Destroying Beauty (Hell Hounds Motorcycle Club): Vegas Titans Series (3 page)

Brette starts massaging my balls with one hand and trailing
her mouth on my dick with the other. I feel a rush of warmth to my crotch and
clench my teeth.

"Holt!" I hear a banging on the door. Brette
pauses.

"Keep going," I tell her, and she resumes.
"Hang the fuck on!" I yell to the shithead interrupting me.

I groan as I come in Brette's mouth, and open my eyes to
watch her licking her lips. She kisses my tip softly before rising and I stand
up after her, grabbing my pants and pulling them on.

"What?" I ask, pulling the door open. Dip, one of
the prospects, stands outside, arms crossed. His eyes widen at the sight of
Brette's sizable breasts behind me.

"Um, sorry. Emergency meeting in the cave right now.
Bark called it," he replies nervously. I nod and he walks away. I turn
back into the room and quickly take off my cut to slip my t-shirt back on and
then pull the cut back on over it.

"No cuddling?" Brette says jokingly, putting her
hand on her hip.

"Sorry, babe," I say with a grin, pulling on my
boots. Bark is the president of Hell Hounds MC, so if he calls a meeting, you
better fucking hurry.

I close the door behind me to give Brette some privacy as I
walk down the hallway and down the stairs. The bar is sparsely filled now with
just some prospects, who aren't privy to all club business yet, and some sweet
butts and other hangers-on. I walk to the back of the room and down another set
of steps, these much more dimly lit.

The metal door of the cave is slightly open, and as I step
in I see that I'm the last brother to arrive. The cave is so called because it
feels like one, the walls slightly curved as though the space has been carved
out of the rock below the clubhouse. A fluorescent light hangs above the table
and the back wall is covered in TV monitors that show the lounge, every
entrance to the clubhouse, and the street outside. I shut the door behind me
and take my seat at the table to Bark's right.

Fish sits across from me, tapping his thumb on the edge of
the table. I narrow my eyes as I examine his face. He looks even more strung
out than usual.

"You fucking tell it," Bark growls to Fish. I
glance between them. Bark looks furious. Fish leans forward.

"Ran into one of the brothers from the Death
Dealers," he begins. Shit. We've had a fragile truce with the Death
Dealers for a few months now. They're based a couple hundred miles away, and we
agreed on new territories to end the war between us. No news about them is good
news. But of course it would be Fish to bring news. "So we got into it,
you know, he fucking insulted our brotherhood, he—"

"Fish shot him, plus the clerk. At a gas station in
Eatonville," Bark breaks in, cutting to the chase.

"He was in our fucking territory and he attacked me
first! I was defending myself!" Fish yells out as everyone begins to talk
at once. Shit. Shit, this isn't good. Fucking psychopath. He's a good asset for
the Hell Hounds at times, I can't deny it. Always willing to step up and do the
dirty work. Problem is when there isn't any dirty work to be done, he creates
it. Sometimes violence is necessary, and I don't shy away from using it when I
have to, but Fish is the kind of guy who goes looking for it. Sometimes I
wonder if it gives him a sick thrill.

"Shut the fuck up!" Bark yells, and the brothers
quiet.

"No one saw me. No witnesses. They won't be able to tie
it back to us," he says. I stare at his Adam's Apple as it bobs up and
down with his throat tic. It's his only giveaway, the only sign that he feels
any kind of normal human anxiety. On anyone else it wouldn't bother me, but on
him, that clicking sound is like nails on a fucking chalkboard.

"When was this?" I ask, making myself focus on his
eyes.

"No more than an hour ago," Fish answers shortly.

"Rich knows," Bark adds. "Said he'll do his
best to pull the investigation away from us." I nod. Rich is our contact
on the force. He's a reliable guy, though the amount of violence between us and
the Dealers has made him much more wary of working with us than he used to be.

"See? It's gonna be fine," Fish says. "And I
took the money from the register to make it look like a robbery." I wanna
punch that bug-eyed shit in the mouth. He jeopardizes this deal and has the
balls to sit here and act like he didn't fuck up?

"Tapes?" I growl.

"I said it's taken care of," Fish replies, staring
me down. He's no fan of mine either. I'm one of the few brothers who won't back
down from him. My brothers are the toughest guys I know, but even they're
scared of Fish. He's too unpredictable. Plus, Bark has started to listen to me
more than him. Drives him crazy.

"You said you were just defending yourself, so let's
see the proof," I say calmly. "Hell, if the Death Dealers are really coming
into our territory and going after our brothers, maybe we need to rethink this
truce."

"You accusing me of being a liar?" Fish says, his
eyes cold and defiant.

"Do you have the tapes or not?" Bark interjects.
Fish pauses, his eyes flashing angrily, then reaches underneath his seat and
pulls out a DVD and places it on the table.

"Pitt." Bark nods to him sitting at the far end of
the table. Pitt stands up and walks toward the head of the table, picking up
the DVD as he goes. He's our resident techie—I can't understand that shit for
the life of me. He slips it into one of the players at the base of the screens
and picks up a remote. One of the screens changes from a view of the lounge to
grainy footage of the inside of a gas station shop.

"You said an hour ago?" Pitt asks.

"Yeah, maybe an hour ten," Fish replies. His voice
sounds tense and his throat clicks again. I'd bet a million bucks he started
the fight. Some of the brothers at the other end of the table stand up and walk
forward to get a better view of the monitor as Pitt watches the time signature
in the corner of the screen, rewinding through the last hour.

Abruptly, the video stops as Pitt presses a button on the
remote. The room quiets as we watch Angel Medina, a Death Dealers MC brother,
walk into the store. At the bottom of the screen, the clerk leans forward for a
second, into frame, then disappears again. The camera just captures the counter
in front of him. A minute later, Fish enters. Everyone leans in. There's no
sound, and the video quality is poor, so it's tough to even see if someone's
mouth is moving. Suddenly, Fish lunges at Angel. Bark's head snaps toward Fish.

"You couldn't hear what he was saying!" Fish cries
defensively.

"I don't give a fuck what he said," Bark growls.

"Wait, what was that?" I ask, getting out of my
seat and walking toward the monitor. Could've sworn I just saw movement at the
back of the store. "Where's the clerk at this point?"

"Behind the counter," Fish replies. I put my
finger on the corner of the monitor, where an aisle in the store ends.

"Something just moved here," I say. Fish snorts in
disbelief. On the rest of the screen, we watch as Fish and Angel separates and
Fish pulls his gun on Angel and the clerk. Angel falls first, then Fish points
his gun at the clerk, who falls off camera. Then Fish makes a call and walks
behind the counter to grab the tape and the money and the footage ends.
"Wait, just go back to a few minutes before Angel enters."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Fish swears. "I
checked the place before I left."

"Humor me," I say flatly, nodding to Pitt. He
acquiesces, raising the remote and rewinding a few minutes.

"Stop," I say. The monitor shows an empty store
for a moment, then a woman with light hair walks in. She walks to the back of
the store and disappears in the spot where I saw movement. Then Angel walks in.
"She never fucking left. That woman was in there the whole time."

Every brother in the room turns to stare at Fish. His face
turns red with anger.

"I'll take care of it," he whispers.

"Fuck," Bark murmurs, rubbing his face. The
brothers return to their seats in silence. An already bad problem just got a
lot more complicated.

"I'll take care of it," Fish repeats, a little louder.

"You have already caused enough problems tonight,"
Bark hisses at him, then turns to the rest of the table. "I haven't heard
anything from Rich about a witness yet. A seventy year-old man was the one who
called the cops when he went to the store for some milk. That was half an hour
ago."

"So maybe she's not going to the cops. Scared,
probably," Wilkes pipes up from down the table. He's a consistent voice of
reason in the club.

"You say Rich's name over the phone?" Bark asks
Fish, his eyes narrowing.

"No, definitely not…but I think I might've mentioned
his being a cop."

"See?" Wilkes says triumphantly.

"Or maybe she's just giving it a night and waiting to
go in the morning," Fingers replies in frustration. "What are we
supposed to do about it, anyway?"

"There's something on her shirt," Pitt says. He's
staring at the screen, then presses a button on the remote that makes the video
go in slow motion. Every head turns to the monitor. The woman is just walking
through the front door. Pitt pauses it as it looks like she turns to say
something to the clerk. He walks up until his nose is an inch from the glass.
"Billy's…Billy's Bar and Grill," he reads.

"I know that place," Wilkes says. "It's a
local chain. Sort of like Chili's or something, but worse."

"There one in Eatonville?" I ask.

"Think so," he replies.

"So maybe she works there," Bark says.

"I'll go there. Stake it out until I find her,"
Fish says.

"And then what? Kill her too?" I ask him. "We
don't even know if she can ID you."

"Better safe than sorry," Fish answers, a cold
smile spreading across his face.

"The last thing I want to do is attract more attention
to ourselves by killing some innocent woman. We've already got enough on our
plate. We need to handle this quietly," Bark says decisively. "First
we gotta find out what she knows, what she's planning on doing. Holt, you go.
Just talk her up, see what you can find out."

"What makes you think she's gonna tell me
anything?"

"I've seen women drop their panties at the sight of
you, you fucking motherfucker. Just show her your dick!" Fingers yells
from the other side of the room. Laughter breaks out.

"Maybe with a little more subtlety, but do what you
have to do. Win her trust," Bark says grimly.

"And if she does know something? You really think he's
got the stones to finish the job?" Fish sneers to Bark.

The room quiets. I lean forward across the table. No one
questions my readiness to act on behalf of the club.

"She knows something, I kill her myself," I reply.

Chapter Three

Jo

My body feels like a stiff board. I roll my ankles under the
sheets, willing myself to get out of bed, but the world got a whole lot scarier
last night. I just want to stay here, under my covers, and not move. At least I
didn't dream. When I finally began to fall asleep, I kept starting awake
because I was worried I would have nightmares, but I didn't. Maybe nothing
could have been scarier than what I saw when I was awake.

I glance at my clock. Almost two. I have to be at work in an
hour. I sit up and walk naked into the bathroom. God, my hair looks like a
rat's nest. I have to try to seem normal at work today. I pick up a brush and
start working my way through the knots. I end up with waves that someone might mistake
for being purposeful, and swipe on some makeup. I walk to my small closet and
grab my black skirt and non-slip shoes for working behind the bar. I frown as I
pull on my bra and underwear. What'd I do with my work shirt?

Shit. I walk into the living room and look at the front
door. The black trash bag is still sitting there, tied up with my clothes from
last night in it. A shiver runs through me. No way I'm taking that shirt out of
there. I'll have to get a new one at Billy's today, even though it'll come out
of my paycheck.

I pull on my skirt and a black tank top for now, then grab
my purse. I stare down at the trash bag and reluctantly pick it up. Maybe it's
silly to throw it out. It's not like there's actually anything wrong with the
clothes now, but I know that every time I look at them I'd think of last night.
I toss it over my shoulder and lock the door behind me.

I walk behind the building and toss the bag into the
dumpster, then head into the parking lot. My Corolla, which was my one
concession in the divorce, is sitting out front. I slide in and take a deep
breath. For the first time in a long while, I miss Steve. It would just be nice
to have someone warm and familiar to curl myself around right now. I start the
car, forcing myself to keep going.

I glance nervously to the right as I pull out. The gas
station has yellow tape marking it off, and there are two cop cars out front. I
should have watched the news this morning, I realize.