Biker Taken (The Lost Souls MC Series Book 6)

  Fuck, I need a drink. I haven’t been sober enough to remember this much, and this clearly in years. I don’t allow myself too.

  A door above me sounds like it is being thrown open and all across the basement ceiling, dust falls on top of me from heavy, banging movements. It’s not long before the door at the top of the stairs flies opens and more than one set of footsteps rush down the steps.

  Danny has been the only one to come down here since I’ve been here and I’m interested now to see what is going on.

  When the huddle gets to the bottom of the stairs, it becomes clear one of them is here against their will. His hands are tied behind his back and when they trip him to the floor, his hoodie rides up his stomach and I know exactly who they have taken. They’ve taken his cut, the same as mine and there is a blood stain seeping through the bag on his head. It’s obvious he put up a fight.

  Danny rips the bag off and his face lights up as he watches our reactions to seeing each other.

  “Oak…” he croaks.

  “Alright, Sparky boy, fancy seeing you here,” I mutter, not giving Danny the satisfaction of seeing my anger.

  “Yeah, fancy that. I thought I’d pop in and see ya,” he grins, hiding his anger too.

  This is what happens when you’re true brothers, you can bounce of each other and know how to read the situation.

  “Whatever,” Danny mutters, “We’ll wait this out and see what Cas does now.”

  Danny and his two men leave, Danny watching us as he climbs the stairs.

  Once the door clicks shut, Sparky edges himself closer and looks at my face.

  “You look like shit, brother,” he feels the need to tell me, “Do you look worse than you feel?”

  “This is nothing, but I need a fucking drink.”

  “They not giving you water at least?”

  “Some but that’s not what I meant. How did they get you?”

  He growls angrily at himself and mutters, “Got me coming out of my house, I gave as good as I got but they got their gun out faster than I did.”

  “Fuck, do you know where we are?”

  I vaguely remember going to a clubhouse but then they threw me in the back of a van and we drove again. I was knocked out and woke up here.

  “Nah, I had the sack on my head.”

  Banging the back of my head against the wall in frustration, I look at my brother and assess his injuries.

  He’s a little banged up, but he’s still strong.

  “How tight are you tied up?” I ask him.

  He wriggles his wrists and even I can see his ties don’t let up much. His ankles are tied just as tight.

  “Give up, you’ll hurt yourself.”

  “You don’t look like you could fight your way out of here anyway, Cas will find out where we are soon enough. We’ll have to wait him out.”

  I have been waiting it out and the only progress I’ve seen is the fucker above us getting his hands on Sparky. I feel bad for thinking this way but my head is spinning and I just want a fucking drink.

  “Tell me what the fuck has been going on since I’ve been here.”

  Listening to him talking will take my mind off the drink.

  He goes on to tell me about the betrayal lining the Devil’s Bastards and how Noah and a few guys are now staying with the Lost Souls. My memory reverts back to the night I met Shellie when he informs me about the shootout at the club.

  “Was anyone taken out?”

  “Surprisingly, no.”

  “Was he close to finding this location?”

  Without answering verbally, he shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut.

  Part Three

  Chapter Nineteen

  Oak - 1990

  I’ve never been afraid to walk through my own door before, and I must say, I don’t fucking like it. The last time I walked through it, I was on my toes as I crept out the house as Shellie slept upstairs. After a night of arguing and a lot of smashing shit around the house, I flaked out and didn’t say good bye. It’s now been four days and the run that was meant to be a two-day round trip turned into a four-day round trip and the reason why I stopped off and bought an apology present.

  She likes her charms for her bracelet and I managed to find a heart shaped charm she doesn’t have. I’m hoping it will be enough for her to see I am sorry.

  Inhaling deeply, I turn the key in the lock but I don’t open the door. When I walk over the threshold, I won’t be shocked if the arguing picks up from where we left off. I can’t do anything right these days apart from buy her gifts and show her how much I love her; I’m running out of ideas how to make shit up to her.

  Getting it over and done with, I open the door slowly so the creak I was meant to make disappear two weeks ago doesn’t alert my return. The house is quiet, the only sound being the shrill laughter floating through from the television set.

  Curled up on the couch and wide awake, Shellie ignores my return and focuses on the TV show. I don’t stop until I bend down in front of her and block her view.

  “Move,” she grinds out, still not looking at me.

  She’s still mad, I knew she would be, but I had hoped she would’ve cooled off by now.

  Ignoring her as she ignores me, I drop completely to my knees in front of her and wait for her to look at me.

  “I’m sorry, okay?” I begin.

  “What are you actually sorry for?” she asks, sounding more reserved than mad.

  “For acting shitty and leavin’ without sayin’ goodbye before I left.”

  “Not for leaving at all or for not coming back for four fucking days? I haven’t slept properly since you left, I’m tired and now you have decided to come home, I’m going to bed.”

  Kicking her legs off the couch, she pushes around me and turns the television off as she walks out of the room, leaving me in the dark.

  I hear the bedroom door close behind her and I heave myself to my feet. Plodding through to the kitchen, I make sure the back door is locked before going up to bed myself.

  We’ve argued for most of our relationship but we wouldn’t go to sleep until we hashed everything out, just lately it takes days to get back to a good point.

  With her back to me, I take my time undressing and climb in, careful not to get too close to her. The last thing I want to do is cause her to storm out of the room again.

  It feels good to be lying in my bed again and it feels even better with her beside me. It doesn’t matter if she’s pissed with me, she’s still here.

  “I ain’t sorry for goin’ on the run, but I am sorry for upsettin’ ya. I fuckin’ hate arguing with you, especially just before I leave.”

  I’m not one to apologise for the heck of it, just to move on and be done with a fight. I apologise for what I feel I done wrong for, but nothing else. I wouldn’t be true if I did.

  “All we do is fight nowadays,” she murmurs, quietly into the darkness.

  “I know,” I agree.

  “What are we going to do about it?” she asks.

  This is what I love most about her, she always looks to the future. She’s not one to stay in the moment and prolong an argument once everything’s been yelled and hollered about. After so long, she just wants a solution. Other brothers at the club go through hell with their old ladies and they never let shit go. Shellie is nothing like them, under the arguing and fighting, we are strong and we both know it’s just another fight we’ll get through together.

  “I’m gonna hold you all night because I’ve missed you and in the morning, I’ll make you breakfast and we’ll talk. Properly talk, I promise.”

  She rolls around and snuggles into the blankets, her beautiful, tired eyes peering over the top at me, “Do you really promise?”

  “I really do, darlin’.”

  “You’re really going to be here in the morning? You’re not going to run to the club and leave me hanging, again?”

  “I said, I promise, Shell.”

  Content and believing me, she
turns her back to me and for a brief second, I think she is going to ignore me and go to sleep. However, she pushes back and her body fits flush against mine.

  Placing my arm over her hip, I pull her tight against me.

  “You feel so good,” I sigh, inhaling the sweet smell of her shampoo.

  “And I’ll still feel good tomorrow after we’ve talked, but tonight, I just want to sleep knowing you’re home with me.”

  Giving her what she needs, I gently kiss the back of her head and get comfortable.

  “Fair enough.”

  ****

  There are no aches in my back, no crick in my neck and my eyes no longer burn from exhaustion. It feels good to be home. Last night comes back to me and I sweep my arm across the bed and Shellie is gone.

  Opening my eyes, I find myself alone and the sun is shining brightly through the window. Rolling out of bed, I follow the scent of strong coffee.

  The pot is still hot and Shellie is yet to pour herself a cup.

  “I was gonna make you breakfast in bed,” I remind her, picking up two cups from the drainer.

  “I’m not hungry, I’m more interested in the talk you promised we’d have.”

  Pouring two cups to the brim, I join her at the table and fill hers with sugar and cream, just the way she likes it.

  I slide into the chair next to her and take a long sip of the burning liquid.

  “Do you remember what we were arguing about before you left?” she asks, beginning our talk.

  “You didn’t want me to leave and I wasn’t listening to you,” I nod, wondering if the broken crockery has been replaced while I was away.

  “Yeah, same old fight huh?”

  “Darlin’, you met me in the club. This is what I do, you’ve known this for six years. Tell me what’s got you actin’ like this now?”

  “Do you seriously not know?” she sighs, frowning.

  I shake my head and think back to our argument, I can’t remember a specific reason that would explain this.

  “The Raging Riders shoot at you every chance they get, you didn’t come home for four days after you promised me you would only be gone for two days and you’re asking me why I’m like this? It’s because I fucking love you and every time you leave this house, I’m petrified you won’t come home. I don’t sleep, I can’t eat, it’s hard to breathe, I’m useless until you walk through the door and I know you’re still alive. I hate living like this.”

  I’m so focused on the truthful words pouring from her mouth, I don’t see the tears falling freely until she finished her admission.

  Pulling her towards me, her chair scrapes across the tiled floor until she is right in front of me. Sweeping her hair away from her face and behind her ear, I keep hold of her cheek in my palm and sweep my thumb under her eye, collecting tears as I do.

  “In all the years we’ve been together, have I ever given you anything to worry about? I’ve always come home in one piece and alive and it’s because I’ve got you waitin’ on me. Knowing you’re in my life gives me reason not to end up in the ground.”

  “You can’t say you won’t end up dead just because I’m here, you risk your life every time you leave this house and you know it.”

  There isn’t any way of putting this she will believe. She can be as stubborn as a mule once she has something in her head.

  “I can say it, because I know it’s true, I just wish you’d bloody believe me, darlin’. I get that you worry but you don’t have to, not about me, not ever.”

  “It’s not like a tap I can turn off when I like, it’s eating away at me and it never stops. When you go on runs, it only gets worse. I love you, John, but it’s destroying me.”

  I can’t bear to look at her pain, hanging my head, I know myself she doesn’t need to kill herself worrying about me, but I’d never tell her she’s wrong for feeling like it.

  “I don’t want you feelin’ like this, what can I say to make you believe that when I’m out, I’m watchin’ my back constantly, I have the club watchin’ my back. It will take more than a Raging motherfucker to take me down.”

  Lifting my head, my eyes meet hers and I can see straight off, she still isn’t having any of it. Winding my hand around the back of her neck, I rest my forehead on hers, and say, “I love that you love me so much you worry for me, but don’t. Have some fuckin’ faith in me to come back to you, just like I have done for years.”

  “It’s not that easy…”

  “Yes, it is, stop worryin’.” I cut her off and pull back, “I don’t want to keep arguing with you, we either put this to rest now or…”

  “Or what?”

  “Or, we live our lives fighting and struggling to make up each time. I know what I want for us, you have to decide what you want.”

  “I don’t want to fight either, John…”

  “Then let’s move on, from today onwards, it’s me and you, we’re both alive and life is good.”

  She sits staring at me while she thinks it over and I didn’t realise how tense I was until she finally comes out with, “Fine, when you go out, I won’t care, I won’t think anything.”

  “Whatever works for you, darlin’, just as long as this doesn’t keep happenin’. Go and get dressed, and I’ll make us some breakfast.”

  She gives me one last longing look before leaving the room. There’s a party at the club tonight and I think she needs it as much as I do. I don’t like seeing her stress when there’s nothing to stress over and tonight will be the perfect distraction.

  Chapter Twenty

  Shellie

  How can a heart full of love for one man, be filled with so much pain because of that man? It feels good now because he’s with me and holding my hand as we walk into the clubhouse, the next time he leaves to go on club business, it will be back to shit and the only reason I stay and endure the turmoil, is because I love him.

  But, like I said, when he’s with me, everything is perfect and everyone is happy. They all greet us like we’ve been away for a year, not a few days and John saw them before he came home last night. It couldn’t be more obvious the club is important to him and he to them. I find myself growing resentful of them, the club as a whole. They have given me everything I needed but I’m not stupid, the respect and loyalty I receive from them is because who I am living with.

  As usual, most of the guys are already drunk, loose women are vying for their attention and cigarette smoke fills my lungs against my will.

  In the beginning, the club was fun, dangerous even, but as the years have passed the dangerous fun has turned into fear. I live consumed in it every day and I can’t bring myself to walk away from it to save myself, to save the cracks in my heart becoming permanent. I told John this morning I wouldn’t worry anymore, but like I said and like he didn’t listen, I can’t just turn it off.

  “Where’s Ray and Flo?” I ask Mark and Micky as we join them at their table, dragging my thoughts out of the depressing pit I find myself in all the time.

  “Hey, Shell, how are you, sweetheart?” Micky asks, smiling brightly.

  He’s always friendly and always easy going.

  “I’m good,” I lie, straight through my teeth.

  “Rayna and Flo will be over soon,” Mark tells me.

  Since Rayna became pregnant, she barely makes it over to the clubhouse so it will be nice to see her tonight. I briefly heard from her a couple of days ago when she called to let me know the guys wouldn’t be home when they told us they would be.

  “I thought we’d leave about ten tomorrow morning, you two good with that?” Mark asks and gets my full attention.

  Leave? They’ve only just got back. John hasn’t said anything about leaving again, but then again, why would he? In his eyes, he’s only just got back in my good books, he wouldn’t want to rock the boat again just yet.

  “Yeah, I’m all good,” Micky grins and I look at John to wait and see how he reacts.

  “Ten’s good,” he says, not meeting my eyes.

&n
bsp; His arm snakes around my shoulders and I tense under his lying ass touch. He doesn’t surprise me anymore; I must be such a headache to him for him to start hiding things from me.

  “I reached out to Denzel and told him we had to move our meet forward, I don’t want to be gone near Ray’s due date.”

  “Fair enough, Flo said she’ll stay with her and make sure she’s good.”

  John doesn’t say much and it makes me laugh, he’s adamant he’s a Lost Soul and he’ll go where he wants, when he wants, but he still doesn’t have the balls to tell me.

  “Yeah, Ray said,” he says to Micky and then turns to me, “You should stay tonight and then spend the day with the girls, save being on your own while we’re gone,” he says, probably trying to save an argument for his brother.

  “Maybe.”

  I don’t want to stay here tonight; I want to be in the privacy of my own home when I demand answers from my so called loyal boyfriend.

  I keep the smile on my face, I sip my drink until the glass is empty, I nod at the right times and in the right places, but I’m not listening anymore. The talk is the same as always, the women are as desperate as normal around us and I can’t find the fun in the night I once used to.

  The club is not the same to me anymore, I understand John will always be the club but I can’t be. I just don’t know how to separate my relationship with John and my relationship with the club.

  Rayna and Flo, even Kitty, they all love the club, it winds me up that I can’t be like them.

  Thinking of her, she walks through the door and is immediately the centre of attention. Mark’s eyes light up when he sees his wife and he stands to help her sit down.

  Her rounding belly sits perfectly under her tee and Mark’s hand protectively rests upon it.

  A twang hits my chest and I immediately squash it. I don’t allow myself to think of starting a family.

  Sometimes I imagine having a child with John and for a minute I enjoy the dream, I picture holding a baby girl wrapped in a pink blanket, I’m sitting with John in bed on a Sunday morning and everything is perfect. Then, reality bites me on the ass and the baby is crying and crying and John as usual, is out on club business. I’d basically raise the baby on my own and until I know I can handle that level of responsibility; a child is only a dream.