Hellbent (Four Horsemen MC Book 5) (26 page)

Noah sat by the fire ring outside the trailer. TV static carried from the open window, Jerry's grunting snores lazily accompanying the noise. He rolled himself a joint and gingerly adjusted his injured neck. His cheekbone had gone numb and he really should have put some ice on the swelling.

But he'd be damned before he walked in that door tonight.

He shook with anger and frustration. He wished someone had taught him to fight. Taught him how to take down a motherfucker as big as Jerry. He should have taken the fucking out when Etta offered it to him. How many hours had he spent regretting that decision?

He'd make it up to her somehow. Help her reach kids before they did something as stupid as he'd done. Get them out before they were left feeling this way about their own kin. Before it destroyed their ability to trust another human being.

Though Etta had helped him out there, too. She'd thrown him into Shep's path. And once there, Shep had never failed him. Noah had felt invisible for his whole freaking life, but Shep never took his eyes off him.

Even when he’d nodded, letting Shep know it was okay—watching him walk away was the worst fucking feeling he'd ever experienced. Gut wrenching. Wrong. Terrifying. He'd had to bite his lip to keep from calling out for him to come back.

He'd scrambled far enough away from Jerry to make an extra hit or two more effort than it was worth, so after Shep left, the bastard had just stumbled back inside and locked the door.

Like there was a lock in this trailer park that could keep Noah out.

That was his last comforting thought.

Then, the door banged open behind him and Jerry barely staggered as he walked to the fire-pit. His eyes hard and mouth a tight line, he still had the sawed-off with him. This was no damn good at all. Jerry was sobering up, which made him one mean-ass motherfucker. "You fucking steal my stash again, asshole?"

Noah flipped him off. "Like I'd touch that shit-brown weed you smoke."

He grabbed the joint out of Noah's hand and lit it. "Your fucking slut of a mother ever come home?"

"Why do you care?"

"Bitch owes me money," he growled.

Noah sighed as he rolled himself another. "How much?"

"Two hundred. I told her, if she was going to start using the product she had to pay for it." He sneered, cupping himself. "And since she ain't paid up, I'll be taking cash."

Noah pulled his wallet out and pulled out four fifty dollar bills. He tossed them at Jerry's face. "You’re paid. Move on with your life."

"Where'd you get all that fucking money, pissant?" His eyes fixed on the pocket Noah had tucked the wallet back into.

"Selling weed," Noah said slowly, widening his eyes. "Same way I pay for the food you eat all day."

"Fucking bullshit—you didn’t make all this selling pot." He wadded up the bills and stuffed them in his back pocket. "You get the cash from that fucking pervert you were with? You getting’ paid to suck cock now?"

Noah looked Jerry over. The squint in his eyes, the gruff in his voice, the tightening of his shoulders—he was about to blow. And this was going to be a bad one. He should try to distract Jerry, get him to smoke some pot or go grab another beer and hope he passed out. He was just so tired of placating. Of telling himself there was nothing else he could do.

So that's not what he did.

Noah jumped to his feet. "How about you go fuck yourself?"

"Already told you, ain't no fags allowed under my roof. But don’t forget, I can still kick your whore mom out on her ass, too." He balled up a fist, his grasp on the shotgun white-knuckled.

"Do it. She'll be shacked up with one of the other guys she's fucking before you change the locks." He laughed. "But the only way you're getting your dick wet without her is if
you
start paying for it, asshole."

Jerry swung the shotgun and clipped Noah in the shoulder. He stumbled over the fire ring, and barely kept his feet as he backed away. "Hold still, fucker!"

"No way in hell," he breathed. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, keeping his eyes on Jerry.

He heard a vehicle pull through the park's main entrance and his heart jumped. Shep's stupid, sputtering, mud-spattered truck.

But he'd gotten distracted and in the next second, Jerry was right in front of him. He took a blow to the jaw that rang his bell before he was able to dance away again, and suddenly he was on the ground, pinned by the shotgun barrels, Jerry bent over him.

"Maybe I'll just leave your body here for your momma to find when I shoot you, boy," Jerry growled, his foul breath fanning across Noah.

How many times had he been pinned by this asshole? Scared and crumpled on the floor like trash someone didn't care enough about to throw away. The sting of hundreds of burns and bruises over the years tingled on his skin.

Childhood memories crying fearfully in his ears, he forced himself to keep his eyes open. If he was going to die, he was damn well going to see it coming.

A car door slammed and Jerry whirled to face the noise. Like some kind of avenging angel, Shep stalked across the yard towards them. The moon gleamed along the barrel of his raised Desert Eagle,
deadly
dripping from his every step. 

Jerry leveled his shotgun at Shep's chest for the second time that night. This time, Shep didn't seem to have the patience for it. He kicked gravel up into Jerry's face, left hand shooting out to deflect the barrel of the gun away from his chest. He pivoted and drove his elbow into Jerry's gut and wrenched the gun from his arm.

 The man landed a punch to Shep's shoulder, but he swung the gun around and busted Jerry under the chin. He threw the shotgun in Noah's general direction and Noah grabbed it on instinct.

"What the fuck … where the fuck did you …?" Jerry swayed on his feet.

"Where did I come from? None of your goddamn business, you sick son of a bitch!"  Shep slammed his fist into Jerry's stomach, then backhanded him with the handle of the gun.

Jerry dropped to his knees, stunned. He moaned out some garbled mess that might have been an insult.

Noah couldn't look away, not even blinking. His brain barely registered that the immediate threat had been removed, head hazy and brain ringing.

“If you want your brains to remain in your skull, you won’t move.” Shep aimed his gun at Jerry's head with steady hands. Noah had never seen him like this. Something violent and wrathful had been unleashed in Shep. It crackled around him. “But just so we’re clear, I’m hoping you move.”

Jerry, you stupid motherfucker. You done fucked with the wrong man this time.

"Fuck off …" Jerry wheezed. "Too bad your momma didn’t live long enough to see her preacher son become a faggot.”

“You know, there were two Commandments I always struggled a bit with. Honor thy Father.” Shep's smile was distinctly unsettling when he stepped closer. "And thou shalt not kill."

"You ain't got the stones to shoot me," Jerry sneered. "Wanna-be preacher acting like he's some badass motherfucker who'd kill a man."

"I guess you just picked the wrong fucking day, Jerry." Shep smirked. "Cuz today, I decided I don't want to be a preacher anymore. I look at a piece of shit like you and just can't picture you being forgiveness. Can't figure you'll ever be worth my time."

"Fuck off, asshole," Jerry growled.

"Maybe if I'd have come over here and you'd been passed out, pissing and puking on yourself, I might've walked away." Shep pressed the barrel of the gun against Jerry's forehead. "But I got here just in time stop you from killing your own fucking son, you son of a bitch. I don't think you deserve to live and right now I don't give a fuck if it's my place to judge. You ain't worth the space you take up."

"Then fucking do it!" Jerry yelled voice sharp with panic. His face was pale, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. Noah had never seen a scared expression on Jerry's face before. "Stop yapping at me and do it. Or get the fuck out of here."

Noah couldn't move, frozen to the spot. He racked his brain for some tender memory of his dad. Anything that might have a chance at sparking remorse if Shep fucking killed his father in front of him. All he could remember was watching his mother cry, holding ice against her face. The racing of his heart when he first stood up to Jerry, barely knee high to a grasshopper and shaking in his double-knotted sneakers.

He remembered the day the asshole had found his mom cheating. He'd walked up to Jerry and kicked him in the balls. By the end of the night, Jerry had him corralled in a corner, putting out his cigarettes on Noah's arm instead of his mom's like he'd threatened.

Noah looked back up at Shep. There was nothing hesitant in his stance, no waver in his moves. Noah wanted Shep to pull the trigger. Wanted this to be over. Wanted Jerry off this planet.

He was willing to bet most people didn't think Shep was capable of taking a life. They didn't know him like Noah did. There was darkness within Shep's reach. A steady stream of gasoline running through his blood, itching for a match.

Shep was probably the only fucking person on the planet that really gave a damn about Noah. Watching him take down the person who’d his life a fucking hellhole felt like the most important moment in Noah's life.

Shep cocked the barrel. "Jesus may forgive you. I won't."

"Go to hell!"

"Save me a seat." Shep pulled the trigger.

Noah's knees gave and he dropped the shotgun as the sound of the gunshot echoed through the lot. Blood and brain matter hit the grass with a wet splatter and Jerry toppled backward onto the ground.

Shep spat on the dead man. "Dust to dust, asshole."

Noah climbed to his feet, stumbling over to stand next to Shep, gaze fixed to the dead boy of his father.  He breathed, "You fucking killed him."

Shep dropped the gun, grabbed Noah's shoulder and yanked him against his chest. He could feel the Shep's face buried in his neck, fingers digging into his back, clasp tight. Shep sucked in a shuddering breath.

He pulled back, cupping Noah's jaw, searching his face. "Thought I was about to lose you."

"Never happen," Noah whispered, the words rising without thought.

"I … shit." Shep shoved his hands through his hair. "Alright, we gotta—"

"Shut the fuck up." Noah hooked his arm around Shep's neck and tugged him close enough to see Shep's pupils blow out, the thick gilded fan of his blond lashes closing over the crystal blue orbs a second later. Noah crashed his lips against Shep's, breathing in his sharp gasp.

Shep arms snapped around his waist and he pushed his hips forward. Their bodies fell together, aligning with precise perfection. He thrust his tongue into Noah's mouth, a low growl escaping his throat.

Hands slid up Noah's back, heat trailing in their wake. Noah shivered, sucking Shep's bottom lip into his mouth and then licking into him, slow and thorough. Stubble caressed Noah's hands as he tried to lose himself in the taste of the best thing to ever happen in his life.

But Shep pulled away, eyes wrecked and breath ragged. He looked so lost Noah's heart skipped a beat. Finally, he drew a breath. "Think your neighbors called the cops?"

"Fuck no." He patted down his pockets, searching for his cigarettes. "What do you think this is, Mayberry? It's fucking Hell's Gate Trailer Park. Nobody gives a damn about a couple of random shots—you got a light?"

Shep shook his head. "Maybe in the truck?" He laughed, the sound uncomfortably close to hysterical.

Noah frowned. "Take a breath, man. I got your back. We'll figure this out."

"Figure it out? What's to figure out?" Shep sat down on the ground. "I killed him. Now I'm going to jail. It's done."

"Chill the fuck out. Ain't no one going to jail over that piece of shit." Noah frowned as he knelt by his father. He reached into the guy's pockets and came back with his wallet, two lighters and a dime bag. "Boo yah! Look at that, asshole. I guess I can't say you never gave me nothing now."

Shep rubbed his eyes like he wanted to tell Noah going through his dead father's pockets was wrong, but couldn't bring himself to say it.

Noah lit two smokes and passed one to Shep. He blew a steady stream of smoke into the sky and did a slow 360, examining the privacy fence. "Alright, I got some shovels out back by my new garden. How deep do you figure?"

"Deep?" Shep blinked at him.

"Six feet enough? Or should we go further since we're surrounded by people?" Noah tried to think. He knew where the water line was, because he'd tapped off it to water his plants. If they dug right behind the trailer, they'd miss everything vital. Not like their grass wasn't fucking dead and brown anyhow. No one would even think about it.

"You want to bury him? Here?" Shep stood. "Look, I came over here pretty damn sure I was gonna kill the bastard. I wasn't trying to get away with it."

"Then you're a fucking moron. And you need to let me lead for once." Noah rolled his eyes.

"Maybe they—" Shep gestured to trailers beyond the fence. "Don't give a fuck about a couple shots and people yelling. But I think they'll notice us burying someone in your back yard."

"People don't stick their nose in our business, believe me." Noah smirked. "Ask Etta about finding a witness 'round this shithole when we're the drug hook-up here. They don't peek over our fences."

Shep stared at him. "So, what? We're just gonna bury your father behind your trailer and pretend he run off?"

"We say nothing. People will make assumptions." Noah shrugged.

What're you gonna tell your mom?"

"That her husband's a drunk, violent piece of shit and she should be fuckin' thrilled he left her since she didn't have enough self-respect to do it herself." He shook his head. "But I'll probably say it nicer."

"I can't … I don't know if I can do that." He shivered.

"Shep …" Noah wet his lips and stepped forward. He put his hands on Shep's shoulders. "You fucking listen to me. That asshole has done nothing but beat on her and beat on me, sell people meth and heroin they can't afford and spread a nasty case of crabs. And I'll be fucking buried right next to him before I let you go down for killing a piece of shit like that."