Misled (7 page)

Boss got right in his face. “You fuckin’ sure ‘bout that, motherfucker. Cuz, maybe, I should fuckin’ kill you and then any bitch I want.”

Snake, Rack, Val, Mortician, and Digger were silent, shifting in their seats, swallowing, sweating. Praying. Outlaw should’ve known Boss was up to this shit when he’d given Sinner, Tex, and Guardian orders to make a run, then called the rest of them to church.

“You fuckin’ hear me, motherfucker? Now, you go get that bitch, so we can fuck her and then bury her.”

Outlaw swallowed, his hands flexing to keep from reaching for his piece. He could deny, as much as he wanted,
Boss would never hurt him, but Outlaw knew better. After seeing Boss’s destruction over the past months, he knew Boss stood a hair’s breadth from putting him to ground.

“Sorry, Prez. I ain’t mean to tell you what to do
. Killin’ girls ain’t us.”
It’s not you
, Outlaw wanted to add.

Outlaw had seen some scary motherfuckers and stood up to them, but, Jesus, the maniacal light in Boss’
s eyes frightened him. In that moment, he knew. One or both of them would die. Boss was too far gone, had too much innocent blood on his hands and wanted more. It didn’t motherfucking matter whose blood he spilled, either.

Boss thumped his
chest. “I’m not asking you to kill those sluts. I do the killing. You do the disposal.”

Outlaw backed away, his heart shattering into millions of pieces. He wanted to live. He wanted Boss to live. He wanted everything to be the same as before. Because
, if he somehow managed to get out of this with both their lives intact, he was turning in his patch. And that hurt as much as anything. This club represented everything to him. His fucking entire life.

“No
w go get the bitch.”

Rack stood. “Boss, calm down. Give the brother a break. I’ll get the fuckin’
bitch for you and do to her whatever you want me to afterwards.”

“I want this asshole. My VP,” he sneered. “I chose this motherfucker over my own flesh and blood.” He pulled his gun an
d shoved it to the bridge of Outlaw’s nose. “He owes me. You all fuckin’ owe me.”

“Dad, put your shit away. You’ll never fuckin’ forgive yourself if you hurt this motherfucker.”

Even the pretense of Snake and Outlaw having a friendship was stripped away. They’d always tolerated each other to make Big Joe happy.

“I chose you,
Christopher
,” Boss screamed. “You told me the fuck like it was. I respected that. You were a man of your word and cow towed to no one.” Spit slid from the sides of his mouth, the hand holding the gun shaking. “But if you defy me, you’re a dead fuck. I’m sick of your bullshit anyway. Whining about me and what I need to do. FUCK YOU. I do what the fuck I wanna do.”

After a tense moment, he lowered the gun and everyone breathed a collective sigh.
Boss narrowed his eyes, studied each man, then laughed and pulled Outlaw into a chokehold, his idea of affection. “I love ya, boy. You’re like a second son to me.” He thrust his chin toward the door. “I think I’m gonna get some rest. We’ll party another time.”

Unless
they had church or support clubs were visiting, no one hung out in the main room much anymore. Nowadays, they partied in small groups and in the rooms of the brothers who lived on premises. Most of the brothers had even given up their old ladies to keep the bitches safe. Boss was a loose cannon and no one wanted to set him off. After the near disaster in the boardroom, everyone scattered. Outlaw was exhausted, though, and he wanted to be alone. He didn’t want to see or hear no bullshit.

How unfortunate for him.

Just when the alcohol and Aunt Mary started buzzing through him, a girl’s scream ripped through the quiet. What the fuck was going on now? Grabbing his nine, he sprinted out the door and down the hall toward the sounds. He skidded to a halt and stared at the half opened door.

Boss’
s room.

Fuck.

“No! Stop! It hurts. Please, please, please.”

“Open, you little slut.”

The next scream went through Outlaw and he knew he had to breach the lion’s den. This girl sounded so fucking young. Too young. He didn’t know how he knew it because he’d dealt with bitches who were eighteen and nineteen, thanks to Boss. But Summer was the oldest bitch Boss had been with in a while and she’d been twenty-two.

“Help me! Please!”

The unmistakable sound of flesh connecting with flesh decided Outlaw. He opened the door fully and stepped in. On the bed, Boss lay between a pair of pale white legs, his pants still on, just pulled down. With each thrust, the girl screamed and Outlaw gripped his nine, knowing he had to be ready to fire, even though he kept his hand slack at his side.

He cleared his throat. “Yo’, Prez.”

Big Joe went still and looked over his shoulder, his weight bearing down on the female beneath him.

“Get the fuck out.”

“This ain’t our style,” he said quietly. “You hurtin’ her. I heard her screams down the hall.”

Boss
pulled away and roared to his feet, bringing up his pants as he did. Before he closed his fly, Outlaw saw Boss had as much blood on his dick as the girl had smeared on her thighs. Grabbing his .45 from the nightstand and stuffing it in his waistband, Boss stalked to Outlaw.

One glance at
the trembling girl on that bed told him all he needed to know. He’d been in enough bitches to recognize when he saw one who shouldn’t have some dirty old motherfucker using her the way Boss had. He hoped the gun stuffed in his pants went off and blew his fucking dick off.

Outlaw hated Joseph Foy, in tha
t moment. He couldn’t take this shit anymore. First thing tomorrow, he’d turn in his VP patch and stomp on his fucking cut.

Boss cold-clocked Outlaw, who’d been so lost in his thoughts he never saw it coming. Before Outlaw had a chance to recover, Boss hit him again, sending him to his knees.

He gripped handfuls of his hair. “I told you stay out my shit.”

Fighting to remain consc
ious, Outlaw’s hold on his gun tightened. “Let her go. I doubt she’s even legal.”

“She’ll be legal in about four years,” Boss sneered. “That ain’t your fucking business.”

Outlaw wanted to argue, but the time for arguing had passed. It all happened too quick and, yet, the girl’s head exploding, Boss turning the gun to Outlaw, and Outlaw raising his own piece and pulling the trigger while diving for cover seemed to go in slow motion. Painful, heartbreaking, life-changing slow motion with no rewind button to do shit over, to make whatever had gone wrong right. To bring this girl back.

But it was too late now. She was dead.

And Boss was dead.

Outlaw blinked and snapped back to the present, wanting
to forget everything about Joseph Fucking Foy. But, now, his beautiful girl needed him and Outlaw didn’t fucking know what to do with her. If he could fucking hate that motherfucking Boss a little more, he did just then.

Sighing, h
e buried his hand in her beautiful golden hair. He needed to get her the fuck away but he didn’t know where he’d put her. She made him weak and regretful. He’d always liked his given name but it just didn’t fit in these surroundings. And his sir name he fucking detested. He closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head.

“What happened between you and Rack?” he persisted.

“He c-came there…um…” She sniffled and sat up, her firm little ass grinding against his cock. “How long have I been here?”

“Two days
.” Two days of hell, too. He’d gotten just about fuck all done. She’d been feverish, racked with shivers and coughs, and thrashing through nightmares. He’d kept her cooled off with cool towels, dribbled water in her mouth, and acted like a nurse.

Though
pale, she was awake and Christopher took that as a good sign.

She swiped the back of her hand over her red, runny nose
and nodded. “Then, three nights ago. You told him about going after me for the money.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, studying her bruised and battered face. “What
you did, stealin’ his money, wasn’t good but it was only five dollars and after you told him what you wanted the bucks for, he shoulda pulled back. No, he shoulda fuckin’ gave you more money so you could get somethin’ decent to eat.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Wait. You sayin’ that motherfucker hunted you down or some shit?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. When he saw me he was really angry.”

Outlaw’s mind spun. He needed to get Rack the fuck out of the Death Dwellers, but he had a lot of the brothers in his corner and, if Outlaw disappeared Rack, he might face even more anarchy. He didn’t consider himself a bitch ass punk, but, fuck him, it took a heart of steel and balls the size of an elephant to run this shit. And he’d been fucked in the head for months, losing more and more control of everything because of all the hatred he carried for Big Joe.

Outlaw
scowled at the admission. He stared at what he knew could become his greatest weakness. “This is the deal, Megan.” He stood and folded his arms, determined to ignore the outline of her breasts in his shirt. “I have a meetin’ to get to. I’m gonna bring you some food. You take a shower after you eat and try to get some rest. I’ll see you in the mornin’ and we’ll figure out shit then.”

Megan frowned at him and sneezed.
“Are you going to sleep at your house?”

He’d
call Ellen so she could meet him at Kiera’s house, then fuck the two of them until his dick punked out. “Nope. Besides, I consider
this
place my house.”

She hesitated. “Oh,” she said in a s
mall voice as if she knew he’d leave her to go to another woman.

So what if she did? A
ll the better. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He remembered something else he’d noted on her driver’s license when he’d found her backpack and verified her identity.

“Happy belated birthday.”

She smiled at him and, though her lips were cracked and swollen, he swore her look reached out and touched his heart.

“Th-thank you,” she whispered. “That’s why I took the five dollars. I wanted to celebrate with some French fries. Treat my
self and try to forget my first birthday alone.”

A girl like her would see birthdays as special. A man like him acknowledged the day with herbs and pussy.

Her coughing reminded him he needed to buy some over-the-counter medicine for her. If she hadn’t improved by tomorrow when he returned, he’d have to suck it up, bring her to the hospital, and hope his sister wouldn’t be on duty.

“Stay in here.”

“Okay.”

A sweet voice to go with a beautiful face. Yeah, he was fucked if he didn’t get his dick in some bitch tonight and get Megan the fuck away from him to
morrow. “We’ll see about gettin’ you somewhere.”

She swallowed. “Is there anywhere you can send me? I-I mean a place where people know you?”

“My mother but—“

Jesus, th
e hope in her barely opened eye twisted him up.

“But?” she whispered.

“But I ain’t talked to or saw my mother for about a year.”

“Why?”

He cracked his knuckles before jerking his head from side-to-side and cracking his neck. “Because I…” His voice trailed off and he clenched his jaw. Because he’d felt tainted, unworthy to be in her presence. He’d broken the Bikers’ Creed, committed the ultimate betrayal, when his patch bound him to always take care of his brothers and their families. Respect them. His mother didn’t know about most of the shit he did, but she
did
know how he admired one certain man.

“Chris…um—“

He stalked toward the door. “Just stay in this fuckin’ room, Megan,” he snarled over his shoulder, beating a hasty retreat out of the room.

Coughing racked Meggie and she wanted to rest and heed Christopher’s words. Truly, she did. Neither did she want to run into Rack or any of the others who’d been with him
that night. But her empty stomach made her desperate. The last time she’d eaten was the soup she’d had here the night she met Christopher.

She glanced aroun
d, but found no phone or any other way to communicate beyond the walls of this room. She crawled out of bed, grumbling at the awkwardness of the side she slept on being against the wall. Removing herself from bed took work thanks to her stuffy head and achy body.

On her feet, she stood still,
allowing the dizziness to recede and the pain to settle into dull throbbing. She hobbled forward, heading toward the door across the room and to the right. Relief sighed through her lips when she realized she’d guessed right and found the bathroom.

After taking care of more basic needs, she forced herself to gaze into the mirror, crying out at the sight of her face and hair. Bruises, swelling, snarls, and tangles. When put together, it equaled the hot mess who stared back at her.

Maybe, she should remain in the room. The next time, Rack might kill her. What did three-day old hunger compare to getting another beating? As if to ridicule her, her belly grumbled and ached.

To do something to take her mind of
f her hunger pangs, she opted for a shower. She’d always gone for a swim at the creek to forget her wish for food. She peeled off the ridiculously big top and hung it on the hook of the cupboard door. Inside, she found towels. Before stepping into the bathtub and turning on the showerhead, she made sure there was soap and shampoo.

Finding both, she stepped under the warm spray of the shower and let it wash away weeks of dirt that swimming in the creek didn’t. She soaped her body, shampooed her hair and tried to forget the sight of Christopher and how it felt to be in his arms.

He’d left for the night and she didn’t want to consider what that meant. She might’ve retained her virginity by a thread, but she’d been exposed to sex thanks to her friends and her home life. The look in his eyes when he’d said he’d see her in the morning had been the same look Lacey had when the girl she sometimes slept with caught her with the guy she really wanted to be with.

Christopher was going to some woman. Meggie supposed his look had been worry because he didn’t want her to cause any trouble between him and whoever.

The soap and shampoo burned over her cuts. Worse, a bout of coughing and sneezing seized her. She hoped she’d developed a bad cold and not pneumonia. Instead of taking her to a doctor, he’d nursed her himself. While sweet, it meant she lacked proper medical attention.

Her stomach growled.

Or the proper nourishment.

She’d make do. Find something to distract herself.
After she finished cleaning herself, she’d go through the CDs she’d seen in Christopher’s room and listen to music. Her plan settled, she turned off the shower and wrung out her hair, pushing the shower curtain aside. She shivered, though she felt as if she’d go up in flames. The cool air hitting her wet skin brought another round of coughing.

Meggie moaned, feeling sicker than a dog. She knew she couldn’t leave her hair uncombed, so, for
a time, Meggie focused on her task, detangling it little by little until it curtained her back and shoulders. Then, she parted it down the middle and styled it into two braids. Between the shower and the hairstyling, exhaustion settled into her and she swayed.

She focused on the door on the
opposite side of the bedroom, hoping to find a closet since the only other door stood straight ahead and opened to the hallway. Another rush of heat burst through her and she thought she’d erupt into flames at any moment. She’d kill for a glass of water.

Maybe, Christopher sleeping somewhere else was a good thing.
She didn’t want him catching whatever she had. She let the towel drop to her feet and fanned herself, licking her dry lips.

The bed seemed so far away. Didn’t horses sleep standing up? Meggie palmed her eyes and scowled. If not horses, some animal did. Maybe, she could, too. Just stop and close her eyes and sink into
unconsciousness.

And slip to the ground and conk herself into oblivion.

The door swung open and three men barreled into the room, then came to a screeching halt. Their gazes fell on her and their mouths fell open.

Meggie squeaked, dropping her focus to where the towel lay on the floor. Too much distance. She blinked and
, through her hazy heat, recognized Val with his stocky build, bald head, and tear drop tat beneath his eye. The two Black guys with dreads, diamond studs, and light brown eyes, though, she’d never seen.

The
shorter one slapped the other’s arm. “Check yourself, fuckhead,” he snapped. “If you don’t stop starin’ Outlaw gonna pluck both your fuckin’ eyes out.”

“He’s staring, Mortician,” the man snapped, pointing to
Val.

Meggie swallowed and stumbled back.

“Er, um—“

Her thoughts exactly.
She didn’t need to echo Val’s words when he said them with such eloquence.

“I’m Digger,” the tallest one said, the one the man named Mortician slapped. “We came to see ‘bout you.”
As he spoke, he concentrated on her face or some place over her shoulders. “Outlaw said not to disturb you too much. I wanted to know what you wanted to eat. My brother, Mortician, wants to show you around the club and keep you company while you stayed out there. And, Val, here, he’s riding out for a minute. He wanted to know if you needed anything while he was gone.”

She sneezed and saw double. She reached out to balance herself. To her, it seemed as if the men stepped back. “Food would be great,” she got out, somehow staying on her feet. “Something to wear, too. Guiding me to a chair or the bed would be even better.”

“I like breathing, Megan,” Mortician remarked. “I’m not fucking touching you while you’re naked.”

She opened her mouth to speak, not release the hideous squeak. The room, the face
s, whirled around her, mixing with the stars and the fuzziness in her head. The concrete rose to meet her. She reached out and two strong arms caught her, saving her from an indignant fall to the floor.