CHAOS (A Lords of Sin MC Novel) (Motorcycle Club Bad Boy Romance) (3 page)

“None that involve the Sergeant of Fresno County,” I shot an icy stare in his direction with a cocked eyebrow. I’d learned to imitate Troy quite well when I dated him—and it came in handy more times than I’d like to admit.

“So brutally painful,” he put his hand over his heart.

We’ve gone out to dinner a few times, but only as friends. I know he wants more, but when you find a good friend who’s known you for years and knows where you come from, it’s a good thing to hold onto. Besides, there’s no way I’d ever date a guy like him. He was decent looking, but his personality was all over the map.

“Matty, you know we’re just a couple of good old friends. Let’s leave it at that.”

After being with Troy, I hadn’t dated much. Not many men compared to him. Sure, it was only a high school love affair—sex affair was more like it—but nobody possessed the same bad boy qualities that he did. Nor did they make my pussy drip with anticipation as my panties melted.

“Don’t think your pale skin, dark hair and weird clothes scare me away,” he slowly sipped his coffee as he lingered around the lab, eying me like I was on tonight’s dinner menu. “Goth chicks are hot.”

“Matty, I think women in general scare you.” Examining the corpse, I spotted the marking right off the bat. “We’ve got another one,” I pointed to his abdominal cavity.

“Another one?” Amber, my understudy, asked.

“Yep, right there. Another Lords of Sin symbol carved into his stomach,” I pointedly said.

“I’ll be damned,” Matty commented. “Plain as daylight. An upside down cross.” He walked around the exam table staring at the symbol, trying his best to look intelligent. “How many does this make now? I lost count with so many turning up lately.”

Yeah, I bet you did.
As scatterbrained as he was, I bet he couldn’t remember the last time he took a shit. How he became Sergeant is beyond me. It had to be a lot of ass kissing and sucking up. “Four, including this one.” I put on a pair of rubber gloves while Amber grabbed the clipboard to document markings and injuries. “I don’t understand why we’ve been seeing so many of ‘em come through here with the Lords’ symbol,” I shook my head. “Doesn’t make any sense.”

The body count was piling up fast with their symbol carved, burned or cut into the corpses. Four men, all local MC members from various clubs, sporting the Lords’ symbol. It had been ages since I’d seen Troy, and there was no telling what the boys were up against. He’d always been so closemouthed back in the day, and that was before he was even a fully patched member.

“I need to go grab the voice recorder and a pen that works,” Amber left Matty and I staring at the gory corpse. Gaping flesh with dried blood occupied most of his chest and stomach. The hunks of meat dangling from his corpse made me lose my appetite for lunch.

“Not sure, but the Lords have not been talkative any time I or one of my guys try to question them. And, they all claim they didn’t have anything to do with the recent increase in these gruesome murders.”

“I’d imagine. Have you talked to everyone at their clubhouse? Even the hangers on, old ladies and the filthy strippers that frequent there? Maybe one of them might know.”

“Yep, but no one’s talking.”

Figures as much. If Troy wouldn’t talk as a prospect back then, there was no way any of the MC would tell the cops anything now, especially if they were at war.

As I studied Scott Theobold, I noticed that his murder wasn’t as horrid as some of the others that had already came through the lab. “Looks like a clean kill compared to the others you brought me,” I remarked to Matty. “They were all beaten pretty badly before they were killed when you’d brought them in.”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “except that one guy.”

How could I forget him?
His head was completely caved in. Bashed beyond recognition. I’d handled some terrifying autopsies before, but never seen nothin’ like that before.

“The thing that I don’t get is why they’re all so brutal? Beaten, wounded and shot multiple times. These are definitely vengeful murders.”

“Well, our good ‘ole boys from Fresno claim it ain’t them. I have a feeling we’re going to have to dig pretty deep to get to the bottom of things,” he poured himself another cup of coffee. “Problem is, most of ‘em got rap sheets longer than an anaconda.”

“Have you talked to the other MCs? See if they have any leads?”

“They’re not talking either,” he tossed his Styrofoam cup in the trash. “I better get going, the lieutenant wants to have a meeting about the MCs and she’ll have my ass if I’m late.”

“Take care,” I offered as I studied the engraved symbol in the cadaver’s abdomen. “I’ll keep you posted if I find anything else on our latest victim.”

I wonder if I should reach out to Troy.
It’s been forever since we’ve spoken to each other, but maybe he can give me some insight on all these corpses piling up in my lab. Though, I’d be crossing numerous personal and professional lines as it’s not my place to insert myself in the middle of a murder investigation. But with all these bodies coming in with their marking, it makes me wonder if the MC is in some sort of trouble.

The last time we talked was right after our high school graduation when things between us ended not-so-good. All throughout high school, I’d been a party girl. The Goth, pot-smoking freak who ran with the wrong crowd. Troy was part of that crowd, as well as his best friend Vic, and even Matty. If it hadn’t been for my infatuation with the dead, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I find that working with the dead is more comfortable and intellectually stimulating than working with the people around here. Becoming a medical examiner was probably the best thing I ever did for myself. Troy and I were a dangerous couple, constantly feeding off of one another. The only time I’d ever been arrested was once when I was with him for having hot, wild sex on the back of his bike in an alley.
Goddamn, I miss dirty alley sex!
The only thing they charged us with was public disturbance, though. Who knows what path I would’ve went down if I’d stuck around here, hanging onto Troy’s every lead and command. When I came home from school and started working for the county, I was stunned to see that Matty was a cop. He was a lowly prospect when I’d left for Texas to embark on my new journey. When I returned to Fresno and reunited with Matty, he filled me in on the fact that Troy was serving time. Just a short sentence, though. They couldn’t get any formal charges to stick other than non-cooperation with the police. He was as slick as a baby’s wet ass; it didn’t surprise me any that they couldn’t get him on the other charges.

I know it’s a bad idea to track him down, but maybe I can help make some sense of all this.
With the growing number of bodies turning up with the Lords’ symbol, he might be able to shed some light on the situation. Matty had pointed out that none of the men that have came into my lab were members of the Lords of Sin; they were members of other local MCs. If memory serves me correctly, Troy should’ve gotten out of prison a few months ago.
Would he actually tell me anything if I did get in touch with him? Could he actually be behind some of these murders?

“You okay?” Amber asked after calling my name a few times with no response.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She broke my trance. Troy had that effect on me. One minute I was fine, and the next I’d daydream about him spreading my thighs on the seat of his bike, plowing into me while my tits bounced as he pinned me down, leaving a trail of his thick, sticky cum dripping out of me for hours.

“You ready?”

“I can hardly contain myself,” I mocked her.

She clicked the ball-point pen in her hand as we began the autopsy. By the end of the day, we’d finished three autopsies, and I needed a stiff drink after thoughts of Troy had been running rampant through my head all day. I’d contemplated whether or not I should try to talk to him—if he’d even tell me anything. I finally decided that I should check out his local club’s bar for a bit of a high school reunion and a whiskey on the rocks.

Driving down Highway 180, my palms began to sweat and my stomach turned.
I should’ve gone home. Yep, went home, had a couple of drinks, a hot bath and got in bed.
Exiting the freeway, I glanced in the rear view mirror at myself. At the age of 33, you’d think I’d be over my bad boy crush, but the truth was, I’d never really gotten over him. I still remember the raw, hot sex we had. Didn’t matter if we were alone while my parents were gone or if we were parked on the side of the main drag.

Sitting at the stop light two blocks from the Lords’ House of Commons, I glanced down at my car clock as I started to twirl the ring on my thumb. It was almost seven o’clock. I was hoping for the best but my mind played tricks on me as worst case scenarios clouded my thoughts. I closed my eyes, wishing that everything would go smoothly when I was startled by a blaring horn. I nearly jolted in my seat as I looked up at the green light and then in my rear view mirror at the guy who was holding his hands up in the air. “Fuck you asshole!” I flipped him off. Pressing down on the gas pedal, I darted through the intersection.

What is wrong with you, Raven?
I’ve never gotten antsy when it came to men, but when it came to him, I was putty. Thinking back to the last time I saw him, a vivid image formed in my mind. We were in front of the pawn shop on Olive Street, a few weeks before I left for college. He was wearing a pair of worn, faded blue jeans with a black clingy shirt that exaggerated his sculpted biceps and a pair of weathered boots. A black bandanna was tied around his forehead, pulling his long dark hair away from his face. We barely spoke two words to each other, which drove a knife right through me. Well, it was either that or the skank he had on his arm. I’d say it was the latter. He never had a problem when it came to getting women to hop into bed with him—including me. I gave him my V-card during our senior year, and probably about a dozen other girls, too.

“Shit!” I slammed on the brakes. I drove right past the fucking House of Commons as I reminisced.
Come on girl, get it together.
I circled the block and made my way back around. A couple of younger guys—prospects—were guarding the gate. I pulled up to the entrance and rolled down my window. One of the guys walked up to my car.

“You lost?” One of the punks with red, spiked hair asked me. The other one, with a shaved head, kept his silence as he stared a hole through me.

Dumbfounded, I stared at him. “I’m here to see Troy.”

“Troy?”

The guy with the shaved head walked over as he heard him repeat the name. “Let her in dumb ass!”

Red shrugged and pulled the tall gate open, allowing me to pull in.

All of the motorcycles were lined up against the building in a neat row. If they were Lego's, one kick would send them all crashing down. I parked next to the cars on the lot and took a deep breath as I looked around. The lot was deserted other than the two prospects guarding the gate. Arguing, the one who said to let me in explained who Troy was to the prospect that gave me trouble. It looked as though Red and Baldy were still arguing.
How does he not know who Troy is?
He’s been in this club longer than that skinny twig’s had dick hair.

Standing up to get out of my car, my knees buckled. I took a quick look around to make sure no one saw before I stood tall and straightened my clothes as I ran my hand through my hair. I contemplated getting back in the car and going home as I began walking toward the House of Commons, but I’d already came this far, I wasn’t giving up now.

Inside, I saw a few familiar faces. Vic and Drew were sitting at the bar with a couple of women—club whores, I assumed. Drew was two years ahead of us in high school, but Vic, Troy and I were all in the same class. For a moment I was thankful that he wasn’t sitting there when I walked in. The place was much bigger than it looked on the outside.

“Raven Harris?” Vic asked.

“In the flesh!” I flashed a nervous smile. “How in the hell have you guys been?”

“Eh, all right, I guess. What the hell brings you here?”

“Um,” I stuttered for the right words. “Actually, I’m here to see Troy.”

“You mean Chaos,” they all laughed at me. “He hasn’t used his name in ages,” Vic corrected me.

The seat bunny sitting on Vic’s lap stood up and extended her hand. “I’m Princess.”

“Raven,” I obliged. “Do you guys know where I can find him?”

“He’s in the back, I’ll go get him,” Princess pushed out her fake tits, grinding her ass against Vic’s crotch as she looked at me from the corner of her eye.

By the look she shot at me, I knew she wasn’t the welcome wagon. She trotted her way, on her six-inch spikes, to the back as I ordered a whiskey on the rocks and waited at the bar for Troy to emerge from the back.