Property of Fox (Mayhem Makers: Bastard Boilers MC)

24. Fox

FOX

The man, still very dead, lines unnaturally still on the floor. His blood leaking from the wound in a pool around his head like a halo. I head down into the bathroom, searching the cabinets for anything that I can use. There’s a roll of gauze and heavy flow maxi pads on one of the shelves. “I don’t think they are meant a gaping knife wound when they marketed these for a heavy flow, but they’ll work,” I laugh to myself.

Under the sink, I find a box of latex gloves next to a large stash of vintage hair dye bottles. With the supplies in hand, I head back to the kitchen and deposit them on to the counter. I move towards the kitchen sink, opening the doors below. It’s like a treasure trove of cleaning supplies. I can stop the bleeding and clean up the mess, but how do I haul him out of here without making more of a mess for myself? I pivot, walking back down the hallway, opening doors as I walk by until I find a closet near Brea’s room. Inside, I find a mixture of old paint supplies, and there on the very bottom, is a plastic drop cloth.

“This is like the super center for covering up a murder,” I chuckle before I grab the drop cloth and head back into the kitchen. Slipping the gloves onto my hands, I kneel beside the body. My eyes are drawn to the gaping wound. Judging by the amount of blood, Brea had likely gotten his carotid artery on the first try. An efficient, but bloody way to go. I stand back up, surveying the scene in front of me. Cleaning up the mess will be the easiest part. I've done this dozens of times, but I have no idea where I can dispose of him. Back home, this wouldn’t be a problem, but I’m not in Indiana right now.

“Got any ideas, asshole?” I ask the corpse at my feet. “Any last wishes for where you want to spend eternity?” Silence answers me back. “Dealer’s choice it is.”

I take a deep breath, the smell of iron permeating the air like rancid perfume. I reach for supplies. One thing is for sure, this guy left one hell of a mess on the kitchen floor. I lean over him cautiously but with purpose. The body feels rigid beneath me as I place a couple of maxi pads on the wound before I wrap a length of gauze tight around his neck wound. There's no time to lose if I'm going to get this done right without raising alarms or attracting unwanted attention. It takes all I've got not to let my thoughts drift too far down that rabbit hole.

With one last tug the bandage is secured firmly enough so he won’t bleed out any more on the floor. My attention shifts downward among stray red smears leading under his torso like some twisted modern art piece.

“Let’s get your rolled over, shall we?” I carefully move him onto his side, my heart sinking as I see the familiar patch peeking out from below his shoulder blade. He's a Hoosier Hellion. “Motherfucker,” I swear. A fucking Hoosier Hellion broke into this house. What the hell was he even doing here? Why target this house and these women? It didn’t make sense. Keira sure didn’t seem like the cut bunny type outside the fictional ones in her books, and neither did Brea. The only obvious reason is me, but my cut is back in Lafayette. No one knew I was here unless someone uploaded a fucking photo of me from that goddamn signing or someone associated with the club was there too. Fuck, I should have never agreed to help Eden. I’ve put Brea into the crosshairs to play house with Eden for the weekend.

I strip off my gloves, the latex snapping against my skin with a muted pop that echoes in the silence, and shove them into my pocket. As I step out of the kitchen, pulling out my phone, I scroll through my contacts until I find the one I am looking for. I tap Azrael’s name on speed dial and bring it to ear level while pacing across the living room.

“If you got arrested, I’m not bailing you out,” he answers groggy and half-conscious.

“I wish that were the case, but we have a problem.”

Azrael's voice sharpens, the sleepiness evaporating in an instant. “What kind of problem?”

I bite my lip, glancing back at the body as if expecting it to leap up and join the conversation. “There’s a dead guy on Brea’s kitchen floor, and he’s marked with Hellion colors.”

“Fuck,” Azrael hisses. A shuffling noise comes from his side of the call, a muffled voice following it. “Hang on.” I listen as Azrael reassures Hallie before the background noise disappears. “You’re sure it’s a Hellion?”

“I think I know what their patch looks like, Az. I’ve seen it enough times to know.”

“Fuck!” he roars again. “What the hell were they doing there? Did you see anybody else?”

“No. Just this guy.” I take a steadying breath, trying to maintain my composure. “He broke into the house Brea was sharing with a friend of hers named Keira.”

“Did he follow you to the house?”

I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “No, I don’t think so. I haven’t seen anyone else around, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Do you have it handled?”

“Yeah, I’m working on clean up. Any ideas where I can stash him?”

“No, but I can do a little digging while you’re cleaning up the mess,” Azrael replies, his voice cool but laced with urgency.

“I’ll figure out something.” I pace, my mind replaying back the fight. He was focused on me until Brea came into the room. Why is that? Did he think he could use her against me? “How did this fucker find this house? I can’t figure it out.”

“How much do you know about Brea? Do you think she could have a connection with them?”

“If you’re accusing her of setting me up, you’re out of your fucking mind, Az. She doesn’t know about the club. She knows I’m in one, but I never gave her the name.”

“If it’s not her then someone was following you to find her house. We did take out one of their guys on our last trip to Texas. Maybe there’s a chapter down there we don’t know about.”

“I mean, it’s possible.” While we had done our own expansion across the mid-west and the South over the years, the Hellions didn’t seem that interested in broadening their borders outside of Indiana, or so we thought.

“Where’s Brea now?”

“She and her roommate are back at my hotel for the time being.”

“Then she’ll be safe for now,” he interjects, his tone shifting to something resembling reassurance. “Just focus on getting rid of the body. We’ll figure out the rest after he’s out of the picture.”

“Yeah. Easy peasy, right?” I murmur, sarcasm dripping from my voice as I hang up on Azrael. Putting my phone into my pocket I turn back to the kitchen. “Let’s get you tucked away, shall we?”

Grabbing a new pair of gloves, I grab the bottle of bleach, a roll of paper towel, and the plastic drop cloth. Normally, I’d remove the body first, but there’s too much blood. Instead of it being confined to the kitchen, it would be fucking everywhere. I lay out the plastic next to me before I soak the floor around the pooled blood, using the paper towels to soak it up until the entire roll of paper towel is spent, but the floor is sparkling. Discarding the blood and bleach-soaked paper towels onto the plastic, I turn to the very dead body. The motherfucker is heavier than he looks as I drag him by the arms on to the plastic. Taking care to clean up the remaining blood, I toss the paper towels on top of him, adding the knife for good measure, before rolling him up like a taquito fit for a zombie.

I tie off the drop cloth tight, hoping I’ve mummified him long enough to buy me some time. My stomach churns as I glance at the clock on the wall. With one last look at my handiwork, I shove the bundled corpse toward the front door. It's not exactly the best idea, but it’s the only one I have. I just pray that the neighbors are heavy sleepers and not early risers.

Dragging him across the porch isn’t exactly easy, every push deepens my fear that someone might catch a glimpse of what I am doing. But luck seems to hold out for me tonight. I heave him over the threshold, feeling the thud of weighty flesh hitting the ground beneath me.

“Don’t look so smug,” I murmur to him as if he could hear me. “You have no one to blame but yourself.” He doesn’t respond—just lies there in silence, reminding me of everything that’s gone wrong tonight.

Once he's outside, it’s a matter of hitching him up and shoving him into the bed of my truck. I glance around, heart pounding, making sure no one is watching as I maneuver the body into place. I quietly shut the tailgate. My eyes scanning every house within view. No lights. No movement. I dart back inside to grab my gear. The last thing I need is to leave evidence behind.

Sure that I’ve gotten everything and securing a t-shirt and a pair of lounge pants that were not even remotely close to my size from the closet in Brea’s room, I head back out to the truck and slide into the driver’s seat. The last thing I need now is for someone to pull me over for a broken brake light, or worse, a damned police checkpoint.

My phone buzzes in my pocket like an angry hornet. Azrael again.

“You done?” his voice cuts through the haze.

“Package is gift wrapped and loaded. Waiting for his delivery location.”

“Looks like there’s a lake not far away. Not ideal, but it will work. I just texted you the address to one of the boat docks. It’s more remote according to Google Street View. There’s a couple of primitive camp sites, but that’s it.”

“Great, just what I need—a romantic lakeside view for a corpse disposal,” I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes. The irony of it all wasn’t lost on me as I opened the link he’d sent me, loading it into my GPS before steering toward the coordinates Azrael texted.

“Just don’t get seen,” he advises, his voice steady but clipped. “You know how it is—eyes everywhere.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not an amateur here,” I shoot back. “I won’t be seen.”

The truck rumbles over bumps and potholes as I make my way down the dimly lit road leading to the lake. My mind races, replaying everything that led to this moment. Brea. The Hellion. The blood. Each thought twists like a knife through my gut, reminding me how close danger was this evening.

When I pull up to the dock, the place is eerily quiet, save for the soft lapping of water against the slick wooden pylons. Moonlight cascades over the surface, illuminating patches of dark water that look more treacherous than peaceful.

“Alright, buddy,” I murmur to myself as I hop out and peer into the back of the truck at my unfortunate passenger. “Time for a dip.”

Grunting, I lift the rolled-up bundle again and make my way to the edge of the pier. A faint rustle in the trees makes me pause. Adrenaline floods my veins as instincts kick in. Every nerve screams at me to bolt back to safety, but there’s no turning back now. I glance over my shoulder, the darkness swallowing the sound behind me. The wind carries a whisper of dread, yet I shake it off as paranoia. Just focus.

I take a step closer to the edge, the wood creaking with each step. The water lies below like a gaping mouth ready to swallow whatever I feed it. I release my grip just enough to shift him in my arms, positioning him for the drop. “Hope you can’t swim.”

With a final heave, I release him into the inky depths below. The splash echoes like a gunshot, slicing through the stillness of the night, and I immediately freeze, holding my breath as if the noise could summon someone from their home. It feels like time stretches thinly as I listen while the lake swallows the evidence almost eagerly, pulling him beneath its glassy surface like a predator dragging down prey. I wait until he’s gone before heading back to the truck, changing out of my bloody clothes and into the t-shirt and pink polka dotted lounge pants that leave little to the imagination.

Disposing of my ruined clothes proves to be more challenging than getting rid of my undead companion. I scan the area and spot a smoldering fire pit at a nearby campsite. It's risky, but it's my only option. I move quietly towards the fire pit, dodging a tent where passionate sounds can be heard coming from inside. As I carefully add my clothes to the fire, I hear a high-pitched scream from within the tent. A smile spreads across my face as I realize that these unsuspecting individuals are unwittingly helping me cover up a murder. It's poetic justice, really.

Once I’m back in the truck, I fire off a text to Az, letting him know it’s done, before driving back to the house to gather up some things for both Keira and Brea. Until I know why he came here, I’m not letting either of them out of my site.

The truck shakes as I navigate the winding roads back. Thoughts race through my mind like a pack of wolves, gnawing at the edges of my sanity. Brea’s face flashes before me. Her green eyes filled with their usual defiance and that damn sass that could set fire to a field. It’s maddening, exhilarating, and in this moment, utterly distracting.

But danger doesn’t rest. I need to focus on her safety, especially now that blood stains my hands, figuratively speaking and literally now, too if you count those damned paper towels. The last thing I want is for Brea to get tangled in this mess or, even worse, get hurt because of me.

As I pull into the familiar drive, I kill the engine and sit in silence for a moment. The house stands still against the darkened sky.

I head back inside, going to Brea’s room first, finding a half-packed bag by the bed. It’s not much, but it’s enough to get her by for a few days. Keira’s room is the same. Either, they hadn’t unpacked yet or they were prepared to bug out at a moment’s notice. The latter making little sense as Brea said she was starting over here. I shake off the unease and refocus on the task at hand.

Satisfied with the two bags, I check the kitchen once more before heading out the front door, securing it behind me. I toss the bags into the cab and glance around, ensuring no one is lurking. Sliding behind the wheel, I pull out of the driveway and onto the road that leads into town. The quiet hum of the engine is almost soothing. I’m so lost in my own head, my body on autopilot, I only snap out of it when the hotel’s sign comes into view. I pull into the parking lot, finding the closest spot near the door in case we have to make a break for it. My pulse quickens as I step out of the truck with their bags.

I stride toward the entrance, keeping my head low and my shoulders squared. The hotel lobby is surprisingly quiet, the faint sound of a television murmuring from the break room in the back. I beeline for the elevator. As the elevator doors slide shut, I lean against the cool metal, taking a moment to catch my breath. My heart is still thrumming like a bass drum, each beat a reminder of the mess I just waded through. The faint ding of the elevator nudges me back to reality. “Focus,” I murmur to myself, steadying my grip on the duffle bags. I round the corner, conscious of every creak in the floor beneath my feet. Just a few more feet until you can fucking relax for a second.

I find my room and knock softly. “It’s me, firefly.”

The door swings open with a soft creak. Brea stands before me, tousled hair spilling over her shoulders like dark waves, her green eyes wide and alert. She opens the door wider to let me in. I am barely inside before her arms are around my neck, drawing me into a hug.

“I was so worried,” she whispers against my shoulder.

“I told you that nothing was going to happen to me. I keep my promises.” I peer over her shoulder to the sleeping form of Keira on the edge of the bed.

She pauses, looking down at my outfit. “What are you wearing?”

“You don’t like it?” I smile back at her. “It’s from your closet. I didn’t really peg you for a pink polka dot kind of girl, to be honest. Just be glad I picked this and not one of those sequined dresses I found.”

“Oh, those aren’t mine. Those clothes belong to Brea’s aunt.”

“That tracks,” I smile before Keira rustles in the bed behind us, taking all my jokes away in an instant. “Is she okay?”

Brea lets me go, turning to her slumbering friend. “She’s shaken up, but she fell asleep about an hour ago.”

“What about you?” I ask.

“I’m still numb. I don’t think it’s sunken in yet…what I did, I mean.” I felt the same way after my first kill. Guilt ate me alive for weeks until I found a way of coping with it. Women. It’s funny to think that sex became my coping mechanism, but I’ve heard of worse, far less pleasurable things. Until now. Now, the only thing I need to feel is Brea safe in my arms to wash away the dark stain of death from my hands. Reassurance that she’s okay.

“That numbness can be a double-edged sword,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on my chest. “Just know that it’s okay to feel it, but once it hits, it’ll hit hard.” Guilt has a funny way of showing up when you least expect it.

She nods absently, her gaze drifting back to Keira.

“I brought you both a bag of clothes, just in case we need to bail.”

Her brow furrows, confusion flickering across her features. “Bail? Why would we need to bail?”

I run a hand through my hair and take a deep breath. “The man who broke into the house was a member of our rival club.”

Brea’s eyes widen, the color draining from her face. Her face, unreadable.

“He must have followed me to your house. When we were here at the last signing, we had some issues with them. I’d hoped not wearing our colors would eliminate that problem. Guess not,” I reply, my insides twisting. “But, for the time being, it’s taken care of until we can figure out our next move.”

She swallows hard, glancing back at Keira again, as if that might somehow shield them both from the reality looming over us like a storm cloud. “Was he a Hoosier Hellion?”

Her question hits me like a ton of bricks falling from thirty thousand feet. I blink, assessing her face. “How do you know that name?” I ask, my voice low and cautious.

“So, it was a Hoosier Hellion then?” she asks again.

“Yes,” I admit. “Answer the question, Brea. How do you know who they are?”

“Shit, you said rival. You’re a member of the Bastard Boilers, aren’t you?” she curses under her breath.

I don’t deny it.

“Because, of course, you are. Of all the guys at that freaking signing, of course, I had to go for the Bastard Boilers member.”

“Why does that make a difference?” It wouldn’t…unless. No. It’s not possible. Was Az right? Does she have ties to the Hellions?

“He wasn’t there for you.” Brea stares back at me. “He was there for me.”

My heart races as I search her eyes for answers that don’t come. “Why would they want you?”

She takes a shaky breath, steeling herself against whatever tides threaten to pull us apart. “It’s Tank,” she says finally, the name rolling off her tongue like poison. “My stepdad. He’s a Hoosier Hellion in the mother chapter in Bloomington.”

“You mean the stepdad you casually mentioned a few days ago? I’m going to need more than that. Explain.” I try to keep my tone even, but there’s an unexpected bite to it. She’s the fucking stepdaughter of a Hellion. Brea's gaze drops to the floor as though it holds the answers I need. I take a step closer, desperate for clarity. "What does he want from you?"

“We moved here when I was younger from Ireland. My dad did mechanic work for the Hellions until he died,” she continues, brushing a stray curl behind her ear as if it could somehow shield herself from this truth. “Tank shoved his way into our lives, and about a year later, he married my mom.” A tremor runs through Brea’s frame. All I want to do is reach out and comfort her, but I’m rooted in place.

“Does he have some fucking property claim on you?”

“God no. I’d never allow that to happen. He’s my mom’s problem. Not mine.”

“If he doesn’t own you, why would he send someone after you?”

“I don’t know. He’s always been controlling of me, telling me what to do, where to work, confining me to the house like a fucking child. But it got worse a few weeks ago. He started showing up at the coffee shop where I worked, and whenever Keira and I would go to the bookstore.”

“That’s why you left, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she admits. “Keira quit college to help me escape. The house we’re staying in is her aunt’s house. I don’t understand how he found us. We were so careful. He was tracking me through my phone, so we left it in Bloomington. I thought we would be safe here until I figured out where to go next. I guess not. I don’t know how he found us.”

“The signing, maybe. Did anyone know you were going?”

“No,” she admits. “Keira had asked me a dozen times to come with her, but I knew Tank would never let me leave. I didn’t even say anything to my mom about it. There’s no way he could have connected the signing to me.”

“Brea…” I start, my voice thick with urgency and protective instinct. “Why didn’t you tell me about all of this?”

“I barely know you, Fox. The second said you said you were a biker, I knew I couldn’t tell you anything about my life without risking my safety and Keira’s. I couldn’t risk your club being allied with Tanks and being taken back there.”

“Do you think I’m like them?" I seethe.

“I don’t know.” She shifts away slightly, pulling her arms tight around herself as though my very presence has become a threat.

“Brea, look at me,” I say, my voice firm yet laced with the softness she needs to hear despite the rage swirling inside me. I don’t want her to feel alone in this, especially not now, but fuck, I don’t know how to feel right now. “I’m not like the Hellions. I’m not like your stepdad. I'd never hurt you or anyone innocent. You’ve got to believe me.”

“I want to, too. God, I want to put my trust in you, but you just cleaned up a murder scene because of me. That is not normal.”

The thought twists my gut, but I can’t let her keep pushing me away. She’s scared to put her trust into anyone, especially another biker. I get it, I really do. Actions over time earn trust. Time we haven’t had together. It takes more than a few days, and murder to be able to put your blind faith into someone.

“You’re right, it’s not, but if I wanted to hurt you, I could have just let him do the job he came to do.”

She looks up at me, her green eyes shimmering with uncertainty. “You didn’t know about my past. That could have changed how you reacted.”

“If I had known your story, that situation would have never happened.” I want to argue, to assure her that I’m on her side, but the truth is murky and tangled. The only thing I know right now is that protecting Brea, and by extension, Keira, from the Hellions is my priority. The second, is figuring out, how the fuck I am going to tell Az and the club that I literally slept with the stepdaughter of the greatest rival. I’ll never live that down. “But now, I do, and it doesn’t change things. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Am I pissed you didn’t tell me? Absolutely. Does that change anything for me? No.”

Brea’s breath catches, and I can see the internal battle playing out behind those emerald eyes. “It should change everything, Fox. It’s not fair to you. You deserve better than that.”

“Doesn’t matter what I deserve.” I step closer. “You’re worth the risk, Brea. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“But—” she starts, but I cut her off by taking her hands in mine. The roughness of my palms against her smooth skin feels electric.

“No ‘buts.’ You need to trust me. And I’m going to figure out how to keep you and Keira safe. We’ll deal with Tank together,” I say, my voice firm as steel, though uncertainty nips at my edges.

She hesitates before nodding slowly, perhaps more to appease me than out of true belief. “Okay,” she whispers, and it’s a fragile promise that fills the space between us.

The moment stretches as our gazes lock, a tension building that threatens to swallow us whole. All the unspoken things hang heavy in the charged silence: fear, hope, desire—everything teetering on the brink of collapse.

“I need to call Az and let him know what’s going on. After that, we’ll figure out what to do next.”

She nods in agreement. Her arms wrapping around herself like a security blanket. All I want to do is comfort her, but until Az knows, I can’t. Getting lost in her doesn’t fix this situation. I reach for my phone in my pocket, almost reluctant to break the moment, but reality hangs heavy on my shoulders. The first ring barely echoes before Azrael answers.

“What now?”

“I know why the Hellions targeted Brea and Keira. Brea’s stepdad is a Hellion.”

Silence stretches over the line, thick and taut like a cable ready to snap. I can almost hear Azrael’s mind racing, the gears grinding against each other in immediate analysis mode.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he bursts out.

“I know,” I reply, not trying to soften the blow but rather to ground him in reality. “She escaped from him, and she thinks they tracked her down to Dallas.”

“Or so she says,” he fires back. “I told you to stay away from her. Look what your dick has gotten our club into now, Fox. This could mean all-out war.”

“And that’s why I’m letting you know. I— we’ve got to figure out how to protect them before it escalates any further.” I steal a glance at Brea. A flicker of fear dances behind her eyes, but she’s managing to keep it in check, holding onto what strength she can muster. “They’re not safe here, Az,” I continue, tightening my grip on my phone as if it might siphon off the tension thrumming between us. “If Tank knows where they are, he's going to come after them hard.”

“They’re not our problem, Fox. They’re not patched property.”

“They are to me,” I cut him off, feeling the surge of defiance rise within me. “This is about more than just loyalty to the club. It’s about doing what’s right—for them and for me.”

“Right?” Azrael’s voice spikes with disbelief. “You think it’s right to drag us into a fucking war because you’re too wrapped up in her pussy to see how dangerous this is?”

I swallow my frustration, knowing Az is only looking out for the club. But Brea deserves better than to be treated like collateral damage. “We can’t focus on what they are or aren’t to us when their lives are on the line, man.”

A long pause hangs between us, thick with tension. I wish I could reach through the line and shake some sense into Azrael, but I know he’s being rational in a world that often demands anything but.

“If we take this on,” he finally replies, his tone calmer yet still laced with caution, “it’ll change everything. For us, for them, and for Asher. Are you ready to shoulder that burden?”

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation, surprising even myself. The conviction burns hot in my chest as I glance at Brea, now watching me intently. “I’m claiming Brea.”

Azrael exhales sharply into the phone, a low rumble like thunder before a storm breaks loose. “Fine,” he relents at last. “But if this goes sideways, it’s on you. Your mess to clean up.”

“Understood,” I reply.

“How soon can you get here?”

“Az, I wasn’t asking to bring them…” I trail off as Brea’s eyes snap to mine.

“You can’t protect them there. Coming home is the only option you have right now. Once they figure out the guy they sent is missing, they’ll send more.”

Fine,” I say, feeling Az’s words settle like lead in my stomach. “I’ll make it work. Just give me some time to get everything packed up.”

“Get them moving, Fox. Do it now,” he urges before hanging up.

Turning back to Brea, her expression mirrors the fear brewing inside me. “Wake up, Keira. We need to leave. Now.”

“Leave where?” she asks, confusion mixing with fear in her voice.

This isn’t going to be easy, nothing ever is.

“Home. Back to Lafayette, and Bastard Boilers territory.”