Rogue's Retribution: Twisted Iron MC

by Liberty Parker

  “They’re here,” he issues, causing my eyes to widen, “they’re ready, waiting and guarding the exit to the tunnel you have. It’s genius, that addition you made and perfect for the women and children to most likely go undetected as they leave.”

  “Already, though? What about supplies, Gunner? For the babies? Fuck, Bella’s not even here yet,” I frantically pop off.

  “These men will take care of all that. You’re just gonna have to trust me on this. As for Bella, you’re on your own,” he informs me before turning to walk toward Rory who’s still mingling with Harmony.

  Fucking hell! Digging my cell out of my pocket, I try to reach Bella first with no luck. This feels too similar to the past and I promise that if they don’t make it here safely, heads will roll. The women begin leaving their men as they all walk as a singular unit, protective of one another. Outlaw rushes to me. “I love you, Daddy,” she admits with watery eyes and Melodi on her hip. “Be safe and we’ll see you soon. Promise me that?” I nod, choked up and lean in to place a kiss on top of both her and my grandbaby’s heads.

  “I promise, now go,” I command, needing her to get somewhere safe quickly.

  “Where’s Bella?” she inquires, concern covering her face.

  “She’ll be here. Just go, Outlaw,” I answer, as I begin dialing PeeWee and she nods before turning and walking away from me until the only people remaining are my brothers, Gunner, and Rory.

  “Goddammit, PeeWee, answer your phone you fuck!” My roaring words gain the attention of the room and I can feel the air and energy swiftly shift. Multiple times they watch as I attempt to make contact with both, and each time, slowly losing more of my sanity. No, not again. This can’t be happening again.

  “I’ll try,” Bane offers, knowing I’m losing my grip on reality and now couldn’t be a more inconvenient time.

  “Is it Bella?” Rory asks, surprising me, as he jogs up to me.

  “Neither she nor her detail are answering and I just… fuck!” I go to toss my phone and Rory grabs my arm.

  When our eyes meet, his grow large, realizing what he’s just done, but he doesn’t let go. “If you break it, you’ll miss their call back.”

  “The women and children all made it into the armored vehicles safely and are off the premises,” Gunner advises, pocketing his cell.

  Rory audibly gulps as he lets go of my arm. “What the fuck, man?” I rush to Gunner. “And Bella?”

  “Not accounted for. Look, my men just landed. We still have plans to make. You also have time to go and get her yourself. I’ll have one of the vehicles come back for her,” he offers.

  “I’ll go with you, Pres,” Merc offers and I nod.

  “Not without me,” Pyro adds.

  “One rides, we all ride,” Sandman says, stuffing his piece behind his back, into his jeans.

  “Fine, but the rest of you stay here in case they show up,” I demand, grabbing my keys.

  With my brothers hot on my heels, I open the door and hear the purr of a motorcycle closing in and notice the beam of headlights as Bella pulls into the parking lot with PeeWee behind her.

  Relief washes over me, but these two better have a damn good reason why they weren’t answering. As they park, I walk toward Bella. As she steps out of her car, I ask, “What in the actual fuck, woman? Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

  “I never heard it ring.” She begins digging through that bottomless pit she calls a purse as PeeWee approaches.

  “And you! What’s your excuse for not answering my call? Surely you had your earpiece connected as you were riding?” I angrily question.

  “Of course, I did. It’s right here.” He pulls it from his front pocket to show me and as he looks at it, his expression changes. “This isn’t mine. Mine doesn’t have this tiny red blinking dot in that place.” He brings it in closer for examination. “What the fuck?”

  The words barely leave his lips and what sounds like a tiny missile zips in the wind before he clutches his shoulder, falling to the ground and I hear more. “Shots fired! We’re under attack! Everyone take cover!” I order, while simultaneously reaching out, grabbing Bella to take into my body to shield. As I grab her, her body goes limp in my arms as I watch her eyes roll back. I can feel a puddle of warmth begin to coat my clothing. “Oh, no. No, no, no,” I beg relentlessly as I drag her to the clubhouse and back inside, barely noticing Gunner and Rory holding the door for me as they fire back.

  “I’ve got PeeWee,” I hear Pyro’s muffled voice behind me. “He’s coming to. Bleeding, but waking up. I think the impact knocked him off his feet and he hit his head hard when he fell. Yup, there’s some blood there, too,” he finishes as I can only guess that he’s checked; my eyes haven’t left my woman.

  “Wake up, Bella,” I demand of her, laying her on the floor beneath me unconscious.

  “Somebody help me get her to the hospital,” Stitches intervenes, ripping his shirt free from his body, holding pressure on her wound.

  “On it! Our best chance is going out the back if I have to guess,” Fox declares.

  “Pres, we’ve got to get her better help than I can offer her here. I can do a lot of things, but as experienced as I am, she’s declining quickly,” Stitches’ words echo around me.

  It feels like each second is an eternity, and I’m unsure if I wanna let her go. We never got to reach our conclusion and my last words to her were hate-filled. “Pres?” I can sense the urgency in Fox’s tone, encouraging me, but I’m terrified of letting go.

  “We’re outnumbered,” Gunner informs me of the obvious, “but backup is almost here.”

  Glass shatters somewhere behind me as bullets breach their way through them aimed at our heads. No. More. Ever. Again. “Take her,” I kiss her pale lips before handing her over to Stitches and Fox. It’s not ideal, but they damn near drag her across the floor to keep her body as low and out of the line of fire as possible. Now, I just have to rely on faith that she’ll make it through this. Because now, my thirst for blood and vengeance has never been stronger.

  “Spread out!” I holler from the floor as I remove the safety from both my pistols. “Kill all these motherfuckers! And when you think they’re dead, kill them again!” My brothers scurry, relocating to various places for better views and blocking any entrances.

  A shot from within these walls is fired and I notice it was Gunner taking out some asshole nearing the front door. “Two o’clock, Rogue,” he yells.

  The second he says this I aim and once I see the slightest movement I fire and watch as a body drops outside of my office window.

  “Not today, motherfuckers!” I hear Pyro roar; looking back I notice he’s got the flame thrower. Opening the back door, he has the element of surprise as he lights three men up, charring their screaming bodies as they go up in flames. Maniacally, he laughs.

  This exchange between us and them comes to an abrupt halt and with only a fleeting moment of silence in between, the sounds of chaos seem to be centered around the outside of the building. Screeching tires, explosions, and gunshots. “My men have arrived,” Gunner announces.

  Crouching down, I survey the common room and give the okay for my brothers to go and assist. As we make our way outside, the focus is now between Steel Empire and the Death Destructorz and it’s a good thing we recognize friend from foe due to our cut colors. With the enormous amount of mayhem, I’m constantly shifting my focus and gun.

  “Rogue, is it?” I hear from behind as the barrel of a gun makes contact with the back of my head. I wanna fight back but I’m a goner. He can pull the trigger faster than I can blink and I’m fully aware that this is where my life ends as I close my eyes in surrender.

  “Not today, motherfucker!” is violently roared behind me as more blood spatters over my backside and the top of my head; drenching me. As the plop of a body can be felt and heard behind me, I turn to see Rory standing there coated in the same. “He promised Harmony and Melodi.” He kicks the nearly decapitated man while
yielding a machete. He’s shaking, and I can tell this is most likely his first kill.

  “It’s over, you fucks! Never again will you harm a single hair on any member from either of these clubs!” Pyros roars, blasting his flame one last time, as the silence begins.

  Gunner walks up to me, both hands still tightly gripping his guns. Bane, on the heels of his feet, also makes his way over to me. When he gets closer, his eyes widen comically as he takes in my appearance. “You good, Pres?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. Thought I was toast there for a minute, but my boy saved my life,” I explain as Bane gives Rory a nod of approval.

  “You got yourself a cleanup crew?” Gunner breaks in and asks. “I have one but it’ll take them hours to get here; don’t think we have that amount of time.”

  “Yeah, we got one. Bane?” I look at him, indicating with my eyes for him to make the call.

  “On it,” he supplies as he pulls out his phone and walks away from where we're standing.

  I too pull out my phone to check and see if I have any text messages updating me on Bella’s state. I have one from Fox and am instantly angered from what I read.

  Fox: Bella’s been rushed into the ER. They’re working on her, but won’t give me any updates since I’m not her immediate family. I’ll let you know if I find out more. Stitches is getting his credentials verified so that he can go back and check on her.

  Rogue: Be there soon.

  Swiveling around on the heel of my feet, I look for Rory, he’ll be the only one who has a standing chance in Hades of getting me the information I want when it comes to my woman and her prognosis. Finding him standing off to the side, a glazed look in his eyes, I take him all in remembering the feeling I had earlier that this was his first kill. The first one is always the hardest to swallow.

  “Rory!” I call out his name, snapping him out of his stupor. When his eyes connect with mine, I gesture him to me with the wave of my hand. He’s not far away physically, but emotionally, he’s distanced himself miles away from here.

  “What’s up? Is it Mom, have you heard anything?” he quickly spits out the questions as his hands squeeze open and shut as he awaits my answer.

  “Got a text from Fox, she’s been taken back but they won’t tell him anything seeing as he’s not her blood family. We need to go,” I issue, earning me an eager nod from him.

  “I’ll stay here and make sure everything gets put back to rights,” Gunner states, overhearing our conversation.

  “Appreciate it,” I gratefully reply as I wrap my arm around Rory’s shoulder and lead him away from the gruesome scene surrounding us. Quickly, we shower and change inside the clubhouse before we make our way to our bikes and I thank the good man above that they’re still in one, operable piece. A few nicks and scratches here and there, but nothing that’ll keep me from riding to the hospital.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rogue

  When we rush through the emergency room entrance, we come upon another battle taking place. Stitches is arguing with a man in a white jacket. “Those are my patients and I want an update on their condition.” He’s seething, and I know that the mild-mannered club doctor is fixing to show them why it is he’s a valued member of Twisted Iron.

  “What’s going on here?” I question as I stroll up and interrupt whatever it is the doctor was fixing to say.

  “This man.” Fox points an accusing finger in the white coat man’s direction. “Is refusing to give Stitches information on Bella and PeeWee’s condition. He’s proven his status, and has repeatedly informed him that they’re his patients, yet the dumb fuck refuses to release confidential information.” If this were a comical moment, I’d be laughing my ass off at the expressions Fox is wearing during his explanation to me. Apparently, at some point during dodging bullets, these two also managed to escape unscathed with PeeWee in tow.

  “Is that so?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “So, you won’t tell my old lady’s doctor about her well-being? How about me, care to share?” I ask, using my intimidating voice that gets my men to jump when I use it.

  “A-are you her husband?” he stammers out, as he begins looking around. For security I presume, not that it’ll do him any good, they’re in my pocket too.

  “If you’re asking if we have a piece of paper signed, uniting us in the eyes of God, the answer would be negative, but, if you're asking if she’s mine, that answer would be yes.”

  “Which still doesn’t give me legal permission to speak with you,” he insist.

  “What about her son?” Rory pipes up and asks the doctor. “Would you be willing to give him that information?”

  “If she had a son, then yes, I would,” he supplies.

  “Then talk!” Rory finally loses his composure and yells out.

  “You’re her son?” the fucker pesters Rory by asking. Next thing I know, Rory has him by the lapels of his jacket and has him plastered to the wall.

  “I’m her son, that’s my dad,” he indicates with a tilt of his head in my direction. “And he’s getting pissed so I’d advise you to fucking speak,” he intimidatingly growls.

  “And,” Fox interrupts, “let’s just say for your safety, that the other patient is my brother. Tell us all of it, doc,” Fox insists, without any mirth laced in his voice. Seems Fox has found a situation that doesn’t need to be compiled with his jestering antics.

  “Let him go, son,” I order Rory, not wanting my boy to go to jail for assaulting the annoying as fuck doctor. Plus, Bella would be fit-to-be-tied if she woke up and discovered he was visiting the local county jail. Not that I’d allow him to be caged for a long period of time… I own the cops in this town.

  Rory backs away from his prey and methodically begins to flatten the lapels he once had clenched in his fist. “Talk!” he roars, his tone contradicting his soothing like actions.

  “Is—” he begins only for me to hold my hand up, stopping him in his tracks before he continues with his predictably prepared speech that all doctors use while speaking with anxious family members.

  “Bella,” I correct, she hates her given name and insists that no one refers to her as such. She gets a little pissy if anyone uses it; even though she’s not here standing with us, I plan on abiding by her wishes.

  “Bella,” he repeats after clearing his throat.

  “He’s gonna piss his pants,” Fox declares in what I’m presuming was supposed to be a whispered secret between us, but unilaterally came out as anything but.

  The doctor good naturedly rolls his eyes before continuing on with his spiel. “We’ve placed Bella in a medically induced coma. We chose this course of action to give her body time to recover. When she woke briefly after surgery to remove the bullet, the physical pain appeared to be too much that it was sending her body into shock, which also is not uncommon when one suffers massive blood loss. We also gave her a blood transfusion. She sustained a gunshot wound to the side of her abdomen, which it was not a fatal wound thankfully in her case. But for the next few days to a week, we will be lowering or upping her dosages depending on how her body reacts.”

  “But she’ll be okay?” I can’t help but ask, needing him to express this out loud.

  “I can’t promise anything, but it looks good,” he informs me.

  “Don’t promise, make it happen,” Rory angrily spits out.

  “We’ll do what we can,” he dismissively answers, causing all of us men to let out some sort of growl in response to the way he just spoke to my son.

  “As for the other patient,” he begins.

  “PeeWee,” Fox supplies, daring him with a lasered glare to argue with the name provided.

  “Yes, Mr. PeeWee—”

  “Dear God, doc, it’s just PeeWee. Say it with me.” As soon as the last word leaves Fox’s mouth, I smack him in the back of the head and shush him with my presidential stare. “Shutting it now,” he answers, mimicking someone zipping their lips shut. I am now the one rolling my eyes, because I know that the
imaginary zipper isn’t going to keep his trap shut for long.

  “PeeWee.” The doc sarcastically says his name, “is in better shape than Bella is. He has a shoulder wound and a mild concussion along with a gash on the back of his head that required stitches. We’ll be keeping him overnight for observation. He’s alert and awake and should be able to receive visitors shortly. The nurses are getting him settled into a room right now and then you can see him. Any further questions for me?”

  “Yeah, where did you get your bedside manner, a Cracker Jack box?” I knew Fox wouldn’t be able to resist. What surprises me the most is Stitches chuckling. This doc really made an undisputable impression on him.

  “Is that all?” The doc sighs.

  “For now,” I answer as Rory comes up, standing protectively at my side in an intimidating pose. Yep, if there were any questions before about his paternity, there aren’t any more. He’s just like me.

  “My mom, when can we see her?” Rory asks before the doctor can scurry away.

  “A room is being prepped for her in the ICU. As soon as she’s settled, someone will come and get you.”

  No words of appreciation are shared as the fucker hauls ass out of the waiting room.

  It’s been a week since the attack happened on the club. Last night, they took Bella off the meds that were keeping her in the induced coma. Rory, Harmony and I have sat sentry at her bedside. None of us have willingly moved from her side unless we were showering or taking care of personal needs. It’d take an act of congress to get the three of us removed from her room. Stitches had a meeting with the board of directors after his treatment in the emergency department. Needless to say, with the money we contribute to the hospital, they started jumping through hoops to give us whatever we wanted. Which is why rules have been broken and three of us have been allowed to stay with her.

  Mercenary has been a daily, if not hourly, visitor; bringing us food, clothes and other necessities. It’s also in an attempt to see Harmony more than in passing. My granddaughter has been a light during this dark time. Merc has fought with my little girl on several occasions, wanting her to come home and rest. We’ve all tried, but my girl is determined to be here when Bella wakes. Her pregnancy and the baby’s safety has been a big thorn of contention between the two of them. He’s protective on a good day, but when she’s carrying his child, that instinct triples.