Chapter 3 Creature
“ N o need to look at me like that,” I growled at the nurse, who stuck up her nose as I approached the desk. I just want to know how the girl I brought in is doing.”
“Her name?”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. “That’s what I’m telling you. I don’t know it. She never told me before she passed out.”
The nurse narrowed her eyes. “Why are you covered in her blood?”
“Because she was bleeding all over me when I brought her here,” I deadpanned. Was it that complicated?
The nurse, whose nametag read Phyllis, shot to her feet. “Security!”
I wasn’t going to lose my temper. Not here.
Count to ten. It’ll help. A dark chuckle followed. Maybe.
I ignored the snide remarks in my head, wondering if I should actually try to count since I felt far too agitated to be civil.
“Listen, I found her beaten up. I didn’t hurt her, for fuck’s sake.”
“Is there a problem?” The gruff voice of the hospital security guard bellowed behind me.
I turned around slowly enough that he wouldn’t think I was a threat.
But you still are.
“I was at Toxic Tonic and found a girl outside the bar when I headed out. She was beaten, and I brought her in. I just want to know she’s okay before I leave.”
I didn’t mention that I’d been in the waiting room for over two hours trying to find someone who could give me a fucking answer.
The security guard took in my appearance and gave a curt nod to the nurse. “Tell him her condition. Nothing else.”
It’s a good thing you’re not wearing any leathers yet.
That bastard in my head was far too vocal tonight.
He wasn’t wrong, though. If I had on a Graven Bastards cut, they might have kicked my ass out without giving me a chance.
A biker covered in someone else’s blood didn’t bode well in most instances.
But I wore only a leather jacket, shirt, jeans, and boots.
Nothing to reveal what allegiances I had or which groups I affiliated with.
I coughed to cover a laugh as the guard pulled up on his belt, raising his pants like the little bit of authority he’d been given greased too many of his wheels.
Fucker probably takes it in the ass in his spare time. With a double-ended dildo.
I nearly choked.
Phyllis stared me down. “She’s been moved out of the I.C.U. The surgery was a success. She’s stable now.”
“Surgery? For what?”
Phyllis pursed her lips. “She had a ruptured spleen.”
Oh, fuck!
“Shit,” I cursed, clearing my throat. “But she’s going to recover? She’ll be fine, right? No permanent medical issues?”
Phyllis shook her head. “I can’t reveal her medical history. It’s a HIPAA violation.”
Of course not. I wasn’t suggesting that. “Will she be here long?”
“Probably forty-eight hours for observation unless there’s a complication.”
“I’d like to come back during visiting hours and check on her.”
Phyllis typed on the keyboard. I wasn’t sure if she added a notation about me as a visitor or a warning not to let me enter the fucking hospital again.
“You’ll need a visitor’s pass and I.D. next time.”
I had my fucking I.D. now, but I decided against being an asshole. It wouldn’t help.
It might make us feel better.
There wasn’t any “us.”
You’ve been saying that since it happened.
Nope. Not going there.
“I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Phyllis waved me off. “Next!” Her voice carried across the crowded waiting room.
I guess she dismissed me.
With a sigh, I stomped around the security guard with the puffed gut, who smelled like Fritos, and exited the emergency room. Halfway across the lot to my Harley, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
Yanking it free, I glanced down at the screen.
Maddog. Finally.
I swiped across to answer. “Bro, what the fuck?”
The rumble of his bike almost drowned his words. “Meet me at Lone Mountain.”
Before I could reply, he hung up. Fucking hell.
Blowing out a breath in frustration, I didn’t bother to text or call him back to let him know about my blood-stained clothes.
He’d see them when I arrived. I took the time to wash my hands in the hospital bathroom after the staff took the injured girl I brought in, but I hadn’t had time to change yet.
Cool wind teased the back of my neck as I left the parking lot and rode to meet Maddog.
He hadn’t always gone by that name. When we were kids, I knew him as Flint Shepherd.
But it had been years since I called him Flint, or he addressed me as Balen.
Our road names were simple. The same ones we earned kicking ass as Marines and originated back in boot camp.
Maddog leaned against his bike as I parked beside him, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His dark gaze swept over me as I cut the engine. A smile twitched his lips before he inhaled smoke and flicked ash from the tip.
“Whatever you’re about to say, fuck off,” I growled as I kicked down the stand on my Harley.
He snickered. “Mad I kept you waitin’, honey?”
I lifted my middle finger and flipped him off. “What took you so long?”
He opened his mouth to reply, but someone else spoke first.
“You smell like old pennies.”
I turned to the guy who seemed to emerge from the shadows. Half a black mask covered the side of his face. He wore a black hoodie and dark jeans, seamlessly blending in with the dark end of the lot where the bulb had burned out in the light pole.
I caught the cut he wore and two patches. One read SGT AT ARMS and the second read MANIC.
“That happens when someone bleeds all over you,” I replied, heavy on the sarcasm.
Manic snorted. “You rough her up?”
“Fuck no,” I spat with disgust. “I don’t beat on women.”
He nodded. “Good. Then we won’t have an issue since you’re my new enforcer.”
I tilted my head to the side, wondering why he kept his face hidden. “What’s with the mask?”
“I like to play dress up,” he deadpanned.
I like this sarcastic fucker.
No one asked you , I shot back.
A chuckle broke free as I shook my head. “You gonna wear a skirt too?”
“I might. You got a problem with that?”
“I don’t,” I responded honestly. “To each his own. I only give a fuck if you run around naked because I’m not into watchin’ dicks swinging in the breeze, man. Saw enough of ’em in boot camp.”
Maddog chuckled. “That’s the fucking truth.”
“I happen to like pussy, but if you swing both ways or strictly dick, that’s your business.”
“It is,” Manic agreed, “but my ol’ lady would get pissed if anyone saw my cock but her.”
Noted.
I turned to Maddog. “I need a drink and a change of clothes.”
“Then I guess we head to where you’re stayin’ first.” He glanced at the top of Lone Mountain. “Lots of memories up there.”
“There are,” I agreed.
“I’m thinkin’ tonight isn’t the time to reminisce.”
No shit. “I need alcohol before we take a fucking trip down memory lane.”
He dipped his chin. “Yeah, I hear you.”
We didn’t talk about the reason we left Las Vegas or joined the military—never did—not since the night that changed both our lives and sent them into a tailspin.
“Let’s ride out. My hotel isn’t far. Follow me.”
WITHIN THIRTY MINUTES , I had changed clothes, left my hotel, and followed behind Maddog as he led us to a property with a vacant lot.
A For Sale sign hung off the fence at an angle as I rode through the open gate.
The parking lot had seen better days. Tufts of grass and weeds pushed through the empty spaces.
Dirt and litter blew across the cracked cement.
When my gaze finally lifted to the building ahead of us as we parked, I shook my head with a laugh. “What the hell, Maddog?”
“You don’t like it?”
“It looks like a rundown casino from the eighties.”
He slapped my back. Hard. “That’s because it is.”
“Why are we here?”
I expected to meet at a bar like the original plan.
“Because after the night I’ve had, I don’t want to fuck around.”
I understood too well. “What happened?”
“Got caught by a couple of pigs who wanted to shake us down.”
Damn. “What they want to pinch you for?”
“Being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“It’s handled,” Manic growled. “We’re good. Case of mistaken identity.”
I snorted. “Right.”
Maddog pulled off his riding gloves and stashed them in his back pocket. “That shit doesn’t matter. This is why I wanted to meet tonight. Should have just told you to ride here first.”
It would have saved me time, but then I wouldn’t have been at Toxic Tonic to help that pretty redhead.
“Alright. I’ll take the bait. What is this place?”
Manic spread his arms wide, a shit-eating grin on his face. “The new clubhouse for the Las Vegas chapter of the Graven Bastards MC.”
The fuck? “You’re shitting me.”
Manic laughed and ticked his chin my way before strolling inside, leaving me alone with Maddog.
“Come on, Creature. You got to see this.”
He led me inside as I tried to ignore the boarded windows, broken glass, ripped, stained carpet, and old slot machines.
“This is the definition of fixer-upper, Flint.” I used his real name because what he was asking for required a hell of a lot of investment and commitment.
“That’s the point. This is ours . I own the property and plan to buy the lots next door on both sides. They’re in contract as we speak. Manic bought the lot behind us. We’re gonna own all the shit close to our clubhouse and businesses.”
“The whole fucking block will be ours.”
Damn. That was smart. Get in before anyone realized who we were, and it was too late to prevent our takeover.
Not that reputable business would spend a lot of time in this area of Vegas.
It was old and worn, a place to score drugs and pussy any time of the day or night.
Hell, a strip club, XXX movie store, and a pawn shop were located a few doors down.
“We reforming it?” I asked with humor.
“It’s Vegas,” Manic chimed in. “We’ve got every vice a customer could desire, and anything is available for the right price.”
That was the fucking truth.
“No kiddie porn or underage shit. I won’t be part of that.”
“I already made that clear to Manic.”
Manic looked like he scowled, but it was hard to tell with half his face hidden. “We keep this shit twenty-one and older. All of it.”
“So we’re hiring labor for this? It’s gonna cost a fuck ton, Maddog.”
“We outsource what we need and only pay for services we can’t complete. I want us to do all the labor when possible.”
“Hate to break it to you, you stubborn fucker, but the three of us aren’t gonna make much of a dent.”
“That’s why we’re bringing on the rest of the club within the next few weeks. I’ve been in contact with everyone. They’ll show up as their schedule allows and pitch in.”
I crossed my arms, gazing around the room. We’d need a fucking army of contractors. “Who’s coming?”
“Our V.P., Skeletor. Crusher, Dice, Brimstone, Hex, Slash, Tombstone, and Firewall.”
No shit? I knew all the names but one.
My arms dropped. “How the fuck did you convince our whole fucking barracks from boot camp to join the club?”
Maddog shrugged. “I’m a persuasive motherfucker.”
True.
“And he promised access to pussy since the guys can help audition the talent for our porn studio and strip club.”
Maddog lifted his middle finger. “Fuck off, Manic. I said, it’s Las Vegas, and there’s pussy everywhere. That was it.”
“I added the part about auditioning the talent if the girls were interested. We got flooded with phone calls and emails when we put up a flyer. We won’t have a problem finding the staff.”
“It’s the economy,” Maddog answered with a shrug. “Everything is so goddamn expensive. People need work.”
“And a place to spend their wages and relax, grab a beer, and watch some tits bounce around in their face.”
Manic wasn’t wrong. “People will always spend money on their vices. It’s the shit that makes life worth living.”
“Exactly.”
I turned to Maddog. “Let me get this right. We’re remodeling an old casino as our clubhouse, buying property around us to run a strip club, porn studio, and a few other businesses. And we’re bringing in Marines to help get it sorted.”
“That’s right.”
There wasn’t much else that I needed to know. “I’m in.”
He belted out a laugh. “Yeah, I thought so, Balen.”
Manic’s grin widened. “Welcome to the club. You’re almost a Graven Bastard.”
Maddog gripped my shoulder. “You ready?”
“For?”
“Your initiation.”
Fuck. “What do I have to do?”
“Take a ride into the desert. There’s someone I want you to meet.”