Reaper
I’d just gotten off the phone with Cam, letting him in on our change in plans when I notice Pimp walking toward his ride on the far side of the lot. Pimp is a long-time patched member of the Kings, who spends his days running Club Chrome, one of the hottest nightclubs in town. Since I’m a bit of a tech geek, I do a lot of the security equipment for the club and its affiliated businesses, and Chrome is one I tend to spend a lot of time at.
“Pimp,” I call, jogging up behind him. “Need a word.”
A man of few words himself, Pimp turns to face me and simply cocks a brow.
“Came across a guy last night that I knew but couldn’t place. Figured you’d be the one to ask. Scrawny guy, about your height, gold tooth right up front.”
Pimp thinks for a moment. “Sounds like Shiv you’re talkin’ ’bout. Guy’s a fuckin’ shady as hell drug dealer. He’d sell bad shit to a preschooler if he could make a buck. Kicked him out of the club once. My boys made it clear he best not return. Haven’t seen him since.”
Shiv. Hearing that name reminds me where I’d seen him before. The club had run him out of several establishments for selling drugs to the patrons. I’d only met him once, and it hadn’t been pleasant. He’d been in a club run strip club, trying to sell his shit cocaine to a few of the ladies. One of them had gotten scared and ratted him out to the bouncer who called us to put the fear of God in him.
He was scrawnier now, and had most definitely been sampling his own wares; his unfocused eyes and greying skin gave that away. So how the hell did Anna know him?
The look on her face when I’d shown up had told me something was up. The way I see it, she’s either fucking using or selling. It doesn’t matter much which one it is. Neither is a part of her changing, like she insists she’s doing. Stupid bitch.
I don’t really know what to do with this new information. Technically, Anna is Ryker’s problem, but that poor bastard has enough on his plate, and Charlotte’s in no condition to deal with her fucked up sister any more than she has to. I know that being pregnant doesn’t mean she’s an invalid by any means, but it does mean that stress should be kept to a minimum. Anna isn’t helping with that, doing drugs right in her fucking house. At least, that’s what I’m willing to bet she’s doing.
I bid goodbye to Pimp and make my way to my own bike, ready to set off and see if I can find my psychotic ex. Cam had given me an address he’d been going to check out before I switched his focus, so I figure that’s as good a place to start as any.
As I get closer to the address, I’m surprised to see the city fall away and the sprawling properties I pass boasting bigger, and more extravagant homes. The address leads me to a gated property, complete with a buzzer. The house is hidden behind lush trees and a hill bigger than most ski hills I’d seen. This must be the home of Laurie’s ex-fiancé, Michael Lancaster. Maybe the two of us could start a damn club.
I press the buzzer and wait, my eyes taking it all in, wondering what Laurie could possibly have done to fuck herself out of all this. It takes about three minutes before someone finally answers.
“Hello?” The disembodied voice of a woman sounds wary, and very French. I glance up to the camera mounted on the fence and figure they don’t get many bikers gracing their doorsteps in this neighbourhood.
“I’m looking for Laurie Welland.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but Laurie no longer lives here.”
I know this, of course, but it’s hard to interrogate a speaker, so I had to start somewhere. “Do you know where I can find her?” I ask as politely as I can.
“I don’t. She’s been gone for over a month now.”
“Is it possible to speak to Michael?”
“He’s not here right now either,” she says, her voice still holding an edge of wariness. “He’s away on business and won’t be back until later in the week.”
A dead end—for now. I thank the woman and leave. I feel like a hamster in a damn wheel, running and running, and getting absolutely nowhere. It’s both infuriating and suffocating.
Tracking down Laurie is proving to be harder than I’d expected. I have to wait on Cam to do anymore as he sees about the police’s interest in the club. The only other problem is Anna, and there’s definitely something I can do about that. That bitch is about to get one last reminder of what it means to fuck with my family.
Anna
It’s early in my shift when Shiv shows up. The instant my eyes fell on him, every molecule of oxygen was sucked from my lungs and I feared I’d never get it back. He was here for me, I knew it. I tried my best to ignore him, and for the first couple hours, it was easy. I served customer after customer, making cocktails and popping caps off beers, and through it all, Shiv stayed over by the pool tables, talking to a group of guys that were in here almost every night.
Every time I risked a glance in his direction, he was staring directly at me. The first time, he’d smiled at me, but when I didn’t return it, his smile was replaced with a wicked twist to his lips, and his eyes narrowed to slits.
After finally reaching a lull in the busy crowd, I motion to Jake, letting him know I’m heading to the ladies’ room. He simply nods and continues his stone-faced scanning of the patrons, always on the lookout for trouble.
The back hall of the Pig’s Ear is short, and has only has four doors. One leads to a giant cold room, one to the manager’s office, one to the back alley, and the last one leads to the break room. The break room is large, and boasts a table and chairs, a tattered couch, and mismatched slouchy chair, along with a kitchenette that’s mostly ignored. In the far corner, the bathroom door stands ajar and I make a beeline right for it.
I make quick use of the facilities, cursing my pea-sized bladder. Washing my hands, I check myself over in the mirror. Dark circles rim my eyes, but my cheeks have filled out a little more, and I’m having a great hair day. All in all, I look pretty damn good.
I exit the bathroom and am just filling a glass with water at the kitchenette when I hear the door from the hallway open behind me. I turn to glance over my shoulder and freeze. Shiv is standing inside the break room, his back turned as he closes the door behind him, effectively closing us in together.
When he turns to face me, he tilts his head to the side and smirks. “Anna Banana, why do I get the feeling you’re trying to avoid me?”
Jesus Christ. This guy is fucking relentless. “Shiv, you can’t be in here. It’s for employees only.”
With his mouth turned down in a disappointed frown, he shakes his head and takes a few steps closer. “Well, I guess that answers my question, doesn’t it? What I want to know is, why? I thought we were friends.”
With what little strength I’d gained at my NA meeting that afternoon, I square my shoulders and look him straight in the eye, wondering how long it will take Jake to notice I haven’t come back from the back room yet. “Look, I’m clean now, okay? I haven’t used in months, and I don’t need you waving it in my face, trying to suck me back in.”
The words come out in a rush, but time seems to stand still as I watch his face flash from his initial disappointment to annoyance, frustration, then to anger. All these emotions in the span of five extremely long seconds. The anger melts to cockiness, and he takes another step, bringing him within two feet of me, his head lowered to meet my eyes directly.
“Bullshit, Anna. You’re a lifer, baby. You might think you’re getting away from it all, but you and I both know you were gonna take that pill from me last night.”
I shake my head adamantly, my lips pursed together as his body pushes closer. One more step and he’ll be touching me. God, I don’t want him to touch me.
“Stop,” I demand, proud that my voice doesn’t waver. My heart feels like it’s about to gallop its way right out of my ribcage. Holding my hand up, it’s less than an inch from touching his chest as he stands over me. “No more, Shiv. Just go, before Jake finds you back here.”
“Fuck Jake,” he snarls, reaching out lightning fast and driving his fingers into the hair at the back of my neck. “Fuck you too, bitch. You know I’m right.” He yanks back viciously on my head and my yelp is cut short as my throat becomes exposed, feeling like it’s about to snap. My chest heaves as I struggle and choke down what little air I can manage with my neck at this angle, but I don’t tear my eyes away from him. “Lucky for you,” he continues, his lips lowering to graze along my throat. “I still have some with me.”
I hear the crinkle of a packet, and as he lifts his hand, the little white pill is back in my sight, but this time, I don’t want it. This time, I just need to find a way out of this. “Take it,” he says, his voice a guttural demand. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. Please, no. “Take it!” he screams. His hot, rancid breath washes over me and sends me straight into survival mode.
From experience, I know that the best thing to do when a man gets in this kind of mood is to just go with it. Don’t argue, don’t make a fuss. Eventually, he either ends up bored or satisfied, and decides to leave you alone.
His shoulders heaving, he trails the packet across my cheek, the edges biting at my skin as it goes lower and lower, until it, along with his hand, disappears inside my exposed cleavage. He crams it inside my bra, his fingers stopping to pinch at my nipple. I squeeze my eyes shut as he rolls it tightly between his finger and thumb, his hips pressing against mine.
Finally, he removes his hand, but he pulls back a little on my hair. His face lowers to mine and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes my lower lip between his teeth and clamps down on it, hard. The coppery taste of blood explodes on my tongue, the pain pulling the breath right out of me. He sucks it in deep and flicks it with his tongue before letting go. He steps back with a smile, his hand still in my hair.
“There’s more where that came from, baby.”
He releases me, and I use the wall to hold myself up as he licks his lips and turns on his heel, disappearing out the door.