by K. A. Ware
The night remained silent well after the echo of the gunshot had quieted. I watched as blood seeped into the gravel, casting tiny streams of blood between the rocks under Rooster’s head.
“What do we do now?” Z asked, the rasp in his voice heavier than normal, the only indication he’d been affected by what had just transpired.
Despite Zero’s zombie-like numbness, I appreciated his focus on where we went from here.
Taking one last look at the lifeless body at my feet, I turned away from Rooster and faced the crowd. “Now, we get inside and fill you in on the actual plan. Party’s gonna have to wait, we’re hittin’ the Sinners tonight.”
“Everyone understand the plan?” I asked, turning around in my seat, to look at the men piled in the back of the van.
Once we’d gone over the actual plans for the strike Jester had worked up, we piled into the three vans the Savages had supplied. Per Jester’s instructions, the plates had already been switched out, and they were ready to roll. I wasn’t a fan of getting stuck in a cage, but bikes were too conspicuous. We needed to go in quiet, take them out and get the fuck gone.
The plan was simple and straightforward. We’d hit all three exits at once, working our way through the building painting the walls red until every last one of their souls were burning in hell.
The Savages had already paid off a couple of the Sinners’ cut sluts to make sure the doors were unlocked, the back gate was open, and the club was clear of kids. As long they followed through, we’d be able to surprise the Sinners and hopefully reduce bloodshed on our side.
“Yeah, we got it. Gonna fuckin’ enjoy makin’ the bastards bleed,” Ox spat, hands fisting on his knees. The veins in his arms were bulging, and his face had started to turn an angry shade of red. I couldn’t say I blamed him, his fury was more than justified. Knowing he’d even been a suspect would burn for a long while, if he knew how dead set most of us had been on him being the rat, it’d kill him.
We tried to soften the blow as best we could, but at the end of the day we’d bugged Ox and Z’s phones, there would be some leftover resentment to be settled. A couple rounds in the ring with Ox would do us both good, soothing my guilt and mostly taking the edge off his anger. I’d gladly sport a black eye for a couple of weeks if it meant I could stop feeling like I was the one who had betrayed my club.
The rest of the ride was quiet, no one quite knowing what to say or how to handle Ox’s volatile mood. Chains’ words from earlier that night rattled around in my head, haunting me. I was so dead set on listening to my gut, I hadn’t stopped to consider I might be wrong. Realizing I couldn’t blindly trust my instincts shook the very foundation of everything I believed in. It made me question everything, including my ability to lead my club.
Soon, Chains would be gone, and it would be up to me to keep the fragile balance in place. Was I capable of that? Was I ready? The conversation I had with Gunner before we left the compound wormed its way through the self-doubt.
“Baz!” Gunner barked.
Craning my neck, I saw the old man shuffling toward me and Rabbit. “I’ll be right back,” I said, dropping a kiss on her forehead before splitting off.
Bracing myself for what was sure to be a lecture about my generation becoming pussy-fied, I closed the distance. “What’s up?”
The old-timer’s pale blue eyes scanned me from head to toe and back again. Grunting, he turned, waving an arthritic hand for me to follow. As much as I didn’t want to listen to him bitch and moan, I trailed behind him and into the chapel out of respect. Or at least the last shreds of respect I still had for the old bastard.
“Wanted to talk to you before we’re waist deep in shit,” he grumbled, falling into one of the chairs.
Gritting my teeth, I took the seat opposite of him, and prayed for patience. My respect for Gunner had waned considerably over the years. He was like Gear, an old man stuck in the past with all the assumptions and prejudices that came with it. The world had changed, but these old fuckers refused to budge and their clubs suffered because of it.
“I know we don’t see eye to eye,” Gunner started and I bit back a groan.
His bushy grey brows drew down over his pale eyes as if he could tell what I was thinking without me uttering a word. “Things are different than they were when I held the gavel, I get that—doesn’t mean you should throw the knowledge from the past out the window. Gotta find the balance between knowledge, instinct, and experience.”
I sighed, my eyes rolling up to look at the ceiling. “Why are you telling me this?”
“’Cause I’ve been where you are, boy. Now listen up, you might fuckin’ learn somethin’,” he snapped. “You’re about to face the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do. Puttin’ down a brother that betrayed the club ain’t somethin’ you can just walk away from. That shit’s gonna follow you. Gotta use it, learn from it, or it’ll eat ya alive.”
Letting my pride take a back seat, I listened. Gunner may be a bastard, but he was right about something, he had experience I didn’t, I’d be a fool to ignore that.
“I’m tryin’ to say, I’m here if you need me. Chains ain’t got long, but I’m too damn stubborn to die,” he said, his chuckle turning into an ominous cough. He may be stubborn, but he wasn’t immune to the ails of age.
I wasn’t surprised Chains had told him about the cancer, they didn’t always agree, but Chains took Gunner’s counsel into consideration more often than not.
“Just don’t forget the past. You can learn just as much from the mistakes of the people that came before you as you can from your own. Those boys out there would follow you to hell and back without a single question, don’t take it for granted,” he said, his eyes clouding with pain.
“I won’t,” I said, speaking for the first time since he started his speech.
“You’re smart, you’ll do fine,” he said, getting to his feet.
He hadn’t said it in so many words, but knowing I had his respect and support meant more than I thought it would.
We were all itching to be free of the suffocating silence by the time we pulled into an alleyway a block from the Sinners’ clubhouse. Slipping through the back gate, we made our way across the empty yard toward the dilapidated building without a word. Jester led Frogger, Z, Ox, Crow, and me into position near the back door while the rest of our men and the Savages were readying to take the front and side entrances.
With a double-click to his radio, Jester gave the signal and reached out, carefully turning the knob and silently pushing the door open and stepping inside.
The whores came through for us.
Rifles in hand, we filed through the back door after Jester and into a narrow hallway. Thanks to the building specs Frogger had managed to get a hold of, we already had our plan of attack and moved quickly, clearing the closet off the hallway and hooking left to move onto the back bedrooms.
Jester and I took our positions on opposite sides of the first door while Ox and Crow set up outside the second, and Z and Frogger did the same at the third door. With a nod from Jester, we moved as one, he shot the lock off, I pushed open the door, and he advanced into the room, taking out a half-naked Sinner before I even cleared the door.
The girl he’d been fucking screamed, jumping from the bed. “Out the back,” I ordered, gripping her arm and roughly shoving her toward the door. She stumbled, but regained her footing and took off for the back door.
We cleared the next three rooms in much of the same way, sending even more girls out the back where Gear was waiting to usher them into the van. Safe passage out of this shithole had been a stipulation the club whores who’d agreed to help us had insisted on. They wanted out just as much as we wanted in.
The asshole in the last room at the end of the hall took pot shots at us when we breached the door, but Jester was quick to neutralize him before he could land a hit. With our section of the clubhouse clear, we doubled back, heading to the main room of the building in a single line.
As we turned the corner into the open common area, I caught sight of my father’s pale face. My eyes traveled down to where he held his bicep, ruby red blood seeping between his fingers.
“What happened?” I barked, breaking formation.
I jogged to where my dad was leaning against the wall, next to Chains. Clicking the safety on my rifle, I shoved it into my President’s hands and pulled my father’s hand away so I could get a better look at the wound.
“Just a stray. Needs stitched up and it hurts like hell, but I’ll be fine,” he grumbled. A quick glance to Chains confirmed that the only fatal wound had been dealt to the old man’s pride.
“Hey, Baz!” Mick called, manhandling a bald guy with his hands zip-tied behind his back into the room. “Found him with the girl, patch says President.”
Vincent “Vinny” Fairbanks.
He spat at the floor, cursing up a storm as he fought against Mick’s grip. I’d done my research, and the Tacoma chapter president was every bit the bastard in person that he was on paper.
“Tess okay?” I asked, moving to intercept them.
“Wouldn’t say okay, but she’ll live,” Mick said, kicking the back of Vinny’s legs, and forcing him to his knees.
He grunted as he landed on the concrete floor. “Fuck you! What we do with our bitches is our business!” Vinny shouted, spittle flying from his lips with each syllable.
“Well, we made it our business, didn’t we? That’s what you get when you rape teenage girls,” I snapped. Reaching back, I let my fist fly, landing a right hook with a satisfying crunch as it connected with Vinny’s nose.
Blood poured down from his nose, dripping over his mouth and off his chin. “Fuck you, they’re all over eighteen!” he shouted. His lips twitched into a bloody smile revealing red-stained teeth. “I checked.”
I leaned down into his face, lowering my voice so only he could hear. “Learn your lesson after Natalie?” I hissed, using Stella’s real name. I doubted my sick pleasure was what Rabbit had in mind when she’d told me that, but I enjoyed the look on Vinny’s face when I said her name nevertheless.
His eyes widened slightly before his face twisted into a violent sneer. He pulled at his bindings, struggling and screaming so much he didn’t notice when I stood and pulled my Glock from my shoulder holster. “That fuckin’ bitch—”
His words were cut off when I fired a close-range shot right at his crotch. Vinny’s body jerked, as he let out a blood-curdling scream of agony before falling to his side. I let him writhe on the ground for a while, enjoying his pain.
Making this bastard hurt was numbing the sting of Rooster’s betrayal. As fucked as it was, I didn’t care. If torturing this sadistic fuck dulled the pain even just a little, I’d gladly string it out as long as I could.
Lifting my foot, I slammed a steel toe into Vinny’s face, relishing in the spray of blood that followed. “Fucked with the wrong club, you son of a bitch,” I gritted out, landing another brutal kick to his ribs and sending him sprawling backward onto his bound wrists.
The pain must’ve been excruciating because the Sinners President couldn’t even form words anymore. Kicking his knee to the side, I pressed the heel of my boot into the wound where his dick used to be. He howled in pain, his screams only dying off when the pain became too much and he passed out.
“Fuckin’ pussy,” I snarled, moving to stand over him more fully.
I didn’t think before I made this kill shot, I didn’t feel a single thing when I pulled the trigger and sunk a slug between Vincent Fairbanks eyes.
Stepping away, I looked up to the men gathered around, some faces held fear, and others respect. I didn’t need their permission. I’d done what I needed to do to eliminate the threat to my club. Enjoying it was a bonus.
“Let’s torch this place so we can get the fuck outta here,” I said, holstering my pistol.
The old building went up like a tinderbox, and we were on the road within ten minutes. Making a quick detour, we pulled into a shitty motel parking lot. The girls piled out, and I pulled Tess aside as Mick offered the other girls an envelope of cash for their troubles.
She rubbed at her bare arms, willing away the cool night air. “Where is he?” Her voice was flat when she asked about her brother for the first time. When she looked up, with the same brown eyes as Roosters, I could tell she already knew.
“Dead.”
Her chin quivered, and she dropped her gaze to the ground as she tried to keep it together. My eye caught on the blood and dirt staining the bandage wrapped around her left hand. Rooster had been telling the truth. I wished that knowledge made me feel better, but the void in my chest remained.
Losing the battle with her tears, her shoulders began to shake as the first sob escaped. She’d been through the wringer and even though the wounds Rooster had inflicted were still fresh, I hooked a hand behind her neck and pulled her into my arms.
I was the last person who should be comforting her given the circumstances, but I couldn’t help but feel like she was the only one who understood my pain. I’d loved Rooster like a brother, regardless of what he’d done, I still mourned for him.
Mick caught my eye, nodding toward the van. He’d finished with the other girls, and the boys were ready to roll.
Time to wrap this shit up.
Pulling away, I forced Tess to look at me. “You have an apartment, or somewhere we can drop you?”
She shook her head, more tears spilling down her cheeks. “I was in the dorms. Lost my scholarship when I stopped going to class. Been living at the club.”
“Still got family in Texas, right?” I asked. Rooster had talked about growing up in Texas, and if memory served, I was pretty sure he still had family down south.
Tess nodded. “Gran’s just outside of Austin.”
Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my wallet, snatching a stack of bills and pressing them into her uninjured hand. “It’s not much, but should be enough to get you a room for the night and a bus ticket.”
“I—ah, are you sure?” she asked, peering up at me.
“Least I can do. Take care, Tess,” I said, backing away. I couldn’t risk letting her touch me again. My nerves were too raw. If she tried to hug me, I think I’d break down right along with her.
“Thank you,” she said, voice watery with tears.
Fuck.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Turning, I jogged back to the van, leaving her standing on the cracked pavement under a moonless sky.
As we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, I told myself I’d done enough, but I knew it was a lie. Nothing would bring her brother back, but I could’ve done more, or at least tried. I tried to tell myself it was too painful, but the truth was I was worried she’d start asking questions. I didn’t know if I had it in me to lie to her face, so I’d turned tail, too much of a pussy to stay and find out.
I lost a piece of my fucking soul when I put Rooster down, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get it back. Moments like those were hammered into your brain, they lingered and haunted your dreams. I needed Rabbit to take it away, shine some of her light on the darkness that had started to consume me.
I’d let the boys have their fun tonight at the Savages’ clubhouse. After the raid, they needed the release only booze and bitches could provide. First thing in the morning, though, I was on my bike, headed straight for my woman.
Twenty-Four
FINLEY
Succumbing to the fact that I wasn’t going to get back to sleep, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and climbed from the bed, careful not to wake Stella. Shoving my feet into my Converse, I quietly snatched the hoodie Baz had left draped over a chair in the corner.
Tiptoeing around Amanda as she snored softly from her place on the air mattress next to the bed, I made my way to the door and slipped into the hallway. The club was eerily silent as I made my way through the dark halls in search of coffee.
Sleep had been impossible to find since I’d woken
up to a text from Baz. I could tell there was something he wasn’t telling me. His message was clipped, simply saying he’d be home a day earlier than planned. When I tried to press for details, he shut me down, instructing me to get some sleep and saying he’d explain things when he got back.
My imagination ran wild with reasons their mission might have been cut short, each one worse than the last. It was too much. I needed a distraction, something else to focus on so I didn’t drive myself crazy with worry.
Emerging from the hallway into the great room, I took a look around, assessing the damages. Plastic trucks and toy blocks littered the floor in front of the couches and glitter covered the surface of every table. The older kids had been easy enough to entertain, but the babies were even worse than bikers—little humans with sticky fingers who toddled around like miniature drunks, destroying everything in their wake.
Once the guys had ridden out, Stella relaxed, easily slipping into the fold. The kids, especially Mick’s ten-year-old daughter, Sydney, flocked to her. Even the gnarled old timer, Gunner, took a shining to my sister. After the kids had long since gone to bed, I found the two of them bellied up to the bar. She sat smiling up at him as he regaled her with some over-the-top story from the glory days.
It’d been a long time since I’d seen her like that. Worry lines and tight eyes gone, she looked years younger, like I imagined she’d look if she hadn’t had to grow up so fast. She was happy. Not fine, not just okay, she was actually, truly happy.
As selfish as it was, it made me feel better about choosing Baz and the life he came with. For years, I’d sacrificed having close relationships with anyone for her safety and wellbeing, but as soon as I let myself reach for what I wanted, she began to flourish.
It wasn’t just getting over the hurdle of being inside a clubhouse. She’d been doing better since Baz had come into the picture. Like my being happy somehow gave her permission to do the same.