by Lane Hart
“I-I just do. I’ve been in touch with some of the Knights and overheard the details.” I would never give him Wirth’s name. For all I know, Cormac could use that against him somehow to turn the club against Wirth. “Promise me, on my life, that you’ll agree to my one condition and I’ll tell you.”
“Fine. I agree. What do you know?”
“In the morning at four a.m. they’re going to attack the pub.” When he doesn’t respond, I ask, “Did you hear me, Rian? You can’t be there tomorrow at four a.m.!”
“All right. Got it. Four a.m. I’ll let Cormac know,” he says with a sigh like he’s about to end the call.
“Wait! You can’t tell him or anyone else. That’s my condition, and you promised me!”
“Then what the fuck is the point of you telling me then? You know I’m not going to leave Cormac and the other guys there to get murdered in their sleep.”
“You can still get everyone out of the building, as long as you don’t tell them the reason so that they can stay on the outskirts of the bar to attack the Aces from behind! There has to be some excuse you use, right? Rian? You swore to agree to my condition on my life!” I remind him.
“I’m thinking!” he shouts. “I may have an idea. Cormac’s been talking about wanting to do some stupid beach bonfire thing one night. I’ll make sure it’s tonight and that everyone is so drunk we crash on the dunes.”
“You think you can convince Cormac to do that this late?”
“I think so, yeah,” he agrees. “He owes our family…”
“Good. Then that’s perfect!” I say with a heavy exhale of relief. “You swore on my life, so you better not back out. If you do, I could end up dead for telling you what I know.”
“That doesn’t make any sense…” he says.
“Well, it’s true,” I reply even if it’s not exactly the truth. I don’t think Wirth would kill me, but I’m not going to take the chance that he could get killed in an ambush after he caved and told me how to save Rian’s life. If the other guys in the MC find out I was involved in betraying them the whole time I was in their clubhouse, well, I wouldn’t put it past Hunt to take his revenge out on me personally.
“Call me when you’re at the beach so I know that everyone is okay,” I tell Rian.
“Fine, mom,” he says it like it’s an insult, when that’s exactly how I see him. I’ve been like a mother to him since he was born, even though I was only six. I had to grow up incredibly fast, giving up most of my own childhood years. Our father left me no choice and then made sure there was nothing left of my innocence when I was sixteen.
No matter what Rian does, I won’t ever stop loving him. I just wish he didn’t do so much stupid shit that puts his life in danger…and now mine.
Chapter Sixteen
Wirth
There are two dozen men squeezed into our pool hall in Carolina Beach by two a.m., putting on bulletproof vests and loading up on guns and ammo.
I don’t like this plan, but I’ll go along with it because that’s what it means to be loyal to part of a brotherhood. We have each other’s backs; and when it comes to it, we would take a bullet for each other.
Fiasco is still laid up in bed at Joanna’s, not because he loves it there, but because now he’s running a high fever. The infection isn’t going away with the antibiotics, so she’s going to try and get her hands on stronger ones. At least she hopes it’s just an infection and not some sort of internal issue.
So, this morning, before the sun comes up, we’re doing this for him. For Malcolm and Hunt too, who could’ve been killed. That kind of violent attack against the MC can’t go unanswered even if it means risking our lives. If we didn’t hit back, other clubs and groups could think we’re weak and try to encroach on our territory across the state and up in Virginia where we’ve expanded.
“Everyone have the address for the old mall?” Malcolm asks. “That’s where we’ll park our bikes and then head to the pub on foot, so the bikes don’t give us away.”
Once everyone nods or voices their agreement, we saddle up and are rumbling down the highway in only a few minutes. I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I’m on auto pilot as I ride in our convoy, only snapping out of my dark thoughts once Malcolm, out in front of the rest of us, pulls into a parking lot. We file in behind him, killing our engines and then immediately dismounting. We’re out on the edge of the mall’s lot, well away from any security cameras, but we’re still careful as we cross the road on foot towards the Irish pub.
All the lights are off, including the pub’s neon signs out front. A few vehicles are in the lot, but otherwise it’s a ghost town. It’s almost too quiet out here. I start to mention that when Silas kicks in the front door. At the same time, I hear pounding coming from the back of the building, then everyone is running inside.
The front room is where the bar is located, along with a few tables and chairs, and several booths around the sides. It’s also empty, so we head down the hallway where someone calls out, “Hold your fire! The place is empty!”
“Empty?” Malcolm repeats, stepping inside one of the rooms and flipping on the lights. It’s a messy bedroom where someone sleeps, but not tonight.
Sure enough, all of the six smaller rooms are in the same state as well as an office and the storage rooms.
Fuck.
“Fuck!” Malcolm exclaims, echoing my sentiments.
I should’ve known Maeve couldn’t do the one thing I fucking told her, which was to let her brother know the plan without anyone else finding out.
What the hell was she thinking? Doesn’t she realize that now, more than before, the MC is going to know someone ran their mouth, that we have a rat? And eventually, someone will figure out that rat is me…
“Now what?” Devlin asks. “Should we still rig up the bomb?”
“No,” Malcolm clips out. “Everyone out! Now!” he yells, pushing us toward the front door. “For all we know, this is a goddamn trap!”
Jesus. He’s right. My heart starts racing, worried that, by feeling sorry for Maeve and running my mouth to help her brother, I’m going to get us all killed, myself included.
But once we make it outside and don’t find an angry Irish mob waiting to blow us away, I can breathe a little easier.
“Back to the bikes!” Malcolm orders, and we all march back silent, lost in our own thoughts.
Maeve
I sit up in bed to answer my phone the second it rings. I’ve been holding it and my breath until the clock clicked past four a.m.
“Rian? Are you okay?” I ask him in a rush.
“You were right,” he says softly like he’s whispering to avoid anyone overhearing him. “The security cameras just alerted Cormac to motion. There were more than a dozen of them. Looks like they didn’t trash the place or even steal anything. I can’t tell if Cormac is relieved we weren’t there or suspicious of me for suggesting we head out tonight. Heh, fuck you very much for that, I suppose.”
“I don’t care,” I tell him in relief. “I don’t care what he thinks as long as you’re alive. How could he be mad or suspicious when no one died?”
“Because it’s quite a coincidence, Maeve. He’s been going through everyone’s phone…”
“Everyone but yours?” I ask.
“Oh, he looked at mine too. You’re the only person I get calls from. He hasn’t forgotten about how ‘close’ you were to the Knights.”
“Whatever,” I tell Rian. “He can put the blame on me all he wants or come after me, but I don’t regret it. He’s being an idiot, and it’s going to get you and him both killed if he’s not careful.”
“I’m sure he would love to hear that,” Rian mutters. “Gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I agree as he hangs up.
Now, I can finally snuggle back down into my bed and try to get some sleep knowing that my brother and Wirth are both safe tonight.
Chapter Seventeen
Wirth
“Someone in
this room is a goddamn rat!” Malcolm roars while slamming his fists down on the wooden table. There’s barely standing room in the chapel; but for whatever reason, I think that’s how Malcolm wanted it, all of us crammed together while he goes off on us, trying to put pressure on the traitor.
“If so, then why weren’t the Irish there to ambush us?” Hunt asks. “It doesn’t make sense for them to not take advantage of the situation. Where the fuck were they, and why didn’t they get us when we were vulnerable?”
“Hunt’s right,” Dev agrees. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Malcolm says, looking pointedly at me like he already knows I’m to blame. “And we’re not leaving this fucking room until someone talks. No one but the men in here knew our plan. No one!”
Maeve is going to get me killed. I’ve always said that women are not worth the trouble, and here I am, my head on the chopping block because she’s got me pussy whipped after less than two nights with her.
No, this is worse than being pussy whipped.
She’s got the fucking whip wrapped around my neck about to hang me with it.
“I know who the rat is,” I speak up and say. The room goes so silent you could hear a pin drop.
“Well, let’s hear it,” Silas grumbles from where he’s standing next to me, practically breathing down my neck.
“It’s me. I’m the rat.”
A few guys swear, others gasp.
“You dirty motherfucker!” Hunt shouts, and then he pulls out his gun to point it at me. “It’s your fault I almost died!”
“That’s your own goddamn fault, you stupid son of a bitch!” I yell back at him, pulling out my gun from the back of my waistband to aim it just as fast. “Maeve’s brother is a part of the Irish fucking mafia, you blind idiot!”
His right hand holding the gun lowers. “Maeve?” he repeats. “No fucking way!”
“Do you really not vet your girls?” Malcolm asks, not looking all that surprised. Shaking his head, he says, “Blinded by the pussy. We’ve all been there.”
“So, what are we going to do? Kill the bitch?” Silas asks from beside me. I ram my elbow into his face without even a second thought. Blood pours from his nose but that doesn’t stop him from swinging his fist at my face.
“You son of bitch!” he roars while laying into me.
“Stop it right the fuck now!” Malcolm says when he and some of the other guys intervene to pull us apart. “Open the door and put all the guns the fuck down now! The lack of oxygen is making us all lose our damn minds.”
Finally, some of the men escape the chapel, Malcolm encouraging everyone but the original Dirty Aces members and new Knights to leave.
He doesn’t shut the door, though, making sure that they can listen if they want, proving he has nothing to hide and won’t be giving me any special treatment just because I’m part of his crew.
“You told Maeve our plan?” Malcolm asks as I keep rubbing my aching jaw that feels displaced when I open my mouth.
“I only told her so that she could get her brother out of there. He’s all the family she has left. She wasn’t supposed to tell them all. Rian’s only eighteen.”
“Eighteen-year-old boys can fight for their country, so they won’t be getting a free pass from me,” Malcolm says when he lowers himself into his chair at the head of the table. “Was he one of the shooters?”
“Yes.”
“Then he’s man enough to pay the fucking consequences!”
“If the pub hadn’t been empty, sure, yeah, we could’ve taken out a few, maybe even the ones responsible for the shooting. But we would’ve lost men too!” I point out. “So, to me, I guess it was worth the chance. I don’t regret telling her, and I won’t fucking apologize.”
“He has to be punished for his fucking betrayal!” Hunt declares.
“So that’s it, huh? You turning in your cut?” Malcolm asks.
“If that’s what you tell me I have to do, then I guess I won’t have a choice, will I?” I ask him.
“Not unless you’re going to set shit right on your own.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“You made this mess. Now you need to clean it up,” Malcolm explains.
“I won’t let you hurt Maeve,” I tell him.
“That bitch is mine,” Hunt says through clenched teeth while cracking his knuckles. It’s good to see his gun is no longer in his hands, but there’s only one thing for me to say to that.
“Over my cold, dead body.”
“That can be arranged,” Hunt replies and then reaches again for the gun in his shoulder harness. Malcolm is faster, pulling his out and shooting it about two inches over the man’s head.
“What the actual fuck?” Hunt yells when he ducks down, his eyes wide in surprise, mouth gaping in disbelief.
“You touch that goddamn gun again and I’ll blow your head off myself, Hunt,” Malcolm warns him. “This is all your fucking fault for not telling us about the Irish before you patched in and for not keeping your girls in line.”
“My fault?” Hunt scoffs as he straightens again.
“That’s right,” Malcolm agrees. “Glad you’re starting to get it.”
“This is all on him,” Hunt says, pointing his finger at me.
“I didn’t get anyone shot or killed,” I respond. “Fiasco still isn’t on his feet because of you. So, turn your fucking finger right the hell around.”
That finally shuts him up. Hunt leans his back against the far wall and slips his hands into his pockets. The man is a hothead. I think he could make a decent president eventually; he just needs to take responsibility for shit.
“What the fuck were you thinking, man?” Malcolm asks me.
I consider his question for a moment before responding. “Probably the same thing you were thinking when you kept Naomi around even after you knew she was stealing from you.”
Malcolm’s jaw clenches in anger, but I’m not finished.
“Maybe I thought the same thing that Devlin was thinking when we had to go on a murder spree to save his girl.”
Dev holds his palms up in surrender. “You got me there.”
“Do I need to call out Nash and Silas too, or are you all getting the fucking point?”
“There’s a difference. Maeve can’t ever be trusted,” Malcolm says. “She’ll never choose you over her own brother.”
“She didn’t know the Irish were going to shoot up the bar that night! She thought they were only going to damage the bikes to try and scare the Knights away,” I explain.
“Bullshit,” Hunt huffs from where he’s still holding up the wall.
“Was she naive? Hell yes,” I tell them. “But she did it to try and protect her brother. I think we can all understand that on some level, right?”
“The Irish are still our enemy for drawing blood first,” Malcolm says. “And with her brother part of them, she’s still our enemy too.”
“I know that,” I reply. “But if you give me one more chance to clean this shit up like you said, I think I may be able to smooth things out.”
“Oh yeah? And what if you fail?” Nash asks.
“Then you can take my cut and kill me if that’s what the table votes to do.”
Chapter Eighteen
Maeve
Even after Rian called last night saying he was safe, I knew the beef between the MC and the Irish wasn’t even close to being finished. That’s why I couldn’t sleep a wink. In my mind, I kept trying to figure out a way to get both sides to back down and have come up empty.
I’m not sure if there’s nothing to be done or…
When I hear someone knock on my door late that afternoon, I’m shocked speechless when I look out the peephole and see Wirth on the other side. A pair of aviator sunglasses cover his eyes, and the rest of him is, well, bigger, angrier and sexier than he has any right to look. Except…something is missing. He’s not wearing his leather cut over his t-shirt, which is odd.
I
didn’t think I would ever see him again. In fact, his last words to me were that we were done. I wish he’d told me he was coming so I could’ve changed. Instead, I’m wearing a pair of ratty old boy short panties and thin tank top with no bra, but I don’t think he’ll care what I have on. He looks too pissed to even notice.
I quickly flip the locks and open the door to let him in. “Hey,” I say, sounding out of breath from just seeing him again.
“You fucked me over,” he grits out, face tense, making me wish I could see his eyes to see if there’s any chance he’ll ever forgive me.
“What I did…it was for the best,” I reply, crossing my arms under my breasts defensively. “None of your friends died and none of the Irish did either!”
“No, they didn’t, but my neck is on the line now. Everyone figured out it was me who told you about our plan. Do you know what the MC does to assholes who betray them?” he asks.
“H-how did they find out? Do they know what I did?”
“Hell yes they know what you did, that you were only fucking the Knights to give intel back to the Irish. Hunt wants you dead.”
“Oh,” I say as I try to swallow around the huge knot in my throat.
“Call your brother and tell him you need to leave town, or you won’t live to see tomorrow,” Wirth demands. This time I know there’s no arguing with him.
I go and grab my phone from where I tossed it down on the sofa and quickly find Rian’s name in my favorites. He thankfully answers on the first try. Instead of wasting time, I blurt everything out. “I need to leave town for a while. Right now. Tonight. The Knights know I’m a traitor and they want me dead.”
“Fuck,” Rian says with a sigh. “I’ll pack and be over as soon as I can.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, even though I know that while he may leave with me now, finally giving me what I’ve wanted all along, he will eventually come back.