Biker’s Collar: Property of Scrap (Rebel Barbarians MC #6)

Chapter 15 – Quin

Fifteen

Quin

M y husband, Tanner Hollingsworth, runs the Hollingsworth branch of the club with an iron fist. When we met, he kept the club business to himself, mostly focusing his attention on discovering the identity of Avery... Our daughter.

Well, now she's our daughter. Legally. Biologically, she's Tanner's half sister. His father apparently slept with a teenager affiliated with the Midnight SS biker gang and Avery was the result of that relationship. Her mother disappeared after Deborah Hollingsworth told her to get gone and never come back. She might be with the SS bikers or she might be dead. Tanner thinks she’s in Canada and won’t be coming back.

“My mother terrifies people.”

He’s not wrong about that. Since the whole business with Avery, Tanner just grunts answers in the direction of the club and turns his attention back to us. Which I appreciate but… The club needs him. They need us. When I didn’t have a soul in the world who gave a crap about me, the club stood up for me. They buried the dark secrets of my past without even knowing me.

Tanner doesn't want to be involved in this particular sticky situation, but honestly... if the tall and strapping 6'5" man doesn't solve the problem, who will? Someone has to get shit done. Tanner wants me out of trouble because I'm pregnant, but he also refuses to leave me alone right now.

He insists that it's not because he doesn't trust me -- it's my best friend Juliette that's the problem. Never mind that her husband lets her get involved with club business.

The closer we get to seeing Ruger, the more visibly nervous Tanner gets. Zayna sleeps in the backseat. She has medium-deep ochre skin, what they call “yellow bone” in some parts of the country. Her hair is a mess. I don’t blame her but some of the curls are matted to one side of her head, like when you sleep on natural hair without tying it up. She has a pretty face though. Like… Meagan Good levels of pretty with naturally large features, but a wider nose with upturned nostrils.

Tanner calls her “our latest rescue” which feels like a rude comment, especially since we didn’t rescue her, exactly. Deacon Hollingsworth, Tanner’s cousin, has his hands full with the women that the Rebel Barbarians rescued from Las Vegas.

I don’t know what Zayna will think of all this when she wakes up – or even where she came from. Deacon seems to think she has a wealthy background because she “used a big word on him”, but there is a big difference between graduating high school and being a millionaire. We won’t know until she wakes up and even then… I didn’t exactly put my business on blast with the club the second I met them.

Deacon has other club business to attend to, so he can’t help this woman with no identification papers and a traumatic past get on her feet. Other club members volunteered to handle the rest of the women, and Oske has full responsibility for the Indian girls, who all have families who have been searching for them.

Tanner doesn’t seem to mind helping Zayna out, although I worry he might get fed up with club business eventually and leave her on her own.

Glancing back at her, she just looks… normal. Light-skinned. Spaced out. Ugh. I can’t imagine what she’s been through. I feel bad that we're taking her on this errand, but we don't have a choice until we get to Juliette's. At least she's getting some rest. Deacon seems to think she’ll be a problem, but she’s been polite so far. I like her.

Tanner glances at her in the rearview mirror and his jaw moves back and forth uncomfortably. He hates everything about this situation. Tanner prefers the parts of club business that lead to immediate financial reward.

Family drama and personal drama just reminds him of growing up with a serial cheater for a father. I put my hand on my husband's thigh, offering him comfort. Support. The love he gave me when he heard that I killed my stepbrother.

He looks over at me, still tense.

"You're relaxed," he grunts. "You know he's been keeping her tied up like a dog. She's about to have a baby."

I glance over my shoulder to make sure his terrifying statement doesn't snap Zayna out of her rest. She stays asleep.

"I know," I respond calmly. I have several reasons for staying calm right now, honestly.

To be honest, from everything I've heard about Darlene in Oske's group chat, she's a Neo-Nazi and Ruger is pretty racist.

I'm not too bothered with the ethics of what goes on between Ruger and Darlene. I want to make sure Avery is safe and if Tanner doesn't get involved, Avery's safety gets left up to... I don't even know. Wyatt Shaw? No offense, but Tanner needs to handle this.

"You don't sound worried," Tanner says.

"You're with me. Why would I worry?"

"Because Ruger is a racist nutjob."

You know it's bad when your white Texan boyfriend with questionable beliefs of his own calls someone racist.

"Exactly. Someone needs to keep him in line," I tell Tanner.

"And why should that be me and not Gideon Blackwood?"

"Tamiya told me her husband thinks he can talk to ghosts."

Tanner shrugs and mutters, "He has some evidence."

"I think you're the better option for handling Ruger."

"Yeah?" Tanner grunts. "And what about her? What are we going to do with her if she flips out and tries to run away."

"She won't. You worry too much."

Tanner looks over at me briefly. "Only because I want you safe, sugar plum."

"I'm fine."

"Let's hope so..."

It's a longer way out than I remembered to Oske's trailer and my entire body is cramped up by the time we get to the dirt road. The truck going over all the bumps wakes Zayna up. She makes a couple confused grunts before she mutters, "Hey."

"Hey," I tell her. "We won't be long on this club business and I think we can stay there overnight."

"You’ll have to sleep on the couch," Tanner says. "But you can get hot food and a good shower."

"You think Ruger has hot food out there?"

"He'd better," Tanner grumbles. "There's nothing out here."

I don't know whose fault he thinks that is... We're on the reservation. It's not like they asked to be here. But I keep my opinions to myself because honestly, I could use some food and now I'm worried about my next meal.

Damn.

We ride along the dirt road for a little while, the bumping making my bladder feel terrible, when I notice a stake rising out of the desert. You can see everything for miles around and there isn’t much of anything on the reservation as my husband points out in the most politically incorrect way possible.

“What is that?” I ask, pointing at the pole.

“I don’t know,” he says, leaning forward a little and squinting. “It’s next to Oske’s trailer though.”

By the time he says that, I see two more large stakes lined up alongside the rest.

“What the fuck is going on…” Tanner drawls. His Texan accent is so sexy. I know now isn’t the right time to think about how hot he is but… there’s something about fear and arousal all mixed up in my brain. It’s his fault, I’m pretty sure.

Zayna reminds us both that she’s awake, nearly causing me to jump out of my skin. “Those look like heads.”

My eyes follow the stakes to the top. I didn’t see heads at first. I didn’t want to see heads. But now that Zayna puts the idea in my head… Every part of me gets tense. I press my feet into the floorboard of the car and grip the sides.

“Tanner. Are those heads?”

“Ruger’s out here. I spoke to him before we headed out.”

Oddly enough, Ruger isn’t my main concern. Ruger had custody of a pregnant woman, who I consider far more likely to end up spiked in the desert than him…

Instead of slowing down, Tanner speeds up. Zayna and I exchange glances in the rearview mirror, but we both sit back in silent terror. We’re both partly at Tanner’s mercy. I trust him not to get us into trouble that we can’t get out of, but that doesn’t make it any less horrifying to see this horror movie shit when we’re virtually alone in the desert.

“Babe? Do you have a gun?” I say as quietly as possible. We’re in a car, so Zayna obviously hears the exchange. But I make an effort to be subtle at least.

“Do you seriously think I would bring you within ten miles of Ruger without a gun? I also have a hand grenade. Just in case.”

“We’re blowing someone up with a hand grenade?” Zayna asks. I don’t know what to make of her tone. It’s a little concerning.

“Not unless necessary. Don’t worry, ma’am. We will protect you with our lives.”

Zayna leans back. I let her excitement over the hand grenade slip from my memory.

There are more terrifying and immediate problems. Tanner gets close enough to Oske’s trailer for us to see everything. Three stakes, at least ten feet tall, and each one with a bloodied, severed head perched at the top. Ruger’s black Ford dually sits exactly where you would expect to find it, parked outside Oske’s trailer with two of his bikes loaded up in the back. Ruger sits on the porch smoking and staring off into space.

Seeing our truck approach doesn’t affect him in the slightest. He just stares ahead, lost in thought. Lost in the throes of insanity. My head feels lighter. I look over at Tanner, trying to ground myself with my husband’s presence. He won’t let this get crazy. I trust him. He gives me a reassuring look, but it’s not enough.

Tanner stops the truck, but I don’t want to move. I’m scared to open the door. There’s going to be a smell and I know it. Tanner looks over at me to make sure I’m okay. But neither of us have time to sit for a moment because Zayna opens the truck door and springs herself out.

Shit.

Ruger rises and throws his cigarette into the dirt.

Once she opens the truck door, my worst fears materialize and I smell death over every square inch of Oske’s property.

“What the fuck is wrong with that Blackwood boy?” Tanner mutters.

I wish I had answers for that. I really do.