Malice's Possession Part 1

MALICE'S POSSESSION.

The Brothers of Menace MC.

Jenika Snow.

DEDICATION.

To my family for their continued support, to the readers that have stuck through this journey with me from the very beginning, and to the new ones that have joined on the way. Thank you Evernight for giving my stories a home. Without all of you I wouldn't be able to share my characters with you.

Chapter One.

Trevor "Malice" Mason's d.i.c.k wasn't even hard despite the t.i.ts and a.s.s being flaunted around. Although usually his s.e.xual appet.i.te could rival that of a teenager who just found out that sticking his d.i.c.k in p.u.s.s.y felt good, for a while now he hadn't been feeling the need to let loose. It wasn't because the mother of his son, Molly, was now the old lady of Stinger, a member of the Grizzly MC. He was genuinely happy for them and knew that Stinger treated her and his son well. It would have been a whole other situation if Malice's instincts had told him that the Grizzly wasn't genuine in how he felt toward Molly. h.e.l.l, they had even gotten into it because Malice had thought he was still in love with Molly. But that was in the past. Malice hadn't still been in love with her, but just kept to the idea that she was still his. He took a swig of his beer and balanced the bottle on his knee once he was finished.

Someone clapped him on the shoulder, and he looked to the side to see Tuck pulling up a chair and sitting beside him. "You ready for the run tomorrow?"

Malice grunted and nodded. "Yeah. Going to be heading out at nine and ride straight through and we should get into Utah about four in the morning."

"Told Lucien I was able to make it with you the three of you, but he needs me here for that gun trade."

Malice waved off Tuck's response. "It's all good, man. I'd rather have you here to make sure things are good with Dakota." He glanced at Tuck again and saw the older man nod. Tuck wasn't much older than Malice's forty-two years, but the other biker had a lot of life experiences placed on his shoulders, and that showed on his face. The knife scar right over his jugular still showed a bright white even though it had been ten years since he had gotten the d.a.m.n thing. Tuck had several days' growth on his face, and even though his hair was a light shade there were strands of grey throughout it. h.e.l.l, they all had grey, had rough f.u.c.king lives, but it was the ones they had chosen, and Malice sure as s.h.i.t wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

"Dakota and Molly will be looked after, but you know they got Stinger that watches over them like some kind of protective b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Malice grunted in acknowledgment. "Yeah, but I like my own crew there, too." Tuck nodded and shifted down in his seat. They watched the two women dance and grind on each other, and after a while Tuck spoke again.

"You going mountain man now?" There was a teasing note in Tuck's voice.

Malice chuckled and scratched at his cheeks. He hadn't shaved in at least a week, and the once stubble was now thicker. He certainly wasn't all grizzly bear with a full on beard, but at this rate, especially considering his just not giving a s.h.i.t att.i.tude, he was headed there in no time at all. "Nah, just not caring about my appearance."

"Well, ain't like you can't get enough p.u.s.s.y around here, even if you look like you been living under a rock."

Malice didn't respond, but even if he'd had something to say one of the club girls came over and straddled Tuck's lap. Her t.i.ts were big and fake, and unrestrained by a top. They shook as she moved the top half of her body in front of Tuck's face.

Since several of them were going on a run tomorrow, tonight was about the alcohol, doing some c.o.ke and weed, and getting their d.i.c.ks wet. Malice had never been one to like illicit drugs. Smoking some joints was one thing, but doing lines of blow had never been for him, especially when he had his kid to take care of. He brought his beer bottle to his mouth and took a long swallow. He was currently sporting wood because a fine piece of a.s.s was currently rubbing her t.i.ts and G-string covered p.u.s.s.y all over another club woman. They were in the center of the room, their hands all over each other, their tongue down the other's mouths, and their t.i.ts pressed so tightly together there had to be indents from their nipples.

"Man, I am going to take that redhead and f.u.c.k her so hard she won't be able to walk straight tomorrow."

Malice leaned further back in the leather chair his a.s.s was in and glanced over at The Brothers' VP. Kink looked f.u.c.ked up already, but kept calling out for the prospect manning the bar to bring over more shots.

"Malice, toss one back with me, brother." Kink grabbed the two shots of whiskey from the prospect and handed one to Malice. "To having a good f.u.c.king time, to the health of your kid, and to all we care about." Kink's words were slightly slurred, but then again all of the members of the MC were f.u.c.ked up beyond recognition.

They clinked their gla.s.ses together and tossed the rough liquor back. When more women came forward and started rubbing their s.h.i.t all over members, jerking the guys off and getting them ready to f.u.c.k this was his cue to get the f.u.c.k out of here. He clapped Tuck on the shoulder and got out of the couch. Kink was now getting his own private lap dance, but it was more of a "cop a feel" with his fingers up her t.w.a.t.

Malice was too drunk to drive to his place, so he made his way toward the back of the clubhouse and found a room that wasn't otherwise occupied with people f.u.c.king. Shutting the door behind him, he took his cut and shirt off. He sat on the edge of the bed and took his boots off, but didn't bother taking his jeans off. The light was still off, and he lay back on the bed, put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. The shadows from outside moved across it, but for as exhausted and drunk as he was he couldn't fall asleep. The run tomorrow would take him, Kink, and Ruin to Utah to look over some girls that were with another Brothers charter. Normally they didn't swap females around like this, but the Fairview charter was getting heat from the local PD and many of the churches around the small town that were trying to drive them out. A Brothers of Menace club didn't let anyone screw with them, but they also tried to keep the peace, and distancing themselves from the moral police that had swarmed in when the local police had raided their clubhouse and found out they were selling p.u.s.s.y, hadn't gone well for them. So, The River Run charter was taken some of the girls for the time being, and helping out their fellow brothers until s.h.i.t died down.

Since The Brothers had gotten involved in selling p.u.s.s.y full-time, and staying out of drugs, things were going well. Although they didn't make nearly as much as they had dealing c.o.ke, having that kind of heat on the club was bound to get them in trouble. Selling women wasn't legal either, but the authorities were more interested-at this point in time at least-in bigger s.h.i.t like guns and drugs. They may not deal guns, but that didn't mean they still didn't need weapons to protect the club and the girls that worked for them. It was necessary to have them, and the violence that was a.s.sociated with their MC, and any of them that they were a.s.sociated with for that matter, meant they had to do some pretty deplorable s.h.i.t at times. But Malice couldn't deny that for as bad a rap as The Brothers got in River Run, they did good s.h.i.t, too. Taking on those beaten and battered prost.i.tutes all those months back and building them a safe haven to recover in was one of the more goodhearted things they had done. They might not do good s.h.i.t like that all the time, but they weren't always b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.

The sound of a Harley pulling into the lot had the glare from the lone headlight slashing across the ceiling. He might not have to leave until tomorrow night to pick up the females, but it was already going on three in the morning. Selling flesh was probably pretty f.u.c.king low to some people, but what those people didn't understand was that if the women decided to work for them they got protection, safety, and were well cared for. They were not just p.u.s.s.y for sale to the Brothers, but women that had decided on this path for themselves, and had gone into business with the MC. Was prost.i.tution decent work? Maybe money-wise, but it certainly wasn't honorable. He didn't judge what someone else chose to do, though, especially when his own life was filled with plenty of dishonorable things. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the wave of alcohol that thrummed through his veins take him under so he didn't have to think about any of the s.h.i.t around him.

He scrubbed his hand over his face and breathed out.

Adrianna looked over at Phillip as he cut another line of blow on the small mirror in front of him. She was sitting on the floor in the corner, pressed as hard against the wall as she could stand because even thinking of being close to him had bile rising in her throat. Dried blood covered her nose and the side of her mouth from when Phillip had backhanded her because she hadn't brought him his dinner fast enough. She watched as he leaned forward, closed one nostril with his finger, and placed the end of a rolled up dollar bill in the other nostril. He inhaled deeply, and promptly leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. A few of his junkie friends were already pa.s.sed out, one on the floor and the other on the chair by the couch. One still had the d.a.m.n tourniquet wrapped around his bicep from when he had shot up heroin earlier, and the most likely filthy needle hanging from the crook of his arm.

For several months she had subjected herself to this life, but it hadn't always been this nightmare that she feared she'd never wake up from. The first month with Phillip had been great. He had been one of those guys that could captivate a person with a look alone. That was exactly what he had done with her. He had pulled her in, made her trust him, care for him, and then he had slowly started to show himself in small increments. He was a master manipulator, that was so vividly clear, and she hated herself that she had allowed herself to once again be taken advantage of.

The nice dinners and the constant compliments had all just been a disguise to who is truly was. But Adrianna couldn't blame anyone but herself. She had allowed herself to stay in this situation, stupidly thinking that the first time he had put his hands on her was because he had been too drunk to know what he had been doing. And then when he started doing the drugs right in front of her she'd told herself that he had just been stressed out because of losing his job. Threatening to leave had her hoping he might change what he was doing, because she had cared about him, or at least she thought she had. But what she should have done was just leave, not threaten to do it, because all that had gotten her in the end was a lot of pain, some bruises, and broken ribs.

After that things had spiraled downhill faster than she had even been able to comprehend. She could blame a lot of things for why she subjected herself to this: a broken home as a child, and her absentee mother more concerned with the many men she brought home than her or her younger brother. Adrianna could even say that all of that and then losing her brother at the tender age of sixteen to drugs had made her blind to the life she had allowed herself to live. But the truth was she knew what was happening, and even though Phillip had this mean streak when he was high, there were also times he made her feel wanted. At least there had been times. Now things were just bad, and she knew that if she didn't leave she would end up another statistic.

"Adrianna, come here." Phillips voice was soft and slurred. He turned his head and looked at her through the slits of his eyes. He was higher than the kite and drunk to boot. "I said come here." He said it a bit more firmly.

She wasn't foolish enough to think just because he seemed lax at the moment because of the drugs that he wouldn't shift into Mr. Hyde. Adrianna picked herself off the floor and moved toward him. She was going to leave, had been planning how to do it without Phillip stopping her, and had been saving what little money she had earned before Phillip had slowly isolated her. It certainly wasn't enough to get her far enough away from him as she would have liked, but she wanted out of this s.h.i.tty town. She could move to Salt Lake. The bigger city would be a welcome change from the backwards and s.h.i.tty town she had been living in her whole life. If she didn't get out of her now she wouldn't live to her twenty-third birthday. When she was a few feet from him she stopped.

He stared at her for a few seconds, and then this slow grin spread across his face. Without saying anything he reached down and undid the b.u.t.ton of his jeans and slid the zipper down. For how high and drunk he was she was surprised he could even get it up, but he was hard, and his lecherous grin spread even further until he looked like an even grislier version of The Joker. "Suck it."

She glanced at the two pieces of waste of s.p.a.ce no more than a few feet from them, and then she looked back at Phillip. Shaking her head and taking a step back, she wasn't going to be subjected to his sick and depraved desires again. His friends roused slightly, but with a few grunts they fell back asleep.

"No, Phillip. I'm done with this." Her face was sore from the slap he had given her, and the bruises on her belly screamed in discomfort when she crossed her arms, shielding herself. "I think it's time for me to leave." She took a step back when his smile faded and he pushed himself up on the couch.

"Time for you to leave?" He said it almost curiously, but she wasn't a fool to think that he wasn't simmering with rage. "You've been with me this long, love all the things I do to you." He smiled again, but this time it was dark and evil.

A shiver worked its way up her spine. She didn't respond, just shook her head again and took another step back.

Phillip stood, put his p.e.n.i.s back in his pants, and exhaled. "I was feeling good, Adrianna, really d.a.m.n good, and I wanted your mouth on me because I thought it would top this wonderful night off." He said it sickly sweet, and rolled his head around on his neck. The sound of his neck cracking, and then of him advancing on her had adrenaline pumping through her veins and the fight or flight instinct kicking in. "You're mine, Adrianna." He stopped and c.o.c.ked his head to the side. "Unless," he shook his head and chuckled, but it had this dark quality to it. "You're not f.u.c.king around on me behind my back, are you?"

She didn't even respond to that ludicrous question. Not only did he make sure she was always within sight of him, if he had to leave her she was to stay with his friends, guarded like she was this piece of property. "I'm no one's, Phillip."

He chuckled again. "But you are." He took another step toward her. "Your body, that laughable amount of money you think you have saved up."

Her heart nearly stopped at his words. "Why, Phillip?"

He looked genuinely curious. "Why what?"

"Why are you doing this, keeping me here like this?" He brought women home all the time, even forced her to watch as he f.u.c.ked them. Because he seemed to like the junkie girls he brought home more than he did her in the s.e.xual department, she was at least thankful for that. But then there were times like these, where he was wasted out of his mind, and she was the only one around. "You have plenty of others to please you." Her throat was dry, and her heart was beating fast and hard. She was ready to run, and she was ready to fight for her life. For far too long she had subjected herself to this back alley lifestyle, but she wouldn't be defined by it a minute longer.

"But I like having you here, Adrianna. I like knowing that I can do whatever I want with you, whenever I want." He took another step toward her and she took one back. "I like the knowledge that you came from a s.h.i.tty life, and I was able to mold you to be my perfect f.u.c.king c.u.n.t. You aren't like the junkie s.l.u.ts that I stick my d.i.c.k in. You're my wh.o.r.e, and I intend to keep you that way." He was on her before she could even comprehend what was happening. With his hand around her throat, and his strength climbing as the adrenaline and drugs pumped through his veins fast and hard, Adrianna knew that if she didn't do something drastic this would escalate with her beaten to h.e.l.l or worse. He lifted her easily off the ground so only the tops of her toes touched the floor.

Opening her mouth, trying to get something out, was an act that she couldn't do. She struggled, clawed at his hand, kicked out and connected with his shin, but still Phillip only seemed to tighten his hold on her harder. Who knew what other drugs he had taken before the alcohol and c.o.ke?

"I like knowing that you're mine. All mine. If I want to slap you around, so be it." He took a step forward, and she found herself pressed against the wall. "If I want you to watch while I f.u.c.k another wh.o.r.e, I like that option, too." He leaned in and bared his teeth. "You have no one, Adrianna. Before I came along you were barely sc.r.a.ping by. No family, no friends, you're a sad excuse for a human. You're lucky I even want to keep your fat a.s.s around." He let go of her and took a step back. "I mean look at you. You're fat as f.u.c.k, and make me sick."

She fell to the floor, gasping for air and blinking back the stars and darkness that had threatened to take her under just seconds before. Lifting her gaze from the ground she looked over at Phillip. He leaned over and stared cutting another line of c.o.ke. Adrianna stood, braced her hand on the wall, and then slowly turned her gaze to the razor blade that was sitting on the end table. There was always a razor blade around when junkies lived in the house.

"You'll do best to keep your mouth shut and do what I say." He leaned over, and she heard him inhale the white line. But he wasn't done yet and started cutting another one. "If I want you to wash my f.u.c.king laundry and cook my meals, you'll be smart to jump right to it." He leaned over at snorted the next line. She moved over to the end table, her bare feet making no sound on the stained and aged hardwood floor. Reaching out, placing her thumb and forefinger on the edge of the blade, she quietly slid it off the table. Her pulse filled her ears, and she swore she could hear the blood rushing through her veins. Her vision narrowed, and all she could see was Phillip in front of her. What was she actually planning on doing? Killing him? Watching him bleed out? G.o.d, this wasn't like her. Before she could place the blade back on the table he turned, and his gaze zeroed in on the razor she held.

"You little f.u.c.king c.u.n.t." He charged forward and brought his fist across the side of her head.

Stumbling back, Adrianna had to brace her hand on the wall again. Blood filled her mouth, and she started choking on it as it slid down the back of her throat.

"What are you going to do, f.u.c.king slice my neck?" He charged forward, but something inside of her snapped. She saw red, tightened her hold on the blade, and waited until he was close enough.

"You piece of s.h.i.t a.s.shole." The words tumbled out of her mouth at the same time she blindly swung her arm out. Right now she was acting on instinct, not able to focus on anything except surviving. The next sequence of events happened in a blur. She saw the blade go into his flesh and felt his warm blood gush out of him. He swung out at her again, but she ducked and moved. He clutched at his throat, stumbled into the wall, and left a trail of blood in his wake. He started gurgling out his buddies' names, but they didn't move. Adrianna didn't waste any more time, didn't run to the back room to grab her meager belongings. She ran out the front door just as a flash of lightning raced through the sky, and seconds later a crack of thunder echoed around her. She ran fast and hard, and when the rain started down pouring and her feet ached from the pebbles being embedded in them, she kept pushing forward. It felt like her heart would explode from her chest, and all she kept thinking about was if she had killed him. It was the middle of the night, but she'd go to the bank in the morning, withdraw the little bit of money she had, and find out what her next course of action would be. But right now all she wanted to do was put Phillip, and the prison she had allowed herself to be trapped in for too long, as far behind her as her legs could carry her.

Chapter Two.

Malice, Rock, and Ruin all pulled into the rest stop right outside of Fairview town limits. But the sky had opened up, and a horrendous downpour had come down, forcing them to pull off until it ended. Ruin had driven the van and followed behind him and Rock on their bikes. Rock and Ruin were sitting in the truck, and the music they had blasting way too f.u.c.king loudly for this hour could be heard even through the closed windows. Malice took out a joint from inside his cut, grabbed a lighter from his back pocket, and lit the end. Inhaling deeply and keeping the smoke in his lungs, he glanced around the deserted strip of road in front of him. He could see the small town of Fairview where The Brothers of Menace Utah charter was located, and saw the few streetlights from the distance. Exhaling the smoke, Malice brought the end of the joint to his mouth again and took another drag. The ride had been long, the road smooth and easy, but he needed this little bit of chemical relaxation.

His bike was parked beside a post that supported the awnings, and he leaned back against it. The wind had the rain moving toward the right, and then a gust pushed it to the left. Right when he was about to take another drag from the joint he saw a flash of white about ten feet away. He stood and took a step away from his bike. Narrowing his eyes and trying to see what in the h.e.l.l he was looking at, he realized it was a girl walking out in the middle of this s.h.i.t. He glanced at the van, saw Rock look up at him at the same time, and he pointed over at the girl. Rock elbowed Ruin, and then all three of them were staring at her. She came closer, but it was clear she was out of it. She had to be drunk or high, because who in their right mind walked in this kind of weather in what she was wearing? He stubbed out the joint and watched her more closely. Normally he would have not given two s.h.i.ts about seeing some chick walking in the pouring rain with no shoes on, a tank top, and a pair of cutoff shorts. But for some reason he couldn't stop looking at her, and this strange sensation traveled through him. It was this protective feeling, one that was fierce and strong, and something far different from how he had ever felt, even with Molly. But this was a ludicrous feeling, and one he wasn't about to f.u.c.king delve into. He should turn away, walk back over to his bike and get on, storm be f.u.c.ked, but he didn't move.

She moved closer, as if she was coming right at him. The sound of the van doors opening and closing told him Ruin and Rock had gotten out. The girl didn't look up, but seemed dazed. Her dark hair was plastered to her head, and the long strands stuck to her shoulders. He could see her lips moving now that she was closer, but as if she sensed him watching her, she stopped and looked up at him. For a second all they did was stare at one another, and even from several feet away he could see her eyes were this light blue. He raked his gaze down her body. She shivered, and the rain poured down her body, soaking the white shirt so that it was transparent and her nipples were visible. But what had him curling his fingers into his palms and had rage burning brightly inside of him, was the fact the side of her face had a nasty bruise on the side. Her bottom lip was split, and he had no doubt her face probably had been covered in blood, but the rain had since washed it away.

She looked over at Ruin and Rock who stood right beside him now. "I need help." Her voice was low, but he heard her over the turbulent weather. She took a step forward, stumbled, and he knew she was going down. He moved quickly toward her and caught her before she hit the ground. Water dripped into his face, but he was riveted to the sight of her slate blue colored eyes and couldn't concentrate on anything but her. But he could tell she was pa.s.sed out. He was up and off the ground with her in his arms and striding toward the van.

"Malice, man, what the f.u.c.k are you doing?" Ruin asked.

Malice didn't answer, just carried her to the back. Before he could open the door Rock was there doing it for him. He shifted so he had one knee on the floor of the van, and then he was setting her down on the backseat and pushing the wet strands of her dark hair away from her face.

"d.a.m.n, someone beat the s.h.i.t out of her," Ruin said from behind him, and Malice snapped his head to the side and glared at him over his shoulder.

"Shut the f.u.c.k up, Ruin."

The other biker held up his hands. "What in the h.e.l.l are you going to do with her?"

Malice moved back so he wasn't in the van any longer and stared at her. But after only a second he grabbed a blanket that was in the very back of the vehicle and draped it over her. "We'll take her to the clubhouse."

"I know Marx has a guy that comes in and helps patch up the members. The guy has some kind of medical background."

"Yeah, she definitely needs to be seen, but you think it's good bringing some random woman back to a clubhouse that we aren't even patched in with? I mean they need a heads-up at the very least." Ruin stepped up closer and leaned in so he could get a better look at her. "Especially with all the s.h.i.t going down with the police and the church people." Ruin turned and looked at Malice. "We know nothing about this chick."

Malice made a low sound in his throat. "I don't f.u.c.king care. I'm not about to leave her when she clearly needs to be looked at with all these f.u.c.king wounds, and because she asked for help." He shut the door and turned toward them. "I'll call Marx and let him know the change of plans. Maybe he knows who she is and what might have happened." He tilted his chin toward Rock. "Can you call Lucien and let him what the f.u.c.k is going on? I don't want him finding out second hand from Marx, or any of the other members of the Fairview charter."

Rock nodded and reached inside of his cut for his cell. The rain had stopped, but Malice wasn't going to wait until it stopped completely before he headed to the clubhouse. He called Marx, let the biker know what was happening and that they were on their way toward them, and hung up. Rock was already off the phone and striding back toward him.

"Lucien's been updated, and he said if we need him or any more members they can head up."

Malice shook his head. "Let's get her situated first, find out what exactly is going on, and if we even want to get involved." Even after Malice said that he knew that there was no way he wasn't going to get involved.

"Come on." Without waiting for them to respond Malice was striding toward his bike and then straddling it. Rock moved beside him and got on his bike, and then Ruin climbed in the van and started it. Malice started his engine, and then Rock was doing the same. They headed out of the rest stop and toward town, and all he could think about was that young girl no more than her early twenties staring up at him with her blue eyes. She had seemed sad and lost, and pleaded with only the softness of her eyes that she needed his help. How in the f.u.c.k could Malice turn his back on that? He might be one f.u.c.ked up a.s.shole on the best of days, and had hurt plenty of bad men in his life, but he wasn't a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, especially not to a woman that was hurt and needed him.

They drove though the town, which was still fast asleep, and Malice kept his eyes on the road, but was aware of his surroundings. He didn't see anyone else walking around, and didn't pa.s.s any vehicles. Whoever had hurt her wasn't looking for her, at least not right now, or they were doing it on the down low. The pa.s.sed the small motel that was the center of Fairview and continued to the outskirts of town. Once they took a left and started making their way through the thick forest that surrounded the small Utah community, Malice realized anyone that wanted to give this clubhouse s.h.i.t would really have to go out of their d.a.m.n way to do it. But even though he could see the reason why the church going folk might be a little p.i.s.sed at the fact there was a hardcore MC selling females for a little side action, this was their business. They weren't hurting anyone, the women were consenting, and everyone got paid. It was the way s.h.i.t worked, and if they couldn't handle it they could shove their issues up their a.s.s.

The Fairview charter's clubhouse gate came into view after about a quarter mile of driving on the long stretch of country road. They pulled to a stop, and once the prospects opened the gate they drove up the driveway that led to the front of the clubhouse. Floodlights were stationed around the perimeter of the property, making every possible point of entry visible. A ma.s.sive garage had been erected off to the side, and cla.s.sic rock blasted from the open bay doors. At least twenty guys were outside, either working on bikes, smoking joints, or just bulls.h.i.tting. But they all seemed to stop what they were doing and watch them approach Malice pulled his bike to a stop, Rock came up beside up him, and then Ruin cut the van engine. Malice removed his helmet and dismounted, and Rock did the same. Before he could make his way toward the girl in the back of the van he saw Marx striding out of the clubhouse, He had this hard look on his face, and his gaze was trained on the van. Malice strode forward and stopped when he was a couple inches from him.

"Hey, brother." They did the half-hug thing, clapped each other on the back, and then both turned toward the van. Ruin had already opened it, but before the other man could reach in and get her, which was clear he was about to do, Malice was moving forward. "I got her, Ruin." He didn't miss the confused look on the other biker's face, but right now he didn't want to even try to explain what in the h.e.l.l was going on with him and this woman.

"Come on, let's get her inside," Marx said, and just like that everyone else went back to what they were doing.

Malice followed Marx into the clubhouse, past all the club p.u.s.s.y that was draped over other members, and continued to the back of the building. Marx pushed open one of the doors and gestured for Malice to enter. Once he had her on the bed he forced himself to take a step back. Everyone was silent for a few seconds, and he knew he wasn't the only one that had his gaze locked right on the frail woman on the bed. He ran a hand over his eyes, feeling really d.a.m.n tired all of a sudden. He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his pants and raked his gaze over her body. She was pretty much covered with the blanket, but her bare feet poked out from the end of the material. The soles were sc.r.a.ped, and there was dried blood now covering them since the rain wasn't washing it away. He looked back at her face, and all that anger rose up once more like a violent wave.

"You know who she is?" Rock was the one to ask Marx Malice looked over at him and saw the other man shake his head.

"No, but that doesn't mean anything. She could be a wanderer from one of the towns over, or live in the debilitated part of Fairview. Believe it or not, even these country towns have s.h.i.tty areas."

No, Malice knew about that. h.e.l.l, River Run had beautiful parts, but then there were businesses less favorable in the downtown area. "Lucien knows what's going on, but he's holding back until we give him word that we need back-up." It wasn't that the three of them needed the support of their charter, because they were with Marx's crew, and had been close with this charter for a decade. It was more of sticking with the brotherhood and just being there. Also, if things did go bad, meaning Malice found out who had done this to her and dished out the retaliation, his crew would be there for him. They'd be the ones handing him a cloth to wipe off his b.l.o.o.d.y knuckles.

"What the f.u.c.k are we supposed to do with a woman that is beat up to s.h.i.t?" Marx ground out and moved over to the bed. He stood over her, but didn't say anything for several seconds. "We already got the f.u.c.kin' church people down our backs with the p.u.s.s.y for sale, picketing right in front of our clubhouse, and the cops trying to bust us for bulls.h.i.t reasons. I certainly don't need you bring this s.h.i.t to our door."

Malice was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and one foot braced on the wood behind him. "Listen, there wasn't any way I was going to leave her out there. She's obviously running from someone, most likely an ex-boyfriend or husband given what her face looks like. I can be a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but in these kinds of matters I am not going to look the other way."

Marx exhaled loudly and ran his hand over his long, thick white beard. "No, I'm not saying you should have left her, but s.h.i.t." He then proceeded to run both hands over his long hair. "She's young, really f.u.c.king young.

"She could be my kid's age."

They all turned and looked at Beady, who was sitting in one of the chairs with a joint between his lips. "Some motherf.u.c.ker beat the living h.e.l.l out of her." Beady looked over at Malice. "She say anything to you before she hit the floor?"

Malice nodded and looked back over at her. "She just asked for my help."

"Well, whatever b.a.s.t.a.r.d did this to her needs to get a lesson on how to treat women." Beady stood and walked over to her. The other biker might be one of the meanest a.s.sholes around, but he also had a daughter this girl's age, and that had to hit a little too close to home. He reached out and brushed a piece of her still damp hair away from her face. "She's a pretty little thing. d.a.m.n shame someone thought it right to do this to her."

Malice didn't miss the way Beady clenched his hand at his side. h.e.l.l, it was the same thing Malice was doing-had been doing since he had seen her. He couldn't explain what it was about her that called to the protective male part of him, but seeing her hurt, knowing someone had lifted their hand and beaten her had this homicidal rage filling him. That anger would soon explode and come from him like a murderous demon intent on blood. He couldn't help how he felt, and knew that even trying to figure what the f.u.c.k was going on with him was fruitless. He'd get answers from her when she was awake, and then he would have to go out and do some hunting. Vengeance was what he was good at, and the retaliation he was going to deliver to who had harmed her would be sweet and dark pleasure.

Chapter Three.