Page 3 of Behemoth

Thank you for taking such good care of my boy, Damien. He hasn't stopped talking about you since he got home from his field trip today. He insisted we make you some cookies and told me to make a lot because you are huge. His words not mine. Anyway, once again, I appreciate you taking time and not making my son feel out of place. For once, he enjoyed himself, and for me that is a win/win. Enjoy the cookies. Damien put in extra chocolate chips, too.

Sincerely,

Grace Sinclair

Holding the card in one hand and the container of cookies in my other, clutched to my chest, I realize no one in my entire life has ever made something just for me. As my brothers watch and wait patiently for me to open the Tupperware, my heart flips a little, as it only took a young boy a short period of time to be able to see beyond my walls and comprehend how lonely I am. Like he can read me or something. Which totally freaks the shit out of me, but I still open the lid, take out two cookies, and shove them in my mouth. Damn, they are delicious being full of chocolate morsels.

I’m not sharing these treats with any of these sons of bitches that’s for sure.

After my long ass forty-eight-hour shift at the firehouse, I carefully drive home. It has been a bitch of a tour. What is wrong with people today? Multiple careless fires were set throughout the last two days. We even lost an elderly man because his fire alarm's batteries were dead. He suffered from so much smoke inhalation; he passed before we could save him. The police were handling the asshole landlord on that one. Hope they throw the book at him.

Even as tired as I am now, I have to get to the clubhouse. Today is Church, and when I'm not on tour and available, I have to show my ass at the table. There’s lots of shit going on in the club right now. I drive down the highway to get home, so I can then just jump right on my custom Harley and get to the club while fighting my spent body, both physically and mentally.

Trying to handle two very different lives for so long is taking a massive toll on me, especially since I used my skills and senses during my tour to help people in their time of need. Switching between the good persona at the firehouse and the socially unacceptable at the club is overwhelming at times, but for some reason I can't choose one or the other. They are both a part of me and in my blood. To top it off, it took a kid and his mom to make me realize I wasn't even living, just goddamn existing. I have allowed my past and fear of the unknown get the upper hand. So many people have survived nightmares in their lives and have scars, physically and emotionally, but continue to move forward and have a pretty good life. I immediately pull to my mind's eye lil’ Damien. What a trooper the kid is.

Before I even pull up to my turn, I’m immediately aware something is off. First, my mind goes dark for a split second, and then the tingling in my neck and shoulders alerts me of danger. Finally, I feel something tighten in my gut as a quick view of the front of my house pops into my mind’s eye. Right there on the driveway are three bikes waiting for me to arrive, and they are not brothers from my club.

When I make my turn, I’m immediately alerted when I see the gates to my property open already. I've been gone forty-eight hours and know I closed the damn gates when I left for work. Reaching into the glove box, I pull out my automatic and lay it on the seat next to me. Someone is somewhere they don't belong.

My alarm system hasn't gone off at the house, which means they aren’t inside, thank Christ. Taking the turn, I already know what I’m gonna see: three bikers. They are not from my club but from the Satan's Flaming Marauders MC. I can see the flames from their kuttes, surrounding the shield with the mask of a marauder and the figure of Satan in the background coming out of the fire.

I ease my cage to the left of them and shut it off. Reaching for my automatic, I get out of the truck; walking around the front of my vehicle, weapon lying on the outside of my thigh. They are waiting for me as soon as I come around. Three of the biggest and ugliest cocksuckers I have ever seen, and that is saying a lot, since I'm one ugly and big motherfucker myself. I stop listening to their thoughts, knowing they are here to warn me about some fuckin’ bullshit.

"Stitch, right, or should I call you Stein? This is gonna be your one and only warning, asshole. Stay away from our brother Wrecker's family. Don't want any excuses, ‘cause we’ve been told to make this a warning only. Shake your dumbass fuckin’ head if you understand.”

Looking from one to the other, and ignoring his asshole comment, I address the one who gave me the warning with a sarcastic smirk.

"Okay, explain to me why you’re trespassing on my property. Who the fuck is Wrecker, and why are ya warning me from his family, you crazy sons of bitches? Are we friends or something? Looking at your kuttes I would say we are definitely not fucking brothers."

The largest dude walks up to me and gives me a shove. Then he reaches in his pocket, pulling out a picture of Damian and a really good-looking woman walking into my firehouse with the Tupperware container in her hands. Fuck, you have to be shitting me. Goddamn it, can't I ever get a break in my life? Just when something starts to feel good, more shit falls on me. Almost fuckin’ feels like I’m cursed or something.

"Hey, didn't know the boy was your brother's kid. He was on a field trip and we had a couple of words, that's it. And as for his ol’ lady, I haven’t seen her or even met her. She dropped some shit at the house when we were out on a call. That's it. So, you wasted your time riding all this way to give me your fucked-up warning. Now that you’ve done what you were told, get the fuck off my property, assholes."

The ugly one closest to me takes a swing, but I already knew he was going to throw it, so I duck and return one to him, utilizing all of my weight behind the punch. He’s knocked out before he hits the ground. Before his brothers can approach me, we hear the roar of bikes and turn. I grin as I see my brothers racing down the dirt road like the crazy jagoffs they are, not even wearing a lid on their heads.

I really don’t need their help, as one of the many senses I’ve been blessed with is having the insight of my opponent’s intentions during a fight and then using that knowledge, along with my strength, for maximum damage. The fun is just beginning, and these three assholes are going to be feeling more pain than they ever have before.

Nice way to start my goddamn day off.

CHAPTER THREE

Francis

As I gaze down at my hands, I watch the blood fly from my broken knuckles. Gingerly, I feel my nose, knowing it’s not broken but is gonna hurt like a bitch for a while. I scan the front yard, making out Chains, Fury, and Bad Dog all leaning against their bikes, watching me kick ass, grinning my way like the crazy fuckin’ lunatics they are.

The three on the ground have gotten the worst of it for sure. Two of the assholes are totally out and the last one is moaning loudly. Before I can do anything, Fury walks over and kicks the downed biker in the head, instantly quieting him. Smiling my way, his grin immediately turns to a frown.

"Damn, Stitch, you are gonna need to get that taken care of, dude. You’re bleeding like a fuckin’ gutted pig for Christ’s sake."

Looking down, I see what he is pointing at. One of the ass-clowns must have pulled a knife when I was fighting his brother, and he fought dirty. I was so into beating the shit out of that asshole, I didn’t even register the warnings in my head of the second prick’s approach—or barely felt it—but looking now, there is a huge gash in my goddamn side. Gonna need stitches or maybe even staples.

Fuck, that means a trip to the hospital and missing Church, which will cost me a bullshit fine. Fuck. I would have Doc fix me up but he’s out of town.

“Son of a bitch, I'm gonna miss Church. Tell Prez what happened, will ya?"

"Stitch, who the fuck do you think sent us here in the first place? Brick knows all of us are gonna probably miss Church, but it’s on his order, so no fine, thank fuck. With that worry out of the goddamn way, let’s get rid of these three jerkoffs and get your ass to the hospital to get fixed up."

As he finishes, I look up and see the club van bouncing down my dirt road. Goddamn it, there is more traffic here today than in the last year. I like my privacy and not many know where I live. Well, that is until today obviously.

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