The Run (The Hell's Disciples MC Book 4) (24 page)

Parking with extreme caution, I leave the truck at the end of the lot, nowhere near any bikes, and well out of sight. I’d prefer to live through the day. With my luck, I’d back right over a row of bikes if I attempted front row parking.

Walking into to the bar, I spot Rock sitting on a barstool, and Poncho pacing the other end of the room with a phone to his ear, deep in conversation.

“Hey, Rock.”

“Yo, Lennon.” Nodding at the empty seat next to him, I wait for the go ahead to take the seat. “You mind?” Nodding back, he smirks. He thinks I’m funny for asking, but I know better. Sitting down next to him, I prop my elbows up on the bar top and get comfy.

“Where’s Buck,” Rock asks, looking between the door and me. I consider his question for a half a second before a lie slides out easily ... too easily. 

“Out back, looking for a part or something,” I say, waving a dismissive hand towards the door. I know if I tell him I have no clue where Buck is, he’s going to ask how I got here, and well, that conversation will end in him calling Buck. A little white lie never hurt anyone anyways.

I need a phone and to hit the store up before I’m back up the mountain, Buck none the wiser. No harm, no foul.

Rock seems to believe me when he doesn’t push for more, and asks, “How you doin’?” Besides being bored, hungry, and in need of a phone, I’m great.

“I’m good.” Rock doesn’t ask if I want a beer when he barks the order at the prospect behind the bar. It’s probably because he doesn’t assume I’m driving.

“Here ya go,” the prospect says, glancing at me quickly before looking away. Okay then.

A loud bang comes from the end of the bar and we all whip our heads in the direction. Jess is standing down there, glaring in my general direction. If I know one thing for sure. It’s that Jess and I will never be friends. I smile at her, which only seems to deepen her hatred for me.

Prospect touches her arm to get her attention, and then she turns her charm on him. There’s a brief stare off between Jess and the prospect before Rock grunts, “The fuck is wrong with you two? Get the fuck back to work.” Jesus, those two are really fucking weird.

Shaking my head in confusion, I focus on something I understand. “Hey, Rock, can I use the phone real quick?”

“Sure thing. It’s in the back room.”

“Thanks.” Sliding off the stool, I go in search of the phone.

In the tiny stock room behind the bar is where phone hangs. It’s on the wall, right next to the door that leads back out to the floor.

Putting the receiver to my ear, I listen to the dial tone, giving myself a minute to collect my shit. Taking a deep breath, I punch in the same number I’ve called a few thousand times over the past few years. Some things just never change.

It rings a couple of times before it’s picked up. It’s always answered. 

“Yeah?” A raspy, tired, familiar voice answers.

“It’s me,” I say carefully into the phone, my voice flat and neutral.

“Don’t play games with me.” Always so fucking paranoid. I hate making this call. “I know you’re trying to fuck with me.” I wait a beat, listening to the white noise in the background.

“It’s Lennon.”

“Baby?” This call was long overdue, but I definitely could’ve held off longer. Why I keep putting myself through this, I’ll never understand.

“How are you? Are you okay?” I ask, knowing I’ll never get a real answer, but I’m polite, nonetheless.

“Fine. You’ve got money for me, baby.” Right to the point, as always. That wasn’t a question either. I wouldn’t be calling if I didn’t have money. I stopped calling for shits and giggles a long time ago.

“Yeah, I’ve got some money for you. I’ll get it to you as soon as possible. Pay a couple of bills with it, will ya?” Even though I know it’ll go to everything under the sun, except the important things like food and bills. Who needs a roof over their head when they’ve got a pocket full of drugs to keep them warm at night?

“Don’t tell me what to do with it.” And with that, it’s time to end the call.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll send it soon. Love you.”

I hang up before I get an answer in return, knowing damn well there will be no returned words. I just hate being hung up on first. Leaning against the wall, I collect myself for a minute. Not much bothers me, but that call always seems to ruin my day.

Where my life has lacked in consistency in almost everything important, it has never lacked in the need for and wanting of money. Cash is king in my life, always has been, and I suspect it always will be, at least until the bloodsucker dies.

Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. A head full of brown hair is standing the doorway. Jess is watching me with a curled lip.

“Yeah?” I ask, sensing she has something nasty she’s dying to get off her chest.

“Nothin’ bitch.” She snaps, letting the word bitch drag out of her puffy lips before disappearing back around the corner. I wish she’d just say whatever it is she wants to say to me, and just move on already. I have no idea what’s wrong with that girl, but I’m not in the mood to try and dissect the crazy.

“Okey-dokey,” I huff out, more to myself than to her as I walk back out into the bar after her.

Rock’s still warming his stool, staring at a TV. Planting myself next to him, I ask, “So, is this place still a working bar?” With its broken windows, dirt covered floor, and one functioning toilet, the place seems like it’s on it’s last leg. 

“We’ve got our business license.”

“Okay? I’m not sure I’m following you.” So, it is a working bar?

“Means Dan owns this bar. We’re open to the public, but the public doesn’t seem too keen on eating in our fine establishment.” He says, waving a grand hand out towards this fine establishment.

“So it’s a front.” I say outright. Not sure why he’s beating around the bush.

“We’re in good standings with the law.” I change the subject before I cross some sort of invisible line.

“Can I get a burger here then?”

“Burger sounds damn good.” Rock hums, getting off his stool. “Grab the buns and fix ‘em, baby doll. You ‘n me are ‘bout to make us some grub.”

Cheese fries, a burger, and a big glass of cold beer sit in front of me at the bar. I used the phone, and now I’m chatting and eating with Rock while Jess stomps and glares at me while she cleans. It’s been thirty minutes of her crazy eyes and grumbled threats. She really hates me.

Tossing her rag down on the counter, she jerks her purse from under the bar and stomps her high-heeled feet towards us. Fighting with the strap, she stops right in front of us with a sour face. She’s putting on quite a show.

“I’m outta here,” she barks out at Rock, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Yeah, okay.” He shrugs, clearly not interested. He looks right over her shoulder at the TV showing some big game hunting channel in high-def.

“I’ve gotta go pick up the kids.” Jess adds, shooting me a sneaky little brow quirk. Burger mid-bite, I stop and I stare. The Kids?

“Uh huh. Drive safe,” Rock mutters absentmindedly, eating a fry. Without the reaction she was looking for, she sighs and walks off towards the door, leaving the word kids hanging in the air.

Kids? She has kids? 

Twisting in my seat, I look up at Rock and ask him, “You have kids with her?” Which is news to me. The way she said the kids, like they were some sort of secret or special circumstance, makes me think that statement was more for me than Rock.

“No,” he answers, chewing slowly on his fry. Looking at me carefully, I see him weighing his words. Lies. He’s trying to come up with them. Loyal asshole.

Rock’s a pretty big dude. Muscled and mean, I’m sure he’s scrappy, but I swear to God, if he tries to feed me some line of bullshit about non-existent kids, I will punch him off his bar stool. I heard her. That bitch Jess was trying to snare me with that word, and it worked. I’m caught and I want answers.

“No?” I repeat. And then it dawns on me ... Buck ... kids. Jess’s mean stares and glares. Their “special” relationship. Holy fuck. 

“Buck and her have ... kids?” I whisper shout, the words lodging themselves in the back of my throat, practically causing me to choke on them. Kids. The word sounds so foreign. How the hell did I not know this? “They have kids? Together? Buck and Jess?” My stomach does a nosedive right to my ass.

“Didn’t say that.” He answers, watching me. Evasive. True, he didn’t, but he also didn’t say they weren’t either.

“But you didn’t not say it either.” I counter, draining the rest of my beer. Christ.

“True. Jess and Buck, that shit’s complicated. Gotta talk to him about it.” Holy fuck, there is so much I do not know. Buck and that witchy woman have children together. Dammit!

13 - Confessions

Buck

The front door is locked when I try to open it, which isn’t normal. Usually it’s wide open with Lennon somewhere inside, or it’s unlocked and the little hippy is in the woods, frolicking somewhere in the grass. The locked door doesn’t make me fucking happy.

I left the club, ready to get the fuck home and relax. Didn’t expect to find it empty. All thoughts of missing money and a dead brother are pushed aside. Fuck, I’ve gotta find the little hippy.

The house is deserted, the woods are empty, and my truck is missing. That feeling surfaces, the one where shit starts sinking in and it doesn’t feel good. It’s the same feeling I got two years ago―same place, same situation.

Kicking the front door open to the bar, I question the first asshole I see. “You seen Lennon?” Rock swivels in his seat, surprise on his face, like he’s fucking shocked to see me here. I know the fuck stick heard my bike.

“What?” he asks, looking around me like he’s confused as hell. “She was here a little bit ago. Figured she left with you,” he says, motioning towards the empty seat next to him. Clearly, that isn’t the fucking case because I’m in here looking for her.

“Figured wrong. What did she say?”

“Said you were out back gettin’ a part or somethin’. She used the phone, had some food, bullshitted with me ‘n left.” Something seems to dawn on him because his head sags and he starts shaking it slowly.

“She fucked you, brother,” I tell him. She lied to him and he believed her shit.

“She talked to Jess.” He mutters, and it’s all I need to hear.

“Fuck.” She talked to Jess. That bitch has a big fucking mouth. Don’t I pay her to keep that shit closed?

“She mentioned the kids,” Rock adds. Two years later, and she’s still screwing with my goddamn life. Wasn’t everything enough for her? What more does she want from me? My left nut on a silver platter?

“Full story?” I ask him, gauging where Lennon’s head might be. Jess has a way of getting deep inside your head, then fucking with it, and not in a good way. Not the way Lennon’s got in there and messed shit up. No, Jess scrambles that shit up and leaves it a bloody mess of mush.

“No, but Lennon seemed ... weirded out.” No shit. 

“Where’d she go?”

“Not sure, brother.”

Fuck.

Drove around town like a fucking idiot, and I couldn’t find her. Went back up the mountain, wasted some damn gas, hoping she went home, but she wasn’t fucking there. Came back down to the bar and surprise, there she is. Lennon’s leaning against the truck and standing in front of her is Jess, with both the girls at her side.