Beast Out Of Hell Read online

Slicer snarled low in his throat and stormed off as the Hell Hounds cheered and whistled their approval.

  Zeke crouched next to Reaper, pinned the patch on his cut and whispered, "Ain't no way out, little brother. Best remember that."

  Fuck!

  Chapter 5

  Broglie

  Granny's Ranch

  Right now

  The discordant snarl of motorcycle engines spiked through Lucy's head, making her flinch.

  "Fuck, we should've been gone already." Reaper snatched his black leather vest from the arm of the couch.

  Lucy noted the V. President patch fastened to his vest with a safety pin.

  Crap! There's more to Reaper's story than he's letting on.

  Granny's dog pack answered the ruckus with rapid-fire barks and a prolonged, heart-stopping howl from the husky.

  "Quiet," Granny spoke evenly. "Settle."

  As if nothing were amiss, all six dogs immediately fell silent and sat down, alert but calm. They looked at Granny, not at the door.

  The lack of dog barks underscored the ugly and harsh cacophony of the motorcycles.

  "Damn loud." Lucy raised her voice over the clamor.

  "Suck, squeeze, bang and blow." Reaper pawed under the couch for his shoes. "Four-stroke engine. Only one sound I like better than that." He glanced up at Jamie who pushed herself deeper into the couch, wrapping her arms around her legs.

  "Fat Boy times two." Still on his knees, Reaper listened carefully, one eye closed. "Slicer and Dicer."

  "And they're fat?" Granny asked, looking disoriented by the engines' thunder.

  Reaper laughed nervously. "Fat Boy is the model of the bikes. Good bikes. Bad dudes."

  "Fat Boys. Hogs. Hell Hounds." Granny tsked.

  "Reaper." Xochi jutted her chin toward him. "Dumbass more like."

  Lucy nodded her agreement and rolled her shoulders back.

  Reaper said nothing. He slipped his feet into to his grey tennis shoes.

  A biker who doesn't bother with boots? What's the world coming to?

  Reaper peered around the curtain and out the window. "Just Slicer and Dicer."

  "Where's Prancer and Vixen?" Xochi quipped.

  Reaper cracked a quick smile.

  "Why don't you hang back?" Lucy told Reaper, calculating. "And Granny, let's have you head to the back."

  "This is my house, my land." The old lady clutched the handle of her cane tightly with one hand. She rested her other hand on the .44 Magnum still holstered at her side. "Those bastards want something, they'll have to go through me."

  Jamie cleared her throat. "Granny, let's put the dogs in the back." She shot Lucy a worried look, trying to hide her concern from Granny. "Stray bullet. Last thing we'd want..."

  "Fine, fine," Granny grumped and started a quick hobble toward the bedrooms. She clicked her tongue.

  The dogs followed.

  "That buys you a few minutes." Jamie raised her white-blond eyebrows at Lucy. "Fix it, Werewolf Whisperer."

  The roar of the bikes cut off, and for a moment there was blissful silence.

  Lucy heard the clicking of dog claws on the wood floor along with the rapid thump of Granny's cane.

  Please stay back there.

  Reaper, finally dressed but unarmed, flung open the front door before Lucy could stop him. The door bounced against the wall, leaving a doorknob bruise in the wood paneling.

  "Watch it, chavalo," Xochi said sharply. "Show some respect."

  Without acknowledging her, Reaper stepped onto the porch.

  Lucy followed closely behind him. The Berretta hidden under her T-shirt dug into the small of her back. Her fingers picked at the buckles of her snug leather arm bracers.

  Damn these are tight...Gotta cut back on the pull-ups.

  She briefly glanced back at Xochitl who had positioned herself in the center of the open door, shotgun stashed behind the frame.

  Lucy returned her gaze to the driveway and studied the two strangers and their bikes.

  Both rode muscular, vintage Harleys; the Hell Hound wolf skull and flaming chain ornamented the glistening black gas tanks.

  Gotta admit. That is cool.

  Unlike their bikes, the two men were not much to look at — hunched and grubby, in torn-up jeans and dingy tees covered by their Hell Hound vests. Drab greasy hair hung past their shoulders, and prison ink meandered over their exposed skin from neck to fingertips.

  Hell Hounds, my ass. Low-rent scumbags, dumb as dirt and dangerous. Know your kind from my cop days.

  "Pendejo twins," Xochitl hissed her disdain.

  Lucy noted that neither man was wearing a helmet, German military style or any other kind. The California Vehicle Code rolled through Lucy's head automatically.

  Division 12, Chapter 5, Article 7, Section 27803...Not that the law gives a shit anymore.

  "Gotcha," one of the men sneered and got off his bike. "Zeke wants you back at camp. You snuck out before you heard the best part. Time to go, kid. Unless you want Zeke to come get you."

  "Get the hell out of here, assholes!" Reaper shouted.

  "That a direct order from our VP?" the larger of the two men squawked, his voice constricted like the high-pitched squeal of air forced out of a balloon. "Or the sniveling yelp of a scared little runt?"

  Human form but that's the freaking Werebeast.

  "Slicer," Reaper addressed his Hell Hound brother, confirming what Lucy already knew. "These are civvies, man. Just leave them alone."

  "Not a chance." Slicer also scooted off his bike, casually dragging his hand over his crotch. "You've been holding out on us, Reaper."

  "Ugh," Xochitl made a disgusted sound.

  Slicer sniffed the air. "Real hot bitches. Smell is making me hard."

  "Sit your ass down," Lucy spat out.

  Instantly, Slicer plopped down on the driveway as if his legs had been cut out from under him.

  Dicer rocked back on his heels. "What the hell, bro?"

  Lucy heard a shotgun being racked behind her.

  "Want me to shoot both of them, or just the one?" Xochi cooed.

  "This is bullshit!" Reaper whined from where he too had dropped to the ground.

  Lucy gave him a blasé shrug. "Werewolf Whisperer, remember. Now sit pretty."

  Xochi let out a barbed laugh.

  Reaper's eyes flashed bright amber.

  "So, here's the deal." Lucy slowly aimed her Beretta at Dicer's head. "Reaper boy is out. Out of the club. Effective right now. Go tell your big dog. And don't come back here. Or we will hunt you down and kill you. Got it, dickheads?"

  She felt the power of the moment surge through her. She was in control, and it felt good.

  "Yeah, cabrones," Xochi cut in. "You tell your Zeke that Lucy Lowell can make him do anything she wants, so he better stay far, far away." She lingered on each word, obviously enjoying herself too. "These are our friends. We protect them." She stepped up right next to Lucy and pointed her shotgun from Slicer to Dicer. "Got it?"

  Slicer howled with rage.

  "Shut up," Lucy barked out. The Werebeast man whimpered once and fell silent.

  Dicer seemed to recover quickly, putting his thoughts together faster than Lucy imagined he'd be able to. "So, the famous Werewolf Whisperer. You control Weres..."

  She nodded indulgently.

  "But you can't control people," he snapped back. "You can shoot me, but you can't control me."

  Lucy shifted uncomfortably.

  "We'll leave all right," Dicer said carefully. "But unless you plan on living here, you can't protect this place or this piece of shit forever." He pointed to Reaper. "Leaving the club. That costs. He knows what it costs."

  "¡Híjole!" Xochi blew out.

  "You can't have him." Jamie's quivering voice came from the door.

  Lucy shot a quick look over her shoulder.

  Jamie clutched Granny's long-barreled Smith & Wesson in both hands.
r />   Dicer let out a low whistle. "That is one fine—"

  "Shut up!" Lucy and Xochi yelled out in unison.

  Reaper stomped his foot down on the stairs in frustration.

  "Reaper," Lucy said quickly. "Free!"

  The boy bounced up and put himself in front of Jamie, in front of the barrel. "Babe, go back in the house."

  The girl shook her blond head fiercely like she was trying to shake water out of her ears.

  "Please." Reaper looked at Lucy and Xochi, desperate. "Make her go in!"

  Lucy opened her mouth to tell the girl to go inside, but Xochi gave her a slow blink.

  Shit. She's right. I can't just order everybody around.

  "Looks like you have some personal issues to deal with," Dicer said, far calmer than Lucy thought he should be. "Tell you what. Club tradition. If Reaper wants out, he's got to leave clean. No more Hell Hound tat. Zeke's gonna want to take care of that himself. He's got a right to that. It's our law."

  "What the hell does that mean?" Xochitl asked, shotgun still shouldered and ready.

  "He'll skin the ink right off him," Dicer said. "That's how we do it."

  Lucy's stomach turned, and Xochi looked queasy.

  "No, Reaper," Jamie begged, voice and hands shaking. "I won't let you."

  "Pussy-whipped dipshit." Dicer pointed to Jamie. "Bet that honey is sweet."

  Reaper spun on him, taking the stairs with three long strides. "Don't push me, cocksucker."

  Dicer snorted and spat a yellowish-brown glob on the ground in front of Reaper's shoes. "We'll go back to Zeke, tough guy. Tell him about this place...and her."

  "He'll want...the female," Slicer growled out with a lot of effort.

  Damn. Why is he still talking?

  "Shut up," Lucy directed the command at Slicer, deeply annoyed.

  "Just come with us, Reaper," Dicer said, attempting to sound brotherly but failing. "We won't blow the whistle on your old lady. Zeke will never have to know shit. But you've got to man up. Face him. Do the right thing."

  "That's bullcrap," Jamie shrilled. "You can't—"

  "It's my choice," Reaper said and turned around to face her. "I love you, but stay out of this."

  "Like hell I will." Like a thing possessed, Jamie jumped forward and shot off three rounds, waving Granny's gun wildly.

  Slicer screamed in pain. Blood sprayed from his shoulder.

  Lucy barked out, "Run!" at the same moment as Xochitl cracked Jamie in the head with her Remington. Lucy whipped her head from Jamie back to Reaper.

  Slicer stormed away from the house down the driveway, bleeding and howling.

  Reaper pressed past him like a man on fire, running as if his life depended on it.

  Lucy wanted to stomp her feet and pull her own hair out. "No! No! No! No! No!"

  The command that was supposed to have stopped the bloodshed had driven Reaper out of their sight.

  Heading straight for Zeke, no doubt!

  A veritable stream of swearwords sprang from Xochitl's mouth.

  "Jamie!" Granny cried out from the door. She flung herself down on the ground with no regard for her own safety and covered Jamie with her body. "Don’t hurt her! Don't hurt her!"

  "This did not just happen!" Lucy felt heat rush through her limbs and an angry red haze veiled her sight.

  Dicer laughed like a hyena. "You are so screwed!" He swung on his bike and fled after his brothers before Lucy could decide what to do with him.

  "I am gonna shoot every last fucking one of them!" Lucy screamed. She felt anger flooding out of her pores like hot sweat.

  Xochi had scrambled to Granny's side and helped position Jamie's head in Granny's lap.

  "She'll be okay," Xochi whispered, looking pale. "She's a Were. They're strong. She'll be okay."

  Lucy crouched down and crawled over to them. "Granny..."

  "You really don't know what you're doing." The old lady stroked Jamie's temple. A deep purple bruise was already forming on the side of the girl's face.

  "Werewolf Whisperer! Ha!" Granny caught her breath. "You are so full of yourself, Lucy Lowell." She cut an angry look at Xochitl. "And you—"

  Xochi flinched.

  "You girls are so irresponsible!"

  The deep disappointment in the old lady's voice hurt Lucy.

  It's like with Mama. I can't handle that tone...

  "What can I do?" Lucy asked quietly.

  "Stop being so arrogant and lazy," Granny said with a sad smile. "You can't go by black and white rules. Human, Werebeast, Feral, Hound. Save this one. Shoot that one."

  "Says the woman with the big gun." Lucy pointed to Clint. The gun lay were Jamie had dropped it.

  "That gun is to protect me and mine. I know who I am. Do you know who you are?" Granny looked from Lucy to Xochitl. "Do you?"

  Xochitl scrambled up, reaching out to help Granny back on her feet.

  "Maybe you have a point, but you haven't seen what we've seen," Xochi said, sounding exhausted. "Your girl just went on a shooting rampage. That's not okay."

  Granny gave them a stoic look and snatched up the cane Xochi handed her. "It wouldn't have come to that—"

  "If what?" Xochitl interrupted. "If you'd been honest with us? Biker Werebeasts are not in the manual! We're just making this up as we go."

  "It shows." Granny's voice was heavy with grief.

  "Let's get Jamie inside," Lucy said, at a loss. She shoved her arms under Jamie's unconscious form and groaned as she lifted.

  For a little thing, she weighs a ton...Werebones.

  "We'll talk it out," Xochi told Granny, who'd scooped up her gun. "Figure out the best thing to do. We'll listen, Granny. Promise. But you have to listen too."

  "Ugh!" Lucy heaved Jamie over her shoulder.

  "Stop whining, Luce." Xochi held open the door. "Granny's gonna think you're a wuss."

  If that's the worst she thinks of me, I'm good.

  As they made their way back inside, the delicious aroma of caramel apple pie ready in the oven wafted from the kitchen.

  After leaning her shotgun in the corner by the front door, Xochi helped Lucy maneuver Jamie onto the couch.

  "I'll start more coffee," Granny said, a little stiffly.

  "Make it a large pot," Lucy and Xochi called out together.

  Chapter 6

  REAPER

  Muir Woods

  Hell Hound Camp

  4 hours ago

  Reaper sat hunched over on the tree stump and stared at a pile of cold ash lumped in the center of the fire pit. He felt exhausted, drained — dazed by the sudden change in his Pack status. His Hell Hound cut hung heavy on his shoulders, and with each passing minute, its collar seemed to tighten, choking him like a noose around his neck. He tugged at the vest and glimpsed the V. President patch pinned to the leather.

  I don't want this.

  All around Reaper, the Hell Hounds laughed and drank and waited eagerly for Zeke to reveal his master plan for saving the Weres and getting rich.

  "I heard it makes you hard for hours." Maggot fumbled the blue inhaler between his fingers. "Looks like a fat stick."

  "I got your fat stick right here!" Grub snorted and grabbed his crotch.

  "Nothing's gonna help that limp twig between your legs." Two Toes snickered and snatched the inhaler from Maggot.

  "Prick!" Grub shoved Two Toes off the cooler he'd been sitting on. "But damn, I ain't got none since before L.A."

  "¡Órale!" Poncho said as he launched his hunting knife through the air and into a nearby tree trunk.

  "I say we do a pussy run to The Dog," Maggot suggested.

  "Yeah!" Grub jumped to his feet. "Maybe our new VP can hook us up with some Broglie bitches!"

  Reaper nearly gagged on his swig of beer. He glared across the dead fire at Grub and Maggot. Anger and disgust boiled in his gut. He wanted to smash his bottle upside their ugly faces.

  Sick bastards. I know
how you get off.

  Reaper had seen the scraggly pair in action. Seen how Grub and Maggot hunted. Seen their type.

  Small. Young. Full of fear.

  Knew their sadistic tastes.

  Blowtorches and branding irons.

  And he hated them for it.

  They fit right in with that Russian's Pack…just like Zeke…

  "Our new VP smells like…" Two Toes leaned toward Reaper and took an exaggerated whiff. "Strawberry pussy!"

  Jamie.

  "Where'd ya get strawberry pussy?" Maggot asked excitedly.

  Reaper tasted sour bile in the back of his throat. He rolled the beer bottle between his hands, clamping down on his rage.

  I need to protect Jamie.

  "No one leaves," Dicer said and grabbed one of Reaper's beers. "Zeke's orders."

  Reaper glanced over his shoulder at Zeke and Slicer huddled near Zeke's tent. The Hell Hound Alpha spoke quickly and quietly to his angry Packmate, handing him another blue inhaler and a baggie of white powder.

  What's Zeke up to?

  Slicer blew out an irritated huff, but nodded his head.

  Is Zeke gonna lace coke with the Were drug?

  Zeke patted Slicer on the back, then turned around. The Alpha caught Reaper watching, cocked his eyebrow and bared the tips of his fangs.

  Shit! I gotta get outta here.

  Reaper took the last swig of his warm beer and tossed it into the pit. Ash puffed up in a small flakey cloud.

  "I gotta take a piss," he said and stepped around Dicer, heading toward the forest.

  Reaper slipped behind a mammoth redwood and picked up his pace, racing through Muir Woods to get his bike — to get his Jamie.

  One thought tornadoed in his mind…

  Run. Run. Run.

  Reaper's chopper rumbled to a stop under Granny's carport; gravel skidded from the back tire. He kicked the stand down with his heel and dismounted — a flurry of thoughts swirling in his head.

  Get Jamie. Get her stuff. Get some money…Maybe Morey can help with that…Maybe Granny?...No. No time to wait. Zeke's gonna know I'm gone. Need to hurry…Might only have a few hours.

  He rushed into the house, past the living room and into Jamie's bedroom, quickly scanning the richly colored space.

  Blood red and midnight black was the theme — Jamie's theme. Curtains, wallpaper, area rug all blended together to create what Jamie had described as her "gothic cave."