Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Lola
I jolt awake, heart pounding as my eyes dart around the dark room, wondering what the heck woke me up.
Pushing the throw blanket off, I get to my feet and look around the living room.
I can just make out the end table next to the couch where I fell asleep, the book I’d been reading still on top of it with a candy wrapper between the pages acting as a bookmark.
I hear a noise and freeze, holding my breath as I listen.
When I don’t hear anything else, I head toward the kitchen—where the knives are.
I don’t know if someone’s actually in my house or if it’s just my brain playing tricks on me, but either way, I’ll feel a whole lot safer with a weapon in my hand.
It’s only as I step through the doorway that I notice a dim light.
It takes me a second to realize that the light’s coming from the fridge—someone’s left the door open.
Before I can react, a hand wraps around my throat and teeth bite my earlobe, making me yelp.
“You miss me, baby?” he slurs, the smell of alcohol on his breath so strong it makes my eyes water.
“Driller?” I choke out as he pulls me out of the kitchen, his grip on my throat making it hard to breathe.
.
Circling in front of me, he slams me into the wall.
“Were you expectin’someone else?” he snarls, pinning me in place.
“No, of course not. It’s just that everyone’s been looking for you.”
“An’ by ‘everyone’... you mean your precious Havoc?”
Without warning, he backhands me across the face, his knuckles catching my eye.
. I whimper, my eye throbbing from the impact.
My only saving grace is that it wasn’t a punch because those hurt ten times worse.
“You need a fuckin’ reminder who you belong to, Lola? That it?”
He paws at my T-shirt, ripping it down the middle, exposing my chest. I turn my head and bite my lip to hold back both my tears and my cries for help—all they do is fuel him on.
His hands move to my arms, gripping them so hard I know I’ll be covered in bruises later.
Dipping his head, he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth before flicking it with his tongue.
I hold my breath until I start to feel lightheaded, and he savagely bites into the swell of my breast, ripping a scream from me that I have no chance of swallowing down.
“That’s it, baby. Only I can make you scream like that,” he groans as he grinds up against me.
His hand slips between us and yanks at my underwear until it rips.
I wince, biting my tongue as he strokes me before unfastening his jeans and pulling himself free.
The problem is, he’s not hard.
I don’t know if it’s because of the alcohol or if I just don’t do it for him anymore.
Either way, despite his best efforts, he can’t fuck me like he wants to.
I’m sure he’ll settle for fucking me up instead.
I brace for impact, praying that he sticks to what he’s been doing and leaves my stomach alone.
Surprising me, he shoves me aside instead.
I catch myself before I fall and stumble into the kitchen.
I scurry away, putting the island between us.
“You think Havoc gives a fuck ?bout you?” He shakes his head, looking at me with pity.
I’ve given up trying to reason with him, especially where Havoc’s concerned.
“The bastard that was upstairs fuckin’ his new whore in our bed?” He laughs—a cruel, ugly sound that grates on my already raw nerves.
I’m well aware of what Havoc and his old lady got up to in my bed.
I was the one who came home to find the evidence of their lovemaking on my sheets.
I spent the rest of the day throwing up, wondering how the boy I once loved turned into a man who could so easily hurt me like that.
“That’s why you’ve been sleepin’ on the couch, right?” He smirks, swaying slightly.
He’s right, of course—but how does he know?
My expression must give something away, because he snorts.
“Hadda make sure you didn’t go runnin’ back to him. R’member, Lola—I always got eyes on you.”
“I didn’t run, Driller. I wouldn’t.”
“I dunno know if that makes you smart or fuckin’ stupid.”
I do, but I keep my mouth shut.
“Yer lucky, though. If you’d run to Havoc, you’da risked yerself and my kid. I got plans for Havoc and the mother chapter, and I sure as shit ain’t changin’ ?em for you.”
Thoughts swirl in my head.
What exactly does he mean?
He has plans—plans to do what?
“Now don’t you go worryin’ yer pretty lil’ head ?bout the details, baby. Jus’ know… when me an’ Khan are done, there ain’t gonna be no more Havoc for you to cry over. Hell, if you’re into it, we’ll visit his damn grave—and I’ll fuck you right over it. Mark the occasion, you know?” He laughs loudly, stumbling over to the doorway.
“Be a good girl, Lola,” he slurs.
“An’ maybe you might just come outta this in one piece.” He winks before he staggers down the hallway and leaves, slamming the front door behind him.
The sound ricochets off the walls, making my heart beat wildly out of control as I stand frozen in shock.
I don’t know how long I stand there, but then my body starts shaking.
Holding the torn remains of my T-shirt together, I walk over to the fridge on shaky legs and close it.
Leaving the kitchen, I head upstairs, not entirely sure that my legs won’t give out.
I walk through the door to my room, and stop, staring at the bed.
Since I haven’t been sleeping in here, I never bothered to close the drapes.
They’re still wide open, and moonlight pours into the room, giving me plenty of light to see.
The bed’s stripped bare.
I throw sheets in the washer the second I got home, but looking at the mattress still turns my stomach.
I hate it here—this house, and the memories.
Every day I stay, I die a little more.
And with no other choice, I just let it happen.
But haven’t I suffered enough already?
I think about what Driller said, and his threats against Havoc, and shiver.
“Don’t do it, Lola. Don’t stick your neck out for someone who’d happily watch you hang,” I mutter, peeling off the ruined T-shirt and heading into the bathroom.
I turn the shower on as hot as I can stand and step under the water, scrubbing every inch of my body until my skin is red and raw.
Once I’m done, I turn the water off and climb out, drying off before dabbing some antibacterial ointment on the bite on my chest. I grit my teeth—it stings like a motherfucker, but the last thing I need is for it to become infected.
Blowing out a deep breath, I grip the edge of the sink and force myself to look in the mirror.
The area around my eye’s already swollen and starting to bruise, so I’ll have to stay in for a few days or cover it with makeup.
A sweatshirt with a high collar will hide everything else.
I walk back into the bedroom and stand next to the dresser, hesitating for a moment as my eyes drift over to the window and the big, bright moon staring back at me.
“Shit. Fuck. Dammit,” I curse.
I’m an idiot for doing this.
But I’m doing it anyway.
I pull on a pair of clean underwear and some ripped jeans that sit low enough on my hips to fasten them under my bump.
I don’t bother with a bra, knowing it will aggravate the bite.
Instead, I tug on a red tank top and then an oversize sweatshirt that hides my bump.
Walking over to the closet, I grab one of Driller’s baseball caps, tucking my hair under it before pulling it down over my head.
Then, from the back of the closet, I pull out the canvas messenger bag with the broken strap I’ve had since high school and carry it into the room that’s slowly becoming a nursery.
I started painting it yellow—something cheerful and neutral—before I found out I was having a boy.
Now, I’m tempted to repaint it a light green or a sky blue, then adding something bright to detract from the rest of this hellhole.
Shaking my head, I walk over to the toolbox I left sitting against the far wall and grab a screwdriver.
I take the paint tray from the steps of the ladder and lay it on the floor before dragging the ladder over to the air vent.
Climbing up carefully, I unscrew the vent cover and pull out the two items. Once the cover’s back in place, I climb down.
I put everything back where I found it and look around the room to make sure nothing seems out of place before shoving the items into my bag.
Hurrying downstairs, I take a bottle from the cupboard and fill it with water before grabbing a couple sleeves of crackers and tossing them into my bag.
Taking a deep breath, I consider backing out of this crazy idea, but I know I’ll never be able to live with the guilt if I don’t at least try.
So with that in mind, I head to the door, grabbing my sunglasses and wallet on the way.
I shove my feet into my beat-up Converse, then slowly ease the door open.
I look around, making sure the coast is clear, then slip outside and head to the garage.
It used to house Havoc’s prized possession—his dad’s bike—but now it’s where Driller keeps his beat-up old truck.
It’s seen better days, but at least it still runs.
Climbing in, I toss my bag on the passenger seat and pull down the sun visor, letting the keys drop into my sweaty palm.
As I shove them into the ignition, I acknowledge all the things that could go wrong with this stupid plan.
But I tell the voice in my head to shut up and carry on like the idiot I am anyway.
There are two ways in and out of the compound.
The front entrance leads straight to the clubhouse, where most people enter and exit.
It’s always guarded by a two-man team of rotating prospects, day and night, which is why I’ve never tried to slip out that way before.
The rear exit is much smaller and only really used for deliveries.
Usually, it’s guarded by one prospect—and the dogs.
If Driller snuck in, there’s no way he would’ve come through the front.
Too many people would’ve spotted him.
The back entrance, though, is generally empty at this time of night, except for the prospect.
As VP, Driller could’ve easily found out who was supposed to be on guard tonight and ordered them to stand down, not turn up at all or simply look the other way.
I have no idea why Khan and Driller aren’t here.
I half expect them to stroll in as if everything’s fine.
I’m not stupid, though.
Something’s clearly going on between them and the mother chapter, but anyone who knows is being tight-lipped about it.
The fact that they both went missing while Havoc and the brothers from the mother chapter were here, though, says a lot.
And I know I’m not the only one with questions.
It also makes me wonder if Acid and Knuckles are involved somehow.
It seems way too much of a coincidence for them to go nomad now—especially when they’re Driller and Khan’s biggest supporters.
Shit, what if the four of them are out there, planning to take over the mother chapter?
Then they’d never have to answer to anyone.
It’s that thought that forces me to continue.
I back out of the garage and head toward the rear exit, pulling my hat down low over my face.
The truck’s noisy as fuck, but the closest house is Khan’s—and since it’s empty right now, I’m not too worried.
I slow down when I get to the gates, but when I don’t see anyone standing there, I keep going.
Bandit and Smokey get to their feet, but they don’t move toward the truck.
They’re trained to keep people out, not to stop them from leaving.
It’s that—and the sensor on this side that opens the gate for approaching vehicles—that gets me out, though.
I’m not sure how I’ll get back inside later yet, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
I head into town, the deserted streets feel eerie at this hour.
But there’s one place I know that won’t be deserted.
When I pull around the back of the bakery, I see the lights on in the kitchen.
Al’ll be there, getting the bread and pastries ready for the early morning rush.
Three a.m. is like nine a.m. to a baker.
Parking, I grab my bag and haul myself out of the truck before walking over to the door and knocking.
It takes a few moments, but then it opens, revealing the big guy himself.
Al stands there, a shocked look on his face before he snaps out of it and pulls me in for a hug.
“Girl, we’ve been so fucking worried about you.”
“I’m okay,” I murmur against him, breathing in the comforting scent of dough.
“Bullshit!” he says, pulling back so he can look at me, cursing when he sees my eye.
“Lola…” His voice cracks.
“Don’t. I’m doing everything I can to hold on. I?—”
He covers my mouth with his hand.
“Say no more. Just, please tell me you’re here because you’re ready to run.”
I blow out a shaky breath.
“I can’t. Not yet. There’s something I have to do first. But then…
“Then?
”
“Then I have to at least try, right? For me and my son.”
“God damn right. You’ve protected Havoc longer than he deserved. Now it’s time to protect yourself.”
I nod, knowing he’s right.
“I have one last thing to do, and then I’m done.” I rummage around in my bag for the items from the vent and hand them to him.
“You know what to do.”
“You sure?”
I nod.
“It’s time.”
Air rushes from his lungs as he pulls me into another hug.
“I’m proud of you, girl.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back.
“I wanted to give you more, but?—”
“You’ve done enough.”
I give him a wobbly smile.
“I have to go. I’ve got a long drive ahead of me,” I tell him before walking back to the truck.
“Won’t the club notice you’re gone?” he calls.
I turn” I shake my head.
“I just have to figure out a way to get back inside,” I say, climbing back into the truck.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful, Lola.”
I offer him a small smile and close the door.
I make no promises—being careful has always been my downfall.
Checking the time, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly before setting off on the long journey to the mother chapter.