The Riot (Hell's Disciples MC Book 5) (13 page)

Even asleep, he looks tired and worn out…drained. But he’s still so handsome.

I know he’s pissed, mad as hell that I was hit. Mad that I’m even here. Mad that my face looks like it met a cheese grater, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

Touching my face, I feel the slight sting in my cheek. My bruises are worse than my injuries. There’s a small cut on my forehead, and a few bruises on my face and neck. Everything else is superficial, but I know that doesn’t mean a damn thing to Rocky. Any damage is too much.

It only took twenty minutes from the moment my tires left the gravel lot to arrive at the hospital, but it sure as hell felt longer. I’m tired, feeling like I ran a marathon.

Shuffling to the bed, I hug the hospital gown closer to me, cold from the gaping back. Such an unflattering piece of material.

Sitting down, careful not to wake Rock, I think about the car. One minute I was driving, and the next there was broken glass and crunching metal all around me. I didn’t see it coming. Not a chance to react.

A hit and run, Rocky told me. He sounded skeptical, but let it go when the officers didn’t have much else to offer. I know Rock, and I know he’s not happy with the answers. I know he won’t let it go.

Sighing, I slump my shoulders.

A touch to my side lets me know Rock’s very much awake and looking for me.

“I’m right here,” I tell him, leaning back against him.

“I know.” His voice is gruff and warm.

“You know?”

“Yeah, I know. I know because you’re never gonna be out of my goddamn sight again.”

I’d argue with him, but I know Rock means every word he says. I’m never leaving his sight again, which has nothing to do with, and everything to do with me and what I want. I want him with me.

***

“Don’t fucking do that.” Rock scowls at me.

“Do what? Walk?” Now I’m not allowed to walk. Go figure.

“No, you little shithead. Cart around heavy shit.”

Dropping the box in the middle of the floor, I walk off, leaving it there.

I can’t do it. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m losing my mind.

It’s been four days, and everywhere I go, there’s Rock. I used to miss him, but now, I miss my freedom and personal space.

Time spent with Rock isn’t the problem. It’s the constant telling me what to do, how to do it, and where to do it. If I go outside, I might die. I might perish if I go to the store. If I pick up a box, I might keel over and die. I could croak if I breathe wrong. The man has lost his mind.

The only thing wrong with me now is him. My sore muscles have healed, and my cuts are starting to scab. I might still have bruises, but that’s about it.

“Rock, I have bruises, not a busted hip.”

“Don’t make a fuck of difference to me.” He walks farther into the room and scoops up the box. He hauls it to the counter and plops it down loudly.

“It should. My bruises didn’t keep you from fucking me last night.”

“Your pussy ain’t bruised,” he says with a smirk, clearly finding himself hilarious. “Well, maybe after last night it is.”

“You’re a pig.”

“True, but I’m your pig.”

Being waited on hand and foot, a girl could get used to this, but the bossing and the pushing, not so much. I guess I have no choice but to take the good with the bad, right?

Sprawling out on the couch, I stuff my face with veggie pizza as I watch movies, letting Rock stress and worry over me.

Someone knocks on the door, but I don’t get up for fear that Rock will wrap me in bubble wrap and stuff me in a closet for safekeeping. Instead I holler, “It’s open!”

The door opens and Sam, Lennon, Buck, and T walk inside.

“How you feeling?” Lennon asks, coming to sit next to me on the couch.

“Sick,” I tell her as Sam steals a slice of pizza, taking a man-sized bite.

“Oh shit. How come?”

“Because Rock is disgusting.” Sam damn near chokes, and Lennon laughs. “And a pain in the ass.”

“Milkin’ it, aren’t ya,” T asks, reaching for my pizza. Slapping his hand away, I glare. Milking it? Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing.

“Shut up,” I tell T, holding the pizza out of his reach. “Be nice, or I won’t share.”

“Yeah, yeah. So sorry, princess.”

Sprawled out on Rocks giant bed, Lennon, Sam, and me watch
Never Die Alone
, while eating candy and ice cream. The guys disappeared down to Tink’s shop about two hours ago to guy around and do whatever it is guys do. I’m sure it’s shit like talking about boobs, beer, and bikes. That’s all these men ever talk about.

“So, how you really doing?” Sam asks, genuine concern on her pretty face.

“I’m fine. Sad as shit my car is DOA, but good otherwise.”

“That was pretty scary. Do you really think it was a hit and run?”

“Who knows. Rock sure as shit doesn’t think so.”

“Crazy.” Sam shakes her head. “But you know Rock will dig until he figures out who did it.”

“True.”

The thud of footsteps on the stairs turns our heads. The guys come in, but they don’t look like they’re having a good evening.

“What’s up?”

“Got shit to handle, babe,” Rock growls, walking up to me on the bed. Putting his knee on the mattress, he leans in and plants a hard kiss on my lips. “I gotta go. Stay here, and call me if you need me.”

“Yeah, okay. We’ll just stay here and watch movies.”

Rock nods and heads for the door. Buck gives Lennon a quick kiss before he’s right behind Rock. “I’ll come pick you up when I’m done,” he tells her before he’s through the door with T and Rock.

“Fucking club business,” Sam mutters, shaking her head.

Lennon smiles and shrugs. “Oh well. More girl time.”

“Yep. More girl time.”

Loyalty & Lies

Rock

Things have fallen straight to fucking shit. I thought it was bad before, but I was dead wrong.

“Here’s how this shit’s gonna go,” Dan announces, standing at the head of the table. “You see a Raider, a Ryder, or any other asshole on a bike not wearin’ a Disciple cut around this town, take ‘em out. I don’t give a fuck if it’s in front of the President of the United States. You bleed ‘em out right then ‘n there. We round the rest of ‘em up ‘n we end this shit.”

Poncho was shot at last night. Three miles from the club, someone in a blacked out SUV with stolen plates pulled up next to him and popped off a few rounds at him. It’s lucky he’s good at ducking and dodging bullets because he made it out with only a hole in his leg. It laid his bike down, and the thing looks like a piece of Swiss fucking cheese.

He’s milking it now, hobbling around and bitching. He’ll live, unless I kill him myself.

“How we gonna round ‘em up?” Rampage asks, taking a pull from his beer.

Everyone’s bristling, mad as hell. It’s like a goddamn feeding frenzy in here. Everyone is chomping at the bit to get to the Raiders and Ryders. No one likes war. A little bit of conflict keeps us on our toes and on our game, but this shit is taking it too far.

“Ellison,” Dan growls, standing up. His chair goes sliding against the floor as he leans into the table, looking at me. Snuffing out his cigar on the table, he adds, “We need her.”

“Ellison?”

“Yep.”

Fuck.

***

I try to shield her as best I can, but it doesn’t always work. Dan brought her into room one with us. You know shit’s serious when he pulls someone into church.

“You’re gonna call your brother,” Dan says, looking at El. She’s sitting in his chair at the head of the table, as he stands off to the side next to her, his hand resting on the back the chair while she looks around, confused. Every fucker in here’s staring at her, waiting for her to cry or have a damn meltdown.

“I am?” she asks cautiously, cocking her head to the side.

“You are. Call him. Tell him Rock’s lost it, been smackin’ you around. You need help gettin’ away from him. Use your bruises.”

Jesus.

El looks at me for confirmation, so I nod. I give her a a fake smile, hoping like hell she believes it. This is the second time I’ve heard Dan’s plan, and I’m liking it even less the second time around.

“He’s gonna want somethin’ from ya for his help, so we want ya to offer up Rock,” Mossy informs her. The second the shit leaves Mossy’s mouth, El is up and out of her seat. Her head is shaking vehemently, a mess of blonde hair dancing around her shoulders in protest.

“N-
No
,” she sputters. Looking at Dan, she adds, “I can’t do that to Rock.” All I can see is the horror in her beautiful gray eyes.

Her loyalty hits me square in the gut, and the regret starts churning.

“You can ‘n you
will
,” Dan assures her gruffly, leaving little room to argue. “Tell him where the guys’ll be in exchange for their help gettin’ you outta here. Use your knowledge about the club to convince him. Sell it.”

I’m not fond of the plan, but my say doesn’t mean shit. According to Dan, this plan is for the greater good. I can’t disagree there, but it still doesn’t make this any easier on me. I don’t enjoy dragging El into this shit with us.

El blinks, looking between the guys and me, trying to find an out. Her eyes are huge, and her lush lips are hanging open.

“You want my help to give you all up?” she finally asks, looking at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind. There’s complete shock shining in her eyes as she stares, begging me to tell her this is all some sorta fucked up joke.

I wish it were. 

“Yeah.” I guess we do need her. Not that I’ve got much of a choice. Do I think Dan would do anything to intentionally hurt her? No. Do I think shit has a high probability of going to hell real quick? Fuck yes. Nothing is guaranteed, and Ellison’s life is not something I want to gamble with.

“What happens when they find Rocky? When they find everyone?” El whispers, scared to hear Dan’s answers.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got that shit covered.”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re gonna do it.”

El sighs and her head sags. She knows she has to do what Dan’s telling her to do.

What she doesn’t know is that she’s going to be lying to her brother, and not just about the bruises and the help she’s seeking. She’ll be luring him and his guys to a preplanned spot to spin her tall tale, and that’s where we’ll get ‘em, with Ellison in the goddamn middle of it all.

***

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Rocky.”

At the foot of the bed, looking out the big window across the room, I watch the snow change to rain, thinking the same damn thing she’s saying. Leaning back on my elbows, I nod along with El and all the shit she’s gotta say. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this plan.”

“I agree with you.” Something that doesn’t happen a whole hell of a lot.

“But you don’t…wait…you agree with me?” El’s head pops out from the bathroom, a toothbrush in her hand.

Her hair’s knotted up on top of her head. She’s wearing an old, tiny pair of shorts, and a beater. She looks beautiful—crazy fucking beautiful.

She’s been here with me a week now, and it feels good. It feels right, like this is where she should’ve been all this time.

I like having her here, with me.

“Yeah, babe. I agree with you.” It sounds fucking strange to say it, but it’s the truth.

“Wow.”

“But just because I agree with you, doesn’t mean it’s not happenin’.”

“So you don’t think it’ll blow up in our faces?”

“It might, but I trust my Pres. He thinks it’ll work, so
I think it’ll work.”

“Blind loyalty.”

Blind loyalty. It’s a fifty-fifty shot. I don’t always agree with Dan, and we sure the fuck don’t see eye to eye on a lot of shit, but I’d follow him to hell and back, just like he would me. For this club to work, we have to trust one another, blind or not. I’m pretty fucking sure we’ll fail, certain he’s wrong, but I follow, because that’s trust.

I trust El, just like she trusts me. I don’t agree with most of the shit she does, and yet I fucking trust her. I know she thinks the things I do are insane, but here she is, still putting her trust in me.

Walking back into the room a minute later, she crawls on the bed and right into my arms. “Things will work out,” I tell her, having to believe it. Things might all go to hell in the beginning, but they usually work out in the end. They have to. It’s going to be her and me through all this bad shit. That was always her plan.

Laying her head on my chest, she asks, “You think?”

“I know.”

“Promise?” Her and her promises. I don’t have the heart to tell her promises usually don’t mean shit. I can try like hell to keep them, but I
can’t promise they won’t get broken. Things just don’t always work out the way we want, promises included.

So like I’ve been doing for fucking years, I tell her, “Yeah. I promise, babe.”

“Okay.”

“Tomorrow
we
make that call.” I might not be doing the calling, but I’ll be right there with her.

Settling in, she curls in closer, throwing a leg over my lap. Grabbing the side of my shirt, she wraps her hands up in it and sticks her cold ass hands on my stomach. “Fuck, your hands are cold.” She laughs, shoving her ice-cold fingers into my ribs. “Fucking brat.”

She lives to torture me, and I live to let her.

Ellison

Nerves make my heart beat like a hammer against my chest. Being the clutz that I am, I’ve dropped the phone in my lap twice from shaking so much. It doesn’t help that Rock, Dan, Buck, Tank, and a guy named Spike are staring at me like I’m about to perform an impossible trick.

I didn’t bother getting dressed. It feels slightly like my execution. Wearing what I fell asleep in, I sit in room one, not giving a fuck that I look like a hot mess. They needed me, so here I am.

“There’s a good chance he won’t even answer the damn phone,” I mutter. Looking down at the little black burner phone in my hand, I say a prayer, hoping like hell Michael doesn’t answer the phone. I hope he’s fled the fucking country, changed his name, and had a face transplant.

Dan chuckles, shaking his head like I’m ridiculous. “We’ll never know if you don’t call, will we.” Smartass.

My finger hovers over the send button, his number scrawled across the screen. Looking up at Rock one last time, I wait for him to stop me, knowing damn well that it’s not gonna happen. I’m just not that lucky.

In my heart of hearts, I know Rock and his club would never intentionally hurt me or put me in immediate danger, but something about their plain doesn’t sit well with me. It’s not because they need me in the mix, but because my gut is screaming in protest. Something feels off.

“El, look at me,” Rock demands. I do. He smiles sweetly, a single dimpled smile. “You trust me?”

“Eh.” I shrug, making a lame attempt at lightening the mood. His eyes narrow slightly. “Fine…I do. You know I do,” I concede.

“Then shit’ll be all good, baby doll. Make the call.”

My finger lands on send, and I put the phone to my ear, listening to the familiar ring. It’s something that’s usually so normal, yet today feels so major.

The phone rings four times before he answers. “Yeah?” Michael’s voice crackles over the phone, the connection weak.

“Michael?”

There’s static and then, “Ellison?”

I pause, swallowing back the lump forming in the back of my throat. I’m also having a hell of a time spitting the words out. I’m no stranger to white lies and fibbed truths, but this one feels so wrong, so much like a lie. It feels like a betrayal.

Rock meets my eyes and nods me on. Nodding back, I turn away. Spinning on the stool, I face away from the man who holds my heart in his dirty hands. I don’t want see Rock’s face when I drag him through the mud.

“I need your help, Michael.”

“Why?” He barks, sounding oddly satisfied.

“You were right. Rock’s lost it. I need to get out of here.”

***

My fist connects with meat. My knuckles sink into the cold, pliable heap in the metal bowl on the small counter.

“You’re gonna give yourself a fuckin’ aneurism.” Rock’s deep gravelly voice breaks the silence.

“What?” Stopping mid punch, I look over my shoulder. Rock’s standing in the small kitchen, watching me with unreadable eyes.

I ran off the moment the phone call ended. Needing an outlet, I found myself in the kitchen. Not that I can cook or anything, but anything to keep my mind occupied.

“You’re stressin’ ‘n cookin’,” He says, laughing.

“I am not.” I so am.

In the bars little kitchen, I beat the shit out of a bowl of ground hamburger meat that’s intended for burgers. I hate feeling this way, like I shit on Rock and the twenty years of friendship we have between us. I feel dirty. I feel like a traitor.

“You gonna talk about it?” Rock asks, coming to stand next to me. Leaning into the counter, he crosses his arms across is his chest. His presence is always overwhelming and larger than life.

“No.” Shaking in a few dashes of salt, I frown. “I’m not.”

I wanna call my brother and tell him to forget it, that I lied. I fucked up. Lord knows Dan and the guys won’t let that happen though. Once these men set their minds on something, they follow through, wrong or right.

“Come on, baby. Let me hear it,” Rock coaxes me, pulling my hand away from the bowl.

“No.”

“Too fuckin’ bad.” Hands at my waist, he lifts me and sets me on the counter, next to my bowl of beaten meat. Tossing me a towel, he states, “You’re gonna tell me.”

“I don’t want to do this,” I huff. I don’t have to go into detail. He knows what I’m talking about.

“I can tell. But, we need you.
I
need you.”

He can’t do this to me. He can’t tell me he needs me because then I have no choice, none. Rock knows there isn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do for him. “That’s blackmail.” It’s not fair.

“No, babe, that’s real talk. We’re hobblin’ along here. You’re our last leg.”

“Can’t you just…I don’t know, call a big meeting? Talk it out. I mean, what is this shit even about?” Or can’t he just blow them up or something and not involve me.

His dark eyes soften, a small smile touches the corners of his lips. “You know goddamn well I can’t tell you.” Of course he can’t. Stepping into me, he bulldozes his way between my thighs. “It’s for your health, babe.” Drawing a hand up my back, he wraps my hair around his hand and tips my head back to look at him. “Your safety.”

“You think I’ll be
safe
dealin’ with my brother?” I ask, cuddling into him. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I hang like a stage five clinger.