Chapter Eight
Of course it wasn’t a small enough safe for me to move on my own, or probably even with a couple of men, who weren’t off their fucking faces right now.
Shit. What the hell was I supposed to do now?
There was no way to get a call out, and no possible way to find the jammer, because that fucker could be small, and up high somewhere.
Still… depending on where it was, there might be a fucking dead spot, as in maybe somewhere on the grounds I could get a call out.
I dug out my phone and groaned at the battery power, more than half drained, probably by trying to reach for a fucking non-existent signal constantly.
Okay, new plan. I’d head to the edges of the compound and keep trying, and failing that, I’d head out of the gates and up the lane.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t considered that already, it was just that I didn’t want to fucking leave them without protection, any of them, that is, and if I opened the gates, what if some of them got out?
They were all dangerous liabilities right now.
A threat to themselves and others. Anyone on this kind of hallucinogenic is unpredictable and deadly, but bikers?
Men who loved to fight and brawl, and were sometimes adept at killing?
You didn’t want them running loose without their faculties.
I hurried back to the door, and ran outside without even fucking checking first, and that was my first mistake, or the first since I tried moving a safe big enough to hold a fucking person.
Something hit me hard in the face, and I went down like a sack of potatoes. My vision swam briefly, but I could tell someone was leaning over me.
“Couldn’t just fucking get drunk like the others, could ya?” Something slammed into my face again, and the lights went out.
Micro
Something was wrong, and I knew that for several reasons.
First of all, everywhere I looked, I saw Soph, dead, displayed in pieces, or just sprawled grotesquely, like her being dead wasn’t enough of a fucking horror show.
Also my dad kept following me, calling me pathetic, a loser, a waste of space.
A load my dead mama should have swallowed, or better yet, spat out on the floor and pissed on.
You get the point. I knew it wasn’t possible.
Because I knew that fucker was dead, and that meant, hopefully, maybe, I was also seeing things that weren’t true about Sophie.
I felt like I was trapped in a bubble of unreality, but clarity kept finding a way though, even if it didn’t last.
After Stitch landed on both of us, and I heard something crunch, I waited for the pain to erupt, but it wasn’t me who broke something. One of them groaned, either Stitch or Torch, and I sat up, wondering if it was even safe to move them, while knowing I couldn’t move without doing just that.
“Pussy. A real man would just fucking get up. Is it any wonder I was so ashamed of you?”
I ignored my ghost of a father, because I could only deal with so much hell right now, and that cunt was dead.
“Stitch? Torch?”
I dragged a hand over my eyes, finding it bloody when I lowered it. Great. Was it my blood or theirs? If it was mine, wouldn’t I fucking feel the pain?
“Pathetic,” my dad spat, smacking the back of my head, and that fucking hurt. He shouldn’t be able to do that. Nope. I’d fallen back against the hard ground, and smacked it myself. Jesus fuck.
“What…” I heard Stitch, and that was a relief, because at least he was fucking alive.
“Stitch?”
“Did I do it? I flew… I really flew, didn’t I?”
Fuck me. He was doing worse than me.
“Can you get off my fucking leg, you stupid, dumb, fucking asshole!” Torch suddenly yelled out, and when Stitch tried to move, he gasped, hissing in a sharp breath, as whatever had crunched reminded him of his injury.
“Shit.”
“Stitch?” He stared around him, suddenly having a little more clarity than he’d had, when he launched himself off a fucking building. I sat up again, and saw him gripping his shoulder with the other arm.
“You hurt?”
I looked around us, my stomach rolling as a dead Sophie seemed to be on either side of me. Every time I saw her, it crushed a little more of my fucking soul.
“You killed her,” my father whispered in my ear, and I flicked my hand at him to send him away.
“He’s not real, brother… uh… man…” Torch said quietly, sliding out from under both of us to help Stitch move.
“I think he’s hurt,” I said unnecessarily, and Torch snorted.
“Yeah, that’s what happens when dumb cunts jump off buildings with no fucking wings.”
“I have wings,” Stitch said instantly, then frowned, “what the fuck? Did I just say I have wings?”
“Yeah, and you tried to fly, man.”
I pointed at the building, again, pretty unnecessarily, since it was the only one close enough to be his attempted fucking launch point.
“You jumped off there.”
Stitch tried to turn to follow my pointing finger, and groaned again, lowering his head.
“My shoulder’s dislocated. Fuck!”
I took in the grim look on Torch’s face, and knew what he was thinking. We’d always been like that. Like we had one brain, at least until mine was clouded by so much fucking twisted hate, that I lost my mind.
“Lemme get behind him,” I said, scrambling to my feet, as I felt my dad’s twisted energy following me.
“Waste of space. Shoulda killed you when you were born.”
I turned to glare at him, wishing he’d shut the hell up, and go back to hell where he belonged.
“Why didn’t you, huh? Why didn’t you just fucking kill me then? You’re such a big fucking man, but you’d kill a baby? You sick fucking-”
“Micro, there’s nobody there, fuckhead. Can you give me a hand?”
“Who’s he yelling at?” Stitch asked, and Torch groaned.
“He’s hallucinating, man, just like you were. Yeah, that’s it, brace yourself, VP, this is gonna hurt.”
We worked together to snap Stitch’s shoulder back into place, and he gasped out a string of curses, as it hurt like a bitch. It wasn’t gonna stop hurting anytime soon either, but at least he was back in one piece.
“Coulda been worse, man. You jumped off a building,” I said, as I backed off and let Torch help him up.
I nearly fell over Sophie’s corpse, as it seemed to be behind me now, and even though I was starting to realise it wasn’t real, I still felt the air rush out of my lungs, and the horror hit me, just like if it was actually real, if she was really dead. Why was my mind torturing me like this?
“Baby,” I groaned, dropping to my knees beside her. I reached out, and then froze. What if I touched her, and she was really there this time? What if she really was dead, and I just thought I was hallucinating it?
“Dammit, Micro, there’s nobody there!” Torch yelled as he dragged me to my feet again, turning me to face him. Tears burned my eyes, and I dragged the back of my hand over my face.
“How am I supposed to know what’s real? I’m so fucking lost, man. Help me.”
He swallowed hard, turning to see Stitch wandering away, and catching the back of his cut in his fist.
“Fuck’s sake. I can’t fix both of you, but we need help, yeah?
I’m the only sober one out of the three of us, and that really sucks, because I’m not exactly the hero type, so can you just try and focus on the three of us, and getting to safety?
Your dad’s not here, and whoever you keep seeing dead, I assume that’s Sophie?
” I nodded, and he continued, “I promise you, she’s not anywhere near us right now, so if you see her again, don’t go there.
She’s okay, but she’s here somewhere, and she needs you. ”
“I need to save her, man. She’s having my baby, and I can’t lose either of them.”
“Huh?” Stitch spun to face us, as Torch couldn’t fight the smile on his face.
“Yeah? Congrats, man. So let’s go find your family, okay? Stay with me here.”
I think a little more clarity returned just then, seeing actual genuine happiness on Torch’s face, for me, for my news.
Maybe there was still time to save what was left of our friendship after all.
Suddenly my dad’s voice was barely permeating my senses, as we headed off together, to find our old ladies, and save the rest of the fucking club.
If only it was that easy, right? The sound of a gunshot made us freeze in place for a moment, as we tried to figure out where it came from, and if one of us had been hit.
Torch
Honestly, the longer I was around the fucker, and the more I saw how tortured he was, by whatever the fuck he was seeing, as in his psycho old man taunting him, and visions of his dead wife, I feel like my hate for him dissipated a little.
I mean, he was still the fucker who stuck a knife in my back, and attacked my woman, and my family, but the more I heard about his life, the more I could understand how badly he’d been messed up by that shit.
After he was taken, Ice and me, we hacked into his entire life, at least as much as we could get our hands on, because the fucker was savvy with tech himself, and well, yeah, we found out some shit we didn’t know. How we didn’t know, I have no idea, but take his medical records, for example.
Since it wasn’t against the rules, the Doc hadn’t raised it with anyone, but Micro’s blood showed some interesting shit.
Not only was the fucker on steroids, and yeah, that’s not that uncommon among alpha types, but he was also sporting some seriously fucking high testosterone levels.
The fucker was taking all kinds of shit to bulk him up, but that stuff messes with everything, including personality and mental state, and doesn’t that just mean he had even less chance of acting like a normal, decent person?
I wasn’t making excuses for him, I mean, sometimes I swear I could still feel that fucking knife in me, but maybe I didn’t need to hate him forever for it.
I dunno, maybe this fucked up night was just messing with my head too, and who could blame me, right?
We headed for the building holding Grease’s office, because we needed to see what the fuck was going on and that fucker always had his finger on the pulse here, assuming he wasn’t off climbing the fucking walls, like spiderman or something.
We had no idea who had a fucking gun, or who, or what, they were shooting at, but this shit was getting dangerous.
Someone crashed into me, knocking me on my ass, and turned to curse me out, and I vaguely recognised him as a member of the new Hampshire chapter, but he punched me, and that was the end of my fucking pause to try and figure out who he was.
“Fucker!” I lunged back at him, finally letting out my frustration by burying my fist in his ugly mug, and then Micro was dragging him away from me.
“Get fucked!” he yelled in the guy’s face, and what do you know? The prick tried punching him too, and Micro laid him out with a filthy uppercut.
“I don’t have time for this shit!” He yelled, looking more sober by the fucking minute.
Now that he and Stitch were acting less like they were on a bad trip, it would be easier to get out of this mess, right?
We just had to find the person who’d fired that gun, and Jesus fuck, whoever may have been hit by a stray bullet.
Reacher
My woman was fucking delicious, and I couldn’t stop devouring that sweet pussy of hers, no matter how much she pulled at my hair to try and drag me up on her, so I could bury my cock in it instead.
All that mattered was her, and pleasuring her for the rest of our fucking lives.
“Reacher, please, dammit… give me that cock!”
I lifted my head at last, swiping my tongue over my lips to catch the last heady drops of her flavour.
“You know what, woman? You get it when I fucking say so. You gonna squirt if I keep tongue-fucking you?”
Her eyes widened at me, and a wicked grin appeared.
“Only one way to find out, old man, get your mouth back down there where it belongs.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ally
It was the weirdest thing, but something strange had happened to me.
I mean, deep down inside, I think I knew I was tripping or something, because the air isn’t usually purple, and tasting of my man’s fucking cum, but I was loving it.
I must have fallen asleep because I woke up in his arms, and then we were desperate to be naked together, and why the hell wouldn’t we?
Reacher’s tongue delved inside me, and the fucking choir of angels began to sing, as another orgasm roared through me, and my back arched up from the ground.
Like I say, deep down somewhere, I knew there were no fucking angels, just like I knew Reacher’s cum wasn’t the air I shouldn’t be gasping desperate mouthfuls of, but was I about to knock this?
“Still not squirting, woman, let’s go again,” Reacher murmured, burying his face between my legs again, devouring me like a fucking starving man at an all you can eat buffet. I’m that buffet, and I hope he never stops eating.