Outside, I throw her bag to the back of the truck and climb in. Jupiter slides in beside me and I pull her across the bench seat and wrap an arm around her shoulder. I turn the key in the ignition, hit the gas, and take off at breakneck speed toward the clubhouse.
I may be about to get my ass chewed out by Prez, but every second I’ve spent with Tink has been worth it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bear
Jupiter stalks into the clubhouse on my heels, bypassing Leah and Tyra entirely when they approach us. She prowls right into church, up to Chaos, and points her finger in his face as he sits at the table with the other bikers. “Where the fuck is my brother?”
He doesn’t look at her—just slides his cool-tempered gaze to me. “Mind telling me what your bitch is doing in my fuckin’ face, brother?”
“Jupiter,” I bark, and haul her off her feet, but she thrashes against me, refusing to back down.
“Where is he, Chaos?” she asks.
“Control your goddamn woman, Bear. Or I will.”
“I’m not his woman!” she snaps.
“Sorted out your little problem with that dead guy, didn’t he? And I’m pretty sure it’s your pussy I can smell all over him. If you’re not his then you won’t mind getting the fuck out of my face and out of my clubhouse before I give you to Bouncer as a chew toy.”
She scowls, but my little wildcat quits thrashing.
“Now, since you’re here accusing me of holding your brother captive, perhaps you can tell me where his dumbass has run off to. I sure would like to sit and have a heart-to-heart with him.”
A few of the brothers chuckle, and Jupiter glances around the room. Her gaze meets Ruin’s, and his responding glare has her eyes darting back to mine. He can’t help her here. Truth be told, none of us can if Prez gives the order. I’d fight like fucking hell to protect her, but outnumbered like this, we’d both be dead before I could even draw my pistol. Fucking woman’s gonna get me killed.
“Prez,” Crow says, coming in from the bar with a laptop in hand. “We just ... There’s something you should see.”
“What is it?”
“Er ...” He turns to Jupiter. “Maybe you shouldn’t watch this. I don’t think it’s gonna be good.”
“Crow,” Prez says. “You wanna tell me what the fuck you’re babbling on about?”
“It looks like our OnlyFans account has been hacked.”
“What the fuck?” Ruin says.
“A video was just posted to the account.”
“Crow!” Prez demands, slamming his fist on the table.
“One second,” he says, and patches into the flatscreen on the wall.
The video begins a little grainy, too dark to see clearly, and then as it pans out, the image of a man strapped to the Saint Andrew’s Cross in Ruin’s studio becomes crystal clear. Bobby Ray is naked as the day he was born, his body decorated in stab wounds, blood glittering in the studio lights. His face has been beaten black and blue, and his head hangs limp against his chest.
“No!” Jupiter shouts. Her hands fly to cover her mouth.
A fat man in one of the skull masks Ruin and Sterling sometimes wear on film enters the screen. His clothing is plain, black, and nondescript.
“This is what crossing us gets. We want double the money he stole, and if you can’t deliver, your pretty little purple-haired bitch is next.” He raises a wicked knife, the studio lights glinting off the blade as he slashes it across Bobby Ray’s neck. Blood gushes from the gaping maw, and I blink in shock. I’ve seen death and bloodshed. I’ve seen my brothers in arms blown up, shot, and maimed right in front of me, but the sight of that crimson flowing from Bobby Ray’s neck like a river sends me spiraling.
I close my eyes and I’m right back there in that war zone, watching my buddy hold onto a limb that dangled by sinew and only a few strands of muscle. He’d screamed like a little girl then, hadn’t kept his cool under pressure and through torment the way we’re trained. He’d screamed, and I can still hear that sound echoing through my head three hundred thousand miles away. I can still feel the blood on my hands, wet and vicious, tacky as it dried. The scent, coppery and rich—like rusty pennies—turns my stomach. I’ve killed men in war, and I’ve killed men in cold blood for my club, but I haven’t been filled with that rage again since.
Until now.
Jupiter howls beside me and collapses to the ground.
“Motherfucker!” I hiss. I’m not sure if I’m talking about myself or the biker who’s about to be dead fucking meat.
Ruin pushes back from the table and stands, kicking his chair over. He’s known the Jones family his whole life. Sterling, too. Fuck—they shared classrooms with these kids. “Jesus Christ!”
“Crow, find a way to take it down before they shut us down,” Ruin orders. “The last thing we need is the feds crawling all over us for making snuff videos.”
I sit heavily beside Jupiter and pull her into my lap, pressing kisses to her crown as she sobs against me. Every man in this room has something to say, but I tune it all out. I ignore all the noise, all the fucking rules and the club etiquette of awaiting Prez’s decree, all but the woman in my arms and the buzzing in my veins. Rage swells within me, turning my vision white, and all I can do is rock us back and forth and hold on, because if I let go of her now, I’m going to fucking kill someone.
“Church, now!” Chaos commands, tilting his chin toward Jupiter. “Get her out of here. Cambri and Tyra will take her.”
Crow comes over and helps Jupiter to her feet. I pick her up and walk her out of the room, laying her on one of the clubhouse couches. Leigh, Tyra, Kami and Cambri all hover around us, but Jupiter clings to me for dear life.
“I gotta take care of this, babe.”
“Please don’t leave me.” Her sobs are gut-wrenching, and I hope I never have to hear that sound again as long as I live.
“I have to. We need to find this fucker and make him pay.”
“Please?”
It breaks my heart to have to walk away from her, but Cambri scoots to the edge of the sofa and strokes her hair. “It’s okay,” she says to me. “We’ve got her.”
I nod and turn back to my brothers, heading into the room again and closing the door behind me.
The video is frozen on the TV. Bobby Ray’s lifeless body hangs limp, and then reanimates as Crow rewinds. My head swims as all of the blood gushing from his neck suddenly pours back inside. If only real life had a fucking rewind button.
“Who the fuck is that asshole?” Ruin asks. “Who the fuck do we have to kill?”
“He’s Bayou Bastards,” I murmur, but I don’t think anyone hears me. The brothers are shouting over the top of one another. Jupiter’s cries have turned to heart-shattering wails out in the other room. It’s like a dagger being shoved right through my chest. I clear my throat and say louder, “He’s Bayou Bastards MC.”
Ruin turns his attention to me. “How do you know?”
“We don’t know.” Chaos slams his fist on the table, drawing everyone’s attention. “He’s wearing a fucking mask. It could be anyone. We don’t know for sure—”
“Look at the tattoo peeking out from his sleeve. That devil dog is the same as the one on their center patch. It doesn’t matter what officer patch he wears, because they all need to die.”
Sterling turns toward the screen again and nods. “Yeah, that’s definitely the same.”
“Then what the fuck are we waiting for?” Ruin asks. “Let’s go!”
“We’re not going anywhere. Now, Jupiter may have taken out one of their members, but Bobby Ray confessed they weren’t working alone. He was making the drop for Atlanta’s White Nation.”
“Chaos is right,” Bash says. “We can’t go after them without knowing what we’re walking into, and not without a hell of a lot of backup. Last time I checked, White Nation’s numbers were unknown.”
“That’s my goddamn house they just killed a man in. What if Tyra had been there?
Or one of the rest of the guys?” Ruin argues with his father. “We’re not just gonna sit here on our fucking hands while these motherfuckers continue to come after us, are we? We’re the fuckin’ Kings. Carnage is what we do. They hit one of our own, we have to hit back.”
Sterling nods. Saint, too.
“Ruin, Sterling, Saint,” Chaos says. “The three of you head to Ruin’s. See if there’s any evidence left behind. Hell, maybe the fucker who did this is still there.”
Rage burns through me, hot as fire and destructive as hell. I shoot to my feet and head for the door.
“Bear!” Chaos says. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Church is in session.”
“I’m going after the cunt who just killed my girl’s brother.”
“Get your ass in here now.”
“Sorry, Prez, but that’s not happening.”
“Bear,” Bouncer warns, shooting up from his chair and stepping in front of me. He places his hand on my chest to halt my progress.
“Oh, shit,” Poe says.
“Get your motherfucking hands off me.”
“Let him go. Maybe some time to cool off will clear the fucking idiot notions from his head that he can take on the Bastards and White Nation all by himself.”
I’m nomad. I’m not a patched member of this club. I respect Chaos, I appreciate all of the brothers, and some I even feel closer to than those in my old club, but I turn my back and walk.
I don’t owe them a fucking thing. My girl is hurting, and I intend to put the assholes responsible for that in the fucking ground.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Bear
I ease my arm out from under Jupiter’s head and sit on the edge of the bed. I can’t just let this slide. The Bayou Bastards need to die. I pull my discarded jeans from the floor along with my black hoodie. I reach for my cut, but decide it’s better left here. After tonight, I’m going to have the nomad chapter riding my ass, as well as Chaos and Anvil—my old prez from the Nashville charter.
What I’m about to do might get me stripped of my colors altogether, but it’s worth it for her. The Bayou Bastards will know better than to fuck with the Kings, and Tink will be safe.
I know I can’t pull Sterling, Ruin, or Saint into this. As the newest patched members, it will be their job to talk me out of going against their prez, and I can’t afford them taking this to Chaos before I’ve had a chance to make things right. But I can’t do this alone either.
I pull out my phone and text Crow and Mako.
Me: I need your help.
It only takes a few beats, and the text speech bubbles start dancing.
Crow: Name it.
Me: I’m going after the Bayou Bastards. It might bring a war down on our heads. I have a plan for that too.
Crow: I got your back, brother. Just don’t cut off any limbs.
Mako: Yeah, I’m in too. Those fuckers need to die.
Me: Good. Meet me at Jupiter’s house in twenty.
Mako: Chaos isn’t going to like this.
Me: It isn’t Chaos’s woman being threatened.
Mako: Fair enough.
I lean over and kiss her forehead. She’s sound asleep after the pills I gave her, but I won’t rest until this is done, until she’s safe.
A few hours after telling her brothers about Bobby Ray, when the shock wore off a little, I helped them set the place to rights, but I’ve been in the bedroom with Jupiter ever since. She won’t eat, and the boys aren’t interested in food either. I probably should have pushed a little harder with that, but the news was a lot for everyone.
Liam is on the couch, staring at the wall where the TV used to be. He doesn’t look up when I come in, but when I head for the door, he asks, “You’re going after them?”
“I am.”
“I want to come,” Tuck says from the stairs.
I whip around, shaking my head. “And get another of Jupiter’s brothers killed? No fucking way, kid.” I pull the knife from the holster at my belt and inspect the blade in the light from the kitchen.
“He was our brother. We have a right to be there. We should be the ones to do it.”
“You ever tortured anyone?” I ask.
Liam pierces me with his gaze.
“No.” Tuck shakes his head, looking shamefaced. As if not prolonging the brutal killing of another human being is something to be ashamed of. “H-have you?”
I smile. “Trust me—you don’t have the stomach for what I’m about to do to these men.”
Tuck shrinks into himself.
“What can we do?” Jeb comes out of his bedroom and stands at the top of the stairs.
“Stay here.”
Tuck shakes his head. “There has to be something more.”
“Be here for her, because her whole life, she’s looked after all of you. Stay, get some rest, and be here for your sister because she’s going to need you when she wakes and finds me gone.”
As if on cue, growling pipes cut through the stillness of the night. Crow and Mako pull up to the house. I nod goodbye to Jupiter’s brothers and head outside to meet my own.
Crow nods in greeting. “Brother.”
“Thanks for coming.” I glance at him and then at Mako. “I need to ask you a favor.”
“You want me to stay here, don’t you?” He shakes his head. “I knew it. Just when I thought I was finally gonna see some action.”
“I can’t leave them all unprotected.”
He climbs off his bike. “So, I’m on babysitting duty while you two have all the fun?”
“Looks like,” Crow says.
“You realize if you guys do this, you risk losing the chance to patch in?”
Crow nods. “I’m with you, brother.”
I glance at Mako. He says, “Me too. But you’ll owe me. I’m not missing my chance to patch in over a fucking babysitting job.”
“Sounds fair.” I grab my helmet and climb on my bike as Mako flips the kickstand down on his and slides off. He takes the porch stairs two at a time and leans against the railing as Crow and I start our Harleys.
We’re almost out of town when three more bikes slide into place behind us. Ruin rides up alongside me, and I dart my gaze to him and then back at the road. “You’re not talking me out of this.”
“Not trying to,” he shouts back over the roar of our engines.
Sterling approaches on my left side. “Let’s go kill some angry white supremacists.” He revs the throttle and takes off.
We might not have any idea where the Bayou Bastards are hiding, but we know exactly where to find the head of White Nation, and I can be very convincing with the right tools.
“I’M GONNA ASK YOU AGAIN,” I whisper to the meth head tied to his dining room chair. The house might have been nice once—plush carpets, gauzy drapes, expensive wallpaper. But it smells like piss and burning plastic, and it’s clear this asshole sold everything he owned just for his next fix. “’Cause I don’t think you’re hearing me. Where the fuck are the Bastards hiding?”
I lean over and slide the point of the blade across his cheek, slowly. A line of blood wells against his pasty skin. He struggles in his bindings and cries like a baby, but we’ve only just begun.
I stand, straddling his lap, and wrench his head to the side. I grab the top of his ear and begin sawing with my blade. By the time I reach the earlobe, he’s done thrashing, his screams have turned to hoarse cries in the back of his throat, and his body slumps against the chair, a bleeding, sweaty mess. Torture will do that to you. I wipe the blood from my knife against his T-shirt and stand back, holding his ear aloft.
“Check it out, I’m Mr. Blond.” I waggle the bloodied ear and bring it close to my mouth, cocking my head and speaking into it the way the iconic mobster does. “‘Hey, what’s going on?’ Can you hear me now, motherfucker?”
“Jesus.” Sterling glances away.
“What the fuck are you doing, brother?” Saint’s arms are folded against his chest as he studies me.
I glance at the kid. “Did you never see Reservoir Dogs?”
Crow chuckles and shifts his weight against the kitchen wall. “Classic.”
“Bear,” Ruin warns. “We need to wrap this up.”
“You’re right.” I circle the Nazi lover and dart out my knife, slashing open his cheek. He screams and I grab his head, thrusting my blade against his throat hard enough that a trickle of blood glances off my fingers. “Tell me where to find the Bayou Bastards or your ear won’t be the only appendage I cut off, and really—do you want to walk through life half a man with a gaping hole where your cock used to be?”
The rapid rise and fall of his chest and the whimper that escapes his mouth suggests he doesn’t love that plan. I pull the knife away from his neck and dance the point of the blade down his torso. “Clock’s ticking.”
“Please, they’ll kill me if I talk.”
“See? That’s the thing. I’m going to kill you if you don’t. But if you tell me where they are, I’ll let you walk free. I’ll even give you a head start before I go after them.”
“Th-they’re i-in a warehouse near the dock.”
“Here? In Atlanta?”
“N-no. A place in LaGrange.”
“What place?”
“It’s a carpet manufacturer. They’re cutting the drugs in the back and distributing to mules who’ll take them on to Nashville, Birmingham, Jackson, and New Orleans.”
“Why are you working with them? Kind of off-brand for white supremacists, isn’t it?”
“The money helps us start up new organizations.”
“So they can spread that shit far and wide.” Crow shakes his head.
“Alright. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I bend down and hack through the zip ties binding his arms behind the chair.
His brow furrows in confusion. “Y-you’re letting me g-go?”
“Said I would, didn’t I?”
“Th-they’re gonna kill me.” He glances at the rest of the boys and then back at me. “F-for giving them u-up, I mean.”
“Then I suggest you run.”
He takes off at a clip toward the door and I pull my gun from the holster. I aim at his back and pop off three rounds. He slumps to the ground, unmoving. I slip my pistol back in the holster and glance at the faces of my brothers.
Bear (Kings of Carnage MC - Prospects Book 4) Page 11