Taking that as his cue, Boss continues.
“Maddox, Fury, Saint, and Glock, you’re heading to The Trojan. MC doesn’t own it, but it’s a known haunt of theirs. The guy who runs it is a third generation barkeep so he sees everything but knows how to keep his mouth shut. You won’t get shit from him, but his staff? Who the fuck knows. The rest of us are going to be at Rusty’s. Again, not club owned but one of the two men who run it are affiliated with the MC. How? Fucks me. All I know is what I was able to get from the lady who’s working as the manager of this joint.”
Reaper chimes in stating,
“I think we’re all straight on tonight, what’s not sitting well with me is tomorrow.”
Reaper, aka Max Andrews, ex-FBI agent and current SAA for Devil’s Spawn MC, is one of the most intelligent men I’ve ever met. Under all the muscles, tattoos, and fierce glare, he’s got an IQ of one hundred and sixty which is a benefit in situations like these.
He can find the weak points in an operation, assess the level of threat under fire, and can hit a target from nine hundred feet away. Reaper’s an asset, not only to his club but ours too.
“Rebel Warriors have church tomorrow at ten. It’s common knowledge around these parts that they commune every Sunday for, at least, an hour and none of them leave the clubhouse until twelve at the earliest. It’s a large enough window for us to plant what Gage has in stockpile and get the fuck out of there before they know what hit them,” Boss answers.
Gage picks up where he left off, saying,
“Since we’ve got four groups; five, four, two, and two, I’ve rigged eight, hundred-ounce units of C4. One for each group of two, and two each for the others. It’ll pack enough punch to level a fifty-story city building, so there’s no concern about its ability to take out the shit hole they’re calling a clubhouse. The units are remote detonating. I’ve installed the software on your phones already, so all you’ve got to do when the time comes is type in the detonation code. Nine-One-One.” After a few chuckles, Gage grins. “Thought it was apt, all things considered.”
“Drop points are marked on the blueprints Brookes emailed through, which all of you have copies of,” Boss clarifies. “We’ll wait until ten-thirty to make sure everyone’s inside, doors are locked and church is in session before breaking off and planting what we’ve got. Prospects are relegated to the main room of the clubhouse during church so no one will be hanging around outside. On the off chance someone is, keep in regular contact and wait for new orders. I don’t want anyone going off half-cocked. We meet back at the rendezvous point at ten-forty-five, head count, and then we’ll let nature, or in this case, C4 take its course. Any questions,” Boss prompts.
Everyone shakes their heads or murmurs their assent before he goes on to add,
“Good. You’ve got three hours. It’s eight now, I want everyone back here by eleven to debrief. Any of you gets even the slightest hint you’ve been made, get your ass out and meet back here.”
Dispersing, Maddox and I make the seven-and-a-half-minute trip north, parking in The Trojan’s back lot. Backing in our bikes, Maddox dismounts first, hanging his helmet off one of his handlebars, pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his saddlebag and lights up.
“Jesus, I’ve been jonesing for one of these for days. Lonnie’s all over my ass about quitting, says it’s setting a bad example for the kids or some shit,” he grumbles, taking a deep drag.
“She’s not wrong, brother. Those things will fucking kill you,” I return, lighting one of my own.
“You can talk. Avery’s as anti-smoking as they come. Just you wait, she’ll be jumping on Lonnie’s bandwagon in no time,” he scoffs.
Both of us crush out our butts with the tip of our boots, heading for the front entrance.
The Trojan isn’t what I expected from a bar in the middle of nowhere, otherwise known as Hope Springs. The exterior is nothing to write home about, but it’s obvious someone’s seen to its upkeep.
A standard, nondescript, brick building with two large windows at the front and faded paintwork doesn’t do the inside justice. I can tell the second I set foot in the dimly lit interior, The Trojan is somebody’s pride and joy, not simply a source of income.
The floors are clean, polished hardwood, and the bar which takes up a good portion of the far left wall is in much the same condition. Hanging lights over each of the booths lining the walls aren’t bright enough to light the space, but with the addition of multi-positional recessed spotlights, they add to the ambiance. Never thought I’d say that about a bar; that it had ambiance but this one does.
Waitress aren’t dressed in the usual tight tops and slut skirts, they’re all wearing jeans and tank tops with the name of the bar across the upper curve of their tits. The bartenders are similarly dressed, the only exception being they’re wearing t-shirts.
Maddox notices a few of the Rebel Warrior members gathered in one of the booths in the far right corner. They haven’t paid any attention to our arrival, which on a whole is a good thing, just not for them. You’d think as a member of an MC you’d have a mind to what was happening around you, but not these guys. They don’t give a fuck. I could walk up to their booth right now, pull my piece, and down all of them before the last one reached for their weapon. Lazy motherfuckers.
“Over there,” Maddox grunts, signaling to a free table.
Placing our order with a perky, far too young waitress, Maddox reclines into his seat and I do the same. Well, until my cell rings that is. Waving his hand telling me to take the call, I answer,
“Yeah?”
“Fury?” Deke’s voice echoes down the line.
“You got me, brother. We’re in the middle of something, what do you need?” I ask, knowing Deke wouldn’t call unless it was important.
“Fuck, brother, there’s no easy way to tell you this so I’m just gonna let you have it,” he returns. “Avery found herself in some trouble earlier. Three guys broke in, bound her, scared her, and one of them hit her,” he growls.
What the fuck? No. No. Fucking no.
I don’t get a chance to ask that before he goes on to say,
“She’s good, holding firm. It wasn’t like last time, brother. None of them touched her like that. Sarge has been sitting with her since her and Blaine showed up, and he believes her story. Fucking pains me to say this, Fury, but my cousin instigated this shit. Avery confirms it. She was solid enough to give us descriptions on the three other guys too. I’ve rounded up a few of the boys, and we’re heading out in a few to go hunting.”
When he takes a breath, I snarl,
“You better fucking hope you find him before I do, brother because if you don’t there will be nothing left of him to find. Now, tell me how my woman really is, and why the fuck she hasn’t called me herself?”
“Don’t know how, but Lawson got wind of where you are and what you’re doing. He told Avery, and her first response when Sarge said he was gonna call you was to flip the fuck out and make him promise he wouldn’t,” he answers.
“And why the fuck would she say that?”
“She says she doesn’t want you losing focus. Avery knows you need this, so she’s willing to wait till you get home to break it to you,” he replies quickly.
“Yeah, well, she won’t be waiting long,” I hiss.
I stand up, making the sign for Maddox to follow me, and push my way through the crush of people until my boots hit the parking lot.
“I’ve got to call, Boss, find out what he wants Mad to do, and then I’ll be on my bike heading your way. Keep her at the clubhouse, brother. And for fucks sake, find that motherfucker before I get there.”
Hanging up, I turn to Maddox and fill in the blanks for him. He heard my side of the conversation, so it isn’t any wonder he already had the gist of things.
“Gage or I’ll pack your shit, you just worry about getting home to your woman.”
Boss wasn’t happy about my departure, but I didn’t give a fuck. Avery’s more import
ant than any vengeance I could dish out here, and it’s about time I showed her that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
~ Fury ~
“I think I left a blowjob at your house. Do you mind if I come and get it?”
- Fury’s text to Avery
“Avery? Goddamn it. Where is she? Avery,” I bellow, wrestling to keep my anger in check so that I don’t scare her any more than she already has been.
“She’s over there asleep, brother,” Deke mutters, pointing toward two couches someone’s pushed together to provide a makeshift bed.
It takes twenty or so long strides to get to her, and with each one I feel my rage begin to dissipate. Knowing that she’s here, safe, that no one touched her aside from the obvious bruising I can see from here, calms my savage beast.
On the three hour ride back to Furnace, I thought about all the ways this could have ended. None of them were good, and it took everything I had to keep my bike level to stop from running off the highway.
Avery’s been through plenty already. She came out the other side of her last ordeal, but my fear was that this might trigger some sort of regression. Not that she’d fold or succumb to the depression I knew she fought hard to keep at bay, but that it’d take months to get her back to where she was before I walked out of her apartment this afternoon.
None of that mattered, though. As long as she was alive, breathing, and still mine, I’d do anything and everything I needed to get her there.
Stopping a foot short, I drop into a crouch and stroke the hair that’s fallen over her face away. Unfortunately, that action reveals the nasty bruise which takes up half the left side of her face and the two-inch gash on her cheekbone.
“She only fell asleep an hour ago. Poor thing was fucking exhausted. She stirred when she heard your voice, but didn’t have it in her to wake up all the way,” Sarge comments from the recliner he’s pulled up to watch over her.
“How the fuck does something like that happen right under our noses?” I mutter, continuing to stroke Avery’s hair soothingly.
“It’s the way of the world, boy. Shit happens and then you die. If you’re lucky, before you do, you find a good woman, make beautiful babies, and live life to the fullest,” he returns sagely. “Avery’s strong, Fury. Stronger than a lot of women out there. She and Blaine came tearing into the forecourt like a bat out of hell, but neither of them was shaking or crying. Rock solid, they were. There’s a lot to be grateful, boy, and that girl in front of you is one of those things.”
“I know that, and I am. Fucking trust me, I am.”
“Well, then what are you doing here talking to an old man like me? Pick her up and get her to bed. She deserves a good night sleep, and after the four shots of tequila we gave her she should get it,” Sarge suggests.
Taking his advice, I lean down and gather Avery gently into my arms, cradling her like the precious cargo she is. She mumbles softly into the skin of my neck but doesn’t wake up. It isn’t until I’ve removed her jeans, leaving her in her panties, bra, and shirt that Avery cracks her eyes open and sighs,
“Tanner.”
As quickly as I can, I shuck my jeans, boots, and socks, my cut followed by my tee, keeping my boxer briefs on. Sliding into bed beside her, I pull her into my arms and revel in the fact she comes willingly.
Avery snuggles into my side, resting her head in the crook of my arm, her breath fanning across my chest.
“How you doing, baby? You hurting?”
“It’s not so bad, Tanner. Like I told Deke, it looks worse than it is,” she murmurs quietly, placing a kiss just above my nipple.
“It’ll hurt like a bitch tomorrow if it isn’t already,” I tell her. “Sarge said he plied you with tequila so you’ll be good for tonight, but come morning, you’re gonna need painkillers, baby. I want to get you to the hospital to have you checked out too.”
“Mm,” she hums.
“Scared the shit out of me getting that phone call, baby,” I admit into her hair. “I know why you thought it was for the best to keep it from me, but I’m telling you now; don’t do it again. You’re more important to me than anything else, Avery, and just knowing you were here, hurt fucking kills me. You should have let me be here for you to take care of you.”
Before I can go on, she sighs,
“You are. You’re right here, Tanner.”
With nothing else to say, I reply,
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Placing a kiss on her forehead, and then one on her lips, I tighten my grip on her hip where my hand is resting. “Go to sleep, baby. We’ll talk tomorrow. For tonight, just let me hold you.”
I don’t get a response because she’s already drifted off again. I wish I could say I did the same. Instead, I lay awake most of the night watching her sleep. I was grateful for every breath she took. Every murmured sigh. And every moan that left her beautiful mouth.
Thinking about Lawson and what I wanted to do to him didn’t consume me the way I thought it would. If anything, the feeling was fleeting. It came and left just as quickly. The old me would have been out for blood. I would have waited for Avery to fall asleep and then gone out hunting for him with my brothers.
Now, I have different priorities. The woman in my arms being at the top of that list. Because my place is here with her, I won’t do what the darker side of myself is demanding, regardless of how much I want to give in to it.
Life is about learning from our mistakes. And of the mistakes I’ve made, leaving Avery unprotected is the biggest. If it takes forever, I intend to make it up to her whether she says there’s a need to or not. I know what she’ll say; that it isn’t my fault, but part of me disagrees. If I hadn’t been hell-bent on meeting out justice to the bastards who hurt her the first time, I would have been here. This wouldn’t have happened.
But things change, and so do people. Or, at least, I know I have. It might only be a recent development, but there’s no going back for me. Avery will have to put up with me being obsessive over her safety for the time being, or for as long as it takes for me to forget how vulnerable she looks lying in my arms tonight.
The way I see it, there was one positive that came from this. I know now without a doubt that Avery is my one. And as such, I’ll break my back making sure I give her everything she wants and needs. Along with a few things she doesn’t know she wants or needs yet.
*****
Three months later…
Walking in the door, Avery attacks me. Undoing my jeans, she peels them down my legs along with my boxers – which I don’t usually wear and I’m cursing right about now – and wraps her hot, wet mouth around the head of my cock. I’m not sure what I did to deserve this, but whatever it was I hope she’ll tell me so I can do it again. Preferably every day.
Licking up and down my shaft like it’s her favorite flavor of lollipop, Avery uses her tongue to tease the notch on the underside of my cock where it meets the head. She fucking knows that shit drives me crazy, which I prove, spearing my hands into her hair, guiding the movement of her head as I fuck her face.
Avery moans, her mouth full of me, sending ripples of pleasure down my shaft. I won’t be able to hold back for long if she keeps this up. In an effort to delay the inevitable, I reach down and grip the base of my cock tightly in my hand, staving off my orgasm so that I can draw this out.
Avery peers up at me from underneath her dark, thick eyelashes with a grin tipping her beautiful mouth, telling me all I need to know. She wants me to lose control. She wants me to come in her mouth. And she wants me to do it now. As long as Avery realizes what’s she’s in for, as far as I’m concerned, she can do whatever the fuck she wants.
Increasing the pressure of her tongue, Avery strokes her hand in a downward motion as her mouth eases its way up. It feels so fucking good. Her lips, the heat of her mouth, the gentle pressure of her hand; fucking phenomenal.
Releasing the base of my shaft, Avery grips my ass, running her fingers across it until one of her fingers finds its way to
my asshole. Tensing, I consider pulling back and asking her what the fuck she’s doing, but as she begins to stroke the sensitive flesh I can’t help but admit it feels fucking amazing.
Avery doesn’t need any more incentive to increase the pressure there, her finger slipping past the tight ring of muscle until it’s buried to the first knuckle. Tentatively stroking in and out, Avery takes her cues from me as I coerce her to take my cock further into the back of her throat.
The suction of her mouth becomes too much, but as I’m about to bend down, scoop her up and head for our bedroom, Avery thrust her finger into my ass to the last knuckle, grazing the tip over a hidden bundle of nerves I never knew I had.
Instantaneously, I come harder than I’ve ever come before. Spurt after spurt of my come fires from my cock which is still buried in Avery’s throat. Swallowing everything I’ve got to give her, not wasting a drop, Avery continues to caress my ass, slowly removing her finger when she knows she’s milked me dry.
Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas Page 59