Текст книги "Heaven Sent"
Автор книги: Avelyn Paige
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HEAVEN SENT
Avelyn Paige
Copyright © 2015 Lauren Davis as Avelyn Paige
EBOOK EDITION
Cover Designer: The Final Wrap
Editor and Formatter: Ready, Set, Edit
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This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Cold. All I can feel is a deep chill blanketing my body. My eyes open to complete darkness as a voice calls to me. Its muffled tones send shivers down my spine with every garbled word. A sense of familiarity floats around me as its words become clearer.
“Run, Dani,” it pleas from beyond the black veil shrouding the room. “Escape while you can,” it continues. Panic courses through my veins. Where in the hell am I? Why can’t I see anything? The pleas go unanswered as my voice fails to render sound.
“Help!” I scream internally, “Please, fucking help me!”
The voice’s call fades with each word.
You need to get the hell out of here, Dani. You need to move. Find a wall and escape, I coach to myself. A cold chill of air sweeps into the darkness encompassing me as I try to feel the space around me. My fingers plunge into a dense, sticky liquid as I crawl forward, causing my body to slide with each movement. A hard surface is finally inching its way under my fingers.
Crawling upward, I splay my hands against the cool wall. “You’re on your feet, Dani. The hardest part is over now. Time to find a door or a light switch, something to get us out of here,” my internal coach continues.
Keeping close to the wall, I finally find a switch. Flicking it upward, the light shines brilliantly. As my eyes adjust to the light, my hands come into my vision. A scream barrels out of my throat when I see the sticky, red blood covering my hands and clothes. My heart races as I frantically wipe the blood away. Blood begins to pool at my feet, inching toward me. Rushing away from the blood, I fall backward into a solid but warm obstacle. Before I can turn around, hands grasp my arms as a person’s hot breath trails down my neck.
“Hello, Dani,” a different voice whispers in my ear. “Welcome to Hell. You’re mine now,” the voice crackles as my body is pulled into black oblivion.
I scream as I wake up, huddling against the cool glass of the bus window. Instinctually glancing at my hands, I find them clean. A sigh of relief forces my body into relaxing when I notice several sets of eyes staring at me. “I’m fine,” I tell the others that sit around me on the bus. “It was just a nightmare. I don’t sleep well in moving vehicles.” The lie spills from my mouth just as I’ve practiced in preparation of my nightmares happening in public. I know that simple statement eases those around me, but it does nothing to ease the pain and fear enveloping my body. I know the truth about the origins of my screams, but I keep those close to my heart. If any of the people surrounding me on this bus knew the truth, I’d be in handcuffs immediately. These nightmares are far from fictional nighttime fantasies. They are my subconscious’ attempt to make me relive the worst night of my life.
It’s a memory of the darkness that lies back home. The origin may be washed from my hands, but it will always stain my soul, never will it be washed white from its contamination. That night ruined my semi-happy life. I had a family and friends that loved me, but love isn’t something I can afford to rely on any longer. It can’t keep me safe from him. That gruesome night set me on my escape path. I left behind the girl I was and the life I had in Cleveland when they died that night. I had no choice but to leave while the demon plaguing my life slept. It hurt to leave the only place I’ve ever known, but I’ve forced myself to never look back. I would end up just like them. This was the only way I could have some semblance of peace and serenity in my life. I can only hope that I will find them in the destination that lays ahead of me.
Just thinking about their faces allows tears to pool in my eyelids. Their faces and voices linger in the back of my mind for hours after every nightmare ends. You need to stay strong if you’re going to survive this, Dani, I chant to myself. I can’t let the darkness win. I need to fight to survive.
Wiping away the tears, I stare out the window of the bus. It’s been three days since I watched Cleveland shrink in the distance. Ohio has been my home my entire life and I just left it in the past like a dusty, unwanted photograph. I didn’t want to leave, but the things that happened in that house forced me to escape. I tried to stay but I knew that if I did, things would only get worse. With nowhere else to go, I took a taxi to the closest bus depot in the middle of the night and never looked back. The bus wasn’t exactly the quickest way to travel, but it was the cheapest. Cheap is the only thing I can afford right now; I am running on financial fumes and need to find a new source of income quickly.
The time I’ve spent on this bus has given me time to plan out what my new life might be like. I decided quickly that staying under the radar and finding a job would be the hardest part. Even if I manage to procure a fake ID, I will never be able to find work that involves the usage of my social security number. Being paid under the table and off the books is my only alternative and will likely be a pretty shitty job.
I just hope that the $760 in my pocket will secure me a clean room and food until I figure shit out, but life in California isn’t exactly as economic as it is in Ohio so I will need to be frugal with my spending. To be honest, I don’t know why I chose California as my destination. Maybe it was the fact it was the first Greyhound bus that left the Cleveland station when I barreled into the bus depot at three in the morning. Or maybe because it was as far away as I could get from the house of horrors. Honestly, I didn’t care where I went. My need to get away from the situation outweighed my ideal destination. Had I chosen, I would have gone down south to New Orleans or Florida, but my cards were dealt for California.
I had grabbed a map before I boarded the bus to use as a research tool for the bus’s destination. I’ll admit that Upland, California looks promising on paper. It is a small suburb on the outskirts of the city and has everything I need from thrift stores to Wal-Mart. Even the housing options don’t seem too outlandishly priced. Using the Wi-Fi on the bus, I browsed housing options on my iPad. I needed to live on my own, but rent for a one-bedroom apartment was far more than I could handle. Knowing I could be tracked using my old e-mail address thanks to all of those crime shows I used to watch with my dad, the first thing I did was create a new one; I wasn’t about to let my newly found freedom be snatched away because of an e-mail. I spent much of my first day on the bus browsing a rental website looking for something I could afford. It wasn’t until today that a woman had emailed me back and even offered to pick me up from the bus station to look at the house. The rent was affordable at 400 dollars per month for a split of a two-bedroom furnished apartment. The landlord even pays the utilities, making it even more appealing. As long as it isn’t a whore house or a drug den, I’ll likely be calling it my home in only a few hours. I just hope my potential roommate isn’t a fucking nutcase.
The bus cruises through the desert and soon I find myself stepping out of the bus and into the sweltering heat. They may not have humidity here but even without it, 102 degrees is still fucking hot. The bus depot has beautiful flowering trees everywhere, which surprises me since I assumed with the heat that nothing but cacti could even grow here. Only having the picture she sent me to go by, I search the crowded station for my potential roommate. I finally spot her leaning against a post. She looks normal enough. Her bleach blonde hair is drawn upward into a ponytail. She’s wearing what I would call the typical California look with a tank top, shorts and flip-flops. She seems like a low-grade Valley girl, but at least she doesn’t seem like an axe murderer. I can at least deal with a Valley girl. Living with an axe murderer would mean blood stains on the carpets and a loss of our security deposit or well, my life. She scans the crowd several times looking for me before I approach her.
“Are you Dani?” she asks, flipping her long ponytail behind her.
“Yes, are you Erica?”
A huge smile spreads across her face. “That’s me!” she squeals in delight. “Please, call me Ricca. I hate Erica because it makes me sound so prim and proper. If you can’t tell, I’m about as far as you can get from either of those ladylike traits.” Her giggles and excited tone puts me at ease. She’s friendly and seems like a fun person to be around, which is good for me because I need someone like that in my life. I can already tell that she’s a little ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. “Are you ready to go see your new place? I really hope you'll like it here. I’ve had so many creepy scumbags trying to move in with me that I felt like my apartment was starting to be a half-way house for the lost and perverted. One guy asked me if he could do my dirty laundry. Gross, right?” Her laughter is loud and contagious as she throws her head back with her giggles.
A perfect stranger has managed to make me crack a smile for the first time in days. Her bubbly personality is just what I need to feel normal. I’m tired of showing the world my resting bitch face. I need to have fun with the time I have left in this world. She directs me to her bright yellow Jeep. I try to stow rolling my eyes because I knew she’d have something bright and bubbly for a vehicle to match her personality. I slide across the warm seat and toss my bag between my feet as she peels out of the parking lot and turns to merge onto the freeway.
I try to count the cars passing us on the crowded freeway, but after a few minutes, I give up. The amount of people I see driving on the highways blows me away. Sure, Cleveland has its periods of rush hour traffic during the workweek, but I’ve never experienced anything like this at one o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon. Ricca weaves through the traffic like a seasoned pro and finally takes an exit ramp. She laughs when she sees me clutching the seat-belt strapped across my chest. This woman drives like she could be in NASCAR. Turn after turn, I feel like she has her foot planted on the floorboard until she finally pulls up along the street by a small apartment complex. It doesn’t seem to be too dangerous of a neighborhood since there are kids playing basketball in the small park next to the complex, seemingly happy and safe. Just like the bus depot, the streets are lined with flowering trees and dotted with large palm trees Californians sure know how to beautify their state, but it makes me wonder how in the world do they keep them watered with the intense drought they’ve had over the years.
I note that one palm tree, in particular, looks odd. “What’s wrong with that palm tree?” I ask Ricca. “It looks different than the others.”
Ricca laughs hard when she sees what I’m pointing at. “That’s not a palm tree. That’s a cell phone tower that looks like a palm tree.” Looking at it again, I can see the wires hanging out of it.
“Huh, you don’t see that back home.”
Ricca jumps out of her Jeep and motions for me to follow her. We snake through the garden linking the buildings until we pass a doorway with the number three nailed onto it.
“Now, I want to warn you about something before we go in. The previous tenant really liked colorful paint. I’m like ninety-nine percent sure she was a hippie because the place reeked of weed when I moved in. It took me weeks to get the apartment aired out and not smelling like Woodstock.”
The apartment is just as small as I figured it would be for the price with a couch and a single easy chair sit in the living room surrounding a small flat-screen TV. She leads me through to the very small kitchen with just a small countertop, stove, microwave and an apartment-sized refrigerator. It’s much smaller than the kitchen I had in the house in Cleveland, but I doubt I’ll be cooking anything bigger than a microwave meal until I can save up more money. Steaks and crab legs aren’t exactly on my gourmet menu so it will have to be macaroni and cheese cups and ramen.
Next, she leads me to the bedroom, and I finally realize what she meant about the bright colors. A vivid blue that you could probably see from space covers the walls. “Shit, that’s bright! It’s like the face of the sun is shining from the walls of the room. You need sunglasses to walk in here. How you do stand it?” I say while squinting from the brilliant pigment.
“I warned you that the old bat was an extreme hippie. My room was a neon-orange with yellow swirls before I re-painted it hot pink.” Hot pink doesn’t exactly tone down the brightest of a room, but I guess she was using Ricca logic. We both laugh as I make my way into the room. The room is simply furnished with a bed, small dresser, bedside table, and lamp, but even the linens on the bed that seem to be clean. “Well, what do you think? Will this work for you?” Ricca asks. I see hope building in her eyes that I will take it. This is the only decent, affordable place I found online and she seems nice. Hell, I’d have taken a shit hole as long as I didn’t have to deal with a bat-shit-crazy roommate.
“I’ll take it.”
Ricca jumps in the air, screaming like a teenage girl at a pop music concert about to see the boy band she’s crushing on. “I’m so excited! Once you get settled in, we’ll go grab dinner at In N’ Out since it’s the California tradition for newbies. Everyone needs to christen their first day in this beautiful state with a burger from that place since those burgers are so so damn cheap yet oh so good. I’ll take you tomorrow to meet the landlord and get the paperwork signed so we can make it official. My last roommate was paid up until the end of the month so you won’t owe rent until the first of the month. I'm SO SO excited! EEEEK!” she delightfully squeals.
She leaves me to unpack the meager bag I brought with me. I put the few outfits I stuffed into my makeshift luggage into the small dresser and put the picture of my parents next to the bedside lamp. Sitting down on the bed, the mattress creaks from my weight. My eyes turn to the photo, which sends all the emotions and painful memories I’ve tried to stow away on my journey here flooding back to me. I need to stay strong for them and try to make the best of the time I have here since I know that they’d want me to try and be happy. I may have to work my ass off to secure what my parent’s dreamed for me, but I will have it for as long as I can hold it. The past that lies hidden in Cleveland will always linger and threaten to take away my freedom, but I can’t think about that. I survived its horrors and escaped as soon as I could, and no one will take away my choices again because I’d rather be dead than go back to that life. I only hope it doesn’t come down to that.
Today started off just like any normal damn day. Woke up hungover as shit, fucked the club mama who warmed my bed last night until she was sore, and went to Church, but as soon as I walked into our meeting room, I knew today was going to be fucked all to hell.
“Nice of you to join us, Hero,” says the president of our club, Raze. The smirk on his face tells me he knows what I was doing. Most of the guys in this room probably got their dick wet this morning, so the fact he’s calling me out is bullshit. Shrugging my shoulders in return with a shit-eating grin on my face, I can’t help myself from not dishing it back.
“Sorry, Prez. Just had to get my daily dose of vitamin T & A for breakfast. I’m a growing boy, you know,” I say with a laugh while taking my seat next to him. Raze just shakes his head at me while the other men surrounding our table all laugh. Tyson, our club treasurer, nods in agreement and leans close to me.
“Was the pussy worth being late?” he asks in whispered tones. The night’s activities might have been hazy, but the pretty little pussy I pounded into for over an hour this morning satisfied my cock.
“Isn’t good pussy always worth it, Ty?”
“Fuck yes, brother, you never pass up a chance for that grade-A choice pussy you picked up last night. Wish there was more of it around here,” he states with a laugh as Raze clears his throat.
“Now that Hero’s gotten his rocks off and his ass in his seat, we can finally start Church,” says Raze. The meeting moves on as normal as we discuss our upcoming charity runs to raise money for a local kid with cancer. Timmy is on the road to recovery, but his medical bills nearly bankrupted his folks. The Heaven’s Rejects MC may be filled with tattooed, meat-head bikers that would make even a devout nun rip her panties off and offer herself to one of us, but we take care of our friends and neighbors. We take care of those who take care of us, and Timmy’s dad took care of some warrants we needed scrubbed off the books for one of our newer brother’s. Sure, Upland, CA is typically a pretty quiet suburb, but it has its moments like any town. Before the club was established in 1986 by Raze’s dad and our former Vice President, Jagger, thugs hiding from the authorities called Upland home. Those bastards were the first to go as the club cleaned up the town. We have enough shit to deal with our own version of outlaws. At least our guys knew to keep their illegal shit behind closed doors back then.
The Heaven’s Rejects MC is known for our protection services. We make our money with the guns attached to our shoulders instead of the guns at our hips... Our phone rings off the hook with business proposals from concerned rich daddies worried about their perfect little whore daughters going out for a night on the town to the occasional politician needing some muscle for a back alley campaign money deal. You can say we cater to all walks of life as long as the money is good,.. We do the dirty work that no one else will handle We don’t carry the 1%ers patch marking us as an outlaw club, but we don’t exactly follow all the rules of decent civilian society either. You could say we toe the line of being civilized.
Sure, the club dabbled in dealing for a while, but California legalizing weed medically killed our business overnight. You may need to have a medical reason to get it, but every Dick or Jane with a dirty doctor or a pain problem could get it now so it’s not exactly hard to come by anymore. Cocaine and running guns were offered to us after the weed business tanked, but the club decided unless we trafficked it ourselves, we didn’t want to deal with fucking cartel bullshit. The club might have jumped at the chance in the rougher days of the club, but we’re as legit as we can be now. Heaven’s Rejects has seen just about as much blood and chaos as I did serving overseas in the military in its early years, but shit is finally starting to settle down to a low boiling chaos. We work hard to keep our noses clean as possible, but every once in a great while, the law will be breathing down our necks for some fucking stupid thing one of the prospects pulled.
I zone back into the conversation at our Church table when I hear yelling coming from outside.
Ratchet, our Sergeant at Arms, busts through the room doors with a bloody cut in his hands. Raze sees the cut before anyone else and moves across the room in long strides before I even realize what’s going on. Fuck, I shouldn’t have shot tequila last night. My brain is slow on the uptake today, and I need it to function to process what the fuck just happened. Raze rips the leather cut from his hands, flipping it to the front to see the name patch. His eyes harden as the name comes into his view. His head hangs as he throws the cut to the table. “It’s Jagger. Fuck! Where did you find this, Ratchet?”
Ratchet hangs his head. “Prez, the cut isn’t all that I found. You need to come out back to the storage shed.” The entire room empties out the back doorway of the clubhouse to avoid alarming the old ladies and kids in the main room. If this as bad as I think it is, they don’t need to know about this until we get whatever’s in that shed out of here. We all walk across the dirt parking lot of the clubhouse to the small shed where we store spare Harley parts from our repair shop in town. Rounding the corner of the building, I can smell Jagger before I see him. The heat of the day didn’t waste any time cooking his body. When he finally comes into view, he’s been strung up by his arms from the rafters.
His face is nearly unrecognizable from the blood and bruises that mar his flesh. His body is covered in bloody cuts, but it’s his stomach where I notice the calling card left by his murderers. Two T’s are gouged into his stomach just above his navel. The only word I can manage is, “Fuck,” since the gruesome sight of his mangled body is enough to completely kill the buzz from last night’s party. Thugs and rival clubs know not to fuck with our MC’s territory, but apparently there are some days even I am wrong.
Our brotherhood stands in silence for what seems like an eternity as we silently take in the bloody scene. “Prez, we have to do something about this!” Ratchet says with heated words. “They killed Jagger, Raze. We have to hit them back.” Raze turns to Ratchet and charges toward him.
He comes inches from Ratchet’s face before he speaks. “Ratchet, calm the fuck down. We all lost a brother today. Twisted Tribe will be dealt with in time. You know as well as the rest of us that they expect us to avenge Jagger’s murder immediately. I know how you feel, Ratchet, because every man standing around you feels the same damn way. The Tribe fuckers will pay with their life for spilling the blood of one of our own but today, we need to mourn his loss. Darcy and the kids aren’t going to handle the news well. We need to make sure they are taken care of, and then the fuckers who did this will go down in a blaze of gunfire and flames. “
I move beside Raze to show the men I stand with his decision. “Raze is right. Today, we mourn, but tomorrow, we will burn the Twisted Tribe to the fucking ground.” Looking at the men standing around me, I can see the rage and sorrow within their eyes= “Ratchet, grab Slider and get Jagger down from there. Clean him up the best you can and call Morton’s Mortuary; they owe us a favor. Have him prepare Jagger’s body so Darcy and the kids can see him like he was before these bastards destroyed him.” Ratchet nods and stalks back to the clubhouse to retrieve our newest prospect. If taking down Jagger’s body doesn’t break him into the potential club life, I don’t know what will. Slider’s a good kid, but he needs to build up more of a backbone if he even thinks he’ll be patched in as one of us.
Slider and Ratchet return to the shed as the rest of us move back into our meeting room, which is now blanketed in sobered silence. Raze cuts through the silence long enough to make a quick vote to offer to pay for Jagger’s funeral expenses as well as set up a fund for his young boys. The vote passes unanimously as expected and we file out of Church in the the main room, which is littered with the old ladies and club mamas. Maj, Raze’s old lady, is behind the bar inventorying the damage we did at the party last night when her eyes lock onto Raze. Even I can tell that she knows that something is wrong... She drops the pad of paper she was carrying and immediately leaves from behind the bar. Maj wraps her arms around Raze as the the King and Queen of Heaven’s Rejects head back to their suite in the clubhouse. Raze needs her and Maj will make sure that Darcy and the boys will get what they need.
Just like I will once I find who I am looking for. My coping methods may not be what you would consider to be traditional, but it fucking works for me. I need to cut the edge off of the news of the shit storm our rival club, Twisted Tribe, sent our way. They dumped his bloody body right on our doorstep unnoticed and that’s the kind of of shit that shouldn’t happen if we were the kind of club we are known to be. I thank fuck that it wasn’t a family party night... The old ladies and kids didn’t need to see that kind of shit, it would scar the kids for life. Being VP of this club is far from an easy job, but it does have its perks. There are days it’s so good to fucking be me. Is today one of them? Fuck no, but all I need in this life is the club, my brothers, and the hot piece of club mama ass that’s about to suck my cock.
A pair of warm lips will help free my mind of what I just saw. I see Ruby, one of the club mamas lounging on the couch with a couple of the other girls. Grabbing her by the wrist, I drag her back to my room in the clubhouse. Shoving her to her knees as soon as the door closes, I unzip my jeans and force my cock into her pretty painted mouth. My mind needs a distraction and Ruby is just what the doctor ordered with her perfect lips and beautiful bouncing tits. Grabbing onto the back of her head to increase the force of my thrusts, Ruby moans at my touch as the top of her tits brush against my balls. Her tongue swirls around the tip of my cock as I pound into her waiting mouth.
As I continue to thrust, her eyes lock onto mine. I don’t know why that shit turns me on, but a woman watching me while I fuck her mouth is just about one of the hottest things on the planet to me. Her green eyes continue to watch me as I increase my speed. She moves one of her hands from my hip and grasps my balls. Rolling them between her fingers, she starts the firing sequence as she lightly grazes her teeth against the head of my dick, sending cum shooting down her throat. A smile grows across her face when I pull my softening cock from her mouth with my cum sticking to her swollen lips.
I’d planned on coming on those tits of hers, but I was gone as soon as she used her teeth on me. Ruby knows what I like; she’s the only club mama who has warms my bed regularly, and it will likely stay that way. She knows and understands that I have no intention of settling down with a nagging old lady and brat kids, so I live by the philosophy of love ’em once, and leave ’em forever. Ruby isn’t looking to settle down, either, so she’s the only one I’ve allowed to stick around after the first fuck. Well, that reason and that heavenly mouth of hers. I’m not sure where she learned how to suck a cock, but I want to shake the hand of the person who taught her.
I shove my dick back into my pants as Ruby gets off of her knees and straightens her short skirt back into its normal position. Sliding past me, she walks into my bathroom and turns on the faucet. . While she cleans up, I walk over to my bed and plop down when Ruby walks back into the room... Ruby may be a club mama to everyone else, but to me she’s more like a friend with benefits. I can fuck her anytime I want, but she knows me better than anyone else. “Who was it out in the shed?” she asks, keeping her eyes on the ground. Her question shocks me.
“How in the fuck did you know someone was out in the shed?”
“I could tell from the way Slider looked at Ratchet when he came to get him that something was wrong. Plus, I was watching out the back window after they left the clubhouse again.”
Her admission rattles me knowing that she’s openly admitting to defying the rules for her position in the club. Club mamas are nothing but “at-will” pussy for the men and are supposed to stay out of club business just like the old ladies. She can’t even look at me when she’s telling me about sticking her damn nose where it doesn’t belong so she knows she’s in trouble.
“Ruby, you know you need to stay out of club business. Had you said that to any other patched member, your ass would have been out on the street or dead. These guys like their wives submissive and their whores quiet. You know I’m not entirely like that, but I won’t fucking break club rules to protect you just because we’re good in bed together.”
She still refuses to look at me, which shows me that she has to realize she fucked up admitting that kind of shit to me. Ruby knows I won’t punish her, but she needs to understand how serious I really am. I pull her chin back up to my eyes and make her look at me. “Ruby, I want to take care of you the best I can, but you can’t keep digging into the club’s business. One of these days the wrong brother is going to catch you, and I won’t be able to save your ass. “She nods her head in agreement heading to the door.
Before she walks out, I know I need to tell her about Jagger. I just don’t know how to tell her. She seemed to like him more than most of the other brothers. Just before she reaches the door, I stand up and push my hand against the wood to stop her from opening the door.
“Ruby, it was Jagger out in the shed. Raze is getting him cleaned up before he tells Darcy. Do not say a word until Raze announces it to the club.” She turns to me and nods in agreement before shoving my hand out of the way and walking out of my bedroom door.
