by K. A. Ware
“Jesus, I guess,” I said, eyeing a toddler in a baby version of a Knights of Mayhem cut.
“Hey, Cato!” Blondie shouted.
My head swiveled around in time to see the prospect that had followed me around like a lost puppy while Baz was out of town last week, bounding toward us. He was a kid, couldn’t be older than nineteen, and it showed. His mop of messy brown hair might’ve made the Beliebers swoon in high school, but it wasn’t working for a wannabe grown man. I doubted he’d make the cut. He was just playing at biker. When shit hit the fan, this kid would be running for the hills.
Cato offered me a chin lift as he came to stand beside me at the bar. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Take their bags to Baz’s room,” Blondie said, gesturing to the three of us. “And stop fucking calling me ma’am, no one likes a pretentious little shit.”
“Yes, ma—got it,” he stuttered, hurriedly gathering our bags and heading for the barrack-like club rooms.
“Fuckin’ kids, their balls are so full of cum they can’t fuckin’ think straight,” she grumbled, shaking her head.
I had to stifle my laugh. Blondie may look like a lady with her platinum blonde hair, perfect makeup, and pixie-like stature, but she was as filthy as any grizzled old biker I’d ever met. I was pretty sure I wanted to be her when I grew up.
“This is my sister Stella, and my friend Amanda. She was staying with us, and I didn’t want to leave her alone at the house, I hope that’s okay,” I said, wincing a little. They already had enough people to take care of. I shouldn’t have added another.
“As long as she don’t mind sleeping on an air mattress, the more hands, the better,” she said, offering Amanda a wink.
“Of course, what can we help with?” Amanda asked. It was the first time she’d spoken since we’d left my house. I had been worried she was freaking out about being thrown into a biker den, but she looked to be handling it fine.
“See that middle-aged brunette with the ass of a sixteen-year-old? That’s Candy. She’s getting the rooms sorted, go see what she needs help with,” Blondie said, pointing across the room where Baz’s mom was talking with an older woman with long gray hair braided into a long rope that hung down her back.
Amanda headed off without another word, eager to help.
“Damn, future mother-in-law still got it,” Stella whistled, eyeing Candy.
My elbow shot out, connecting with her ribs. “Shut your fucking mouth, right now,” I hissed.
Blondie laughed, shaking her head. “Stella, baby, why don’t you come back here and help me put away the groceries and get things prepped for dinner? Finley, hun, go find Baz, he’s been waiting for you to get here.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, looking at Stella. Not wanting to abandon her. She just rolled her eyes.
Blondie reached out to put her hand over mine, giving it a little squeeze. “I got her, honey. It’s all good.”
Reluctantly, I left them and went in search of Baz. He wasn’t hard to find, sitting quietly on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.
“Hey,” I said softly, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind me. He didn’t look like he wanted to be bothered, but Blondie had said he was waiting for me, so maybe I wasn’t what he was avoiding.
Raising his head, he looked at me through tired eyes. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, tossing and turning for hours before leaving me in my bed early that morning. I imagined he had a lot on his mind, but I hoped it wouldn’t get in the way of whatever they were planning.
“Hey,” he croaked, his voice dry and brittle.
He was hurting, that much was obvious, I just didn’t know why. Closing the distance between us, I kneeled in front of him. Taking his face in my hands, I planted a gentle kiss on his lips before pulling away slightly to rest my forehead against his. “You wanna talk about it?”
His head rolled from side to side against my own. “Can’t.”
“Club business?” My voice was barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” he rasped.
I stroked my thumbs across his cheekbones, willing my touch to seep away his pain. “What can I do?”
“You’re doing it,” he said, tilting his head to take my mouth as his arms came around me.
In one smooth movement, he lifted me up and rolled us onto the bed, pinning me to the mattress. I didn’t argue or put up a fight about how many people could come bursting through the door at any second, I kept quiet, letting him take what he needed.
Words were beyond us. We fed off of frantic hands and low moans as we came together, each searching for reassurance in the other. For that moment, the chaos of our world fell away, all the worries that had been plaguing us melted away into the ether.
In the back of my head, I knew reality would rear her ugly head sooner than later, but I opted to push the thought away. Focusing on being in the moment for once, I went all in, letting the final brick from the wall around my heart fall and crumble.
Whether he knew it or not, Micah James Bassett had my heart, and I hoped to hell, he’d be careful with it.
Twenty-Three
BAZ
“The fuck are we doin’ here?” Rooster asked as we all killed our engines in front of the Iron Savages clubhouse in Lakewood, Washington. Just outside of Tacoma, the little slice of dog shit the Savages called home was the perfect jumping off point for our attack on the Sinner’s mother chapter.
Pops, Chains, Jester, and I were the only ones who knew where we’d been headed when we left the clubhouse. We had to intentionally keep the rest of the club in the dark for our plan to work.
“Yeah, I’d like to know why I put my kid on lockdown for a run up to a supporting club,” Mick said, climbing off his bike.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Let’s get inside,” Chains growled, pulling off his riding gloves. I wasn’t the only one who had been in a foul mood lately. The strain of knowing we had a mole was wearing on our president as well.
With more than a few grumbles, we headed for the wooden stairs that led to the second floor of the converted junkyard garage serving as the Iron Savages’ clubhouse.
Gear, the Lakewood president, greeted us at the top of the stairs. “Been too long, old man,” he said, gripping Chains’ hand and pulling him into a back-slapping hug.
“If I’m old, you’re fuckin’ ancient, you decrepit fuck,” Chains said with a smile.
“Can still kick your sorry ass,” Gear snapped, running a hand down his long braided beard. There wasn’t a single hair on his face or head that wasn’t gray, couple that with the roadmap of wrinkles around his eyes, and he wasn’t fooling anyone. At nearly seventy, Gear was a stubborn old fuck with a death grip on his gavel.
“Well, come on then. Not very often we host another club. Girls went a little overboard. There’s food, booze, and primo pussy aplenty.”
“Appreciate the hospitality, but I’d like to get a minute with my boys before we kick off the festivities,” Chains said, clapping the older man on the shoulder.
“Not a problem, what’s mine is yours, brother. I’ll show ya to the chapel.” Gear was laying it on thick, too thick.
He’d been gunning to get his small club patched over by the Knights for years, hoping to line his pockets with a bigger name and more business opportunities. The Savages had quite a few charters, but they’d come into the game late, filling in the shithole cracks of territory that had been left over after the lines had been drawn between the gangs and MCs in the area.
They’d been struggling to get their footing for decades, fighting to survive and hold onto what little they had. Gear was old school and hell bent on holding on to the past. I couldn’t help but wonder if his club would actually be able to finally find that footing they’d been clawing at so desperately if Gear stepped down and let someone younger take over.
We were greeted with fist bumps, raised beers, and back-slapping as we made our way through the main room and across the catwalk overlooking
the garage to the other side of the building where the chapel was located. If I remembered correctly, there was a small room connected to the garage office that served as Gear’s crash pad, but other than that, the club was too small for there to be rooms for the brothers.
Gear held out a box for us to drop our cell phones into as we filed into the room. As long as he did his part while we were inside, the plan would work. At least that’s what I kept telling myself, in reality, I had no idea how the next few hours were going to play out.
I only half listened as Chains laid out the decoy plan, speaking up only enough to make it believable. Lying to my brothers, even if it was to expose Ox as the traitor, made me sick. But it was the only way I could think of to catch him in the act. The ends justified the means. I knew that, but I didn’t have to like it.
When Chains was done spewing garbage, we got up and the boys headed back to the party. I caught Gear’s slight nod to Chains as he held out the box for everyone to retrieve their phones. Frogger hung back with Jester and me at the doorway to the chapel. When everyone had ventured back across the catwalk leaving Pops, Chains, and Gear remaining, we filed back into the room where Frogger opened his laptop.
He brought up a screen that I couldn’t even begin to decipher and started clicking on shit. We’d had to bring Frogger into the fold since none of us knew shit about bugs or surveillance. He wasn’t happy about spying on his brothers and lying to his cousin, but he did what he had to anyway.
“I can tell when the phones are being used, but these bugs are limited, if they’re texting, I won’t be able to see the message,” Frogger said, looking up at the rest of us.
“What about phone calls?” Chains asked, his brows furrowing.
“Yeah, it’d pick it up, but no one calls anymore. If these were iPhones, I could hack them, but they’re cheap burners. It’s not perfect, but it was the best I could do on such short notice,” he snapped, eyes sliding to me.
Way to make a guy feel like a class A jackass.
I didn’t have anything against Frogger, I loved him like a brother, but this wasn’t about him, it was about the safety of the club, and he’d just have to deal.
“So we go out there and keep an eye on them. Frogger will send us a message when one of the phones light up, and we go in.” The men around me silently agreed, faces grim.
“You sure you put the right bugs in the right phones?” Frogger asked, looking to Gear.
“I’m old, but I’m not fuckin’ stupid. They’re where they’re supposed to be,” he shouted, face growing pink.
Frogger put his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Just asking.”
The old man continued to glare at Frogger. “What if they call the missus?”
I shook my head. “None of them have anyone waiting for them back home. If they’re making contact right after church, something’s up.”
Chains stood, his eyes roaming our group. “Then we should get out there, need eyes on all three of ‘em, not just Ox.”
“We know it’s him,” Jester grumbled.
“We don’t know nothin’ ‘til we see it,” Chains barked, his fist coming to slam down on the metal table.
“Then let’s go get your fuckin’ proof,” Jester growled, stomping across the room. The walls shook when he slammed the door behind him.
“Come on,” I said, following after him.
It was time to hurry up and wait. Ox would inevitably try to tip off the Sinners, and when he did we’d have all the proof we needed, and it would finally be over.
So why is my stomach still turning?
The uneasiness I felt didn’t let up when I pulled my buzzing phone from my pocket fifteen minutes later and read Frogger’s message. I scanned the room in a panic. I’d been so damn fixated on Ox. I hadn’t been watching anyone else.
Pops caught my gaze, his face etched with horror. Quickly, I began pushing through the crowded room to the door.
Where the fuck was he? We’d set this up perfectly, a confined space with only one exit, how the fuck did we let him get away?
I caught Chains out of the corner of my eye moving with me to the door, Gear was close on his heels, but when I scanned the room over my shoulder, I couldn’t find Jester.
Shit.
Not giving a fuck about raising suspicion anymore, I picked up my pace, pushing men and sluts out of my way. Pulling my piece from beneath my cut, I hurdled down the stairs, my booted feet pounding violently on the wood.
As I hit the bottom of the stairs, I heard something coming from around the corner, grunts and crunching gravel. Without stopping, I headed for the front of the garage where the bikes were parked.
Jester landed a right hook just as I rounded the corner. The rat falling limply to the ground at his feet. As I slowly approached the two men, I could hear multiple pairs of feet, crunching in the gravel behind me. Chancing a glance over my shoulder, I saw my entire club and most of the Iron Savages watching to see what happened next.
“It gonna cause problems for you if we handle this here?” I asked, looking to Gear.
His pale eyes hardened even as his lips twitched into a smile behind his beard. The man may be ancient, but he was still as ice cold as they came. “This close to the military base? Ain’t no one gonna flinch at a couple gunshots.”
I cut my eyes to Chains. He nodded once, nothing but pain in his eyes. I had to do this. I’d brought him into the club. It was me who had to take him out.
Jester moved to the side as I came forward to stand over Rooster as he pushed himself to his knees.
“Why?” I asked, working hard to keep my voice from betraying how close I was to choking up. My tunnel vision on Ox had gotten me blindsided by someone I considered as one of my closest friends.
To Rooster’s benefit, he didn’t try to talk himself out of it. He knew he’d been caught. Letting his chin drop to his chest, he sighed, defeated. “I had to, man.”
“You had to stab your brothers in the back? I don’t fuckin’ think so,” I spat back.
“It’s my sister, Tess,” he explained, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “She called me freaked the fuck out. Was datin’ some asshole Sinner, then he started passin’ her around to his friends. She wanted out, but they wouldn’t let her leave. I had to do something.”
Tess? I’d only met Rooster’s sister once, but she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. Last I’d heard she was in Seattle going to school, wouldn’t have pegged her for someone to get involved with an MC.
“Why didn’t you come to the club? To me?” I choked out, hating the pain in my voice.
“They said if I did, they’d kill her. The shit at the strip club, them takin’ pot shots at us? That was retaliation,” he said, his eyes pleading with me to understand.
“For what?” It didn’t matter what his answer was, the result would still be the same, but I had to know everything.
“I drove up there, fixin’ to get her out, but she wasn’t there. Told them I’d be back to get her with my boys. They hit us at the club that night before I had a chance to bring it to the table. Cut off her fuckin’ pinky and sent it to me at the club. I didn’t have a choice!” he yelled, curling in on himself.
“You did have a choice!” I screamed, pushing the barrel of my gun against his temple. “You could’ve come to us!”
Rooster pressed his head more firmly against the barrel as if he were daring me to pull the trigger. “They would’ve killed her before we even got there.”
I crouched down and looked him dead in the eye. “So you went behind our backs and sold us out?”
“It’s not that simple! What would you have done if it was Risa?” he asked, his eyes never leaving mine.
I felt my lip curl up in disgust. “I would’ve trusted my club to figure it out. What do they know?” I demanded. “I want to know everything you told them.”
Rooster blinked, his eyes dropping to the ground. “I only gave them what I had to, to keep Tess alive. They wanted the d
rugs, they knew Johnny had come to you about taking over the H runs. I told them where the drop off was happening and where we hid the product after the botched interception. Didn’t have any other info until tonight, told ‘em we were comin’ for ‘em tomorrow, that’s it, I swear.”
“Hope it was worth dying for,” I said, standing to my full height.
Rooster’s head jerked, and his eyes darted to the faces of the men gathered around. “C’mon Baz, you’re not gonna kill me.”
“You betrayed us. Could’ve gotten your brothers killed, what did you expect would happen?” I asked, praying he’d have an answer I didn’t.
Knowing what needed to happen and actually doing it, were two different things. I’d spent years with Rooster at my back. It was hard to reconcile my betrayer with my friend.
His hands balled into fists at his sides. “She’s family, I had to get her out of there,” he said, his voice wavering just a bit at the end.
“We’re your family. We would’ve helped, but you didn’t give us an option.” I looked to the group of men at my back before returning my attention to the man on his knees in the gravel. “All in favor of stripping Rooster’s patch and takin’ him to ground?”
A chorus of ‘yeas’ sounded all around us, but I kept staring down at my former friend, a man I thought would always have my back. The vote had to be unanimous, and the long silence indicated I was the last to give my answer.
“I know I fucked up, I know that. But please, just promise me you’ll get her out of there, please!” his voice broke as he begged for mercy, not for himself, but for his sister.
Dipping my chin slightly, I gave him an infinitesimal nod. I’d make sure Tess got out, but that’s as far as my loyalty to him would go.
This was it, time for excuses and explanations was over. Rooster had betrayed the brotherhood, and he had to pay for it. I steeled myself, bracing under the weight of the only thing left to do.
“Aye,” I growled. I felt my heart calcify as I squeezed the trigger. A blade of sorrow sliced through my soul leaving a gaping hole of grief as blood, brain, and bone sprayed over me, staining my clothes and skin with my sins. There was no going back.