by Voss, Deja
“I love you, sister,” I say.
“I love you, too. You better make sure Rocky gets his walk tonight, or he’ll probably pee in your shoes.”
That crazy mutt is out there living his best life, running around the clubhouse eating whatever food falls on the floor while a bunch of club sluts fawn over him, completely oblivious to the situation. Exactly how he should be, and exactly how I wish Josie could be.
I watch her walk the driveway, watch her as she tiptoes up the front porch, looks over her shoulder, and stares at me sadly. Soon, we won’t have to do this ever again. Soon everything is going to be okay, and as we scatter Esther’s ashes in the field tomorrow morning, this will all be behind us.
Right this moment, I feel like I’m driving off to my death sentence. I feel so alone. I’m filled with overwhelming regret, like maybe if I never showed up back in town again, everyone would’ve been better off. Am I leading the people I love into grave danger just for my own pride?
My cell phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out.
“Love you,” is all it says, a text from Brooks. I never thought the height of romance would be something I read on my phone screen, but with him, it works. My heart is racing, and the tears start pouring again.
Please let me live to hear that in person.
Chapter 31
Brooks:
I’m fucking sick to my stomach. I hate everything about today. Everybody knows the drill. They’ve been read the riot act. Trying to talk a bunch of chapters of the MC into cooperating with the FBI was a huge risk. I could’ve been dubbed the ultimate traitor. I could’ve found myself in the shack of terrors, stripped of my patch along with my eyeballs, kneecaps, and kidneys.
Thank God for Esther. There’s not a human being in the world that wouldn’t do anything for her, whether she’s living or dead.
So we’ve got these ‘undercover’ agents trying to blend in with the mayhem, telling everyone to act ‘natural,’ throwing around shit like ‘immunity,’ but there’s not enough moonshine on this mountain to get these men fucked up enough to be on the kind of behavior we’re used to from a rally. Our funerals are more fun than this.
Not that I’m much fun myself. How can I be? All I can think about is Helena, how it’s all my fault she’s tangled up in this nightmare, and how, once again, I did a shitty job of protecting the people I love. It’s true. I fucking love that broad. I was too big of a pussy to tell her to her face this morning, but after tonight, things are going to change.
I do my best to make nice with all my brothers. I try not to drink too much, even though it’s a lot easier to put a beer in my mouth than have to talk to anyone. I’m just a ball of nervous energy. Nervous energy and a constant need to vomit. This shit sucks.
“Doesn’t it, Rocky?” I ask, scooping the ugly mutt up in my arms like a baby.
I try to map out an escape route as I catch Jasmine beelining her way over to me through the crowd, but she’s too quick. She’s all hookered up in a pair of tight leather shorts and high-heeled boots, her sequined bikini top barely covering the tits I’ve had in my face on more than one occasion.
“Hey,” she says, petting Rocky on the head as he wiggles in my arms, trying to lick her face. Poor guy would probably need his stomach pumped after he got a mouthful of that glitter eye shadow. “I haven’t got to talk to you yet.”
“What’s up?” I ask her, setting the dog down and shoving my hands in my pockets. I don’t know what kind of terms we’re on. Weird, maybe? Hadn’t really thought about her ever since that night at the clubhouse when Helena and I first got together for real. I don’t think I’ve even seen her since that day but I could be wrong. Seems like I’ve had a one-track mind lately, and I’m okay with that. Helena is the only woman I need to worry about.
“I’m just glad things are finally getting sorted out,” she says. “You worried?”
“Yeah,” I say with a nod. “I don’t like this at all. I mean, I’m glad we’re finally going to get justice for Esther, but this fucking sucks. Putting all these people in danger? Thanks for coming to help. You didn’t have to.”
“I did,” she says. “I know this probably sounds stupid, after what we’ve been through, but this past year has opened my eyes, Brooks. Without you leaving me out in the cold, I would’ve never realized what kind of path I was going down.” She blinks, tears falling down her face, smearing her mascara. “This club life, it was easy. I didn’t have to be anything but pretty and mean. I didn’t have to face the fact that looks fade and, at the end of the day, I might have ended up old and alone, with nothing to show for my life except a body count.”
“You found Jesus, didn’t ya,” I tease, as she wipes her tears from her eyes.
“Not exactly. Having Helena around was a huge reality check. That girl’s got ambition. She’s not just hanging around here looking for attention. She’d be fine on her own. I want to be like that. I’m here to help today because Esther was my friend and she was kinder to me than any woman ever has been in my life. But I’m in nursing school now. I’m gonna make myself something. I’m gonna change the world.”
I believe her. I’m happy for her. Legitimately happy. I tormented this woman for months on end, trying to fit her into my world, trying to turn her into something she was never meant to be, and now she’s free. Helena really is special. Even when she’s not saying anything at all, everyone around listens. “The guys are going to miss you,” I say. “You have my blessing, though.”
“Guys!” a woman’s voice shouts through the crowd of bikers surrounding us and we turn to look. “Brooks! I’m here!”
“I told you I was sending a car for you,” I say to Gina as she stands in front of us, looking haggard as ever. Her cutoff jean shorts are barely hanging on to her bony hips, and her eyes are bloodshot.
“I wanted to get here early. It’s been a long time,” she says. “I need to warm up.” She reaches to give me a hug and I stand there stiff as a board. This bitch makes my skin crawl. Just a few more hours, though. I can play nice until then.
“You need more than a warm up, Gina,” Jasmine says, shooting me a wink. “Let’s go try and do something about your make-up.” That woman is going to need a fire hose full of cover-up to hide the scars on her arms and pockmarks on her face. “What kind of disguise are we putting you in tonight?”
Back in the day, when she used to dance in the club, she always wore a mask or a wig or a costume to hide her identity so her old man wouldn’t find out she was working here.
“I got nothing to hide,” she says. “I just need some cash.”
The two disappear into the crowd, and I watch Jasmine walking away, knowing it will probably be the last time. It’s bittersweet. I knew Esther wanted the two of us to be together, but I think she’d be proud of both of us for knowing better than she did.
Everything is falling right into place. I just need to play it cool. Keep my shit together. Go out and mingle. Try and fight the urge to puke up whatever is left in my stomach, my nerves killing me.
My phone buzzes in my jeans. “I love you, too” is all it says. And that’s all I need to know.
Chapter 32
Brooks:
It’s chilling how seeing this old place brought back to life makes me feel like I’m back in time. Business as usual, Micah and Austin watch the door, patting down men and woman as they walk into the dimly lit strip club. Girls are dancing on the stage, dancing on the tables, pulling guys off into the back rooms for ‘lap dances’. Everyone’s old ladies are doing their part, walking around in high heels and little black dresses serving drinks.
Every time I look over my shoulder, I almost half expect to see Esther standing there, watching over the place like a hawk, making sure things don’t go wrong. Now she’s probably watching above, thinking ‘these fucking idiots have no idea what they’re doing.’ She’s right. Even though the place is hopping, it’s nothing like it was back in its glory days. Without her to run the ranch, there’
s something seriously missing.
“Oh shit,” Gavin laughs, “Micah’s probably going to have a stroke.” His wife, Amber, struts out onstage in an orange leotard and the crowd goes nuts. I’d probably be laughing too, if I could calm the fuck down.
“See, Tank,” Olive teases, poking him in the ribs, “Why can’t you be as confident as Micah? He lets his wife dance.”
“I mean this in the kindest way possible, Ollie,” Heat says, “but we’ve all seen you try to dance before, and your man is doing you a favor.” She laughs so hard she damn near falls over. I don’t know what we did to deserve this girl, but she’s one of the best damn things that ever happened to the club.
“Fuck,” I mutter, looking at the text from Helena. I know shit’s getting close to going down, but I’m starting to get really fucking nervous. My entire crew is here. Are we going to be able to keep them safe from the storm we are knowingly bringing down upon them?
“ETA twenty minutes,” I say to Gavin. “It’s about to pop off.”
We stand there in silence, trying not to stare at Micah’s wife onstage, swinging around on the pole, but there’s really nothing else we can do right now. We’re armed. We’re ready as we can be.
“You want me to go make sure Gina’s dressed?” Olive asks. I send her off, scanning the crowd for the agents and officers that have been planted in the club. They all have their phones out and are texting away. They must’ve got the message, too.
The air starts to feel heavy, and everything is moving in slow motion. I try to picture Helena riding along with her partner, pretending like it’s another normal day. I hope they don’t find her out before I can keep her safe.
“I’m gonna go get some air,” I say to Gavin. I push my way out into the parking lot, crouching down by the bushes, fishing a joint out of my pocket and firing it up. I try to tune out the blaring music from inside, the only sound I want to hear is the sound of sirens. I train my eyes on the road, waiting for the flashing lights. My heart is pounding faster and faster, my hands shaking.
I don’t care what the hell is about to happen. If she’s not safe at the end of the day, none of this matters. Nobody needs to lose their lives to prove a point. Esther wouldn’t have wanted any of this. My heart still races, rage pumping through my veins, all the fresh air in the world isn’t enough to make me feel like I can breathe.
And that’s when the explosions start.
Two loud booms, the sound of breaking glass, the smell of smoke, screaming ringing through my ears as people start stampeding through the open doors, busting open the windows, people everywhere tripping over each other as the clubhouse goes up in flames.
I run towards the burning building, smoke billowing from the roof up into the starlit sky above, red all around me. Red flames, red blood running from the faces of men and women as they take off across the parking lot, dragging bodies along with them. Red police lights, flashing in the parking lot as the three cruisers speed through the gravel and people dive out of the way.
“What the fuck happened?” I shout, running towards Gavin. He’s so shocked, he’s just moving his lips, his head nodding back and forth as he scans the crowd. “Get everyone together,” I say. “Dancers, brothers, old ladies, get ’em all over to the shed so we can figure out who’s missing.”
“Brooks!” Helena screams over the crowd. I can’t say that anything could bring me relief as I watch our clubhouse burn to the ground, our clubhouse that was stuffed to the brim with everyone we know, and for no obvious reason, but the sound of her voice at least takes the edge off.
“Call a firetruck!” I shout. “Call somebody!” We Misfits handle our own problems, but I’m not letting anyone die tonight because I’m too stubborn to call an ambulance. We’re going to need all the help we can get.
I watch her nod and sprint back to her cruiser.
“Building looks clear,” the undercover agent shouts to Gene as he makes his way out the door. “Main room, side rooms, only place we couldn’t get to was backstage. Someone needs to cover the side exit. Perp isn’t in custody yet.”
Of course there’s a perp, and whoever it is was trying to cause the most amount of damage possible. It wasn’t faulty wiring or a misplaced cigarette butt that made that explosion. Somebody bombed us. Somebody wanted all of us dead, and I had a pretty good feeling who it was.
I sprint to the side door, the emergency exit behind the stage. I push through the row of plainclothes cops with their guns drawn. I don’t care if they shoot me, too. I’m going to kill her with my bare hands.
Chapter 33
Helena
“Don’t you dare touch that fucking radio,” Chief Sanderson says to me, grabbing my arm as I reach through the squad car window.
Why the hell is Dean just standing here with his hands in his pockets? This wasn’t part of the plan.
I kick the chief right between the legs, hard enough that I hear him start to dry heave. I don’t give a fuck if he finds out who I am now. I don’t know how many are injured, if anyone got killed, hell, I don’t know what even just happened here. I thought we were going to stop this madness before he even got in the door, disarm him, and get a confession out of him. Instead, the clubhouse is burning to the ground in front of my eyes.
“I need backup. Firetrucks. Ambulances. Everything you got. Misfit Mountain,” I shout into the receiver.
“What the hell is your problem, Helena,” the chief shouts, trying to push himself up off the ground. “I told you to let it burn. By the time the trucks get up here, it’s already going to be too late. This place and all the heathens in it are going to be exactly where they belong.”
“Your daughter is in there, you asshole,” I shout. “She’s one of them! You want her to burn up with the rest of them?”
Before I can bat an eye, he’s got his pistol trained right at my head. I gasp, putting my hands in the air.
“My daughter is the one who set the bombs off, you dumb cow; now get in the fucking car and stay put. Don’t think I won’t shoot your ass down like I did to your boyfriend’s wife.” He looks like a crazed maniac, the hatred in his eyes more frightening than the gun aimed at my face. I never told him I was with Brooks. I did everything I could to keep my tracks covered. Who ratted me out?
I slowly open the car door, making sure my hands are visible the entire time. It doesn’t matter. Before I can get in, he’s being tackled to the ground by Dean. Him and another agent are cuffing him. He’s being read his rights. Even though this was the moment we’ve all been waiting for, I can’t delight in it, not while all these people are suffering. Not while I have no idea where Brooks got to or if he’s safe.
“Lena! Lena!” Olive comes running at me, her high heels wobbling in the gravel, her face blackened with soot. She’s bawling so hard she can barely talk, choking on her tears as she grabs me by the arm. “Help us!” she screams. “Tank’s missing! Jasmine’s missing! Somebody needs to go in there and get them.”
I know the story of Olive very well, the loss that she’s been through, more loss than any woman, especially one as kind as her, should have to endure. I take off sprinting for the clubhouse, now nearly engulfed in flames.
“No!” she cries. “Not you!”
I pretend like I can’t hear her. Why is my life more valuable than anyone else’s here. These agents were set up. These people who all came to help are now huddled up, crying, trying to make sure everyone is accounted for while they nurse the injured. I’ve never seen anything like this before in my life. Everything is moving in slow motion, even though I’m sprinting harder than I’ve ever run before, pushing people out of the way, listening to Olive cry my name over and over.
If I ever needed you, Esther, now’s the time, I think, calling on the very woman I was trying to save. Now it’s her turn. The door is already broken down, and I cling to the wall, pulling my shirt up over my mouth as I feel the smoke burn my eyes.
I pray as hard as I’ve ever prayed before, calling for God, ca
lling for Esther, calling out the name of every deity I’ve ever once read about in a history book. I pray that they’re not in the east wing of the building as a giant flaming beam crashes to the floor, taking out every single room that the girls would give private lap dances in.
Maybe it’s the smoke inhalation, maybe I’m hallucinating, but cold air ensconces me, leading me in a straight line, pushing me towards the dressing room, the backstage. I hear their pained wails. “HELP!” Tank screams. “Please! Open the door!”
I don’t know what I’m looking at as I make my way into the only room in the building that’s not billowing with smoke. I feel my guts begin to churn as I trip over what can only be described as Gina’s remains, her body so shredded from the shrapnel of whatever bomb she deployed that she’s mostly just torso and head. So much blood. So much destruction.
I gasp when I see Jasmine’s body draped over Tank’s shoulder. He’s got a tourniquet wrapped around what’s left of her right leg, but blood still sprays from it as she screams this primal yell, the most haunting sound I’ve ever heard in my life.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “How can I help?”
“The door is jammed,” Tank says, ramming his entire body up against the big stainless-steel door. “Help!” he screams, as he pounds his fist against it, “Open the fucking door!”
The room quickly begins to fill with smoke. The corridor is windowless, the power flickering off, as the three of us scream at the top of our lungs, Tank and I pounding and kicking down the door. I reach for my pistol, but it’s not there.
“We can try the other door,” I say, but the room is pitch-black. The smoke is getting closer. I pound and pound but I feel my lungs filling up with smoke. It’s getting harder to breathe. It’s getting harder to move. The last thing I remember is the draft of cold air washing over my body, Brooks screaming “I’m coming for you,” and Tank grabbing me by my arm and flinging me damn near across the room as I fall to the ground in a heap, my mind going blank.