That isn’t what I’m concerned with, though. As I scroll through the photographs I see images of not only Orville, but Drifter, Samuel Jones, and more Aryan men that I recognize from my time being held hostage.
“He’s one of them,” I whisper.
Free grunts, taking the phone from me and I see his thumb move as he scrolls as well. “Fucking shit, he sure is. Goddammit. How?” he growls.
“They were in business dealings together for years, it isn’t extremely farfetched,” I point out.
Free chuckles as he shakes his head. “Babe, I know that. I mean, Prescott’s mom wasn’t some pure white race. Pres told me he got his dark hair from his half Hispanic mom.”
“It doesn’t make any sense; do you really think Orville is some kind of spy?” I ask, my brows tugging together.
Free leans back, dropping the phone to the seat of the sofa. “There are two schools of thought. One, he’s a traitor and a spy for them, or two, he’s a spy for us. I don’t know what to believe, but those photos are from a few years ago, and he’s just now showing his face here. Honest to fuck, I got no idea one way or the other,” he admits.
“How could we find out the truth?” I mutter to myself.
Standing, I walk over to the windows that face the backyard and look out, not watching anything in particular, but instead, just thinking.
There has to be some way that we can find out the truth. If Orville is some kind of spy for them or if he’s helping us, truly helping us, then Prescott has to know—one way or the other.
“Could we slip him some info, somehow?” Free mutters. I don’t think he’s necessarily talking to me, but I’m damn sure listening.
“What if we used me as bait still, except told nobody but him where I’ll be? What if you acted panicked, said you had to leave me home alone, and ask him to guard me?” I ask, with a snap of my finger.
It seems almost too easy, and I wonder if Orville will figure it out. But at this point, I have nothing else to really offer in the form of making a spy. Sometimes the simplest of plans work out the best, and I send up a small prayer that this will be the case.
“We can’t tell anyone but Snake and Orville,” Free advises.
I watch as he picks his phone up and sends Prescott a text. “Did you text him the plan?” I ask.
Free chuckles with a shake of his head. “No, I told him to find a way to slip back here, undetected. Just in case his phone is bugged or some shit.”
Oh, wow, that’s a good idea. I wouldn’t have even thought about that, I would have just called and told him. Spilled everything over the phone and then probably ruined the whole damn thing. I’m glad that I’m not in this alone because I would fuck the whole thing up.
I pace as I wait for Prescott to arrive. I’m a ball of nervous energy, anxiety plaguing me with each passing moment.
When the front door opens and slams closed, I turn to see him standing there. His eyes immediately find mine and I almost melt under their intense green gaze.
“What’s urgent?” he demands.
Free walks back into the living room, sitting down on the sofa and I follow suit, sitting in the chair. We wait for Prescott to join us, obvious confusion marring his features. “We found this on some guy’s Facebook,” Free begins, holding the phone out for Prescott.
I watch as he studies the device, his brows knitting together. “My dad and Drifter?” he whispers. Then he scrolls some more, and I notice when he realizes what kind of person this profile belongs to. “Is my dad part of them?” he whispers.
“We don’t know, all we know is that he looks chummy, but not much else. It was a couple of years ago, so it could mean nothing,” Free points out.
“Or it could mean he’s part of them and he’s here to take my woman,” Prescott growls.
Free nods. “We need to know the truth though, and we can’t flat out ask him.” Free takes a few minutes to explain our simple plan.
Prescott’s eyes glance over at me, then back to Free, several times before he speaks. “Let’s do it, now. I’ll stay here in the house, I told everyone that I had a lead on Jones and needed to go check that out alone. I drove here the back way, making sure that I wasn’t followed. I want to know if he’s trying to fuck me over or not.”
Prescott is obviously on edge, so I stand, walking over to where he is and wrapping my arms around his waist. He inhales a deep breath, pressing his lips to mine and one of his hands presses against the center of my back.
“We’ll get this handled, baby,” he murmurs against my hair.
I inhale a shaky breath as well and tip my head back to look up at him. “Shit yeah, we will,” I grin.
He chuckles and presses his lips against mine, then turns to Free. “Call him.”
Free lifts his chin, calling Orville Iron Gordon. I hope that he isn’t a spy and that all of this is just a complete coincidence, but we need to know. We need to get the threat of this crazy group away from us, and away from the Devils. I need to breathe easy, at least until this baby comes.
SNAKE
I watch as Free leaves, then I take my leave as well. Except unlike Free, I won’t be leaving the house. I’m staying here, hiding in the laundry room while I listen in to see if my own flesh and blood is some sick piece of shit racist, murderer, kidnapper, or whatever else he could be by being involved with that group.
I shouldn’t have let my guard down when he came back into my life. I should have turned him away, and never let him past my threshold.
Fuck.
Free isn’t far, he’s going to head out, park his bike down the street and then walk back here once my father has arrived. My stomach knots more with each passing second.
Reaching into my cut, I wrap my hand around my gun and take it out of my shoulder holster. I keep the gun inside of my boot holster as my emergency backup securely in place.
My knife is also secure at my hip. I hope I don’t have to use any of them, but I’m not naïve enough to think that I won’t.
The front door opens and closes. I strain to hear so that I don’t miss a second of what’s about to happen.
“Hey, Orville, you doing okay?” Ginger asks, her voice level and soft but I can hear a bit of tremble in it, hopefully my father doesn’t hear it too.
“Just getting everything organized for what’s to come. Are you ready?”
“For?” she asks, and I can picture her brow lifting in question.
My father lets out a laugh, it sounds different, hollow. My spine straightens. “The future, your future,” my father announces.
“My future?”
He grunts. “As a mother,” he offers with a laugh.
“Oh, well, I don’t know if I can ever really be ready. I suppose I’ll just be as prepared as possible.” I can almost see her shrugging at her own words.
My anxiety eases a bit, maybe he isn’t really against us. Maybe it was all some big misunderstanding, and the whole Aryan thing a complete coincidence.
Running my hand through my hair, I let out a breath of relief. I’m not completely convinced yet, but I’m feeling a little better.
It was hard for me to ever imagine the man who was my father, the man who raised me during my formative years, as some racist bigot.
I don’t ever remember him saying anything to make me believe that he was part of Drifter’s group. However, I haven’t known him for the past fifteen years, and shit changes, people change.
There’s a knock on the front door and it breaks me out of my thoughts. Who the fuck could be here? “I’ll get it, you go and sit, you look tired,” my father kindly offers toward Ginger.
I assume she does as he’s asked because a few minutes later, I hear the door open and close. No words are spoken, and my stomach knots again.
“What the hell?” Ginger’s voice shouts.
My entire body goes alert, my grip tightens around my gun and I flip the safety off without a thought.
I hear a throat clear and then a man speaks. “Did
you think that you were safe, whore?” he asks. “You’ll never be safe from me, no matter where you go, or who you surround yourself with. I have eyes everywhere,” he snorts.
“What do you want, Samuel? You can’t possibly want me, or my baby. She’s not pure,” Ginger whispers.
Samuel fucking Jones. Free was right, so goddamn right, and I stupidly let my father in, like he knew I would.
Like a boy looking for acceptance and love from his daddy. I’m such a goddamn idiot. I put my woman in danger, and my club. Everybody I love. Fuck.
“Do you think I would keep that dirty thing you’ve got inside of you?” Jones chuckles. “She’s easy to get rid of. However, now that I know you’re fertile, you are of great use to me. I’ve already researched your background. Your family fought in the civil war for the confederacy. Your line is long, documented, and most importantly—white.”
“You’re fucking disgusting,” Ginger spits. I smirk to myself—good girl.
Jones laughs, the sound is laced with a touch of pure fucking evil. “You’ll get used to it, Ginger. You might find that you even like my brand of disgusting—eventually,” he grins.
“Never,” she hisses.
I’m so engrossed in their conversation that I don’t even realize Free has come from the garage entrance of the house. He lifts his chin to me and I shake my head once. Then I tell him about what I’ve heard. That he was right, my father is a traitor, and a piece of shit.
“They have five guys waiting out front. None in the back. Luckily, they didn’t see me hop the fence at the side of the house,” he explains.
I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here. There are only two of us, and seven of them, including my father and Jones.
I run my hand over my face, tugging on my beard slightly as I try and think. As long as we can stick together, we can take them all. However, this is going to mean immediate war, especially if I kill the leader of their sick group.
“I got backup coming, had them load up in a cage to keep from being made too soon. We have about ten minutes before they arrive,” Free whispers.
Lifting my free hand, I wrap it around his shoulder and give him a squeeze. “Thanks for having my back, brother,” I mutter.
Free grins. “Always, Snake. These fucks are going down, and we’re going to bring them down. We’ll kill them all, send the rest of their crews scrambling, and then we’ll stay on guard and be ready for them. Anytime. Anyplace.”
Lifting my chin, I give him a grunt before a smile.
Never did I think that I would have to kill my own blood, but in this case, it’s definitely a necessity. My father wants to hurt my baby, hurt my wife, and my club.
Fuck. Him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GINGER
My eyes flit between Samuel and Orville’s faces. Orville hasn’t said much, but the way he’s intently staring at me, I know that he’s not my ally in this—he’s the enemy.
Samuel’s words make me physically ill. It takes everything inside of me not to vomit all over him. Especially when he talks about getting rid of Evalyn, my baby girl.
I’ll die fighting for her life.
Samuel’s eyes slowly drift down my body, then back up to my face. “Sad really,” he mutters.
“What?” I stupidly ask.
He smirks before he speaks. “Sad that they had you in their grasp and they allowed you to be taken from them. I wouldn’t have let it happen if I were in charge back then,” he murmurs.
“They had no idea they were about to get caught,” Orville pipes in.
Samuel turns his gaze from me, and slowly faces Orville. The look on his face is indescribable. It’s a mixture of pure evil, hate, and challenge all rolled into one.
I shrink back, trying to make myself appear smaller than I am. When Samuel reaches out, his reflexes are like lightning. He grabs Orville by the back of the hair and forces him to his knees, all in a matter of seconds.
I stand, stock still as I watch them. Samuel leans down, wrenching Orville’s neck back, his face close and his breathing heavy. “Do not make excuses for those men. They ruined years of planning, years of cultivating. They led monsters to kill good men, men who were trying to build a blood army. Starting over was never the plan. Now, it isn’t a choice. So, do not tell me that they had no idea. They were supposed to prepare for the worst, always prepare for the worst. Instead, they were pussy drunk, fat, and lazy,” Samuel seethes.
Orville takes an audible gulp, the fear in his eyes genuine and radiating from the rest of him. If Orville is scared of Samuel, then I’m fucking terrified. I take small step after small step, backward. I know that I can’t really go anywhere, but I want to be out of his reach if nothing else.
“I’m sorry,” Orville whispers, his voice shaking.
My head jerks, surprised by his apology and the weakness in his voice. I’ve never known a Devil to be weak or to sound weak. Looking back up at Samuel, I see that his hard gaze is still directed at Orville. Directing my gaze back at Orville, there’s something akin to worship in his gaze as he looks back up at Samuel.
I never imagined any of these Aryans were normal, I mean they have to be at least a little crazy, but Samuel is something else to Orville—he’s his leader. Not just head of his terrorist group, or the leader of his club, he’s his leader—Orville worships him. I bet my ass if Samuel asked him to lick his boots or suck his dick, he’d do it happily.
“Not half as sorry as you’re going to be if this plan doesn’t come to fruition. Where is Hayden?” he growls. “I want both of my girls with me when we leave tonight.”
My heart starts to race, pounding against my chest at the mention of leaving tonight. I know that Prescott won’t let me go, but it doesn’t take away from the fear I feel, fear that rushes through me like a fucking bolt of lightning.
“She’s under lock and key, they’re afraid Lucifer is going to take her,” Orville whimpers.
Samuel throws back his head in laughter. “They’re all so fucking stupid.”
I see movement in the corner of my eyes and watch as both Prescott and Free emerge from the hallway. My racing heart starts to slow down, and my breathing becomes a bit more even.
“The doctor is ready?” Samuel asks, his tone much smoother, calmer than it was just seconds ago.
“He’s waiting,” Orville mutters.
“Stand up, you idiot,” Samuel sighs removing his grip from Orville’s hair.
I watch as he stands, his eyes never meeting mine, but instead going straight to the ground. Subservient and submissiveness that I never noticed before pours off of him. Samuel owns him, in every way and for whatever reason, Orville would follow him off of a cliff at this point.
My eyes move from Orville to Prescott’s and I watch him smirk as he raises his gun, pointing it at the back of Samuel’s head, at the same time Free does the same with his to Orville. “You thought you would take my woman, kill my baby?” Prescott asks, his voice deep, scary, and laced with anger.
Samuel’s eyes find mine and I watch as he smirks. “Back of the head? Really, Snake? I never pegged you for a pussy.”
Prescott laughs, the sound filling the air, and usually, it would fill me full of joy, but not right now it doesn’t. “I’m not a pussy, and I’m not about to drop my guard with you, you sick fucker. Back of the head, your back, I don’t give a fuck. All I care about is the fact that you’ll be dead, and I’ll be breathing.”
“Where is the honor in that?” Samuel asks, his voice eerily calm.
Prescott snorts. “Where is the honor of taking another man’s wife and killing his baby?” Prescott hisses.
“Touché,” Samuel grins.
Prescott doesn’t wait for even one more breath. He pulls the trigger and I watch as brains, blood, skull, and hair flies everywhere around me.
Orville lets out a cry. “What the fuck did you do? You don’t know what kind of shit storm you’ve started now.” My head jerks when I hear more gunshots, five t
o be exact and Orville sucks in a breath.
“Last man standing,” Prescott mutters, walking in front of his dad.
Free backs away and then walks over to me. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t touch me, or even reassure me in any way that everything will be okay.
Both of us stoically watch as Prescott takes in his father. The man who abandoned him and then came back under the guise that it was to mend broken fences, only to discover that he was a traitor and a liar.
Orville lifts his chin, looking right at Prescott, his subservient stance gone, and replaced with one that I recognize as a Devil, as Prescott’s father. “I was trying to save you,” he states.
Prescott tips his head to the side but doesn’t lower his gun. “How?” he asks, but I can tell that he doesn’t believe a word his father says.
“She’s been used, whored by all of those Aryans. She has a purpose with them, not with you. There is no way that the child inside of her will ever be normal. It isn’t pure, just like you, you aren’t pure and look at you,” Orville spits.
Prescott’s body jerks slightly and I wish I could hold him, and shield him from his father’s crazy, hurtful, words. “I’m not pure so there’s something wrong with me?” Prescott asks in a mumble.
“I’ve atoned for my sins, for breeding with someone dirty, and wrong. You haven’t. Your child will be doomed. It’s why I left you, Prescott, there is no hope for you. The only hope we have is to kill that baby, and breed Ginger the way she was meant to be,” he rambles.
My God, the man is certifiable and brainwashed like no other I’ve seen. When I was held hostage, those guys were just gross, but Orville is something different, his mind is completely gone. I glance up at Free whose jaw is clenched as he watches the interaction between father and son.
“Free,” I whisper, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.
The room is bathed in silence and then I hear the shot after Orville falls to the ground. My house is covered in blood and brains, but I don’t care.
Laced with Fear (Cash Bar Book 1) Page 15