by Cat Mason
Closing my eyes, I yank a hand through my hair, wishing like hell he would wake up and yell at me, kick my ass, something, anything. “I fucked up, Old Man,” I breathe, remembering what he told me the day I earned my patch.
“Wearin’ this patch doesn’t mean you’ll never fuck up. It means you’re man enough to do whatever it takes to make it right.”
“I’m gonna fix it, Brother. I promise you that.” Scrubbing a hand over my face, I open my eyes and look at him. “Don’t know if you’re listenin’. That’s probably a good thing. If you can, I want you to know that when I bring her home, Cheyenne’s my Ol’ Lady. Kid she’s carryin’ ain’t my blood, but I want it carryin’ my last name. Want it callin’ me Pop.” Blowing out a breath, I square my shoulders, even though I know he isn’t able to see me. “You’ve got your own battle to fight, Old Man. Let me fight the one that brings her home.”
“You in love with my sister?”
Turning, I see Jinks standing in the opened doorway. Stepping forward, he stares me down, waiting impatiently for my answer. “I’ve always had love for Shy,” I reply, honestly. “Can’t think of a time when she wasn’t important to me. Didn’t see the depth of all that before; I sure as shit see it now. So, if you’re askin’ if I plan on givin’ her up when this shit with Teague’s over, the answer is no.”
“Okay,” he nods, seeming satisfied with my answer. “Let’s go get her back.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Shy
Standing in the abandoned steel mill parking lot, my heart feels like it is going to leap out my chest the moment I hear the rumbling of exhaust pipes headed our way. “Your boys are right on time,” Teague says, checking his watch. Straightening his tie, he squares his shoulders. “Malcolm, you and Smith keep our guest company,” he says, rounding the front of the vehicle.
Grabbing my arm, Malcolm nods his head, his lips curling up into a smile. “My pleasure.”
Taking a step back, I yank my arm, trying to get free from his hold. Every time this slime ball touches me, I want to throw up. Anticipating that, he spins me around, yanking my back into his chest. Gripping my face with his other hand, he forces me to stare straight ahead at the approaching headlights. “It’s show time.”
As usual, Stone leads the pack, with Colt and Schrader flanking him on either side. The club’s black van follows, and a large delivery truck brings up the rear. I watch as each bike pulls to a stop, then as Schrader and Stone make their way over to where Teague stands waiting patiently with two of his men.
“Good evening, Gentlemen,” Teague says, extending his hand. “I see you have secured my truck from the Police Impound lot. I’m impressed.”
“Where is she?” Schrader asks, ignoring him completely.
“Connor first,” Teague counters, refusing to be disregarded. “You’ll do well to remember who calls the shots here, Mr. Schrader.”
“Bring him out,” Stone says, looking back at the van.
The side door opens, and my brother hops out, his eyes scanning the lot before unloading a man, wearing jeans and a Georgia Tech sweatshirt. The man’s face is covered with what looks like the same black hood the guys used on Jace. He limps as Jinks shoves him toward where Schrader and Stone stand with Teague and his men.
Jinks yanks the hood from his head and tosses it to the ground. The man blinks several times, his eyes widening the moment they land on Teague, his entire body stiffening. “Mr. Teague,” he says, visibly terrified.
“Were you injured?” Teague asks, looking him over.
“Blew out his knee,” Stone explains. “Nothing serious.”
“Good,” Teague nods. “Wonderful to see you, Connor,” he says, then looks to the man at his left. “Too bad you can’t say the same.”
Pulling the gun holstered at his hip, he fires, shooting Connor in the head. He falls to the ground in a heap at their feet. Looking back at Stone and Schrader, Teague nods in satisfaction and rubs his hands together. “Moving right along.” He gestures our way with an outstretched hand. “As promised.”
“That’s our cue,” Malcolm informs me. Shoving me into view, he wraps his fingers around my neck. I gasp, drawing everyone’s attention. Jinks steps around Connor’s body, his nostrils flaring as he takes another step toward me. “Don’t be stupid, Big Brother,” Malcolm warns, pressing his gun to my ribcage. “I don’t need a reason to want to hurt this bitch.” Moving us forward, he tightens his hold on my throat. “She’s given me plenty.”
Schrader’s eyes fill with rage as he looks me over. Taking a step toward Teague, he clenches his fists tightly. “Hurtin’ her wasn’t part of the deal. He’ll need to answer for that shit.”
“Very well,” Teague nods, then looks back in our direction. “Smith.”
Slamming his elbow into the side of Malcom’s face, Smith grabs the gun from his hand. I stumble forward, falling hard onto my hands and knees in the dirt. Sitting up, my eyes frantically meet Schrader’s as the gun goes off. I scream and wrap my arms around my stomach just as Malcom’s body lands on the ground, inches from me.
“I warned him it would come to this,” Teague says, shaking his head dismissively. “Stubborn, just like his mother.”
“Jesus,” I hiss through my teeth, shifting my body away from Malcolm’s.
“You see, Cheyenne?” Teague continues, glancing over at me. “I don’t need to kill to get what I want. However, when the ability for conversation has ended, there are always those willing to clean up any mess I ask them to. Though, my son, I’d have actually done myself. He has always been a disappointment,” he laughs. “Another trait he shared with his mother, I’m afraid.”
“I prefer to do my own dirty work,” Schrader grounds out. “Actually—”
“If we’re done with the extermination,” Stone says, interrupting Schrader. “How ‘bout we get to the rest of your shit so we can all get the hell outta here?”
“Smith, help Cheyenne to her feet,” Teague orders. “We’re going to have a look at the cargo.”
Drawing their weapons, the two armed guards follow behind Teague and Stone as they make their way over to the truck. The driver door swings open, Huck drops to the ground, accompanying them to the back without saying a word. Smith tugs me to my feet, steadying me when my knees wobble.
Huck unlatches the door, pushing it up to reveal stacks of large wooden crates. “Knock yourself out,” he says, gesturing to the back of the truck as he takes several steps back.
Making his way back to the van, Jinks whistles, then shoots me a look that takes me back to when we were kids. Back to when I was the punk kid Schrader and Jinks used to use to distract the guys while they swiped bottles of tequila from the behind the bar. I nod in understanding, knowing what has to be done.
Shit is about to go down.
Teague is right, we all have our parts to play.
This is mine.
“Oh God,” I groan, wobbling again. Squatting down, I cover my forehead with my palm and gasp for air. “I’m gonna be sick.”
“Hey,” Schrader says, heading our way. “You okay?”
“She’s fine,” Smith argues, tugging at my arm.
“She’s pregnant, dumbass,” Schrader argues, crouching down beside me. Running his hand up and down my back, he looks up at Smith. “Got any water in that cage on wheels?”
I don’t look up, but see Smith’s boots turn and head for the opened back door of the SUV. Gun fire rings out from over by the truck. The two guards cry out in agony and drop to the ground, grabbing for their ankles. Two other men, roll out from beneath the delivery truck, weapons drawn on them. Without hesitation, the men put the guards down with shots to the head. Schrader takes full advantage. Standing, he yanks me to my feet and rushes me toward the van where Jinks is waiting in the back and Torch is behind the wheel.
“Stop!” Smith shouts, firing off a round. The bullet lodges in the side of the van, inches from my head. “The next shot won’t miss.”
Turning slowl
y, Schrader tucks me behind him, pulling his gun and aiming it at Smith. “I came here prepared to die savin’ this woman. Are you willin’ to die tryin’ to stop me?”
The second Smith’s finger on the trigger twitches, there is a pop from behind me. Smith falls to the ground, blood oozing from the hole in his forehead. “Hey, Sis,” Jinks says, wrapping an arm around me. “How’s it goin’?”
“He has more men,” I blurt frantically, pushing his arm away. I scan the lot, my eyes going to the top of the building, searching everywhere for any of the men from Teague’s security team. “They’re gonna ambush us.”
“Trust me.” Shaking his head, Schrader pulls me into his arms. “We’ve got it covered.” Pressing his lips to my forehead, he sighs. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.” Choking on a sob, I close my eyes tightly, breathing deep for the first time in what feels like forever. Wrapping my arms around him, I grip onto the back of his cut, clinging to him for dear life.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Teague roars, making me jump in Schrader’s arms.
“Time for the cherry on the motherfuckin’ cake, Baby,” Jinks says, sounding excited as hell.
“You instigated a war,” a harsh male voice says. Turning my head, my eyes fly open. Stepping out from behind a set of the crates, a man I immediately recognize from photos at the police station stares down at Teague with dark eyes. Antonio Lorzano. “One that I’m more than happy to end here and now.”
The man looks just as menacing as he did in the photos I was shown. Gripping onto Schrader’s arms, I can’t pull my eyes from the scene playing out in front of us. Teague looks completely frazzled, while Lorzano is terrifyingly calm.
Yanking a little black box from his pocket with shaking hands, Teague presses the red button on the side. “You honestly think I came here tonight with only four men?” he asks, arrogantly.
“No. That would be careless,” Lorzano responds, unbuttoning his dark gray jacket before hopping down from the truck. Stepping up to Teague, he yanks the box from his hands. Dropping it to his feet, he stomps on it with his expensive looking black leather shoes, a smirk playing on his lips. “I believe there were six surrounding the perimeter of the property and two on the roof. All of them taken out before Stone climbed off his bike,” he replies, holding up a cellphone. “Stone and I have also sent some associates to your estate. It will be cleaned out and liquidated by morning. You have lost.”
“I have contingencies in place, Lorzano,” Teague threatens, but I can hear the fear in his voice. “No one fucks over Maxwell Teague.”
“Contingencies?” Nodding thoughtfully, Lorzano slips his jacket from his shoulders and places it on the bumper of the truck. He takes his time rolling up his sleeves. “You mean Hilster?” Lorzano laughs. “I can assure you, Teague, I have friends in much higher places than the District Chief you play poker with on Tuesday nights. Once I was informed that you were behind the Feds looking into me, I made a few calls myself. Agent Hilster has already been debriefed and reassigned to a case in Northern Virginia.” His smile widens into something hauntingly frigid. “You and I actually do share something in common. I prefer not to carry out the kills either. Although, I didn’t have to ask anyone to take care of you. You’re so popular there’s a waiting list.” Taking several steps back, Lorzano leans back against the bumper of the truck and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Come on,” Schrader says, running his hands down my arms. “Jinks and Torch are gonna get you the hell out of here.”
“Wait,” I stop him. After everything that has happened, I can’t climb into the van, or leave on the back of Schrader’s bike without knowing this is finished. I can feel Schrader’s hesitance, as well as my brother’s. He wants me away from this, but I can’t walk away yet. Not until I know, without a fucking doubt, that Maxwell Teague is never going to be able to threaten me, or my family, ever again. “I need to see this end.”
“I accepted the title as Chief of Police because of you,” Ashmead says, stepping out from behind the other set of crates. She looks different than how I am used to seeing her. Instead of her usual dress pants and white blouses, she is in black jeans, a black shirt and a pair of tightly laced black leather boots. Pulling the gun from her waistband, she aims it at Teague’s head. “I’d like to express my gratitude.”
“Ashmead’s the new Chief?” I ask, my jaw dropping.
“Yep,” Jinks and Schrader say in unison.
“Is this how he felt?” she asks, staring him down. “Did he feel the fear I see in your eyes while he bled out on the concrete? No, because he wasn’t a coward.” She squares her shoulders, resolution in her eyes. “Take a deep breath, motherfucker. This one’s your last.”
She pulls the trigger. Teague’s body drops to the ground. Looking down at him, Lorzano nods his head slowly. “Very good. Only one more thing to take care of before I go.” Pushing off the bumper, Lorzano’s eyes land on Schrader and me. The two armed men from beneath the truck flank him as he heads straight for us. “We had a deal, didn’t we Mr. Schrader?”
“We did,” he replies, his grip tightening on me. “I was hopin’ to renegotiate that.”
“Not the case I’m afraid.”
Looking up at Schrader, I search his eyes frantically. “What did you do?” I croak, fear clawing at my throat.
“This has to happen,” he tells me. Leaning in, he brushes his lips over mine softly. “Love you, Shy baby. Pretty damn sure I always have.” Schrader’s eyes move behind me. “Get her outta here, Jinks.”
“No. No. No,” I plead, clinging to his leather so tightly my fingers ache. Jinks leaps out of the van. Wrapping his arms around me, he yanks me back. “What did you do?” I ask, kicking and screaming. “What the fuck did you do?”
“I did what I had to do to make shit right.” My heart lodges in my throat. He can’t do this. I can’t let him do this. After all of this, I am still going to lose him. Putting his hands behind his head, Schrader laces his fingers and faces Lorzano. “Don’t make my girl watch this shit.”
“Very well,” he nods.
Bringing back my elbow, I nail Jinks in the face. “Sonuvabitch,” he groans loudly, releasing me to shield his face.
“Get her the fuck outta here,” Schrader growls, dropping to one knee.
“No!” I shout, fumbling from the van.
I don’t get two steps before Colt wraps an arm around my waist. Hoisting me off the ground like I weigh nothing, he pins me to the side of the van. “Let me go, goddammit!” I scream pounding his chest with my fists.
Gunshots turn my knees to mush, time stopping dead in its tracks. I scream until there is no air left in my lungs, my body racked with sobs as I cling to Colt. The pain of knowing what has just happened slices through me, my heart feeling like it has been ripped from my chest.
“You shouldn’t have been here for this,” Colt informs me. “I’m sorry.”
“I told Jinks to put her in the goddamn van and go. Not my fuckin’ fault she can beat his ass.”
Keeping his arm around me, Colt shifts his body. I blink in disbelief when I see Schrader making his way toward me, his eyes filled with pain. Lorzano and his two guards lying dead on the ground behind him.
“Schrader!” I croak, swatting Colt’s hand away and bolting toward him on my still shaky legs.
Holding open the sides of his cut, he nods. “All here, Babe.”
“You asshole!” I scream, shoving him with both hands. “I thought they killed you!” Tears stream down my face as I try to get a handle on my breathing. Wrapping his arms around me, Schrader pulls me tightly to his chest. The fight leaves me almost immediately. Fisting my hands in his t-shirt, I bury my face in his neck, breathing him in. “I thought you were gone,” I sob softly.
“Not a chance,” he replies, clearing his throat. Pressing his lips to my temple, his grip on me tightens, making it very clear that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure about how that shit was going to go down.
“Gotta get th
is shit staged before Ashmead calls it in,” Stone says, interrupting our moment.
Pulling back, I look around at the guys, watching as they move quickly to get everything into place. Guns are switched out, bodies moved and staged. Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. My Pop isn’t here. Yes, he was hurt, but nothing would have stopped him from being here.
Unless…
“Schrader?” I ask, looking up at him. “Where’s Pop?” His eyes widen and he swallows hard. Breaking eye contact with me, he looks toward my brother, who has a nearly identical look on his face. They lied to me. Shoving out of his embrace, I wait until his eyes find mine again. “Take me to him.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Schrader
With every plan, there is potential for either success or failure. Whether it is making a sandwich, planning a vacation, or steamrolling over every motherfucker who has threatened your club and woman in the last few months with a downpour of bullets and bloodshed; it all takes a little careful planning and a lot of fucking luck. Being that my plan had multiple stages only made the possibility for failure that much more probable. I have no problem admitting that I was putting all my eggs in one weak ass basket. Having gotten rid of Teague and his men, I knew it was possible that Lorzano would expect me to take that bullet knowing that Cheyenne was safe. Did I offer my life in exchange for her safety? Yes. Was it my plan to actually eat the goddamn bullet? Fuck no.
If I go out like that, it sure as hell won’t be unarmed and on my knees like a little bitch. Whoever manages to kill my ass is damn sure working for it.
Cheyenne is asked several times, by all of us, to go to the Emergency Room and get checked out, but swears she is fine and refuses. After checking her over myself, I see nothing other than the bruising on her neck and one side of her face. Even though that is enough to make my goddamn blood boil, I know how much worse it could have been. Had it been anyone other than her, they probably wouldn’t be standing here. Shy is a fighter. Tough as nails. I fucking love that about her. So as angry as I was when I saw the marks that bastard put on her, it was hard as hell to hide the pride I felt swelling in my chest knowing my girl handed back better than she got.