Chapter 4

Chapter Four

SEBASTIAN

T he way Princess says charity shifted the energy in the room and before I could process it, Bristol lunged at her. Her hands fisted in Princess's hair and she drug her forcefully to the ground, pounding her free fist into Princess's face until she had her subdued. Bristol looms over her, pounding both her fists into Princess's face a few more times before Slim rushes over to pull her off.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" he asks. I'm about to say something when I realize he's talking to Princess. Well, I wasn't expecting that.

Bristol is panting, her hands beet red and bloody. No doubt who the blood belongs to when I see Princess's nose and lip bleeding and one of her eyes already half-swollen. I chuckle softly to myself. I knew someone would eventually put her in her place, but I never dreamed it would be an outsider. Maybe she'll stop running her bitchy mouth.

"Aren't you going to do something?" Princess whines, looking around the room at everyone.

"I just did," Bristol says, her breathing finally calmed down some. There's a gleam in her eyes that is almost sadistic. Princess huffs and rolls her eyes as Slim helps her to her feet. Without another word, she storms out of the clubhouse. Slim groans and follows behind her.

"Sorry, y'all," he says on his way out.

I know Joey's going to tell him to control his ol'lady, but he won't chastise him.

When the door shuts behind Slim, Mo bursts out laughing, causing me and Joey both to chuckle with him. Bristol is just looking around at us like we've lost it.

"I'm sorry. I'm gonna go get cleaned up." Bristol scurries off down the hall and I hear the bathroom door click shut and the water turn on. With everything she's going through, she still apologizes for someone else provoking her.

"Bout time somebody put that bitch in her place," Mo says, sitting down next to Joey. He's never liked her. Slim started bringing her around a little less than a year ago and she's done nothing but cause problems since. They've only been together around a year and since she's shown up, he's fallen off the deep end. We're all suspicious that she's gotten him into some shit that he shouldn't be in. Meth is bad in our area, and I think he's dabbling in the shit.

Joey takes a sip of his scotch and shakes his head back and forth with a half-smile spreading on his face. "She's going to get him fucked up one of these days."

"It's coming. Mark my words, Princess ain't nothing but trouble, Prez."

"Pisses me off. That poor fucking girl. I can't believe the shit that came out of Princess' mouth." Mo's stare is angry and his nostrils flare while he fidgets with a loose string on his cut-off.

Mo's always had a soft spot for girls in need of saving. He's the fatherly type and always wants to help fix the broken. I can't blame him. I want to fix her, too. Bikes begin pulling up outside and one by one, members trickle in.

Big George walks in first, wearing his typical dark green plaid shirt. Thick, black framed glasses sit on his nose and every now and again he scrunches his nose up, lifting them back in place. He doesn't take anyone's shit.

Next in the door are Bosco and Niles, laughing as they walk in. They're our two prospects and they've only been around for a few months, but they're doing their part and I'm pretty sure they'll make great brothers one day. Bosco is in his early twenties with a scraggly brown beard. He's always wrenching on something, so ninety percent of the time I see him, he's dirty. Whether its dirt, paint, or grease, he's always got something staining his clothes.

Niles is the smiling prospect. He's happy twenty-four seven. I don't think I've ever seen him without that big goofy grin he's donning now. He's thirty-five, a single dad, and from what I know of him, one hell of a man. He'll do anything for anyone, give you the shirt off his back, but he's short and bulky and not one who can be taken down easily.

Mikey walks in behind the prospects holding a freshly cracked Budweiser in his hand. He's one of the older members, been here for almost ten years. He's in his fifties, a tall slender man with a more salt than pepper goatee that's always impeccably groomed. He spends most of his free time working on fundraisers for the club, so we made him Treasurer last year. His wife doesn't ever come around, but she doesn't care that he spends his free time here. I'm surprised this is the first time he's been here in three days. He must have been sick, that's usually the only thing that keeps him away.

He did miss two weeks once, but that was because he ended up in the hospital for some health issues he doesn't talk about, and his wife didn't call any of us. We were worried sick the whole time not knowing what happened to him. When he finally woke up from the medically induced coma he was in, he called Joey and filled him in. The club has never been her thing, but it's always been his.

Our chapel as we call it is on the second floor of this old house. There's a stairwell leading up to it on the outside of the house and a narrow stairway inside. It's completely soundproofed with a large cherry oak table in the center of the open room. There are sixteen chairs around the table, each carved with the club's Reaper peeking through the torn American Flag The same carving is in the center of our table, backlit with a blue light, contingent with our colors.

Along the far-back wall is a cherry oak desk, also carved with our patch. It's heavy duty, with six locked drawers. Our fireproof safe is in the wall above the desk, hidden inside a wooden case that holds rocks glasses, specially ordered with Tattered Saints on one side and MC on the other. Joey takes his seat at the head of the table while the rest of us enter. Everyone is seated when Slim drags in. I know he had to take Princess home and probably give her a good ass chewing. Joey glances at him momentarily, if only to acknowledge his presence. Once he's seated, Joey looks around, like he always does before we get started.

"This meeting is officially called to order. We called an emergency church tonight to discuss the girl that Mo and Keno found. For those of you that don't know, Mo and Keno's industrial company has been delivering parts to a warehouse for a few years now. They noticed a girl there and got some bad vibes about the place and the man running it, so they did a little digging and found out that he was a creep. Upon further inspection, they learned that the girl was being held against her will. They acted immediately, saving the girl and bringing her back here. Her name is Bristol. We investigated her and found out she was taken the same day her family was annihilated, likely by the man who kidnapped her. People in her community don't know what to think and for six years they've been looking for her, while also accusing her of having something to do with the murders of her mother, father, and brother."

Joey stops for a few minutes so that everyone around the table can process what he just said.

"What kind of sick fuck does that to a girl?" Mikey asks, his ears reddening.

"One that doesn't need to breathe anymore," I quip. I bite back some of the rage budding in my chest at the thought of this piece of trash hurting Bristol.

"So, what are we going to do about it?" Niles asks.

"We're going to make sure he doesn't have the chance to do something like this ever again." Joey's answer is exactly what I was hoping it would be. I want to take his last breath from him for what he's done. No woman deserves the shit he put her through.

"He's probably long gone since we snagged her and took off, though," Mo grumbles.

"He can't hide forever. We will find him sooner or later, and when we do it'll be the last time he's ever found," I growl.

"I've got some contacts who specialize in finding people who don't want to be found. I'll put a call in and get the ball rolling on that. Mo, what's this guy's name? I'm going to need all the information you have on him," Slim says, pulling out a notepad from his cutoff.

Mo spouts off the man's name, Patrick something. I wasn't paying attention for that. I was too busy envisioning wrapping my hands around his puny fucking neck while he struggles to gasp for air. Murder isn't my specialty. I've never killed anyone. I've never seen anyone kill anyone, either. But for some reason, I have no qualms with taking this man's life. I know that it will be a deed I'll savor, and it'll bring me great pleasure knowing that I've saved the lives of his future victims by taking his life.

"What are we going to do with the girl? Shouldn't she go home?" Niles asks.

"I'm not sure if she wants to go home. Bash, I need you to talk to her. Put your feelers out and see what she's thinking, what her plans are. And… someone's got to tell her about the rumors and speculation of her involvement…" Joey trails off.

By someone, he means me. Sure, let me be the one to completely break her heart. Not like she just learned her whole family has been dead for the last six years that she's been missing, but sure, let me throw this on her on top of that. I'm going to end up bringing this girl to the fucking nut house myself because she's going to lose her mind. Anyone in their right mind would lose their mind under these circumstances. Who knows how much damage this motherfucker did to her?

"Yeah. Make me break her heart even more, why don't you?" I scoff.

Joey levels me with one look. He's always been fatherly, and that look is one that says, you better cut the bullshit and listen to me boy. As if I wasn't going to anyway.

"How is this girl going to be re-introduced into society? She doesn't have any identification; she has no paper trail or existence at this moment. Which can either be a very terrible thing, or a very good thing. It's a chance for a new start for her if she wanted it. We could help her completely reinvent herself," Big George points out.

We do have connections with a man who is good at making people disappear, or more-so reappear as someone else. We call him Magician, because that's what he does. He works his magic. Don't know his name, but it'd be easy to find out if we ever needed to. That's the thing about having connections, you make sure you keep the right people tucked away in all the right corners. You never know when you may need them.

"I'll work on her and see what can be done. I'll give her the option to go home or to start over here. She's going to need a lot of work, though," I sigh.

"Sounds like you're already signed up for the job," Big George elbows me, chuckling as he does. Bastard.

"Yeah, I guess it does."

"Okay. Let's bring it to a vote. All in favor of finding Patrick and ridding the world of him say aye."

A unanimous ‘aye' sounds around the room.

"And those opposed?"

His question hangs lifelessly in the air, followed only by silence.

"Then it's settled. The search begins tomorrow. I hope you're all prepared for what this may bring on us."

"I'll kill that motherfucker in front the cops, I don't give a fuck," Big George says.

"We won't let you take the fall for it by yourself, brother," Mikey says, slapping a hand on Big George's shoulder, a wide smile on his face.

Big George is always ready when something big is going down. Whether it's a barroom brawl or throwing a fit over someone shaking his hand with gloves on, he doesn't hold his tongue .

"Is there anything else?" Joey asks, looking around the table.

"I got nothin'," I shrug.

"Nope. I think we covered the only thing I'm worried about," Mo says.

"Meeting adjourned."

We say our goodbyes and redeem our cell phones from the bucket outside the door on our way downstairs. I check the notifications on my home screen. A single text message from Lilah, the Native American girl that gives one hell of a blow job. She's been trying to date me for the last year, but I can't do that. She wants all the bells and whistles and that shit ain't for me. If she was only interested in what I could do for her in the bedroom, then that would be one thing. But I'm not the settling down kind. She wants to get married and have kids one day, neither one of those things are in my future. I've got two nieces and a nephew and that's enough kids for me.

Lilah: You up for a go? Got two hours to kill between appointments.

I click the screen shut without responding. I hate to turn it down when it's been put on the table, but I've got a damsel in distress to shatter and pick up the pieces when I break the news to her about the accusations against her. I can't stop thinking about her. There's a hollowness in her soul that calls to me. Is it sad that watching her nail her fists into Princess's face made my dick twitch? The fierceness I saw in her eyes, that wild, uncontrolled, past the point of reasoning look made me want to tame her beneath me. I try to press the thoughts out of my head though, because the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone going through the kind of shit Bristol is going through.

She hasn't made up her mind on what she's going to do, granted it's only been a day, but she doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry to leave. I find that both odd and satisfying. I'm still coming to terms with how I'm going to break the news to her that I read online. The rumors. The accusations toward her. I'm not prepared to destroy the very last few pieces of her world, but I don't want anyone else to tell her, either. I wait until the sun has gone down and Bristol has had some time to calm down from her fight with Princess. She hasn't left the room down the hall since she went in there after cleaning up in the bathroom a few hours ago. All the guys are gone now that church is over, leaving her and I alone.

I guess now's as good of a time as any. I take a deep breath and head down the hall to the bedroom. I rap my knuckles on it twice and she opens the door almost instantly. As soon as she sees me, she starts talking fast.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't control myself. I should have contained my anger better, but god fucking damn it she was basically begging for it," she says, her eyes pleading with mine.

I put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey. You don't have anything to apologize for. That was uncalled for. She was in the wrong. It's okay," I say in hopes of reassuring her.

She sighs a breath of relief and I see her shoulders visibly relax.

"We do need to talk, though. I have some stuff to tell you and I don't think it's going to be easy for you to hear."

Her eyes grow dark. Hollow. Empty. Like I just ripped the rest of the soul she had left from her body and lit it up in flames right in front of her. My heart aches for her. She just nods and follows me to the living room. She sits exactly where she sat this morning, but I don't sit across from her. Instead, I sit next to her. I have a feeling she's going to lose it and I'll be there to catch her again. If nothing else, she needs to feel like she's got at least one person in this world.

"The circumstances of the day that you went missing are still unclear to the locals as well as local authorities."

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"There was evidence that the killer was a male, but there is speculation that the male in question could've been your lover."

I watch as my words sink in and she processes the meaning behind what I'm saying. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes.

"No. No. No. No. No. That's not what happened. That's absurd!"

"I know. I know that. But people talk and come up with their own explanations for why terrible things happen. They think that you were maybe seeing an older man and there's speculation that you may have even been an accomplice."

Tears stream down both of her cheeks at my words and I swallow hard, fighting back the emotions that are welling up inside of me and beckoning to come out of my eyes, too.

"No! I didn't even know Patrick until that day! He told me he needed help with his radio, and I fell for it like a fucking idiot. That one decision ruined my life. It changed everything forever. How fucking dare they!" Her anguish has quickly turned to outrage. Her face reddens and though the tears are still falling, her face has hardened, and she sobs silently, seething with anger.

"What am I supposed to do, Sebastian?" she asks, looking up at me .

I wrap my arms around her, and she loses it. She cries almost as hard as she did last night when she found out her family was gone. I hold her close to me, running a hand across her shoulders in the hopes of comforting her, if only just a little.

"We're gonna get your life straightened out. One step at a time."

Bristol cries for the next hour and a half, curled up in my arms until she finally passes out, half in my lap and half on the arm of the loveseat. The blue shirt she's wearing is bunched up in the back from her moving around so much. I reach over and pull it down to cover her skin because it's a little cold in here. I don't want to move her. She's finally resting and not crying anymore. I angle myself sideways, slowly and softly so as not to wake her until I'm able to get comfortable to doze off.

The soft sound of her breathing lulls me to sleep. When I wake up, she's in the same position she was in when I fell asleep, curled into my chest. My arms are wrapped around her so tightly, you'd have thought she was a prized possession that someone was trying to take from me. I loosen my grip on her and glance around the room. The sun should be coming up shortly and the smallest amount of light is beginning to creep in through the curtains. Bristol stirs in my arms and her eyes bolt open. Her body goes taut and the confused and terrified look on her face is there for only a second before she gets her wits about her. When the realization that she's safe dawns on her, she relaxes. Her legs stretch out and her knee brushes my morning wood. I hold my breath awkwardly, but she doesn't look concerned. Instead, she looks away, closing her eyes while a smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth.

I chuckle softly and angle my hips backward some to keep from knocking on her leg. Don't need him tapping her and asking for directions. Her eyes open slowly, gazing up at me through dark blue pools and I'm mesmerized. In a trance. Like she's a siren and I'm following her down through the depths of the ocean, helpless yet willing all the while. I lean my head closer to hers but the sound of boots creeping through the house rips me from my trance.

I sit up and run a hand over my face before I ease down the hallway to the bathroom. I'm a fucking idiot. The last thing this girl needs is me trying to get in her pants, yet here I fucking am. I splash cold water over my face and grab a spare toothbrush out from under the sink to kill the morning breath that plagues me. My dick has finally stopped pulsing and I feel like an asshole for just bolting. That probably fucked her up even more. I really am a fucking idiot.

I splash my face with water again before I walk out. I hear her soft voice drifting down the hall and I hope whoever is talking to her is doing so with respect. I'm already on edge and usually I wouldn't mind one of my brothers doing what the fuck ever he wants but something about this girl makes me want to protect her at all costs. In the kitchen, Mo is stirring some sugar into a cup of coffee and Bristol is sipping from a black and green sugar skull mug with Tattered Saint Supporter written on it.

I wonder when the last time she drank coffee was. I'm so intrigued by her. There are so many questions I want to ask her, but I don't want to sound rude or make her feel like she's a zoo animal beneath a microscope. I realize I'm standing there like a creep, looking on from the hallway so I enter the kitchen. Mo greets me with a smile.

"Good morning brother."

"Good morning. I was just telling Bristol here that tonight's bike night at Blue and Que's. Invited her to tag along. "

Bristol peers up at me over the rim of her coffee mug, those deep blue irises dancing with wonder. What is she thinking?

"Yeah, definitely. It's always a great turnout and you won't have to worry about anyone getting too close to you with us around." I shoot her a smile, and something sparkles in her eyes. Is that amusement?

"I'm all in. Who am I going to ride with?"

"You can ride with anybody you're comfortable with." Mo's statement is true and accurate, but I don't like it. I want her to ride with me.

"You're more than welcome to ride with me," I say, trying not to sound pathetic.

"Okay, yeah. Thank you."

"It'll be my pleasure. Gotta give these assholes something to talk about, eh ?"

She grins and nods, swallowing a gulp of coffee. My eyes linger on her throat as she swallows, on her full lips. Mo slaps a hand on my shoulder, breaking through the cloud of ways I want to fuck Bristol that was forming in my head.

"Be careful with her. She's precious cargo."

I chuckle. Don't I know it. "You got it."

I want to stick around and hang out, but I need to put some distance between her and I. I grab my cut off and say my goodbyes before heading out the door. My apartment is only a few miles down the street from the clubhouse. I'm walking through the front door of my place in fifteen minutes flat. I shut the door and click the dead bolt locked behind me. I drop my keys in the bowl on the small table by the front door and kick my boots off. My body is tired, sleeping on the couch didn't do anything for me but wake me up wanting to sink my dick inside the beautiful, fucked up mess of a girl that was sleeping next to me.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and toss it on the end table next to my bed as I peel my shirt off. A few more hours of sleep won't hurt. Or at least that's what I tell myself as I crawl underneath the comforter and am out cold before my eyes close all the way. I sleep so hard that I don't dream, only disappear into the blackness of sleep. I wish I did dream, dreams of Bristol. Of her long brown hair falling over her shoulders and dangling above me while she sits on my cock. As consciousness beckons me, I daydream of what filling her will feel like.

I'm like a teenager in fucking puberty all over again. I want to beat my dick until it's raw, maybe that would help get the constant thought of fucking her out of my head. Or at least put it at bay. At this point, I've got two options. I can either call Lilah or beat off. Sighing, I grab the bottle of warming lube from the drawer of the nightstand and squirt it on the head of my cock. I rub it in, letting the warmth take me to a place of pure bliss. I know no one but Bristol will satiate my desires, so there's no sense in trying. I fist my cock furiously until images of Bristol moaning my name as she comes beneath me send me towering over the edge and coming all over my hand.

I huff in frustration at how fucking ridiculous this is and get out of the bed. I don't have a clue what time it is but fuck it. I need a shower and afterward I'll head back to the clubhouse. I shower quickly and throw on a navy-blue Tattered Saints t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. I grab my baseball cap on the way out and hit the highway. The club house is full when I show up. Twelve bikes out front and a few cars parked along the gravel driveway on the side of the house, blocking the entrance to the stairs. Probably some of the ol'ladies' vehicles .

I hang my helmet on my mirror and head inside. The kitchen is full of women chattering about some jewelry show at the Coliseum while fixing some finger foods. I say hello to everyone. Lacey is Niles' girlfriend, she's in her early twenties and has slowly started to understand the way the club works. She was completely against it a few months ago but the more time she spends with us, the more she relaxes. I guess since she sees that we aren't hiring strippers for the club parties and shoving naked women down her boyfriend's throat, she's a little more okay with us.

Next in the kitchen is Loretta, Joey's wife. She's a heavy-set red head in her late fifties with one hell of a right hook. She's been around this shit for the last twenty years, if not more and she doesn't take any shit from anybody. I've seen her swing on Joey before. I didn't say she was the smartest, but she most definitely ain't the weakest. I'd want her on my side of a bar brawl. Bitch can hit.

Kendra is my favorite of them all. She's Reaper's ol'lady. She's the most respected around here. That woman is a saint. She's in her early thirties, but she's wise beyond her years. She's the one all the ol'ladies end up going to for advice. She's good at helping the new ones out when they're feeling overwhelmed and uncomfortable about some of the things that their men have to do as prospects. Some of them don't take too kindly to their boyfriends or husbands having to walk around carrying condoms, but it's part of prospecting. If a member asks you for something, within reason, then it should be in your cutoff and you should be able to hand it to him on the spot. If not, why the fuck do we have you around?

I don't see Bristol among the ol'ladies in the kitchen and that strikes me as odd. I would've thought she'd want some human interaction with women more so than men. On second thought, after the fiasco with Princess yesterday, I don't blame her. I walk into the bar through the swinging door that connects it to the kitchen.

A Hank Williams tune plays in the foreground and is mostly tuned out by the laughs being shared amongst my brothers. Reaper, Slim, Mo, and Mikey are sitting at the table playing a round of cards. Those four could play cards every damn day. Reaper must have gotten back in town today because that's the only reason he would've missed church yesterday. He's loaded. Spent his early twenties making all the money he could and by thirty he had a couple million in the bank and opted to retire. He has his own company doing work in the oil refineries in Louisiana, but he has managers in place running them for him. He spends most of his time here with the club, but one week out of the month he makes a trip to another charter's clubhouse to spend the week with our brothers there.

"Three kings, boys!" Reaper cheers, throwing his cards down on the table with a smug grin on his face.

"You gotta be kiddin' me!" Mikey slams his cards down and gets up from the table.

They like to get a little competitive when it comes to their gambling. I stay away from it for the most part, although I love it. I like to stand back and watch, it's more entertaining that way anyway.

"Well, look who it is. If it isn't mister save-a-hoe himself," Reaper chuckles, standing up to hug me.

"Yeah, yeah. How was Nebraska?"

"Man, it was badass. I got to see some wildlife and tried some of those edibles that Goose has been talking about."

I raise a brow at him.

He stands a little closer to me and lowers his voice. "Got a few brownies put back for you and some of the boys. "

I flash him a thousand-watt smile. This motherfucker here. He's always scoring some good shit on these trips he takes. He only shares with a few of us, though. Some of the others around here are uptight about shit like that. They'd shit a gold brick if they knew that the club used to run dope through the streets of Biloxi like it was fucking candy. That was long before I ever came around. It's only been spoken of for the last few years, but I've heard the rumors and the stories. The Tattered Saints were the place to get anything and everything you needed. That still stands mostly true to this day, too. If we can't get it for you, we know someone who can. We don't get our hands dirty anymore, though. There's no stash to be found here, at least not like there used to be. The safe used to be filled with everything from marijuana to some new concoction some of the old timers were making. It was a lucrative business, made the club a lot of money so long as they could keep the former president out of the inventory. Hence the word preceding president being former.

"What's the story with the girl?" Reaper asks, pointing his chin at Bristol sitting at the bar. I hadn't noticed her there when I walked in. She's sitting with her back to me, her long brown hair pulled back into a French braid. She's wearing a fitted blue shirt, pair of pale blue jeans with some black combat boots. She's talking to Joey and when she throws her head back and laughs it's the most beautiful fucking harmony I've ever heard.

"Joey didn't tell you?"

" Ahh , he said something about her being kidnapped by some fucking pussy, but that was all I got."

"That's about it. Mo and his boy found her and saved her. Now, we've got feelers out to see if he's still in town or if he took off. Joey was supposed to send some guys to the warehouse to verify his whereabouts, but I haven't heard anything. I can tell you, the whole club's gonna get a shot at this asshole when we get our hands on him."

Reaper rubs his hands together and smiles. "I can't fucking wait."

"I'm gonna go see what Joey's up to over there."

I walk up to the bar beside Bristol and she stiffens for a second before she looks over and sees me standing there.

"Hey."

"Hey. Welcome back," she beams.

"I had to get some rest and a shower. Can't have you riding on the back of my bike, holding onto a dirty biker."

My comment is met with a sinister grin and a set of eyes that make me want to bend her over this barstool and show her what that look makes me want to do to her.

"Can't have that…" she trails off, giving me a once over. I look at the glass sitting on the table in front of her. A rocks glass that's nearly empty. Shit. Joey's getting her loaded. She's probably never even drank alcohol before. Christ.

I lean back and glare at Joey. The smug look on his face tells me he's accomplished whatever it was he was striving for. I'm just not real fucking sure what that is. I want to ask him what the fuck his problem is, but I won't disrespect him in front of all of these people. I take a deep breath and rest my elbows back on the bar, looking at Bristol. She's smiling, bobbing her head to the music, never having noticed that I wasn't looking at her for those few seconds. Just fucking great.