Originals Ride: Hellions Motorcycle Club (Hellions Ride Book 8) (14 page)

I bang the gavel down on the table. Sermon opens as Danza flips the door lock, securing the room.

“I’m not gonna beat around the bush, boys. We’ve lost too damn much,” I begin. “What do we have on Paul Watson?” I look at Frisco, feeling the eyes of the younger members watching me, not knowing the name.

“Paul Shannon Watson, male, sixty-two years old. Currently resides in West Palm Beach, Florida. He previously served a nickel for weapons. He has one ex-wife, Jayne Wheatley, and one child resulting from the relationship. He patched to Fury MC in 1981, earned his diamond one-percenter patch in 1986. He has nine kills to his name for the club, and his current rank is president.”

Danza stands, unable to remain still. “How does Fury tie into Rocky’s crash? The cops tested the man; he was drunk. The beverage company even paid Dina out in a settlement.”

“Fury runs transports with the company and holds a thirty percent stake in the company,” Frisco answers, moving papers around in the file.

“Are you shittin’ me?” I stand then pace the room right beside Danza. “We went soft. We let them sneak up on us. All this fucking time, they have been plannin’, and we sat back and let them.”

“How were we supposed to know?” Danza says, running his hands through his hair. “We were, like, fucking twenty when this shit started. Hell, we didn’t know shit about a club back then. Think of all the mistakes we made. Shit, we landed our own asses in jail. Come on, Roundman, we had no way to know.”

“Get Jayne and the kid here. It’s time to find out what’s gone on with Watson the last two decades. No better way than an ex-wife,” I order.

Finishing the meeting, I dismiss the club, feeling the weight of it all bear down on my shoulders. We slipped up. I slipped up, and it cost my best friend and his wife their lives.

I won’t slip up again. Paul Watson should have paid the price years ago for what happened with Clive. I let him off the hook.

Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, time to meet the reaper. And I’m going to be delivering his personal invitation to Hell.

Truth Comes Out

As soon as Roundman issues the order, I head home to pack a bag.

Strolling inside my house, my mind is on what I need to pack. However, then I hear the sounds of Amy talking to herself and stop in my tracks.

“Breathe in and out.” She inhales sharply and exhales loudly. “Gotta calm down, Amy. He’s dead. The shop is gone. No one will get to you again.”

Amy Mitchell, the woman who has lived with me and worked with me for years now. She’s a beautiful young woman with long brown hair, bright green eyes, and the hourglass figure that gets any red-blooded man hard. She’s a beautiful person inside and out, but things between us are so beyond complicated.

She first showed up at the Hellions’ compound with Felix Delatorre. He had threatened her family to get her to ship stuff for him, and then she ended up a bigger pawn in his game when Doll tried to help the woman.

When we set up the raid on Delatorre, Amy stepped in to help the Hellions. For that, I brought her back home. Since she’s been here, we have had years of battling her anxiety and panic attacks.

She lives here with me. For about a year, I had to sleep with her in my arms in order for her to actually sleep. It’s taken time to get her in her own room, but we are there now. At least I can rub one out privately when the urge hits me.

In a different lifetime, things may have worked out in another way for the two of us. But, long ago, I learned this life isn’t for everyone. She’s been through enough without me trying to remotely complicate anything else for either of us.

When I hit her bedroom door, I see her in some yoga pose, talking to herself. Her head is down, her ass is in the air, and she’s trying to calm her breathing.

“Baby, you should stand up straight so all the blood ain’t rushin’ to your head.”

She spreads her legs wide and peeks at me from between them. “Trying relaxing techniques. It’s called Downward-Facing Dog.”

“Looks to me like an invitation to take you from behind,” I tell her honestly, fighting my dick from getting hard at the mere thought of fucking her.

“You big tease.” She smiles at me, finally standing up and getting her spankable ass out of my face.

“Gotta take a trip for a while. The boys will be around if you need something. You can crash with Sass and Tank if you get too nervous. I’m sure she would love the help with Red.”

Walking over to me wearing her workout pants and tank top that has her breasts pushing out of the top, thanks to her bra, she reaches up and pats my chest. Fire shoots through me like it does every time she touches me.

“Frisco, this ain’t the first time you’ve had to leave me. I’m okay. I have good days and bad days, and I deal with it. You do what you gotta do.”

“It’s good to see you so strong.”

She slides her hand up to my cheek, brushing my goatee with her thumb. “Thanks to you, I am. All thanks to you.”

I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. “You always had it inside you. Be proud, Amy. You never let him break you.”

She hugs me tightly before pulling slowly away. I can see the emotions she’s trying to hold back in her eyes.

“Gotta get you packed and on the road,” she says with a rasp in her voice before stepping away.

Going to my room, I head straight to the bathroom to shower.

The water is warm as I try to relax, but I can’t. There is too much going on with the club, and this ride to Florida won’t be easy.

Drying off, I simply wrap the towel around my waist before walking into my room where Amy is standing over my duffel bag, filling it on my bed.

I wrap my arms around her shoulders from behind, and she jumps at the contact before realizing it’s me.

“You smell good,” she says, continuing to pack.

“Soap works wonders.”

She laughs, and I wish she did more of that.

She turns in my arms and wraps her own around my waist, resting her head on my shoulder. “Gonna miss you, Frisco.”

“Gonna miss you, Amy.”

“Ride safe,” she whispers before pulling back.

Tipping her chin to make her look at me, I lick my lips before I softly press mine to hers. She opens slightly, and I slip my tongue into her mouth. A moan escapes her as she explores my mouth. I feel her body tremble as she holds me tight, wanting more.

Groaning, I pull away, ending our kiss with a quick peck then trailing the hair of my goatee across her cheek. “Can’t do this and then leave you.”

She bites her bottom lip, looking contemplative. “Club comes first.” The tone in which her words comes out isn’t jealous nor malicious; it’s more matter of fact. She simply accepts this part of my life.

I don’t know how to take it.

I also don’t have time to dwell on it since she happens to have my bag packed, and I really do need to get on the road.

She leaves me to my thoughts and to get dressed. Then, with a soft kiss good-bye, she sends me on my way.

***

Danza rides with me as we make the thirteen-hour trip to Jayne Wheatley’s home where she lives with her daughter, Shannon Watson, Paul’s only child. As soon as we cross into Georgia, we are on alert for any sign of Fury.

Pulling up to a non-descript residential neighborhood, I can’t help wondering how the ol’ lady to Paul Watson could live in such a cookie-cutter place. The house is cream stucco with Spanish-style roofing tiles. Palm trees sit at the corner of her driveway on each side.

We don’t hide who we are when we ride straight up on our bikes into the cement driveway.

Nothing could prepare me for going up to Jayne Wheatley’s front door. The doorbell chimes like any other. The door opens.

The woman in front of me is a shadow of someone I once knew. My heart stops, and questions fill my mind as to why she’s here.

“Frisco,” she whispers as I look deep into the hazel eyes I used to worship.

“No fuckin’ way,” Danza says over my shoulder.

I wish I could say time has done her good, but it hasn’t. Her hair is brittle and sticking out wildly. Her face is wrinkled, but not in laugh lines like someone who lived a full life. Her lips have the marks of a woman who has smoked one too many cigarettes. The wrinkles from taking too many drags no longer fade away. And she’s tan to the point of looking leathery.

Her eyes, though … They kill me.

The life is gone; the fight is gone. The woman who pushed so hard for me to choose her is a mess in front of me.

“Tilly …” I begin, wondering what the hell to say next.

“Mom?” I hear a teen voice calling out.

“Stay in your room. I’ll be right there,” Tilly orders back.

“We’re looking for Jayne Wheatley,” Danza says as I try to register why Matilda would be here of all places.

“You two need to go. Any other brothers you have with you need to turn around and hit 95 North and don’t look back.”

“Tilly,” I say her name again.

She shakes her head at me.

“Fuck,” Danza says, running his fingers through his hair crazily.

“I’m sorry, Frisco.”

“Sorry?” I repeat as I try to click the pieces together. “Loving me was part of a play with Watson? You’re Jayne? You set me and my club up?”

She doesn’t answer, but she looks to Danza. “I’m sorry for the time you lost.”

His eyes grow wide.

“I’ll fucking kill her myself,” Danza says as we both start to mentally figure out what she’s talking about.

Instead of continuing to stand on her front porch, I step into the doorway. Instinctively, she moves back as Danza follows me into her space.

“You better talk, and you better do it now if you want Shannon to even make it to tomorrow.” I have never threatened a child before today, but this woman singlehandedly tried to rip me from my Hellions family.

Tears fill her eyes. “I guess it’s time you know the truth.”

“Truth? Do you even know the truth yourself?”

“Frisco, before you think of hurting her, you should know, she’s yours.”

Gripping both her shoulders, I pin her to the wall outside the house. “Bitch, don’t you play games with me. You named her after Paul Shannon Watson. Don’t think saying she’s mine somehow will save her ass or yours.”

“I deserve that and more. Kill me. I don’t care, Frisco, but don’t hurt her. She’s the only thing I have good in my life.” She pauses, and there is a heaviness in the air as my mind races. “I did love you, Richard. I wanted you to choose me, start over away from all of this, just you and me. I didn’t want to be a pawn in Paul’s game anymore. Once I got to know you, I really did care for you.”

I don’t know how to take her words. I don’t know what to think about anything right now. And I don’t have to, because Danza cuts in, his words pulling out my anger once more.

“Why’d you apologize to me? Say it, cunt. Say the words. Tell me how you cost me and my brother three years behind bars. Tell me how you did it, bitch,” Danza says while I try to fight my urge to kill her and go see for myself if I really have a daughter or not.

She blows out a breath. “You deserve to hear me say it. I set you up. The day I kept Frisco home, I had been in touch with authorities. I set you up.”

“You fuckin’ cunt!” Danza roars. Even though he already knew what she would say, it’s hitting him hard. “I lost years with my wife and child because of you! I fucking lost my mind because of wheels you set into motion.”

The sound of Harleys pulling up gets our attention. I release Tilly to move to the hallway to see her daughter for myself before I deal with the members of Fury MC who are sure to be outside.

Pulling out our Glocks for protection, Danza and I proceed to clear out of the doorway and get farther into the house just as shots are fired.

I turn in time to see Tilly take a hit to the chest and fall. She doesn’t scream, doesn’t try to get out of the opening; she just takes what’s coming. And inside, it kills a little piece of me.

“Get the kid,” I say to Danza as I rush over to the woman I once cared for.

She’s bleeding heavily as she takes another bullet to the leg and arm from the entryway. Getting low, I reach out and drag her toward me. Then I extend my arm out and fire wildly into the yard as I settle her head on my lap. The sound of someone cursing can be heard as I see Tilly has blood coming out of her mouth.