Turning Point: BBW Motorcycle Club Erotic Romance Read online

  “Come on.” She took a step away from the crowd, and headed back to the compound.

  Snake

  The Castaways’ warehouse was in flames. Snake could see the red glow in his mirrors. Now his thoughts turned to Faith, and what the Castaways might be doing to her. He hated that she was in danger because of him, and all over some stupid stunt, her brother and Rob had put her up to. She would have been so much better off if she had never walked into his life at all.

  Thinking like that did no good. She was in his life, and now he had to protect her. Hard when he was too far away to know what was going on. Had the Castaways got hold of her, perhaps raped her, or worse? No. Surely if she were dead he would know, he would feel it inside.

  Unable to bear those thought he concentrated in getting them there as quickly as possible, without attracting too much attention. However, when they were half way across town, the explosion in the distance told him it was too late if they wanted this done discreetly. The warehouses must have gone up. It’s what he would have done if he was a Castaway.

  What if she was inside? He throttled his bike, no longer caring about the speed limit, and headed for the black smoke rising in the distance.

  ***

  When they reached the hangout, the scene before him was not what he expected. As far as he could tell, the compound was fairly intact. Doors had been kicked in, but this was not where the fire was coming from. Instead, the smoke and smell of burning fuel was rising from the back of the compound.

  “Take a couple of men and go see what that’s all about. But stay out of sight,” he said to one of his men.

  After watching them go, he turned his attention to the bar. “Come on,” he said, and the rest of them fanned out and entered their home territory.

  The place was a mess, tables tipped up, glass and broken wood over the floor. It was all superficial damage, nothing they couldn’t fix. His real concern was the gunshot he had heard, and who had been hit by it.

  “Here!”

  Snake found one of his men bent down over Smithy. “Alive?” he asked.

  A shake of the head told Snake what he already knew. The amount of blood on the floor was too much for anyone to survive losing. It had already started to congeal, darkening and going sticky in the warm air.

  “Get rid of the body; put it in the hole for now. That fire is going to draw attention, more than we need. Cover this up.” He left a couple of his men to deal with it, and then went back into the bar. “We’re going to have to move the guns, and everything else we don’t want found. Everything needs to go in the pit. Now.”

  He led the way out of the bar, and out into the warehouse. While some of the men took the crates to the deep pit they used to hide any contraband, the rest of them armed themselves.

  “Let’s go!”

  Snake jogged out of the warehouse, his adrenalin pumping. There had been no sign of Faith when his men had swept the rest of the building, this could mean two things. She was with the Castaways as their captive, or she was hiding somewhere. If she was hiding, why the hell hadn’t she come out?

  “Snake!” There in front of him was Don, the Cult Castaways’ President.

  “You and your men are trespassing on our property.”

  “This won’t be your property for much longer. We’re going to take everything you’ve got.”

  “You’ve got it wrong. That is not how it’s going to turn out, so I suggest you and your men get on your bikes and go.”

  “You’re a funny man, Snake. Always did make me laugh, a joke, I think is what I called you.”

  “I’m not laughing, Don. You’ve killed one of my men, and someone will have to pay.” Snake was trying to read Don. Surely if he had Faith, he would have used her as a bargaining chip by now.”

  “I’d say we’re more than even on that. You just blew our bikes up, and that is worse than murder in my book.”

  Snake laughed. “Ahh, so that was what we heard. Turned to ash no doubt, like the rest of your stuff.” Snake turned and pointed off into the distance where a black pall of smoke was rising into the air.

  “What the fuck have you done?”

  “I’ve destroyed you, Don. There was never room in this town for both of us. Calling yourself the Castaways, well now you are truly lost at sea.”

  “Not without a fight, Snake. We’ve got enough firepower to take you down.”

  “Are you so sure. ‘Cos right now, I have a man aiming a gun right at your head.”

  “Don’t bluff, Snake. We’d take you out first.”

  “My man is behind you. You’ll hit the ground before you even get one shot off.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No. Although if you want to try it, I won’t cry any tears over your dead body. Good riddance,” Snake said, spitting on the ground by Don’s feet.

  In the distance, the wailing of sirens could be heard. The police were close now.

  “Walk away, Don. The police will be very interested in Smithy’s body. Or you could leave before they get here.”

  Don knew he was beat. They couldn’t have a showdown with the police so close. Especially with their compound torched, they had nowhere to run, and no bikes to escape on.

  He started to walk away, his men following, then at the last moment he turned and drew his gun. A shot sounded, and Don grabbed his shoulder, he had blood coming from a wound. He sank to his knees, holding the wound.

  “Get him up and leave,” Snake said to the other Castaways. They grabbed him, the sirens getting closer. “I would move a bit quicker if I was you.”

  Men scattered everywhere. The Castaways out of the compound, and the Dread Cult going inside and dumping everything in the pit.

  By the time the police cars were outside the compound, lights flashing, most of the men were in the bar, drink in hand.

  “Afternoon, officer,” Snake said.

  “Snake. This is going to be an expensive clean up,” the police officer said, removing his hat.

  “Sit down and rest yourself, I’m sure we can come to some arrangement,” Snake said, smiling and pulling a thick wad of notes from his pocket. “It’s good to see you, Greg.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Faith

  She tried to stand her ground next to Irish, who had his rifle pointed at one of the Castaways. However, when he pulled the trigger she ducked for cover. The whole thing so surreal, from the smoke rising from the gun, to the smell, and the sight of the man falling to his knees clutching his arm.

  Irish stood coolly with not a bead of sweat or a single tremor in his hands. This man was a professional, and she tried not to feel so bad about being such a coward. All she should really care about was that Snake was safe, and the Castaways were now moving away. The gunshot had done its job, causing them to scatter.

  She hoped that was the end of it, but before she could feel that everything was going to be OK, the police arrived. Snake and his men disappeared into the hangout, while Irish grabbed her and took her out of sight.

  “Oh, god the police are here. Will they arrest everyone?” she asked Irish.

  “No,” he said, smiling. “Snake has enough of them on his payroll, this will disappear.”

  “What about Smithy?”

  “What about him?”

  “He was murdered.”

  “Faith, we live outside the law. At some point we’ll bury him, and that will be the end of it.”

  “But the Castaways shot him.”

  “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but it will be OK. His family will be taken care of.”

  “But there should be a trial, someone should go to jail.”

  “Who? No one in the Castaways is going to own up to it. And we don’t need that kind of heat from the law.” He frowned at her worried face. “Let it go, his family will be taken care of, Snake will see to that.”

  They slipped out of the warehouse, and back towards the bar. Faith’s mood lifting a little when she caught sight of Snake, but he was talki
ng to the police officer, and her nerves resurfaced. Then Snake handed over some notes, and the police officer sat down with him to have a drink, laughing and joking as he put the cash in his wallet.

  Faith felt sick, had Smithy meant so little to them? His life paid for with a quick bribe, and then forgotten. She watched the scene before her, and again felt out of her depth.

  “Come on,” Irish said. “Why don’t you wait in Snake’s office?” He opened the door and ushered a visibly shaken Faith inside.

  “I could just go home.”

  “Not until you’ve spoken to Snake and let him explain a few things. It’s not how you imagine it to be, you know.”

  “I could wait at home.” Although she didn’t think she had the strength to get herself there.

  “Stay put,” Irish demanded. “I’ll be back with a drink for you as soon as I can. It’s been a rough day, so don’t do anything stupid.”

  His words made Faith remember that he wasn’t a sweet old man, he was a killer, and she suspected the deaths he had caused were not only through defending his country.

  She went and sat in Snake’s chair behind the desk. Her body was so weary she struggled to stay awake, all she wanted to do was place her head on the desk and sleep, and she didn’t care how hard or uncomfortable it was.

  When the door opened, she hardly looked up, expecting it to be Irish. Instead, Snake stood in the doorway, a drink in his hand. Instantly life flashed back into her, she sat up and looked at him expectantly.

  “I thought you were busy with the police,” Faith said.

  “No, they’ve gone over to the Cult Castaways to get some statements about the fire sweeping through their compound. So luckily they didn’t hang around.” He came over and put the drink down on the desk. “Here, this will lift you a bit.”

  “What is it?” she asked, sniffing it. Whatever it was it smelt strong, and she knew if she drank it, she would feel a lot more relaxed, and find the day less stressful. That was probably the point of it, to dull her senses so she didn’t ask awkward questions.

  “Irish made it, said you needed a pick me up.”

  “I think that would knock me down instead.”

  He laughed. “Probably, knowing Irish. I’ll get you something else if you want. And a couple of the guys have gone for food, so that will make you feel better. Been quite a day hasn’t it?”

  “I’ll say.” She couldn’t see how any of them could think about eating right now. She wondered where they had put Smithy, and what they planned to do with the body. “Don’t worry about food for me. I don't think I could stomach anything.”

  “Try. The day isn’t over yet. When it gets dark, we have to go out and bury our dead. It’s going to be a long night.”

  “Where? Where do you bury him so he won’t be found?”

  “You don’t need to know where. But you do need to come. I had left him here to protect you, and it’s only right you come with us.”

  “Of course. It’s just...I don’t understand why you didn’t tell the police. Why isn’t one of the Castaways under arrest for murder?”

  “That’s not how these things work. Smithy knew what he was getting involved in. The Castaways have been all but destroyed, and there is no way the police would ever find out who the true culprit was. That gun is probably a pool of molten metal by now. There would be no way to trace who did it. These are the rules we live by, Faith.”

  She put her face in her hands, trying not to cry. “I know, truly I am trying to understand. I guess I feel so horrible because he was here for me. Like you said, you left him here to protect me, and he wound up dead.”

  Snake came to her and knelt down, easing her hands away from her face. “It’s not your fault Faith. It could have been any of us, and for any reason, the thing with the Castaways has been brewing for months. Don didn’t agree with the way I ran things, so he took off. He always wanted to come back and take over, At least that's over now. I’m not saying they won’t be pissed as hell over this, but they have limited resources now, and most importantly no bikes.”

  “I didn’t know that. I thought they were just a rival gang.”

  “No, it runs much deeper than that. But tomorrow I’m going to send Crag out to offer some of the members of the Castaways a chance to join us, to come home. If Smithy’s death has given us a chance to make peace, and end the conflict between us, then that’s a good thing.”

  “I guess.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  “Smithy wasn’t the first person to lose their life because of the way things were between the clubs. Today it came to a head, that’s all. But let’s put it out of our minds for now. We need to make arrangements for Smithy.”

  He got up, and offered her his hand. She wiped her face on her sleeve, and took his hand, feeling comforted by the warmth of his skin on hers. As she stood by the side of him, he pulled her close, wrapping his strong arms around her.

  “Once this is over I’ll take you home. A good night's sleep will help you to see things clearer. Perhaps we could get away for a few days too.”

  “That would be nice. Although with this face, I’ll stand out, people are bound to stare at my bruises.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her cheek gently. “We could always hole up in a hotel room and order room service. There are plenty of things I could think of we could get up to that do not require us going out.”

  She slapped him lightly across the chest, finding his words somehow inappropriate considering Smithy’s death. However, the fact that he still wanted her, that he was thinking of their future together, made things a little better.

  “Let’s get this done. I don’t know how much more strength I have in me.”

  “Enough for us to fool around a little later, I hope.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it before leading her out of his office.

  They joined the others, some had already gone ahead to make arrangements, Faith didn’t want to know any details. It all still seemed too unreal. Feeling like she didn’t belong here, she kept close to Snake, glad when at last he went out to his bike, offering her a helmet, and then lifting his leg over his polished machine.

  She climbed on behind him, and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, finding his presence comforting. He started his engine, and led the rest of the Dread Cult out onto the road, this time they didn’t care who looked and stared at so many bikes riding together. Faith gathered they were heading out into the country, somewhere private, where they could do what needed to be done, unseen by prying eyes.

  The miles passed by, her mood shifting until she felt calmer, and more relaxed. Faith had trouble remembering everything that had happened in the few short days since she had met Snake. Her world had shifted, leaving her with some hard choices to make. Was she willing to trust him, to be his woman? Could she live the life they did, or would it drive her to the brink of insanity? All the deals that went on, bribes to the police were something she had naively thought were made up, but she figured it was a small part of the corruption mountain.

  However, leaning her head against his hard, toned back, she knew she was already in too deep. She had to give him a chance, to try this new life, and hope that if it didn’t work out, she would be able to pick up and start again. That had to be better than giving up on love.

  Sighing, she resigned herself to that revelation. It was only when he was in so much danger that the truth had struck her. Now she intended to get used to the idea before she shared it with him.

  They turned off the road, the club members strung out in single file or two abreast as the traversed the rutted track. On they went, Faith wanting the whole thing to be over, yet dreading what was to come. She was no part of this, yet she was responsible in so many ways. Would they judge her for that, or let it go now she was Snake’s woman.

  She needn’t have worried; they took little notice of her once they stopped. A grave had already been dug for Smithy, and his body was wrapped in a blanket, a burial shroud of sorts. Some of
the men spoke about him, a few shed tears, there was no anger over what had happened, more of an acceptance of the life they had all chosen. It could have been any one of them lying under the earth, and they all knew that.

  When Snake stepped forward to speak, she was lost. For a woman who had spent her whole life apart from people, not trusting or depending on them for much, this was a shock. They were connected, and she longed for him, for the reassurance that he gave her. He was a formidable man, and he was hers. When tears sprung to her eyes, some of those stood around might have thought they were Smithy. They would be wrong. The dam of emotion in her finally breaking down caused her tears. She was needy in a way she had never known.

  This was not her wanting acceptance from Stan and Rob, that was a childish whim, the need to be included, rather than excluded from the cool kids. Now her need was that of a woman. To know that her man was there for her, it didn’t matter what size her body was, or whether she worked in a store. This incredible man had taken her, curves and all, and had defended her, even though a man had lost his life.

  When he came back to her she had to restrain herself, or she would have flung herself into his arms. Not appropriate under the circumstances. However, as soon as they were more private, that was exactly what she did.

  “You look dead on your feet,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

  “Will you stay with me?”

  “Do you want me to stay? If I do, I don’t know how much sleeping you’ll be doing.”

  Her body felt a thrill of excitement. His words lighted a fire in her, stirring her to life. “I don’t care as long as you are with me. I can’t face being on my own tonight, so much has happened.”

  He didn’t answer, but the look he gave her said it all. In no time he had spoken to Crag, passing over command it seemed, and then they left. A solitary bike in the dimming evening light. Faith allowed herself to lose herself into a dream world where they were the only two people in the world, not ties, no other people to answer to. It was nice while it lasted, but when they got to her apartment, reality set back in. Only this reality was one she didn’t mind living, because it consisted of his arms wrapped around her waist, and his lips pressed against hers.