Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Serenity
Ishould have left Colorado the minute I knew my family had followed me here. But for the past few years they’ve left me alone … for the most part. The calls asking for money never really stopped, but I got better at ignoring them.
Mr. Johnson is dead because I let their mayhem tail me a little too closely.
The entire drive north, I ride a rollercoaster of emotions, stuffing each one down as soon as it rises. Did the Scorpions kill my brother? Surely not. Why would they murder someone who owed them money?
Because he didn’t pay up.
I couldn’t pay either, so why didn’t they do the same to me?
You know why.
My heart begins to race the closer I get to Cheyenne. Do I really think I can pull this off? Not really. I’m not a particularly good liar. I like honesty. It makes life so much easier, which in return keeps things peaceful. I sigh loudly knowing that peace isn’t going to come to me any time soon.
I’m not sure I can handle this kind of lifestyle again. My hand searches my bag, looking for the prescription bottle I always keep nearby. It’s my plan B if plan A doesn’t work out.
The unease in my gut eats at me and eats at me.
This is the feeling I’ve tried so hard to avoid.
Those horrible knots in your stomach that never loosen.
I’d finally just untied them from my childhood.
But I can’t even blame my brother for passing his problems off on me.
He lived how we were taught. He doesn’t … didn’t know anything else.
It only takes a few hours to get to Cheyenne. Not nearly long enough to wrap my head around this insane idea, so I drive downtown, trying to get a feel for the place. It’s Wyoming’s biggest town, but it’s not very big at all. Not that I mind. In fact, it’s what I prefer. Not that I’ll be staying.
I pull up the address the Scorpions gave me. It’s a few miles outside of town. I was hoping to meet the leader of the Royal Bastards in a more public setting, but when I get there, I see it’s just a bar. At least there will be other people around.
I park beside a few trees, and then I flip the visor down to put on a little makeup. Maybe this will be easier than I think. Not that I’m thinking about anything. I don’t really have a plan. Which is probably stupid.
My mind wanders to Mr. Johnson lying in a pool of his own blood. What advice would he offer me right now?
He would tell me to go in there and be honest with this Chase guy.
I take a deep breath. Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I mean, who am I trying to fool? I’m not the type of girl to … well, to do whatever it takes. Not since I left my mom’s. Since then, I’ve developed boundaries, and I’m not going to cross them.
When I step inside the bar, every set of eyes in the room turns in my direction.
This is a mistake.
The bartender waves me over. “What can I get you, little lady?”
His smile instantly relaxes me. “I’ll just take whatever diet soda you have,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “You came in here …” he swirls his finger in a circle, “for a diet soda?”
I laugh and sit down at the bar. “Uh, yeah. I’ve been on the road all day and I’m thirsty, but I don’t drink alcohol.”
He cracks open a can of Diet Coke and pushes it across the bar before sliding me a full glass of ice.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a small sip while digging in my purse for my wallet.
The ten-dollar bill Mr. Johnson gave me catches my attention, and for a brief moment I feel like I’m going to have a complete breakdown.
I push it to the side, forcing myself to stay focused.
“I was wondering if you happened to know a Chase Turner.”
“Who did you say you were looking for?”
“Um, Chase Turner,” I answer nervously.
He laughs, tipping his head toward the darkest corner of the bar. “He’s right over there, sweetie, but calling him by his government name might get you ...” He pauses to draw a finger across his throat.
I glance over my shoulder, finding the president of the Royal Bastards watching us with a stillness that is unsettling. “What should I call him then?”
“Folks around here call him Rage.”
My head spins back around. “Rage?”
The older man runs his fingers through his greying beard while studying me. “I think you might be a little out of your element here.”
“You think?” I say, staring at the drink in front of me. “On second thought, could you add something a little stronger.”
He chuckles under his breath, pulling the glass toward him and adding a golden-brown whiskey to it. “There you go. One shot of liquid courage.”
“Make it two.”
His eyebrow rises as he gives me a little more. I stir it up and take a good swig before turning around. The man in the corner is still looking at me, so I give him a tiny wave. He doesn’t acknowledge me whatsoever, but the scowl on his face intensifies.
“What do I owe you?” I ask, shifting my focus back to the kinder looking man in front of me.
The bartender shoves a toothpick in his mouth and rests his arms on the counter as I grab my wallet.
“You do know this isn’t a public bar, don’t ya?”
I stop what I’m doing to look around me. “What do you mean? It looks like a regular bar.”
“It is, just not for ordinary folks like you.”
My heart stops. “Oh … oh … my gosh. I’m so sorry. I thought …”
The toothpick shifts to the other side of his mouth. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not the first time someone’s stumbled across us accidentally.”
My shoulders fall. “I feel so silly. I’ll just finish this and be on my way.”
He nods slowly. “I suppose that would be okay, except I know you aren’t here by accident.”
“I am. I mean, this looks like a bar. It is a bar,” I say a bit snippier than is probably safe at this point.
Two young guys sidle up on each side of me. My head bounces between the two of them. They’re twins.
“What do we have here?” one of them asks the bartender.
He pops the tops off of two beer bottles while explaining that I’m claiming to have found their bar by accident.
They both shrug, easily believing my charade.
“But she forgot that when she came in here, she asked if I knew Chase.”
“Who’s Chase?” the other twin questions.
The bartender shakes his head while the first brother reaches behind me to smack him in the back of the head. “Prez, you dumbass.”
He rubs his hand over his hair. “Fuck. How was I supposed to know that?”
“Right?” I agree before slamming the rest of my drink. “Well, that was refreshing. I’ll just be on my way.”
I keep my eyes focused on the door as I hurry outside.
When I get back in my car, I let my head fall against the seat. I can’t take this kind of stress. I just can’t do this.
I pull the prescription bottle from my purse and begin shoving pills one at a time into my mouth.
Suddenly, the door swings open, and a firm hand wraps around my arm, pulling me out of the vehicle. The bottle falls from my fingers, and pills scatter everywhere.
“Count them,” Chase barks at the other men.
He shoves me to my knees, falling to his beside me. He grabs my face roughly in one of his hands, forcing me to open my mouth and release the pills.
His big finger sweeps my cheeks as I try to push away from him. “Stop,” I mumble.
That’s all I get out before two of his fingers are shoved directly down my throat. Instantly, I gag. He holds my hair in his fist as I throw up in the gravel lot. The Diet Coke burns as it comes up, bringing with it two of the white pills I had managed to swallow.
“There’s twenty-eight here, Prez. We’re only missing two.”
Rage doesn’t seem to care that all the pills are accounted for because he shoves his fingers down my throat a second time. I heave again, this time bringing up nothing but bile.
He wipes my spit from his hand against his jeans while keeping his fist around my hair. His gaze bounces over my face, and I’m not going to lie. It’s terrifying.
“Give me the bottle,” he orders whoever is behind us.
While he’s reading the label, I shift my legs under myself, trying to take the pressure off my scalp. “You’ve been hanging on to these for a long time … Serenity,” he says, his dark eyes narrowing on my green ones.
“Yeah, um, you know.” I pause to clear my throat. “I was just waiting for a special occasion.”
I’m panting, fighting for each breath while he remains quiet and calm. Eventually he releases me and stands. He walks around my car, looking inside.
“She asked for you by name,” the bartender says, throwing me under the bus.
I wait for his rage to come, but it doesn’t.
“Take her shit over to the Inn. Let her clean up, and then bring her to me,” he says before walking away.
Slowly, I push myself to my feet as he kicks his leg over his bike. When it roars to life, I start to back away.
The bartender looks at the two identical brothers. “Don’t fuck this up,” he warns them, shaking his finger in their faces before heading back inside.
I turn and run, but let’s be honest, I would have to take ten steps to equal one of theirs.
“My name is Cole,” one of them says, snatching me around the waist and lifting my feet from the ground.
“I’m Carson,” the other says. “Do you think you can keep her on your bike? I’ll take her car to town.” He walks over and slides the driver’s seat of my car all the way back before getting in and starting it.
“You can’t just take my car!” I yell, my feet peddling as if I’m still on the ground.
“She won’t be going anywhere,” he says, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.
His brother laughs. “Always prepared.”
“You know it.”
He drops me on the back of his bike. I wave my arms around wildly, trying to evade his cuffs, but it’s no use. When one end clicks around my wrist, my stomach falls.
My gaze is caught on the cuff around my wrist as he tugs on the other end, locking it to the beltloop on his pants. His mouth turns down in a frown. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. “I just can’t risk you jumping off.”