No Prisoners MC Box Set

by Lilly Atlas

  “Jesus Christ,” Acer muttered. “Is that—”

  Jester shook his head and spoke in an equally low tone. “Shut it.” He called, “What the fuck is this, Snake? We don’t give two shits about your prisoners.”

  Snake snarled. “I was supposed to leave this at Emily’s house for her. Last part of our deal. You know, since she ratted on you. Told me you’d be waiting to ambush me back at our clubhouse.”

  Shit. She told the truth?

  Despite the fiery heat of the day, Jester’s blood froze in his veins. His trigger finger twitched. One more millimeter and Snake’s worthless life would be over.

  “Hold your shit together, Jester. Bullets start flying and we’re just as dead as they are.” Striker warned at an almost imperceptible volume.

  “Turns out she was a lying bitch. Guess that means I can dispose of him.” Snake’s jaw was clenched and anger gave his lifeless eyes a spark. He aimed his gun at the bloody man just as a cloud of dust rose up and moved toward the group. Everyone froze as a dark pickup truck rolled to a stop.

  “Snake?” A man completely hidden from view called out from the bed of the truck.

  Not being able to see him meant they weren’t able to shoot him either. What the fuck was Snake up to?

  “What you got there, Casper?”

  “A little something I think you’d love to have,” he called to his president.

  A body fell from the tailgate and landed on all fours on the ground. The same voice gave her instructions in a low but still audible tone. “Walk around to the side of the truck. Don’t try anything heroic, girlie. I’ll put you down before you get two steps away.”

  Jester watched, not breathing as a filthy and disheveled Emily rounded the truck and came to a stop next to the driver’s door. In a knee-jerk reaction, he lunged forward. Striker and Acer both grabbed him, their muscles bulging as they fought to hold him back.

  “I told you to hold your shit together. You charge out there you’ll be dead in two seconds and that won’t do shit for Emily.” Striker’s voice was hard and authoritative.

  Jester locked eyes with Emily. The panic and fear in her gaze refocused him. “I’m cool. I’m not gonna charge.” He shook off his brothers’ hold but kept his attention on his woman. How the hell had she escaped from the clubhouse?

  “Well, well, well. It’s a real party now. Welcome, Emily. I was just telling your lover here how much of a lying bitch you are.” He stepped closer to Emily and every fiber of Jester’s being itched to take him out, but Casper would put a bullet in Emily for sure.

  When Snake reached Emily, he slid an arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side. Body rigid, her gaze pierced Jester’s.

  Snake leaned in and whispered something to her. She shook her head and struggled against him, but the effort was useless. He towered over her in height and strength, holding her next to him as easily as if she were a small child.

  Snake lifted his weapon and pointed it directly at Jester.

  Despite everything that had happened today, he’d take the bullet if it would spare Emily, but it wouldn’t.

  “No, no, no, no.” Tears streaked down Emily’s face as she twisted in vain. “Please don’t shoot Jester. I’ll do anything you want.”

  “Well then, in that case…”

  In the fraction of a second before it happened, Jester knew what Snake would do. He opened his mouth to scream a warning, but Snake moved so fast, the crack of the bullet was out of the gun and flying toward Johnny before a sound could leave Jester’s throat.

  “Noo!” The deep cry torn from Emily was so full of tortured anguish that for a moment silence descended upon the mountain pass as each man listened to her weep and fight against Snake.

  That sound would play in Jester’s nightmares for years to come. Would she have reacted the same if the bullet had struck him? He shook off the shameful thought and tried to block out the sound of her despair so he could focus on getting her to safety.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  A bullet whizzed by his ear, much too close for comfort. Jester dove for cover behind the van and scrambled until his back was pressed against the heated metal. Pops of gunfire rang out from every direction.

  Emily was out in the open. A sitting duck caught in an MC gun battle.

  “Hold your fire!” he screamed with as much force as he could muster. “Don’t shoot Emily.”

  “They took her,” Striker called from a few feet away, also behind the safety of the van. He reached his arm around the end of the van and shot off ten rounds without looking at his target. “Snake tossed her in the bed of the truck and took off.”

  Christ, this nightmare grew more horrifying by the second.

  “Hear that?” Acer yelled.

  Jester didn’t have eyes on him but his voice was close. Engines revved and dust filled the mountain pass.

  “I hear a bunch of Grimms fleeing like little girls.” Striker called back.

  “Fuck yeah.”

  They were safe, and no one was screaming about any fallen brothers, but Jester didn’t feel an ounce of that victory. Where the hell would they take his woman?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  All gunfire ceased as the final Grimm brother sprayed gravel and shot out of the mountain pass. Following would be useless. Snake had too much of a lead, and they’d just end up in another firefight if they caught up to the Grimms.

  “Three Grimms are down!”

  Jester sprang out from behind the van and joined Striker and Acer, jogging toward the fallen bodies. Two Grimm Brothers lie motionless in the dirt, and a third, Johnny, gasped and writhed on the ground.

  Blood poured from a wound in the younger man’s shoulder. Given the condition he’d been in before he was shot, his chance of survival couldn’t be good. Jester tried to care, but it didn’t happen. Whoever the hell Johnny was, he was the reason Emily was involved with Snake.

  Acer dropped to his knees and yanked his shirt over his head. With steady hands, he balled the fabric up and pressed it to the kid’s shoulder using enough force to draw a cry from his bruised lips.

  Jester squatted down and pressed the business end of his pistol to the center of the kid’s forehead. Johnny looked him square in the eye, earning a tiny fraction of Jester’s respect. “You want me to let him save you?”

  The kid nodded.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Johnny.” His voice was raspy, a ragged whisper.

  “I know that much. You fucking Emily?”

  Despite what had to be excruciating pain and despite the fact that the kid had about three drops of blood left in his body, he let out a bitter laugh followed by a groan. “Don’t know what goes on in your freaky family, but no, I’m not fucking my sister.”

  Familiar pale eyes held his gaze. Not quite as light as Emily’s, but bearing a strong resemblance. The weight of his mistake crashed on Jester as heavy as an icy avalanche. His heart cracked wide open and bled far worse than Johnny’s shoulder.

  One minute.

  If he’d given her one minute to explain what happened, she’d be safe and secure, waiting for him and Johnny at the clubhouse.

  Instead he chose not to trust her, not to believe that she could love him.

  “Fuck!” He paced away from Johnny. Helpless was not something that Jester tolerated. He’d do whatever it took to get Emily back, or die trying. His brothers would take care of her if something happened to him. He had no doubt about that.

  If he did rescue her, he’d spend the rest of his life making up for this mistake. And if she told him to fuck off—which she’d have every right to—he’d find some way to make peace with it. As long as Snake didn’t harm her, Jester would live with a broken heart if he had to.

  He stomped back to Johnny and knelt, returning the pistol to his head. “You’re going to agree to three things or Acer here will walk away and let you bleed out.”

  Acer and Striker exchanged a wary look, but Jester ignored their
unease. He would suffer the guilt over his treatment of Emily as long as he lived, but the greatest burden of blame still landed on Johnny.

  “Who are you?” Johnny whispered.

  “I’m your angel. Whether I’m your angel of death or angel of mercy is up to you. One. Rehab, cold turkey, I don’t give a shit, but you’re done with whatever your poison is. You will not get another chance. I catch even the slightest whiff that you may be high, and you’re done. Say yes.”

  Johnny turned a bit green but nodded, keeping eye contact with Jester. “Yes.” His voice grew weaker by the second.

  “Two. You come in contact with any of the Grimm Brothers in any way and you’re done.”

  Johnny nodded again.

  “And three.” Jester leaned in close, the barrel of his gun steady between Johnny’s eyes. He spoke in a low tone his brothers wouldn’t overhear. “I see one tear fall down Emily’s beautiful face because of something you do to her, and you’re done. Your life’s not worth a tenth of hers.”

  “Fair enough.” Johnny coughed and groaned when the hacking racked his body.

  “Now tell me where the fuck they may have taken her and we’ll get you to Striker’s woman for some help.”

  “They got a house.” He paused and sucked in a whistled breath. “Shitty neighborhood, last house on the block.” Johnny coughed and moaned, trying to hold his hands to his ribs.

  Jester resisted the urge to shake him and scream at him to speak faster. He wanted to crawl out of his skin. Every second it took Johnny to get the information out was one more second Emily spent with Snake.

  When he calmed, Johnny continued. “Wren Court. Only three other houses, all abandoned.”

  Jester stood. That’s all they needed to find it. He whipped out his phone as he strode toward his bike.

  “Whoa. What the fuck you think you’re doing, brother?” Striker cut him off, got in his face.

  Jester growled at him. “VP, get out of my way.”

  Striker ignored him. “Jester, you can’t hop on your bike and ride out there like a Harley fuckin’ cowboy. You got one pistol and you need back up.”

  He shook his head and tried to shove past Striker. Fuck that. He’d be just fine.

  “I’m not askin’, brother. We do this smart, go back to the clubhouse and reload. I promise we won’t waste time. The Grimms are pissed we got their money and they’ll be on the warpath. They’re loading Johnny now, and I sent Acer ahead to do whatever the fuck he does with those satellite feeds. We need to be prepared.”

  Shit. Striker was right. Hard as it was to delay, they needed a solid plan, and more artillery.

  “Fine. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  He pushed past Striker and mounted his bike. “Wait, VP, did you say we got their money?”

  Striker barked out a laugh and pointed across the sand. The Grimm’s van was still parked there, four deflated tires rendering it useless.

  “Holy shit,” Jester muttered. He’d been so consumed with thoughts of Emily he hadn’t noticed the van. “How?”

  “Hook shot out all four tires. Grimms couldn’t drive it out, so they abandoned it.”

  Jester smiled for the first time in hours. At least one thing went right today. The grin only lasted a fraction of a second as he fired up his bike and shot off toward the clubhouse.

  Drip. Ninety-seven.

  Drip. Ninety-eight.

  Drip. Ninety-nine.

  Emily huddled in the corner of a dark basement and counted drops of water as they fell from a rusted pipe to a small puddle a foot away from her. The mindless activity was a poor attempt at distracting herself from the unbearable pain deep in her soul.

  Every muscle in her body ached from being slammed against the bed of the pickup truck. When the bullets started flying, Snake literally threw her in the truck. She’d fought like a wild animal until he slapped her face hard enough to rattle her brain. Since then it was easier to stare straight ahead, not reacting to anything that happened.

  They drove her…somewhere, and tossed her in the basement before they ran off hollering about their stolen money.

  A small part of Emily’s brain screamed at her to get up. To look for a way out. To be prepared to fight for her life when they returned.

  But she didn’t move.

  What was the point? Johnny was dead. The only person in this world who—despite his many faults—loved her. Not only was he dead, but he died because of her failings. Guilt, remorse, and regret would be her constant companions from here on out.

  Then there was Jester. Jester, who’d stood expressionless while she pleaded for his life. Jester, who believed she’d used and betrayed him. Jester, who she loved.

  Tears slid down her cheeks, but the energy to lift a hand and swipe them away wasn’t there. Everything she cared about had been taken from her. Nothing remained of the life she had before Snake, and nothing of the life she’d come to want since him. Nothing but pain and sorrow.

  Nausea rose swift and fierce as an inconceivable thought forced its way into her mind.

  Was Jester even alive?

  She pitched forward, onto all fours, and retched, painful spasms gripping her stomach. She hadn’t eaten since the day before, so there wasn’t anything to come up, but that didn’t stop her body from trying. When the worst was over she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

  She didn’t deserve to have it answered, but she sent up a prayer anyway, asking for Jester’s life to be spared and for some small relief from the pain in her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jester hopped off his bike and charged toward the garage. Most of the weapons stock was housed in an underground storage container accessible from the back of the garage.

  Acer met him halfway, his arms held out as though prepared to hold Jester back. Over Acer’s shoulder Jester could hear a commotion coming from the garage.

  “What’s with the racket?” he asked Acer.

  “Listen, brother,” Acer began, his hands still up like he was ready to stop Jester if he charged.

  Jester looked over Acer’s shoulder. From his vantage point he could see straight into the garage. The door to the room that had held Emily was wide open. Colt sat on the cot with a mulish expression. Shiv paced the small room, obviously yelling.

  A sick feeling overtook him. He looked at Acer. “Is he—did that piece of shit—” He didn’t bother to finish his question. Jester plowed forward and shoved Acer to the side. No way was there a chance of Acer stopping him at this point.

  He burst into the room, and wrapped his hands around Colt’s throat despite Shiv’s protest. “What the fuck did you do to her? I swear to God if you touched her in any way….”

  Colt couldn’t answer. His face turned purple and he gagged, grasping and clawing at Jester’s forearms, but he was no match for the combination of strength and rage coursing through Jester.

  “Jester, let him go.” Shiv’s voice was calm, but firm.

  It would be so easy to squeeze just a little harder, until Colt passed out, then keep squeezing until the life drained from him.

  “Jester!” Shiv’s voice was sharper this time.

  He released one finger at a time, smiling when Colt collapsed on the cot wheezing and gasping.

  “Fucking psycho,” he managed to choke out amid coughs.

  Jester leaned down. “You have no idea. I better not see you when I get back.” He stood and turned to Shiv, ignoring Colt’s complaint of abuse.

  “I’m sorry about how this all played out, Jester,” Shiv said. “Weapons are loaded and we got guys ready to go. Acer knows where it is. Not much activity on the street beside the Grimms.” He inclined his head toward Colt. “He will be dealt with.”

  Jester nodded and accepted a brotherly hug from Shiv. He jogged out of the garage, back to his bike.

  Crushing pain slammed into Emily’s side and she jolted awake. With a groan of agony, she tried to clear her head and make sense of her surroundings. She ached a
nd throbbed, the air was surprisingly cold, and she’d apparently been sleeping on the floor.

  The day’s events flooded back to her and her eyes flew open. She looked up from her spot on the floor.

  Casper loomed over her, a giddy smile on his face. Though he was clearly not in charge, he scared her more than Snake. Something about the look in his eyes. Like an inmate who’d escaped from a prison for the criminally insane.

  “I’ve been hoping for some time alone with you.” His nasally voice made her cringe. Nails on a chalkboard would have been preferable.

  Emily didn’t respond. What did he expect her to say?

  He held a pale, skinny arm out to her, palm up, but she just stared at him.

  “I’m being nice, girl. I don’t have to be nice. Would you rather me haul you up by your hair?”

  She stood without his assistance, gritting her teeth as a stabbing pain reached her ribs. Rising to her feet took three times as long to struggle through on her own, but she’d die before voluntarily touching that man.

  Casper waited about three feet away from her, a frown on his pasty face. “You must be pretty damn good if you were able to control Jester with your snatch. I can’t pass up the chance for a sample.” His look of unhappiness with her rejection of his hand morphed into one of lust with the statement.

  Oh God. Emily’s stomach bottomed. She pressed herself against the wall as though she could disappear through it if she tried hard enough. This, she could not let happen. She refused to die with the memory of Casper’s touch on her skin.

  He stalked toward her, the outline of an erection visible in against the front of his pants. Bile rose in her throat but she swallowed down. She also fought to keep her face impassive, remembering they got off on her fear. She could not, however, stop the screams in her own head.

  When Casper was close enough to touch, Emily spit in his face and enjoyed the look of shock that transformed his bald head for about one second before his fist connected with her face. Pain exploded in her head, blurring her vision and preventing her from being able to protect herself.