Page 50 of Lady Sings the Blues

14.

Beau

She mounts my bike with her whole self pressed against my back, trusting me with her life as we start to ride. She’s trusting me with her life, but I’m trusting her with mine. There really ain’t much else in the world to fuck a man up other than a woman. Elise Manning don’t know the power she holds. I got my brothers in the club and my woman on the back of my bike. Nothing else I need in life. Few wants, sure, but as for needs, this is it. Without either of them, shit, I can’t even imagine that life.

Even before she was mine, I knew she would be. I knew I’d make it happen. A few hiccups along the way, but now she is.

The drive goes faster than I want it to. Wind smacking my face, the rumble and vibration of the bike underneath me, pushin’ the machine to its limits through every mountain pass from the time we crossed over the Kentucky boarder, about two hours ago. We’re forty minutes away from home when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

“Get that for me?” I yell to Elise.

She slides her hand down to reach inside my front jean pocket, stroking me a few times teasingly as she grabs for the damn thing. “It’s Chaos.” She calls back.

“Answer it.”

She does. “You’ve reached sex god Beau Hollister’s phone. Love slave Elise Manning speaking.” The silly woman giggles.

Silence.

“O-oh. Okay. He needs to speak with you. Pull over.”

This can’t be good. As I signal, I cut to the shoulder of the highway, Elise hands me the cell.

“Brother,” I say.

“Boss, you gotta get home,now,” is all he says and hangs up.

While we’d holed up in our little sex den for the night, the brothers had continued on through to deliver Elise’s belonging to my house.

“Fuck.”

“What?” Elise asks, squeezing her reassurance against me, and she don’t even know she’s doing it.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “But I got a feelin’ it’s bad. Hold on tight, baby girl.” Handing her back my phone I burn out of there with such speed both our heads snap back. Her grip tightens around my waist with one arm as she shoves the cell back inside my pocket lacking her earlier playfulness, then brings her second arm around to really hold tight.

With her fingers cuttin’ a death grip into my skin and her face buried against the back of my cut, we take the forty minutes in just under twenty.

My house has cops and the fire department and my brothers swarming the property—in the drive, on the porch, rounding from the back. Neighbors stand around watching the scene unfold.

Tommy and Chaos approach us at the same time.

“Elise.” Tommy greets her sharply with a curt nod.

“What the fuck?” I ask, completely dumbfounded.

“You might want to keep her back.” Chaos warns.

At the same time Elise yells, “Oh my god!” and jumps off the back of my bike, running for the porch before any of us realize she’s doing it. The scene has us that fucked up.

When I reach her, she’s shaking, staring not at the broken out window or inside the open door leading to the fuckin’ firebombed living room. No, she’s caught up in the words spray painted across the front of the house.The whore or you.The signature looks like an anarchy symbol, but with an H in the circle instead of the A.

Bedlam Hordes.

“What the hell do the Horde want with Elise?” Tommy asks me.

Hell if I know.

Over the past few years that Houdini character has held a grudge against me personally, causin’ problems. Fucker always escapes just before. We’ve caught several of his brothers, made them pay for his antics, but none have ever broken. We still don’t know the pussy’s identity. And heisa pussy making his brothers take his hits.

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