Night Shift (Nightriders Motorcycle Club Book 1)

by Silver James

  A shudder ran through her, and I reached out, but she stepped backwards, away from me, shaking her head. “One of them hit Teri, and she went down, then they both came for me. I fought, but they got the crow bar. Then I heard motorcycles. So did they. They took off.”

  “God, baby. I’m sorry.” I couldn’t stand it any longer. My wolf was snapping and whining. We needed to hold her, pet her, know that she really was okay. I crowded her up against the building, gathered her into my arms, and just held her. She struggled against me and then sagged when the fight went out of her.

  Behind me, I heard the Russian talking to Repo.

  “I’ll check her phone, Russki, and talk to her.” Repo sounded contrite, but pissed. Probably at Sam for implicating Sunny.

  “No. I will check her phone. Tell her to come here. Now.”

  Fuck. The Russian didn’t get involved in our personal lives as a rule. But if an old lady or one of the club whores threatened the security of the MC, all bets were off. Repo moved off to speak quietly into his phone.

  Five minutes later, Sunny pulled up in her Charger. She did not look happy. “What the hell, Repo?” She thrust her phone at him, and then got a look at Sam. Her eyes widened, and a little moan escaped when she saw Teri.

  Repo hit the speaker button and played back the messages from Jonah. His desperation grew more apparent with each phone call. The kid must have called me, called Sunny, and then alternated between us until help arrived.

  Sunny, her face stricken, stared at her mate. “I didn’t know. I just thought…I don’t know what I thought. If I’d known it was Jonah, that the kids were in trouble—”

  “Fuck you, Sunny.” I growled at the woman, and Repo’s hackles came up. “It’s fine if Sam is in trouble? So you wouldn’t do jack shit to help her. She’s my gawddamn mate, Sunny. That should fucking mean something.”

  “She’s not good enough for you, Easy! She called you a damn monster. She called all of you monsters!”

  Russki stepped between us. “This is a discussion for later.” He raised his voice. “Sandhog, take Teri home. If she needs anything…if you need anything, call.”

  No one said a word until the two humans vacated the area. Once they were clear, Russki stepped back. He leaned a hip against Sunny’s car. “How old were you, Sunny, when you saw your first Wolf?”

  She looked confused for a minute and frowned. “I don’t remember. My dad was a Wolf.”

  “Yes. You grew up knowing us, knowing what we are, what we do.” He pointed toward Sam. She’d slid down to squat on the cracked sidewalk, leaning against the rough brick wall at her back. “Samantha saw her first not even two months ago when the man she loved shifted from wolf to man with blood on his mouth from ripping out the throat of a Hell Dog.”

  “But she ran away.” Sunny spat the words.

  My fingers itched to touch Sam, but I stared Sunny down instead. “She came back.” Movement caught my attention. Sam had pushed to her feet and was walking toward me.

  “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. Teri is safe. My kids are safe.” She glared at the Russian. “I will be carrying from now on. I don’t give a damn what you say about it.” She took several more steps before she glanced back at Sunny. “Fuck you and the high horse you rode in on, Sunny. I don’t need your friendship. In fact, I don’t need a damn thing from you. From any of you. Stay away from my kids. Stay away from me.”

  Sam’s eyes flicked to me. “I’m leaving, Easy. Do whatever shit you have to do then come home to me.”

  With that, she marched away, head held high. I’d never been so proud of anyone in my fucking life. Stunned silence rushed in to fill the void left by her exit. Long moments later, Hollywood cleared his throat. He’d gotten to his feet and stood nearby, his head lowered in submission.

  “I’d like to go with her. I’ll take Wiz and two prospects. We’ll make sure she gets home and stays safe until you get there, Easy.”

  I glanced at Russki. A scant dip of his chin answered my unasked question. “Thanks.”

  And that was the end of it. Hollywood knew he’d fucked up. It didn’t matter that Sam told him it was okay. He didn’t take orders from her. He took orders from me and the other officers. He’d take his punishment, just like I had, and he understood that if something had happened to Sam or the kids, I would have killed him. Men’s relationships were easy. Women? Not so much.

  RUSSKI

  WOMEN. They were good for one thing only but these moonstruck Wolves? They forgot that. Dealing with them made my head hurt. I had no mate. Would never have one for this very reason.

  I stared at the bloody aftermath of the attack on Teri. Body disposal used to be simple. I once considered buying a pig farm for that very reason. In my home country, this was not an issue. Only in America, with its honest cops, forensic scientists, and prudish sensibilities. I watched Digger and Easy roll the Hell Dog formally known as Lumpy into a plastic tarp and slap Velcro straps around it. Sam left him breathing. By the time we finished questioning him, he no longer was. He gave us every bit of information he had, despite his fear of the one he called Fallen Angel. This was someone new, someone who had taken over the Hell Dogs with blood and death.

  “Nothing with a zipper?”

  Finishing the last strap, Hardy explained. “Asshole’s too fat to stuff in a standard duffle, boss. We woulda had t’cut ’im up. Gets messy.”

  Gravedigger came by his name honestly. He snorted and offered me a sardonic smile. “Seems the president of the MC said to get our fuckin’ asses back here ASAP. We grabbed what we had.”

  I released an exaggerated sigh. “I do miss the old days.”

  My enforcer’s guffaw rang so loud the murder of crows gathered on the fence beside us erupted into the dawn sky. “Shit, Russki. In the old days, we woulda just shifted and ate the motherfucker.”

  “Ah, this is true, but we have a message to deliver, yes?”

  “Damn straight,” Easy growled. He no longer resembled his name. These last months had hardened the once-easy going Wolf. He had family now, beyond the brotherhood of Nightriders. “They touch any of our women again, we’ll burn the fuckers alive.”

  I offered a smile too cold to reach the darkness in my soul. “Yes. We will consign them all to the fires of Hell, but first, we find the one called Fallen Angel. We will see what this devil does against Wolves. Time for a social call.”

  Chapter 19

  SAM

  I STILL DIDN’T LIKE hanging around the Nightrider clubhouse but Easy asked me to come tonight. Now, standing outside, I wished I’d stayed home. The testosterone was so thick I had trouble breathing, and every hair on my body stood straight up in warning. I glanced at the other women and knew immediately their reactions were the same as mine. Two strange men stood just inside the gate completely surrounded by Nightriders. Neither of them wore cuts, but the Harleys they rode were parked on the other side of the fence.

  Nearly a week had passed since that sorry excuse for a party, and the Nightriders acted like they were at war. Sunny, Ginger, and I had come to an uneasy truce. Teri was like my new best friend. She was a sweet kid, and I was glad her near-kidnapping hadn’t traumatized her.

  Two of the prospects attempted to herd us back inside. That so wasn’t happening. The newcomers fascinated me. Raw power rolled off both men, otherworldly power like that of Easy. Wolves. They had to be. I glanced at Sunny. She’d gone white.

  I almost nudged her with my elbow when I muttered, “What?”

  “Blood Moon.”

  Blood moon? What the heck did that mean? Before I could ask, the two men started walking toward the door. And toward us, since we were bottlenecked at the front entrance. The prospects panicked. One of them grabbed Sunny, picked her up, and carried her inside. I thought Repo was going to come unglued. His expression turned all kinds of scary as he charged. I would not want to be the kid who snatched her up. The other prospect turned sheet white and gurgled while he made shooing motions with his han
ds. I grabbed Teri and one of the whores and urged them inside. Ginger herded the rest of the women.

  Easy appeared behind me. “Get the kids off the swings and go to my room, Sam. Now. Hollywood will go with you.”

  Oh hell to no. I didn’t stop to argue in the foyer, but once we were in the clubroom, I corralled the other women back behind the pool table. The prospect who’d touched Sunny was unconscious on the floor, bleeding. I couldn’t tell who was more pissed, Repo or the Russian. Sunny wasn’t exactly happy either. Something was definitely in the air tonight. All the Wolves had gotten progressively aggressive as this week wore on and the moon waxed toward full.

  Hollywood ducked out through the kitchen. He’d keep Jonah and Noni safe until Easy and I could get there.

  The Nightriders fanned out while the Russian, Digger, Hardy, and Easy escorted the new guys to the bar. Easy went behind it, grabbed a bottle and two shot glasses. He poured whiskey into the glasses and waited. I studied the two men. The one who radiated the most power looked bald, but I realized with the better light inside that his brown hair had been buzzed. Square jawed, broad-shouldered, he looked like he should be the model on a military recruiting poster: Only Bad-asses Need Enlist. The second guy’s hair was almost as short, and he was serious eye candy. He seemed…lighter, like he laughed more often. There were crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his full bottom lip pouted over the cleft in his chin.

  The hair on my arms prickled, and I glanced at Easy. He was growling at me, soundlessly, but I could feel his anger all the way across the room. What? I couldn’t window shop? He and I really needed to have a serious discussion about establishing the rules of our relationship. Eye Candy snagged the bottle from Easy’s hand, which earned him a snarl. The dude sniffed, swirled the liquid inside, sniffed again, and then took a swig straight from the bottle. He swished it in his mouth like wine snobs do with a good Bordeaux. When he swallowed, he nodded to his partner. Only then did Soldier Man and the Russian pick up the glasses and knock back the shots.

  What? Were they afraid the stuff had been poisoned? That wasn’t the Nightriders’ style. If they wanted to take you out, they just ripped out your throat or shot you full of bullet holes. Of course, looking at the newcomers, there would be some serious blood loss on both sides.

  “We go to church now,” the Russian decreed.

  The strangers turned and Soldier Man’s eyes narrowed. The power in the room ramped up again. Even the club whores felt it. I smoothed down the hair on my arms. He strode toward the pool table, and all of us scrambled to get out of the way. The Nightriders moved fast and presented a solid wall of MC strength for us to hide behind.

  Stopping at the table, Soldier Man looked up at the pelt on the wall and turned his head to give the Russian a long, appraising look. “This your work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh. Impressive.”

  Sunny let out a long breath, and I glanced at her. I so wanted the whole story of what was going down. I lowered my brows in question, but got only a brief shake of her head. Then she touched my arm, and her fingers were trembling. Dang. Evidently, things were headed from bad to worse, and I was out of the loop. Then again, this was the first time since the fiasco with the Hell Dogs that Sunny had interacted with me at all.

  The Russian led the way, followed by the guests, while Digger, Hardy, Repo, Radar, and Easy walked right behind them. The rest of the Nightriders filed in after. The heavy wooden doors slammed shut, and we heard the locks turn. Only then did Sunny really take a breath.

  “Holy cannoli,” I muttered after taking my own deep breath. “Who are those guys?”

  Sunny tugged my arm, and we moved away from the club whores, headed to the kitchen. Ginger followed us. We were the only Wolf mates on the premises. Teri and the other old ladies stayed out in the clubroom. The whores almost ran for the bar to start drinking. Once we had beers and sat down at the kitchen table, I glanced at Sunny.

  “Will you talk to me?” We still had a long way to go to mend our friendship. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to trust her, but I was willing to extend the olive branch if she was.

  Sunny shrugged one shoulder and stared at my chin before flicking her gaze up to meet mine before dropping it again. “I’m sorry, Sam. Club comes first. Always. I forgot that.”

  This was as close to an apology as I’d get. It was a first step. “So who are those guys? What the hell is a blood moon? And what’s the deal with that damn wolf pelt?”

  After swigging about half the beer in her bottle, Sunny gave a delicate shudder. “I’m going to kill Easy for not filling you in completely when he claimed you.”

  That got my dander up. Easy told me the old ladies were supposed to fill in the blanks where the MC and Wolves were concerned. When I opened my mouth to make that clear, Sunny held up her hand.

  “Don’t get pissed. I’ll explain what I can, but you really need to talk to Easy after church is over.” She downed the rest of her beer, tossed the bottle over her shoulder, and it landed with a satisfying clink in the industrial-sized plastic trashcan. “The Blood Moon, and it’s a thing, but not necessarily that whole eclipse phenomena thing, though it somehow figures into it. Which won’t make much sense. Anyway, you know that—” She snapped her mouth shut and leaned back in her chair so she could see where the club whores and the other old ladies were out in the other room. Positive they couldn’t overhear, she still leaned closer and motioned me to meet her halfway.

  “You know the MC is set up sort of like a wolf pack and why, right?” I nodded and she continued. “There are always alphas around who want to challenge the Alpha, capital A. Way back whenever, rules were put into place to govern the fights for supremacy. An Alpha can only be challenged on the Blood Moon. Again, capital B, capital M.”

  Her explanation made sense in a weird, Dungeons and Dragons way. “Okay. So why is everyone all freaked out about these two guys showing up?”

  “The wolf pelt. On the wall.”

  Ginger pushed back from the table and went to the fridge to grab another beer for Sunny. She didn’t guzzle this time, but still took a big swig. “His name was Brick McIntire. He was the national president before the Russian showed up.”

  I freaked. Not just a little, but a lot. All but falling out of my chair, I jumped up and backed away. “What the fuck? That wolf pelt is…” I swallowed the bile threatening to choke me. “Was a man?” My voice squeaked on the last word.

  Sunny nodded, her eyes as big as half dollars. “Sit, Sam.”

  I did as she ordered, though I collapsed more than sat.

  “Brick was a strong Alpha, and he was a royal bastard.” She glanced over at Ginger. “You need to hear this too, hon.” Another swig, a deep breath, and Sunny launched into the story.

  “Y’all just listen, ’kay? The story is crazy convoluted so wait ’til I’m done to interrupt. When the Russian showed up to challenge Brick, he was by himself. He had no chapter to back his play, not even a second. He just walked in on the night of the Blood Moon and issued the challenge. Alphas fight in their wolf forms for dominance. The Russian changed lightning fast and caught Brick with his pants down—figuratively, not literally. The start of a dominance fight is very ritualized. The Wolves strip, and wait for some sign before they shift. Nobody had challenged Brick in…well…a long time. And that one time wasn’t exactly a challenge.”

  She held up her finger when I opened my mouth. I snapped it shut, and she continued.

  “When the signal was given, the Russian shifted wicked fast, and he attacked ferociously. The fight lasted a long time, and there was blood everywhere. All the non-Wolves had been sent off before the challenge started. That’s another rule. Only the inner cadre witnesses it, and that’s because they’re always Wolves. The regular members don’t know what the guys are, and if they happen to find out, they disappear. You follow?” I nodded again and felt like a freaking bobblehead. “The Russian eventually ripped out Brick’s throat, and Brick shifted back to h
uman as Wolves do when they’re badly injured, or dying.”

  Sunny’s hand shook when she picked up the beer bottle and took a long drink. “Brick was dying. The Russian shifted and just stood there for a minute. Then he forced Brick to change back into a wolf.”

  My eyebrows climbed to the top of my forehead. “What the hell?”

  “Yeah. The Russian is such a strong Alpha he could force Brick back into wolf form.” Her skin paled, and she swallowed a few times. “And then he skinned Brick.” A shudder ran the length of her body. “Wolves can take massive damage and heal. It isn’t spontaneous like in werewolf movies, but I’ve seen a Wolf with his throat torn out come back from it and live a normal life. But the Russian—” Another gulp. “He’s so powerful, he made Brick shift, skinned him while he was still alive, and left him there to bleed out from the injuries. That’s why the pelt is on the wall.”

  I gulped my own beer. What the hell kind of nightmare had I fallen into here?

  “Repo’s only seen one other Wolf able to do what the Russian did. Brick was a nasty son of a bitch, and he liked to use his old lady for a punching bag. One day, this guy shows up. It wasn’t a Blood Moon, but he challenged Brick anyway. Brick changed. The guy just stood there. And then Brick was human again. Every time Brick tried to shift, the guy forced him back into his human skin. Over and over. And then the guy beat the holy crap out of Brick with his fists. I mean, that man broke almost every bone in Brick’s body. He had a punctured lung. Kidney damage. Hardy fixed him up as much as he could, but they had to call in a real doctor. Doc Carson removed part of Brick’s liver. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. In the end, the guy spit on Brick, kicked him in the head, and said, ‘That’s for her. You ever touch her again, I’ll be back to kill you, old man.’ We weren’t sure Brick was going to survive.”

  “Jeez.” I drank again and drew condensation circles on the wooden table top with the bottom of the bottle. “What happened to Brick’s old lady?”