Chapter 10

Trix

The Hounds caught up with me in record time and threw me into the clinker, which is what they call the spartan cells in the basement of the clubhouse. Right now, I'm sitting on a hard bed staring at the concrete block wall which has been my home for the past few days. Painted on the wall is a gigantic mural of our club logo. I hate this damp, dark room, the one my grandfather always locked me in when I'd done something wrong growing up. I had thought those days were well behind me but clearly, they aren't. I feel that same sick swirling sensation in my gut that I felt the day my mom died.

To say my grandfather is furious would be an understatement. He demanded that I marry Decker immediately and I couldn't bring myself to do it. Now I'm paying for it. How can I marry Decker when I literally can't stand to look at him? I wish I could say I struggled with the choice, but I didn't. Not only did I refuse, but I made sure he wouldn't want me, by texting sweet nothings to his brother. I knew that would drive him away for good. It worked, but my grandfather didn't think my little trick was very funny. He's beyond furious that I messed up his plans.

I realize now that Vapor was correct, in my darkest moments I wished I'd listened to him and stayed in his shop. I'd contact him now, his cell phone number is burned into my memory, but my grandfather took away my phone.

Drawing my knees up, I wrap my arms around my legs. My head comes back to rest against the wall as I wonder what new trajectory my life will take. One thing is for sure, my grandfather will be making all the decisions and I'll bet my bottom dollar there will be a nasty surprise built in somewhere along the line as punishment for my disobedience. Even that didn't make me wish I'd followed his directions about giving Decker a chance. The man made my skin crawl.

I've watched him fuck a club whore right in front of me. He'd had a huge grin on his face, like he was giving me a sneak peek of what was in store for me once I became his wife. Well, all I can say is that woman hadn't looked like she was having the time of her life with him, and nothing I saw made me want to hop in bed with him. The whole situation did make me think he was a bit of an idiot though.

Still, I hate sitting in lock up like a criminal. Being the only female of three grandchildren, I should have known that my controlling grandfather wouldn't let me live my own life. No one in my world understood what I was going through, not even my brothers. My grandfather told me that Tracker and Decker were well on their way to becoming fast friends. I remembered what Tracker said about trying to get out of the club. Was he still planning on doing it? Or had my grandfather gotten him back on side.

My family might be outlaw bikers but that didn't mean I didn't love them. I'd always wanted to get married and do my own thing, maybe stopping by the club every now and then to help out with events. I don't like most of the club brothers and the shady way they earn their money is not something I want to be party to. At this point, all those dreams seem far away. Refusing Decker sealed my fate. After the stunt I pulled, I don't think even my brothers can save me.

I need to escape before they discover my dirty little secret. Once they find out that I had a fling with a member of the Savage Legion, life as I know it, will be over. Possibly even my life, period. My grandfather hasn't exactly been guarding my virtue, but he would consider sleeping with a member of the Legion the ultimate betrayal. The thing is, if I ever want to get out of this room, I have to do my grandfather's bidding, or at least pretend to.

I lay down on the thin mattress and try to get comfortable. Worry twists in my gut, as my mind clicks through all the horrible things my grandfather can do to me. The thought of becoming the wife of a man I don't love is devastating. Even though I've managed to get rid of Decker, I'm a hundred percent certain there will be someone else. My grandfather won't let this go. He's far too proud to let a woman get the better of him. Now that his mind is made up, I find the only truly wonderful thing about my situation was experiencing Vapor prior to being put on lockdown.

Forcing myself to lie still, all the horrible things that my grandfather has done to women who betrayed or simply disobeyed him march through my mind. I don't know what happened to my grandmother, no one will say. I remember my mom was terrified of him, which was why she kept us as far away as possible. He had an old lady at the clubhouse for a few years, I would have been around fifteen then. When my grandfather found out she cheated on him, he held a little party and passed her around to any club brother who wanted a shot at her, and then added her to the group of women who worked in the brothel the club owned. One of the club whores got her pretty face rearranged for turning him down when he was drunk a while back. There were several more incidents with women over the years. I had spent years thinking I was the only female he didn't hate, guess I was wrong about that.

He's old, messed up, and doesn't have an ounce of respect for me but he's still my grandfather. I'm very conflicted about my true feelings when it comes to that old man, which I suppose is understandable considering the upbringing I had.

Moving forward, there will be no more going where I want, shopping on my own, or going to raves. Nope, either my grandfather or whatever new husband he picks for me will be keeping close watch over me. The thought of not being able to dance to live trance music causes an ache in my heart, which joins the ache from knowing I'll never see Vapor again.

From now on I would be living according to the rules dictated to me by the males in my life. Oh, how I wish my mom were still alive. I'm certain her words would fall on deaf ears as well, but maybe we could run away together. I lost her all too soon and that's where that thought is coming from.

Getting married off might work out in the end, I tell myself. Maybe, if I just keep telling myself that, the day might come when I actually believe it. Or the day might come when I am able to escape.

Snuggling under my thin blanket, I try to think of happier times. A good night's sleep is imperative if I want to keep my strength up. I can't let these people wear me down. Unfortunately, sleep is elusive tonight. I try everything, right down to counting sheep. I punch my uncomfortable pillow, trying to fluff it up and close my eyes. I don't know how long it takes, but eventually I feel myself slowly growing drowsy.

***

I sit up in bed panting and trying to get my breath back. The dream was so vivid, I was a child again. I must have been around four or five. My heart is hammering as I desperately try and recall the details, the sirens, the paramedics. My mom lying on the living room floor bleeding out, and I thought the spreading blood looked like a poppy flower.

The scary man who came to visit that afternoon, whose voice was raised in anger, I had never seen him before, and my mom had told me to hide, hide and not to come out no matter what happened. I was under my bed, holding my breath and an arm reached out for me. I remembered the cartoon dog tattoo on his forearm and his moustache. There was something so familiar about his voice, where had I heard it before… Then my mom screamed.

"You're having nightmares again. You were yelling loud enough to wake the dead, saying something about poppies." A gruff voice draws me from my thoughts. It's Jamus.

I shake the cobwebs from my head, trying desperately to remember what I just dreamed before it all slips away. Unlike the other nightmares, this was so real, my mom dying in front of me, but not from an overdose like my grandfather said. She was murdered by that man who came round. It's like I was there again, the noises, the voices of the paramedics trying to save her.

I must have locked away the trauma, but I now know the truth. My mom was killed, but who was the killer.

"Sorry I disturbed you," I murmur.

"You have bad dreams a lot?" he asks.

"I have it more when I'm anxious."

The old man grins fondly at me. "You're getting married and starting a whole new life. What could be more anxiety provoking that that?"

Picking at a stain on the blanket, I shrug. "I don't think my marriage to Decker is going to take place after the stunt I pulled."

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he responds, "That was a right stupid move on your part. Don't ya want to get hitched, girl?"

"I'm not ready, and I don't like Decker."

"You hadn't ought to be so choosey. Remember, when we used to tease you about becoming a crazy old cat lady. Well, that is going to be a sure thing if you don't straighten up and fly right from here on out."

My lips twitch. "Yeah, I guess it's now or never time for me."

He gestures outward with one arm. "Well, sure it is, girl. You're young. Where's your sense of adventure?"

I give him a wry look. "Just because I'm getting married off to someone my grandfather picks doesn't guarantee me adventure by any stretch of the imagination. Chances are I'll still end up a crazy old cat lady, but with an asshole husband to contend with as well."

"You aren't going to end up that way, because King's going to find you the right man this time. You're right about Decker being all wrong for you. He likes the whores too much to deserve a fine girl like yourself."

"Yeah, and he's not the brightest bulb in the box."

"You're not wrong about that. There's got to be someone out there who's right for you."

"What if I found a man I like all on my own?"

"We both know that getting hitched to one of the Hounds was never in the cards for you. If that happened, your husband would always be a threat to Tracker when he takes over as president one day. We can't have infighting like that going on if we want the club to survive."

Nodding, I state impulsively. "Or you could let me go. Give me a chance to have a happy life of my own choosing somewhere far from Las Salinas."

Jamus' head snaps up to glare at me. "Don't even think about that for a second. If you escape, King will hunt you down, and you won't like what he'll do when he gets his hands on you. Women can marry good men, or they can be married off to real assholes. You don't want that, do you?"

"I don't want to get married at all. At least give me a fighting chance at a decent life, Jamus."

He just shakes his head. "What would you do out there in the real world all by yourself, Trix? You barely graduated high school, never went to college, or learned a trade. How in the hell would you survive?"

Stung by the reality check he just gave me, I say grudgingly, "Lots of people work regular unskilled jobs."

"You're not thinking rationally, girl. Trust me on that."

Sinking back against the wall again, I try to convince him that I can take care of myself in the wild, though maybe I'm trying to convince myself. My grandfather pays me wages for doing odd jobs for the club, which is enough to cover my rent and food. But a lot of what I do wouldn't translate to real world skills. Weighing out drugs, boxing up ammo, and ordering cases of illegal booze for the brothel wouldn't look impressive on a resume. "I'm good with people. That ought to be worth something in this world."

"Just do what your grandfather asks. He's put a lot of time and effort into finding you a husband. He has a couple of backups, but right now they're trying to get the brother you texted to come and meet you."

Holy shit, that's the last thing I want to happen. I hope and pray he's not interested because his reputation as a vicious bastard precedes him. If it's him or Decker then I'm sorry to say, I'd take Decker and his womanizing ways and idiocy over that maniac, any day.

"I need more time to figure out what I want out of life." I can hear the pleading quality to my own voice. "You on the other hand, have it all figured out. You're a Hellfire Hound. You've got it made."

He gives me a feral grin. "You're not wrong about that."

I look up into his smiling face and ask, "Do you ever think my mother died of something other than an overdose?"

The older man's expression shuts down so fast it is scary. "Look Trix, take a word of advice from a man that's been around Hellfire Hounds MC for a fucking long time. Do not ever repeat the question you just asked or speak of your mother's death again."

Deciding to take a chance, I lower my voice. "They say she died of an overdose, but I never saw her do any drugs."

"Maybe she took them when you weren't in the room. You weren't at her side every minute of the day, right? Junkies are good at hiding their habit."

"That's true, I suppose." My weak reply appeases him. But I remember the dream. It was filled with horrible things from when I was little, and it felt so real. It was real.

***

The next morning, I woke feeling empty and sad. Last night's dream had taken everything out of me. In the cold light of day, the memories were still with me. Unlike normal dreams where the contents fade, in this case I could recall everything. That's when I knew it wasn't a dream, I'd been there when my mom died—that scary man with the drooping moustache and cartoon dog tattoo had killed her.

I look out the bars of my cell, Jamus is sitting in a chair reading a book, he must have sensed I was awake because he calls over, "You okay sweetheart? You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine," I respond, feeling anything but fine. "Just a bit fed up with my life."

"Aw, girl. You know I wish I could help you. I'm tryin' to make King see sense, but I think you're just gonna have to let him take care of things."

I shrug, it's easy for Jamus to say that, but he's not the one who's going to be trafficked.

He gets up from the chair and hands me the book he's reading through the bars, "This might cheer you up. I was sorting through my stuff last night and found some old albums. There are some photos of your mom and pops in there."

I take the photograph album from him and sit down on the cot. It's got that musty old smell, and the leatherbound cover is worn in places like someone has handled it regularly. I open it and the first photo is one of Jamus, he must be only sixteen or so. He's wearing a fringed suede jacket and a stars and stripes bandana around his head. I stifle a laugh.

"We thought we were in Easy Rider, I was proud as punch then, ‘cause I'd just customized my own chopper. Took me weeks to scrape together the cash to get spare parts. That was one sweet ride."

I continue turning the pages, there's some photos of my dad with his arms around my mom, another of her holding a baby who I guess must be Tracker. They look happy, I don't remember much about my dad as he wasn't around a lot when I was young. Why wasn't he? It's like the first five years of my life had huge gaps in it. I was about to ask Jamus, when a photograph makes me gasp. It's a shot of the Hellfire Hounds, I suppose it's like a class photo where they're all lined up. Standing on the edge of the group is a middle-aged man with long dark hair and a handlebar moustache, I'm already shaking, but when I look closely at his forearm, I feel like I'm about to pass out.

"Who's that?" I ask, holding the book out to Jamus.

"Don't ya recognize your Gramps? That's King, though them were the days when he still had hair."

He's talking, but I'm not hearing anything of what he's saying. I'm back in the past, five years old on the day my mom died. The scary man trying to reach under the bed where I was hiding. The tattoo on his forearm was a dog, Snoopy. I feel a chill run through me.

Jamus' voice breaks through, "Yeah, he'd gotten it as a joke, but we told him that no one was gonna take him seriously with a fucking cartoon character, so it was reworked as a hellhound."

My grandfather killed my mom, of that, I'm sure. Does Jamus know? I look at the old man, but he's gone back to flicking through the album with a faraway look in his eyes.

I have to get out of here, I have to get as far away from the Hellfire Hounds as possible, because if I don't, then my mom's fate awaits me.