Wicked Revenge: A Wicked Angels MC Novel

by Zoey Derrick

  “Hunter,” Taz yells and she runs toward him.

  “You got him,” I breathe and then everything goes black.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  LOKI

  “What’s wrong with her?” I ask anyone who will answer me.

  Cowboy comes to stand in my light. “Is she breathing?” he asks and I nod. “She bleeding?” I shake my head. “She have a pulse?” I gently wrap my fingers around her neck, feeling her heart beat strong, maybe a little too fast, but it’s there. I nod. “Then she’s just experienced an adrenaline surge.” He gives me a smile. “She’ll be fine. Some people can’t handle the adrenaline.”

  I nod, but look back at her peaceful face. It’s like she’s sleeping. I frown.

  “What the fuck did she do?” someone growls, and I look up to see Big Daddy surging through the crowd of bikers.

  “She got her revenge,” I tell him at the same time Rooster groans on the ground.

  “Well, fuck me sideways,” Big Daddy says as he gets an eyeful of Rooster. He’s fucked in four corners and has no hands to try to suppress the pain. It’s almost comical to watch. “Get him out of here,” Big Daddy orders and Sketch and a couple of his ATF buddies come over and assess the situation. Sketch laughs at the moron on the ground.

  “Darius Rufus Beaumont, you’re under arrest for extortion, bribery, kidnapping, false imprisonment, assault with a deadly weapon and the murders of Kevin and Lillian Beaumont and the attempted murder of Kellen Beaumont…”

  There is a collective gasp at the words ‘attempted murder of Kellen Beaumont’ followed by some murmurs from the guys. I can’t make out all of them, but they’re all pretty confused. “Kellen’s dead,” someone finally says.

  “No, I’m not,” Pyro says from the back of the crowd of people. I can’t see him from here but hear the collective gasp and chatter that follows through the mass of Angels standing around.

  Movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention and Sketch and his buddies pick Rooster off the ground. “I don’t know how you’re gonna explain this one away,” one of his guys says.

  “I’ll just tell them she missed,” Sketch mumbles but they help Rooster to the SUV they showed up in. Sticks, Big Daddy and Cowboy laugh at Sketch. He knows damn well she didn’t miss.

  My attention is drawn back to the crowd of Angels in the street.

  “Why?” I hear someone ask.

  “For this very night. The night where we take down the man who was destroying this club, destroying the name we’ve spent the last five decades trying to build into a good, reputable name,” Tryke says.

  “What now?” someone hollers.

  “Now, you name a new Pres,” Sticks says. “Tomorrow, noon, clubhouse common room. Those wishing to make their bid, prepare. Those with nominations, you’ll have your chance to voice them and three hours to decide. At which point, the Veterans will vote on your nominations and if need be, the members will have their chance.” Sticks puffs out his chest a little. “Then tomorrow night, we party,” he announces and there is a collective cheer among the men, some fist to chest pounding. Some people approach Tryke. I can’t hear the things they’re saying, but no one seems disappointed to see him. It makes me smile. Everything has fallen into place.

  Too bad Kiwi isn’t awake to see it.

  The crowd disburses. Bikes fire up and roar off down the street until there’s just our little circle left. I’m still sitting on the ground with Kiwi in my arms. Her guns are on the ground at my side. “We have a problem,” Pixie finally says to me.

  “We didn’t want to let the others know, but we don’t have Gunnar,” Big Daddy shares.

  “We found the boy alone in the warehouse,” Tryke says.

  “Where the hell is he?” I growl.

  There’s a collective shrug among the men standing before me. “What about Rooster’s house? The money?” I ask.

  That’s when I notice Whistler, and a couple of the Tucson guys are missing from the circle. “We sent Whistler in to collect,” Tryke says. “We have it.”

  “All of it?”

  “Aside from the stacks we caught Gunnar stealing on the tape, yeah, it’s all there,” Big Daddy confirms.

  “Now we just need to find Gunnar,” I growl.

  “We’re working on it. Sketch has some of his guys on it too,” Sticks says. “Get her inside, tuck her in. She’s gonna be out for a while.”

  “I think I should take her to the hospital,” I say softly.

  “She’ll be alright,” Tryke says. “Mom used to faint when shit got too real, too.” He smirks. “Just let her sleep it off, she’ll be fine in the morning.”

  “God, I hope so,” I grumble and awkwardly try standing when Tryke comes over and scoops Kiwi into his arms. “Thanks,” I tell him.

  He smiles wider at me and I stand up. I take her back and he opens the front door. I carry her down the hall and lay her on my bed while Tryke stands at the door. I carefully remove her vest, her corset isn’t as easy, but I manage. I leave her topless and then pull off her boots and jeans. Leaving her in only her underwear. I kiss the top of her head. “I’m so proud of you,” I murmur.

  Reluctantly, I leave her to sleep it off and follow Tryke out to the living room. “You really love her?” he asks me.

  “More than anything in the world since she was three.”

  “That’s gross, man.” He scowls at me.

  “It wasn’t like that, and you know it.” I shoulder check him.

  “Take good care of her and we won’t have issues.” His voice is soft, but definitely threatening in his Tryke way.

  “I’m gonna marry that girl one day,” I tell him.

  He busts out laughing. “You said the same shit when she was born and we were nine.”

  I laugh with him, “I knew it then.”

  He holds out his hand and I take his forearm and he takes mine before we bump chests. “You didn’t have to come out to them,” I tell him. “You could have crawled back to your hole and they wouldn’t have been the wiser.”

  “Yeah, well, I feel better about it and I really fucking hate this haircut,” he laughs.

  “The scar?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “It was my own fault,” he mumbles. “I could have it removed or reduced, but I kind of like it.”

  “The chicks dig it,” I tease him.

  He laughs and we leave the house, locking it up as tight as we can.

  “I want someone on the house,” I say when we rejoin the guys outside.

  Big Daddy cocks his head toward the shadows where Axel is sitting on his bike. One of our highest ranked Veterans and the next in line for Sergeant-at-Arms, should I vacate the position. “We trust him?” Pixie says.

  “Implicitly,” Tryke adds. “He’s the one responsible for my being alive. Not to mention half the shit Sketch has to take out Rooster.”

  I concur with his assessment just as someone’s phone rings. Big Daddy pulls his phone out, answering it. “Whistler, what’s doin’?” he asks.

  He shakes his head. “Fuckin’ Christ, alright.”

  “What’s up?” I ask when he disconnects the call.

  “We got nothing on Gunnar. No clue where he took off to.”

  “I might be able to help with that,” Tryke cuts in. “We have to go back to the house though.”

  “Lead on,” Pixie says and we all mount our bikes. I can’t help my eyes roaming over Kiwi’s bike as I go for mine.

  “What happened to Opie?” I ask.

  “Whistler has him now. Looking for Gunnar.”

  I cringe. Whistler got his nickname because he likes to whistle while he interrogates you. When the whistling stops, you’re dead.

  I climb on my bike, looking back at the house again. It’s dark and quiet, no lights, no movement and I want nothing more than to be inside with her right now, but I have a job to do. I have to make sure she and my princess are safe, forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  LOKI

&nbs
p; We pull up to Tryke’s place and Pixie, Sticks, Big Daddy, Cowboy, Tryke and myself dismount and head inside. “What are we looking for exactly?” Pixie asks.

  “I put a GPS tracker on Rooster and Gunnar’s bikes. As long as they weren’t discovered, we can pinpoint his location.”

  “And if he’s not on his bike?” I ask.

  Tryke grins at me. “Then I have his car and his cell phone.”

  “And if none of those come back?” Sticks asks.

  “Then we’re fucked,” Tryke grumbles.

  “Killjoy,” Big Daddy says. “Pull ‘em up. I’m losing patience with this.”

  “On it,” Tryke says as he sits at his bank of computers in the living room. I never understood half this shit, but he’s definitely got everything he needs to do what he’s doing. Big Daddy spared no expense when it came to all this shit. Tryke had his own nest egg, but the club paid for it all. Some of the equipment came from Sketch and the ATF. We’ll have to return it eventually.

  He clicks some buttons and the big screen comes on. I can’t tell what’s happening, I’m too stupid for this shit, but as long as he knows, we’re golden.

  I’m watching the screen when three feeds come up, one in Rooster’s office at his house, the safe sitting open, no doubt the way Whistler left it. The next is the clubhouse, which is rotating between cameras. Apparently, a bunch of the guys went back there because the place is crawling with people.

  “What’s gonna happen with Taz?” I ask.

  “She’s banned from the club,” Cowboy says.

  “That’s it?” I ask. “he tried to kill me, nearly killed Kiwi, and you’re only gonna ban her from the club?”

  “Don’t push it,” Sticks snaps. “She did what she did because she didn’t have a choice. For whores like her, banishment from the club is a life sentence. Short of killing her and leaving her kid without a mother, there ain’t much we can do besides have her arrested. Attempted murder of you, plus assaulting your old lady would carry at least a twenty-year sentence. So again, we banned her from the club. Shifter’s not far behind.”

  I nod. I guess it could be worse. I want her dead, but not at the expense of Hunter living his life without his mother. Bad enough his father’s a bastard when it comes to him and Taz.

  My eyes roam down to the third screen. “Is that…” I step closer to it, “Kiwi’s house?” I ask him.

  “Yup, installed it a few days ago,” he tells me.

  “When?”

  “I’m pretty sure you were rocking her world,” Pixie adds and I look at Tryke in time to see him shudder. I swallow my chuckle as I turn back to the screen. The cameras at Kiwi’s switch between inside and outside the house. One of them lands on Piper’s room. I can see she’s sound asleep, oblivious to anything else going on.

  A fourth camera pops up. “Jesus, ya fucking voyeur,” I grumble as my house pops up. The feed flips between different cameras before landing on my bedroom and Kiwi sleeping. “Can you change that?” I groan as I see Kiwi sleeping, on her back, her tits out.

  “Leave some clothes on her next time,” Tryke says and the camera shifts, flipping through the feeds. On the outside camera I see Axel on his bike smoking. “Alright, here’s his phone, though it’s off. The last location was the warehouse.” He clicks some keys. “His truck is showing parked at his house.” Another camera pops up and I assume it’s Gunnar’s place.

  “Fucking pig,” Cowboy grumbles and I have to agree with him. It either looks like the man hasn’t got a clue what a rag is, or he’s never around there long enough to do anything about it.

  “We can go back through the footage later,” Tryke says. “If he was there, it might give us a time frame on how far away he is. But he didn’t take his cage.” Our term for cars – you’re caged in, no wind in your face, no open road beneath your feet. There’s some more clicking on the keyboard. “And this is his bike…” he pauses, drawing out the word slowly. “That’s impossible.”

  “He found the GPS?” Big Daddy asks.

  “Had to, or he got rid of his bike, which I don’t see happening.”

  “When was the last time anyone saw him on it?” I ask.

  “The funeral,” Pixie says. “We were all riding.”

  “He had to have found it, though I don’t know how that’s possible,” Tryke says. “It’s nearly fucking invisible and…shit.” Something dawns on him. “He swapped his wheels. I clipped it on a spoke.”

  “Well, there goes that,” I grumble.

  “Wait,” Tryke says. “His phone just came back on.”

  “Where?” Sticks asks.

  “Triangulating now, give it a sec,” Tryke says distractedly as he watches his monitor.

  “How’d you even get the phone’s GPS anyway?” Cowboy asks.

  “Church,” Tryke says.

  “Ahh,” Cowboy says as if that answers everything. It sort of does. Phones aren’t allowed in church; therefore it would be easy to snag it because they’re all in a box while we’re in our club meeting.

  “Okay, got it,” Tryke says and the screen changes to a map, covering the cameras. “He’s outside Pixie Sticks,” he says.

  “Prolly went to check and see if I was dead, which means he has no idea what Rooster was doing.”

  “We got eyes on Taz?” Pixie asks.

  “No,” Big Daddy snaps. “What happens to her now is her problem. If something happens to Hunter, it’s her issue unless Shifter comes to us, and even that’s a stretch.” Big Daddy is pissed and I can’t say I blame him. Taz fucked up royally tonight. Not only did it get Rooster shot by Kiwi, but gave Sketch more problems to deal with than he should have. I should be grateful he’s not pissed at Lily because he has every right to be.

  “We ridin’?” Pixie asks.

  “Let’s do it,” I add.

  “Can you bring this shit with you?” Sticks asks Tryke.

  “Yeah,” he says before closing one of his computers and tossing it in a bag.

  “Then let’s go,” I say as I head for the door.

  IN THE DARKNESS

  I lick my lips as I watch her chest rise and fall.

  Her tits exposed, nipples hard.

  My cock is throbbing, but I’m biding my time, waiting patiently for the right moment to strike.

  I finally have her in my sights.

  It’s time to take down the cunt who showed up and ruined everything,

  KIWI

  “Mmm,” I moan as Loki’s beard tickles my back. His body presses against mine. Still clothed, that’s disappointing.

  I lull in and out of consciousness as Loki continues kissing and licking up and down my back, but it’s weird. The beard feels too long, the lips too rough and the mouth too wet. “Loki,” I moan.

  “Guess again, bitch.”

  Before I can react, my mouth and nose are covered by something and I’m breathing something in with a noxious smell. My head starts swimming, and my world spins into blackness once again.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  KIWI

  My head shoots to my right.

  Pain registers.

  My head shoots to the left.

  My cheek is on fire.

  I taste pennies in my mouth.

  My head flies back to the right.

  “Wake the fuck up, cunt.”

  I hear the smack, my head flies to the left, the pain ignites in my cheek. I groan in pain.

  “Much better,” the voice snarls.

  I try to open my eyes, but they’re so heavy. My mouth is dry and it tastes like I’ve stuffed my mouth with metal, but it’s not blood, not exactly, I slide my tongue along the roof of my mouth, trying to wash away the taste.

  “Chloroform, effective but disgusting,” a voice says. It’s softer than the original voice. I try and place it, but my brain isn’t functioning like it should.

  The last thing I remember was shooting Rooster, then Loki wrapped his arms around me and then nothing.

  Images flicker in my mind, but I can�
��t make sense of them.

  I finally manage to open my eyes and the room is dark, except the spotlight I’m sitting in. It reminds me of some mafia movie I watched years ago.

  Another smack causes my head to jerk back to the right, the pain more intense. “Fuck off,” I growl and spit. My cheeks are on fire. Blood fills my mouth. My tongue slides along my teeth, still intact. Then my tongue slides along a scrape on the inside of my cheek and I taste more blood.

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” a gravelly, nasally voice asks me and I stiffen. It’s Gunnar. It was Gunnar who took me, but from where?

  How’d he get ahold of me?

  “How the fuck should I know?” I say through swollen lips.

  My head is whipped to the left and I grit my teeth.

  “Try again, cunt,” Gunnar snarls at me.

  “How the fuck would I know?” I say again.

  This time I brace for an impact that doesn’t come. Gunnar steps into the light. His face is red with anger, his beard full of shit like he’s been kissing gravel. “Where’s Rooster?” he asks me this time.

  I shrug as best I can. That’s when I realize my hands are bound behind me, tightly. The pain of my bindings cuts into my wrists as I try and move. I test my legs, they’re bound too.

  All of a sudden, my nipple is being pinched, hard, and pulled outward. I cry out. I realize now that I’m topless, no shirt, bra. I look down my body and I can barely see the thin black panties I’d put on this morning. “Where’s Rooster?” he says again, grabbing hold of my nipple again, pulling and twisting harder. It burns as pain shoots through me and I thrash under his touch.

  “I killed him,” I growl at him.

  “Bullshit,” he says before connecting with my cheek again.

  My blood begins to boil.

  I test my bindings again and pain shoots through my arms as I do. My shoulders are aching. I look into the darkness and someone else is standing there. I narrow my eyes to focus on who it is, but I can’t see.