Havoc: A Silent Sons MC Novel Book Two Read online

  She made friends with everyone she met. During the harvest season, every worker we had was someone she’d found who was down on their luck. Mama had a knack for making people want to do their best for her. She always saw the best in people, and they never wanted to let her down. We had a few workers that came back every year because they knew there would be a job for them here. I don’t know what will happen when they come this season and find the fields as they are now. People depended on my parents.

  My heart lurches, ready to jump out of my chest and run back into that grave with them, as I allow myself to remember mi papa. Growing up, I was a daddy's girl to the fullest. Mi mama used to hate how much of a tomboy I was, but I loved getting dirty with Papa in the fields. He always said I had the touch. That anything I planted grew better than the rest. Nothing made me prouder than when he’d tell me that.

  I have his chestnut brown hair and full lips. Mama said I was lucky that I got his lips, instead of hers. When I was young, I hated them though. I always got teased for them as a kid. Then I got older and grew into my looks.

  I never cared much for the boys around here, much to James’ dismay. We’ve been friends forever, ever since we were small. Our parents were friends, so we were playmates and friends, but he’s never been more than that to me. We did try the couple thing once, but it didn’t really work out. It took a very long time for our friendship to come back after that.

  I haven’t even told him I'm in town, and I probably won’t. He knows that I was planning to come at some point based on our conversation when I called and asked him about my parents, but I’m not the girl he knew anymore. I’m not sure I want him to know the girl I am now. I have no idea what his parents think about all of this, and I’d rather not find out.

  Making my way to the porch, I sit down on the familiar steps and wait for Havoc and the others to finish. The rough wood beneath my fingers where they curl around the edge of the steps reminds me of all the times I spent with my parents on this porch. All the barbecues we had here. The parties. My Quinceanera. This place held so many of my moments in life, and now it's all gone.

  The tears haven’t let up since I first got to my family’s plot, hell since I stepped foot inside the charred remains of my life, and now I'm thoroughly exhausted. Who knew crying was so much work? Redneck and Casanova are arguing about something. As the banter gets closer, I know the grave’s been filled. Grabbing the hem of my shirt, I wipe the remaining tears and grime from my face. On shaky legs, I stand and then walk to meet Havoc at his bike.

  He’s walking toward me. “Thanks guys. I’ll see you soon,” he tosses to the others over his shoulder before coming over to me.

  “You ready to go?” he asks in a quiet voice.

  I nod in response, unable to get words beyond the lump in my throat. He settles onto his bike and waits for me to cast one last look at the place where I grew up. My eyes look beyond the ash and burnt skeleton standing before me. My eyes see the happy home that lives only in my heart and memories now. With a deep breath and a silent goodbye, I close the door on that piece of my life. Swinging my leg over the seat, I climb onto the back of his bike. I have no clue where we’re staying tonight, but all I want to do is shower and crawl into bed.

  “Alright, let's get some food, and then we’ll get some rooms for the night,” he says before cranking his bike to life.

  Chapter 9

  Havoc

  “You want to walk over to Denny’s with me and get some food?” I ask Angel, pointing to the restaurant next to the Super Eight where we just got rooms.

  “No, I just want to take a shower and lie down,” she whispers, shaking her head.

  “Alright, but you gotta eat, Angel. I’ll bring something back for you. Chicken strips, or a burger?” I ask with a sigh. She shakes her head at me while reaching for the key to her room that I’m still holding. Pulling it out of reach, “No way. You get the key when you tell me what you want to eat,” I tell her. I can be just as stubborn as she is.

  “Fine,” she huffs out, “buffalo chicken strips and a Coke. But I make no promises that I’ll eat it before falling asleep,” she concedes, and I hand her the key to her room.

  In minutes, I’m opening the door, and the wonderful greasy smell of burgers and fries reminds me that’s it’s been awhile since we last ate. When a waitress greets me, I quickly decide to get everything to go instead of eating my meal first in hopes of catching Angel before she falls asleep. After the day she’s had, she really does need to eat something.

  Once I have the greasy bags in hand, I make my way across the street. Pulling my key card out, I decide to stop by my room first. The day was a shit show, and I just want to get out of my cut and boots. I’m covered in sweat and grime. She and I have connecting rooms, so she’s only a knock away.

  Today did not go how I thought it would. I thought we’d go, get whatever shit was salvageable and be done with it. Dead bodies and digging a grave was not on the agenda.

  As soon as I get my door open, it hits something solid. Just as I'm about to drop the food and draw my piece, I see it’s the door connecting Angel's room to mine. She must have opened it so I could leave the food without bothering her. I dump the bags on the table by the door.

  Drawing deep breaths to slow my racing heart, I shrug out of my cut and boots before walking into her room with food in hand. A quick glance around the room reveals she isn’t asleep yet, thank fuck. But she isn’t in the room. The sound of running water behind the bathroom door fills my ears. So, she’s still in the shower.

  After setting the food out on the table, I make myself comfortable in one of the chairs and dig into my bacon cheeseburger. I moan around the bite in my mouth. Damn, that’s good. Not only am I fucking starving, but I'm hoping the smell will make her realize how hungry she is. With a thump, the water turns off, so I know she’ll be out shortly.

  The door opens, and I choke on the burger that seconds ago was the embodiment of heaven. She walks to the mirror on the wall with her towel in hand, vigorously drying her hair. Problem? She’s buck naked. Breath still hasn’t entered my lungs. Forcing my throat muscles to swallow, I can't even deny the way my dick reacts to seeing her standing there with the water from her hair dripping down her plump ass. She has an amazing body. She’s thick in all the right places, and that ass… Well, it has my full attention.

  Somehow by the grace of God, she hasn’t seen me, and I can't seem to get my brain to work long enough to let her know I’m in here. Finally, knowing damn good and well staring like a creeper is going to be hard to explain, I clear my throat to make my presence known. In the mirror, her eyes snap to the table, colliding with mine. She squeals, then bolts back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Ten minutes later, after a lot of thinking about my grandma, I make my way to the bathroom door. My knuckles rap on the door, and I question, “Angel, you good?”

  The door creaks open a tad. Without making eye contact, she says, “Can you please bring me my bag? It's on the bed. I’ve been sitting in here waiting for you to leave. This towel’s too damn small to come out in.”

  Smirking, I can't help but reply, “I’ve already seen you without a towel, sweet cheeks. I think it would’ve been alright to come out.”

  Her head snaps up, her eyes glaring at me. “Pinche Madre. You were supposed to still be eating AT Denny’s. I would’ve never opened the adjoining door if I knew you’d be sitting in here like some manioso,” she exclaims.

  “A what?” I ask, with a slight shake of my head. Mani huh? What the hell is that? I have a love-hate relationship with her yelling at me in Spanish. Without fail, my dick jumps to attention because come the fuck on, it’s hot as hell. But I don’t have a fucking clue what the hell she's saying, and that drives me crazy.

  “Manioso. Now, will you give me my damn bag,” she grinds out with fire in her eyes.

  Walking over to the bed, I grab the bag in question. And because I'm a dick, when I get to the bathroom do
or, I hold it just out of reach and ask, “What does that mean?”

  She huffs out, “You really want to know, puto?”

  My only answer is to nod.

  “Fine. It means you’re a fucking pervert,” she explains as she opens the door a bit more, takes a step forward and grabs the bag before slamming the door in my face.

  Taking a step back, my mouth drops open as I take in the meaning. “What the fuck? I’m not a damn pervert,” I holler at her through the door.

  Right, because standing outside her bathroom doesn’t scream pervert. Fuck my life. Stomping over to the table, I grab my food. She doesn’t want to eat? Screw it. That’s on her. Not my damn problem.

  Slamming the connecting door between our rooms, I look around for something to punch the hell out of. The lock on my side is fucking broken! Isn’t that fucking great? I didn’t even think about how she got it open in the first place. I never unlocked it, and I was too worried someone was in my damn room to think about it when I found it open.

  I don’t need this shit right now. I'm going to finish eating my burger, take a damn shower and figure out how to track down Wrecker. We have a meeting tomorrow night with Hyde and some of the other Dominion members. Hopefully, they can give us some information on Angel's parents. The faster I get her the answers she needs, the quicker I can drop her ass off back with Cess.

  Best friend or not, she's getting a fucking earful from me when I take Angel back. There's no way in hell she didn’t know this chick would be a pain in my ass. She’s probably sitting in the clubhouse right now laughing her ass off about all of this. Manioso… You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  Chapter 10

  Angel

  Crash. I flinch when the door slamming shakes the wall. Why is this puto mad at me? He’s the one that was sitting in the corner watching me dry off like a creeper. Who the hell does that anyway? Yes, I opened the door between our rooms so he could bring me my chicken strips. But I sure as hell didn’t expect him to be out there when I finished in the shower. My mind backtracks to the moments before he scared the shit out of me.

  Before stepping out of the bathroom, I tried to dry off some. But the room was too small, and the mirror was all fogged up, so I walked out. I didn’t even try to wrap the towel around myself. It isn’t like that little towel would have stayed wrapped around my ass anyway. I'll never understand why they give you kid-sized towels at hotels. How much more could the larger ones actually cost?

  Walking out of the bathroom dressed in my pj's now, my stomach growls. Damn, I’m starving. Denny’s has never smelled so good. We used to go to Denny’s and hang out when I was in high school. I love the buffalo chicken tenders. They're never quite spicy enough though.

  Grabbing my food from the table, I sit Indian-style on the bed, putting the to-go box on my lap. Turning on the TV, I start flipping through the channels looking for something worth watching. I'm halfway through devouring my dinner when I switch the channel, and the local Spanish station comes on.

  It’s a channel I used to watch with mi mama almost every day growing up. I haven’t watched it since I was taken. It’s like a punch to the gut, but I can’t bring myself to change the channel. Finishing up my food, I curl into a ball under the covers and fall asleep to the sound of her favorite novela. Random or not, it makes me feel close to her having it on in the background.

  Bang, bang, bang. I jump at the sound. The door between my room and Havoc’s trembles with each knock. Half-awake, I stumble over to open the door and open it. Without a word of greeting, he shoves a bag of do-nuts at me. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I look down at the bag and then up at Havoc.

  “I’m going for a ride. We’re meeting with Hyde and the Dominion MC at six tonight. I’ll be back before we need to go. You need anything before I leave?” he grumbles.

  Planting my hand on my hip, I look up at him. “No, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself,” I sass him, before turning to walk back to the bed. I don’t like being woken up, especially not by some cranky-ass man. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I glare at Havoc.

  Throwing his hands up in the air in surrender, he shakes his head. “Whatever, my number’s in the burner if you need something,” he says before pulling the door closed.

  Once I know he’s gone, I tear open the bag of do-nuts. Krispy Kreme do-nuts are my Achilles heel. I can never eat just one. These are so fresh. They're still hot, and they smell amazing. He either didn’t know what kind I would like, or he thinks I can seriously put down some do-nuts. I pull out my go-to original glazed and decide on the kreme filled one too. I'm sure I'll be in a sugar coma all damn day, but it's not like I have anything else to do with Havoc gone.

  As soon as my belly is full and I’m hopped up on sugar, I fall back asleep. A racket coming from Havoc's room wakes me. He must be back, but why the hell is he making so much noise? I walk over and rip the door open ready to give him hell for waking me up. Again. His side of the door is still slightly ajar, but instead of Havoc hearing my wrath, it’s the devil himself. Wrecker is the one making all the noise.

  Freezing at the sight of the man who once held me captive, I don’t know whether to scream or hide. Within a few seconds, Wrecker feels my eyes on him and snaps his head in my direction. His wicked smile at the sight of me makes him seem even more sinister and jumps me into action. I slam the connecting door and turn the lock just before he can twist the knob back open. He slams into the door trying to force it open or break it down, but luckily it holds. “Angel,” he growls.

  It’s so quiet after he stops trying to break down the door that I think I could hear a pin drop, and it scares the shit out of me. My ears strain for any sound. Havoc's door closes with a click, and my heart sinks to my stomach. Can he get into my room too? Running to the door, I snap the latch down just before he tries to push the door open. It catches, but still opens just enough for him to reach through. His hand darts out, and he grabs my long hair, pinning me in place.

  “Tell him to stop hunting me, Angel. This is my last warning,” he spits out menacingly before releasing my hair.

  As soon as his hand isn’t blocking it, I close the door and re-lock it. Sliding to the floor, I tuck my knees to my chest and break down. Why the hell didn’t I do something? I didn’t do anything Rodeo trained me to do. Hell, I don’t even have the glock on me. It's still in my bag in the bathroom. A lot of fucking good it’ll do me in there.

  Too afraid of being seen if he’s still outside, I crawl on the floor to the bathroom and grab the gun from my bag. Hugging it to my chest, I pull out the burner phone. With shaky fingers, I tap out a quick message to Havoc.

  Wrecker was here

  Then I turn the phone off. I don’t know how long it takes before there’s pounding on the door again, but I’m still in my curled-up position in the doorway of the bathroom. And I certainly don’t plan on moving now. I don’t care who the hell’s at the door.

  Chapter 11

  Havoc

  When the text came in from Angel, I lost my shit. Images of Wrecker getting to her, taking her captive, hurting her flashed through my mind in rapid succession. They scared me more than I’d like to admit. I hauled ass all the way back to this damn motel.

  “Angel,” I yell while pounding on the door.

  She isn’t answering. Why the fuck isn’t she answering me? When people start to poke their heads out of their rooms around us to see what all the commotion is about, I remember the connecting door. Hopefully, I can get in through there.

  Rushing into my room, I see that my side of the door is still open, but when I try to open the door into hers, it doesn’t budge. Damn, it's locked. I don’t have time for this shit. I need to make sure she’s alright. Wracking my brain for ideas on how to get into her room, I do the first thing that comes to mind and start kicking down the door. Thank fuck for steel-toed boots. In less than three minutes the door is in splinters.

  Breathing heavily, I step through the broken-to-shit door and scan the ro
om for Angel. When my eyes finally land on her, she’s curled up on the floor by the bathroom. My fists clench tightly. I want to hurt someone. This is all my fucking fault. I should’ve never left her alone. Damn it!

  Rushing over to her, I catch a glimpse of Rodeo’s glock clutched to her chest. Her white knuckles are a sharp contrast against the metal of the gun as she holds it in a death grip. I don’t want to startle her and end up taking a bullet, so I stop a few steps away from her.

  “Angel, it's Havoc,” I say softly, sighing as I run a hand through my hair. “I’m going to sit down next to you, alright sweet cheeks?” No words come out of her. No nod of acknowledgement. No eye contact. Nothing. She does nothing to let me know she's even heard me. Maybe she’s in shock or some shit. I slowly move to sit down next to her. Once I’m settled beside her, I see the burner on the floor. She must have turned it off, because I know I called her at least a dozen times on the ride back here. It went straight to fucking voicemail every time.

  I gently start stroking her hair hoping, like Cess and Lil, it’ll comfort her. Her body tenses at the first touch.

  “It’s just me, sweet cheeks. No one's going to hurt you,” I croon to her softly.

  Her body is still wound tightly, but her shoulders relax some at my words. I scoot a bit closer and pull her head onto my knee while I continue stroking her hair. A few minutes later dampness begins to seep into my jeans from the tears she’s silently crying. We sit like this for almost a half an hour before she finally speaks.

  “He said this was your last warning, to stop hunting him,” she whispers her eyes staring off at nothing.

  My hand stops mid-stroke, and I freeze. No matter how much I need to know, I can't seem to get the words out. How the fuck do I ask her this after what she just went through?

  My free hand clenches into a fist. “Did he hurt you?” I growl. She shakes her head no. Thank you, God.