Axl (Sons of Chaos MC #1) (7 page)

“Mmom?” I said into the hallway. “That you?”

There was no response. Normally I would’ve shrugged it off, but something felt off.

I put down the toothbrush and spit out the foam bubbles in my mouth before walking back across the hallway and peeking into my bedroom.

Nothing.

I entered my bedroom, and everything was as I’d left it. There was a cool draft coming in from the window, though, which was cracked. That was strange—I didn’t make a habit of keeping my window open and I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d opened it. There hadn’t been a draft when I’d been sitting there working on my laptop... had there? I was so tired I couldn’t be sure. But nothing else looked out of place. I probably just needed some sleep. I pushed the window closed tightly until the weather stripping sealed out the wind, and latched it again.

I went back to the bathroom, finished brushing, and then returned to my bedroom. I shut the door with a click and turned the lights off. My eyes relaxed, adjusting to the dark. Only a faint moon glow came in through the window.

For the first time in nearly three days, I was finally alone—actually alone, with no one watching me or bothering me. It was an incredible relief.

I padded along the carpet, and flopped down onto my bed, pulling the covers over me. The soft pillows cradled my head and it felt so good to finally be in my own bed again. If only I didn’t have to wake up to an alarm clock the next morning. I felt like I could sleep for days.

In spite of myself, my mind began to wander back to the events of the weekend as I drifted off to sleep. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t flush the thought of Axl out of my head. Couldn’t forget his incredibly handsome face, his smell, his touch, his taste. I replayed the memory of our roadside encounter in my head, and felt wet between my legs. My hand began to find its way down my stomach, and my fingers slipped under the elastic waistband of my panties. I closed my eyes.

And then a gloved hand covered my mouth. I opened my eyes and screamed instinctively, but my scream was completely stifled as if someone had hit my mute button. An intruder wearing a black coat and ski mask stood over me, his hand pressing hard against my mouth. A second, shorter masked figure stood by my closet.

Fuck—the closet! I instantly knew what had happened—they’d come in through the window and were waiting in my closet the entire time I was brushing my teeth. A sick feeling flooded my stomach. I’d always felt safe in my own house, but now it was clear that feeling was only an illusion.

I wished Axl were here.

I wiggled, struggling to free my mouth from under the man’s glove, but he only pressed harder. And then, with his other hand, he reached behind his back and pulled out a gun.

I paced back and forth in my room, Ryker’s orders ringing in my ears. Orders to let Holly go, to let the Reapers exact their vengeance on her.

And for what? Yeah, she’d seen shit, but she wasn’t a part of it. That was what separated the Sons from pieces of shit like the Reapers. A little fucking common decency and a code of ethics.

“Goddammit!” I shouted, and drove my fist into the wall. My knuckles seared in pain, and a hairline crack flicked through the wooden wall.

I couldn’t get her face out of my head. Her smile, her smell, the way she tucked her hair over her ears. Those big, brown, honest eyes.

Fuck it. I was going to get that girl, even if it meant going against my own club. Consequences be damned. Ryker could be made to understand.

Maybe.

I grabbed my cut from the back of my chair and threw it on. Then I grabbed my gunbelt, lashed it around my waist, and pulled out my desk drawer. My black polymer Glock lay in the drawer, atop a stack of cash and magazines. I grabbed the Glock and a loaded mag and shoved it inside. I chambered a round and jammed the Glock into the holster on my belt.

I exited the room and crashed down the stairs into the main clubhouse. It was eerily quiet tonight. Most guys had gone home to their families for a few days, laying low and preparing for shit with the Reapers. There was only the bartender and two guys drinking—my buddy Dash and a new prospect.

Dash looked up as I came down the stairs.

He knew.

“VP, buddy,” he said, bouncing up from his barstool. The prospect and bartender watched quietly. “Lemme talk to you real quick.”

“No time,” I said flatly, heading for the main exit. But Dash sped up to intercept me and pulled me aside before I reached the door.

“Buddy,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, his expression a cross between concern and suspicion, “Don’t do this, man. You’re thinking with your dick. This ain’t you.”

My posture stiffened and the veins in my neck pulsed. “This ain’t some whore who had it coming. She’s an innocent. Can’t let the Reapers do this to her.”

Dash exhaled slowly, tension boiling beneath the surface. “Then you ain’t my VP right now, brother.”

“And if we’re gonna toss an innocent girl to the Reapers, then this ain’t my club,” I said. “Now get the fuck outta my way.”

Dash looked at me silently, the moment seeming to stretch infinitely in time. Finally, he looked down and stepped aside. I left the clubhouse, hopped on my bike, and raged through the city streets.

As I ran stop signs and cut corners, my bike blazing over the city blocks and shattering the quiet Saturday night of Coppertail, my heart pounded in my chest. If they’d gotten to her first...

When I finally pulled onto her street, I saw an unmarked van parked on the street opposite to her house. A van like that didn’t belong in Coppertail.

“Fuck!” I yelled, pounding my fist against the handlebars. I locked the bike’s front and back brakes with my right hand and foot, the bike’s rear wheel squealing and fishtailing as I skidded to a stop, nearly going off the road into a ditch.

I swung the kickstand out hard, and leapt off my bike. I ran toward the house, adrenaline pumping through my veins. Finally, for the first time in days, the perpetual hangover feeling in my head lifted completely. I felt fucking alive and ready for action. This was Axl fucking Archer in his natural state.

I bounded up the steps to the front door of the house and tried the handle. Locked. The front door was undisturbed. If they’d already busted in, they’d done it a different way.

I raced back down the stairs and around the side of the house—and that’s when I heard the ruckus coming from an upstairs bedroom.

Shit. They were inside and they’d gotten to her first.

My brain and body finally firing on all cylinders, I urgently scanned the side of the house and willed a solution to come to me. And it did, like I knew it would. I thrived under pressure.

The tree. I scrambled up the branches, hoisting my weight up from limb to limb until I came face-to-face with the upstairs window. The scene I saw inside fucking enraged me, setting every fiber of my being on fire. Holly was sitting on the edge of her bed, her hands bound behind her back, a cloth gag stuffed in her mouth. Two men stood over her, one of them typing into the glowing screen of a cell phone.

I’d been in this lifestyle long enough to know that her being bound and gagged was a good thing. If these two fucks aimed to hurt her, they would’ve done it already. They wanted her alive, and that gave me the opening I needed.

I dropped down from the tree, not taking the time to descend the way I’d come up. My ankles and knees seared in pain as they absorbed the impact of my fall, but I gritted my teeth and ignored the pain. I sprinted back across the street where I’d parked my bike. I grabbed the handlebars and kicked out with my foot to retract the kickstand. Then, I shoved my bike backwards, letting it fall out of sight into the ditch behind the road. Normally I’d go fucking livid at the thought of my bike dropping, but with Holly’s life on the line, I didn’t need to think twice. My bike tipped over with a crash, out of sight.

I darted over to the van, crouching down on the side facing away from Holly’s house. I reached into my boot and pulled my knife out of its sheath—I couldn’t fire my damn Glock on a quiet night in a neighborhood full of families.

I gripped my knife hard, and I waited. Tonight was lights out for those Reaper fucks.

My heart pounded as I sat on the edge of my bed with my hands tied and my mouth gagged. I’d fought them as hard as I could. I’d gotten out from under the tall one’s grip, and bitten his hand until I felt the tendons crunch between my teeth. I’d turned my head afterward, preparing for a retaliatory blow to my head, but it hadn’t come.

The reply, which came through gritted teeth, was worse: “Fucking try that again, and we go find everyone else in this house.”

I was scared to death, but no matter what happened to me, I wasn’t going to let my parents get involved in this. No matter how angry they made me sometimes, they didn’t deserve this. So I shut my mouth and let them tie me up.

After I was bound, the one whose hand I bit pulled out his phone, his palm wrapped in a white t-shirt from my dresser. He tapped on it for a few seconds and then waited. Neither man spoke until the phone buzzed in reply a minute later. He read the message on the phone and then said, “Anyone else awake in this house?”

I shook my head no.

“I hope for their sake you’re tellin’ the truth. We’re going downstairs. Walk.”

I had no choice but to lead the men through my house, past my parents’ closed bedroom door, and down the stairs. As we walked, I held my breath, tiptoeing as gently as possible.

The tall one with the bitten hand led the way, while the shorter, fatter one followed behind me, his hand on the rope lashed around my wrists. When we got to the front door, the tall one opened it, and led me out of my house into the cold, dark night.

I was terrified of what might happen to me, but at the same time I was beyond relieved that we’d gotten out of the house without my parents waking up. I couldn’t bear to think what could’ve happened if they’d woken up.

The men rushed me across the street toward a black van with painted-over windows, which was parallel parked on the side of the street opposite my house. They led me around to the rear of the van, and the tall one opened the door.

That’s when Axl flew around the side of the van. His body sprung into action like an angry animal, a murderous expression on his face. In his hand I saw the streetlight reflecting off a shining blade. The tall one never saw it coming when Axl raised his arm above his head and brought the blade plunging down into the side of the man’s neck.

I screamed under my gag, struggling to pull away from the short man behind me. I twisted my body, wrenching my bound hands out of his grip. As I did so, I met Axl’s eyes as he yanked the knife out of the tall man’s neck. Blood spurted out like a fountain, splashing over Axl’s chest and face.

As my hands came free from the man’s grip, I threw my body toward the ditch on the side of the road. As a young girl, I used to sit in the ditch and have picnics with my grandma. But this time I crashed headfirst into a huge block of metal as I fell, disorienting me. I realized it was a motorcycle as I lay dazed, coughing. I could see Axl holding the knife and the short man fumbling in his jacket for his gun.

The man never had a chance—Axl was too fast. His arm flew backwards like a piston, and then drilled forward, the knife plunging through the short man’s jacket and straight into his chest. He let out an agonizing scream that melted into a bloody gurgle as the knife carved up his lungs inside his chest. Still laying on my back in the ditch, I looked on, horrified. The short man collapsed to the ground as his gurgling scream died out and his life left his body.

Axl left his knife in the man’s chest as he raced over to where I lay in the ditch.

“Holly!” he said, his voice dark and husky in the night. “You hurt?”

I shook my head no. Axl reached down and pulled the gag out of my mouth.

“Axl, what the fuck,” I said. I was now officially beyond freaked-the-fuck out. This was way more than I bargained for.

“Holly,” he said, turning me on my side to untie the rope around my hands, “I’m fuckin’ sorry. Those Reapers—they’re filthy fucking animals.”

As I lay in the ditch, everything felt so intense, so visceral. I was wide awake, and all my senses were working in overdrive. Finally Axl succeeded in freeing my hands. I reached up and he grabbed my hands with his, pulling me to my feet. He rubbed the skin of my wrists, which were raw and red.

“Holly,” he said, looking into my eyes, “We’ve gotta get the hell out of here.” He wrapped his hands around me, pulling me closer. I shivered, not realizing how cold I’d been. His embrace made me feel completely safe and protected, just like back in the pickup truck. It was magic—I didn’t think anything could comfort me right now, but he did.

I nodded, blinking hard, trying to think straight. “I can go to my friend Brooke’s house,” I said.

“No. Fuck that,” said Axl. “You’re comin’ with me until this blows over.”

Oh my god
, I thought. Not again. I felt my dream of competing at the indie film festivals slipping away from me. And graduation—I couldn’t afford to miss any more classes. But what fucking choice did I have?

“What about my parents?”