by Karen Renee
When the athletically-dressed Slayer finally left the area, it took nearly ten minutes before Cal ambled over to where Roll was seated. “Slayers like that we took out their competition, they just don’t like us using their calling card to do it.”
“What’s done is done,” Roll said.
Cal almost grinned. “Yeah. We brought them more heat, but Volt’s good with the peacemaking. Heathen may want us, but he’s also got to deal with the Slayers. Those boys are making hay while the sun’s shining.”
Roll was still hunched over his knees and he shot his gaze up to Cal. “None of this sounds bad.”
Cal shook his head. “Wouldn’t be except the Leatherneck’s President approached the Slayers—”
“Leathernecks want to pit the Slayers against us, too,” Roll muttered.
“Yeah.”
“Biggest downside to the plan,” Roll said.
Cal’s gaze intensified on Roll. “You didn’t speak up at church.”
Roll tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Might say I’ve been bloodthirsty. So, the Leathernecks are moving into smack?”
Cal deliberated before answering. “Wouldn’t think so, but then again anything’s possible. They were attempting to get into flesh in November, but that never took. Right set-up, smack can be damn lucrative.”
No doubt heroin would make them some money, especially with the Devil Lancer operation dismantled as the Riot brothers had done recently.
“Not sure I’d trust anything they told us, but did the Slayers say if they’re listening to what the ‘Necks have to say?”
Cal’s smile was sinister. “A-Ron says he doesn’t trust anyone other than a fellow brother, but under the circumstances, he trusts them far less than he trusts us. Like I said, he’s unhappy we pointed things their way when we eliminated the Lancers’ other two cook-houses. But, seeing as how we left two houses fully intact, he’s willing to overlook that if the Slayers can claim ’em.”
That shit wasn’t up to Roll, so he had nothing to say to it. A blur of royal purple caught his eye, and he realized Abby was coming their way. When she stopped in front of them, her face was grim.
“Don’t like that face, woman,” Cal muttered.
“He needed another transfusion. Not a good sign.” She sighed, looked around, then asked, “Where’s Trixie?”
“She and Mallory are giving blood. They’re both type O.”
“Good, but I pray he doesn’t need any more.”
“Prayers? You tryin’ to tell us something?” Roll asked.
She shook her head. “They never hurt.”
“He’s gonna pull through, dammit.” Roll said, through clenched teeth.
Abby nodded. “Gotta get back. Just thought you’d both want to know what I know.”
He and Cal lifted their chins at her as she left.
A few minutes later, Trixie wandered back with Mallory, carrying a diet Mountain Dew and a bag of Funyuns.
“How in the hell can you eat that at a time like this?” Cal grumbled.
Trixie’s head tilted a little before she answered. “I’m a stress-eater. Add guilt to the mix and it’s gonna take more than doin’ the Dew and some processed food to make me feel better.”
Roll narrowed his eyes on his woman. “What the hell do you have to feel guilty about?”
Her eyes bulged at him. “If we didn’t need to go to my—”
“Stop,” he bit out.
“What? It’s true.”
“Bullshit,” Cal grumbled.
Trixie shot a nasty look at Cal.
“He’s right,” Roll said, getting her eyes back. “None of this is your fault, so don’t feel guilty.”
“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled.
Roll stood up and moved to her. “Not easy for me, seein’ as how I shoulda been the first one in the door.”
“Shut your mouth,” Trixie snapped.
Roll shook his head. “Shoulda been me.”
“Don’t go there, brother,” Cal said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Trixie
I finished my Mountain Dew and Funyuns feeling a jumble of emotions. Roll could tell me it wasn’t my fault that Rage was in ICU, but it did nothing for the guilt eating at me. I was also pissed as all hell because Iggy had no business coming after Roll or me, and especially not by sitting in my apartment. Making matters worse, I knew Roll and Yak had taken Iggy somewhere, and I would never get my own licks in with that asshole. How I was going to find an outlet for my anger was beyond me.
When I got to the hospital, I was amazed to see Mallory was already there. Major and Liar had brought Rage in, and once they were done answering questions from the admitting nurses, they took off. I had asked them if I could go with them because I knew they were headed to wherever Yak took Iggy, but it was out of the question because it was ‘club business.’
I was guessing she sensed my anger, and Mallory had put her hand on my arm. “How about we do something productive like give blood. I overheard someone saying he was going to need a transfusion. Our blood might not make it to him, but it’ll help us feel like we’re doing something.”
Roll and Cal were waiting for us when we returned from the blood donation area, and neither one of them looked any worse for wear.
Hearing Roll say he felt guilty about what happened to Rage was surprising. No matter how selfish it made me, I was glad Roll wasn’t the one to take Iggy’s stabbings. There was no telling how crazy it would’ve made me had Iggy attacked my man.
Roll and I settled in a small loveseat in the waiting room. He put his arm around my shoulders and I leaned my head against his shoulder. “This sucks,” I whispered.
My head moved as Roll took in a big breath.
“He’s gonna pull through.”
“Yep,” I breathed.
My body jolted and I opened my eyes, realizing I had fallen asleep on Roll.
“What the hell was that, Trix?”
“Sorry, I just dozed off and saw what hap—”
“Okay. It was just a dream, darlin’.”
Before I could agree, Abby approached us. “Finally, I have some good news.”
“That is?” Cal asked.
“They’ve got him stitched up, and the last transfusion seems to be good. He’s being moved to a room on the fifth floor.”
“That is good news,” Mallory said.
Ten minutes later, Roll and I were standing at the side of Rage’s bed. He was out, and it was eerie to see him that way. I was used to his endless energy. Foot tapping, hands moving, a glint in his eye telling you he needed something to do. Had I not known he had received two blood transfusions, I would’ve wondered why he hadn’t been given one, because he looked so damn pale.
“Jesus,” I breathed and looked up at Roll’s hard-set face. “I assume it took you a while to get here because—”
“Shut it,” Roll snapped in a low voice.
My eyes bulged. “I just wish I could hurt the person who did this to him. More than once, but I suspect—”
“Shut. It. Trixie.” Roll snarled, but pulled me to his side. Feeling his bulk next to me was reassuring, and helped pacify some of my rising anger. It didn’t keep my mouth shut though.
“He’s gotta pull through, dammit.”
“I will,” said a croaky voice.
I looked down to see Rage had his eyes open, but just barely. Relief swept through me in a rush.
It was short-lived, and I asked Roll, “Is he supposed to be awake?”
“Don’t know, how about you go ask a nurse.”
I nearly pointed out there was a call button for just that sort of thing, but I suspected Roll wanted time alone with Rage, so I acquiesced.
In the corridor I ran into Abby.
“He’s awake. Said he’s gonna pull through. Should he be awake?”
She smiled at me. “No, and yes.”
She hot-footed it into the room, and I found a nearby chair to slouch into.
Roll ca
me out when another nurse entered the room. “Let’s go outside, babe. I need a smoke.”
I couldn’t hide my spiteful look at his need for nicotine, but he just chuckled at me.
“Nothin’ funny about smoking ‘round a woman who’s already quit.”
“You’re right, but I still find your ass funny when you’re peeved.”
While Roll sucked on a Marlboro, I called Andrea and Rainey. They could let the other Riot women know the state of things. I slid my phone in my back pocket and looked up to see Heathen’s dull hazel eyes.
“What the fuck?” I asked, but I heard it in stereo because Roll was at my back with the same question.
“Think you can kill my brother, fuck my woman.”
“She’s his sister,” I snapped.
His eyes cut back to me. “Shoulda fucked you before we dumped you.”
That pissed me off in the worst way, but it pissed Roll off even more because the next thing I knew Heathen was sprawled on the ground clutching his throat. I realized Roll had viciously throat-punched him. I expected Roll to continue beating the man, but suddenly he had him up and clutched to his side as if they were buddies.
Then they were moving through the parking lot, and Roll muttered over his shoulder, “Stick with us, baby.”
Halfway to Rage’s SUV, which I had driven to the hospital from my place, Heathen struggled against the hold Roll had on him. I watched Roll pull Heathen’s arm up tight behind his back and his body strung taut with pain. Roll jerked his head at the back of the vehicle and I bleeped open the hatch.
When it fully opened, Roll said, “Get the rope, Trix.”
I moved with the coil of rope that was back there to tie Heathen myself since he was struggling against Roll, but I heard something fall on the ground.
“Even fuckin’ better. Get those zip ties,” Roll said.
Five minutes later, Roll had Heathen tied up tighter than a trussed turkey in the back of the SUV. We motored to the Riot compound, obeying all the traffic laws along the way.
“Get in the clubhouse, Trix,” Roll said as Blood approached the vehicle.
I didn’t like being in the dark, but I’d been around these guys long enough to know it was not time to argue. I opened the door and Blood leaned toward the cab.
“Christ, Roll. We just dealt with one Lancer, now you got another one. You’re pushin’ our luck.”
The sun was setting, the sky painted with lavender and pale pink, such that the light around us seemed rosy. I moseyed away, but the thundering roar of multiple bikes grabbed my attention. That golden rose-hued light hit the Harleys just right. My eyes were glued to the spectacle of Har leading eight other Biloxi brothers through the front gate of the compound. His sandy-blond hair was strewn along his forehead from riding at high speed, and I could swear I felt his eyes on me though I couldn’t be sure, because he was wearing an awesome pair of black Oakley wraparound sunglasses. It was criminal for one man to be that sexy and mount an even sexier bike.
On that thought, I was startled by Roll barking, “Trixie,” and I knew I had to get my ass inside.
Roll
Roll shook his head as he watched Trixie scurry into the compound. He wanted to tan her ass when he saw the look on her face at Har and the others rolling into the forecourt. Focus was paramount with a rival MC President in the back of a vehicle though.
Har came up alongside Blood at the open door to the SUV. “You got the asshole who carved up Cereal-girl?”
Roll’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need a reminder of how quickly Trixie could get familiar with someone and he damn sure didn’t need someone like Har shoving it in his face when he damn well knew to call her his property, since that was what she was.
“Yeah,” he forced out.
Har exchanged a look with Blood and swung into the passenger seat. “Let’s go, then.”
“’Scuse me?” Roll demanded.
Blood grinned. “Volt came to Macclenny straight from Daytona. Earlier, he and Har had an early-afternoon sit down with the Devil Lancer mother chapter president. Seems Heathen’s bein’ cast to the wolves.”
Roll arched a brow. “By wolves, you mean us?”
Blood offered a bland expression. “Didn’t say that…”
“He didn’t not say it, either,” Har put in. “Now, let’s get this shitshow moving. I’m itching to see how sharp my new knife is.” After a pause, he added, “Or isn’t.”
Fifteen minutes later, as Roll pointed the SUV toward I-295, Har spoke.
“Pull into this gas station.”
“What the fuck for?” Roll asked.
“Do it. It’s an order.”
Roll’s jaw clenched again. Seemed Har had a knack for irritating him. Guiding the vehicle to the side of the convenience store, he said, “You don’t even know where we do our wet work—”
Har’s green-eyed glare cut him off. “Not where we’re headed. Less you know about this, the better off you and Trixie’ll be. And you better take damn good care of her. She’s the reason I’m puttin’ my neck on the line.”
“You can take your neck off that line. More than able to handle this shit.”
A nasty smile twisted Har’s lips. “It lands you in prison, not jail, Trixie doesn’t get those babies from you.” He paused to jerk his head toward an advancing Brute. “Brute’s gonna trust you with his bike. We’ll be back for our bikes when business is taken care of.”
Jesus! He had to get Trixie’s loose lips under control. How Har knew about her desire for babies he didn’t know, but something in Har’s tone raised a red flag.
“You know somethin’ I don’t? Got no reason to think I’d be headed to prison.”
“Leathernecks aren’t stupid. Two of their brothers down in the last six months after confrontations with Riot members. Bush’s death was pinned on a drug dealer, but they know Prank was trying to avenge Bush. Prank hasn’t been around in months. Before we met with the Devil Lancers, the Leatherneck president cornered me and Volt asking us point blank where he was. Volt said he didn’t know. Cops were looking for a man named Hollingfeld as far as he knew. Prez of the ‘Necks said that’s bullshit, but he didn’t push it with us like I thought he would.”
Roll dipped his head to the side to keep from nodding. “They aren’t just playin’ the Lancers and Slayers against us,” Roll surmised.
Har nodded. “Confirmed by the asshole in the back to the Devil Lancer mother chapter. President of that chapter, Steel, had him on speaker for me and Volt. We heard firsthand how proud Heathen was about striking an allegiance with the Leathernecks. Steel, however, was not so pleased about it.”
Roll had no idea how they finagled that sort of meet, but it was another reason he wasn’t President material. Heathen was yelling around his gag, but neither one of them paid him any mind.
Both men opened their doors, but before he angled out, Roll spoke. “Thank you—”
“Don’t thank me,” Har cut him off. “Just take care of her. She’s a damn rare woman.”
As Roll approached Brute on the passenger side of the SUV, the sounds coming from inside the vehicle sounded stranger than they should have. If Roll wasn’t mistaken, it sounded like laughter from Heathen.
Roll gave Brute a sideways glance. “What the hell does he have to laugh about?”
Brute rounded him and pulled open the hatch Har had released. He yanked the gag out of Heathen’s mouth.
“Putt’s got your tight-assed niece right now.”
Fury gripped Roll bodily, but knew he couldn’t give into it.
“He’s full of shit,” Har grumbled.
Heathen speared Har with a look. “Iggy wasn’t supposed to follow him and his cunt.”
Har jabbed him in the nose.
After a moment, Heathen said, “Shoulda let my brother File, have his way and taken the little sister, too.”
Anger filled the air, but Har kept his cool.
“Divide and conquer. Roll, take Brute’s bike.” He turned to Brute
, “I’m with Roll on a prospect’s bike. The prospect and a few other brothers’ll help you carry out the plan with this asshole.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Trixie
I had moved toward the corridor to Roll’s room when my phone vibrated and rang on my hip. Since Roll had just left, I didn’t think about checking the display, and simply mashed the ‘Go’ button.
A small voice filled my ear.
“Aunt Trix, I’ve been taken,” Leah said stiltedly.
My spine went straight and I thought of jumping in my car, but remembered it wasn’t here. Shit! In the confusion of dealing with Rage’s injuries, and Iggy, that little voice told me not to listen to Roll, and to stick to my guns of driving my own car. It just figured that I wouldn’t know why I needed to do that until it was way too damn late.
“Where are you?” I demanded.
“I was blindfolded, but this place is small. Dirty, and in the woods from what I can see out the —”
I heard a tussle on the other end of the line, and then a man’s voice from far away.
“Fuck, Putt! Didn’t you check if the little cunt had a phone.”
The line went dead and I did an about-face, going direct to Blood.
“They have Roll’s niece! I need a car.”
“How do you know?” Vamp asked.
My eyes bulged at him, but I managed to downplay it so he’d still take me seriously.
“Leah just called me! I gotta get to her.”
“We’ll handle—” Blood started, but I was not having that.
“Have you faced a Devil Lancer’s blade? Have you been raped as a teenage girl? I am goin’ to be there for her, Goddammit!”
We were in the common room and I knew most of the Ol’ Ladies were there, which meant I had just let far more of my dirty laundry hang out, but that was not about to keep me from helping Leah. No way would I let a fifteen-year-old girl be marked the same way I was marked at thirteen.