Page 20 of Spooked
“Welcome home!” Sam declares when she turns and spots me. “Come, sit, we’ve got chili and garlic bread ready to go.” She ushers me to a stool at my kitchen counter.
“Do you ever cook here?” Tash asks, as she loads up a plate with rice and smothers it with the amazing-smelling chili. “This kitchen’s a dream, but all the appliances look brand new.”
They would be. Although I’ve actually lived here for a few years, the kitchen was fitted out to cater to the needs of the woman who I’d thought would be my ride or die. Unfortunately, the one I’d found proved to be anything but. While I probably could put something together to feed myself, I’ve been too lazy, preferring to eat what the old ladies cook up in the clubhouse.What would Maeve make of my kitchen?Fuck. Why did that thought come into my head?Maeve doesn’t exist.
Before I answer, I take a forkful of the chili and place it in my mouth. It tastes as good as it smells. Waving my fork in the air, I explain, “Never can be bothered to cook something for myself.”
“Too damn lazy.” Sophie snorts, but softens her words with a wink.
The annoyance at the invasion of my house fades as I eat the delicious food. Watching my brothers’ old ladies clean up after themselves, I realise I’ll be left full and with no kitchen to tidy up.
“How are you feeling?” Becca asks, pulling up another stool to sit opposite me.
My mouth full of meat and rice, I don’t immediately answer. I take a moment to recall the stories about how she, before my time, came here unable to say boo to the proverbial goose, how she’d been schooled from childhood to defer to everyone, and ended up being abused because of the man her parents basically sold her to. Rock had discovered her when he went undercover for the Satan’s Devils. With his support, and that of everyone in the club, she’d found her own voice.
Now I’m looking at a comfortable, assertive woman, and I give her the respect she deserves. Having swallowed my food, I answer truthfully, “Like I’ve been kicked in the head.”
“Crutches are the devil’s invention.” Sophie laughs, pausing to give me a pat on the arm. “I can’t tell you how many times I tripped and fell on my face when I was learning to walk again.”
I appreciate her sympathy, but my case is different. She lost a limb. I’ll one day get mine back in working order. But at least they’re all buying my story, that I knocked myself out having mis-stepped.
“How are the others doing?” I’m fed up with being the topic of conversation.
Sam beams. “Wizard’s going to be home any day now. He’ll be in a wheelchair for a while, but the doctors are predicting a full recovery. Hawk and Throttle are like you, just having to wait a while longer for their bones to mend.” She rests her hand on my shoulder. “Won’t be too long, Hound, before you and your brothers are riding again and heading the club, and Drummer, Peg, Blade and Wraith can go back to being the annoying fuckin’ old guys.”
Sophie almost chokes as she laughs, and I raise my brows.
Sam grins widely. “Yeah, we all know what you call them. Myself, I’d probably say they were pains in the ass.” While Tash almost doubles up laughing, Drummer’s old lady continues, “Tell you what, Hound. Once you’re able to ride, you can race me around Road’s track. I might even give you a chance to beat me.”
Narrowing my eyes, I point a finger at her. “You can try.”
Road, a brother who used to ride with the Tucson brothers, has been in Utah for over two decades now. He used to be a competitive trial bike rider until he was involved in a serious crash. Before that, the club had used his hobby to cover up a multitude of bodies they’d had to get rid of by creating a practice track through the woods and burying the evidenceunderneath. Over the years, the track’s been extended for the original reasons. I wish I’d been there the first time they’d tried it out, as I’ve heard numerous stories about it—each brother riding Road’s trial bike and trying to make the fastest time. All while Road had to watch and grimace, being injured, and just a prospect then, unable to protest. Legend goes that Sam had taken her turn last and had ridden every other rider’s time into dust. She’s kept up the record ever since, but now that she’s issued that challenge, I’m determined to beat her. She might not know it, but she’s given me a goal to aim for.
When they are eventually satisfied that I’m fed and have everything I need to look after myself, the old ladies leave. It’s only when the door closes behind them that all my worries come tumbling back.
What the fuck is going on?My mind says I visited Bullet, showed him the photos I’d taken of the Sullivan House, that Maeve had come to his office, and that I’d taken her back to the house. What happened there still replays in my head in full technicolour. Yet evidence suggests I never left the compound, and lost my footing and collapsed outside of my home, while I clearly remember Maeve disappearing into thin air, and me crashing down the stairs.
Fuck! Maeve disappearing.Of course, my brain is fucked to shit. That couldn’t have happened. My brothers have to be right. It never did.Am I actually going mad?My hands tremble when I hold them in front of me.Why am I so convinced I’ve seen and experienced things that couldn’t ever have happened?All of a sudden,I’m so fucking scared. The doctor’s warnings had wafted over my head when I’d heard them, but what if this is my life from now on? Seeing and hearing things, living stories that are only fiction to everyone else? At risk of passing out?
Fuck it. I lower my head into my hands. Sure, Sam can be confident that Wizard, Throttle and Hawk will soon be fitenough to resume their officer roles. But what if I end up being a liability to the club because of my brain injury? Who’d want someone who couldn’t separate reality from nightmares and dreams?
As it is, I can count myself lucky. For now, the evidence was in my favour. The doctor I’d seen in the hospital had accepted I had fallen and probably banged my head for a second time. If the truth came out that I had a blackout while suffering delusions, I’d no longer be deemed safe to drive, let alone ride. As for those hallucinations? I’d be lucky not to be carted off as a risk to the safety of others.
If I can’t ride, I can’t be part of the club.
I’d rather eat a bullet than be unable to be a Devil.
And if my brain can’t be trusted, maybe that’s the only solution.
CHAPTER TEN
HOUND
After the old ladies have gone, I stay in my house alone. If I went to the clubhouse, I’d be smothered with people watching my every move and questioning my health and the state of my mind. I did invent an imaginary timeline and fictional woman after all. The main problem is that, despite evidence to the contrary, I can’t believe my version isn’t real.Perhaps I’m dreaming now?But rubbing my overfilled stomach, I have to admit that’s as far-fetched as the alternate reality my mind had conjured.
Finally, the hands on the clock tick around sufficiently to warrant me going to bed. I toss and turn for a while before dropping off into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep. I’m woken abruptly, not by a nonexistent vision, but by the insistence of the ringing of my phone, which threatens to vibrate its way off the bedside table. Groaning and turning, I reach over to pick the annoying device up, noting it’s ten a.m.Shit. I’ve overslept. Something I never do, and something else, I suppose, I can put down to my brain injury.
“Hi, Bullet,” I answer, seeing his name on the screen, trying to keep my voice even so as not to betray the anxiety in my head. “What can I do for you?”
