It Ain't Me, Babe
Page 51
Too f**kin’ close.
Mae began shaking her head, tears filling her eyes, gripping too tight to my waist, refusing to let me go.
Jumping off my bike, I lifted her up and planted her feet on the asphalt instructing her exactly what to tell Ky. “Y-you g-got all that?” I asked when I’d finished speaking. She nodded and I jumped back on my bike. She still didn’t move.
“Mae! D-do it!”
“Styx—” she cried, stepping forward.
“B-BABE! GO!”
Stumbling away, she begged, “Come back to me… please…” and ran full force into the clubhouse.
FUCK!
Roaring away with a screech on the empty road, I pursued the Chevy. I was sure I caught sight of the f**ker a few miles down the road. Dropping back, I killed my headlights, smirking when the skinheads slowed, thinking they got away good and free. They had no idea of the f**kin’ shitstorm about to blow their way.
Forty-five minutes later, the Chevy turned onto a dark dirt road, leading to a rundown cattle ranch. The skinheads in black balaclavas got out and entered the old barn. The f**kers were all together, easy targets, but Ky still hadn’t called for the location.
Parking my Harley off the side of the road, I checked my cell.
Fuck, it was dead.
SHIT!
I knew I should’ve waited for the brothers. As much as I knew I could handle shit myself, I weren’t sure I’d come out of this alive. But I had no choice. The f**kers could move again and we’d be back to square one.
I needed to protect Mae. Couldn’t have her taking a slug in the skull for me too.
Mind made up, I pulled out my handgun from the waistband of my jeans, checked it was loaded and drew two Uzi submachine guns from my Harley’s saddlebags. Now armed, I ran across the field to the side of the barn, ducking down beside an old rusty Dodge Coronet RT. I glanced through the loose panels of wood. The Nazis were sitting around on tables, the ass**les deep in conversation, debriefing no doubt, planning their next step. No weapons in sight, but the f**kers would be packing heat for sure.
There were nine Neo’s in total. ’Bout the right size for a small Klan out here in Austin—but it was eight more than my posse of one.
Gripping an Uzi in each hand, I took a deep breath and ran round to the front entrance. With a kick of the shitty gate, the skinheads were right in my line of fire, shock clear on their ugly f**kin’ faces.
Only one thought went through my head as I opened fire, a spray of bullets ripping through their bodies like butter; chunks of brain plastering the wooden walls of the barn and blood gushing outta ’em like geysers…
… Heil Hitler, motherfuckers!
Chapter Seventeen
Mae
I could actually hear my heartbeat thunder in my ears as I crashed through the doors of the clubhouse. I made a beeline for the lounge where really loud music blasted out of massive speakers. I threw open the door and immediately searched the room.
No Ky!
Flame was sat on a chair, a sharp blade in his hands, slicing down his left arm, smiling as he looked at the dripping blood. Running in his direction, I paused before him, but he was too entranced. Grimacing at what he was doing, I sucked in a breath, trying to ignore the tinny smell of copper.
“Flame!”
A spurt of blood gushed from his wrist onto my jacket and his head rolled back with an ecstatic hiss from his mouth.
I pushed at his shoulders. “FLAME!”
The brother snapped open his coal-black eyes and, gripping my wrists, pulled me forward, his teeth bared and covered in a watery sheen of blood. Recognition soon flooded his features and he instantly let go of my wrists.
“Mae?” he half asked, half stated, his black eyes softening a fraction.
As I rubbed my sore wrists, I shouted, “Where is Ky?”
Flame got to his feet, no shirt on his completely inked chest. I immediately removed my gaze from his bare torso with its scars—long, red, angry, raised—and burn marks, hundreds of them edged in scar tissue.
My goodness. What had happened to Flame?
“His room’s third on the right.”
Nodding, I again averted my gaze from his self-mutilation and took off for the room. I slapped frantically on the beaten dark wood door but Ky’s music was too loud.
Too impatient to politely wait for answer, I shouldered the door and instantly froze as I stumbled into the room. Naked, Ky was on his back, Tiffany riding his erect length. Jules, all her body exposed, had her privates over Ky’s mouth as she sucked on Tiffany’s br**sts. It was a sinful den of hedonism and not one of them took the slightest bit of notice as I stood there in disbelief. The music and their noises, the slapping and sucking sounds of their joining, had drowned out the crash of the door.
“Ky!” I tried to scream over the cacophony, but he did not stop.
Spotting the stereo beside the bed, I ran over, almost tripping on an array of peculiar-looking plastic toys. Some were vibrating and rotating as they twitched along the wooden floor.
Making sure not to stare at the writhing figures on the bed, I began hitting the stereo and after several slaps, managed to mute the volume. As if in a daze, Tiffany looked up first, yet she did not stop in her joining.
“Mae?” she confirmed, breathlessly.
Obviously hearing my name, Ky unseated Jules’ spread legs from across his mouth, pushing her to one side. With a yelp, the blonde almost toppled off the bed. Rising to his elbows, Ky wiped her juices off his lips with his arm.
Concern immediately washed across his face; Ky asked, “Mae, what’s up?”
Ky pushed against Tiffany’s shoulders, halting her grinding, her back hitting the iron railings on the foot of the bed. His hard manhood came into view, so I turned away, speaking over my shoulder.
“It is Styx. He has gone after them on his own. Ky, I am terrified. There were so many of them!” I rushed out, my voice betraying my panic.
Ky’s blood drained from his face. He jumped out of bed and dressed rapidly in his jeans, black shirt, and leather cut.
“Who’s he gone after, Mae? Explain, now!”
He hopped as he tugged on his boots. I followed him out to the hallway. He accelerated hard as his fists pounded on the doors of the brothers’ private rooms. He screamed, “Business! Move out now!”
Turning to face me once again, he said, “Mae, talk!”
Viking, AK and Smiler shot out of their rooms rubbing at their bloodshot eyes.
Mae began shaking her head, tears filling her eyes, gripping too tight to my waist, refusing to let me go.
Jumping off my bike, I lifted her up and planted her feet on the asphalt instructing her exactly what to tell Ky. “Y-you g-got all that?” I asked when I’d finished speaking. She nodded and I jumped back on my bike. She still didn’t move.
“Mae! D-do it!”
“Styx—” she cried, stepping forward.
“B-BABE! GO!”
Stumbling away, she begged, “Come back to me… please…” and ran full force into the clubhouse.
FUCK!
Roaring away with a screech on the empty road, I pursued the Chevy. I was sure I caught sight of the f**ker a few miles down the road. Dropping back, I killed my headlights, smirking when the skinheads slowed, thinking they got away good and free. They had no idea of the f**kin’ shitstorm about to blow their way.
Forty-five minutes later, the Chevy turned onto a dark dirt road, leading to a rundown cattle ranch. The skinheads in black balaclavas got out and entered the old barn. The f**kers were all together, easy targets, but Ky still hadn’t called for the location.
Parking my Harley off the side of the road, I checked my cell.
Fuck, it was dead.
SHIT!
I knew I should’ve waited for the brothers. As much as I knew I could handle shit myself, I weren’t sure I’d come out of this alive. But I had no choice. The f**kers could move again and we’d be back to square one.
I needed to protect Mae. Couldn’t have her taking a slug in the skull for me too.
Mind made up, I pulled out my handgun from the waistband of my jeans, checked it was loaded and drew two Uzi submachine guns from my Harley’s saddlebags. Now armed, I ran across the field to the side of the barn, ducking down beside an old rusty Dodge Coronet RT. I glanced through the loose panels of wood. The Nazis were sitting around on tables, the ass**les deep in conversation, debriefing no doubt, planning their next step. No weapons in sight, but the f**kers would be packing heat for sure.
There were nine Neo’s in total. ’Bout the right size for a small Klan out here in Austin—but it was eight more than my posse of one.
Gripping an Uzi in each hand, I took a deep breath and ran round to the front entrance. With a kick of the shitty gate, the skinheads were right in my line of fire, shock clear on their ugly f**kin’ faces.
Only one thought went through my head as I opened fire, a spray of bullets ripping through their bodies like butter; chunks of brain plastering the wooden walls of the barn and blood gushing outta ’em like geysers…
… Heil Hitler, motherfuckers!
Chapter Seventeen
Mae
I could actually hear my heartbeat thunder in my ears as I crashed through the doors of the clubhouse. I made a beeline for the lounge where really loud music blasted out of massive speakers. I threw open the door and immediately searched the room.
No Ky!
Flame was sat on a chair, a sharp blade in his hands, slicing down his left arm, smiling as he looked at the dripping blood. Running in his direction, I paused before him, but he was too entranced. Grimacing at what he was doing, I sucked in a breath, trying to ignore the tinny smell of copper.
“Flame!”
A spurt of blood gushed from his wrist onto my jacket and his head rolled back with an ecstatic hiss from his mouth.
I pushed at his shoulders. “FLAME!”
The brother snapped open his coal-black eyes and, gripping my wrists, pulled me forward, his teeth bared and covered in a watery sheen of blood. Recognition soon flooded his features and he instantly let go of my wrists.
“Mae?” he half asked, half stated, his black eyes softening a fraction.
As I rubbed my sore wrists, I shouted, “Where is Ky?”
Flame got to his feet, no shirt on his completely inked chest. I immediately removed my gaze from his bare torso with its scars—long, red, angry, raised—and burn marks, hundreds of them edged in scar tissue.
My goodness. What had happened to Flame?
“His room’s third on the right.”
Nodding, I again averted my gaze from his self-mutilation and took off for the room. I slapped frantically on the beaten dark wood door but Ky’s music was too loud.
Too impatient to politely wait for answer, I shouldered the door and instantly froze as I stumbled into the room. Naked, Ky was on his back, Tiffany riding his erect length. Jules, all her body exposed, had her privates over Ky’s mouth as she sucked on Tiffany’s br**sts. It was a sinful den of hedonism and not one of them took the slightest bit of notice as I stood there in disbelief. The music and their noises, the slapping and sucking sounds of their joining, had drowned out the crash of the door.
“Ky!” I tried to scream over the cacophony, but he did not stop.
Spotting the stereo beside the bed, I ran over, almost tripping on an array of peculiar-looking plastic toys. Some were vibrating and rotating as they twitched along the wooden floor.
Making sure not to stare at the writhing figures on the bed, I began hitting the stereo and after several slaps, managed to mute the volume. As if in a daze, Tiffany looked up first, yet she did not stop in her joining.
“Mae?” she confirmed, breathlessly.
Obviously hearing my name, Ky unseated Jules’ spread legs from across his mouth, pushing her to one side. With a yelp, the blonde almost toppled off the bed. Rising to his elbows, Ky wiped her juices off his lips with his arm.
Concern immediately washed across his face; Ky asked, “Mae, what’s up?”
Ky pushed against Tiffany’s shoulders, halting her grinding, her back hitting the iron railings on the foot of the bed. His hard manhood came into view, so I turned away, speaking over my shoulder.
“It is Styx. He has gone after them on his own. Ky, I am terrified. There were so many of them!” I rushed out, my voice betraying my panic.
Ky’s blood drained from his face. He jumped out of bed and dressed rapidly in his jeans, black shirt, and leather cut.
“Who’s he gone after, Mae? Explain, now!”
He hopped as he tugged on his boots. I followed him out to the hallway. He accelerated hard as his fists pounded on the doors of the brothers’ private rooms. He screamed, “Business! Move out now!”
Turning to face me once again, he said, “Mae, talk!”
Viking, AK and Smiler shot out of their rooms rubbing at their bloodshot eyes.
