Page 27 of Hidden Desires (Bikers of Mayhem #2)

BLADE

S taring into the bottom of the glass, Blade wondered if it was a metaphor for his life. All the joyous liquid had been drained from it. Now all that was left was a sad, empty glass… much like his life.

He had lost everything. His family, his friends, and even the one person he could see himself spending the rest of his life with.

Feeling as empty as his glass, Blade slowly lowered it from his lips and placed it down on the sticky bar before him.

“Another?” the burly bartender asked from the other side of the bar.

Blade nodded.

He had stopped using words almost two hours ago. What was the point? There was no one there who cared to listen.

The bartender appeared before him and filled her up to the rim once again.

That was one of the nice things about dive bars. The booze was cheap, and the bartenders didn’t waste their time trying to measure out the perfect amount of alcohol for each glass.

The perfect amount was full and flowing down his gullet.

Blade lifted his glass and stared at the amber liquid once again. He wasn’t sure how many that was. How many dead soldiers had he swallowed since walking into the bar?

Don’t forget the two beers you had when you checked into the motel across the street.

Fuck that voice.

He hated that voice. It was always trying to ruin his fun by reminding him of the harsh realities of his life.

He was alone and worthless, and not worthy enough for love or happiness.

What was he going to do next?

He could travel further East? Perhaps join a crew out in Jersey or Miami.

Fuck Miami. That state was becoming way too crazy for his liking.

Perhaps West? Maybe California or San Diego?

There were biker gangs and clubs out there. Perhaps one of them might take him in.

That was if Marcus didn’t blacklist him from all the biker gangs and clubs across the West Coast. Joining another gang might be fun. He enjoyed the criminal element and violence that came with gangster life.

A club, on the other hand, was more legitimate. Did he really have what it took to join an organized club that hosted social events and ride-alongs?

No. He enjoyed the criminal life too much to go legitimate. He loved that people feared and respected him whenever he walked into a room. He loved the excitement and thrill of throwing blades at someone’s head when they were shooting back at you for a drug deal gone south.

Yes. That was the biker life that he wanted.

Marcus was probably on the phone with all the other crews in the area, talking shit about him, and telling everyone that he could not be trusted. He was an asshole and a betrayer, and no crew should take him in.

No. Marcus wasn’t like that. He would never do something so cruel, especially to someone who had once been his friend.

Marcus was pissed at him because he fucked his little brother. Clear and simple.

Yeah, that and the fact that you betrayed his trust by breaking the bro code—Thou shalt not blow a load in thy best friend’s brother’s gay ass.

Or something along those lines.

Blade didn’t blame Marcus for feeling betrayed. He was just looking out for his little bro, and he should have ignored his feelings for Ace.

Blade took another sip.

Next to his hand, his cell phone buzzed on the bar.

Marcus’s name flashed across the screen.

He didn’t need Marcus coming down and beating his ass again.

Blade ignored the call, sending it straight to voicemail.

After Blade had his ass handed to him—in front of all his brothers and even Ace—he had hopped on his bike and headed West. He didn’t have a destination in mind. It was mostly just a way to get as far away from Marcus and his shame as fast as possible.

After about an hour of riding, he stopped into the first half-decent motel he found and booked a room for the night.

Part of him was having trouble leaving Ace, part of him just really wanted a drink.

Nothing numbs one’s pain and sorrow like whiskey and Jack. His two new best friends.

He wished he were drunk.

He had come into the bar intending to get shit-faced and then crawl out of the bar at the end of the night, but instead, he had been nursing his drinks. Taking sips here and there, making them all last for hours at a time.

Part of him wondered if the reason he didn’t want to get shit-faced was because of Ace. What if he needed him? What if he called him? He wanted to be able to ride just in case the smiling twink reached out and asked him to come.

Yeah, like that would ever happen. There was still Marcus to contend with. The guy was probably standing in front of the door, making sure his brother stayed inside.

Still, just sitting in the bar, taking random drinks, seemed to help quiet his brain.

Blade took another drink.

“Now, there is a man who looks like he has just had his heart ripped out of his chest,” a voice said beside him.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as a rough-looking man sat down on the stool next to him.

Blade ignored him.

“Oof, must have been a doozy. Judging by that shiner on your cheek and busted lip, I’m guessing either you were caught by the lady's husband, or caught by the dude’s big brother.”

Slowly, Blade turned his head, eyes falling on the scorpion tattoo inked on the man’s left hand.

Glancing up at the stranger, Blade wondered why he mentioned being caught by the dude’s big brother . What did that mean?

“Do I know you, bud?” Blade asked before taking another sip of his whiskey.

At this point, he didn’t care who the guy was or if the man wanted to fight. He was feeling agitated and would happily take out his aggression on any man willing to put up his fists.

“Nah, you don’t know me. I just recognize when a man’s had the shit beaten out of him by a former best friend.”

Okay. Now the man was starting to piss him off.

Blade swung around on his stool and glared at him.

The man wore a dusty old hat that hung low on his head, covering most of his face, except for the crooked grin staring straight ahead.

Judging by his skin, he appeared to be in his mid-fifties if not older.

“Who the hell are you? And what the fuck do you want?”

The man continued to stare at the row of liquor bottles before them as he slowly swirled the amber liquid in the glass he held.

He reminded Blade of John Wayne or one of those crazy Western cowboys who ended up shooting up the joint just to get someone’s attention.

Blade’s cell rang once again.

This time, Lucas’s name appeared on the screen.

Why was he calling? Lucas never called him.

“You should probably get that,” the stranger next to him suggested, placing his glass down on the bar.

Blade watched the man for a moment, suddenly realizing that this was no chance encounter.

He picked up his phone and accepted the call.

“Yeah?” Blade asked, anger and curiosity battling it out in his belly.

“Blade?” Lucas asked all in a panic. “Is Ace there with you?”

Blade’s stomach dropped.

“No. Why would he be here with me? Isn’t he there with Marcus?”

“No. That’s the thing. I came to his room to check on him after dinner, and the door was open, and his room was trashed. We were hoping that he stormed off and took off after you.”

Blade jumped up from his stool, all in a panic.

“No, he’s not here with me. What do you mean his room was trashed? When did he go missing?”

“We don’t know. Marcus didn’t hear a thing, and the rest of us were out having a bite to eat. This was a couple of hours ago. We were hoping that he stormed off and would return once he had a chance to cool off. But now we are getting worried.”

Blade’s heart was pounding in his ears. Where was Ace?

“Luc? I’m going to try calling Ace’s cell and see if I can find him. I’ll give you a call when I can.”

“Blade… no, I think?—”

Blade didn’t give Luc a chance to finish his sentence. He hung up the phone and turned to glare at the man sitting next to him.

The stool was empty.

Blade glanced around the bar but could not locate the man with the scorpion tattoo.

The sound of a cell phone ringing caught Blade’s attention.

He glanced down at the phone in his hand before quickly realizing that the phone ringing was not his.

Lying on the bar, next to where the mystery man had been sitting, was a cell phone.

The screen lit up “Blocked Call.”

Snatching the phone, Blade quickly answered with an angry snarl.

“Where is he?”

“Good. Now that we have your attention.”

We?

Blade glanced around, but did not notice anyone staring back at him. The bar was mostly empty, save for a few drunk-as-fuck lowlifes who seemed more interested in what was floating in their glasses than anything going on around the bar.

“Who are you? And what did you do with Ace?”

There was heavy breathing on the other end of the phone.

“If you want to get your boyfriend back alive, you’re going to go to the location on the phone.”

The phone pinged. Blade quickly pulled up the location.

It wasn’t a very far drive, and it seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere.

Blade put the phone back to his ear.

“Oh, and if it wasn’t obvious, come alone. Don’t even bother trying to give your buddies a heads-up. If we see anyone else approach, this pretty Latino isn’t going to look so pretty.”

Anger flared through his system.

“You so much as touch a hair on his head, and I’ll skin you alive.”

He could almost see the man on the other end smiling.

“There’s that wicked temper I like to see. It’s nice to know that you still have a pair of balls attached to your junk, and it’s not all pussy lips and sparkly glitter.”

Pussy lips? Sparkly glitter?

It was in that moment that he realized who he was talking to.

“I’m going to split you from gut to sternum,” Blade growled.

“See you in twenty.”

The phone went dead.

Blade grabbed a fifty out of his jeans and tossed it onto the bar before storming out.

He needed to save his boy.