The Boy I Grew Up With

by Tijan

  Channing turned his head, checking on us as Lincoln dropped and began army-crawling to lie next to him. Congo did the same, but he went to the end, next to Chad. Channing gestured to his right, and I crawled there, Moose on my other side.

  “You okay?” Channing asked under his breath, leaning closer to me.

  I nodded, but I wasn’t. Or I wasn’t sure.

  In the early hours of the morning, when I’d normally be finishing closing Manny’s and going to bed, they were out crawling around in the hills. That shouldn’t have put a dagger of fear in my heart, but it did. I used to not want to know. Now I did, and I was even more terrified.

  This life was going to get Channing killed. We weren’t sneaking up on friends or family. We were sneaking up on a motorcycle club—one that did illegal shit.

  There’d be guns, drugs, whatever nightmare crap I could think up—it’d be there, and Channing was heading toward it. Not away.

  He was insane. They were all insane. I was insane.

  “Hey.” He touched my arm, scooting closer. We were lined up from shoulder to ankle, and he could’ve kissed me, but he only whispered, “You okay?”

  “No,” I hissed back.

  One of the guys started chuckling.

  “What’s going on?”

  I glared at him, or I tried. There wasn’t much distance between our faces, and as I was glaring, he started smirking. His lips were going to touch mine. He would distract me then, push out all the cold and rational fear in me—because it was rational. The fact that he wasn’t scared was irrational.

  He was the insane one—and I was repeating myself. My fear had put me on a loop.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me. This is messed up, Channing.”

  One of the guys whispered from our left, “Channing’s in trouble tonight.”

  Another said, “I’m thinking Channing’s going to get a spanking.”

  A third laughed. “Are you kidding me? He’s going to eat that shit up. Spank away. You can spank me too, Heather.”

  “Shut it!” Channing lifted up, glaring at both ends of the line.

  I had recognized that last voice. “I’m going to make you eat shit, Congo. Just wait and see.”

  Moose started laughing. “Congo, you dumbass. She burned down a barn-dance hall because she got pissed. What do you think she’s going to do to you?”

  “Jax isn’t one I’d want to piss off.” That was Chad.

  I liked Chad, even if he was a little more nuts than the rest. “Thank you, Chad.”

  “Got you covered, Heather. And I was not one of the ones being disrespectful just now. Just making sure you know that.”

  “Oh, I do.” I raised my voice, just a little. “I’m fully aware which assholes are going to get laxatives in their food when they come to Manny’s one day.”

  One of the guys groaned. “I forgot Jax isn’t like other girls. She’s vengeful and she follows through.”

  The second voice that had piped in earlier added, “We missed you, Jax. Why’ve you been away so long?”

  It’d been high school since I’d tagged along with the crew. As the guys were talking, memories of old times came back to me—when this was just our group of friends doing stupid shit together, when it wasn’t an official crew activity, just a prank or a time we were getting back at Fallen Crest people, or following the Broudou brothers and hoping to make their lives hell.

  I met Channing’s gaze, and it was as if he was there with me, remembering too, because his eyes softened. He reached over and brushed a strand of hair from my face.

  His forehead rested against mine and he whispered, quietly for only me to hear, “It’s good to have you back.”

  His lips touched mine, but only briefly, and he pressed a second kiss to my forehead.

  I squeezed his hand before he rolled away.

  It was good to be back. It was also terrifying, and I’m pretty sure I’d be jonesing for a cig every time I was with the crew, but it was good. It felt like a piece of me had fit back into place.

  “Hey,” Moose spoke up. “They’re moving.”

  I hadn’t even looked at what we were scoping out. It was a warehouse, similar to Channing’s, but with another building next to it. A trailer sat at one end, along with a small house. A metal fence ran around the entire place, and a light had turned on, illuminating the front yard area.

  One of the large warehouse doors rolled up, and a train of motorcycles pulled out, with no headlights on.

  They didn’t rev their engines—just a soft purr as they rolled out, one after another. The front man raised his arm, and the perimeter fence began rolling backward. They had it all set up on an electrical feed, and he started through. They went past us, probably twenty feet to the left.

  I panicked for a second, wondering if they’d find our trucks, but then I remembered we’d pulled up to a tree line and left them within the woods. They were hidden.

  After the last rider left, the fence closed, and the front yard light went off. At least one person was still in there.

  Moose said over my head, “That was Richter.”

  “I didn’t see Traverse, or Connelly,” Lincoln added.

  Channing was still studying the compound, his jaw clenched. “I didn’t see any of the guys loyal to them.”

  An unsettled air lingered over everyone. Channing had filled me in earlier so I knew that wasn’t a good sign. The guys who were supposed to help them weren’t anywhere.

  Moose finally asked, “You think they’re dead?”

  No one wanted to answer that question, but after a slight pause, Channing shook his head.

  “I don’t know.” He pushed himself up. “But I’m going to make sure they’re not in there.”

  The rest started to stand. He motioned for them to stop. “No. Stay. I’ll go in alone.”

  I sat up. “Like hell you will.”

  Lincoln stood too. “I’ll go with him.”

  I knew Channing could fight. I’d never seen Lincoln in a fight.

  He nodded to me. “I won’t let anything happen to him. Promise.”

  Channing came over, bending so his forehead touched mine again. His hands found my face and he whispered, “I’ll be fine, but I have to look. I have to.”

  This was what I hated about the crew life, but I nodded. He was going anyway. I’d rather him go with a clear head than one clouded, knowing I was upset.

  As he started to pull away, I grabbed him and crushed my lips to his. “You fucking come back to me. You hear?”

  “I hear.” He wore a proud grin, and he kissed me again, softer this time. “I promise.”

  The two left, blending in with what shadows we could see as they approached the compound.

  Chad moved over, taking the spot Channing left behind. Congo followed him.

  “If anyone can handle themselves in there, it’s those two.” Chad tried to reassure me. “They’ll be fine.”

  Moose growled, “And if not, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  I grunted. From the both of us.

  We quieted and waited until we saw them appear in front of the fence. One of them threw a stick at it. There was no spark. It wasn’t electrified. Both clambered up and over with an ease that surprised me. They darted across the yard, going to a side door, and were inside.

  “Why didn’t they lock the doors?” Congo asked.

  “Because their compound is in the middle of nowhere,” Moose answered. “Probably don’t think anyone would have the balls to go in.”

  The next moments took years from me.

  I didn’t know what Channing was doing. I didn’t know who else was in there.

  I didn’t know if they had guns. I didn’t know if someone would attack with a knife.

  No lights were on, so they were moving in the dark.

  All I knew was that Channing could fight. He was the champion of Roussou’s underground, but I also knew I was ready to tear into them, with my bare hands if necessary. Every second I waited was a life
time.

  The asshole.

  He went in there with only one friend.

  He left us all out here.

  He was selfish.

  He was reprehensible.

  He was—BANG!

  He was the love of my life.

  I was up and running before anyone could stop me.

  “Heather!”

  “Heather! Stop!”

  I didn’t care.

  Bang! Bang!

  Two more shots, and my heart pounded in my chest.

  I went down that hill as if my life depended on it, because it did. The guys were in pursuit with me, and I was keeping up. Adrenaline gave me an edge over my normal speed, and I hit the fence hard, using my momentum to climb up and over. This was an old hat I used to wear.

  When we were kids, we’d climbed over fences, up trees, through houses. Through creeks and rivers or in the ocean—I would go anywhere with Channing, and today that meant I was storming into an MC warehouse.

  After those three shots, there’d been no other sound. The lights were still off, but I was beyond caring.

  I ran to the side door and shoved it open.

  After that, I stopped. I could smell the gunpowder.

  I heard the guys climbing over the fence outside, a few grunts. Someone landed hard on the ground, then nothing. They were as silent as Channing and Lincoln had been.

  “Heather.” Moose was behind me, looming over me.

  My heart was trying to pound its way out of me, but I held back. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

  Suddenly, someone cursed. “Fuck this.” The room was flooded in light.

  I blinked a couple times, seeing stars. When my eyes could focus, my heart stopped in a whole other way.

  Seven guys sat in chairs, their mouths stuffed with rags, their hands tied behind them. Their legs had been zip-tied to the chairs. Lincoln had a gun pointed at someone on the floor, and a pool of blood seeped from beneath him.

  And Channing—God, where was Channing?

  I heard a footstep from the back hallway, then another.

  He appeared, rubbing his hands with a towel, blood splattered over his front and his jeans. There was a smear of blood on his face, but it looked like he’d used something to wipe it off.

  “Well.” He looked up, saw me, and surveyed the room. There was no surprise, just a grimness as his jaw clenched again. “If we weren’t at war before, we are now.”

  27

  Channing

  “It’s not your fault, Channing.”

  I heard the words. I’d been there myself. I knew what had happened. The cops knew what had happened. Detective Miller said ballistics would back me up too, along with the eight other witnesses in the room.

  It still didn’t ease the dread in my gut.

  Traverse leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “The idiot drew his gun on you, tripped, and shot himself in the head. He literally shot himself. You have nothing to be feel bad about.”

  I grunted. “You’re right. Except that one of Richter’s guys is dead because of me. He won’t give a damn if it was indirect or not. I scared him. He pulled a gun, and he’s dead. That’s all Richter will care about, and you know it.”

  That shut him up.

  We were sitting in the back section of Manny’s. Heather had left us earlier to go open, so I’d sent Moose and Chad with her. The rest had stayed with me as we released Traverse’s guys and the cops showed up. Apparently, when Heather kicked open the door, it had triggered an alert. In a way, I was thankful the police knew I hadn’t killed the guy. I didn’t want that hanging over my head. After giving our statements, and once everyone was cleared to leave, we’d come here.

  I wanted to be close to Heather, and she was fine with closing off the back room at Manny’s for us.

  “Let us worry about Richter,” Traverse finally countered. “This is our war, not yours.”

  It wouldn’t matter. “He’ll blame me.”

  “He’ll blame me, not you. If the cops hadn’t shown up, there wouldn’t be any record of you guys being there.” One of Traverse’s guys held up a hand, starting to say something, but he was shut down. “We would’ve destroyed the security footage,” Traverse continued.

  The guy lowered his hand.

  I’d seen that footage myself. It only started an hour before we broke in. Feeling Moose’s gaze on me, I didn’t react. He’d watched it with me. The other guys didn’t know.

  They were watching me. They were waiting for orders. This wasn’t the scariest shit we’d been in, but they knew the protocol. We had a lot of members in our crew, but not everyone lived here. I hated making the call, but…

  “We need to circle the wagons.”

  One by one, they nodded at me and stood to leave.

  They didn’t go together. Each went alone, except Lincoln. He lingered by the door, and I knew what he was waiting for. Digging into my pocket, I chucked him my keys, and he held them up in a last salute before he left.

  “What are they all doing?” Traverse asked.

  They were going to visit every one of our members. Those who couldn’t come back to help would be on alert. They’d know so they could protect their families. The ones who could come back would, and every member’s home and business would have round-the-clock surveillance. The ones who didn’t have to go to their jobs wouldn’t. Tuesday Tits would be protected. Our warehouse would become the base of operations for everything. Heather would be protected—at Manny’s and her home. Brandon wouldn’t know it, but someone would be on him too.

  Some members had local families, so as many as possible would set up camp at the warehouse.

  We’d even ask Ginger Gypsy if she had any new visions for us.

  But all I said to Traverse was, “You and I are married. You know that, right?”

  A grimace crossed his face. “Come on. This is our fight.”

  I made sure my face didn’t move, but this guy was fighting me on this? Why? He wanted a mutiny. I promised I’d help, and he got one. Now nothing.

  Traverse told me Richter had found out what he was doing and tied them up. According to Traverse, they’d been there for weeks.

  They didn’t smell like they’d been tied up for a month.

  They didn’t look starving, or thirsty. No one was gaunt in the face or had trouble standing on their feet. They looked…like they’d been tied up just before we broke into the compound. That’s what they looked like, smelled like, acted like.

  That damn tape. There was only an hour of footage on it.

  It all added up to us being set up.

  If that was the case… I played along for now. I had to. I didn’t have enough to make a move. I didn’t know enough to make a move.

  I needed more information.

  “I don’t care what you say,” I told Traverse. “Richter’s been after Roussou since he took over the Red Demons. He might hate you, but he hates me too. And you and I, we’re in this together.” I paused. “Aren’t we?”

  I wanted him to put his cards on the goddamn fucking table. I wanted to know what men he had, what men he could call for, where they’d come from, when they’d show up, and if he had already called for them. I wanted to know the blueprints for his playbook.

  I wasn’t going to get that, so what did I know?

  I had to stop and recalculate.

  He had seven men with him.

  There was no way he’d take on Richter with seven men, and I wasn’t including myself in this situation.

  He would need more help if he was going to backtrack on us.

  I was still waiting for his answer.

  His eyes got hard. He tilted his head back. His nostrils flared, and all the while I stared right back at him.

  I could take out my gun. I could shoot him in the head. Then I’d pray. That was a last-ditch option if hell broke loose just now.

  I didn’t move a goddamn inch.

  Traverse’s eyes narrowed. An emotion flickered before v
anishing, and he cleared his throat. He held his hand out. “You know we are.” But his tone was curt.

  He waited, and I shook his hand. We stood at the same time. The rest of his guys did too, and I saw one slip into the bathroom.

  “Maybe we should take a breather? Meet up later tonight?” I suggested.

  He jerked his head in a nod. “Yeah. That sounds great.”

  Too fast. He smiled too fast, and he took that bait too fast.

  Fuck.

  I couldn’t have timed how fast they left. They were gone before I even thought about it. There was a trample down the hall, leaving just me standing in the back section.

  Until I heard a toilet flush.

  That bathroom was just outside the door.

  The door swung open. His last member stepped out.

  I raised a hand. “Hey, man.”

  He scanned the room, and his eyes widened a fraction. Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he tugged on his cut with his other hand, coming toward me. “Everyone take off?”

  I cocked my head, making sure I talked as smoothly as the bottom of a snake’s bottom. “Traverse wanted you to stay back, give me the rundown on your group’s operation and everything.”

  “Really?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “That all right?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sure.” He nodded and came back into the back room, shutting the door behind him. “He wanted me to tell you everything?”

  “Just go over the basic operations. We’re going to meet later and come up with a plan of attack for your guys and mine.”

  He was low man on the totem pole. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have picked that time to go to the bathroom, so I knew he didn’t know anything.

  Still, he should’ve hesitated.

  My guys wouldn’t have said a goddamn thing.

  This guy told me everything—where their extra men were coming from, where they were going to hunker down for the fight, where they knew Richter might be staying since he wouldn’t be at their compound anymore. He told me how many of the men they thought they could pull to their side. He gave me names. He gave me names of the guys coming to help.

  The only thing he didn’t give me was the shirt off his back, and I watched his phone. He had it clipped to his side. It started blinking as he was talking, and it kept blinking the whole time. He talked right through it, not noticing it once.