Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 2: Gage ~ Cash ~ Knight (Vengeance MC series Book 8)

by Natasha Thomas

  Unfortunately for her, she doesn’t know Meg. Giving my best friend a harsh warning look, followed by a kick to the shin under the table, I give Jess my kindest smile.

  “Please excuse her, she’s ovulating at the moment. Her hormones turn her into a raving beast at this time of the month.”

  Grinding her teeth loud enough for us all to hear, Meg repeats,

  “Dead. To. Me.”

  I ignore Meg, continuing to smile at Jess, asking,

  “Would you like to join us? I’m sure your big, strong brother won’t mind pulling up another table and chair.”

  Jess’ eyes flick between Jonas, Meg, and I hurriedly, assessing whether or not to accept my invitation.

  “I don’t…I mean, I think,”

  “Jess has work to do,” the deep voice of my nightmares rumbles. “Maybe she’ll have a drink with you some other time,” Dex answers for her.

  When I see the shy, half-smile Jess give Dex, it takes less than a second to realize she has feelings for the big, bad biker. I’m not shocked; Dex is hot after all. Jess would have to be a blind, deaf, virgin nun with no hands not to be attracted to him, but attraction isn’t the extent of what I see reflected in her eyes. Jess is in love with him.

  Utterly incapable of reading people, Meg – who shall now be known as screaming, tactless bitch from hell – overlooks the fact that Jess isn’t accustomed to her form of welcome, snapping,

  “Pardon me, but we didn’t order a side of shit biscuits, so if you would kindly remove yourself my appetite might decide to make a reappearance.”

  Dex doesn’t blink, he simply stares at her the muscle in his jaw ticking frantically.

  “I don’t know who the fuck you are, and I don’t care. Watch your mouth, or get the fuck out.”

  In a move that would make psychotic friends everywhere jealous, Meg pushes out of her seat, climbs onto the table, crawling across it until she comes to the end where she executes a dismount the Olympic gymnastics team would be envious of.

  This is what I was afraid of. I love Meg, no matter how many times she’s gotten me arrested and banned from bars. Regardless of her crass exterior, lack of filter, inability to know when to shut up, and prolific use of the word whore as it pertains to me, I still adore her. And Dex? Well, he’s just Dex. The first person I ever trusted. My first friend. The boy I went to for everything. The first and only man I’ve ever loved. Hence, you should be able to see my dilemma. I don’t want either of their deaths on my conscience, I really don’t.

  Meg apparently doesn’t share my fear of her impending demise, jabbing a finger in Dex’s chest, shouting,

  “You don’t know me, but I know all about you. I know that you made the biggest mistake of your pathetic life walking away from her,” she spits, gesturing to me. “I know that you continued to fuck up by not going back and that if you had she wouldn’t have been forced into a situation no woman should ever have to face. And I fucking know,” Meg growls, “that whatever bullshit deal you made to dig your parents out of the hole daddy dearest put them in wasn’t worth the words you wasted on it.”

  Dex’s head snaps around, his eyes drilling into the side of my face. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. All of the oxygen has been sucked from the room, his anger filling the space in its place.

  “Do you want to know what else I know?” Meg taunts recklessly.

  Needing to do something to shut her up because she’s already said too much, I snap,

  “Meg, that’s enough. Sit down before you hurt yourself.”

  “Fuck that, Aislinn. I’ve been waiting for years to tell this gutless piece of shit what I think of him.”

  “Excuse me,” I mutter to Bella as I practically clamber over her lap. Reaching Meg’s side, I grab hold of her arm and whisper in her ear. “I’m asking you, for me, please don’t. Not now. Not here.”

  I’ve got a fifty-fifty chance at this working because when Meg’s off on one, you never know what to expect. Shaking her head, Meg confirms what I thought; she’s not going to back down.

  “I’m sorry, Linny, but I can’t.”

  “Please,” I beg.

  Meg knows what she’s doing, and she knows what she’s risking by going through with this. When I told her what really happened all those years ago, Meg promised if she ever got her hands on Dex she’d annihilate him.

  At the time, I didn’t think I had anything to worry about, considering I hadn’t seen him for years and didn’t expect to again. That didn’t stop me from making sure Meg knew that if she ever told Dex what had happened to me, our friendship was done. Done in a way there would be no coming back from.

  “I love you, Aislinn, but it’s time. You do what you have to, and I’ll respect that, but I won’t respect myself if I don’t do this,” she reassures me sadly.

  Tuning out everyone but Dex, Meg lowers her voice.

  “What I know is that no man leaves a girl he claims to love to save him and his family by giving the only thing she has to barter. I know there is not one person on the face of the Earth who would do what Aislinn did for you without regret or second thought. I know for a fact that you’re the reason she stayed when she should have run as far away from the hell that was her life on a daily basis. But what I know most of all is, Aislinn Marie Banks would have been better off never having met you, Dexter Peters.”

  The collective gasps of the women and Jonas’ low growl have tears stinging the back of my eyes.

  “I’m so, so sorry my beautiful friend,” Meg manages to get out before she turns on her heel and runs out of the diner.

  My heart breaks for her. Literally breaks.

  “Sweetie?” Beth’s gentle voice whispers. “Why don’t just you and I sit down for a minute? Jonas, I think it would be a good idea if you call Fury and get him to come pick Avery up.”

  The door to the diner slams open, and in it stand four ravaged looking bikers. Boss doesn’t hesitate, his footfalls are like claps of thunder echoing off the walls as he makes his way over. Cash, his brother Jump, and a man I don’t know but assume is Fury – if Avery’s mad dash into his arms is any indication – follow directly behind him.

  Snatching Beth into his arms, Boss buries his face in her neck, breathing heavily. No one needs to speak for me to know whatever this it’s not good. Something Boss confirms less than a minute later.

  “Clubhouse now. No stops. No detours. That means you too, Jay. Get hold of your mom if she isn’t here, same with Jess, and call Torr and Goff. Everyone needs to be locked down within the next half hour because when the compound gates shut they aren’t being opened for anyone.”

  Dex is the first one to speak up, barking,

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  Boss’ voice is monotone, but there’s no mistaking the thread of devastation when he says,

  “Diesel’s dead.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  ~ Gage ~

  “Dear God; please let there be a zombie apocalypse on the horizon so I can start shooting all these motherfuckers in the face.”

  – Gage’s secret thoughts

  If one more person asks me how I am or says “sorry for your loss,” I can promise you now, I will lose my fucking mind.

  It’s been four days since Boss delivered the news about Diesel. Four very long, emotionally charged days and today is only going to be worse. We bury our, VP, brother, friend, but more importantly, Emily’s son this afternoon.

  Words fail me when I think about Emily’s reaction to finding out her son is dead. I can’t begin to describe the look of devastation that washed over her features as soon as Boss sat her down to break the news to her. Not that I expected Emily to take it well, but I hadn’t anticipated her reaction would require she be sedated and locked in a room at the clubhouse for fear she’d go out and hunt down the motherfuckers who took her son from her.

  Sarge has been on ‘Emily Watch’ the entire time, and will be until Boss says otherwise. No one has any idea Sarge and Emily are
together, and I wouldn’t have either if it weren't for me being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  *****

  I’d been working on Maddox’s hog all morning when I called it quits for the day; the parts I needed to get it up and running again had to be special ordered – the supplier informed me it would be, at least, three days and that’s if they put a rush on it. My first mistake was deciding to eat at the clubhouse rather than the diner. My second was being under the mistaken impression that a kitchen is used to store and prepare food.

  Let me tell you, walking in on two almost sixty-year-olds getting their freak on is not something I want or need to witness ever again. I’ll give Sarge this, though. The man is in shape for an old guy.

  Unlike a lot of Vengeance brothers who have either served in the military, worked in one of the branches of law enforcement, or were born into the lifestyle, Sarge is just your regular run of the mill kind of guy. A mechanic by trade, he graduated high school with no higher aspirations than to build bikes for the rest of his days.

  Since Sarge has no ties to the armed forces and is more likely to be the threat not rescue you from one, how he got his road name is interesting, to say the least.

  Honestly, I would’ve preferred not to have heard the story once, let alone a hundred times, but even at my brothers demands to shut the fuck up, Sarge persists in telling anyone who will listen.

  And so the story goes…When in the armed forces, what do you do every time you come in contact with a superior officer, like say, a sergeant? You stand to attention and salute him of course. So, according to Sarge and his dicks ability to come to attention whenever a willing woman is around, his road name is more than fitting.

  If you ask me, that shit is not okay. Sure, I get it; he’s a man and has the necessary equipment to prove it. But seriously, do we all have to be subjected to the knowledge that he throws wood on command? The answer is quite simply, no. No, we do fucking not.

  Back to the point, though.

  Sarge and Emily have been fighting like cats and dogs ever since they first laid eyes on each other, which explains why it shocked the shit out of me when I walked into the kitchen to make lunch to find them fucking on the counter.

  Now, I’ve seen a lot of women naked, performing various, and in some cases, logistically impossible sexual acts, but this took the fucking cake. Emily undressed to any degree is not something I’ve ever desired to see, and that hasn’t changed.

  What’s the saying? “What’s been seen can never be unseen.” Yeah, well, that shit’s true. And unfortunately for me, Sarge plowing into Emily from behind will be forever etched into my brain, making me wish I could bleach the images from my brain.

  Incidentally, they didn’t look like two people who hate one another, far from it. What they were engaged in wasn’t angry sex, if anything the way Sarge touched her was reverent. Sarge was worshipping her. As much as it pains me to say it – and it absolutely does – they looked good together.

  I’m not a pervert, and I don’t get off to visions of geriatric sex, so don’t go thinking I meant that how it sounded. What I’m trying to say is that Sarge and Emily just fit; they suit each other. Emily might enjoy pushing his buttons, finding out what new and exciting way she can piss him off next, but deep down, I don’t doubt Emily cares about him. And by the looks of it, more than the same can be said for Sarge

  *****

  Misleading name or not, Sarge is the undisputed backbone of Vengeance MC. Hard working, loyal to a fault, more often than not, the voice of reason, Sarge is probably the most respected man I know. Why he won’t accept a position in the club is beyond me, but every time one becomes available, he turns Boss down. Which brings me to the question of who’s going to step into Diesel’s shoes. It’s too soon for Boss to put it to a vote, but we all know which way he’s leaning.

  Customarily MC’s promote within their own ranks, meaning as SAA my name would be put forward first. However, Vengeance has never adhered to traditions before, so why start now. If I had to place bets on it, I suspect Fury will be the man who eventually dons the VP patch. He deserves it too.

  I love all of my brothers and respect the hell out of them, but it’s no secret that I’m closest to Fury and Cash. Fury’s background – where he came from, and what he did before patching in – is a far cry from my own. Cash’s, however, is remarkably similar.

  As the older brother, Cash took care of Jump after their mom died of a drug overdose when he was sixteen. With no family, friends, or even neighbors willing to take them in, they ended up living in abandoned buildings, back alleys and squatting in foreclosed houses in preference to being placed in foster care. I can’t say I blame them either.

  State-run group homes and foster parents are the stuff nightmares are made of. Too many kids, not enough time or resources, and severely underpaid and overworked case workers lead to kids falling through the cracks all the time. Cash knew this too, which is why he took any odd job he could get his hands on to make enough money to keep his little brother fed and clothed.

  It was a harsh introduction to the world, living the way they did, or it would have been for Jump if Cash hadn’t shielded him from the majority of it. He acts like it wasn’t a big deal, anyone would have done the same he says, but I have a feeling there’s more to the story than he’s letting on and Cash’s trying to downplay it by keeping quiet.

  “You still with me, brother,” the man in question asks.

  Before I zoned out, Cash was telling me about the arrangements for today.

  “Am, now,” I confirm, watching as his expression turns dark.

  “I fucking hate this,” Cash growls. “We’re burying our VP because of some bullshit vendetta.”

  I don’t disagree with him on the first point, but there’s something about this that just doesn’t add up.

  “I get why everyone’s quick to think Rebel Warriors or the Cartel are responsible, but what if it’s not? Vengeance has a lot of enemies, and people have long fucking memories, Cash. Something about the hit on Diesel just doesn’t sit right with me. The Cartel would want us to know it was them; they’d advertise their hand in it if they had to. Rebel Warriors might be out for blood, but not even they are stupid enough to take out another clubs’ VP. Think about it, brother. Diesel had nothing to do with the Beth, Bec, Avery, or Blaine, and they’ve got no clue he was there when we blew their Wyoming clubhouse. Shit, since Diesel got together with Cami, he’s not even at the clubhouse unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  Narrowing his eyes at me, Cash asks,

  “What are you getting at?”

  “It’s too neat. Too convenient,” I reply immediately. “Why take out a guy who has little to no involvement in what went down? I wouldn’t want to be doing this shit for any of our brothers, but it makes more sense if it had been Boss, Fury, or Jay they’d targeted.”

  Considering me carefully, Cash shakes his head sadly.

  “You’ve got a point,” he mutters, mulling it over. “But if it’s not either of them, then who?”

  I’ve spent the majority of the last four days asking myself the same question. Knowing Oscar Vasquez, I discounted the Cartel relatively quickly. Like I said to Cash, Vasquez would take out a billboard advertisement to announce his participation in Diesel’s murder. He’s not the type of guy who’s into clandestine shit; he’d carry out his retribution swiftly and brutally, making it unquestionably clear it was him.

  While this could have been retaliatory, Rebel Warriors wouldn’t risk the all-out war them killing Diesel would instigate. Their MC isn’t the largest with only four chapters now Wyoming is no more. They don’t have favors to call in, nor do they have the skilled manpower in-house to carry out a hit on a rival MC’s VP. In fact, I’m surprised they had the wherewithal to involve the Cartel in the diner shooting, to be honest, that’s how insignificant the threat they pose to Vengeance is.

  So with that in mind, I grit my teeth and answer,

  “I need to get
my hands on copies of the autopsy and ballistics reports. If this was Cartel ordered, the slugs would be hollow points. Vasquez doesn’t fuck around, he likes to make a statement, and that statement is messy. On the other hand, Rebel Warriors only deal in .45 caliber rounds. Ruger’s, Glock’s, Beretta’s, and Springfield XD’s, all of them semi-automatics, all of them use the same ammo. Those motherfuckers are cheap. They recycle their weapons job-to-job, which means there’s a good chance they’ll be in the system somewhere. Sly can access police databases and run the searches, I just need the reports to confirm the preliminaries.”

  Without hesitation, Cash replies,

  “I’ll reach out to Callie after we get back from Diesel’s service before the wake. She owes me a marker anyway, and it’ll only take her an hour tops to get what you need.”

  Callie Stewart is Cash’s ex-fuck buddy. They had a mutually beneficial arrangement, which was entirely based on no-strings-attached sex whenever either of them had an itch that needed scratching. It worked for them for a few months until Callie started hinting at wanting more, that is. As soon as she mentioned the possibility of a relationship, Cash ended it with her.