Reckless Fear (The Black Vipers #1) Read online

  I’d broken my damn dick.

  Nancy was in my face, asking me if I was alright but the pain was excruciating and my vision flooded with little white dots. I heard Braxton laughing somewhere in the background, “You stupid ass.”

  Stash was leaned over, hands on his knees breathing deep like he was going to pass out…that would make two of us because I was going to pass out for sure.

  “Look at me Tight,” Nancy’s voice was calm and steady, “just breathe. Breathe.”

  “Jesus, is he giving birth over there?” Stash squeaked out.

  The extra person in the room appeared at the bed side next to Nancy. Her long hair was pulled back into a pony tail that hung over one shoulder. She had gloves on and a syringe in her hand. Moving the sheet back just enough, she attached a syringe to something on the tube. I heard her say, “One, two, three” There was a stinging when the catheter slid out and then it was over. She grabbed the piss bag and took it and the tube into the bathroom.

  Braxton and Stash watched her as she marched into the bathroom, shaking her head and grumbling under her breath, “Damn Bikers.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Yeah, man. It was him. He’s got one hell of a price on your head. That prick and his VP have got to go.” Braxton leaned back onto the chair he’d pulled next to my bed. Visiting hours were almost over and after the catheter fiasco a few days ago, he’d sent everyone back to The Pit.

  The club pays Nancy a nice salary to work in this shitty little town two hours from us for that exact reason. To have a place to go unnoticed. A roomful of bikers drew a lot of attention and we were trying to be discreet.

  She made good money being a nurse but with what the club supplemented her, she lived a pretty nice life.

  It also assures us a place to take our wounded. It wasn't a fool proof plan, but Nancy was able to get doctors to sign orders and look the other way when need be.

  I didn't know how she did it and didn't care. I’m sure someone knew all the dirty details and I was fine not having the privilege.

  This small town had become our second home. The club even had a “safe house” here. An apartment in a security building where brothers who needed to disappear, could go and hide out until whatever trouble they’d conjured up passed over. It’d been used for everything from avoiding the cops to hiding from a jaded old lady.

  I’d rather be running from the police. From what I’d seen, there was a higher survival rate.

  Personally, I’d never been to the safe house. Since the moment I’d been patched in, I’d never felt the need to hide from anyone. If someone had a problem with me, they knew where to find me. But we all knew the location and the key codes to get in. Wasn’t much of a safe house if you had to call someone for directions.

  Braxton blew out a ragged breath. “We figured the asshole would be hell-bent on killing you if he ever took over the club, but never thought he’d risk the truce. They’ve gotta be hurting financially too.”

  A long drawn out silence passed between the two of us before he leaned up, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at the ground.

  “Pops declared it.”

  “Aw, shit,” I said, rubbing my head. “Hate that fucking truce but it doesn’t mean I want Viper blood spilt on my account.”

  “That’s not on you, dude. Pops is pissed, said if anyone was stupid enough to put a hit out on his Sergeant at Arms, they deserved war. The brothers want their revenge.”

  I exhaled, letting the realty of the situation settle into me.

  “Lots of people are going to die, VP.”

  He shifted back into his chair, resolve in his eyes as he nodded his head.

  Three months ago, the President of the Dark Riders who had taken over after Pops had killed Big Frank, ended up dead in his bed. But that wasn’t the worst of it. His old lady, VP and Road Captain lay next to him. All naked, all in compromising positions and all with necks slit so severely, blood sprays covered the damn ceiling.

  Everyone knew Maverick McBride, the new Pres, and his sleazy VP Rip, had killed them. I really didn't give a shit who died or how. The inner workings of another club was none of my business and honestly a dead Rider was a dead Rider.

  But Maverick, he was a different kind of biker. Now that he had taken over, it meant big problems for us.

  Bikers were all cruel in some way, had to be to survive the lifestyle. Justice was looked at as something we could bend and mold to our situation. We all lived by our own form of the law but tried to keep a code of ethics. No women, no kids.

  Maverick didn’t care, he killed for fun.

  He liked the sport of it, the hunt…the chase and the final trophy. Stories of how he treated his club girls made my blood boil. I don’t give a shit what the situation, no woman should ever be tortured for pure entertainment.

  When the club had taken me in and word spread The Vipers had a new prospect, people started talking like they always do. It didn’t take long for the story of me killing the poor bastard in the warehouse started to circulate. The problem was, the guy I stabbed in the chest over and over until he took his very last breath…Maverick’s dad.

  It was the start of my love hate relationship with him.

  He loved to hate me and I loved that he hated me. I ate that shit up. Every time we had any interaction, I made sure he knew I planned to take him out the same way I did his dad. It made him bat shit crazy with blood lust for me.

  Braxton’s phone rang. Digging it out of his back pocket, a big smile pulled at his mouth.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  He handed me the phone. Stash’s dip shit face took up the entire screen with a Facetime request.

  “I thought he went to visit Grandma Lilly,” I asked.

  “He did.”

  I pushed accept and the screen lit up with the precious face of the woman we all called Grandma Lil. As one of the first Old Ladies in the club, she was tough as nails and never missed an opportunity to remind us of it. She joked if anything ever happened to Pops, she would pack her shit, leave the nursing home and run the Vipers herself. She had my vote.

  Her blue hair was done up in some sort of poof I thought looked like a cotton ball but would never tell her that. Not if I wanted to leave the room with my manhood intact.

  She held the phone in her hand but looked to the side.

  “What kind of fuckery is this,” she asked to Stash, I assumed.

  His voice came through, “Gram, please. Don’t say that word.”

  She was actually his grandmother by blood. Stash had been raised in the club and was third generation Viper.

  “I’ve been saying fuck since before you were born. You’re not married to a man like your grandfather without fuck being a mainstay in your vocabulary.”

  I busted out laughing. As far as I was concerned, this woman was the best thing ever created and I loved the shit out of her. She heard my laugh and finally gave me her attention.

  “Tight, my love. How the hell are you, boy? Stash tells me you went and got yourself ambushed and shot. That’s a special kind of stupid, isn’t it?”

  Stash’s voice came through again, sounding defeated, “Shit, Grandma.” He grabbed at the phone tilting it toward him.

  ”I did not tell her. I only told her you’d been shot. She came up with the rest on her own.”

  Everyone knew it was taboo to talk club business, but she had a way of getting information out of anyone.

  “Speak up, boy. Did you or did you not get shot?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And was it or was it not stupid for you three to go into that situation?”

  “Gram, you know I can’t talk about it.”

  She shook her head, telling me how disappointed she was. But I smiled as big as my dry lips would allow as I noticed she had her Old Lady cut on.

  “Love the cut, Gram.” I said.

  She winked and smiled with lips she still colored red every day. She knew she wasn’t allowed to wear i
t. Pops put the end to it when Gen was killed. He didn't want anybody to be able to identify the women as one of ours.

  His heart was in the right place but Gram Lil put up a fight worthy of any of the brothers.

  She reminded him she’d went through the fires of Hell to be an Old Lady and informed him nothing gave her more pride than being married to Stash’s Gramps and being property of the Vipers. And then she told him to go fuck himself and he would have to pry it off her cold, dead back.

  They’d made a compromise.

  She could wear it in her room at the nursing home. The club also employed special people to take care of her and the Administrator and Director of Nursing had been on some pretty lavish vacations since Gram became a permanent resident. All financed by the club.

  “Can you at least be more careful?” She asked with an unusual soften in her voice. My heart warmed as concern passed across her face. “The thought of something happening to one of you boys, well, it scares me to death.”

  “I’m sorry, Gram. I promise I will be more careful, just for you.”

  She threw her head back and laughed, “Fucking liar!”

  Braxton and I busted up. I grabbed at my side, the laughing causing pain but I didn’t give a shit. Gram was a treasure and I wanted to absorb as much of her as I could.

  “Ok, boys. I’ve had about enough of this.” She lifted a finger toward the screen and her voice turned stern. “Come and see me when you get out of that hospital.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” I said.

  She ran her finger over the screen, like she was touching my face. “Goodbye, boy.”

  “Bye, Gram.”

  The screen went dead and I felt a little lonely. A personality like hers engulfed everyone in her midst. She came into your world, swirling like a tornado and when she left she took all the thunder with her, leaving only the aftermath of her beauty.

  I yawned. Braxton took it as a sign and stood. “I’m going to head out. Do you need anything?”

  I shook my head.

  “Ok, Brother. I’ll be back sometime tomorrow,” he headed toward the door.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said.

  He turned back, “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. You need to stay there and figure out this mess with Maverick. Those guns are somewhere. When I get out of here, I’m going after them. And after Maverick, just for fun.”

  He nodded his head, running his hand down his beard and then growled, “Plus, that fucking outdoor MC Rally for Peace is in two weeks. Justin and Dane have been working like mad men trying to get the plans in place.

  “Oh, shit. Is it that time of year already?”

  Once a year, all the clubs in a 300 mile radius come together in what the news outlets claim was a show of peace. It was the most ridiculously fucked up thing we did.

  It started in the eighties when gang violence was the DA’s hard on and the hot topic in every election. For some reason all area politicians, most of whom were getting monthly envelopes from one club or another, decided they needed to back Senator Richardson’s claims to be making progress toward cleaning up the states. I’m sure it looked good.

  We were going because Pops had said we were. Braxton thought it was a bad idea and voted against it every year, but until his cut read President…we went to the damn thing.

  I laid my head back against my pillow, the pain meds starting to kick in. During the day the meds kept the pain at bay, but at night the nurses kicked it up a notch to make sure I slept.

  “I should be out in a couple days. I’ll let you know when you can pick me up.”

  I barely registered the door closing.

  The best part of the meds, they gave me a complete release of tension. I normally tried everything I could do to relax but it never worked. These pills were like gold and I suddenly felt a brotherhood with every street junkie out there.

  “Yeah,” I sighed, talking to myself as the floating feeling started. “I totally get it.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Softly falling footsteps interrupted my peaceful sleep. Not enough to open my eyes but enough to be sensitive to the presence of another person in the room. I surrounded myself with the false security the hospital provided deciding I wasn't going to worry about it.

  Normally, survival was my main objective and I considered everyone a threat unless proved otherwise. But right now, if someone wanted to kill me, I was perfectly content being an easy target. I was too tired and relaxed to give one shit about it.

  I drew in a deep breath, willing my body to slip back into the dream free abyss the pain medication provided. I wanted to be taken deep. A place where my mind and body could get a reprieve from everything this life expected from me.

  A light touch on my wrist pulled me back to the surface. I held my wrist off the mattress, knowing the routine. The nurse scanned my ID bracelet and gently laid my arm back down.

  Her touch lingered softly on the top of my hand, brushing across my knuckles before slowly moving down my fingers. My body ignited.

  It was a kind, intentional touch. A thousand unspoken words passed through our skin on skin contact. Her touch…powerful enough to start a war, gentle enough to ease the worst of pains.

  My eyelids fluttered as I struggled to open them. I needed to see the person capable of showing such depth of emotion with one simple gesture.

  I caught a glimpse of the nurse as she rushed past the end of my bed, a new IV bag in hand. She immediately went to work programming the IV machine. My heavy eyelids opened and closed slowly as I turned toward her.

  ”Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered without looking at me. Her cheeks were flushed with the most beautiful shade of pink. She nibbled at her bottom lip as her trembling fingers lingered over the buttons on the machine.

  Several silky strands of dark hair fell loosely around her face and she struggled to get them back into the low bun she wore. Her fingers hesitated at her neck, as her eyes dropped to the floor for just a second and then quickly back to the machine. She pulled back her shoulders, focusing once again on the task at hand.

  My entire world came to a slamming halt.

  A flurry of intense memories of a girl I knew came back with a vengeance as I stared at her olive skin. I gripped the sheets in my fists, hoping it would center me as a tremor started in my core.

  The years had made her face and body more womanly, soft and curvy in all the right places. She was even more beautiful than I could have ever dreamed. My perfect type. My Sasha.

  It had to be her.

  It couldn’t be her.

  My mind scrambled with possibilities as a train-wreck of emotions swirled inside my exhausted body.

  The tightness in my throat threatened to choke me out as I tried to speak. I swallowed past the scratch, coughing suddenly.

  She flinched at the sound and our eyes met for the first time. She let out a small breath and my stomach twisted with hope. This was my chance.

  Her eyes lingered then dropped from my face. Dismissing me, she turned away.

  She didn’t know me. She didn't remember.

  My chest tightened and I inhaled sharply, rubbing my palm over the physical pain being near her caused. I closed my eyes, trying to fight the worthlessness washing over me.

  Why would she want to remember me? Our time together was nothing more than a horrible memory for her. I’d been a weak, stupid boy who’d chosen his own fears and insecurities over her.

  I blinked rapidly, trying to clear out the hazy edges of my vision.

  “Are you having pain? I can get you something stronger than what’s ordered already.”

  I couldn’t drag my eyes from her beautiful face. She stood with her hands on her hips, fingers digging in. I also couldn't trust myself to speak, so I just shook my head.

  “Fine,” her tone terse as she walked around my bed. “If you change your mind, push the button”

  I fought everything inside of me screaming to pull her into the bed and wrap my arm
s protectively around her. I’d whisper all of the promises I’d made before except this time, beg for a second chance to prove to her I’d finally become the fucking man she deserved.

  My heart ached, knowing in front of me stood everything my life had been built on. All of these years longing for what she had made me feel so easily.

  When she’d given herself to me, she’d done more than gift me with her innocence, she’d made me feel strong for the first time. She’d believed I was capable of taking care of her. That I could protect her.

  No one had ever thought of me as more than a throwaway. I was discarded like trash by everyone…everyone except her.

  I’d done so many twisted things in my life to get to where I was now. If I could just touch her once, it would make all the wrong I’d done in my life fade away.

  But I was too afraid to move; suddenly I was a boy again, terrified and inadequate.

  My mind began to spin. I was so weak, so tired.

  Maybe she was a dream.

  Maybe this was all a dream.

  Maybe I was dying.

  Had whoever was in charge of death taken pity on me and replaced all the emptiness and fear with this? A vision of the only purity I’d ever known. Could I be lucky enough to pass into the next life with her as my last memory?

  I struggled to figure this all out before she was gone. I wanted to hear her voice again, feel her touch.

  And then it became very clear.

  Yes.

  This was my death…in one way or another.

  It was exactly the kind of painful ending I deserved. The great above hadn’t blessed me with serenity. Instead, he would torture me with her closeness. Leaving me with a vision of the one thing I’d wanted my entire life but would never have.

  This may not be the type of death where I was buried six feet under, but the placing of a seed in my mind. The teasing of my soul. A haunting of my spirit that would follow me the rest of my life. She would never be mine.

  I suddenly felt on fire as possessiveness fueled my body. I wouldn't lose her again.

  “Sasha?”

  Her eyes flashed to mine but moved to the other side of the room.