Teller (Tarnished Souls MC Book 4) Read online

  The closer I get, the clearer the scene unfolding in front of me becomes. There isn’t just one person beside Teller’s bike, there are three. I am outnumbered, yet the fear from that is overridden by the terror I feel when I recognize one of the silhouettes. Slasher’s smooth movements, the way his body easily transitions from one task to the other, can’t be mimicked. It’s my nightmare come true; he’s found me.

  When his head turns in my direction, I know I need to move my feet, and fast, yet they stay planted to the cement. I can hear my heart beating in my ears, and a feeling of dread starts blanketing over me. The combination makes it impossible to breath. I imagine this is what happens when a hunter comes across a wolf in the woods. Everyone, no matter their age or sex, has a reaction to fear. Mine just happens to be freezing. When confronting a wild animal, that is what most people do. They want the beast to know they are not a threat, but I’m frozen for another reason. Slasher doesn’t think I’m dangerous. In my mind, right now, no matter how ridiculous it is, I’m hoping he hasn’t seen me, and by my lack of movement he won’t notice me at all.

  The first step Slasher takes toward me should be a clear sign that my plan has not worked. There is a voice screaming in my head to abandon this failed strategy, but the muscles in my body still refuse to move. I can do absolutely nothing as he continues to eat up the distance between us with a primal look upon his face. Our eyes stay locked onto one another’s until I feel an all-consuming aura at my side. Just like I knew it would, Teller’s presence overpowers Slasher’s. It’s like the demons they both possess know their rightful pecking order, and Teller’s is the higher anarchy.

  With the slightest touch of his finger to my chin, the spell Slasher has cast over my body instantly breaks. When I turn my gaze towards Teller’s, looking into his blue eyes, I’m finally able to breathe again. Without saying a word, he gestures for me to get behind him, and I find that both my mind and body are quick to obey his orders.

  “SHE’S MINE!” Slasher roars out, causing me to grasp the sides of Teller’s vest in order for me to stay on my feet. The harshness of Slasher’s voice is threatening to bring back the vivid memories that seem more like reality, and if I allow myself to go back to that place I won’t escape it a second time.

  “He’ll kill you,” I hear an unfamiliar voice say. I know he’s referring to the overgrown biker standing guard in front of me because Teller’s muscles tighten in repose to the allegation. It’s like he is looking forward to taking on two men at once.

  It seems like it takes hours before Teller shrugs from my hold and turns around to look at me. I can’t look past his large frame, but I know there is no way he would turn his back to his enemy which means Slasher and his men are long gone. Taking a tentative step back, his eyes continue to hold mine captive. I remember a time not too long ago when he was consoling me after we found those computer monitors. Now, like the flip of a switch, he looks at me with disdain. If there was ever a question of him placing some of the blame on me for what happened to Saint it has just been answered.

  Seconds tick by as we continue to stare at each other until Teller abruptly turns around and starts walking toward his bike, leaving me to watch his retreating back while trying to get my trembling muscles back under control. When I finally have the stability to follow him I immediately regret it. I fall to my knees because the contents of my stomach are threatening to projectile up. I gape at the scene in front of me. There is a naked woman sitting beside the front tire of Teller’s bike. Her body is covered with wounds that are bubbling with small dots of red, and her eyes are glazed over. By all accounts she looks dead, but I’m fully aware that her body is alive, it’s just her mind that is gone.

  Arriving back at the compound, I quickly make my way to my room, trying my hardest to avoid any questions about Ashley. At first glance, you would never have noticed she was Allison’s twin sister. Her hair has been dyed red, her blue eyes have been covered to look green, and the tiny holes on her body make it almost impossible to concentrate on anything else. Your eyes automatically want to trail over the design in her skin, amazed that someone could be cruel enough to inflict this amount of pain on someone.

  A sense a relief floods my system when I’m able to make it into my room without being stopped. Sammy’s eyes jump in the direction I’m standing, panic flashing in them before she registers I’m not a threat. In her arms lies a tiny bundle of perfection, also known as Kaeper. Walking forward I lean down to give him a kiss on the top of his head and breathe in his scent at the same time. He helps me to center myself. Knowing the world is still capable of creating such miracles makes it easier to breath when I feel the walls start to tumble down around me.

  “Why are you so dirty?” Sammy asks, making a point to stare at my filthy sweatpants and sweater. They are not the most flattering pieces of clothing, but that’s the point. No man is going to give me a second glance as long as I continue to hide in these potato sack clothes I choose to wear.

  “No questions,” I reply.

  Sammy, Rebecca, and Mia have come to expect my short responses. They’ve learned to cope with my lack of conversation skills. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to them, it’s just I rarely have anything to say. By talking, you distract yourself from what is going on around you. Growing up where I did, I had to learn to never get distracted.

  “Alright,” she says, “but you are going to have to sit and listen to my voice because I haven’t talked to an adult all day.”

  “I’m only seventeen,” I remind her.

  “Yeah, but you’re an old soul. You’re way older than me mentally.”

  I don’t bother reminding her of all the life lessons that forced me to grow up before I was ready. Slasher wasn’t the only bad man in my dad’s club. Don’t get me wrong, he is an evil like never before, but my dad wasn’t exactly winning a father of the year medal. I think he convinced himself he would have more time to make up for all the things he put me through. It wasn’t until he figured out Slasher wanted his life that he started to act like my father. He was obviously trying to make up for the past, but it was already too late.

  “Did you know that you burn more calories sleeping than you do watching television.”

  I know where this conversation is going, and I find that I can’t stop myself from reminding Sammy of what everyone else already knows.

  “You’re not fat. You just had a baby,” I say to her.

  “Chewing gum burns eleven calories per hour. Maybe I should start running around the compound and chewing gum all day.”

  “Maybe,” I mumble.

  “I was thinking I would I ask Mia to watch Kaeper while Hammer takes me to visit Saint. Do you think she’d be up to it?”

  I nod my head before walking around the room to gather some clothes. I need a shower and the sadness that clouds Sammy’s grey eyes when she mentions Saint makes me uncomfortable. I don’t do well with other people’s emotions. I find it awkward to comfort them, and unfortunately, the first man Sammy was capable of talking to has been shot fighting a war we wedged. It doesn’t take much for Sammy to open up to you if her instincts tell her you are trustworthy, and Saint was the first man here to prove his worth.

  “I never told you this, but Saint reminds me of my foster brother. That is why we instantly clicked. I miss Drake, and Saint made it easier to bare the weight of not contacting my old foster family.”

  I knew Sammy’s closeness with the Tarnished Souls Enforcer was nothing more than a friendship. She may not be as closed off as I am, but the look in her eyes lets men know she isn’t looking to date anyone anytime soon.

  “I’ll shut up now and let you take your shower. Just remember that I am here if you want to talk about what happened tonight.”

  A genuine smile pulls at my lips upon hearing her offer. I consider Sammy my family, and the idea that I have someone who cares about me just as much is heartwarming, even if I can’t show it.

  Teller

  I feel absol
utely nothing. There is no emotion in me when I think about the woman I found bloodied and beaten beside my bike nearly three weeks ago. Should I feel sympathy for her? How about annoyance from having to help her? The time it took me to aid that woman was precious minutes I needed to plan my attack on Slasher. Had Scarlett not been there, I probably would have given the girl my phone and left it up to her to make the phone call necessary for her survival, but I need Scarlett to trust me enough to use her. Showing her just how heartless I am is not a part of the strategy.

  Sitting in my room, looking at the wall that is shared with the back of the bar, I listen through the tiny holes I drilled through the sheetrock. I strategically placed them in spots no one would notice. There are three in a perfect row, hidden behind a line of old whiskey bottles that were placed on the shelf for decoration only. That shit is too nasty to drink. About five feet up toward the celling are four more holes. I had placed them there when the lighting was horrible in the main room, but now that the men installed a new light they may find them. I don’t care if they do, as long as I get the information I need before. Ever since Saint was shot, I can’t shake this feeling I’ve had. Call it criminal intuition, but my gut is telling me that there is a mole in our club.

  That’s why I also placed holes in my other two walls. I have the advantage of the bathroom being to my right, the bar at my back, and an empty bedroom to my left. Someone is bound to say something that will lead me toward the infiltrator. I just have to be patient and continue to hide in the shadows until that time comes.

  Looking at the glowing red numbers on my clock, I see that it is now Friday, which means some of the men will be up later than usual. Taking off my boots, trying to keep from making too much noise, I stretch out on my queen-sized bed. Intertwining my fingers together placing my conjoined hands behind my head, using them as a makeshift pillow, I prepare myself for the long hours of listening ahead.

  “Give me anything that will burn going down,” I hear Torch, our club’s sergeant at arms, mumble. I can faintly hear the sound of Dak, the prospect bartender, sliding a glass across the wooden bar. Tonight, like the many last, I can’t help but be thankful for all the abuse I suffered at the hands of Roberto. Being a young kid that was constantly scared has prepared me for this stakeout. I’m such a keen listener because it was the difference between life and death growing up.

  “I’ll have what he’s having,” Taz, my club’s vice president, states. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he finishes, while the sound of glass rubbing against wood can be faintly heard.

  “Is it me, or is this club becoming more of a shit show every time we close our eyes?”

  “It’s not just you, brother. I feel it too, especially on days like today.”

  “Dominic showing up unannounced doesn’t sit well with me,” Taz states. “He may have claimed to want peace amongst our men, but I’m not buying his act. We need to get someone to watch him.”

  “Who?” Torch grumbles. “Our men are stretched too thin as it is.”

  “Irish and Hammer are going to have to take shifts.”

  “You think you’re going to get Irish to leave Ashley after what happened today. I’m not even going to ask if you would leave Serenity seeing as I already know the answer, so you better think long and hard before you expect that of Irish.”

  “You’re right,” Taz rasps out, obviously having taken another shot of the strong liquid he keeps ordering. “We need Teller, but he’s far too gone at this point.”

  “We need a miracle brother. Tarnished Souls has too many enemies and not enough soldiers.”

  I hear the disappointment in Taz’s voice when he speaks of my situation with the club. I know these men think I am lost in my own mind about Saint, but they are wrong. This game Slasher is playing is like chess. It’s one on one, not a group activity. I will continue on the path I have chosen to ruin the Blacktop Sinners, and my club will see what a true threat I am when they watch their enemies go up in flames.

  I follow my target all the way to his house. Unlike most bikers, he doesn’t live in his club’s compound. I wonder if he thought it would be safer. I know the bastard hasn’t noticed me following him for the past two days. I’m starting to second guess his ability to be a criminal. He’s not at all smart, and definitely not sneaky enough.

  The old brick home is just on the outskirts of Brady. There’s a smaller house in the distance, so, in order to keep this private, I’ll need to question him in the center of the home. The sounds of his screams will have more walls to travel through just in case his distant neighbors find themselves outside at the wrong time.

  I wait for him to get to the front door before rushing him from behind and placing my dagger at the base of his spine. I will have to stab a hole through his cut, particularly the glowing red eye of the grim reaper, before making contact with his skin.

  “Tate?” The sound of his scared voice does nothing but further confirm my suspicions. Our bartender, Dak, is working for the enemy. I laid awake for hours after Taz and Torch had drunk themselves into a good night’s sleep. Turns out, my paranoia was accurate. When Dak had thought everyone was asleep, just like a rat waiting to sneak around in the dark, he made a phone call to one of Slasher’s men. I took it all in as he described everything that was going on in the clubhouse and how Dominic had done what he was told.

  I instruct him to move by adding pressure to my blade. He stumbles to open the door but eventually gets the locking mechanism to work. Chucking him through the opening, I watch as his arms shoot out to protect his face from the tiled entryway.

  “Teller,” he murmurs when he turns around to see the person that has easily overpowered him. Placing my booted foot on the door, I slam it shut to give our voices that extra barrier they will be needing.

  “Bro…” he starts to say, but the cold look I send his way lets him know he is not to call me that.

  “Teller, let me explain.”

  The dumb bastard doesn’t even try to deny his wrong doings. He knows there is only one reason a member of our club would be at his door holding a blade to his back, and he wants to explain why he betrayed us. I slowly start to take off the leather jacket I’m wearing, not wanting to get any of his tainted blood on it. I usually hang it on one of the coat hooks strategically placed on the wall beside me.

  “I had no choice, Teller. I was in debt. I owe some bad people a lot of money and I’m not a sworn-in member yet, so I don’t get paid enough.”

  Flicking my wrist, I motion for him to get up with the tip of my blade. I want him to lead me to the middle of his house so I can kill him without getting caught. Having no choice but to obey, he rises to his feet. This is the part I find most amusing about dead men walking. They will do anything to have just a few more minutes of life. Deep down they know their efforts are futile, yet they proceed to listen like a teenager that’s been arrested for the first time. It’s too bad that I can’t trust him because he would have made it easier for my plan to take form.

  “I can be a double agent,” he rushes to get out in a panic as I slowly force him to walk. “I’ll only tell Slasher what you want me to tell him, I promise, man. Don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”

  Usually, this would be when my brother would start asking questions, allowing them to think there is still a chance at survival, but Saint isn’t here. No matter how much I hate to talk, I have no choice if I want to get the revenge I desperately seek.

  “Tell me everything you know,” I state.

  I can tell the sound of my voice has scared him far more than the cold steel in my hands, and the knowledge pisses me off. I don’t need a piece of shit like him looking at me like I’m the monster. I haven’t been disloyal to the men I call my brothers.

  “I only talk to Tate. I’ve never actually talked to Slasher. He knows you’ve claimed Scarlett and that’s why he has a nurse at the rehab clinic taking photos of Saint. They are planning something with Dominic, something big, but I was never to
ld what.”

  My brother likes to pray for the men he is about to kill. He thinks it makes the sin of what he is doing less evil. Saint often joked that any extra points he can gain with the big guy might make a difference one day. I don’t know if being shot and fading into a coma is what he had in mind while he was practicing this belief, but I like to think that maybe his tallies will soon be added up in his favor. By taking the tip of my blade and placing it to my forehead I prepare to give a silent prayer in the name of my brother.

  “You don’t have to do this. Please, Teller…” I let his words fade into the air as I place the cold steel to my lower chest, then my left and right shoulder, before ending the cross motion on my pursed lips. Giving my dagger the kiss of death, I rush the man that betrayed me and my club, ending his life with a series of blows.

  Scarlett

  It’s in the early morning hours when I finally hear Teller’s bike pull into the compound. I can always tell his motorcycle from the others because the bike’s exhaust has a distinct roar, much like its owner’s voice. I usually go with him to see Saint, mainly because being with him makes me feel safer, and he’s never objected to me tagging along.

  Tiptoeing to the door, being extra careful not to wake up Kaeper or Sammy, I get into the hallway just as he is about to walk into the spare bathroom. A lot of the rooms down this long hall have joining bathrooms, but there are a handful that don’t. I can’t be sure, but I believe some of the girls have seen one in Teller’s room while cleaning up around the clubhouse. It’s a chore that Buck has pushed onto us females, and while some women would want to complain about equality, like Mia, I don’t have a problem with cleaning. It gives me something to think about other than Slasher searching for me on a daily basis.