Phoenix’s Plight by Tiffany Casper

 

”Only real men drink whiskey straight.”

- Heathen.

 

Chapter 2

Heathen

Heathen lurked in the shadows as he nursed his Jack Daniels Honey straight. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be on his bike, heading thirty minutes away.

Thirty minutes away, where her perfect body would be on top of him, under him, taking all he had to give and not once complaining about his size, and never once asking him to lessen his grip. Hell, how she never, not once, complained about his size, he didn’t know. He could probably fit two of her in one of his shirts.

Already his cock was hardening with every single second that he thought about her.

He didn’t know how it could get any better. He liked everything about that woman. Never once had he found a fault with her.

Sure, they had only been seen in public three to four times, and that had been when they’d first met. He felt like a vile man, but surely she had plans with other men and the like.

However, he did find it odd that when he randomly showed up, she was always just getting in from a day at work. And who wanted to go out, just after they got off work?

Sitting in his little shadowed corner spot in the main room of the clubhouse that only a few knew about, he had been able to listen to a lot of conversations that hadn’t been meant to be heard. They had caught government spies, rats, even drug deals from cast-out members.

“So, I have to ask. Have either of you ever been with Heathen? I mean, the man is a walking, talking sexy fucking beast. Since I’ve been here, he hasn’t even tried to be with me,” he heard one of the newer girls, Jenny, something, or another, ask.

“No. We talk about that sometimes. He used to be with a lot of the girls, but about two years or so ago, he stopped. He doesn’t bring women here. But we all know that when he goes somewhere and comes back, he’s not so dark and moody anymore.” That was Laura. She had been with the club the longest.

She made a great club girl. She wasn’t needy with the brothers and she didn’t try to enforce her dominance on any one man.

There was one club girl who had been getting on his last fucking nerve—Whitney.

Too many times he would walk out of his room and see her standing there waiting for him.

Too many times she had tried to touch him. He had bit her head off more times than he could count. What would it take for her to back the fuck off, he wondered. Then a thought occurred to him, but he smashed that shit down quick.

He didn’t want to settle down. He didn’t want an ole’ lady. He was fine living his life the way he was.

So what if he had been able to get hard for only one woman in the past three fucking years?

Fuck him but he had tried.

And besides, the way the smile always seemed to light up on June’s face when she saw him, that was enough for him.

“Any time we go to a rally, no one tries to ride with him. Well, except Whitney, but he tore her a new one for even trying,” that new girl commented.

It was then that he heard Lilliana, Powers’ ole’ lady, get into them. “Look, it might be in your best interest to leave Heathen alone.”

“Come on, Lil . . .”

Heathen sat there as he imagined her throwing her hand up and stopping their conversation.

“There is no ‘come on, Lil’ about it. None. Leave Heathen fucking be, or you will be dealing with me.” That statement had worked.

Anytime Lil spoke, everyone fucking listened, and that was the way of their world.

“Alright, Lil.” The others grumbled their responses to her.

“Be glad Heathen didn’t hear this fucking shit,” he heard Lil mumble to someone, and then he saw Powers nod to him from where he stood at Lil’s back.

Fucking A.

It was the rumbling of pipes that alerted all of the members inside the clubhouse.

They didn’t have anyone coming by.

Heathen came out of his spot and heard a shocked gasp from the group of women who had been running their mouths just a bit ago.

He flanked Powers, so that no matter what faced them outside, his body would take the brunt of whatever as he stormed through the main room and out of the big, carved-up oak door.

And the sight before him had his blood boiling over.

They had rescued a Dove last week. Seemed either someone who the woman knew or someone from their organization had snarked some shit.

Powers asked, looking bored, “Who the fuck are you?” We all knew who they were—it wasn’t as if we hadn’t done our research on the girl who needed our help.

The look on the man’s face dropped, only slightly.

“My name is Stan Stinkley.” The man looked down his nose at us.

We knew who the man was, but hearing him say his name aloud had half the men fucking laughed outright.

“Like I said before, who the fuck are you?” Powers drawled out.

The man sputtered, “Quit playing games with me, son. You won’t win.”

Powers no longer stood there looking bored. No, he looked madder than hell. “Call me ‘son’ again, and I’ll shove my foot down your god damn throat,” he growled out.

The moment Heathen crossed his arms in front of his chest, Skinner, one of his brothers and his closest friend, came up beside him and crossed his scarred-up arms.

It was then that the man’s face visibly whitened. Yeah, there it was.

“Where is my wife?” Stan bellowed out, and it sounded like he was speaking through his nose.

“No idea,” Powers stated as he leaned against one of the brick pavers that had been built to help keep the roof stable.

“So, you’re going to go that route. Is that it?” Stan all but sneered.

“Look, man, I got no clue who the hell you are or who the hell you’re looking for.” Powers even yawned.

“I see.” It was then that that man turned and got back in his car. As the other two cars loaded up, they all backed out of the front courtyard and screeched their tires as they went.

“Place a call and move her now,” Powers murmured softly to Cam.

While they didn’t have to deal with this shit often, they at least had contingency plans in place.

It was half an hour later when Gage said that he found the leak. It wasn’t one of the men on their end. No, the damn woman thought it would be a good idea to call her hairdresser and let her know that she wouldn’t be returning so that she didn’t lose her as a stylist.

Little did the woman know, her hair stylist was sleeping with her husband and she was his mistress.

Cam had already moved the woman and put the fear of god into her. She needed to hear that and more. Because of stupid shit, they had to be careful. Some women had been placed in worse situations than she had it. And they listened to a T. It was why they had such a high success rate.

If the woman pulled another stunt like the one she just did, then she would be on her own and they would forever mark her name down to not help. It wasn’t a list you ever wanted to be placed on.

So far, they only had five people on that list, and they had been doing this for over fifteen years.

Grabbing a beer, he started to make his way out back.

“Heathen.” He heard her. Fucking Whitney hadn’t listened to Lil.

The moment she brought her hand up to his forearm, he snapped, “Don’t.”

Then she froze mid-step.

“Heathen, come on,” she tried.

“If you have to be told one more motherfucking time to leave me the fuck alone, you are out.” He snarled as he looked down at her.

Then he saw her eyes widen in fear. Point fucking made.

As he made his way from her and out to the courtyard, he heard his name again. “Heathen.”

“Laura.” He nodded as she came through the door.

Just like before, as soon as he made his way to the courtyard, the familiar hooded figure joined him.

If he had a scar as badass as Skinner’s, he’d wear that motherfucker proudly. But for the silent man, he hid himself. They were the same height, but Skinner was a few pounds heavier than Heathen.

“Hitting the gym tomorrow?” Their gym was in a converted garage behind the main garage they used to service vehicles. When Powers had gutted the entire place and remodeled it, he had made sure the men had a place to work out.

Their gym equipment looked like it belonged in Rocky for as old and rickety as it was, but it worked better than all of those high-ass machines. Giant ass tires and weights and rope, what more did you need?

Skinner tapped twice on the arm of the chair he had set down on as Heathen had pulled over another one for his feet.

With Skinner, it was one tap for ‘no’ and two taps for ‘yes’.

The usual Wednesday crowd was there. They had music playing from the sound system and the fire was raging in the fire pit.

A lot of the club girls were on the makeshift dance floor with a few of the members.

Sitting there with his boots up on another chair, he made sure the party was raging and no problems were looking to arise.

The encounter earlier had his beast, which was usually leashed, wanting to rise out of his skin and tear everything apart.

Then, he glanced over and Powers and Lil. Tonight, they had been all over each other, which wasn’t something new.

He could have that.

That kind of passion.

That comfortable silence, where everything that was wrong in the world seemed right.

It was only thirty minutes away. Shit had gone down in the past couple of weeks and he hadn’t had her in a month and a half. Would she be at home?

Would she be with someone else, seeing as he hadn’t been back?

Taking the chance that she had deep feelings for him too, and that neither one of them could be bothered to explain, he downed his beer, rose from the chairs he had commandeered, and nodded at Cam, his VP.

Heathen said dully, “I’m out for the night.”

“You good?” They did this same routine every couple of weeks. Well, he should say every four weeks or so.

“Yeah. Will be.” Just as soon as her touch calmed the very depth of a beast that laid inside of him.

All of him.