“Courtesy of the White Knights Motorcycle Club.” Cillian walked over to the Sheriff and shook his hand.
Everyone knew Rawlins, the middle-aged, all-American Sheriff with two perfect children—both who attended UNLV—and the ideal Stepford wife had firmly been in the Cox family pocket for years. He would expect retribution for this kind of violence going down in his small tranquil town, which was always voted as one of the top five places to live in Northern Nevada along with Pine Bluff.
His hazel eyes centered on me and glanced from the bottom of my feet all the way to the top of my dirty t-shirt, stained with blood and alcohol. “You’re Lennon’s daughter, aren’t you? What brings you to Birch Tree?”
“Visiting old friends,” I replied vaguely before I glared at the Sheriff again. “One of the gunmen called out for Brooklyn as soon as the sirens could be heard.”
“That piece of shit son of a bitch.” Rawlins’ face turned an unflattering shade of crimson. “Goddamn it, Cox, I thought you told me y’all were on lockdown. What the fuck were you doing here at O’Branaughs?”
“They were mindin’ their own business.” O’Branaugh stepped from behind the bar, his lean figure untouched and unharmed. “They were just havin’ a drink when those white trash bastards stormed in, murdered and maimed a bunch of my patrons and left. Half the people in here are regulars. You can’t blame this on the Club. Those no-good sons of bitches were lookin’ to start shit and they done did it.”
It took everything in me not to laugh out loud although the occasion was somber and there was certainly nothing funny about what had gone down today. However, I didn’t do tears anymore and although I felt like I should have been in shock, I only felt numb.
“Talk to Dizzy, Cillian. Tell him O’Branaugh and I will be by this evening. Something has to be done about those meth-abusin’ pricks and I’m ready to bury them all in a hole where no one will ever be able to find the bones, you got me?”
“Yeah, I got you.”
“Good, now get the hell out of here before the ATF shows up. I heard on the police scanner they’re on their way. I don’t need a convicted felon or you—whose on trial for killin’ one of their own—as witnesses. O’Branaugh will fill them in and we’ll leave y’all out. As far as we’re concerned, the four of ya never came into town and have been on lockdown at the compound. That’s the story and I expect everyone to stick with it.” Rawlins had a gentle yet commanding voice, which clearly indicated he was giving orders that were non-negotiable.
“Crystal, sir.” Bookie said before he tapped my arm and I followed him outside to his Harley.
As I climbed on the back and slipped my helmet on, I could tell Cillian was fighting angry and upset. There would be consequences for the White Knights actions and no matter what happened, the whole situation was about to get even uglier.
I’d never wished to be in Belfast with Linx so fucking bad in all my life. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was in with the Saints and I would have to protect my Club, no matter what the cost.
The problem was I had a feeling it might cost me everything.
Part Two
Lovers & Criminals
Chapter Twelve
NO MATTER HOW many times Linx had visited Belfast, it always felt like a new revelation and he was always reminded he wasn’t in America anymore.
The Catholic section of the city was in decent shape but it was far from pristine. The weather was cold and rainy; deep gray clouds threatened to unleash rain at any moment and the smell of the air was damp and moldy.
He’d never missed the comfort and luxury of the rock star life more than he did now but he would never show it. Quinn was quiet but underneath, he was friendly and had a big heart. Ronan was all fire and ice. He couldn’t imagine him with Naomi but if he loved like he lived, their relationship was predominantly made up of fucking and fighting.
That first night in Belfast, they were welcomed into the Saints charter, which was disbanding and heading for greener pastures. Hardy, Dizzy’s brother, was overseeing the move and it was a lot to take in.
The youngest of the Cox children, he was barely thirty-one years old; approximately ten months separated him from Cillian and he was the oldest of the two. The guy was young, good looking—like all the Cox men—and had no problem with pulling pussy.
He had a sexy brunette on one thigh while he felt up a blonde who sat next to him on the sofa.
Ronan was all business despite this man being his uncle. “Trey. Where is he?”
“He’s safe, brother,” Hardy replied in an accent that was part Irish, part Cockney from spending so many years in London. “Why don’t you grab a drink and a bitch and calm the fuck down. This isn’t the States, know what I’m sayin’?”
“Orders are orders, Uncle.” Quinn looked uncomfortable but held his own. “This comes directly from Dad. We need to see him immediately.”
“Fine.” Hardy dragged on a cigarette before he handed it to the blonde and stood. “Dizzy’s intent on bustin’ me balls, I’ll let him. I gotta admit though—this is so fuckin’ rich comin’ from a wanker like ‘im. Never gave a shite about anyone but ‘imself before that little cunt was born. Then it was all Trey this and Trey that.”
Linx followed the two brothers and continued to observe. The whores, the booze and the amount of open drug use Dizzy would never tolerate. All his boys knew the hardest they could venture into drugs was marijuana. This hard and fast rule didn’t stop Ronan from running his own side operation nor indulging but he wasn’t a coke head or an alcoholic. He was sober as a judge at the moment and way too pissed off to say anything at all.
Hardy led them down the hallway of the Club, which was much more smaller and intimate than the massive compound in Birch Tree. Here, the Club’s legitimate business was motorcycle restoration so there was a garage on site but they made most of their money through business dealings with the Russians. They were into some serious arms dealings and had since expanded into the heroin trade since the Russians had connections in Afghanistan.
The Saints were flooding Western Europe with cheap, high quality heroin and the epidemic had already started yet again.
They finally reached the end of the hallway where there were two doors and Hardy stopped all three of them. “Now, remember, Trey wasn’t harmed but a bullet grazed his thigh and that is why he’s bandaged. Whatever else is going on in that room has fuck all to do with me, know what I mean?”
Hardy knocked before he pushed the door open and the sight wasn’t exactly appropriate or pleasant.
A tired looking though striking blonde gave Trey a blowjob with gusto while he snorted coke off her back and followed this by a chaser from a bottle of Bushmills Irish whiskey.
Hardy cleared his throat and the blonde looked up.
“Don’t stop! Keep suckin’ my cock. I can talk to these guys while you do your thing.” Trey looked them all over before he settled on Linx with cold hazel-green eyes. “What. The. Fuck. Tell me Linx is wearin’ a cut as a disguise because Trista is gonna fuckin’ flip. She never wanted to be an old lady!”
“Well, mate, she’s one now, innit?” Hardy stalked over, grabbed the bottle of Bushmills and swigged greedily. “So, this is how it’s gonna go down, yeah? You finish gettin’ your knob waxed by this Club slapper and then we plan on leavin’…tomorrow. We got a shipment of arsenal from the former Soviet Republic of the Ukraine and we’re leavin’ with it. Dizzy boy wants ya home and he’s already arranged everythin’.”
“Where’s Trista?” His eyes bore into Linx like liquid fire.
“She’s stayin’ at Dizzy’s compound. They’re on lockdown at the moment, Apparently, you tryin’ to kill Brooklyn didn’t go down so well.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Trey pushed the blonde away and covered his junk with a blanket. “You,” he pointed at his disposable playmate, “get the fuck out.”
The young woman grabbed the wisp of a top she’d been wearing and ran past them just in time for Hardy to
shut the door behind her.
“I can’t believe you put on a cut for me.” Trey shook his head, his eyes still trained on Linx. “I love my sister to death and I know how she was worried about me but…she’s in love with you, man. She can’t be an old lady—yeah, she’s strong and she can hack it but the lifestyle would destroy my sweet baby sister.”
“I did what I had to do.” Linx’s blue eyes never wavered. “Dizzy told me I had to put on a cut and I did—”
“Wait minute…rock star or no fuckin’ rock star, how the fuck did you get in so quickly? You weren’t sponsored and you were never a motherfuckin’ prospect. This whole situation makes no sense what so ever.”
“Bronaugh.” Linx stepped toward his brother-in-law reluctantly. “She and my dad are cousins. Dizzy knew and it was easy after that. Trista was pissed off and I’ve already heard her spiel about the situation but she was also desperate. She thought you’d died and was determined to find out what happened to you.”
Trey snatched the bottle of Bushmills from Hardy and drank from it before he set it on the bedside table. “Fuck. I knew she would think something like that happened when it couldn’t have been further from the truth.”
He breathed out loud and looked away from them all. “When Keri and I first got here, we were good. We visited the High Street and did some shopping. That’s when those sons of bitches from the White Knights moved in and kidnapped us. They never planned on killin’ me but they shot Keri like she was a piece of shit.
“That’s what all of this is about. Keri. Nel went nuts and he doesn’t give a shit about anything. Brooklyn is running the show. I’m just happy the Club is on lockdown.”
“What do you mean Brooklyn is runnin’ everythin’?” Ronan growled out in a low voice.
Trey stretched out. “Keri was Nel’s daughter by a Club whore. He loved her very much and took care of them until Keri dropped out of school and decided she wanted to be a porn star. He’s pissed at his guys but he would rather take the revenge out on us and it sucks. Especially since I was willing to take a bullet for that bitch. She was my life and to have her just snuffed out like that. It’s really torn me up inside.”
Linx didn’t say anything. To be honest, he didn’t know what to say because if he had been in that situation and it had been Trista, he would have been a nervous wreck. He couldn’t imagine the one woman in his life being taken from him and considering what Trey had been through, he seemed to be handling the situation better than most people would.
Ronan crossed his arms across his broad chest. Of the two brothers, he worked out much more than his twin brother and it showed in their body types. Quinn was a lot more leaner but incredibly strong and had the body of a well-built model. Ronan looked like he’d just quit the Navy SEALs with his defined chest, wash board abs and developed arms. He was tall but extremely solid and looked like he’d crush Linx if a throw down were ever to occur between the two men.
“We need to know exactly what happened. What the hell were you an Keri doing on the High Street anyway? If you knew what you’d done and Brooklyn was still hospitalized, why would you venture out of the compound at all?”
Trey leaned over and grabbed a cigarette before he lit it and dragged hungrily from it. “You’ve been around this compound, haven’t you? If you’d done a thorough tour then you’d know its small. The property is nothing like Jonesy and Dizzy’s places simply because they didn’t foresee the charter ever getting as big as it did.”
“Bro, that’s not what Ronan asked you?” Quinn stepped forward several feet and got into the man’s space. “Why the hell did you leave the compound?”
“Fine.” He threw back the covers and reached for a pair of black jeans that were slightly loose and a clean white t-shirt to cover up the tats on his chest. The ones on his arms were still prominently displayed.
Similar to Quinn in stature and build, Trey was all lean muscle mass. He had little body hair and the hair on his head was a mass of soft, silky dark waves, much darker than Trista’s hair.
“I was suffering from cabin fever. At the time the compound was packed to capacity. There was a lockdown going on because the WKs have a charter here in Belfast but it’s on the Protestant side. Not sure if you noticed but the demographics of Ireland have changed big time, even here. Lots of gypsies, Poles, Africans and Pakistanis. There has even been a wave of refugees from places like Iraq and Afghanistan.
“Ireland has never been a country people immigrated to and it was no different during the time when the UK experienced an immigration explosion. Now that the economy has gone to shit, hate groups abound and the Protestant side was ripe for an infiltration from the White Knights MC.
“It just so happened we arrived after a hard core dog fight between the WKs and the Saints. I heard bits and pieces from the Prez but he didn’t really fill me in so we had no idea what was going on. We were on our way back from the High Street when we wandered into Highfield. It’s on the border of this neighborhood but it’s almost one hundred percent Protestant. Catholics make up less than two percent and it also happens to be not far from where the WK charter is...all I can think about is someone must have tipped them off we were here because the only people who knew where we were goin’ was the Prez, Trista, Linx and…Clooney.”
All the men turned toward Linx. “Listen, it wasn’t me. Why would I do that when I wasn’t even a member of any MC at the time and Trista would cut my balls off and shove them down my throat if I laid one hand on her brother? Everyone knows you’re her favorite brother and the only family she has left other than me. Sure, you can be a bitch sometimes but what would I get out of knocking you off except a depressed shell of a wife?”
Trey smirked before his cold hazel-green eyes warmed. “I never said I thought it was you, brother. Dad wouldn’t have told—”
“Back the fuck up.” Ronan was flexing his muscles and began to pace the small room like a bull in a china shop. “How long have you known about Dizzy being your father?”
“Seriously? Since I was about nine or ten. My parents sat me down and my mother calmly explained to me that my father who raised me wasn’t my biological father. I was pissed and angry they’d kept it from me for so very long. They refused to tell me who my real father was but I figured it out. I saw the looks of longing between Dizzy and my mother.
“I think I was around eleven when I ran into Dizzy with his old crew and I asked him if I could talk to him for a few minutes. You have to understand I was always a cocky little bastard so I just came right out and asked him if he was my dad and he said ‘no.’ I remember sayin’, ‘I know you’re not my dad like that but did you fuck my mother and provide the sperm for my conception?’ He burst out laughing and told me even then I was his son…” Trey trailed off and wiped his eyes with the back of his arm.
“Why didn’t you join the Saints from the beginning?” Linx had to admit he was seeing a different, much more sensitive side to his brother-in-law.
“That was too easy. I’ve had an open invitation to join the Saints since I was sixteen but I didn’t think I could deal with bein’ around all my siblings who didn’t know who the fuck I was except Cillian…and Loire. Boy, was that a fucked up a situation when I realized I busted my own sister’s cherry and fucked her during high school not knowing she and I were…related.”
Hardy lit a cigarette and dragged from it. “Did she know who you were when you two were…a couple?”
Trey nodded. “She didn’t think there was anythin’ wrong with it because it wasn’t like we were raised together. She was just someone the Club put up with and I had a proper family—a mother and father and two siblings—plus it was a big ‘fuck you’ to our old man. Kind of like he should watch where he put his dick because he never knew how it could come back to haunt him.”
Trey finished his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray on the bedside table. “I knew she was there at the club and after we broke up, it was just easier to become a prospect with Jonesy and
the Bastards. Dad always said that was going to be a temporary situation and I bided my time, learned the business and Jonesy knew he would have to let me go when Dad came back to claim me.”
“You know what happens to snitches, don’t you?” Ronan glared at Trey with desolate, violet-blue eyes.
Linx rolled his eyes and knew he would never get along with him.
“No shit. I’ve already told Dizzy I would never disclose anything I knew about the Bastards and Jonesy knows I would rather cut out my own tongue before I would say anything distasteful about his club.”
Hardy’s cell phone rang at the same time as Linx’s. He quickly answered the call as soon as Trista’s face showed up on his screen.
“Hey, babe, what’s up?”
“We were attacked by the WKs today. They shot up O’Branaughs. There were over twenty deaths and a shit load of injuries. Dizzy is climbin’ the walls. If you guys have found Trey, then you need to haul ass outta Belfast and get back here pronto. Shit’s about to hit the fan and I can’t guarantee he’s gonna wait till you guys get back. He’s pissed as fuck and no one can calm him down.”
In Too Deep (The Lovers Duet) Page 10