by Kerri Ann
Pawn
The Broken Bows, Volume 2
Kerri Ann
Published by Kerri Ann, 2018.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
PAWN
First edition. August 23, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 Kerri Ann.
ISBN: 978-1386077053
Written by Kerri Ann.
Also by Kerri Ann
Restless Souls MC
Queen
Knight (Coming Soon)
The Broken Bows
King
Pawn
Bishop's Play (Coming Soon)
Rook, A Prequel Novella
Watch for more at Kerri Ann’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Kerri Ann
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
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Further Reading: Crashed
Also By Kerri Ann
About the Author
This has to be the hardest part. How do you conclude the care and love from everyone in a short page? Friends, family and even strangers contribute to a book. A word can give you an idea, a single thought a whole book.
As always though, thank you for your friendships, your love of reading, and the time you take to help me along this journey.
Chapter One
Busta
“Why isn’t someone doing something?” I shout.
Seething mad at the imbecilic prospects and fearful members that surround me, I race like the chariots of hell are on my heels. Arriving to a fucking catastrophe, I move swiftly to the front doors, just as Miss strolls out with Smart. Miss’s shirt is freshly stained with blood, and a bandage is visible just below his right shoulder.
“You good, brother?” I ask Miss.
“Yeah. Fuckin’ flesh wound. I’ve had worse.” He winces slightly as he rolls his shoulder around.
Hearing the rundown of what happened, and knowing that Miss survived a run-in with Strike, Smart comments tentatively, “Sorry, Busta. We didn’t know what to do. We weren’t allowed to ride along to the hospital because the fucking cops blocked the street and kept us for questioning.”
“’Course they did.” I look around. “Where’s Scarlet? Did she go with the ambo?” I ask, knowing she should be by True and Strike’s sides. They’ve been lovers, family, and friends since they were teens.
Taking a step back, Smart shakes his head. “She went with True to the parish, but since then, she’s disappeared.”
Flight gives me the rundown. It seems that after I’d left, True and Strike had a heated conversation. Miss pissed off Strike, causing him to shoot a bolt through his shoulder. Strike then took off down the street with his famous bow in tow.
It seems that True played his brother, and as always, Scarlet was at the center of it all.
Now both brothers are at the hospital in critical condition, fighting for their lives, which leaves me as acting Pres. Something I’m sure was orchestrated by King in some twisted way.
Everything is going wrong. “This is a major fucking mess!”
Hearing Miss mutter his agreement, I rake my hand through my thick beard. I’m beyond frustrated. I’m set to commit murder.
“Going after the VP’s family was just stupid. True knew better,” Miss states. Regret is useless, especially seeing that it’s so close to the truth.
Magnus King had his hand in this; I’m sure of it.
Palming the grip of my gun, it calls for me to fire at anything that moves. I’m reaching my limit of giving any fucks today.
“Busta, another thing. There was a note at the front gates.” Smart reaches into his cut and pulls it out. Handing it over to me, I flip it over and read.
King said to say ‘Hi’.
Death
He’s working with King?
I swear, if Death had something to do with this power change, nothing will stop me from raining hell down on him. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt right now, because in my gut I suspect King is behind it all. Death and I had a truce, an understanding—and if he’s balled up in this bag of shit, no one in the Horsemen will be left standing.
“Mount up,” I say, straddling my bike.
Hitting the throttle, I don’t turn to see if others are behind me; I know they are.
Riding as fast as I can to the hospital, I think of everything as I attempt to un-puzzle this mess. This all happened over True fucking with the status quo.
Don’t fuck with family.
Don’t steal from your own yard.
Don’t break bread with the man you offered peace to then stab him in the back.
True fucked this shit up.
And King? King is trying my patience.
Knowing I shouldn’t have called him is hindsight. I can’t do a thing about it now. I should’ve found my own way to help Oubliette and Jasmine. There are always two ways to fix things, and I fucked it further without even trying.
God dammit!
I knew there was something wrong with how fast King answered the call. He offered to help all to easily. I knew it smelled fuckin’ wrong.
I should’ve gone with my gut.
He’ll pay in blood if it’s the last thing I do. They all will. The Four Horsemen for the attack on True and Strike. The Heartless Bastards that jumped our supply, leaving Diesel in a coma, and the fucking DEA who put me in this position over ten years ago— in that order.
Though that cunt, Magnus King, will feel this the most.
He’s going to pay.
Chapter Two
Busta
I hit the hospital parking lot with five brothers behind me. Two will be stationed with True and Strike, and two are for me. I didn’t get much of a choice in it. They’re here because I supposedly need protection now.
As the acting head of our club, I could’ve waved them off. I didn’t, though. Thing is, after the meet with King, I have the feeling we shouldn’t travel light anywhere. He’s still planning something, that sick fuck.
Pulling in and parking, I see this is a moment of homemade chaos. Four bikes—two I instantly recognize as Horsemen, and a transport van.
“True, remember?” Flight pipes up. “I hear Curse was at his brother-in-law’s shop, protecting his family. He took a big hit trying to cover his niece and sister.”
Fucki
ng up family always leads to bigger problems. Families are off-limits, and this is why. You find it back on your own doorstep.
Leaving my bike, I start for the door. “Keep on your guard then, boys.”
Arriving at the desk, the tiny woman behind it goes still. “I’m looking for two men that were brought in, Bracken and Kyden Madox. Could you give me their statuses?”
Clearing her throat, she asks, “Are you family?”
“The closest they’ve got.” With DG dead, I’m it.
“So that’s a no.”
I’m losing my patience. I don’t have time for bullshit today. “Sweetheart, tell me where they’re at while I’m still calm. Last thing you want to be is the person who tells me no today.”
“Is there a problem here?” Another woman pipes up. Tall, dark, and in control—obviously. She stands with her arms crossed over her chest.
“I need to know where the Madox brothers are.” Leaning on the counter, staring her down, her stance remains defiant, so I continue. “I can tear this place down, or you can give me what I want, now.”
Her stubbornness reminds me of my mother. Jet-black hair pulled tight to her scalp in a bun, wide hoop earrings, understated make-up, but overstated outfit, she knows she’s in charge and expects me to bend. “You bikers don’t scare me. You’re not the first, and you’re definitely not the first today to come at me.”
Laying my piece on the desk, I grin. “I’ll find them myself then, shall I?”
There are Horsemen here. I’d normally leave my piece in the side bag, but with them in the same vicinity, I made sure we came locked and loaded.
Death and I had an understanding, but after this mess, that shit is out the window. I trust he cares for his club as much as I do mine.
Taking a step back, she changes her tone quick. “Second floor. ICU wing.”
“Good choice, lady.” Turning to the boys, I place my gun back in my waistband. “You heard the woman. Let’s go.”
Walking down the hall, we’re given hard looks. People step to the side as we pass, and we stay alert. Two floors later, arriving at ICU, three Horsemen are standing by a doorway. Death recognizes me immediately.
Giving me a look full of malice and contempt, he yells, “You!” Rising off the wall, he starts toward me. “You better turn right back the way you came, Busta. My patience is short after today.”
I don’t answer him but continue on toward the ICU desk. I came for my club, and him pissing a line in the sand won’t stop me. Turning to the frightened little woman behind the desk, I bark out, “Kyden and Bracken Madox. What are their conditions?”
Checking her paperwork, she looks up at me. “Both are in surgery, but it’s not good.”
Shit.
“I hope that piece of shit dies,” Death comments rather loudly, trying my patience of diplomacy. He and his boys are a few doors down, and the space between us suits me just fine. But if he walks down while I’m dealing with this, I can’t be sure we won’t throw down.
In all honesty, I feel for Death. This has to be pulling him apart. I never thought of him as a bad guy, but I won’t show fear or back down if he starts something.
“Fucking True. If this is the way he wants to run his club, he best be ready for a fucking blood bath.”
Can’t say I disagree. True crossed the line, going after Death's sister and holding Oubliette. I won’t mention it if Death doesn’t. If the girls haven’t spoken about it, it’s not mine to start a fire with.
“How is he?” I ask, sincerely concerned for Curse.
Grinding his teeth, he steps close. “Did you have anything to do with it, Busta?”
Calmly, I uncross my own arms and relax slightly. Death’s stance is on guard but deflating as I answer, “Nah. I wasn’t involved.”
He’s a big guy too, just like me. At almost six four, black hair—long and tied back at the nape—his native heritage is apparent. I think it would be a good fight.
Stepping down the hall until he’s no more than ten feet away, he chirps, “You held my sister.” He’s pissed, and rightly so.
“Again, not my call.”
Inspecting me for a lie, I know the moment he’s satisfied with the answer. I fixed it, not fucked it. I can’t tell him that or I’d blow it all. For now, vague answers will have to do.
Changing subjects, his voice is calmer. “This is a bad way for you to gain the gavel, Busta.”
As I take a step forward, moving slowly, his boys take a defensive stance. Waving it off, he tells his boys to stay. They’re fearful of leaving him alone, but so are mine. I turn to Flight and the others. “Stay here. I’ll be fine.”
Flight isn’t as certain as I am. Gripping my arm, I look to his hand, and then at the man. Flight is close to my size. He’s a good fighter, but not near dirty enough to take me down. My road name is Busta for a reason, and I doubt he wants to get a firsthand experience today. I’ll flatten his ass with the mood I’m in.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says with trepidation.
“Flight. Stay here.”
“Pres—” he tries, then stops.
Walking away from the nervous bitch, I come face-to-face with Death. He sticks a hand out, looking for me to shake on it, to show there’s no deceit.
“Swear on your cut that you’ve got nothing to do with what happened.”
Without hesitation, I grasp it. “I had nothing to do with Curse or his family.”
“You didn’t stop True from going on the attack, though.” His grip is tight, and his features show the anger that’s seething just under the surface.
“I guess not.” No use in arguing the point. He’s right.
Just like with the Bows and the flesh trade, I’ve lied to myself that I was legit. At least more legit than the Cruel Intentions had been. That staying out of the darker parts of the Bows, I wasn’t causing harm directly. Until Obi, I hadn’t admitted it. I’d let it continue. I could’ve stopped it at any time.
The truth is, I’d gone through the motions because I’d had an out all along, I just didn’t choose it. No one else in the Bows has been given the opportunity to choose, but now I have a chance to take the Bows legit, if just for a while. Now I just have to figure a way out of the mess with King.
Releasing my hand, he crosses his arms. “So, do we just fight it out in the hall or find a solution?”
Leaning on the opposite wall, I cross my feet and consider the best course of action. “Both of us lost membership today, so I’d say solutions are best. Don’t you agree?”
“Only if you tell me the story about my sister and Oubliette. I need the air clear on that shit. Jasmine said you were the one holding them—”
“I was there. Let’s just say there were complications, and that eventually they found their way to freedom.” I can’t say more without giving away information that he’s not privy to, but it should be enough to calm his need for answers.
Pleased with that, Death nods. “We need to sort out some things. I think we need a meet.” He turns his eyes toward the brothers listening in. “Alone.”
Looking down the hall, past the nurse’s station, I see the sign for a safe area where we can talk without interruptions. “Chapel?”
“No time like the present then.” Motioning for me to lead, we walk off from our men to settle this between our clubs. A short-term truce is better than further bloodshed.
Chapter Three
Busta
We’d been standing in the silent rectory for ten minutes before others that were using the space cleared as two very large, very mean looking bikers in cuts waltzed in, ending their peaceful prayers.
Finally taking a seat, the pew groans under Death’s weight. “You’d best believe Oubliette makes the best fucking drinks I’ve ever tasted, and while she acts tough as nails, something broke her.”
It broke me too. He has no idea that I’d rather die than harm her, but he may figure it out.
I thought I could handle the things
we do. I thought I was tough enough to turn a blind eye and continue without comment or concern. Not so. My facade has cracked, and the little blonde with defiance in her eyes is who chipped it away.
“How is she?” I truly want to know.
Leaning his head in his hands, he sits forward. “Honestly? I can’t look her in the eye. I’m tortured by the strength she possesses every time I see the bandages and the hand marks. I’ve had a soft spot for that cute little girl ever since she walked through our door. Her long blonde hair, that hippie attire, and the fearless way she puts everyone in their place. I tell ya, I’ve always thought she was too sweet for our world. Definitely shocks me how she’s handled all this.”
Obi isn’t someone I would have expected in the ‘hold your own’ category, but she does. Maybe she’d make a great old lady?
Shaking off the thought, I decide to give him the truth, and how it all started with her seeing True’s cold-blooded murder of his half-sister. By the time I’m done, Death’s even more upset. He had no love for Crystal, but she didn’t deserve the pain and agony that her own family put her through.
Standing up and pacing back and forth, he finally calms enough to speak. “That’s some fucked-up trash that leads your club. If I’m being honest, I think it needs new leadership.”
Finding that comment almost the same as King’s, I inquire, “What’s he got on you?”
Death turns to me. “Who, True? That piece of shit. He’s got nothin’ on me.”
I stand, grinding out the only name that matters, “King.”
The look that crosses his features tells me the truth faster than any answer could. He owes him something too.
He rakes a hand through his beard, as if contemplating on how to proceed: Lie, or tell the truth. “He has his fingers in a lot of pockets it seems.”
Sitting back down on the pew, I recline comfortably and smile. “I think we have a common goal.”
He takes a seat opposite of me. “Let’s talk.”
Chapter Four