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Authors: Bella Maybin

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Obsessed

BOOK: Obsessed
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Obsessed (Motorcycle Club Romance)

 

By Bella Maybin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2014 Bella Maybin

 

 

All rights reserved.

 

 

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

 

 

 

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Obsessed (Motorcycle Club Romance)

Book design by Bella Maybin

 

 

 

“Damn, boy! You sure can mop a floor,” said Hayes from behind the clubhouse bar. “It’s sparklin’ like a diamond. I bet you learned how to do that in the joint, huh?”

 

“Well, the first place I ever scrubbed floors was in the military…” James gave the president a wry smile, “but I guess you could say I refined my technique behind the walls.”

 

Hayes howled with laughter, “I knew you used to be a jarhead. You wear your boots too fuckin’ clean.”

 

A quick burst of daylight temporarily blinded him when Barksdale pushed through the door. James tucked his head to his chest and continued with his work. They had been riding him hard for weeks. His back hurt and all he wanted was to put his feet up on the couch and crack a cold beer. But, his “dog time” was almost over. It wouldn’t be more than a few days before they gave him full member status, and James knew he could take it. It was a small price to pay for the opportunity to ride with The Guard.

 

“Goddamn HOHers knocked some old man over the head and robbed his store over on Ninth,” said Barksdale.

 

Hayes Granger cocked an eyebrow. “Ninth? They’re gettin’ ballsy, aren’t they, Roads?”

 

“Damn right they’re gettin’ ballsy, Prez. That’s right on the edge of the territory. It’s a sign of disrespect if nothing else,” said Barksdale.

 

“What kind of assholes hold up an old man who never did shit to nobody?” said Hayes. He looked up at the ceiling, as if bored with the petty details. “Besides, what’d they even get off him? Two...three hundred dollars? Fuckin’ bush-leaguers.”

 

The Hands of Hades riders had been a growing pain in the ass for Hayes Granger and The Executioner’s Guard. They were the only gang in a thousand mile radius who would even be so bold as to get their attention.

 

“What do think about all this, young blood?”

 

James didn’t even look up from his mop, “I don’t think anything about it, boss. But if you want something dealt with, then I’m your man.” He pushed on, ignoring the dull pain between his shoulders.

 

Hayes cracked a grin, “You hear this, Roads? The guy thinks he’s Charles Bronson or some-damn-body.” He flicked a bottle cap at James.

 

“I hear him,” said Barksdale. “He sure is an icy motherfucker.”

 

“He is, isn’t he?” said Hayes. “You just worry about makin’ those floors shine, dirt bag, and we’ll tell you when you’re gonna work.”

 

***

 

Loud pipes roared over the cursing and laughing. Members of The Executioner’s Guard gathered in the dusty lot behind the bar, eagerly circling their prey.

 

Three new guys were up for initiation. Along with James, were Blake and Ricky. Blake dripped sweat from every pore. He was tense and afraid. James thought Blake was better suited to be a rent-a-cop than he was for the roughest biker gang on the west coast.

 

Ricky, on the other hand, was good material. He was young and devoted, like James. Ricky never bitched about doing the heavy lifting, or about being the low man on the totem pole. He took it in stride, and his allegiance to the gang was solid.

 

“You boys ready?” yelled Hayes over the crowd. His question was met with a cascade of hoots hollers from the gang.

 

“I thought so,” he said. “What about you, dirt bags?”

 

James and Ricky shared a quick glance, then both lowered their heads. Blake was bouncing back and forth on nervous toes. His clothes were drenched from the sweat. James knew he wouldn’t last.

 

“It’s easy to talk a big game,” said Hayes, “but now, it’s time to show The Executioner’s Guard what you’re really made of.” There were more yells from the group. They were getting drunker and more violent by the second.

 

“You’re here to show that you’re willing to die for your colors. You’re not here to run and you’re not here to fight. There are no rules, but make sure you remember that.”

 

Barksdale leaned against his motorcycle, his full attention on James. Of all the recruits over the past few years, he thought James was the one who might have the most potential. In the old days, men who were ready for war were a dime a dozen. But, the new generation was more reckless. More likely to get wrapped up in the drugs and women. More likely to be caught off guard. Barksdale thought James had the look of a killer, and that is exactly what he had been searching for.

 

The circle closed in around the three new recruits. James stood his ground. Blake backed up, standing heel-to-heel with him. James could feel him shaking. For a moment, he even thought he saw the determined look on Ricky’s face falter.

 

“No more time for words, men,” Hayes yelled over the noise. “Let’s find out what we got here!”

 

It was like turning a pack of wild dogs loose on a fresh steak. They all converged at once, kicking and punching and swinging chains. James took the toe of someone’s boot in the ribs and buckled from the pain. The three of them were pulled apart and James heard Blake yelp like a wounded animal. There was no way in hell, he decided, they were going to get a peep out of him.

 

The world became a blur. He took a closed fist to the temple and rocked back. He tried, with everything he had to stay on his feet, but he wouldn’t raise his hands in defense. His t-shirt was pulled up around his throat and used as a makeshift noose. His body jerked in reaction and his hands pulled at the fabric.

 

Somewhere to his left Ricky was sprawled in the dirt and taking a heavy dose of boots to the body. James could tell he was hanging in there. Behind him, Blake swung wildly and scrambled to get away. He was screaming and begging for mercy.

 

Everything around him seemed to slow. He could hear angry words being shouted, and engines revving. Dirt was in his eyes and in his mouth. The air was pungent with the smell of oil. He felt like the calm in the middle of the storm.

 

James desperately tried to get his thinking in order. He tried to remember the stories he heard about the beat downs. He wondered how long it had been since it started.

 

Blinding pain shot through the right side of his face and down his jaw line. He recognized the smoothness of leather against his cheek. A low hum started in his ears, then slowly grew in intensity to an almost unbearable, high-pitched tone. The darkness came in from the corners of his vision. He wondered if he had lost teeth. Before he could complete the thought, he went unconscious.

 

***

 

James awoke to the sound of voices in the distance. He felt like death.
What the hell happened?
Every thought was a struggle.

 

“Look who’s awake,” said a familiar voice. “I think you’re in,” said Nash. He was an older member, and one of the few who wasn’t afraid to crack a smile.

 

Every inch of him ached. James felt crippled on the floor. A splitting headache was on its way and he could still taste a hint of blood in his mouth.

 

“I’ll be goddamned if that wasn’t one of the worst beatings I’ve seen around her in awhile,” said Nash. “I think those boys got a little riled up with the full moon, and all.”

 

“Where am I?” asked James.

 

“Shit, son. Right where you was.”

 

It took a minute to sink in, but then he realized he was still in the same spot where he passed out the night before. He ran his tongue along his top row of teeth, then his bottom. They were all still there.

 

“Where is everybody?” The sun was low in the sky. It had to be the early morning hours, he figured.

 

“Where do you think they are?” said Nash. “Probably suffering through some nasty-ass hangovers if I had to guess. The whole crew was celebratin’ while you were out here takin’ a nap for the last eight hours.”

 

Shit.
James thought.
Knocked out for eight hours?

 

“What happened to the other two?”

 

Nash paused and kicked at the dirt. “Well, that pussy was screamin’ and hollerin’ the whole time. I’m sure you at least heard that before the lights went out. They chased his ass outta here faster than lightning. Gotta bunch of good licks in on him though. Pretty sure if he ever comes around here again he’ll be dead before he can say hello.”

 

“What about the kid?”

 

“He didn’t do a hell of a lot better,” said Nash. “He was no pussy, but he couldn’t keep his cool either. Pulled a knife on a couple of the brothers when they backed him into a corner.”

 

James shook his head. He didn’t want to hear the rest.

 

“Yeah,” said Nash, “I thought he was gonna be a good one, but the prez doesn’t stand for that shit. The boys sure were pissed when they had to dig a hole for him out back.”

 

“Fuck. They killed him?” said James.

 

“Damn right, they did. You can’t trust a man like that. What the hell are you so concerned for anyway? You made it. It’s all good for you now, son.”

 

***

 

The hot water washed away the dirt, but the bruises would stay. He was supposed to meet with the president, and his right-hand-man Barksdale at seven. He assumed the meeting was about a job, but he didn’t know for sure.

 

The bathroom mirror was completely fogged by the steam rising from the shower. James let the water cascade over him as he rested his head against the wall. Years of rough living had taken its toll on his body. There were scars on his knuckles and elbows. They were evidence of the battles he’d won. He hardly remembered where most of them came from.

 

***

 

“You’re on time. That’s good,” said Hayes. “Too many of you young guys get caught up in the life and forget what it means to show up when a man says to.”

 

“Like I told you before, I’m here to put in work,” said James.

 

Hayes and Barksdale shared a look. “Take it easy kid, we’re gonna put you to good use. But there’ll be plenty of time for that later. Right now, you’re gonna have some fun.”

 

“I just wanna be a full-member. That’s all I need,” said James.

 

“You proved to be a tough man to break, we appreciate that,” said Barksdale. “But now you gotta prove that you can be one of the guys.”

 

James was confused, but he didn’t dare question him.

 

“We can’t have members running around like lone wolves. We’re brothers here. We ride together, we fight together, and we party together. If you don’t have a little camaraderie with the crew, nobody’s gonna trust you in battle.”

 

“I’m all-in, and whatever that means to you...it means the same to me,” said James.

 

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” said Hayes. “That’s why we got you a little welcoming gift.” He chuckled, and so did the men at the bar behind him. “Bring ‘em out,” he yelled toward the back of the room.

 

Keith Dalton, one of the president’s top lieutenants, led three young women to the center of the room. James watched, his face set in stone.

 

All three appeared to be college girls. They were nineteen or twenty at the most. The blonde was giggling. She was wearing an orange tank top with no bra, a denim skirt, and leather boots that came up to mid-calf. The brunette wore a shredded t-shirt that barely covered her curvy breasts. The black-haired girl had on dark eye makeup and twirled a set of silver handcuffs on her finger as she walked.

 

James looked over his shoulder at the president.

 

“The spoils of war, my friend,” said Hayes. “Go have yourself some fun.”

 

James looked over the girls and then back to the president. “What...you want me to pick one?” They were all gorgeous but something told him to take the one with the cuffs.

 

“Hell no, I don’t want you to pick one,” he paused and looked around the room. The men were all staring at James. “Those are party girls, son. I want you to take all three.”

 

“Oh shit,” the words escaped James’s lips, although he didn’t mean for them to. The room erupted in laughter.

 

BOOK: Obsessed
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