Destroying Beauty (Hell Hounds Motorcycle Club): Vegas Titans Series (18 page)

"Calm down. I just want to talk to you for a
minute," he says, and emits a strange sound from his throat. A bolt of
fear runs through me, though it takes a second for my brain to catch up with
what my senses know to be true. "What? What is it?" His large eyes
narrow into slits and he examines my expression. I watch his throat move
slightly as two more clicking noise emanate from it.

Now I know where I recognize that sound from.

I fight to keep my fear at bay. My knees wobble and I gasp
in a breath of air. "Let go," I say, jerking my hand away from him,
but he holds on, his lips twisting into a smile. "You're hurting me."

"Why do you want to get back inside so badly?"

"I just want to get back to Holt. He's probably worried
about me." I can feel myself begin to sweat. He makes another clicking
noise and I twitch involuntarily.

"You did see something. What?" he spits at me.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Please let go
of me," I beg, my flesh beginning to crawl where this cold-blooded killer
has his hand on me.

"You and I are taking a walk," he says grimly,
pulling me toward the other side of the lot.

I dig my heels into the ground and as I let out a
full-blooded scream. I'm not going anywhere with this psychopath.

Chapter Twenty

Holt

"Chill! Chill!" I yell into Crank's ear as he
struggles to get out of my headlock.

"Let me go!" he screams back, jerking his head
around desperately. "Where'd Fish go? That motherfucker!"

"What? What about Fish?" I almost slacken my grip
out of surprise. "What's he got to do with this?"

"That motherfucker started this! Fucking threw a bottle
out of nowhere, cut my old lady's face. Blamed Fingers, but I saw him
myself."

"Fuck. Fuck!" I swear as I drop my arms and
release Crank. I barrel my way through the rest of the group, pushing toward
the tree where I left Jo. She's gone. I circle around, my eyes darting
everywhere as I search for her. "Jo! Jo!" I yell. She's not out here.
I run toward the back door and the music and sweat from inside hits me full
blast. "Jo! You seen Jo?" I cry frantically as I push my way around.
"Wilkes! You seen Jo anywhere?" I ask him as I spot him and Cara
against the bar.

"No…what's going on?" he says, frowning at me.

"Can't find her…think it's Fish." My head snaps
toward the front door. "You hear that? Thought I just heard a
scream."

"I didn't hear anything."

"Wait…there…" Just above the music, I heard it
again. I bolt for the front door and hear Wilkes and Cara following after me.

I feel an explosion of adrenaline as I burst outside. Fish
has his hands on Jo and she's doing her best to fight back as he drags her
toward the street.

"FISH!" I roar as I charge toward them. He lets go
of her and she stumbles back. He crouches down into a fighting stance as I rush
him. He's no match for me and I slam him onto the pavement in a tackle. I get
two solid punches in before I feel Wilkes trying to pull me off. I try to throw
him but he gets me up just enough to give Fish room to wiggle away. He stands
up and I heave Wilkes off of me. "Fight me, you fucking coward!" I
scream at Fish, but he just smiles and runs toward the front door. He knows he
could never beat me in an actual fair fight.

I stare after him for a moment, hearing the silence fall
around me. I slowly turn around and my heart drops at the expression on Jo's
face.

She's staring at me in horror, her hair disheveled, her
blouse torn across her stomach. I move to take a step toward her and she
flinches and backs away. My Jo.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you…" I whisper.

"What's going on?" I hear Cara ask Wilkes behind
me.

"You…" Jo begins, then trails off. "The whole
time. That's why you were at Billy's?"

I nod.

"Were you just…why didn't you just kill me? Why all of
the rest of this…just to fuck with me?" her voices rises into hysteria.

"No. I…I was sent to find out what you knew. If you
were going to tell the cops. The rest… I mean, at first, it was…" I
struggle to continue. I can see every word hitting her as though it's a
physical blow. "At first it was just to get close to you. To gain your
trust. But it's real now. What's between us is real. Everything else you know
about me is the truth."

She begins to laugh, an unnatural sound that's nothing like
the one I've come to know.

"And what…" she gasps for air. "What if I had
known something? What then?" she challenges me, her voice beginning to be
tinged with an edge of anger. "You would have killed me?" I don't
answer. "My god…"

I step toward her as she looks around herself, into the air,
as if she's trying to figure out where she is.

"Jo, please. I love you. I want you to be my old lady.
We can, we will figure out the rest," I tentatively take her hand. "I
can't live without you. We'll find a way."

Her eyes snap up to mine as she yanks her hand away.
"Fuck you," she says softly. "Fuck you!" She shoves me hard
in the chest, rocking me back on my heels, and then hits me again and again in
the torso as she begins to sob. I keep my arms at my sides, letting her do what
she wants. I deserve all of it, and more. She finally collapses against me, her
forearms resting on my chest. I begin to reach up my arms behind her, wanting
to hug her, to comfort her, but she pushes off me and backs away again.
"Stay away from me. I never want to see you again."

"What the fuck's going on out here?" I hear Bark's
voice and music from the party leak outside as he opens the front door.

"I'm handling it!" I turn around to yell at him.
My eyes flick over to Wilkes, who has his arm wrapped protectively around
Cara's shoulders.

When I turn back to Jo, she's gone.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jo

It was stupid to come back here
, I realize as my eyes
dart frantically around my apartment. I can practically feel the walls closing
in on me. What if Holt put a camera in here, or a bug? Maybe they're watching
me right now. Maybe that's why he would sleep over here: to set up
surveillance.

A sob escapes my lips. I turn to double check the locks and
lean against the door to catch my breath. I ran away from the clubhouse as soon
as they turned their backs. I found a bar nearby and called a cab to pick me up
there. I should have gone to Elise's... No. A motel. Somewhere where I wouldn't
put anyone else in danger.

I struggle to focus on that fact: that I'm in danger. The
massiveness of Holt's betrayal has rocked me to the core. I still can't understand
it, can't wrap my mind around the sheer scale of it. The whole time I knew him,
he was just watching me for his club. Prepared to kill me if he had to. Our
"connection"? Manufactured. He could be anyone. He could have been
sleeping with someone else the whole time we were together. Laughing about my
gullibility.

God, I was blind. How could I not have thought about the
timing? Holt came into Billy's just the day after the shooting. The tape, where
I was wearing my shirt. They must have watched it and sent him in to pick me
up, and I fell for it. Hell, I actually asked to go back to his place. He must
have thought the whole thing was too easy. That
I
was too easy.

It's almost too painful to admit to myself now: I loved him.
I love him. I can't turn it off that right away, though I'll try to grind it
out of myself as quickly as possible. I had allowed myself to imagine a life
with him, what our home would be like, even children.

Anger flashes through my brain, clearing my thinking for a
moment. I have to make sure I'm safe. Now that they know I can positively
identify Fish as the murderer, and implicate the rest of the club in covering
up the crime, they'll come after me. That was the whole point of Holt's
mission, and he accomplished it. 

I walk around to every window and check to make sure they're
closed and locked. I'm on the 4
^th
floor, so I don't think anyone
could come in through a window anyway, but I wouldn't put anything past these
guys at this point. The front door is my biggest concern now. You have to buzz
to get in, but it would certainly be easy enough for a determined person to
either wait for someone to hold the door for them, or pretend to be a delivery
man and buzz to leave a package. Then all the protection I would have is my own,
rather thin, apartment door.

It would be a big risk for them to just come in here and
make all the noise to bust it down. I mean, it's not the best building in the
world, but one of my neighbors would surely hear that and call the cops. I'll
make it even harder for them, just in case. I take my one kitchen chair and jam
it up underneath the knob, then push my couch up behind it and pile it with
knick-knacks from my shelves. Now it'll be harder to break down and much
noisier. OK, OK…now I can take a breath.

I back up into the armchair and kick off my heels, pulling
my feet up under me as I stare at the door. My phone rings again in my purse
where I tossed it on the floor. It's been ringing ever since I ran, and I know that
it's Holt. I get up, turn off the ringer, and return to the chair. The noise
was distracting me and I need to think.

I can't do anything tonight, but what is my next move? I
want them to pay. All of them. They all knew what was going on—I can see that
now. Though I wish I could somehow get my vengeance myself, I know that I need
to report them to the authorities. And that's where it gets sticky again.

They've definitely got at least one cop working for them—the
one Fish called. But there could be more. There is one person I could
ask…Grant, Elise's new boyfriend. I mean, an accountant wouldn't be corrupt,
but he might be able to tell me who to talk to, maybe even get me in with
someone really high up right away. And I won't go to the precinct. I'll meet
Grant somewhere public and then the cops somewhere public so nothing shady can
go down.

I'll get his number from Elise and call him tomorrow.
There's nothing else to do right now, but I'm not even close to being able to
sleep. Normally I might turn the TV on, but I want to be able to hear if someone
is coming down the hallway. I walk to my kitchen and pull a butcher knife out
of the wooden block on my countertop. I catch a glimpse of my mascara-blackened
cheeks in the reflection on its blade and think I might just feel crazy enough
to use it.

It was a night just like this, about a month ago, when it
all started. When I decided to have a quiet night and went to the gas station
for something to eat. I remember I was actually feeling bored that night. Maybe
my restlessness was like a beacon, drawing all of this craziness to me.

I sit back down in the chair and place the knife on the
coffee table in front of me, within easy reach. Now's not the time for
philosophizing. I just have to wait.