18. Cops and monsters calling
CHAPTER 18
COPS AND MONSTERS CALLING
I race out of the room, following behind Callan, barely getting my feet into my sneakers. There’s an influx of activity in the clubhouse as we rush through the halls. Reaching Callan’s office, there’s barely enough space for us to enter. The large bodies of pissed-off bikers fill the room.
“What do you want to do?” Grease asks, looking over at Callan. The alarm stops, but the ringing in my ears doesn’t.
“It’s only one car. Buzz them in.”
“You sure?” Daddy asks.
“Yeah. Monster will be back any minute. We need to get rid of them before he gets here.”
Everyone gathers in the bar. Members I do know, members I don’t, women, and prospects all crowd the room in solidarity: a warning to the two officers entering the space. They have no power here.
One cop jerks his head in greeting, looking sheepish. His partner, however, has bigger balls than most. His outright hatred rolls off him in waves.
“Mr. Cox, we’d like a word in private.” There’s no fear, and that’s a mistake. I’ve seen the demon that lies in waiting behind Callan’s facade. And he’s one scary motherfucker.
“There are no secrets here, gentlemen, have your word.” Callan offers his cocky grin that could melt the panties off a nun.
“Fine.” He pulls out a notebook and pen. “Can you tell us where you were last night?”
A bolt of panic zaps through me. The dead men we left at Ray’s haunt my mind.
“Here, there, can you be more specific?” Callan’s cocky attitude feeds the room.
The officer’s jaw twitches. “Between the hours of two and four in the morning.” That wasn’t the time Ray’s got hit. That was after, when Callan left and came back covered in more blood. Fresh blood.
“That is specific. Why are you asking?”
Exhaling heavily, the officer flicks the notepad open and curls his fingers around a pen. “Just answer the question. The sooner you tell us, the sooner we’re gone.”
“You act like you don’t want to be here.” Callan waves his hand around the room. “Can I get you a drink? Food? Maybe a slut to fuck?”
“Mr. Cox.” He’s losing patience.
“Do your superiors know you’re here?” Callan takes a step toward him, his hands clasped casually against his lower abdomen.
“They sent us. That’s why we’re here and not a detective. Answer the question and we’ll leave you to whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Everything okay, officer? You seem blue,” Dodger belts out. The room erupts into laughter. Callan quiets everyone with a shake of his head
“One of ours lost two sons last night,” he bites out, resting his hand on his hip above his gun holster.
Two.
“Someone witnessed you out late last night, Mr. Cox,” the other officer pipes in, though there isn’t enough confidence in his voice for it to be an accusation.
“Really?” Callan looks around his brothers. “Where?”
“At Saint Richard’s,” the angry cop states.
Callan wrinkles his nose. “The boarded-up church used by meth heads?”
“If you can’t explain your whereabouts, we’ll have to take you to the station.” He’s had enough of the bullshit.
“The fuck you are,” Grease rumbles. Violence simmers in the air, ranks closing around Callan. This could end fucking ugly. The last thing I need is to witness the murder of cops.
“He was with me.” I push through the brothers, coming to stand beside Callan. I bite my lip, acting the part.
“And you are?”
“Sore.” I place a hand on my crotch and bare my teeth. “He got a bit rough.” More chuckles.
“Do you have anyone who can corroborate this?”
I point behind me and frown. “Diamond gave me some aloe to put on it.” I lift my hands and shrug. I don’t have to look at Callan to know he’s wearing that smirk.
“That’s true. And cranberry juice. It helps keep things healthy down there.” One of the blonde triplets points a long red nail at the officer.
“That’s not what I meant.” He blows out a frustrated breath, shaking his head. “Fine. Thanks for your cooperation. We may be in touch.”
“Oh, kinky. I can write you a play-by-play if you’d like.” I wink.
“I’ll take a copy of that,” Dodger drawls.
The officer notices the cameras and gestures around the room. “Are these recording? Do you have last night’s footage?”
“Oh my god, now he wants their sex tape. They’re not Pam and Tommy!” one of the triplets squeals.
Callan grins, enjoying the torment. “The cameras at the gates only begin recording if there’s movement. Since it was early morning, we’d have been preoccupied either sleeping or fucking. There was no movement, hence no recordings.”
“I’m pretty sure you’d need a warrant for that either way,” Kitty interjects, and I feel lighter seeing her.
“Thanks for your time,” the second officer says, trying to get out of here as fast as possible. I follow Callan to the front door, not wanting to let him out of my sight until I get the answers to my questions. The summer sun is brutal. The heat soaks into my skin as we step out, making me instantly sweat. The unmistakable rumble of bikes vibrates through the air as more brothers arrive. The gates open, and a parade of bikes pull through. A man resembling a yeti pulls his motorcycle right up to the tips of the officer’s boots.
“What did I miss?” His cut reads: Monster, Road Captain.
“Not much. The officers outstayed their welcome and now they’re leaving,” Grease informs him.
“Still walking?” Monster asks, flicking his gaze over them both. The younger one pales.
“Is that a threat against an officer?” the older of the two demands, his hand hovering close to the piece on his hip.
“I’m pretty sure he is wondering if you are walking or driving.” I bat my lashes, twirling a strand of hair.
“Like the bitch said,” Monster guffaws.
A truck pulls in and drives around the side of the building, its meaty engine roaring past us.
“Maybe we should take a look around.”
“I’ve been gracious, but unless you have a warrant, you can be on your way. And tell Chief Webber I said hi.”
Without another word, they make their way back to their car. The lights flash, and a sharp siren slices through the air before they drive out the gate. I blow out a hard breath, releasing it from my lungs.
Dismounting their bikes, each member shakes Callan’s hand and slaps him on the back. “How’d it go?” he asks Monster. I feel awkward lingering, but I don’t want Callan to disappear before telling me everything.
“The truck is full.” Monster rubs his hands together.
“Dodger, call Church.” Callan grins.
“On it.”
“Who’s the bitch?” Monster jerks his chin to me, and I answer for him.
“Rogue. A friend of Kitty’s.” I extend a hand, and he grabs on to it and tugs me into his body. God only knows how long he’s been on the road and what the fuck he participated in while out there, but he smells like a rotten jock strap.
“Where is the little minx? She owes me a game. Cleared me out before I left,” he grumbles.
“There’s time for that later. Right now, we talk business.” Callan unhooks the man’s paws from around me and meets my eyes with his. “I’ll be back soon and we can talk.” Then he disappears with the new arrivals.
Heading back inside, I walk down to Kitty’s room and rap my knuckles on the door. “Come in.”
“I thought you’d run back here to hide out.” I say as I enter.
“Am I that obvious?” She’s sitting with her legs up on her bed stroking a hand down Keg’s back. His purr encourages her to keep going. Kitty’s room is the complete opposite of Callan’s. Bright colors burst from every inch of it. Stripy wallpaper covers every wall, and an array of matching fuzzy cushions lay around her on the bed. Snacks litter her bedside dresser, surrounding a lamp that has a woman’s torso as a stand and a pink velvet lamp shade. She’s quirky, and her room is an extension of her, and I love it.
“You can’t let her affect you like this. This is your club.”
She blows out a harsh breath. “I know. Dammit, I fucking hate that woman.” I hate that man, but I keep that tidbit to myself. The idea of having left him to bleed out runs through my mind. “There’s a big party tonight,” she says, excitement back in her eyes.
“Really?” I ask, picking up a discarded jacket from her floor placing it on a hook by her door.
“Yeah. Monster and his crew are back from a run.”
I jab a finger over my shoulder and lie on her bed, my head on her legs. “Pretty sure I just met him.”
“Did he grab your pussy?”
“Ew, no.” I scrunch my nose and pinch her thigh.
“Ow!” She laughs, smacking my hand away. “He’s a pervert with zero boundaries.”
If the grubby cunt grabbed me there, I’d punch him in the throat. “Is that why they call him Monster?”
A filthy smirk tilts her lips. She shakes her head and leans down, opening a drawer in her bedside dresser.
I lean up to see what she’s doing, and my eyes ping wide. “What the fuck is that?” I screech, jumping up and away from her swirling a mammoth giant dildo.
“Monster cock!” she cackles, holding her gut and laughing. “He had these made and gave them out as gifts.”
“No fucking way.” I shiver.
She bends in half, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Have you used that?” I grimace.
“Fuck no. My coochie couldn’t handle that horse cock.” She snorts.
“Why did you keep it?” I tease, throwing a cushion at her. She bats it away with the dildo, and I crack up. “Seriously, though, why the hell did you keep that?”
“I use it to kill spiders.” She shrugs like that’s an entirely normal thing to do. I love her.
“Fuck those spiders.” I nod my head.
“Exactly.” She slaps the dildo against her hand, making a clapping sound. “I might fuck someone else tonight,” she says, her laughter lines ironing out. “Show him, you know?” The aura of the room shifts, a somber note eclipsing the humor.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Kit. Could hurt you more than him.” I move across her bed and tug her to me, hugging her. “He doesn’t deserve you.” She burrows into my hold, and we lay there with Keg between our hips.
“Will you let me do your hair and makeup for tonight?” she asks, brushing her fingers through my auburn strands.
“As long as I don’t end up with purple or pink hair, sure.”
“Green?” she teases, and I smile, content lying next to her. You never really know how much you need someone until you find them and can’t bear the thought of losing them.
“Did you put that cock away?” I ask, squished up beside her.
We both burst into a fit of giggles.
Yeah, losing her would suck.
* * *
Kitty wasn’t kidding about the party being a big one. Music pounds through the compound, pulsating the walls. People are everywhere, drinking or fucking. It’s like rules don’t matter here. Kitty is surrounded by scary-ass-looking bikers, cleaning them out at a card table.
“Fuck,” Green bellows, throwing his cards down and kicking his brother’s leg. “I told you I shouldn’t play against her.”
Tim shrugs and struts away like it’s not his problem. Kitty scoops up her winnings and tucks a twenty down the front of Green’s shirt. “Buy yourself something pretty,” she croons.
He throws it back at her. “Twenty minutes with you, pretty thing.” A giant arm swings past her head, a fist landing with a crunch on Green’s nose. His body flops to the floor at her feet making her bark a laugh.
“Thanks, Grease, but I can take care of myself.”
He flexes his hand. “I know.” I don’t mention that fighting is only supposed to happen in the ring. Instead, I help Kitty grab her cash.
The blonde triplets are taking their turns on the pole. Daddy’s up front and center, with Rose on his lap, her giant baby bump poking out the bottom of her shirt.
“Those assholes bought me my Jeep. They just keep giving me their cash.” Kitty beams, getting to the bar and counting out her winnings.
“What’s your secret?” I ask, putting up two fingers to Diamond. She’s helping out behind the bar tonight.
“Math.” Kitty winks, then shoves the wedge of cash into my hand.
“What the fuck?” I jerk back.
“You helped by distracting them. Your tits fill that top out way more than mine ever could. Keep it too.”
“I’m not taking your money.” I thrust it back at her and wave a hand down myself. “You’ve done enough for me. I’m once again wearing your clothes, and drinking on your dime.” I hold up the glass Diamond just filled. A shrill cackle sends my hairs raising.
Georgina’s all over Callan, laughing, throwing her head back and forth like a mechanical bull. I wonder what he’s giving her to keep her mouth shut about who I am. And why he’s now keeping the secret too.
She whispers something into his ear and lingers there. My fist clenches around the glass.
“Let’s do shots,” Kitty says, trying to distract me.
“Let’s not,” I retort. She’s had more than enough, and her mindset is fragile. She’ll end up doing something she regrets or crying all night.
“I’ll do shots with you.” Percy thumps his hand on the bar.
“Let’s do pussy shots!” someone else bellows. Lifting a brunette onto the bar, her ass balancing on the edge, Percy joins him with dragging her panties down her legs, relieving her of the only piece of clothing she had on. Other brothers crowd around. She leans back as the prospect behind the bar holds a bottle of tequila between her tits and pours the liquid. The path flows down her abdomen, pooling in her belly button, and trickling down over her shaved pussy. One by one, they take turns between her thighs, swallowing the liquid dripping there.
Knocking back a shot of tequila, Kitty throws her hands up and sashays backward toward the dancefloor, wall-to-wall with leather and sin. “Stay where I can see you,” I shout over the crowd.
“Yes, mom.” She snorts.
“You want company, sweet ass?” That fucking term again. The yeti grins, moving into my space and showing a row of white teeth with one missing. I can’t tell if he’s good looking or not under all that facial hair, but he has pretty eyes. “I’ve been on the road. A warm cunt to sink into would be so, so nice.” The horse cock of a dildo comes to mind, and my thighs squeeze closed.
“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” My smile is deathly sweet. A bark of laughter booms from him, making me startle.
“I bet you like a fist in your cunt, don’t ya?” He winks, then picks up his beer and moves to one of the blonde triplets who just approached the bar to collect a tray of drinks.
“Hey, sweet ass,” he croons. She smiles back at him like it’s a compliment.
Searching the room, I push my way through the sweaty bodies, on the hunt for Kitty. Georgina’s shoulder barges into me, and I lose my balance before righting myself. “Really?” I snap.
“Why are you still here?” she asks, glaring at me.
“Me? Didn’t you get thrown out?” I have to lean in to make sure she can hear me over the noise.
Jerking her hand forward, she chucks a full glass of red wine down my top. “Oops. Slipped.”
“You fucking whore.” I grit out.
“Careful, Princess, I know your secret.”
Fuck her. I lunge, digging my fingernails into her windpipe. Her ass hits the lip of a nearby table. Her back crashes across it, knocking drinks to the floor. The occupants leap to their feet to avoid the splash. I climb over her, smashing my bottle against the wood edge, almost slipping in the liquid. Pushing the glass into the supple skin of her neck, I grin like a sociopath.
“Who can you tell if I slit your vocal cords?” She claws at my arm, her eyes wild. “You ever threaten me again, I’ll kill you,” I warn her.
Strong arms encompass my waist, yanking me away from her. Callan’s scent engulfs me as Grease pulls Georgina to her feet. I want to lean into Callan, surround myself in him, but I remove myself from his grip. “She started it,” I defend.
“No fighting in the club. You know the rules.”
The rules are ridiculous. She needs put in her place. Preferably, far away from me.
“Not the entertainment I came for, but good nonetheless,” the yeti booms.
“You’re a fucking psycho!” Georgina screeches, frantically touching her throat and checking her hands for blood. My knees sting. My heart pumps out of control. I feel crazed and unsettled with her knowing my secret and having power over me.
“Georgina, come on.” Callan reaches a hand out for her to grasp.
Her.
I stare at his back as he leaves the room to help a limping Georgina. I didn’t touch her damn foot, why the hell is she limping!
Fuck this .
I march down the hall to Kitty’s room and knock lightly before opening the door, half expecting to find her crashed out on the bed, but it’s empty. Her shit is all over the place, but her room offers me comfort. Closing the door, I flick the lock, then whip the top over my head and kick off the jeans she loaned me, dumping them in a laundry basket by the door with Kitty’s dirty clothes strewn around it.
If the wine doesn’t come out, I’ll have to get it dry cleaned and bill that hostile witch. I move to her dresser and swipe a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt out just as a door opens across the room.
“What the fuck?” Kitty’s voice rings out, her tone coated with the buzz of alcohol.
“What the fuck?” I repeat back to her.
She’s come from her en suite naked with Tim standing behind her.
“Rogue.” She swallows, pointing a finger toward me. “What the fuck is that tattoo?”
Even knowing exactly what she’s talking about, my head drops down to look all the same.
Dammit.