Wrath (Heartlands Motorcyle Club Book 7)

by Dani Wyatt

  “Please.” Kristina is next to us now, one hand on my forearm, and it pulls me back to her from the rage that’s quickly building with junior’s name on it. “We need to close things up for today. Thank you for coming, but you need to leave.”

  I lick my lips, step forward pushing the box into junior’s chest, making him move out of my way as I go.

  Once past him, I spin and walk backwards through the door, my eyes on Kristina’s.

  “I’ll be thinking of you with every bite I take. Can’t imagine any of it tastes as good as you.”

  Her mouth drops open as I spin on my heel and make my way back across the street, already planning to be back the first chance I get to finish what I started.

  4 | Wrath

  “Mother fucker.” I shake out my hand after I park my bike and turn off the engine.

  “You okay?” Jaxon nods my way from his bike.

  “Yeah. Fucker had a hard head.”

  “You should learn not to punch people in their ear.” Gage walks up from where he parked, laughing.

  “Your aim was a little off, bro. You distracted?” Jaxon asks then tips his head at Gage.

  There’s bullshit laughing from them all and I’m ready to tear into my own at this point.

  “Fuck off, all of you. Fucking Bulldog hit him low while I was already swinging. I wasn’t aiming for his fucking ear.”

  The rest of the crew laughs some more and a few of them head into the bar where we stopped about an hour east of Seneca, but I’m not feeling it.

  Gage jerks his head toward the door, waiting for me. “You did good. Fucking tweakers. I knew they were going to pull shit.”

  “We were ready. No Heartland’s blood was spilled. We got our money, they got their guns and a little lesson in manners.”

  He nods, stuffing his hands into his front pockets. “You coming in? I gotta piss.”

  I twist my lips, looking down the road. “Nah.” I rub my eyes and squeeze the bridge of my nose. “I think I’m gonna keep going. Got a couple things to take care of.”

  “Uh huh.” He grins, but there’s a knowing in his eyes. “Be careful. See you tomorrow?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Cool. Ride safe.” With that, he swings open the door to the bar and inside I hear the crew hooting and laughing, everyone feeling good from our deal.

  Even fighting feels good. Especially when you win. But a fight isn’t what’s got me ramped, it’s Kristina. Since I touched her today, almost got my lips on hers, it’s like there’s a beast growing inside of me screaming for me to take her.

  I can barely think straight. All I want to do is grab her by the hair and drag her back to my place, then fuck her until she passes out. Then fuck her some more. And, when she wakes up, get a ring on her finger and let her know she’s never leaving.

  That pastor junior today gave me a feeling he needs to be dealt with too. I can tell when a dog’s on the prowl and he stunk like wet dog to me.

  As I ride, the wind is cool and the sun is right over the yellow line down the center of the road, guiding me. Doubt creeps in. I mean, I know who I am. I’m okay with it. Even my past. But I don’t know.

  Could I ever make a girl like her happy? I never graduated fucking high school. I’ve worked construction. Odd jobs. But it’s been club life and dues and less than legal money making for as long as I can remember.

  That’s one thing, but I’m also a felon. A killer. Sure, I got my murder 2 charge reduced to manslaughter, but I still killed that man and Kristina isn’t the kind of girl that deserves a killer.

  By the time I hit the outskirts of Seneca, my heart is cold. I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t give her a life like she wants. I’ve got a good chunk of money saved, for sure. I don’t spend on much and I inherited some decent bank when my father died. But I’m no respectable, employed man.

  At best, I could get in on some of the new club real estate investments and figure out how to do something else, but it would take years to build things up. By then, she’ll be gone and without her, I don’t give a shit anyway, so I’m stuck between a rock and a harder rock.

  My head is pounding as I come down the street toward the Ride or Die and the church. I try not to even look over as I start to slow, ready to pull in at the bar. My chest is tight and I’m pissed fucking off, though at what I’m not sure.

  Just at myself.

  I stare straight ahead, the church whizzing by on my right. But instinct kicks in, and I turn to take a one second glance as I go by. The lights in the house are on and there’s a flickering light coming from the back windows of the church, which I’ve never seen before.

  I’m a few seconds down the road and my nose catches a scent.

  I keep going, just about to pull into the bar parking lot, but then it hits me.

  Smoke.

  I smelled smoke.

  Flickering lights in the windows.

  I downshift and put on the brakes, spinning in a rubber burning circle in the middle of the empty street and peel out back across the road.

  Looks like I got here just in time, because by the time I get back the glow is bright, smoke is seeping out from around the windows and the light in the parking lot illuminates things enough for me to see clearly there’s fire inside.

  I scream into the parking lot, practically laying my bike down but I get the engine off and the kickstand down before I’m balling it up the stairs to the house.

  The church can burn, I don’t want it to but if she’s safe that’s all I care about.

  “Kristina!” I pound on the front door of the house and it swings open. I charge inside, screaming her name, strong arming every door until I’ve hit them all and she’s not inside anywhere.

  I make it back to the living room, standing there for a second, my heart pounding in my ears, and then I hear it.

  A scream.

  Her scream.

  “Kristina!” I’m at a dead run like Christ himself is chasing me toward the back of the church. The fire is brighter now, more smoke is pouring out and I hear her screaming for help and banging. “I’m coming!”

  I grab the handle on the back door but it’s locked tight and made of thick metal, so there’s no way to kick it in.

  I bolt to the front double doors and pull and kick but there’s no way they are opening. As I’m running around the building looking for another access point, I call in the fire to 911 and when they ask for a bunch of bullshit details, I tell them if they don’t get their asses on the road and anything happens to her, I’m coming for them next, then I hang up.

  I race around the side of the church and see a metal ladder leading to the roof. There are no other doors except another metal one that is dead bolted as tight as the first, so I take the ladder up, hoping there will be some sort of access from up there.

  On top of the flat part of the roof, there’s a flat access door that looks like it’s used for mechanicals, but it’s my only shot. It’s dark as fuck now, and the little bit of light from the parking lot lights is blocked by the big ass steeple, so I feel around and finally find a handle.

  “Come on, mother fucker.” I grunt and twist but it’s not moving. “Open, God damn you.”

  I take it in both hands, pulling and bracing my foot against the metal frame, but nothing. I hear her screaming for help, her voice breaking, and there’s no fucking way this is how this is going to go.

  I look up at the stars, tell God this isn’t fucking funny, and put a death grip on the handle.

  The strain behind my eyes and in my head feels like a vein is about to burst as I pull and twist, screaming and straining, and just when white light starts to sparkle in front of my eyes, I’m down on my ass, with half the handle rusted and broken off in my hand.

  I scramble on my knees, hoping to fuck I didn’t just break it off and now I can’t get a grip. I feel around and find what’s left of the handle, and start throwing little pieces of rusted broken metal away until I practically tear my finge
rnails off pulling the fucking metal door up, but at last it’s open. I throw myself inside, not even bothering with the metal ladder that’s there for access, instead grabbing the rails and sliding down until I hit the ground hard.

  From there, I follow her screams and come up to a wooden door in a back room behind the massive sanctuary. With two kicks, it bursts open and I step inside a large room looks like storage, but with all the smoke it’s hard to tell.

  “Please...” She pleads, but I don’t let her get another word out. I’ve got her under her ass and behind her back, and we are bolting for the front door.

  I hear sirens in the distance, but we are three feet from the front door when it bursts open and we’re standing there staring at pastor junior.

  “What are you doing here?” He yells.

  I don’t answer. Instead, I push past him, carrying Kristina out into the parking lot to where I left my bike, right under one of the big outdoor lights with a cement base, and sit her down on that. As soon as she’s settled, I pull her hair out of her face and meet her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I run my hands down her hair, her face, her arms...my eyes racing over her for signs of injury.

  “I’m okay.” She chokes out on a gagging cough, pressing her fingers to her cheeks. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “Why were you in the church alone at night?” I don’t mean to sound pissed, but she could have fucking died and that is completely unacceptable. From now on, she needs to tell me where she is and who she’s with.

  Red and blue lights are flashing, coming down the street now, and the sirens are screaming. Fire trucks and EMS pull in and they are dealing with the fire as I finish checking her over, then ask her again.

  “Why were you in there?”

  “I – I...” She pauses, looking at me, then licks her lips looking like she’s trying to remember. “William called. He said he thought he left the lights on in the sanctuary and could I go look out the window. I did and they were on, so he asked me to go over and turn them off...”

  She’s searching my face and I reach into my back pocket and pull out my handkerchief. Not many dudes still use a handkerchief, but it’s something my father taught me. Trust me, he’d say, always have one—even if not for your own snotty nose, then in case a lady is ever crying, you can be the hero with the handkerchief.

  I crouch in front of her, wiping her face with the cloth, clearing some of the soot from her cheeks.

  “Okay, so you went in and there was a fire? Why the fuck did you go in? Call the fire department...”

  “There was no fire when I went in. I went into the back room and walked over to the panel with all the main switches to the big sanctuary lights. I flicked them off and when I did there was this like, sparking sound.” She scratches above her eye then finishes. “It was loud and it scared me, so I went to the door and just tried to get out before something else happened but the door wouldn’t open. It has never not opened before. It locks from the outside, but no one else was there so I’m not sure what happened. So I was stuck. The fire started in the wall but then I could see it coming out around the electrical panel and there were more sparks and pops and I couldn’t get out.”

  The shocked look in her eyes breaks into fear and tears stream down her cheeks and I want to kill someone.

  “You’re out, baby. I’ve got you.” My words don’t seem to make her uncomfortable, but her shoulders shake and her bottom lip quivers as she tries to hold back more tears.

  I was just about to ask her if there was a fire alarm when junior comes out from somewhere between the firetrucks and EMS heading our way with a phone to his ear.

  “Come with me.” He snaps and I want to do the same to his neck.

  Kristina looks at him, then back to me. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. They have the fire under control but your father wants to talk to you. Inside.”

  He gives me a look and my fingers twitch, wanting to lay him out right here.

  “Okay.” She answers, her voice thin.

  “Curious you were here.” He says to me, and I’m on my feet with my finger in his chest a second later.

  “You got something to say, don’t be a pussy and dance around it in your tutu.”

  He keeps his eyes on me for a second, then steps to Kristina. “We’ll need to call your father. The fire chief needs to talk to you too.” Junior clenches his jaw as I sniff and use every ounce of my willpower not to drive my fist down his throat and pull out his heart.

  “Okay.” She nods as she stands, and junior grabs her by the hand and starts to drag her away, but she turns, jerking her arm away and comes back to stand in front of me, her eyes on mine. “Thank you.” Her voice is tiny and she pinches her lips together, but her fluttering eyes tell me what I want to know.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I—” She looks over her shoulder to where junior is looking like he just lost his favorite teddy bear. “I have to go...I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you too.”

  “They’ll know where to find me.” I answer, and junior is calling her name.

  “I don’t even know your name...” She presses her fingers to her lips.

  “Henry. Henry James Phillips.” It’s been so long since I told anyone my real name, it feels foreign when I say it. Most of my brothers in the club don’t even know my real name. “But they call me Wrath.”

  “Wrath.” She repeats, a little smile creeping to her lips.

  She starts to step away, then spins and throws her arms around my neck, hanging on for dear life as I stare down fuck face over her shoulder, wrapping my hands around her back and whispering in her ear.

  “You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

  5 | Kristina

  My head is a little fuzzy as I tip back the final sip of my Long Island, and I thought it would help my headache but it’s just made it worse.

  I barely slept. William insisted on spending the night and I could hear him walking up and down the hall outside my bedroom door at all hours. It was creepy, as though he was expecting me to open it and invite him in.

  I texted Jillian through the night and she came and picked me up a little before noon, and took me out for a drink and a pizza, which has helped, but the tension in my neck and my headache are making it hard to enjoy.

  Jillian comes back from using the restroom and sits back down in the booth across from me. “You okay, for real real?”

  I nod, biting into my bottom lip and running my hands down the tops of my thighs.

  “Yeah. I just feel...” I pause, thinking. “Like I’m disconnected. Like it was a dream.”

  “Well, you look a little like you’re not all there.”

  She’s right. Even after I showered and put on some make up and clothes to come and meet her, I looked in the mirror and saw I was pale. I threw my hair into a messy bun instead of my usual neat styling, and there were dark circles under my eyes.

  “So.” She starts, sliding another piece of pizza onto her plate, then licking her fingers. “The motorcycle dude just showed up? Doesn’t that seem a little weird?”

  I shrug, wishing I had asked him why he was there at the time. “I guess. A little.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “And then William was there too?” She shakes her head. “All feels a little funky to me.”

  “I’m sure the fire department, the sheriff and the insurance company—and the National Baptist Convention—will get to the bottom of it all. I think it was just a coincidence. The church is old, the wiring is old. The doors are always sticking in the spring when the place creaks and shifts, and we had all that rain last week so the wood swells...”

  I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, but Jillian looks doubtful as she reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “You wanna come and stay with me? Or I’ll come stay with you?”

  I shake my head. “No. I’ll just go home. Watch a movie and go to bed early. I didn’t sleep much. I’m tired already. Maybe
I’ll take a bath then a nap.”

  Her deep brown eyes are on me. “Okay, sister. You need me I’ll keep my phone right next to me. Got it? I’ll come whenever you need me.”

  “Thanks.” I watch her eat two more pieces of pizza and I should be thinking about almost dying, but what I’m really thinking about is Wrath. “My dad is trying to get a flight back too. I should be there when he gets home. Not sure when. I’m waiting to hear back.”

  Jillian gives me one of her famous hugs and then chauffeurs me home. There’s a crew of disaster clean up people working at the church, and William’s car is parked in our driveway, so I know he is there overseeing things as well until my dad gets back.

  I consider for a minute going inside and checking on things, but I don’t see the point. I’m exhausted and William is just more than I can handle right now.

  Two hours later, I’ve soaked in the tub and done everything I can to stop the throbbing between my legs because I can’t stop thinking of Wrath.

  While I was in the tub, I imagined him with me. I thought of how the hair I see on his chest would feel against my back if he were sitting behind me while I leaned back, the bubbles all around us.

  I thought about what his cock looked like. Much to my father’s horror, which he doesn’t know, I’m not a virgin. I’ve never been in love or felt anything close to what I feel when I’m around Henry...or Wrath...whatever, but I’m no saint. I lived the college life. I went to parties, drank too much a few times and had a couple boyfriends and didn’t necessarily have any bad sexual experiences.

  But they weren’t that great either.

  Something about Wrath makes me feel safe and in danger all at the same time, and it’s exhilarating.

  I grab a bowl of Butter Pecan ice cream and settle on the couch, thinking a nice binge watch of Flea Bag is in order. I pull my green terry cloth robe around me, grab a blanket and a pillow and get into my favorite corner spot in the sofa before I click the TV on.

  Ten minutes into my self-care, the front door opens, scaring the shit out of me, and William is standing in the living room with distaste in his eyes.