** This bonus scene originally appeared in a special iBooks version of Wicked Need. This scene contains spoilers and should be read only after reading Wicked Need. **
I turn off the main highway onto a dirt road. It’s unmarked and has no mailbox to proclaim someone lives at the other end. I borrowed Woolf’s truck to come out here because my Corvette would never make it with all the potholes and loose gravel that would kick up. Besides, the men of Mayhem’s Mission wouldn’t trust someone showing up in a ride like that.
Not that they’re going to trust me anyway, but I need to talk to Kyle to see if he can give me something to find the fucker who attacked Cat. Just like Rand, I’m convinced that asshole will point the finger at Kevin Vaughn. I’m sure of it.
I follow the dirt road that winds back among a large grove of cottonwood and ash trees about a quarter of a mile. It’s private and secluded back here, and the entrance to the compound is closed with a rolling fence guarded by two men. While nothing is visible, there’s no doubt they’re packing and would be prepared to stop by force someone they didn’t want coming in.
I happen to be on the permanent “invited guest” list for Mayhem’s Mission because I’ve been able to provide some private entertainment for the club president on occasion. Turns out his old lady likes her shit kinkier than even he can dole out, and he enjoys watching me take a strap or cat o’ nine to her when she’s feeling frisky. In turn, I’ve been invited out to more than a few parties held at the compound. I’ve accepted on many occasions, mainly to get away from The Wicked Horse and The Silo. While a motorcycle club compound isn’t necessarily my idea of a good time on all occasions, I do enjoy coming here to have a few beers and pound some club whore pussy when the mood strikes. It’s quick, anonymous, and then it’s forgotten, unlike the waitresses I might fuck at The Wicked Horse. With those girls, I have to continually look in their disappointed eyes if I don’t choose them. That’s just a level of awkward I don’t like to mess with.
Coming to a stop at the gate, I roll down the driver’s side window. One of the biker’s walks up to it, but I don’t recognize him, even though he’s clearly a member as evidenced by his Mission cut. But that’s not unusual. This is a huge club and the largest charter of Mayhem’s Mission in the United States. I could never hope to know all of them.
“I’m here to see Kyle,” I tell the guy, who just glares at me on the other side of the door.
“Bridger?” he asks, and I nod in affirmation. I’d called Kyle about an hour ago to see if we could meet up, and he must have given them my name.
The man grunts at me and then lifts his chin to the other guy, who unlocks the gate and slides it across the dirt and gravel so I can enter. I put the truck in drive and navigate my way to the front of the compound. Even though there’s a locked gate manned with armed guards, the building itself is surrounded by an eight-foot wooden wall with barbed wire strung in huge coils across the top. No clue what these dudes think is coming after them, but in case of the zombie apocalypse, I know where I’m seeking refuge
A double gate in the wall opens up as I step out of the truck, pocketing the keys as I go. I’m surprised to see Kyle waiting there for me with two Budweisers in his hand.
He hands one to me as soon as I cross the gate threshold, and I wait for him to pull it closed and lock it behind him. Turning, he walks away from the entrance to the compound, going around to the side yard area where there are several picnic tables and a pit for a bonfire.
“Sounded like what you wanted to talk about was private,” Kyle says as I follow him over to a table that sits a few feet away from the pit, which has embers in the bottom that are still smoking. I figure there was a party last night that lasted well into the early hours today.
Kyle is a big dude… taller than me by only about an inch, but he seems to have twice as much muscle, and I’ve got a lot. He looks classic biker with his blond hair worn long and shaggy way past his shoulders and covered with a Harley Davidson skull cap. His beard isn’t long but it’s full, and he’s got two full arm sleeves of tattoos, his right forearm sporting the same skull that resides on the back of his Mission cut.
“It’s private,” I agree as I watch him lean his ass on the end of the table and pull a swig of beer from his bottle.
“Too many inside… getting ready for a meeting in about an hour,” he says, and I nod before taking a sip of beer.
Kyle Sommerville is an interesting character. I met him about a year ago through Woolf, as his brother Tenn is good friends with Kyle. He’s the manager of Teton Choppers and also the senior body man. I was in the market to get some custom work done on an old Harley I had purchased a few years before and just let sit in my garage. One thing led to another, and after my bike was fixed up, we’d had developed a buddy-type friendship. He’d invite me out to the compound for parties. Sometimes, we’d enjoy a girl together. He also introduced me to his president, Zeke Powell, who in turn introduced me to his old lady, Kayla, and another friendship of sorts was struck up.
While I like Kyle a lot, and have no qualms with really any of them, I’m not stupid enough to imagine that this is just a leisure motorcycle club of men who get together because they have a passion for riding. I’ve seen enough inside the walls of the compound to know some serious criminal shit goes down, so I’m very careful in my dealings with them.
Kyle—I can’t quite figure out. He’s a full-patch member of the club, which tells me that he’s involved deep with whatever criminal enterprise they have going on. I find this oddly fascinating since his sister used to be an FBI agent but now practices law in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I’ve come to know him enough to realize he loves his sister a lot, but I can tell he’s hiding a world of shit from her too.
Regardless, I feel comfortable enough with Kyle that I can ask him this favor. The worst that will happen is he’ll tell me to go to hell, and I don’t have a lot of time to waste wondering, so I lay it on the line to him.
“Friend of mine got attacked last night outside her home,” I say as I watch him carefully. His blue eyes rimmed with blond lashes stare at me impassively. “Guy who attacked her had a Mission patch on his cut.”
He shows me no reaction other than a slight bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows before saying, “Any better description than that?”
I nod. “Dark hair, full beard, and a teardrop tattoo under his right eye.”
Kyle let’s out a bark of a laugh and looks at me like I’m a dumbass. “You described about fifty percent of the members here.”
“It was a hit,” I say, and Kyle’s laugh instantly dies away. “He said he had orders.”
“And you think the orders were from the club?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him candidly. “I just know she was attacked, was going to get raped and killed, and the guy was wearing your club colors and said he was ordered to do it. This friend of mine is a good girl, and I want to help her.”
Kyle still doesn’t give anything away, preferring to glean more information. “Any idea who would have hired this guy to do it?”
I nod again. “Her late husband’s son. She stands to inherit a lot of money, and he hasn’t taken kindly to that.”
“So what… you think this guy just rolled up to the club one day and asked us to commit murder?” Kyle doesn’t sound offended, just curious as to my thinking.
“No, I don’t think that,” I tell him honestly. “But I believe without a doubt he’s behind the order. I have no clue how he roped the guy into doing it. Maybe he hired someone to make contact with him.”
Kyle nods because that’s the most plausible answer, but truth be told, it’s not important.
“You know if this was sanctioned by Zeke, I can’t tell you shit,” he says, his eyes flicking to the compound. I knew this already, so I don’t even bother replying. He knows I know this, so he continues on, “Even if it wasn’t, and this guy acted rogue, Zeke still may not give him up. Probably won’t actually. We protect what’s ours.”
“I understand, man,” is all I can offer. Because I get it, and I knew this was a long shot to begin with.
“This girl… she stands to inherit a lot of money?” Kyle asks bluntly.
“Yeah,” I hedge, not liking the direction of these questions.
Kyle looks again at the compound and then back to me. “Let’s say hypothetically this was a rogue act, and Zeke was considering giving him up… would your girl be willing to pay to make that happen?”
“No,” I say immediately, without even considering whether Cat would do that. She probably would, but I’m not having her get involved with these people. They’re dangerous on the best of days, and she doesn’t want to see the worst of days. “But… I’ll be glad to offer up my own money if that will help Zeke decide to help her.”
Kyle nods, another glance back to the compound, and then back to me again. “Zeke may ask for other things.”
“He’s not made it any secret what you do with him and his wife behind closed doors inside that building.” He lifts his chin in that direction. “Hell… we’ve all heard her screams when you’re in there with them.”
My stomach pitches. While Zeke has actually paid me well for my services I bestow on his wife, I don’t ever want to be beholden to him for that shit in a way I can’t refuse. Still, my voice is neutral when I say, “Not sure what else he can ask for… I’ve not turned him down yet as long as he pays my fee.”
Kyle shakes his head and leans toward me a bit. With a low voice, he says, “Not for his wife… for some other girls.”
“What other girls?”
“Club whores,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders, but something on his face reads a little like guilt. Still, he holds eye contact with me, making me wonder if what I just saw was true or just an illusion. I’m thinking maybe illusion, or maybe just a little distaste, because he explains further, “You know… like he’d want you to put on a show for the guys with some of the club whores.”
I breathe out a frustrated huff, rubbing my hand over my neck, which has progressively gotten tighter. My gaze cuts to the compound, and I wonder what I’m getting myself into. Finally, I look back to Kyle and say, “If Zeke gives the guy up, I’ll donate my services to the club. Subject to some boundaries on time commitments away from my own club, and of course… it would have to be with the girls’ consent.”
“Sure, man,” he says in a low voice… and there… right there… Kyle’s eyes drop down briefly to the ground before coming back up to stare at me. It’s either a signal he’s lying to me or he’s troubled by what we just agreed to.
Regardless, I can’t worry about that now. The deal’s been made, and I’m hoping it will help to ferret out the scumbag who tried to do Cat in. Then I can cross this problem off my list of many and turn my attention back to The Silo.
Back to keeping the furor down that Magnus Albright is stirring up by parading his beautiful virgin around. I swear, he walks her through The Silo and every man’s dick stands to full attention. He’ll strip her naked, put her on her knees, and tie her hands behind her back. Then he’ll pick a lucky bastard to get sucked off by the young beauty, and the men in the club almost get into fist fights over the opportunity. I’ve not seen anything like it. On any given day, I tell myself I need to shut that shit down.
But that would be contrary to my beliefs and reasons for having The Silo in the first place. First and foremost, it is a place to express your sexual freedom and creativity. That means some weird shit might go down there, but it’s done safely and without judgment. Of course, this all hinges on consent, because nothing happens in that club unless everyone says “yes”.
I make sure of this every single night.
I made damn sure of this before Magnus ever joined, insisting on a private conversation with his young virgin, Auralie. So I sat her in my office at The Wicked Horse, and we talked. Well, I talked and she mostly listened, but she responded to my questions without flinching or lowering her gaze. She was telling the truth when I asked her a flurry of questions.
Is Magnus auctioning off your virginity with your consent?
What about when he lets other men play with you? That’s also with your consent?
Suck other guys’ dicks?
Letting them touch you?
You’re okay with all of that?
Is he coercing you or threatening you in any way to say “yes” to all these questions?
For twenty minutes, I questioned her and came away at the end with knowing only a few things. She apparently consented to everything Magnus was doing and she was doing it of her own free will. While I couldn’t be sure, because she told me it was none of my business when I asked, I’m thinking she’s in desperate need of money and that is why she’s doing this. Not my place to judge the reasons why anyone does what they do in The Silo.
Hell, if people knew the reasons why I do what I do inside that round building, they’d undoubtedly be sickened. But we all do what we need to do to survive.
I do what I need to do to survive.
Leaning over, I set my beer bottle on the picnic table near Kyle’s hip. It’s light only one sip I took off it. Straightening up, I look directly at Kyle. “Tell Zeke I’d be grateful for anything he can do to help, and I’ll also be glad to donate my services to the club if he produces what I need. That means something solid the police can use to ultimately get to the guy who ordered the hit.”
This time, Kyle doesn’t look away from me in either guilt or deceit, but there is no mistaking the flattening of his lips in clear distaste when I said the word “services”. I don’t know what that means, but I can’t worry about that now.
Sticking his hand out, Kyle gives me an accepting nod. I shake hands with him.
Maybe with the devil, who knows?
Too late to turn back now.
“I gotta get going,” I tell Kyle as I release his hand and turn back toward the front of the compound. He follows me wordlessly, but I can hear the jangle of keys he’s pulling from a clip at his belt loop to open the gate back up for me.
I don’t come here often… only when I want something a little different from my ordinary pickings or when Zeke requests me, but as Kyle opens the gate for me and I step through toward the truck, I get the unmistakable feeling that I’ll be spending quite a bit of time here in the future.