by S. Nelson
“I’m gonna have to decline,” he said before putting a bullet through Koritz’s head. The agent was dead before his body hit the ground.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was Rabid walking toward Tripp and Marek, muttering something as he raised his gun toward them.
Braylen
Astonishingly, I was lost to the deepest realms of sleep when a loud bang woke me. Then I heard shouting followed by a bright light. Kena stirred beside me.
“What the hell?” I grumbled, disoriented and annoyed that someone woke me up in such a way. Covering my face with my pillow, it took me several seconds to remember where I was, although I’d been in the same place for days. Hearing a distressed voice, I unshielded my eyes and saw Adelaide rushing toward me.
“Get up,” she yelled. “We have to go.” She was frantic as she glanced around the room, the wild look in her eyes frightening me. I had no idea what she was doing because she wasn’t looking at either of us, or Reece, who’d also shot up in her bed in a panic.
Then just as swiftly as Adelaide had arrived, she left.
“What’s going on?” I’d already hopped out of bed and run behind her out into the hallway when it dawned on me that maybe the club was under attack. Catching up to her before she entered the large common space, I grabbed her arm and spun her around. “What’s happening? Are we in danger?”
She shook her head before tears fell and painted her cheeks. “He’s dead,” she wailed, pulling her hair as she retreated, hitting the wall which finally kept her in place.
I had no idea who she was referring to, but it had to be one of our men.
Before I could get any answers, I joined in her anguish, crying right along with her. Kena hurried toward us, signing to me while terror stole her reserve.
What’s wrong?
“I don . . . don’t know,” I blubbered, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “Adelaide said ‘He’s dead,’ but I don’t know who she’s talking about.” My lungs worked feverishly, pulling in air faster than I could expel it.
Just when I thought I was going to hyperventilate, Salzar ran toward us.
“We gotta go,” he urged, moving quickly but seemingly calmer than the three of us. A flurry of bodies passed, men spouting out instructions while I stood there in the midst of the tornado. I saw Reece and Sully carrying Riley and Kaden, followed by Nash and a few others holding our suitcases.
Next thing I knew we were all loaded into two vehicles and speeding out of the clubhouse lot as if someone had been chasing us.
Apparently, time had been the culprit.
I kept hearing Adelaide saying “He’s dead,” but who was she talking about? Furthermore, who had given her the news? She never mentioned that someone had called her. Did one of the guys at the club we were staying at tell her something? If so, why had they chosen to keep the rest of us in the dark?
We’d been driving for three hours when my cell abruptly rang. I’d made sure it was charged, waiting for the moment when Ryder would call me. Praying he would call me.
Fumbling with the phone and almost dropping it, I managed to swipe the screen before the ringing ceased. “Hello,” I hurriedly answered. “Ryder?”
“No, it’s me.” Jagger’s voice sounded strained.
“Where’s Ryder?”
“He can’t. . . .” He trailed off, short spurts of air hitting my ear as I listened to him trying to control his breathing. “I don’t even know what to say. It’s so bad. So bad,” he repeated. I swore he was crying, but I couldn’t be sure. Either way, something terrible happened, and if I thought I was gonna lose my mind before, I was surely gonna go mental if Jagger didn’t start talking.
“You need to tell me what happened, Jagger. Please.” Kena whipped her head toward me, and the look on her face was priceless. Like she’d been given the best gift, and in a sense she had. At least she knew her man was alive, well enough to make a phone call.
I remained on the line, the seconds passing in silence until I heard the first syllable of his first word.
“They didn’t make it.”
I swore my heart stopped beating right before the line went dead. I immediately dialed Jagger’s number back, but it went straight to voice mail. I tried five more times, but each time I heard his automated message telling me to leave a message after the beep. Clutching my phone tightly, I willed it to ring, my internal voice screaming at the top of her lungs for the damn thing to burst out in sound.
I hadn’t even realized that I’d been crying until Kena unbuckled her seat belt and crawled next to me, pulling me into her embrace. She tried to comfort me, and I loved her dearly for her attempt, but nothing in the world would make me feel better except for Ryder’s voice.
Right before I was about to lose it, my screams bubbling inside my throat, I heard one of the men’s phones ring. Nash was driving our SUV while one of his buddies sat next to him—I believed his name was Cass.
“Yeah,” Nash answered in a hurry. “Fuck. Okay. Yeah. I know. I’m drivin’ as fast as I can.” Nothing else was said before he hung up, tossing his phone into the center console.
“Who was that?” Reece asked from behind us. I’d completely forgotten she was in the vehicle with us, she’d been so quiet. When Nash didn’t answer, she leaned forward in her seat. “Who was that?” That time her voice was louder, and there was no way our driver didn’t hear her.
“No one.”
“No one?” she screeched, followed by the click of her seat belt coming undone as she tried to crawl over the seat to where Kena and I were sitting, all the while careful of her small pregnant belly. It seemed as if Reece had finally snapped, joining the rest of us in our fear. When she’d managed to clear the seat, she lunged toward the front, hitting Nash on his arm so frantically I feared he was going to veer off the road and crash.
“What the hell? Sit down,” he demanded, the gravel in his voice leaving no doubt that he was serious. And extremely angry. But Reece ignored him, her hair flying wildly around her as she continued to slap him. He tried to dodge her hits but he was trapped, trying to keep his eyes on the road while attempting to get away from her flailing arms.
“You need to calm down, sweetheart,” Cass coaxed, grabbing her hands and holding them together in front of her, cautious not to injure her. His voice was eerily calm, especially after having witnessed her break with reality. “We’re following orders. We’re not to give you ladies any info until we know for sure what we’re dealin’ with, so no amount of yelling and hitting will make us talk.” Cass faced not only Reece but Kena and me as well, his dark green eyes flicking to each of us to drive home his point. “Now go back and sit down,” he instructed.
He released Reece’s hands and turned back around to face front, not even waiting for her to comply, which she did almost right away. Kena and I moved so she could sit between us.
“Can you at least tell us where we’re going?” I asked, waiting not so patiently for his answer.
“California,” Nash replied. He took a breath. “We’re takin’ you back home.”
Ryder
A flurry of activity drew me back into consciousness, albeit briefly. My eyes were heavy, lifting them a feat I wanted to give up, but the incessant talking around me increased in volume. After raising my arm toward my face, another task I found rather difficult, I managed to open my eyes, my sight hampered by a bright light. When my pupils had finally adjusted, my vision contorted. Blurry. I saw shapes and witnessed movement, but that was all. Before long, I drifted back into the darkness, Braylen’s face greeting me as I relished the comfort of the unknown.
An intense burning sensation traveled up my thigh and shoved me from sleep, scrambling toward awareness so rapidly I barely had any time to decipher where I was or who was around me.
“Uhhh,” I groaned, trying to move my leg. I clutched the table I was lying on just so I had somewhere to focus my energy; otherwise, I feared I’d tear at my flesh just to try and stop the pain.
“Ryder,” the rough voice greeted. “Can you hear me?” Whoever stood over me shook my arm before waving his hand in front of my face. “Ryder!” he shouted. “Look at me.”
“Fuck, man,” I grated. “Shut up.” It was then I recognized the voice. Jagger. “What is that awful smell?” A pungent aroma wafted up my nose until I could barely catch my breath. I turned my head to the side and the smell lessened, although I swore it was trapped inside my nostrils.
“Smelling salts,” Jagger answered. “Gotta get you up and back in the land of the living.”
“You wait till I get up,” I threatened, knowing damn well it would be quite some time before my body would finally decide to cooperate with my brain.
“He’s fine,” Jagger shouted to someone, walking away from me as my eyes drifted shut once more. Slow and steady breaths calmed me as I rode back into unconsciousness. I didn’t make it, however, that god-awful, borderline-painful smell filling my nose again. “Nope. You gotta get up, Ryder.”
I swatted the air in front of my face, thankful to have mobility of my arm. It was a start. Now all I had to do was move my leg, enough to chop off the goddamn thing so I could rid myself of the excruciating agony.
“What happened?” I tried to sit up but found the effort laughable.
“Don’t move. I need you awake, but don’t try and get up. Not until he sees you.” Jagger stood by my head, prepared to shove me back down if I made another attempt.
“Who? Until who sees me?”
“The guy Rabid brought in to tend to you guys.” His words were so matter of fact, I almost missed the name he’d spoken.
Rabid.
The Savage Reaper’s VP.
Memories hit me like a sledgehammer, assaulting my brain until all I could do was live through the horrific events all over again, as if it was the very first time.
My next attempt to get up was successful, albeit strained and half-assed. At least I’d managed to swing my good leg over the table and grip the sides of the metal slab I’d been lying on, essentially anchoring myself in place.
“Whoa,” a new voice said that time. When I looked up, my vision swiftly crystal clear, I saw Tripp walking toward me. He looked larger than life, his big form striding with ease until he stood by my side. His shirt was covered in blood, but it didn’t appear as if any of it was his.
As I continued to stare at the blood on him, scattered images flashed through my brain, pictures forming to piece together a forgotten story. One of Tripp standing near me after a bullet ripped through my leg. Then one of our nomad hovering over Marek. He’d gone to save him after our prez had been shot. Twice. Then my memory flipped to one of watching Stone. Witnessing the way his head jerked forward right before he fell to the ground.
“Fuck!” My eyes found Tripp’s before my vision blurred once more, that time filled with unbelievable grief. “Are they dead?”
“Yeah, they are.” Tripp’s eyes were red-rimmed, indicating he’d already begun to deal with the catastrophe that had landed at our feet, ripping apart all who’d known them.
“I can’t believe it. I just can’t. . . .” Shaking my head, a tear fell down my cheek for the loss of my friends.
My brothers.
My family.
Ryder
“I can’t believe they’re dead.” I threw my hands over my face, shielding my anguish from Tripp as best I could, although I knew he shared in my grief. Still, there was something about hiding my emotions that allowed me a private moment of sorts to deal with the news.
“I’m upset too, but I didn’t know you’d take it this hard,” Tripp grumbled. “Didn’t even think you liked them all that much.”
Drawing my hands back, I stared at him in confusion. “What the hell does that mean?” I tried to move, but the pain radiating through my leg stopped me. “Marek and Stone were like my family. I know I was an asshole sometimes, but they saw past my fuckups and accepted me for who I was.” My tears built, but I needed to man up and accept what had happened. I had to learn to move on; otherwise, I’d allow the sadness to fester and rot me from the inside out.
“What are you talking about?” Before I could respond, Tripp blurted, “Marek and Stone aren’t dead. Yeah, it was a close call, for both of them, but they’re alive. They’re gonna have some scars, for sure, but they’re still breathin’.”
After my astonishment finally subsided, Tripp filled me in on what happened after I’d passed out from my own gunshot wound. Apparently, when Marek tackled the Reaper who’d shot Stone, he’d managed to change the trajectory of the bullet intended for our VP. Stone had been shot but the bullet had pierced his ear, tearing off the tip of it. I’d seen him fall forward and it’d appeared as if he was dead, but Tripp explained that the force of the bullet had pushed him forward and when Stone hit the ground, he’d been knocked unconscious. Although Stone hadn’t experienced any pain when he awoke, he was pissed he was missing a piece of his ear.
I smiled at the thought of Stone’s reaction, but then my thoughts went right to Marek. Whereas Stone’s injury ended up not to be life-threatening, our leader’s wounds were just that. Not necessarily the one to his shoulder, but the bullet that’d pierced his chest had caused a part of his breastbone to slice a section of his lung before exiting his body.
It was touch and go for a while, but thankfully Marek had pulled through, although he definitely had to take it easy and allow his body to heal properly. I had no doubt Sully would chain him to their bed if he caused too much trouble.
I’d been so lost in the news of my brothers that I’d completely forgotten Jagger had mentioned Rabid.
Psych’s right-hand bastard.
As if sensing my impending barrage of questions, Jagger appeared behind Tripp. And when they both moved to the side, Rabid walked up next to me, staring down at me with a look of worry.
What the fuck is goin’ on?
Anticipating my struggle, Jagger and Tripp moved to stand on either side of me, holding me down so I didn’t further injure myself.
“Calm down,” Jagger instructed, putting more pressure on my shoulder until he felt some of the fight leave my overly tired body. Seconds ticked by before anyone spoke, and that time it was the enemy.
Or so I thought.
“I’m not who you think I am,” Rabid confessed, running his hands over his bald head in what appeared to be uncertainty. The last time I saw him, other than a couple nights prior, he’d showed up with Kortiz at our club, threatening to rain down holy hell on our club if we didn’t tell him where Psych was.
I parted my lips to speak but fell silent when I couldn’t decide what to ask first. Rabid saw my hesitancy and took the lead instead. “I won’t tell you my real name, but I’m sure at some point you’ll find out. I have no doubt you men are resourceful. But until then, I can tell you that I’ve been undercover, investigating the Savage Reapers. Sam Koritz ended up being icing on the cake.”
As he talked about ties with not only the Los Zappas cartel, but links to terrorist groups, sex trafficking and gun running, my mind tried to comprehend everything, pinging back and forth between memories and trying to understand what he was telling us.
“ . . . he up and vanished.”
“What?” I asked, doing my best to focus.
Rabid, or whatever his name was, stepped closer to repeat himself, my mind temporarily blanking on what he’d just said.
“Just as I was about to take down Psych, he up and disappeared.”
Tripp shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Yeah, we heard about that.” Our nomad smiled, even though it was brief.
“Yeah, I’m sure you did.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t ever find anything.” Tripp took a moment before finishing his thought. “Tying us to it.” His smirk reappeared, essentially telling the man Psych
was indeed dead.
“Well, if we ever find him, just know I’ll be payin’ your club a little visit. I do have a job to do, after all.”
“Like I said. . . .” Tripp rocked back and forth on his heels as he entered a visual showdown with the guy.
An image pushed its way to the forefront of my memory, and before I could think better of it, I blurted, “But I saw you shoot Koritz.”
“He finally gave me the name I was after, the one in charge.” He was so matter of fact, it was unexpected.
“Who are you undercover with that would legally allow you to shoot someone?” Jagger asked the question that time, his confusion rivaling my own.
“Doesn’t matter,” he replied. “Maybe I was under too long, the darkness the Reapers existing in affecting me more than I care to acknowledge.” Shrugging, he said, “Or maybe I shot him in self-defense.” He smirked, and I knew right then he wasn’t sorry for killing that sonofabitch, and would probably do it again if given the chance. Koritz certainly wouldn’t be missed, and I was only too happy that he’d finally been dealt with. And who better than from the man Koritz most likely thought was on his side the entire time.
“Why help us, though?” I asked, looking to Tripp and Jagger and then back to the essential stranger standing next to all of us.
“Because even though your club was on our radar, you guys weren’t even in the same league as the Reapers. And once I found out your president had cut all ties with the cartel, I focused all of my time, energy and resources on the group I’d infiltrated all those years ago. We have enough to dismantle the club and put away the rest of ’em for a very long time.”
He moved aside as I saw several strangers approach—two men and a woman dressed in scrubs. Apparently, they were who’d been called in to help. As they made quick work in checking on my leg, I couldn’t help but be thankful the war was finally over between the Knights Corruption and the Savage Reapers.
Braylen
At some point during the trip home, I’d fallen asleep dreaming of Ryder. The images conjured from my subconscious helped keep me locked in my slumber. The man I loved smiled at me, his gentle touch trying to rouse me from sleep, but I refused to open my eyes even though I could hear him calling my name. Then everything changed, the sudden urgency in his voice alarming me. His mouth opened and his lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear anything. Even though my lids were squeezed shut, I could see him. A worried expression pained his features. Then I saw blood. So much blood. The next thing I knew, his face morphed into a blank slate before his body turned into a whirlwind of dust circling above me.