Page 20 of Dread’s Beloved

Caudill offered up a deputy for protection, but the last thing I need is another man telling me what to do and when. I can barely go to the bathroom alone.

“I’m sorry things turned out this way,” I tell him as I add a little color to his lips. I doubt anyone will even show. Murderers don’t normally have a service, but Zane is no killer. He might have been a liar and a cheat, but he’d never do this. It makes me sick that everyone buys the cover story. All because the prison and LEO don’t want anyone to know there's a killer on the run.

We’re holding a private late-night service for his parents. Then he will be cremated, and his ashes will rest in an urn in my bedroom. Once the apartment is clear, Sukie will move everything into storage for me. I won’t be here to do it myself.

I’m being forced to go into hiding until this shit is over.

When it’s over, I’ll sort through Zane’s stuff. I’ll keep our wedding photos and donate furniture and clothing. Then I will get on with life because we have no choice but to keep living it or give up, and I’m no quitter.

I stare at the man I’ve grown to hate at times and remember the boy I once loved more than anything. The one with the crooked smile who’d come to school hungry and bruised, pretending life at home was fine. How I loved him and wanted to save him from his terrible family, and I did. I thought he loved me the same as I did him. I think he used to before we both grew older and we changed. Started wanting different things.

“I hope it didn’t hurt, and that it was over before you realized what was happening to you.” I smooth out his hair. “I loved you, honey. Sometimes a little too much. I just hope that when it was good, I made you happy.” I touch his face one last time.

We don’t know if Donavon knows he got the wrong girl. Blair’s name has been kept out of the media, but we’re running out of time. I have to leave before it all goes public.

I grab my backpack and meet Dread outside. My hair is braided and tucked down into the back of my hoodie. I have a black bandana tied over the lower half of my face. Once I have my helmet on, it will be hard to identify me, and I’ll have it on before we pull out of the bay where all the loading and unloading happens. The doors are closed and won’t open until we’re ready to pull out.

One of the prospects will follow us to the state line. Once we cross into West Virigina one of Nightshade’s men will escort us to Hell’s Hollow.

“You got everything?” Dread asks.

“Ready as I can be. Thank you for doing this. I know it sucks to give up your life for an unknown amount of time and put it on hold.”

“You won’t hear me complaining. I get to ride with a pretty woman. Visit some old friends. It’s all good.” He plops my helmet on my head and taps the top. “Let’s ride.”

I climb onto the back of his black Dyna that has a newly mounted bitch seat. I’ve never seen Dread with a woman on the back of his bike. Sure, he’s had women he’s fucked around the clubhouse, but never has he put them on his motorcycle.

I know it doesn’t mean anything. That he’s following the orders given by my brother. But I’d be a terrible liar if I didn’t confess knowing that I’m the first and only gives me a secret thrill.

One I’ll only allow myself to feel––to gloat over when I’m alone and need something to make me smile.

The bay doors roll open and we take off like a shot in the dark. My arms wrapped around him, tits pressed to his back. I’m terrified that any minute now a shot will ring out and take us down, but the winding road is dark and canopied by the trees and cloaked in fog, making visibility impossible. The prospect is waiting for us at the edge of the west side of town. Normally we’d pass through Ransom to hit the highway, but we’re going the long way on a back road that doesn’t see much travel and circling back to make sure we aren’t being followed other than Spike. Then we’ll hit the highway for a straight shot to West Virginia. Other members of the club are hitting different routes to scramble Donovan or the Raven Fork Reapers if any of them are watching for us. They can’t catch us all.

Dread has his cut under his leather jacket. No colors or patches on display, and his motorcycle doesn’t have any identifying markers. We should be fine, but we’re prepared for the worst.

I know Dread wouldn’t let them take me easily.

It’s nearing dawn when we cross the river into West Virginia. Once we pass the oil refinery, Spike turns back, and Knives picks up where he left off tailing us. I’d recognize the paint job on his motorcycle anywhere. He’s got these knives with skull handles painted on the gas tank, and his helmet has the same design.

He’s Sukie’s brother and is good friends with my brother. We were all raised as biker brats together.

Our moms used to joke that Dark and Sukie would marry and that I’d marry Knives. Back then, he was simply Justin. I never thought about him in that way, and by the time I became interested in boys, Zane was all I had eyes for, and Justin was spending most of his time with their dad, Spook. He’s the club’s medic for the West Virginia Chapter of Grave Prowlers MC.

Neither of them visits Kill Creek often. Not after Spook’s divorce from Lundie. Knives comes for special occasions like birthdays and holidays, but that’s about it. We’d even set him up with Blair at one point. He said she was fast and loose. At the time, I didn’t know what he meant by that. Looking back, I should have seen Blair’s intentions. She’d wear low-cut tops, and her eyes would linger a little too long on Zane.

None of that matters now. I wonder if he knows Blair is dead.

We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I can’t wait to tell him I saw his sister necking with my brother.

Hell’s Hollow is a lot like Kill Creek. Small town where everyone knows everyone and all your business. Except the town got its name because of a cave that looks like a skull with its mouth open as the entrance. Some say it’s the mouth to Hell. We drive through town, passing all the local businesses, and take the road that winds up a hillside, then comes down the other side to a valley where the road to the clubhouse is off a hidden entrance. At first glance, it looks like a spot to turn around, but if you know where to go, you’ll turn down another road and drive until you hit the gate to the compound. Nightshade and his crew like their privacy. Like the other Grave Prowler MC chapters, they own the local funeral home and make their money running guns in their custom coffins.

Some say they sell body parts and organs on the black market. I don’t know how true that is, and I don’t want to find out.

The clubhouse started out as an old block-style barn building that was once part of a dairy farm. Now it's been built onto and remodeled so much you’d never know.

We’re stopped at the gate by a prospect named Pookie. He’s short and chubby with a beard that reaches the middle of his chest. He holds a bucket out to us and says, “No phones allowed inside.”

Dread unzips his jacket to fish his cell out of the inner pocket of his cut before dropping it in the plastic container. My cell is back home, but I have a burner in my backpack that I reluctantly hand over while hoping Dread has a secondary phone.