Renee shrugged. ‘Guess she was lucky. I’ve taken blood samples and I’ll run them for the tests. Should have the results in a few hours. Initial assessment looks okay, but her blood work is a bit confusing.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘I got the impression Karla wasn’t too impressed with you bringing her here.’
Jericho gave a tight smile. ‘You’d be right about that.’
‘Well, she’s my patient, so I’ll keep an eye on her for a while.’
‘I have to take her now.’
Renee’s eyes darted over to where Lydia lay. ‘I would like to monitor her. After all, she’s suffered some shock from the cut. Don’t even get me started about what we’re going to do if she’s infected.’
He reached out to touch her arm. ‘Please. I can’t tell you the details, but if Vaughn finds her here, she’s going to be killed and I can’t allow that, do you understand? This is happening because she was helping me find Anna’s killer. She’s on our side.’
Renee’s eyes darted around behind him. ‘Where’s Karla? I need to speak to her.’
‘She’s indisposed for a few minutes, but she’ll be fine.’ Jericho walked to Lydia and scooped her up. ‘Just really, really pissed.’
‘Jericho, what have you done?’ Her voice dropped to a whisper.
‘Nothing Karla won’t shake off in five minutes.’ He strode for the elevator. ‘I’m going to go now and I’m taking Lydia with me.’ He kept his voice gentle, but let the alpha part of him radiate out like a heat wave. ‘Just wait a few minutes before going upstairs, alright? And maybe take some oxygen.’
‘But—’
‘I need you on my side about this, Renee.’ The elevator doors opened and he backed in. ‘Please.’
Renee’s eyes dropped to the floor ‘Yes, Jericho.’
Chapter 27
Jericho checked the rear-view mirror. Lydia lay on the back seat, eyes closed, mouth partly open, chest rising and falling with assuring regularity. Without anyone to alert Vaughn or the sentries, he’d managed to roar out of the compound twenty minutes ago without being stopped, though he had no doubt Karla had long since come to and raised hell.
He drove without thinking, knowing only one place that would mean safety for Lydia. His crew wouldn’t like it, but he would just have to make them understand. He couldn’t take her back to her house—he couldn’t assure her safety there, especially if there was a second Hunter hiding in plain sight.
He frowned when he spied the gates of the compound wide open and no sentry on duty. Slowing, he rolled through the gates cautiously and pulled around to the clubhouse. A black van was parked in front and a knot of men had gathered, along with his crew. He braked and got out, seeing Vaughn surrounded by a pack of fellow Enforcers.
Turk hurried over, blocking Jericho’s way. ‘We picked up the Hunter. He’s still alive, just. We put him in one of the holes.’ He paused, then said, ‘But while we were out, Vaughn managed to muscle his way in. Corbin was on sentry and they beat him up real good. I ended up having to explain about the Hunter and he’s not happy.’
‘You told him everything?’ Jericho growled.
‘I didn’t have a lot of choice.’ Turk’s face became troubled. ‘Vaughn’s saying he got a call from Karla, saying you stormed Crystal Waters with the cop and that you attacked Karla. Tell me that’s not true.’
Jericho didn’t answer, just kept heading for Vaughn, murder on his mind.
‘Did you really do it?’ Turk called out from behind him. ‘Did you really take that cop to Crystal Waters?’
Jericho didn’t answer, didn’t stop until he was in front of Vaughn. Behind the Enforcer, he saw Corbin’s still form lying face up on the veranda of the clubhouse. Frost leaned by him, checking his pulse and frowning. Jericho clocked the young man’s beaten face, his right arm bent at an awkward angle.
Vaughn stepped forward. ‘You went too far, Jericho. I’m not even counting that you knew of a Hunter’s presence in town and failed to notify me. And what you did to Karla is going to see you buried. I’m here to relieve you of your duties. You aren’t fit to command this place.’
‘You think so, do you?’ Jericho growled.
A slow smile spread across the Enforcer’s lips. ‘This place runs on the scraps you make from your bar. But it’s not enough. This place needs a champion, someone who can raise the funds this centre needs.’
Jericho heard murmuring around him and looked around, seeing more men from the compound had gathered, watching the confrontation unfold. He turned back to Vaughn, trying to ignore the throb his bad knee gave.
‘We don’t need your help,’ he snarled. ‘We don’t want your help. You’re a pure blood. You wouldn’t understand how these men think, what they need. You wouldn’t understand what they’ve been through and how to heal them.’
‘I know they need something more.’ Vaughn gestured around the compound. ‘Just look at this place. A worn-out generator, bills not paid, living hand to mouth.’ He looked around at the growing crowd. ‘Instead of living in luxury, like Crystal Waters.’
Jericho gave a bitter laugh. ‘Since when did you think mutts were deserving of the finer things in life?’
Vaughn’s forehead creased. ‘I offer these men real leadership, Jericho. Why should Crystal Waters receive the majority of funding and donations?’ He looked around at their audience, voice rising. ‘I can deliver this. I will deliver this.’
‘Nobody—’ Jericho started, when a voice interrupted him.
‘Bulldog.’
Turk spoke from behind him. A warm hand on his arm. Jericho turned to stare at the old biker in shock. Turk dropped his hand and gave a helpless shrug. ‘Let’s hear him out. Maybe we can work with him. Fresh perspective and all.’
Jericho’s stomach dropped, the words a terrible blow.
‘Turk, what are you doing?’ Reaper stepped forward.
‘I’m saying we should hear what he has to say,’ Turk said slowly. ‘He’s offering this place a lifeline. We should hear him out.’
Jericho stepped away from Turk. He could feel all eyes on him, judging. Rage, riding a wave of helplessness, crashed through him. Vaughn was trying to strip him of the one thing that gave his life meaning. The Enforcer’s face was impassive as he stared at Jericho, a hint of triumph in his eyes. Then Frost gave a shout.
‘We got a problem here.’
Jericho’s attention snapped to where Frost was beginning to back up. On the ground, Corbin’s shoulders were jerking, bones breaking and matted fur erupting from his skin. The kid was reverting, incredibly fast, his body tearing itself apart.
‘Everybody back,’ Jericho yelled, as men scrambled away. Frost disappeared inside the clubhouse where the emergency meds were, though as Jericho watched Corbin’s body shake, he knew it was far too late. His walked to where Corbin struggled on the ground and knelt down beside him.
‘Come on,’ he whispered, seeing the young man’s body twist as he tried to fight the process: clothes drenched in sweat, eyes rolled back. ‘You can fight this. I know you can.’
Corbin cried out in a guttural voice and lumbered to his feet. Jericho stood, pulling his 9mm. He’d never seen a reversion this fast—a shift should take hours, not mere minutes.
Corbin tried to speak, but his face was pulled at angles, his skin mangled and torn, weeping blood as bone jutted out from broken skin as he shifted at an accelerated rate. His eyes were clouded with pain and he swayed on his feet as his body heaved and jerked, reforming around a new structure. His legs and shirt began to swell with new muscle, ripping his jeans, tearing his shirt to reveal matted fur beneath.
Frost stood in the clubhouse doorway behind him, meds clutched in his hands. Jericho shook his head at him. They couldn’t pull Corbin back. Not this far in. Corbin shuddered, giving an agonising scream. Jericho didn’t wait. Just pulled the trigger, and tapped Corbin twice in the head.
The young man’s eyes rolled, his disfigured body quivered, and he collapsed to the ground with a sof
t sigh. Jericho stared down at the kid’s body, feeling nothing.
‘Another man under your protection, fallen.’ Vaughn was speaking behind him, voice pitched loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘Another failure. Not only that, but he bought a Hunter into the compound.’ He sneered at Jericho. ‘Karla told me about the cop, Jericho, and you stink of her blood. Is she in the car?’
Some men shifted closer to Lydia’s ute, before Turk stopped them, the old biker standing in their way. A warning growl erupted from his throat.
‘The woman is under the Diablo Dogs’ protection,’ he said, surprising Jericho.
‘She is Hunter, is she not?’ Vaughn looked around at the gathered. ‘An enemy of ours, who your pack leader brings here, into your sanctuary.’
Jericho stepped towards Vaughn, ready to challenge him. Anything to keep Lydia safe. A hand stopped him and he turned, seeing Frost behind him.
‘Don’t, Bulldog.’ His words were a soft whisper, only for Jericho to hear. They both knew what Vaughn wanted. For Jericho to challenge him, there and then. Jericho met Frost’s eyes and he realised the cold-eyed man didn’t believe he could take Vaughn. That in a fight the Enforcer would beat him, possibly kill him. He thought of Lydia in the back seat of the car still. If he fought Vaughn now, even if he was victorious, he might be too injured after to get her to safety. And what would become of her then?
Reaper and Blades appeared beside Turk, faces hard.
‘She’s not to be harmed,’ Turk told Vaughn. ‘It was decided by pack, it will be upheld by pack. You are in no position to say otherwise.’
Around them, men murmured among themselves, some casting dark looks at Jericho.
‘Go, Bulldog,’ Frost said. ‘We’ll clean up from here. Take her somewhere safe.’
‘That’s right, Bulldog.’ Vaughn’s eyelids lowered a fraction, a small smile playing on his lips. ‘Why don’t you take your girlfriend somewhere else? As you can see from your men’s reaction, you aren’t too welcome here right now.’
‘Shut up,’ Reaper said snarled. ‘Or I’ll make you shut up.’
Vaughn gave a laugh. ‘I’d like to see you try.’
Reaper launched himself at Vaughn, but Turk and Blades managed to tackle him at the last minute, pinning him on the ground.
‘Get off me, you traitorous fucks,’ he roared, legs thrashing in the dirt.
Movement flashed by Jericho, then Frost was near Vaughn, looking like he was going to follow through with Reaper’s original intention.
‘Enough,’ Jericho barked out. He held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. ‘I’m leaving.’
Reaper stopped struggling and stared up at Jericho with a betrayed expression. Jericho ignored it, forcing himself to keep walking towards the ute, the crowd parting for him. He took one step after another, his feet heavy clumps of lead. He knew it was the right thing to do. He had to leave. Had to take Lydia somewhere safe. He had failed his crew, failed the men under his care, and it was too much. He sucked in a breath as he climbed into the car and started the engine, feeling as if the entire world was now lying in the back seat of the car.
* * *
Jericho drove slow, rocks spraying up to hit the underside of the car, braking directly in front of the MC’s cabin. He unlocked the front door and then returned to the ute. Lydia’s lay still, a faint pulse flickering in her neck. Most of the blood had been cleaned from her skin, but her soft curly red hair was clotted with it. Scooping her up in his arms, he knew he needed to get her warm as soon as possible. At the moment, with his position with his crew and the Dog House in jeopardy, protection was all he could offer her.
He took her to one of the bedrooms at the back of the cabin, a room filled almost entirely with a large bed. He laid Lydia out and checked her pulse again, just to be sure, and found it steady enough. His hand hovered over the white gauze taped to her throat, wanting to check the injury wasn’t as serious as he’d first thought. But he hesitated, not wanting to disturb her, and settled for watching her for a few minutes. Eventually he roused himself and left the room on soft feet, shutting the door behind him.
Jericho collapsed on the couch, mind replaying what had happened at the Dog House. His own men had turned from him, had doubted his ability to lead, and a sense of loss washed over him, caving in every certainty he’d become accustomed to. He’d thought he would stay president of the Diablo Dogs and command the compound until he passed the torch onto someone younger and deserving. But now, when he looked down the path of time, he couldn’t see where he fit in, couldn’t see what meaning his life had.
He hadn’t realised he’d been dozing until approaching bikes jerked him awake. Boots clumped up to the front door, deliberately heavy, then the front door opened and Blades walked in, a backpack slung over one shoulder, heading for the kitchen.
Jericho stood, wondering if they were here to take him back to face Vaughn for a challenge. If they were, he wasn’t sure he had the heart to fight them. They were still his pack brothers. If they were here for Lydia though … His body tensed.
Reaper followed, looking exhausted, and flopped down on the couch Jericho had just vacated. He picked up a fishing magazine and began flipping through it.
‘Hope you don’t mind, but I rode your bike here,’ Blades said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder and towards the door. ‘Thought you might want it.’
Jericho grunted, but said nothing. After all, what was there left to say? What could you do when your own crew didn’t believe in you anymore? The pain in his chest was sharp and unrelenting, and he wondered if it would ever leave him.
‘Turk didn’t mean what he said,’ Reaper said, eyes fixed on the magazine. ‘He’ll see soon enough what a prick Vaughn is.’
Frost entered the cabin, nodded once at Jericho, then sat next to Reaper, resting his heavy boots on the scarred pine coffee table.
‘Turk’s back at the compound, trying to keep things calm,’ Frost said in answer to an unasked question. ‘He wanted to come here, talk to you.’ He shrugged. ‘But things are kind of tense with Vaughn. He’s talking about disbanding the Diablo Dogs MC and bringing in his own men.’
‘What the hell happened?’ Frost glared at Jericho. ‘Where did you go this morning?’
He sat down at the small kitchen table. ‘Lydia had a theory about where the Hunter was. I thought I’d check it out.’
‘By yourself?’ Frost’s eyes were chips of ice. ‘That was stupid.’
‘Lydia was with me.’
‘Even more stupid.’
He shrugged, not denying it. What was the point? Frost was right, he hadn’t behaved like a leader, hadn’t taken precautions to protect himself. And now everything was falling apart. ‘We were going to shake a name loose, try to get him to tell us who he was here to clean up after. We found photos at his hotel room, photos that look like they’ve been taken over the course of a couple of years. Most of them were of the females from Crystal Waters. Looked like whoever took them had a real hard-on.’
‘No photos of us?’ Reaper asked.
‘My brother, you’re too ugly for anyone to be jerking off to,’ Blades said.
Reaper gave him the finger. ‘Fuck you.’
‘You wish, sunshine.’ Blades turned to Jericho. ‘Guess from the state the Hunter’s in, he didn’t get around to giving you that name?’
‘You might say that,’ Jericho said. ‘Things were getting ugly when the hotel manager showed up, waving around a crossbow.’
‘The hotel manager shot the Hunter?’ Frost clarified, sounding doubtful.
‘She used to belong to the old coven,’ Jericho told him. ‘Said she knew Coulter was a Hunter.’
‘If she was a witch, why did she use the crossbow?’ Blades made a zapping gesture with his hands. ‘Why not just shove lightning bolts up his ass?’
‘No coven, no magic,’ Frost said.
‘What do you know about witches and magic?’ Blades asked, shooting him a suspicious look.
‘I read,’
Frost answered. ‘You should try it sometime.’
Blades turned to Jericho. ‘Just because Little Miss Hero tried to help you, how can you be sure it wasn’t just some elaborate Hunter stitch up? That she wasn’t playing you?’
‘Because when we confronted Coulter, he slit her throat,’ Jericho said flatly. ‘Pretty clear to me she’s not with him.’
‘Coulter cut her?’ Reaper sounded surprised. ‘I thought she was blood.’
‘Guess that didn’t matter too much when it came down to it,’ Jericho said.
‘What’s the next move?’ Frost asked.
‘I’m going to wait and make sure Lydia is out of danger,’ Jericho said. ‘Then, I’m not sure.’
‘Your call, Jericho,’ Reaper said. ‘We all back whatever you decide.’
‘You sure about that?’ Jericho stared down at his hands. ‘Vaughn made some good points. He could bring in some cash the Dog House desperately needs.’
There was a short silence, before Reaper said, ‘Yeah, but he’s also a douchebag.’
Blades chuckled. ‘And no one can follow a douchebag.’
‘We’re going to wait,’ Frost said. ‘Wait until we’re all together to talk about this.’ He pointed at Jericho. ‘What you did at Crystal Waters was serious and when the King finds out, your ass will be burned.’
‘Fuck the King,’ Reaper muttered. ‘Who gives a shit what he thinks?’
Blades sighed. ‘That, I suppose, we can all agree on.’ He tossed the backpack he’d bought in with him to Jericho, who caught it. Unzipping it, he spied a leather vest with the Diablo Dogs patch on the back.
‘You look naked without it,’ Blades told him. ‘Regardless of what happens, we’re brothers and the men at the compound need to know we’re family. If Vaughn comes against you, he comes against us.’
‘And Lydia?’ Jericho asked, hands holding the vest tight. Would he have to choose? He didn’t know he could.
‘You’ve made your choice about her, and we stand by you,’ Reaper grunted. ‘If you trust her, that’s good enough.’
‘Agreed,’ Blades said. ‘Of course, I still think you’re insane, but Reaper’s right for once.’
Bite Deep Page 22