Biker Taken (The Lost Souls MC Series Book 6) (7 page)

BOOK: Biker Taken (The Lost Souls MC Series Book 6)
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The bar becomes a moving circus of bodies and I walk to my office, I blank everyone getting ready to leave and cherish the silence the office offers. In the bottom drawer of my desk I grab the two guns I keep here and shove them into the back of my jeans. The door opens and closes and I turn to see Alannah coming towards me.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight, I breathe in her scent and it grounds me instantly. 

“I wanted to make us right before you left,” she says, holding onto me.

“We’re good, I’ll be back by the morning and hopefully Oak will be too.”

“Please, be careful,” she urges.

“I will, don’t lose sleep over this. I’ll do what I have to and then I’ll be back. I’m serious, babe, do not worry.”

“How can I not, when you’ve got two guns on you and they have Oak God knows where?” she snorts.

Kissing her hard and fast, I spin her in my arms and lead her out of the office, if she had the chance, she would try to warn me all night.

The bar has cleared out by the time we return, and it makes it easier to cross the empty floor. I place a soft kiss on my sons head all the while keeping Alannah’s hand in mine.

“Make sure my wife stays here please,” I ask Bonnie, making her smile, ruefully. 

Bonnie is strong. Growing up the way she did under Hunter’s abusive rule and marrying Sparky, she worries a lot less than the other women married in the club. Alannah is strong too, but she hasn’t seen as much violence as Bonnie.

“I’ll try.”

There is a full moon tonight and it shines bright over the club, by the time the sun rises over our club, the world will look differently.

Chapter Ten

Cas

 

The Devil’s Bastards clubhouse isn’t as big as ours. Where ours is more industrial on a larger scale, theirs is more of a big house sitting on a lot of land.

I stop my bike in front of their gates and my brothers stop either side of me. I hold my hand up to signal to wait for my next move and pull out my smokes.

Lighting up and inhaling deeply, I watch the house and notice that although the lights are on, it is very quiet, too quiet.

Noah rolls up beside me and unclips his helmet.

“What’s your plan, Cas?” he asks.

I take a drag on my cigarette and flick it to the ground. I want to go in guns blazing and shoot every fucker between the eyes just for the audacity they have for thinking they can take one of us, let alone for setting their sights on my club. As hard as it is, I have to be rational.

Blowing out a long stream of smoke, I make a decision.

“I’m going to walk in like I don’t know anything, it’s up to Danny how we proceed,” I shrug.

“You’re going to walk in?” he asks in shock.

“Why not? I put him on his ass once, I’ll put him in the ground if I have to.”

“Brother, you’re not going in there on your own,” Sparky grunts, on my other side.

“Lost Souls will go in, Noah and his boys will stay out here and look around for Oak. If they see them with us then he’ll know we know they’ve got Oak and we won’t make it through the door.”

“Danny isn’t like Linc, he’s young, hungry and wants power,” Noah warns.

He’s right, Linc was more than content to have his percentage and live quietly and within his means.

“You sayin’ I’m old,” I snort, I’m only in my early thirties for fuck sake, “This isn’t the first time a dip-shit has wanted to take me out and take my club, even then the prick got took out by a woman.”

That night is still vivid in my mind, I didn’t think Bonnie would come back from it. Sparky nearly lost her because she couldn’t handle killing her brother. Lucky for them she saw sense and moved on in time.

Throwing my leg over my bike, I crunch my neck from side to side and start walking towards to the house. Reaching for one of my guns, I grip it tightly and keep it hidden behind my thigh.

The door is ajar and I nudge it open slowly. Faint music comes from one of the back rooms and my brothers and I follow the heavy metal beats.

Keeping our eyes wide and on every corner we turn, no one is around. Not until, I push open the door to the last room we’ve yet to look in.

Sitting around their table, smirking and at ease, waiting for us, is who I presume to be Danny. I haven’t given him any thought over the last three years and only remember him due to Noah reminding me.

Joining him is eight more men who I don’t recognise. It occurs to me I don’t know any of these men. The Devil’s Bastards I was in business with are laying in the ground trying to rest in peace. These must be the new recruits Danny brought in over the last week.

He sits at the head of the table and his fingers smoothly run along the gavel.

“Welcome,” he smirks.

I show disrespect and pull out a chair and make myself comfortable at the opposite end of the table to the prick I want to pummel his head on and pull out my smokes again.

Running my tongue across my teeth I remember to be rational.

“It has come to my attention the Devil’s Bastards have had a reshuffle in order since Linc was taken out and new plans are taking place,” I begin, “We’ve come to discuss our arrangement,” I lie.

“All you need to know is the Devil’s Bastards motorcycle club is no longer affiliated with the Lost Souls. From now on, we are our own club and will be going in our own direction,” he speaks smooth and adamantly, “We allowed you to walk in our clubhouse tonight but you turn up here again and presume to be top man, we will shoot on sight.”

My brothers and I burst out laughing. It’s like listening to a five-year-old child.

“Aren’t you a brother short?” he quips, sobering us up quickly.

His men all snicker and mine tense behind me.

“You tell me, you seem to be more in the know.”

“All we know is your days of taking what’s ours is over.”

“What do you think we’ve taken from you?” I ask, bemused by this kid.

“For too long we’ve done our fair share of running your guns and we haven’t been adequately paid for it, Linc was happy enough to live by his means but the club is going in a different direction now.”

“So taking our man is you throwing your toys out of your playpen, you want me to get you a pacifier too, will that make you happy? Now, if you want this new club of yours to remain intact and breathing, you’ll return our brother before we get to our bikes.”

Danny begins laughing and his men follow suit, only doing what they follow from him.

“See, you haven’t been listening. We don’t take orders from you anymore, Oak is comfortable enough for now and if you want him back you’ll start by showing us some respect.”

His cool façade is slipping and my patience is fading rapidly.

“Respect?” I snort, “If you want my respect, taking my brother isn’t the way to go about it. The longer you keep him, the less respect I will ever have for you. In fact, I don’t see a day in my life where I’ll have respect for you or this little band of pre-schoolers you’ve found yourself.”

Danny leans back in his chair, and the urge to cross the room and punch the sarcastic smile right off his face invades every thought crossing my mind.

“You should take us more seriously, considering we have Oak and I will do anything to show we are not the Devil’s Bastards everyone has come to know anymore. If one bullet hits me or my men here tonight Oak is dead and your trip will be a waste. I suggest you go home and batten down the hatches, I always get what I want and you’re not going to stop me.”

I lean forward on the table and stare him in the eye. Thinking of my brother, I know he would want me to take out this piece of scum but I can’t bring myself to do anything that will affect his safe return. I fucking hate these situations.

“I’ll give you till tomorrow night to return Oak to us or you’ll get what you want and it will be the fight of your life to stay alive. We won’t take into consideration the history of our clubs, we will treat you like the enemy you want to be and we won’t fuck around. Are you sure you’re ready for this because once you go against us and don’t let Oak go, every man we kill will be on you.”

I push out of the chair and stand tall, crossing my arms over my chest. Danny stands too, facing me off but I don’t feel anything but rage towards him. He wishes I was scared of him. The closest I feel to fear from him is the wellbeing of my brother.

“Looks like we’ll all find out where we stand in twenty-four hours,” he grins.

We sure will I think to myself and know my brothers are thinking the same thing.

“Until tomorrow,” I grunt, turning to leave.

Slade follows beside me and Sparky leaves last after everyone else. Noah and his men are waiting by their bikes and stop talking amongst themselves when they see us coming.

“He isn’t here, Cas. They must have moved him after we left like I thought.”

“It was never going to be that easy,” I shrug.

“What the fuck? We’re just gonna leave?” Sparky growls angrily, reaching his bike beside mine.

“For tonight we are, tomorrow is a different day.”

“He isn’t fucking around, Cas, I saw it in his eyes, he will kill Oak,” Sparky hisses.

“That’s why I didn’t shoot the dipshit, I want Oak back as much as you do but having a shootout isn’t going to help him tonight.”

“He made it very clear what will happen if we step against him tonight,” Slade tells Noah.

It grinds against everything my heart is begging me to do, I stick with using my head and signal for everyone to leave.

The ride back to the clubhouse is long and frustrating. Normally being on the road is soothing and relaxes me no matter what is going on in my life. Not tonight. Too much is at stake and nothing can take the edge of electricity simmering through my bones.

“You need to get some sleep,” Sparky tells me, unclipping his helmet.

“I want everyone in the back room at ten, and call Pope, I want him back.”

He nods once and disappears himself into the clubhouse, fatigue cutting him with every step he takes.

I make my own way to my old room and quietly lock the door behind me as not to wake Alannah and Leo.

Bending over the travel cot, I press a kiss to my knuckles and sweep them across my son’s face. His little lips bunching up together always gets me.

Stripping down to my boxers, I carefully pull back the sheets and slide in behind my wife. Her warm body automatically moulds with mine and she stirs awake in my arms.

“I hate sleeping in this room,” she whispers, in disgust.

“I know, babe,” I whisper into her hair.

She wiggles and gets comfortable again and asks, “Did you bring him home?”

“No,” I sigh, heavily, “Go back to sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.”

I try to use the silence of the night to form a plan of rescue, but my eyes drift close and I succumb to sleep.

 

                                                                                                                                     
Chapter Eleven

Oak

 

The warm night breeze cools my skin as I ride towards town and back to my place. It dawned on me that I haven’t been there in four months. If truth be told, I hate spending time there and if it didn’t hold sentimental value to me, I’d sell it and spend every night for the rest of my life at the clubhouse. It lost its appeal to me over twenty years ago when the one woman who made it a home left me. I push away the thoughts of Shellie and mentally slap myself for not drinking enough to forget about her. I’ve had more than enough to not be allowed on the road but still, it’s not enough to forget about her. It never is.

The roads are pitch black between the clubhouse and town, and two headlights shine bright in the distance, coming towards me. Thrashing the throttle, I cause a little excitement and speed up. I’ve made this trip countless times over the years and never have I been in an accident. Only, this time, the truck kicks up speed and wavers onto my side of the road. I swerve to their side and it becomes a game to the both of us.

The closer we get, the harder my heart pounds in my chest. Whoever is driving flicks on their high beams and in seconds, I can’t see jack shit and the last swerve I make I slide off my bike and land on the dirt. That’s all I can remember of last night, or maybe it was the night before? I can’t quite remember.  

My eyes open and the sun is beginning to filter through the small window at the top of the wall. It’s not the highlight of my life being tied up in a basement but being able to still see the sun rise doesn’t make it all bad.

My wrists are bound with cable ties tied to the wall above my head and my feet are tied with rope and cutting into my ankles. My body aches to fuck.

Cas will know I’ve been taken by now and all I have to do is wait it out. Then I’m going to take great pleasure in rearranging the face of whoever got me before shooting the shit out of him.

Heavy footsteps pound the floor boards above me. I was a little on the drunk side when they rode me off the road and bustled me into the back of their van. I’ve become lazy in watching my back, lazy or not giving a flying fuck, either one works. Truth is, I’m tired. Tired of everything. For too many years we’ve been watching our backs and not once has it killed me. It can make a man feel invincible, it made me feel invincible.

Well, I’m not invincible as it seems and my ass is numb and paying the price. There’s not much to look at and keep me entertained, broken furniture piled up in the corner and the walls are lined with stacked boxes and crates. Apart from that, the basement is pretty much empty.

The boots above me get louder and it sounds like we have company. I close my eyes, whoever is keeping me here will eventually show their face. There’s no point in losing sleep over these fuckers, whatever happens will happen. I’ve always rode out any situation, believing myself and the club can handle anything and I’m not going to stop now.

Whatever the boots above me are planning to do with me, let them do as they please, I’m not afraid. John ‘Oak’ Johnson isn’t afraid of anything or anyone. Physical pain means nothing to me and I haven’t felt emotional pain in many years.

Death can hurt. I’m not talking your own death. I’m mean someone else’s that you’re close with can hurt. No matter how I die I don’t think it will hurt as much as Mark’s death did. He wasn’t no angel. He could kick ass like the next guy in a bar brawl. Better yet, he would take any cunt out who came for one of his own without a second thought. Yet, the man would sit and listen to anyone who needed an ear to chew off, it didn’t matter how small the problem was to them. He was understanding and compassionate. Brotherhood is more than friendship, the foundations brotherhood are based on are solid. I believed nothing could crack it. I was wrong. Mark’s death was an almighty crack for me and a crack that never healed.

I remember, I got on my bike and rode. I had no destination, no idea of time, I had no feeling at all. I’d been gone for a week after his funeral and my ass couldn’t take any more sitting down. I had spent the nights drowning my sorrows in different bars and sleeping under the stars, and the days riding hard and fast wherever the road led me. During the last night before I returned home, I ended up in yet another bar, which turned out to be the first real night I took notice off since Mark’s death. I had only been there for an hour when a group of rowdy guys walked through the door. I had drunk more than enough to put a lesser man on his ass and it didn’t take long before they noticed me on my own.

Being a part of the club I learned I could watch my back without having to look over my shoulder. The whole bar took on a different atmosphere, other patrons threw me sideway glances as they moved on, and the music went from blaring to a low hum. My heart was pounding against my rib cage, my blood was pumping around my veins at a million miles an hour and I was hyped. The first real feeling I owned and I embraced it.

One of the guys pressed up against my left while another guy pressed up against my right, sandwiching me in.

They spewed some hillbilly shit in my ear, trying to intimidate me, but it had the opposite effect on me.

Every curse and threat I heard enticed me, it pushed me to feel. It took all of ten seconds for fists to start flying, both theirs and mine. I was on fire, I had two of them down before their friends saw it coming. I was releasing built up grief and turning it into aggression. My fists were connecting with jaws and cheekbones and it was a beautiful sight. Well, it was a beautiful sight until a bar stool came down over my head.

The minutes that followed felt like hours, some men would have curled into a ball to protect themselves, not me. I took every kick with pleasure. Strangely, it was the release I needed.

They thought they owned the place, they thought they owned me. They beat me until they were exhausted and believed they won. Only I knew the truth of what happened that night. To them they beat down another guy who wasn’t one of them, to me, they saved me. They brought me back to life.

Whoever has me tied down here like an unwanted mongrel can bring it. It may just bring me back to life again.

I retrace my memory of the events that brought me here and try to remember faces or voices I heard that I could put a name too. The truth is, I can’t remember anything from the minute I came off my bike.

Sometimes, I wish I could back to the beginning and start all over. They were simpler days, everyone was still alive and I had my old lady at my side.

 

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