Chapter Four
AXEL
Otto and I spend the next few days reaching out to Washington clubs, since I had never heard of the Kingsnakes before. As much as I didn’t want to pull the kid into more shit, he’s good at helping out.
I got a single lead. Either the other clubs hadn’t heard of them, or all but one didn’t want to get involved and inadvertently pull themselves into a war they don’t belong in. But I got one hit, and that’s all that matters. So that’s where we’re starting.
The road stretches in front of us as we drive farther into a small town called Autumn Bay.
It matches the description of the last known place the snake in our club gave us right before we killed him.
After riding for a few hours, I see a diner up ahead, its dull neon lights barely glowing from the decades of weather wear and lack of upkeep.
It’s on the outskirts of Autumn Bay, in the middle of nowhere, cocooned by trees, which is a perfect last-minute stop before we start pulling apart their town to find these assholes.
The moment our engines roll through, I’m sure their members will get word who’s looking for them.
Especially if this place is anything like Amberwood.
A new biker doesn’t enter our town without us knowing about it.
We park our bikes out front, cutting our engines, and stepping off. There’s a light scent of salt in the air, and my cue that we’ve practically reached the coast. There’s only one other vehicle in the parking lot, an old Ford truck that’s seen better days but probably runs better than ever.
Malice is the first one into the building, the scent of grease and dirty mop water assaulting my nose as an obnoxious bell rattles against the glass of the door, announcing our entrance.
He takes a seat at the closest table to the windows in front of our bikes so we can keep an eye on them.
Even though this place looks like a ghost town, you can never be too sure.
A hazard of the job. Wearing this cut automatically puts a target on your back.
I scan the diner, my eyes doing a double take when the most intriguing woman I’ve ever seen grabs a few menus from the bar and heads our way.
I’m momentarily stunned. She has the lightest blonde hair I’ve ever seen, so light that it’s practically white, and as her steps bring her closer and closer, I realize that it is.
Her eyes are downcast, and I wait, breathlessly, for her to look up so I can see the color of her irises, but to my disappointment, she never does.
She’s wearing a uniform that hangs loosely and unflatteringly on her body, draped more like a sack than a dress, and I find myself wondering what’s beneath the ill-fitting fabric.
When she reaches us, I clock the slight tremor in her hand as she drops the menus to the center of our table and quickly turns to walk away without a word. Interesting.
I shake my head, reminding my cock that I’m working, and we’re trying to find Rolo’s murderer.
It’s not time to play with unsuspecting waitresses.
Malice sits across from me, a smirk playing on his lips while he looks down at something on his phone.
He’s been doing that a lot lately, and I’m curious enough to want to ask.
“What do you keep doing on your phone? You’re never on your phone.” Malice quickly pockets it, clearly not wanting to contribute to sharing time.
“Where do we go next? They’re not hiding in an actual snake den; someone has to know where they are or who the fuck the Kingsnakes are,” Malice asks, ignoring my question.
The soft footsteps of the waitress bring her closer, my eyes fighting the pull to glance up for another chance at seeing her eyes, but I force myself to focus on Malice.
Just as I open my mouth to reply, a soft, timid voice breaks our conversation.
“Sorry for intruding, but did you say Kingsnakes, like the motorcycle club?” My eyes shoot up to find the waitress back at the edge of our table, shocked by what she just asked.
She sets glasses of water on the table, hands shaking, water sloshing over the rims. I take the moment to really look at her, and my heart suddenly freaks the fuck out.
I rub my fist against the ache at the center of my chest, my throat tightening, my head swimming.
She has the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, endless and icy, but they’re empty.
Those blue orbs bounce over our leather cuts before shifting back downward.
She’s terrified. Scared out of her damn mind.
Something I’ve never felt before surges forward.
Something primal, innate, an instinct so profound I could choke on it.
My eyes roam over her face before moving downward, and that’s when I see them, just enough to know what they are before she adjusts her collar, trying her best to hide them. Scars. More specifically, burn scars. And based on how deep they look, I’d wager they weren’t caused by a fire.
Wrath rises to the surface from out of nowhere, and I have the sudden urge to burn the world to the ground to find out who hurt her.
When Noose speaks up, causing her to jerk away slightly, her arms wrapping around herself, I want to spin his useless fucking head off his shoulders.
My brother. For a woman who hasn’t said a single word to me directly.
“You know ’em? We won’t hurt you, but we need to find them.”
Her eyes finally look up again, peeking through her long eyelashes, but they aren’t to meet my own, like I’m internally begging her to.
They quickly scan the length of the diner and then fall back downward again.
“I-I, I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything.
I’m sorry, I don’t know anything,” she stutters.
I don’t know what comes over me, but every cell in my body is screaming at me to fix this, to comfort her, to protect her.
I reach out slowly, resting my fingers over the back of her hand.
I’ve touched more women than I can count, and it has all felt incredible, but this touch right here, as innocent as it is?
I can’t explain it. Nothing compares. My heart pounds ruthlessly against my ribcage as pain lances through my veins.
I’ve been tortured, stabbed, shot, and beaten, but I’ve never felt this kind of pain before.
It’s something foreign, but I don’t want to fight against it; the opposite, actually, I want more of it.
Her eyes flick up from the spot of contact to meet my own, and I swear to the Devil himself, all the air in the building evaporates.
I need to get her alone. I need to know everything about her, to tell her she’s going to be okay, to find out why she’s so clearly terrified of bikers and the name Kingsnakes.
“Why don’t you take a break, huh? Head to the restroom.
I’ll knock twice, and then you’ll let me in, okay?
” I realize I probably sound like a fucking lunatic and quickly follow it up with reassurance.
“I won’t hurt you, have never hurt a woman in my life, but you know something, and I can tell you’re scared.
They hurt someone close to us. Our brother.
I need you to tell me what you know. Nod once if you understand, sweetheart.
” The pet name rolls off my tongue effortlessly.
I could have called her by the name written on her tag, but that doesn’t feel right.
She holds my stare for what feels like minutes, and I wish it could be all fucking day.
I track her body movements, and even though it’s minute, I can visibly see her relax slightly as her eyes hold mine hostage.
Good girl. Eyes on me. Everything’s going to be okay.
Then, before I’m ready for her to, she nods once and then quickly retreats, her head down, arms still wrapped tightly around her waist. It’s not until she’s out of my sight completely that I can take a full breath of air into my lungs.
Holy shit, what just happened? My body doesn’t feel like my own, my head fucking dizzy. I rap my fingers on the tabletop several times, trying to get my shit together. “I’ll be right back, boys.”
Noose snorts in response, and I glare at him, daring him to fuck with me right now.
“How about I go?” Malice suggests, and I’d rather slit his throat right here at the table than let him go in there with her. But I play it off with a chuckle. “Absolutely the fuck not. No offense, Mal, but you’re probably one of the reasons she looks terrified. You look like Death himself.”
Malice’s face scrunches up, his hand running through his wild blond hair. “I do not. Whatever. Just get the information. I want to get the fuck out of here if we aren’t bringing bodies back with us today.”
Easiest yes I’ve ever given. I nod at them, standing and adjusting my leather cut, heading toward the bathroom, hoping like hell she listened and is in there.
When I reach the bathroom, I take a deep breath and then rap the back of my knuckles twice against the door. It feels like torture waiting, but finally, the door cracks open, a flash of white-blond hair swishing as she quickly steps back, putting the length of the small single bathroom between us.
Her hands are wrapped tightly around herself, like she’s doing her best to be as small as possible. Too bad for her, she’s all I fucking see.
“Please, don’t hurt me. I’ve been—just, please.”
Pain pierces my chest at her words, followed by a strong desire to protect.
I have the strongest urge to wrap her in my arms, but I know that’s fucking insane.
She’s clearly terrified, and I need to do something.
Everything inside me is boiling over and screaming at me to react.
Protect. Comfort. Fix. Holy fuck, what’s the protocol here?