Hells Angel Read online

  He followed her along the back streets in a circle, and as fast as he ran, she ran even faster. He was badly out of shape and in moments like this, he felt it. Late nights and drunken binges were his savior, they kept the dreams away, but they also played havoc on his body. He hated to admit his hopeless pursuit of peace was killing him.

  He turned the corner, coming back out in front of the dealership, his chest heaving as he tried to suck oxygen into his lungs, and that's when his trail went cold. Shit! He yelled, if only to himself, as he swiveled around, searching for any twinge in his gut. He contemplated on going running back from where he came, but he knew deep down it was useless. Kellah Slater was gone.

  The crime scene boys dusted and photographed the house, collecting anything of interest, which didn't seem to be a bloody lot. And while they processed the images, he combed the streets of Sin Alley, finally finding her amongst the deadbeats in a nightclub called Paradise.

  He hated the sight of her, hated the thought of her. Even though his body betrayed him and reacted in ways he didn't, and could never understand. All he wanted was to get an arrest to stick and end this force he felt inside.

  Her gaze was like broken glass over his very soul as he made his way across to where she sat. Her fingers traced the rim of a glass half-filled with amber. She didn't look up at him, preferring to ignore his looming presence as he stood over her.

  He made his voice loud and clear over the thumping music. "Kellah Slater, you are under arrest for breaking and entering. Anything you say may be recorded and later used as evidence. Do you understand this?"

  She didn't acknowledge that he had spoken, and that was just fine with him, the least interaction with her, the better. He reached out to grab her with one hand, while the other went around his back, unclasping the set of handcuffs he carried. He grabbed her shirt, his fingers careful and light so that he didn't have to touch her as he pulled her up. Still, he couldn't stop the tips of his fingers from grazing across her shoulder.

  The electricity that jumped from her body singed his fingers, even though the touch was only slight. He jerked back in shock, his eyes widening as his heart raced in response. It was then that she looked up, meeting his eyes with hers and smiling.

  Her smile wasn't seductive, or even friendly, but manipulative and threatening just under the surface. He felt bare standing above her, as though she could see his fear lurking beneath the resolve he tried so desperately to hold, and for a moment he’d fought the urge to turn and run.

  Instead he held tighter to the fabric of her shirt, pulling her up from where she sat and placing the handcuffs around her wrists as his face flushed and his anger grew.

  He pushed her harder than he should, but not as hard as he would have liked, ahead of him, expecting her to stumble or maybe even fall. But her steps were as sure as ever as she dawdled her way toward the doors. Gerry Brom stared at them from behind the bar littered with dirty glasses as they walked past, and nodded. At first Darrion thought he nodded at him; a recognition of authority in his own establishment, and he was about to nod back, but as he followed his gaze he saw that it was the bitch in front of him he acknowledged, and that just pissed him off more.

  The ride to the station felt like hours as she tried to psych him out with her constant stare. He knew the evidence was all circumstantial and was based purely on the fact that this was her MO, but to him it was worth a shot, even if it meant he was going to get his arse kicked for it.

  He had spent the last four hours sitting across from her, trying to block out her stare with as many questions as he could fire, hoping that at he would trip her up at some point. He knew what she was. He had known it for a long time now; a spineless thief, one who found her way in this life stealing from others. Praying on the vulnerable like the piece of shit she was. This was a sore point with him, conjuring memories that he didn't need or want. That's why he pushed himself as hard as he did. He wanted her where she belonged, behind bars. He may have succeeded too, that is until his Sergeant entered the Interrogation Room.

  You're a good officer, Darrion, his Sergeant said. Don't let something like this go against you, you deserve a lot more. Let her go mate. No ... No! I'm sorry, mate. It's come down from higher-up. They want her released ... Go home, Darrion. I'll take care of the paperwork. Is that an order? Do you want me to make it one? I can if you want. No? That's what I thought.

  The message had been clear, as clear as the threat of suspension from duties. As much as he hated to watch her walk out of there, he had no choice. Her smug smile caused his ulcer to react, burning him up from the inside, as she walked past him and out the doors to the station. He refused to show any sign of weakness. She would learn to fear him. He would make damn sure of that. So the next time she made a mistake like this, he would be there.

  That was how his night had ended. Stone-walled from the Sergeant and whoever the fuck else, which left him here, sitting in his car outside her apartment and sweating like the bastard he was.

  The flash of sirens screaming their haunting wail flew past, flooding his car with their red and blue hues until they faded away and left him here in silence. He had been the only Detective who really ever worked this end of the city, the others preferring the quieter and nicer parts of Red Valley, only venturing this far south when a call was made. He didn't blame them for not wanting to work here, he wouldn't have wanted to either eleven years ago. But that time was over and this was what his life was now. Street gangs, drug running, prostitution and murders now filled his days and nights.

  Sin Alley filled the black, empty void within him, giving him a never ending stream of arrests and work, earning him the highest arrest record in the history of the squad. But he wasn't here for the glory or the pain that this work carried with it. He had enough pain of his own. He was here for one reason and one reason alone. He was here because so was she.

  The damn summer heat made it difficult to focus and he drummed his fingers softly against the steering wheel, toying with the idea of starting the car again. The temperature hadn't lowered too much from the stifling heat of the day, if anything the humidity quickly made the interior of the car a sauna. If there was something Hunter hated more than wasting his night being railroaded by the higher up into letting her go, it was sitting here in the stinking heat watching her apartment, waiting for her to go back and stop wasting his goddamn time.

  The quiet tap, tap, tap of his fingers filled the stifling compartment, but the sound helped him think and controlled the chaos that swirled within. Messages came down to him from higher up, and this time it was from his Superintendent via his Sergeant.

  It wasn't unusual for arrests to be reviewed by his Sergeant, but as soon as the Super's name was mentioned it became clear to him that there was something about this that smelled rotten, and it wasn't just his goddamn shirt.

  He started the car and flicked up the vents so that they blew on his face, drying the layer of dirt and sweat that coated his body. He had been awake going on eighteen hours. Most of them spent walking the darkened streets of Northside. Trying his best to find where she hidden the bag of stolen items, until he grew blisters on his feet and the muscles in his face ached from clenching his jaw. His only focus was bringing Kellah Slater down and ridding her from his thoughts once and for all.

  He reached for another antacid, throwing the chalky round tablets into his mouth and chewing. He knew what he was doing was wrong. He felt it in his gut, but he couldn't stop himself. She was everything he despised.

  His tireless tirade started just over ten years ago, and he remembered every painful second of those cursed events. He should, it culminated with death of his wife and daughter.

  Chapter 3

  The knife was certainly not the sharpest she had ever felt. Neither was the intelligence behind the eyes that she stared into. She must have only had a couple of hours sleep when she'd been woken with the feel of the knife against her throat. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and she sighe
d with annoyance.

  "Give me your fucking money, bitch!" he screamed at her, spittle flying out between his missing teeth.

  She looked past this disgusting image to the busted door as it sat ajar. The lock had cost her five bucks and the salesman told her it was the best one on the market. Kellah made a mental note to pay this salesman a visit, his house anyway, and hoped he had a nice TV.

  But first things first, she needed to get rid of this idiot. Not get rid of as in dispose of him. Although, now thinking of it, the thought was quite appealing. But, she didn't need anything else for the detective to use against her, and a dead body was definitely something he could use.

  So, she looked back at the idiot with the knife and said calmly, "Listen to me carefully. There is no money here. There is nothing you want. You will stand up, walk out and never step foot into this apartment again."

  He looked around at the apartment now that the obvious was stated - like she said, not the sharpest. He stared down towards her chest, and normally she would have been concerned. But, he wasn't interested in checking out her tits, he was only interested in the orb she wore. It wasn't shiny or gold, but to someone as strung out as he looked anything that resembled a necklace was fair game. "That," he said, pointing the sharp end of the knife at her throat. "Give it to me."

  She couldn't shake her head without bleeding everywhere, and although she would heal just as quickly she couldn't spare the clothes to clean the blood from.

  "You don't want that," she said, her voice icy.

  He licked his lips, almost tasting his next hit, one that he was sure her orb would buy. "Yeah I do. Give it to me."

  "Look at me you fucking moron," she said, allowing just a taste of what she truly was to filter through from her eyes as her amber orb swirled and grew warm against her skin.

  He stared into her eyes and she watched his reaction with just a hint of amusement. Well okay, a bit more than a hint. The first reaction was the dilation of his pupils as he saw her in her true form, and his breath whooshed from his chest at the same time his bladder let go. Its okay, she didn't take it personal. Her looks were not supermodel material by any stretch of the imagination, so when she relaxed her human face and revealed her true form she couldn't help but snigger at his reaction. He screamed, as she knew he would, dropped the knife and lurched for the door. She was about to call out and ask him to shut it behind him, but he was already gone.

  She sighed and closed her eyes, listening to his wails as he ran for his life down the street. Her orb glowed, casting swirling lights against the wall in the darkness and she clutched it to her chest, holding on to what she could of her home.

  It was hard to remember the first time she woke to the screams and wails that always seemed to permeate through the acrid smoke-filled air. As the years grew into centuries, she found that she couldn't remember or want for anything else.

  Hell is not like anyone expects. Well, it wasn't what she expected at least. There was no Hitler or Genghis Khan bellowing out orders to the sea of the tortured and damned. In fact, she had met Hitler once or twice and couldn't see the resemblance to the tyrant that ruled the human world. In Hell he was just another faceless demon who screamed and bled as good as the rest of them. No, he wasn't even in the same league as the Superiors.

  She groaned and rolled over, not wanting to wake fully as she lay on the filthy mattress listening to the sounds of a small bird as it chirped its morning song. Even though outside was still dark, the light, happy song of the bird chilled her, and she just knew she was going to have a shit day.

  The bird squawked then fell silent and Kellah climbed to her feet, walking over to the opened window. There sat the motley feral beast with pale grey feathers sticking out of its mouth, victory reigning in its eyes. Maybe her day wouldn't be so bad after all?

  She ripped the lock from the door and wedged it closed with the old TV cabinet before making her way into the bathroom. The grimy tiles were cold on her feet and the air like ice against her skin, even in the midst of a heat wave, as she peeled off her skin tight blue jeans and black top before stepping into the scalding water. It wasn't long before the pipes shuddered and the hot water failed. But in those moments when the scorching water hit her and the smell of burnt flesh drifted to her senses, she was back home once again.

  The reminiscence was short lived along with the hot water as the now freezing cold water hit her skin and ripped away her hold on her home. She twisted the taps, switching the water off, feeling the pipes reverberate inside the wall as the thumping began from the other side. Her neighbor flat out didn't like her. She shrugged, it seemed a growing trend and, lucky for her, she didn't give a shit.

  She stood to the side of her window, looking out into inky blackness. The street lay quiet. Well, apart from a young human woman, her legs splayed wide with her skirt bunched around her waist as she sat in the gutter, trying to combat her drunken state and make it home. There was no dark sedan that sat outside her building and that filled her with a sense of satisfaction. "I knew you'd have to sleep some time Hunter."

  Should she try and make a grab for the gold? Part of her said that it was too dangerous. That she might just fuck it up and find herself in jail. But then, these were the moments she lived for, right? When she had everything to gain and just as much to lose? She was tired of being here, living segregated from hordes of humans. As pathetic as it sounded, she just wanted to be where she fit in. She wanted back into Hell and far away from Red Valley.

  It was this desire that solved her dilemma, and she grabbed her jacket and made for the door. Northside lay some twenty odd blocks from Killer Place, but it may as well have been in another world. The line that separated the rich from Sin Alley was as distinct as the underlying stench of blood and piss she left behind. Double story houses, complete with immaculately paved driveways and hundred thousand dollar vehicles, lined these streets, not drunken humans covered in last night's spoils.

  Kellah was headed to the drain in front of Stoddard's Dealership. One tiny drain that was causing all of her problems and she cursed herself for that moment of panic when she thought for sure she'd been caught. She had pulled the drawstring tight, throwing some of the most expensive diamonds she'd ever seen into the dark abyss as she prayed it wouldn't rain.

  Hunter had been so close, bearing down on her like a hungry wolf, and no matter how hard she tried to shake him off, he held on, puffing and panting but refusing to give up. The machine gun fire of voices from his radio sealed the deal and she acted without thinking. So, now she had to make up for her mistake. Lives depended on it.

  The sun was only a promise on the horizon when she neared the dealership, slowing enough to scout the area before she approached the steel grate. The headlights of a passing car swept the footpath in front of her, illuminating the tiny silver lump protruding from the corner of the building. She stopped for a moment, her feet planted firmly while in her mind a tiny voice whispered, something's not right.

  She neared the steel grate, her eyes focused on the now shadowed object, trying to determine what the fuck it was. Her heart pounded inside her chest and she flicked her eyes around as her unease grew. She bent and picked up the object, the clear lens looked up at her like a single eye.

  It was a camera. A wireless one programmed to transmit images back to a computer ... Hunter's computer she was betting. She growled, the sound burning her chest as it reverberated. How many more of these are out here? She scanned the area, but in the dusky morning she still couldn't be sure that she would find them all.

  The sound of a human snatched her mind away, their steps slapping the pavement as they headed towards her. She looked from the grate back to the camera, as that tiny voice inside warned her don't do it ... it's too dangerous.

  She pulled her lips back, exposing her teeth and hissing, throwing the silver object onto the ground before her. The heel of her boot followed quickly, leaving the parts scattered on the ground.

  Chapter 4


  Hunter's life ended the day he graduated from the Academy. It was a day that should have been the start to a whole new life for him and his wife Naomi. Fresh faced, in love and with a beautiful little girl, they had plans to conquer the world, but that just wasn't meant to be.

  He could never have predicted what was about to happen in the coming months. Even if he did, there was not a damn thing he could have done to prevent it. Fate, it seemed, was a cold-hearted bitch and, for some reason unbeknown to him, he had well and truly pissed her off.

  The routine call came through the radio for a drive-by patrol in a quiet residential suburb of Summerland Crossing. The call was made by a nervous young Mother that had seen someone looking into her bedroom and panicked. His buddy, Senior Constable Griffith, had driven past twice before he muttered that he needed to take a leak and pulled over to the side of the road outside a group of trees. Hunter remembered that moment perfectly, joking, you piss more than a pregnant woman, or something to that effect while he waited inside the car.

  The grunt and shudder that Griffith gave was passed off as a theatrical ending to a never ending yellow stream, and he remembered chuckling and shaking his head even as the body of his Senior Constable fell into the cabin of the car beside him.

  The front of his blue uniform had turned dark, and it quickly spread over his massive gut before it fell forward in a gush. At first he didn't quite understand what he was looking at as the child in him called out, "Griff?"

  Griff's shirt fell apart as his intestines fell free of his body, spilling around the now convulsing empty vessel that was once his partner. The most sickening realization now hit him like a piece of four by two between the eyes. His partner had just been murdered.