Viper

by Atlas, Lilly

  With a half sigh, half growl, Viper shoved the sponge into a sudsy bucket. Might as well get this the fuck over with. If he finished in time, he could join Cassie as she painted the walls of their shoebox apartment.

  Leaving her alone for any amount of time caused the back of his neck to itch. They hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the Devil’s Tribe in the few weeks they’d been in Tennessee, but Viper still felt the weight of their eyes on him everywhere he went. Maybe someday, he’d feel comfortable in his skin without looking over his shoulder, but today was not that day. Not nearly enough time had passed to feel safe.

  And fuck, he worried more about Cassie than he did himself, no matter how many times and in how many ways she tried to get him to relax.

  Though, man, did he love her relaxation techniques.

  Despite her constant reassurances, he had a feeling she was even more freaked out than he was, she just hid it better.

  As he began to scrub the front hubcap on the first bike, the deafening roar of another motorcycle cruised into the parking lot.

  Sarge.

  Fucking finally.

  “Nice of you to show, brother,” he called out after Sarge shut off the engine.

  His brother hopped off the bike, tossed his helmet to the ground, and practically ran to Viper with a giant fucking grin on his face.

  “Damn, brother,” Sarge said as he reached him. Still smiling, Sarge grabbed Viper’s shoulders, pulled him close, and planted a loud, wet kiss on Viper’s forehead. “It is a good fucking day.”

  What the…

  As he smacked Sarge’s hands away, Viper said, “Who the fuck are you, and what the hell have you done with my surly tantrum-throwing brother?”

  Laughing, Sarge rubbed his hands together. “Oh, I’m still him. I’m just really fucking happy.”

  “You get us out of this shit detail?”

  Sarge’s head was shaking before Viper finished the question. “Nope. Even better. So much better, you’re gonna cream yourself.”

  Christ, this was gonna be some story about him getting sucked off by a skank kneeling under the table at some seedy bar last night.

  “All right,” Viper folded his arms. “Lay it on me.”

  Though he hadn’t thought it possible, Sarge’s grin stretched even wider across his face, “We’re free, brother. Fucking free.”

  Viper swore his blood stopped pumping, and his lungs froze up. Free? That could only mean one thing. Wait…fuck, what did that mean? His hands fell to his sides.

  “The Tribe?” he asked though it came out in a strangled whisper as though someone had their hand around his throat.

  “Fucking decimated,” Sarge said, practically gleeful in his excitement. If he hadn’t been wearing mirrored aviators, Viper probably would have seen a damn twinkle in his brother’s eyes. “Told you it was great fucking news.” He slapped Viper on the back. “Now, let’s get to these filthy bikes so we can still have a fucking day.” Humming an ACDC song, he bent over the bucket.

  That’s all he was gonna say? No other details. Just…decimated?

  “Hold up, Sarge. I need more than that.” His limbs felt heavy, as though it would be a massive undertaking to step forward or lift a hand. “Fox?”

  Sarge straightened, dripping sponge in hand. “He’s dead, V.”

  Christ, his father was fucking dead. How the hell was he supposed to react? Half of him wanted to rejoice while the other half wanted to fall to his knees and weep. For weeks, he’d only allowed himself to think of Fox the way he’d acted at the end. A lying bastard who kidnapped and sold women under his son’s nose. A fucker who didn’t have the slightest shred of human decency.

  But Viper had only been aware of that Fox’s existence for two days before he left. The other twenty-one years, seven months, and however many days of his life, he’d been Viper’s everything. His father, his brother, his president. His goddammed role model. That wasn’t to say he found Fox without fault, but he’d been able to overlook or justify the many flaws his father possessed. The quick and brutal temper, the occasional callousness, the womanizing had all been written off as necessary traits to succeed as an MC president.

  Until his eyes had been blown wide the fuck open.

  So did he mourn the father he’d known and loved? Did he celebrate knowing Fox would never have a hand in harming another woman? Or did he breathe a massive sigh of relief at his newfound freedom?

  Once the shock passed and the reality of the situation set in, it’d be some combination of all three, no doubt.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said when he finally found his voice again. “And how you know.”

  Sarge, who’d been staring at him, sighed as though he felt no need to tell the story. He dropped the sponge then shrugged out of his leather jacket, leaving him in nothing but a white T-shirt. “Fucking hot in the sun,” he grumbled. “I got a contact I’ve stayed in touch with back in Washington.”

  Viper threw his hands in the air. Sarge and his fucking contacts. “Seriously? You know how fucking risky that is?”

  “Simmer down there, asshole. It’s fine,” Sarge said as he moved his hand in a downward motion. “Seems like we did too good a job of pinning the fire on the Scoundrels the night we left.”

  Viper’s forehead scrunched. “What do you mean?”

  The rivalry between the Scoundrels and the Devil’s Tribe went back to the dawn of the club. Every so often, there would be years of relative peace followed by bloody turf wars and police interference. Within the past few months, things had been heating up again.

  “Well, the Scoundrels knew none of their guys had been at the shack the night we rescued your woman, but the Tribe believed they’d been the ones to torch the place. Fox planned an elaborate retaliation on the Scoundrels. From what I understand, the Tribe got every local member and a fucking arsenal of weaponry, then surrounded the Scoundrels clubhouse. They were gonna turn the place into Swiss cheese to avenge our supposed deaths and the money they lost on Cassie’s deal.” Sarge smirked. “That’s gotta make you feel good, huh? Those fuckers loved us enough to kill for us.” He threw back his head and laughed.

  Viper wasn’t ready to see the humor in any of this.

  Sarge rubbed a hand over his bald scalp. “Anyway, the Scoundrels weren’t as stupid as we always claimed they were. They’d been expecting that shit and were prepared as fuck for an overt attack. Turned the tables on Fox and killed all but a few low-level Tribe guys who scattered into the wind. The entire fucking club is gone. Man, that is some good fucking news. I need to get this shit done so I can find someone to fuck. I’m feeling so damn good, I’m hard.”

  Yes, a huge weight had just been lifted now that they no longer had to fear the Tribe finding them, but fuck; everyone he’d considered family until recently had been wiped out in one fell swoop.

  That fucked with a man’s head. His heart too.

  But there was one thing he couldn’t deny was fantastic news. Cassie no longer had to fear being recaptured. Returning to Washington could pose some level of threat, but not a terrible amount. The scumbag who had her kidnapped originally was still out there and might recognize her, but he was fucking low hanging fruit. He worked for the Tribe and had been paid. He’d move on to the next order and forget about Cassie all together. In reality, chances were high she could return home and be safe.

  She no longer needed his protection, which meant she had no reason to stay with him.

  “Hey!” Sarge’s shout had him jerking back to reality. “You’ve been staring at that bucket for six fucking minutes.”

  With a shake of his head, Viper took a step closer to the bike he’d been cleaning when Sarge rode up. “Sorry. Just…processing.”

  From his crouched position, Sarge cocked his head and nodded. “Go,” he said. “I got this shit. My mouth that got us in this anyway.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. You’re head’s already with your woman.” He rolled his eyes. “Go be with her. Deal with y
our shit.”

  Finally, Viper felt a grin curl his lips. Sarge could be a surly fucker, but he was still a brother and there when it counted. “Thanks, brother,” Viper said as he walked over and clapped Sarge on the shoulder. “I owe you one.”

  “Yeah, yeah, just get a blow job out of the deal and give me the play by play for my spank bank. We’ll call it even.”

  That would never happen, but Viper chuckled as he jogged toward his bike.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was charging up the stairs to his third floor apartment. He ripped the door open to find Cassie rolling paint up and down the far wall of their small den. She had her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun and one of his T-shirts covering her top. Her head moved, bopping to whatever music came from the Walkman clipped on the waistband of electric blue leggings.

  Viper folded his arms and leaned against the open door to the apartment just as she began to belt out the chorus to some awful pop song. For a moment, he let everything aside from Cassie fade into the background and enjoyed the sight of his woman shaking her pert ass and butchering Janet Jackson’s words.

  She spun, arms up, mouth open, and screamed so loud, his ears rang. “Holy shit, Viper! You gave me a heart attack.” With the headphones still on, she spoke far louder than necessary. “Jesus.” One hand pressed to her chest, she used the other to yank the headphones off her ears. “Oh, my God, you scared me.” Her face pulled into a frown. “You can’t possibly be done yet. Did Cutter change his mind?”

  Shaking his head, he pushed off the wall and strode to her. When he was close enough to touch her, he placed his hands on her hips. She had a streak of white paint along her cheek and a few in her hair, and his T-shirt was pretty much ruined. She was goddammed adorable.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, rubbing her finger on the crease between his eyebrows. “Just say it. You’re starting to freak me out.”

  “The Devil’s Tribe MC is gone.”

  “What?” she asked on a gasp.

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “They were massacred in an attack against the Scoundrels MC. They’re all gone. We don’t have to worry about anyone coming after us.”

  “Oh, Viper,” she said, immediately wrapping her arms around him. “Your father?”

  He shook his head against hers.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “Baby, you don’t have to say that. You can’t possibly mean it. Not after what they did to you.”

  Her arms only squeezed him tighter as he lifted his head and stared at the blank white wall she’d been painting. It was a bit like their future. Wide open, waiting for some decoration, a plan, a theme.

  Unless she decided to go somewhere else.

  “Of course I mean it, Viper. You can’t choose your blood, and Fox was yours. The club was your family for your entire life. You had no idea what was happening beneath the surface. Of course I’m sorry it went down this way. That they’re all gone. That they betrayed you in the first place. You can’t tell me you don’t feel anything.”

  “I feel free,” he whispered. And it was true. At least in part. “I feel relief that you’re safe. That I’m safe. That we can move forward without fear.”

  “That’s not all you’re feeling,” She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “It’s okay to feel sadness, Viper. It’s okay to grieve the loss of your family. I don’t expect you to forget that you loved them for many years.”

  Heaviness tightened his chest, and for fuck’s sake, his eyes watered. Damn Cassie and her sweetness. Her kind, compassionate nature would be his undoing. And damn Fox for being such a motherfucker. For turning everything Viper had known on its head. For making Viper have no choice but to break his oath to the club.

  A harsh sob left him as the heaviness in his chest strengthened to a crushing pain. His knees buckled. Cassie only held him close and lowered them both to the ground.

  “It’s okay, Viper. Let it out, baby. I got you. You’re safe to feel whatever you need to feel with me,” she said in his ear as she rocked him gently back and forth.

  And he did. Her sweet words opened the floodgates. Viper cried for the loss of his father and the loss of his family. He wept for all the women he hadn’t known his club was harming and who he hadn’t been able to save. He sobbed out his anger and hatred of Fox as well as his love of the man who’d raise him. And he cried for Vanessa, whose life had been stolen too early and whose death was the catalyst to open Viper’s eyes. The only other time in his life he’d cried was when she’d died.

  Cassie stayed with him on the floor of their apartment with the front door wide open. She continued to rock him back and forth, whispering soft words he couldn’t decipher.

  Christ, he loved her. She was everything he needed and wanted in his life. He’d tell her soon. Not today, with a cloud of uncertainty, grief, and relief hanging over them. He’d save it for a time when it could be the primary focus.

  Once he’d calmed, he gently disengaged himself from her arms only to find her cheeks streaked with tears as well. The tip of her nose shone red, and her beautiful green eyes held a deep sadness. “Please don’t be sad,” he whispered, wiping the tears from her face. “You’re safe now, Cass. You can do whatever you want. Go wherever you want.”

  As the words left his mouth, he wanted to call them back or scream at her to stay with him. Fear ripped through him. If she left, he wouldn’t survive it. If she walked away from him, he’d know a depth of loss he hadn’t thought possible.

  She cupped his face between trembling hands. “You silly man,” she whispered. “Please tell me you aren’t worried about that. Viper, why would I go anywhere? You’re here.”

  Those two words had him feeling like he’d taken his first breath since they left Washington. She wasn’t leaving. Cassie wanted to stay with him. Her smile lit his world and had him kissing her until his brain spun from lack of oxygen.

  When they finally pulled apart, panting and grinning, he asked, “Would you like to call your family?”

  Her eyes popped wide. “Oh, I…wow.” She sat back on her heels. “I suppose I should. I don’t even know what they think happened to me.”

  “Want me to leave so you can have some privacy?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No, I’d like you to stay.”

  With that, she stood and walked to where the phone hung on the wall in the kitchen. They’d purchased an extra-long phone cord since she warned him she liked to pace while chatting. He followed close behind and circled an arm around her waist as she dialed.

  “Here goes,” she whispered more to herself than him.

  He kissed her cheek, and she leaned into him.

  “Dad? Um, it’s me, Cassie.”

  1982 - TENNESSEE

  “CASSANDRA?” HER DAD said, surprise in his voice.

  “Um, yeah, Dad. It’s me. H-how are you?” Her hands trembled so bad she nearly knocked herself out with the phone. Viper’s strong, steady hand curled around hers, helping to stabilize her arm.

  “Where the hell have you been? Cassandra, don’t you think this has gone on long enough? Punishing Marissa and I like this?”

  No, she didn’t think that, but they’d never agree on how he managed his personal life. None of that mattered as she planned to never return to Washington. “Dad,” she cut off in a sharp tone she’d rarely used in his presence.

  He fell silent.

  “Dad, I’m not calling about that. I-I just want you to know I’m okay. I’m not in Washington, and I’m not coming back.”

  He grunted. “Cassandra, really, this tantrum of yours is growing tireso—”

  “I was drugged and kidnapped,” she blurted.

  Silence and then, “Cassie?” came whispered through the line.

  “I’m okay now, Dad. Someone rescued me, and I’m with him. I’m safe, and I’m happy. I’m just not coming back.”

  He seemed to understand what she wasn’t saying. That she no longer wished to be a part of his world. The old-mone
y, ultra-rich lifestyle had never been for her. It wouldn’t come as a shock to her father. She’d played the game to fit in with her peer group, but had never hidden her dislike for her family’s way of life.

  “Do you need money?” Of course, that’s all he’d comment on. Not her happiness or safety, but the money. Though the gesture was more than she’d expected and probably his emotionally stunted way of showing he cared.

  “No, Dad, I’m good. I have money from Grandma, and I’m getting a job. I’ll be okay. I’ll be great, actually.” Without having to worry about the Devil’s Tribe searching for her, she should be able to access her financial accounts. Maybe she and Viper could buy a house instead of living in a crappy apartment.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “Take care of Marissa and the baby, okay?” Though she still found that situation inexcusable and she had no plan to communicate with her former best friend, she’d always wanted the best for them. Or the best they could get out of such a screwed-up situation.

  Her father cleared his throat. “I, uh, I will.”

  “Good. Well then, I guess—”

  “Cassandra?”

  She squeezed the phone. “Yes, Dad?”

  “You’re happy?”

  Viper pressed a silent kiss to her cheek, and her eyes fell closed.

  Her heart pounded in her chest. This was the most fatherly concern he’d shown in years. “Deliriously happy, Dad. I have a great man, and we’re building a great life.”

  He cleared his throat again, and part of her would always wonder if he’d been choked up or just uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “Okay, then. Good luck to you.”

  The line went dead.

  Viper took the phone from her limp hand and hung it on the wall. “You okay?”

  She turned into him as his arms closed around her. “You know, I think I am. I feel like we just turned a corner, leaving the clouds behind us. Straight ahead is nothing but clear skies.”

  “Don’t forget sex. Clear skies and sex.”

  Cassie threw back her head and laughed. Viper might grieve a bit over the next few months, but still, the skies ahead were bright and sunny.