Chapter Twelve
Caius
“G et up.”
I wake, dazed and completely confused, reeking of my own body odor. A young man who looks a lot like that Copper guy motions for me to move with his Glock in hand. The kid reminds me of Theo.
My chest aches, but I shove it away. There’s no time to worry about my brother. This shitshow I’ve landed myself in takes precedence.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I stretch my arms that have been untied.
It’s morning now and the sun sneaks its way into the building I’m in. I’m not sure what the original purpose of the hulled out building was, but now it’s missing walls and is apparently used for interrogation, and most likely torture. If a cut to the neck and a bruised head are all I got while here, I’m counting myself lucky.
The kid has a patch that says “Nees.” I’m guessing that’s his name. Why do bikers all have stupid names anyway? Copper, Koyn, Bermuda, Dragon, and now Nees. Now all we need are Tweedledee and Tweedledumbfuck to round out the Seven Not-Dwarves. LuLu could pass for Snow White. I’m not liking this dynamic.
“You’re to get cleaned up at the clubhouse,” Nees says, pointing in a direction outside of the building. “Meeting at nine. Don’t be late or I’ll sic Dragon on you.”
I don’t want this Dragon psychopath anywhere near me. That dude creeps me the fuck out.
Unsteadily, because of sleeping in a wooden chair all night, I stumble after the kid. I’m technically taller than him and have more muscle, but he seems scrappy. My attempt to take him out could either be a success or a horrible failure. If it were just me, I’d chance it. They have LuLu, though, so I can’t get myself killed and leave her with these strangers.
Once outside of the building, I squint against the bright morning light as though I’m a vampire being forced to face his death. The early morning summer sun warms my face, and I don’t catch on fire, so I suppose I’ll live. My eyes adjust as we make our way across a large field.
To the right is a massive, expensive-ass home with a pool and a giant deck area. An open garage is to the left of it. Garage bays on both sides allow air to pass through. Inside, there are several motorcycles—Harleys if I had to guess—with a couple of guys standing around. A hefty guy with a cigarette in his mouth waves at Nees. Nees flips him off in return.
We pass by a huge firepit. Handcrafted Adirondack chairs litter the area around it. Several picnic tables dot the space around that. And near the tree line is a volleyball court with sand.
What kind of bougie biker summer camp is this place?
Finally, at one end of the property, near more trees, is what must be the clubhouse. It looks like an extension of the massive one I first saw, but maybe less ornate and more functional. Nees walks inside, not bothering to hold the door for me. I push inside and am met with glorious air conditioning. I groan in relief.
I miss the Pacific Northwest already.
We don’t even need the AC half the time.
Oklahoma may as well be the armpit of hell.
Or maybe that’s just the smell coming from my body.
The interior of the clubhouse is rustic in decor. There’s a full bar and pool table just off the main living room area. Nees goes down a long hallway and then disappears into a room on the right.
“This one’s you,” he says, jabbing a finger at the bed where my suitcase sits. “Shower’s in there.”
I stand inside the bedroom that’s decorated with football shit. Gareth was the football guy. Organized sports bore me.
“Hope you like OU,” Nees says with a snort. “It’s the stupidest room in this place. Don’t tell my mom. She had a hand in decorating this as a favor to Dad.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, voice raspy from having sweat out every last drop of moisture in my body. “What the fuck is going on? One second you people are threatening to cut my throat and now I’m a welcomed guest of a frat boy Airbnb ran by strangely named bikers?”
Nees barks out a laugh. “It’s a wonder you’re still alive with that mouth on you. Dragon’s getting soft in his old age. I blame Cove. That maniac is dick whipped over his ‘Baby Prospect.’”
Again, this kid speaks in riddles.
“Look,” Nees says with a one-shouldered shrug. “If they wanted you gone, you’d be gone. My advice to you is to clean up and dial back the attitude. Bermuda has breakfast going. I’ll bring you back something.”
“What about LuLu?”
He smirks. “PG and Stormy are mother-henning her. She’s good. At the big house, they have her in a room by the nursery, catering to her every whim.”
“LuLu doesn’t have whims. She just wants her iPad, snacks, a comfy chair, and to be left alone.”
“I’ll pass that on, dude. Shower. My eyes are watering.”
Once he leaves, I shut the door behind him. My mind races with escape plans, but the truth is, I’m outnumbered by these men. LuLu is in their home and being looked after. They seemed to be pissed off at the thought of me being her kidnapper or whatever the fuck they thought. There may be more to these men than meets the eye.
The shower is spacious and nice. And, thankfully, not one piece of OU memorabilia in sight. My clothes, soaked with sweat, have to be peeled from my body. I should toss them in the firepit later.
I groan under the icy spray of water, letting it quickly cool me off before turning the water to a relaxing hot. Unused toiletries like soap, shampoo, shaving cream, and even a fresh razor await me. Because I’m spoiled and used to excess, I take advantage of each and every one. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend my life is back to normal.
What is normal, though?
Searching for Calista. My sister that doesn’t exist. All along it was a damn doll. The real girl I couldn’t get out of my head was Romy.
It’s so obvious now.
I haven’t felt so clearheaded since before my parents’ deaths. It’s as if I’m finally dragging myself out of a lifelong fog and seeing the world for the first time.
Living at my nice home, doing nefarious work in an effort to find my sister, is not my normal. It’s an unfortunate past. All that matters now is the future.
Get LuLu to her family.
Find Romy.
And…
My stomach tightens. Kaitlyn. Where in the hell is the little girl Gareth adopted? The memories are packed in tight and now it’s a matter of sorting through them. As much as I want to dissect the hows and whys, my mind keeps looping back to Romy.
Her mouth is decadent. Swollen, pink lips. Sweet taste of vanilla on her tongue. Breathy moans when kissed just right.
I stop soaping my body to look down at my erect cock. How long has it been since I had sex? Was it the last time I was with Romy?
Fake fiancée.
The thought is abrupt, and I don’t like it. I can tell it’s a real memory, but the feelings burning hot through my veins say otherwise. Gripping my cock with my soapy hand, I close my eyes to see Romy more clearly.
She’s stunning, lying naked on a hotel bed. Her pussy is red from taking me all night long. Hickeys litter her breasts that I’ve feasted on with desperate hunger.
I love fucking this woman.
Her tight body is heaven as it sucks my cock inside of her, clenching needily around my thickness. And when I’m spent, having come hard inside her, I like leaving my flaccid cock right where it is. When I’m nestled in her tight, hot body, my cock warmed by our combined juices, it feels so fucking right.
I bite my lip so hard it stings and I’m snapped from my thoughts of Romy. I’m not inside of her body, but my own hand instead. It doesn’t stop me from stroking my cock hard and with a punishing grip, trying like hell to recreate the exhilarating sensation of being with her.
God, I miss her.
Romy, love, I’m coming for you.
There’s nothing fake about how I feel for her. It may have started as a ruse, but when we were separated, it was as real as it could get. Now that I’m rousing those memories, I ache for this woman. It fucking hurts.
I close my eyes again, this time using both hands to jerk off, squeezing and twisting, desperately extracting every zing of pleasure I can get.
And it’ll never be enough because she’s not here.
Her laugh echoes in my head and that’s what sends me over the edge. I come with a ragged groan, splattering the wall near me. When I finally wring out every last drop, I stand hunched under the spray of the water, exhausted and fucking sad.
I’m going to find her.
And no one is taking her from me ever again.
Nees made good on his promise of food. I inhaled it after a much-needed shower and feel more like myself. Now that I’m in the big house, at least I’m closer to seeing LuLu.
“This way,” Nees says as we walk through the house.
I’m stunned at the lavishness of these bikers. In the movies I’d seen, they’d all been a rough crowd, and quite frankly, trashy. These guys are making bank somehow and that interests me.
“We have Church over at the clubhouse, but to be honest, we vibe better over here,” Nees explains as we enter what appears to be a conference room. “Prez and Bermuda nerd out big time here.”
The massive table that stretches out along the rectangular-shaped room is smooth mahogany and had to have cost a fortune, probably more than most people’s cars. These guys are definitely not hurting for cash.
“Sit there,” Nees says, pointing to a chair. “I’ll rally up the guys. Want something to drink?”
I frown at him. “I’ll take a bottle of water.”
Nees cracks up laughing. “Dude, you’re hilarious. I’m not your bitch. There’s a minifridge over there.” He points to the corner of the room. “Get it yourself. Also, there’s no water. I think there may be a Corona left or one of those stupid Redbull drinks Dragon likes.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. “I’m good. What about LuLu? Can I see her?”
“I’m sure Prez will let you see her after he gets what he needs from you.”
I’m not sure I like the sound of that.
He’s only gone for a minute before voices rumble from nearby. Then, like I’m watching Sons of Anarchy or some shit, a bunch of guys with varying lengths of beards and numbers of tattoos come ambling in. I may have been able to hold my own with Nees, but some of these guys could break me without even trying.
A man with golden hair and dashing good looks sneers at me as he passes. His patch says VP on it. I’m guessing he’s number two in this gang. More big dudes pass, taking seats all around me. A man with manic eyes with his arm slung over the shoulders of a soft, blond man saunters in, completely focused on the guy in his clutches.
Then the manic one looks at me.
Somehow, I know he’s Dragon.
He grins, flashing perfect white teeth at me. “Nice cut, John Boy.”
I grit my teeth, annoyed by the fact the crazy, devilish one who wanted to gut me looks like a fucking angel. A dark, twisted one, but there’s still something terrifyingly beautiful about him.
Ignoring him, I find the leader of this motley crew. Koyn, or Prez, takes a seat at the head of the table, dark eyes boring into me. I stiffen my back and affix him with my most apathetic stare. It served me once before, so maybe it’ll serve me again. Showing my anger sure as hell doesn’t get me anywhere.
Koyn flips open a laptop he’s set on the desk and tears his gaze from mine as he types something. Then he motions for the guy next to me to push toward me my own laptop that I’d noticed was missing from my bag after my shower.
I glance over at the guy. Bermuda. Same guy from last night with the laptop. He must be the brains of this operation.
“I don’t know what kind of security you’ve got on that thing, but I’ve never come across it in all my days of doing this shit. Let us in.”
I’m not sure what it is they’re looking for, but at this point, I have nothing to hide. Memories of my entire time with my father, and then the past several months, have all come together to make a twisted image.
I wasn’t just tortured by a doctor who wanted to break my mind.
It’d been done for the sole purpose of turning me into a person I was designed to be. My father—Orion Crowne—was behind that creation. He was a puppet master, pulling each and every string, including Romy.
I’ve taken a blade much sharper than Dragon’s to his hold on me, severing me from the fucked-up plans of my adoptive father.
Now that I’m free, I want to make him pay.
“It’s not a static password,” I explain as I check my watch and then type in a password. “I created a program that cycles through variables. If it’s nine in the morning on a Tuesday, the password is different than that of a Wednesday night.”
Other variables include things like temperature or weather. It’s a lot to memorize, but it makes hacking damn near impossible.
“Holy sheeeeet,” a tubby guy with a beard says and then elbows the guy beside him. “They make ’em even smarter than Prez and Bermuda. Didn’t think that shit was possible.”
As soon as I have access to my computer, I flip it around and then slide it across the table to Koyn. “You’re in. Get whatever it is you’re after and then let me see LuLu.”
Koyn’s eyes narrow as he snatches the laptop. “You don’t get to make demands, Johnny.”
“Caius,” I grit out. “And, from what I’ve gathered, I think our agendas may align.”
Dragon lets go of his lover boy and leans forward, flashing me a predatory grin. “You want to disembowel men who steal kids and women and use them for depraved shit? John Boy, you’re sicko behind those fancy clothes. You’re like the gift that keeps on giving.”
I tear my gaze from his to meet Koyn’s shrewd one. “More or less,” I agree, “but with the precision of a scalpel. You people have been hacking off tails. I can give you the head of the king cobra.”
“Is that so?” Koyn drawls out.
“Yeah, man. And you two share the same title.”
“President Huxley.” Koyn scratches thoughtfully at his beard. “You’re chummy with that piece of shit?”
“I was his unwilling patient after my parents died and then dumped off on Orion Crowne when he couldn’t break my mind like he wanted. His tentacles reach far and wide.” I cross my arms and smirk. “And my woman’s father is Gideon Langston. Our fathers and Huxley are the trifecta of evil doing their damnedest to control the world.”
If we take them out, then this shit finally ends.