Page 85 of Pumpkin
Pumpkin hatedthat he wasn’t taking Dosia over to his house for the first time himself. He wanted to see her face and watch as she took in what would soon beherhome. Instead, she and the other ol’ ladies took the club kids out under the guise of playing in The Pentagon’s backyard. The ol’ ladies weren’t fooled but they knew better than to ask questions.
Jenna stayed, Steel’s arm planted firmly around her waist. Pumpkin got the distinct impression that he wasn’t going to be letting go of his wife anytime soon. Even though Jenna had been at the station every day to see him, it wasn’t the same. Carlos had opened the cell doors so Steel and Jenna could be together without bars between them, but they hadn’t been allowed to leave. Not with a federal warrant for his arrest and pending charges hanging over his head like a guillotine blade.
Pumpkin wondered if Jenna would be joining them in Church too. There was still a lot they had to talk about. The last time someone unexpected had shown up at the gate, it had been Ollie’s mother. Steel hadn’t let her enter. But Bulldog had left, and since they were all waiting in the clubhouse, Pumpkin could only assume he was escorting whoever was at the gate in. Otherwise, the kids could have stayed.
But why have Aaron, Bree, and Ollie stay? Yes, they were old enough to understand a lot of adult things, but they were still teens. Aaron was seventeen and a junior in high school while Bree and Ollie were sixteen and sophomores. There was a lot that the teens didn’t know about the club, and a lot they likely guessed. None of the ol’ ladies or kids knew about the secret hatch below the floorboards in the clubhouse. The cellar that had once housed the brewery owner’s more priceless possessions was now the club’s dirty secret.
A place where blood and pain were in regular supply.
When Bree was twelve, she’d been kidnapped and held by a pedophile for two-plus years. By a miracle and happenstance, she was alive and thriving today. She often said that being adopted by Angel and Cage was the best thing to ever happen to her. But what would she say if she knew that her mother was keeping her rapist below the very floor her wheelchair was currently rolling on? That Angel paid Nathan Moore a visit every day where she tortured the man, paying him back for every pain he’d ever inflicted on her daughter? Would she look at her Uncle Scar differently if she knew that he’d hunted Nathan Moore down like he was nothing more than game on a hunting range and had him delivered to the club?
Aaron’s biological mother was also being held by the club. Her situation was very different than Nathan Moore’s, though. Aaron had pleaded for his mother’s life after she’d had him kidnapped. Unlike Cage who accepted his son’s sexuality without hesitation and with all the love the man possessed in his large body, Aaron’s mother could not. She orchestrated Aaron’s kidnapping by her pastor with the goal of putting him in a conversion camp. When Bree and Ollie had tried to stop Aaron from being taken, they’d been kidnapped as well.
Steel had come up with a completely different prison for her. She was forced to remain in one of the clubhouse apartments with gay porn playing non-stop on a television in the room. She was fed three meals a day, allowed to shower, and even have her Bible. But if she tried to leave, she would be killed. Aaron had tried to visit her only once last Christmas, and it had not gone well. She’d still begged him to reconsider his sexuality, to consider his soul, and as far as Pumpkin knew, Aaron had never been back. Every once in a while, Keys changed the channel on the television to a different porn station.
Pumpkin wondered if Aaron knew that the last time Cage had visited his one-time lover she’d begged him to end her life, saying that she didn’t have the courage to step out of the room herself but she didn’t have the energy to continue on like this. Regardless of her crimes, Cage refused to kill a woman. Angel, though, had volunteered if Cage wanted her to. Last Pumpkin had heard, Cage was going to give it another month before he made a decision.
If Ollie’s mom had persisted in her harassment of either Ollie or Jenna, there was no doubt in Pumpkin’s mind she would have ended up in the cellar. But she’d been killed first. By whom, they still had no idea.
But it still didn’t explain who was at the gate or why Bulldog had instructed the teens to stay.
Nearly fifteen minutes after the ol’ ladies and club kids left, Bulldog reentered the clubhouse. Behind him was a young man, maybe nineteen or twenty. While he looked familiar, Pumpkin didn’t place him right away.
The last time any of them had seen Sam Carome, he’d had spiky, dark hair with green tips and a lot of jewelry in his face. Tall and lanky, he hadn’t had much muscle to him. Now, he had a military buzz cut with no green in his hair, no studs in his ears or a nose ring, and he’d packed on muscle. He seemed taller too, though that might just be how differently he was holding himself. No longer a teen fighting to survive, but now a man with purpose.
Carome was in his dress blues, taking his white hat off his head as soon as he entered the building behind Bulldog.
It must have taken the others an equal amount of time to recognize their visitor. Like Pumpkin, most of the club brothers stiffened several seconds after Bulldog and Carome entered.
A good number of them moved to place themselves between Carome and Bree.
Just over a year ago, the Black Pythons had attacked Angel’s tattoo shop with the goal of sending a message to Steel. As the club’s sole female member, the Black Pythons had perceived Angel to be their weak link. The Black Pythons had literally died for that miscalculation.
Bree had gone to work with Angel that day, and it was due to her bravery and perseverance that both of them had made it out unscathed. Angel had nearly been raped but had managed to fight off one of her attackers, killing him by snapping his neck with her thighs. Bree had shot the other one.
But it hadn’t just been the two Black Python members in the tattooshop that day. They’d had a prospect with them. A young, gangly punk named Sam Carome who had been born into the club. Through some digging, Keys had discovered that Carome’s mom had been one of the club girls, and the Black Pythons did not treat their women as theVia Daemoniahad treated their Honeys. Like Dixie Gilbert, the woman had likely been brutalized on more than one occasion and had died of an overdose when Carome had been a child. None of the club members had claimed him as their kid, though DNA had proven him to be the former VP, Viper’s, son, and the nephew of the President, King.
Angel crossed her arms over her chest. “You have a lot of nerve showing your face here again.”
Carome was the only person who had been taken captive by the club, held in the cellar, and had walked out alive. At seventeen, and clearly under the influence of a less than stellar club, Angel had chosen to allow Carome the opportunity to make something of his life. A literal second chance. A join the military or die chance.
And he had a very clear directive toneverreturn.
Carome bowed his head at her. The action wasn’t submissive, but it certainly was remorseful. “I know, ma’am. And I apologize for just showing up like this. I didn’t have anyone’s contact information, and what I have to say isn’t something that should be said over the phone.”
Angel lifted her chin. While her stance was defensive, Cage’s behind her was supportive. Both of them were standing between Carome and Bree, though she was in no danger. There were far too many of her uncles present, along with her parents, for that matter. Other than Scar,allher uncles were here. And it was probably a good thing Scar wasn’t or Carome might not be walking out of here a second time. Scar did not give second chances, especially when it came to his nieces and nephews.
When Angel said nothing, Carome cleared his throat. “I came to apologize, ma’am. The past six months, I’ve been stationed in Camp Ballus, getting training to be a field medic, but I am being deployed overseas in a few days and I knew I couldn’t leave without getting this off my chest.”
“Don’t call me ‘ma’am’,” Angel snapped. “And it’s not me you should be apologizing to.”
Color coated Carome’s cheeks. “I’m aware of that too. I?—”
“Wait.” Aaron stepped forward. “Are you the asshole who attacked Angel and my sister in the tattoo shop? The one they let live?”
Carome’s chin raised and his back straightened. “I am.”
The words barely left his mouth before Aaron’s fist went flying into his chin. Despite that Aaron had a lot of muscle on Carome, the insignia on his chest stated that he’d achieved more than basic training in the past year. Yet as Aaron whaled on him, Carome did nothing to defend himself. It was Bulldog who stepped forward to stop Aaron.
