He drags me in and wrap his arms around me.

“Your lips are blue.” His hands rub up and down my back, trying to warm me.

“It’s c-c-cold out there,” I chatter into his chest. He’s so warm.

“No shit, babe. It’s January.”

“But if I w-w-were in Hawaii, it’d be at least s-s-seventy degrees,” I mumble into his leather.

“Hawaii, huh?” Laughing, I can feel the vibrations deep in his chest against my face.

“Sunshine.”

“But you’re not in Hawaii. You’re here, and you should be in a fuckin’ coat.”               “Why hadn’t I thought of that?”

“Shut up.” Rock keeps me close, arms wrapped tightly around me. If blue lips and frostbit toes gets me a face full of Rock, I can deal with no Hawaii sunshine and all his asshole comments.

“You okay?” he asks. 

“I think so.”

“Missin’ any pieces?”

“Nothing important.”

He grabs the blanket from my bed and throws it over my shoulders, and continues to hold me close, trying to keep me warm. Once I finally stop shivering, he lets me go and holds me at arm’s length, looking me up and down.

“You sure
you’re okay?”

“Are you?” He looks extremely pissed off. His eyes are hard and his lips are grim. I get nothing but a discouraging grunt.

“Been better.”

“Want to share.”

Snorting, Rock gives his head one good shake. “Nah.

“Were they in here when you got here?” I ask as I peek around his body. My drawers are pulled out and my clothes are everywhere. My closet door is open and a few keepsake boxes are strewn across the floor.

“You see any dead bodies?” he counters.

“Well, no.”

“Then I didn’t kill anyone.”

My things have been touched and it bothers me. My shit is shit, but it’s
my
shit. It pisses me off knowing unfamiliar hands touched my stuff. “Check your shit, babe. See if anything’s missin’.”

I do a quick walk through, and nothing seems to be missing, but everything seems to have been touched. My couch cushions are on the floor. God only knows what they were looking for there, but looking around, I see they turned the whole place upside down.