Running Blind

by SE Jakes

“We’re on the same team here,” Sweet reminded them. “Gypsy, at the least, let’s let Bram bluff them.”

  Gypsy growled a little, but relented with a quick nod.

  “Good. Both of you stay out of sight for now.” Sweet motioned for them to move to the side of the computer, where he and Gypsy could see the screen but Bones wouldn’t see them . . . and he rang Bones.

  After several rings, Bones appeared on the screen, like he’d been waiting for this. Anticipating. “Figured you’d call back. I think I’ve got something of yours.”

  Bram’s belly twisted with rage as he saw Linc. His mouth and nose were covered with a cloth but it was definitely Linc. Out of the corner of his eye, Bram saw Gypsy beginning to lunge toward the screen as if he could break through and save Linc from being waterboarded, and he grabbed Gypsy’s arm hard, stopping him.

  The man pouring water over Linc’s face through the cloth stopped momentarily, pulled the cloth completely away so they could watch Linc’s face contort in pain as he coughed, a hollow sound that rattled through their silent room.

  “What do you want, Bones?” Sweet asked calmly.

  “Tell Geoff to come home,” Bones said crisply.

  “It’s been a long time—Heathens is no longer his home,” Sweet reminded him.

  “You never get over losing family,” Bones said, and Bram, who watched the Skype session from the side, surrendered. For Gypsy, Linc, and Sweet.

  For himself. “Take me instead.”

  Bones narrowed his eyes and then nodded. Bram had changed his voice to mimic Monk’s heavy drawl but . . . “You look different, Monk.”

  “It’s still me,” Bram told him.

  “We’ll never stop coming for you,” Bones assured him. “But for now, Geoff’s who I want.”

  He motioned for the man to start waterboarding Linc again, and Bram watched helplessly as Linc struggled under the constant, steady flow of water. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours if you stop that shit now.”

  “Why should I?” Bones asked.

  “I have secrets I assume you don’t want shared,” Bram said, thinking about the overseas account—his only leverage. “I have accounting information. You kill me, it dies with me. You kill him . . .”

  Bones stared at him with violence in his eyes, then nodded. He turned and told the man, “Stop,” and they all watched Linc cough. Vomit. And then glare at the Heathens like he would kill them at the very first opportunity.

  He’d turned into something dark during his kidnapping—he no doubt had to, in order to save himself.

  Dammit.

  “After your stunt the other night, we’ve escalated the process,” Bones said. “We’d planned to keep Linc here longer, mainly because he really seems to be enjoying our hospitality.”

  “Fucker. Fuck you,” Bram spat at the computer.

  “Good to see you’ve recovered,” Bones jeered. “I don’t know why you’re helping Havoc now, except to get back at us. But I’m a reasonable man, so I’m up for a trade.”

  “I’ll be there,” Bram growled.

  “There’ll be consequences,” Bones warned him. “For the other night. For leaving us. And now, for threatening us. But I don’t think Sweet would argue that a club needs consequences to keep its members in line. There are rules, and Sweet was always big on rules.”

  Sweet remained silent, but Bram noted the muscles in his jaw working overtime.

  “Be here by four o’clock or the torture resumes,” Bones told them. “And Geoff? Brother, you’ll never be safe.”

  “He’s scum,” Bram said when Sweet cut the connection. “I’m taking him out.”

  “What happened to vengeance changing a man?” Sweet asked, without a trace of judgment.

  “Like a wise man once told me, maybe I need changing,” Bram said fiercely. “And Linc’s okay. Pissed, but okay.”

  “Pissed is good. Means he’ll fight,” Sweet agreed.

  But Gypsy . . . he stood there brokenly. “I don’t like this choice.”

  “Me neither. But it has to be done. Please—just take care of Linc, no matter what he’s like after all this. Fucking promise me,” Bram demanded of both men.

  Gypsy stared at him and nodded, and then he walked out. Bram went after him and Sweet didn’t stop him.

  “Gypsy . . .”

  Gypsy stopped, squared his shoulders, and turned. “Must’ve been hell in there for you.”

  “Wasn’t pretty. But it was a job, not my life,” Bram said quietly. “It must’ve been true hell for you.”

  He wasn’t sure what Gypsy would do with that but he finally nodded. “Yes”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Gypsy held a hand up. “I think we both are.” He paused. “Not many around here know about me.”

  “I’m damned good at secrets.”

  “Yeah. Guess you are.” Gypsy nodded. “You can get out of there, Bram. I have faith in you. Don’t you dare give up when you get in.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” Bram told him. But he’d also come to peace with the fact that he might not make it out of there alive.

  “You can’t go alone—”

  Bram held up his hand, resigned to the fact that he knew—that they both knew—that this conversation was both necessary and inevitable. “You can’t go. You can’t risk sending in Havoc or you’ll escalate an all-out war. I’m not worth that.”

  “Bullshit,” Sweet growled.

  “You can’t mean that,” Bram told him. “This place is your whole life. You just met me—”

  “And you’ve given a lot for this club.”

  “And brought a lot down on you too. You owe Linc, yeah, but I’m going in for him. Because Gypsy can’t.” Bram paused. “I think Gypsy loves him, if Gypsy’s capable of loving anyone. He’s more like me than I realized—he’s right about that. But I have to do this alone.”

  Sweet turned away and stared out at the view from his porch. The lush green land seemed to vibrate with a truth even Bram could feel, and he was starting to understand why the men believed that Havoc land was as much a member of Havoc as they were.

  “I can do this, Sweet. I do it for a living.”

  “This time, it’s personal. I know from experience that personal can fuck up any mission.”

  Bram couldn’t argue. “I’m going in. From there . . .”

  “We’ll be waiting close by.”

  “No backup comes inside,” Bram said firmly. Sweet didn’t say a word, and Bram figured that was the best he’d get.

  After watching Bram take off in his truck, Sweet stared out at his land again and begged a silent plea, a prayer, to anyone or anything that was listening.

  “I’d go in with him,” Tug offered.

  Sweet wasn’t sure when he’d showed, but he was grateful for the sentiment. “I know.”

  “We all would, Sweet. Say the word,” Tug continued. “I know Bram’s got a death wish, but we could end this.”

  “And end up dead or in jail,” Sweet reminded him. “It would be an all-out war—”

  “Not if there aren’t any Heathens left to tell the tale,” Tug said, just as Ozzie’s bike stormed up the hill. “Something’s up.”

  Sweet agreed silently, and he and Tug strode out to meet Ozzie, who didn’t turn his bike off before shouting, “Gypsy’s gone.”

  “For how long?” Sweet demanded.

  “No idea. He’s not a prisoner. No one realized we had to keep him here,” Ozzie said, but that wasn’t exactly true. Even if most of Havoc didn’t realize Gypsy’s lineage, they knew Gypsy’s relationship with Linc. All it would take was one word from Gypsy and they’d let him go get his revenge on Heathens.

  “Who went with him?” Sweet asked.

  “No one,” Ozzie confirmed.

  “Shit.” Sweet fisted his hands and fought the urge to throw Ozzie off the bike and head into Heathens himself. In his younger days, he would’ve.

  When you weren’t president of Havoc. Now, he had a responsibility to the clu
b to do things like not die.

  “We’ll go after him,” Ozzie said. “Send me and Tug and Boomer. We’ll stay quiet. Won’t start anything. Just backup.”

  Sweet didn’t hesitate to nod. “Put men at the gates. All of them. We have to keep Havoc safe.” Then he paused for a long moment. “You don’t know what you’re walking into.”

  All three of the men going in had been in the military—two Marines and one Air Force. They’d been in life-or-death situations, and the two who stood before him were calm in their choice.

  “We’re good, Sweet,” Tug assured him. “We’ll get Gypsy. And if we can help Bram out—”

  “Just go,” Sweet told them. “And stay on the protected channel—I want constant contact.”

  The ride into Heathens was a long dirt road, a trip Bram dreaded every day he worked this job. Today, he sped up, dust kicking up behind him, and he cleared his mind of everything but getting Linc out. He had weapons. Flash bangs. Knives. If he was going down, it was only after Linc was safely out and he was taking as many Heathens with him as he could.

  He expected to see Heathens out on the road waiting for him, but it was oddly deserted. As he got closer, he heard shouts. Saw flames. Wondered if they planned on burning him on the stake but quickly realized that the club members were too busy to even notice him.

  That’s when he saw Linc emerge from the bushes along the side of the road, limping toward his truck. He shoved the brakes on and went to get out to help Linc, who yelled, “Stay inside—I’ve got it.”

  Bram was halfway out when Linc managed to run toward the truck and get himself into the back seat. Bram looked to where Linc had come from and saw that the Heathens were starting to notice him, even as the flames from their compound shot higher into the air.

  It wasn’t the time for more revenge—someone had already taken that job on themselves.

  “Please, Bram—get the hell out of here,” Linc whispered.

  Bram shut Linc’s door and then got in and backed down the drive doing ninety. “Linc, talk to me.”

  “Tired, Bram. But I’m all right.” A lie, but Linc was here. Safe. “Bones is dead.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. They think I did it. Fuck, I wish. But when the fire started, I was able to grab Bruno’s keys.” A long pause. “He’s dead too.”

  “Good for you, Linc.”

  Linc’s laugh was small and sarcastic. “Good for me. Yeah.”

  “Just hang on—I’ll get you to the hospital. And I’m not leaving your side.”

  “Sweet, there’s a shit-show going on out here.” Ozzie’s voice crackled across the secure line. “Heathens’ compound is on fire.”

  “Any sign of Linc or Bram?” Sweet asked.

  “Tug called Bram and it went to voice mail. There’s no sign of Bram’s truck or of Linc. All we know for sure is that Bones and Bruno are dead. Heathens are too busy putting out the fires to deal with much else.”

  Just then, a text from Misha came through.

  Bram just brought Linc in. He’s going to be okay.

  “Bram’s good—he got Linc to Misha,” Sweet told them. “What about Gypsy?”

  “No sign of him,” Ozzie confirmed. “Want us to stick around watching or go in and add to the damage?”

  Sweet was about to tell him to go in when he caught sight of a figure coming out of the woods, walking casually.

  Gypsy.

  Dammit. “Gypsy’s back here. You all should get here too. This is just the beginning.”

  Misha met Bram and Linc at the ER, and Misha rushed Linc back into a curtained area, only allowing Bram to come back with them because Linc wouldn’t let go of his hand.

  “Linc, it’s okay. She’s good people,” Bram told him. Linc nodded—he was zoned out on something, maybe overdosed, but he’d fought. There were wounds on his hands, and not only defensive ones. “You’re safe.”

  “I know,” Linc mouthed. “Are you?”

  “Yes,” Bram said with a confidence he didn’t feel. It was enough to satisfy Linc, who surrendered his hand as long as Bram stayed close.

  “I texted Sweet to let him know you’re here,” Misha said.

  “Thanks. He needs to know,” Bram said tiredly. He’d wanted to call Sweet but he’d also wanted to keep him at Havoc. Safe. “He’s okay?”

  “He’s fine,” Misha assured him as she grabbed the blunted scissors. She glanced up at him before she cut off Linc’s clothes and Bram nodded, knowing what he’d see but refusing to look away. Linc was still awake—they wouldn’t give him anything until his tox screen came back.

  The cuts and bruises were consistent with beatings.

  “He’s got broken ribs and pneumonia,” Misha confirmed, and Bram had feared the latter when he’d heard the rattle in Linc’s chest.

  “They waterboarded him,” Bram murmured, and Misha raised her brows and then her expression tightened.

  “Bastards.” She ran her hand over Linc’s forehead. “I’m going to put an IV in, okay? Just for an antibiotic and fluids. You’ve got enough drugs on board to keep you pain-free for a while. When they wear off, I’ll give you something much different. Is that okay?”

  Linc looked between her and Bram and nodded.

  “Why don’t you try to sleep? This is just oxygen.” She showed him the nasal cannula and Linc nodded again, let her put the prongs into his nose. “I’m going to give you a treatment for your chest.”

  Linc had started to shiver. She asked the nurse for a warm blanket and got one. “Nothing on him now we can’t take care of later. He doesn’t need stitches. He needs rest.”

  Rest and relaxation. This time, he was the one who grabbed Linc’s hand and wouldn’t let go.

  There would be blowback—Sweet anticipated it, prepared for it, and wasn’t disappointed when the Heathens drove over the Shades Run border.

  His men met them there, Sweet leading the pack. He’d forced Gypsy to remain inside and Gypsy hadn’t given him any issues. Gypsy also wouldn’t give him any goddamned answers about what happened over at Heathens, which really gave Sweet all the answers he needed.

  He’d had to leave Bram and Linc at the hospital with Misha and a couple of Havoc men guarding. Ozzie, Tug, and Boomer were at his side. Heathens were going to get what was coming to them.

  Parisi and his asset? They already had.

  The biker who edged into Linc’s hospital room made Bram jump to attention. Even working on zero sleep, he had the guy pinned to the wall in seconds demanding, “Who the fuck are you?”

  From behind him, he heard Linc whisper, “Jethro. Hey.”

  Jethro. Right. Bram had never met him in person, and for good reason. Undercover agents kept the lowest possible profiles in order to avoid accidental detection.

  Still, Bram continued to stared at him until Jethro said, “Linc, can you call your bodyguard off?”

  “He’s cool, Bram,” Linc said.

  “Real fucking cool,” Bram growled.

  Jethro stared at him. “Havoc’s fighting to keep Heathens out of Shades as we speak. I’m here for backup. It should be over soon.”

  Bram nodded and let him go, watched the big man with the dark-blue bandana wrapped around his head and a Hangmen MC vest go right up to the bed and take Linc’s hand in his. “Hey kid. You hanging in there?”

  “Much as I can.” Linc glanced over at Bram. “That’s my brother, Bram.”

  Jethro nodded at Linc and then slowly turned to Bram. “Heard a lot about you.”

  “I’ll just bet,” Bram muttered.

  “You guys have something in common,” Linc managed.

  Bram narrowed his eyes. “Linc, did you call him here on purpose?” he demanded, but Linc’s eyes closed, as they’d been doing, as per the strong painkillers being pumped into his system.

  And even after all Linc had been through, he was still worried about Bram.

  “Let’s talk,” Jethro suggested. He went to the door, looked out, then closed it and motioned for
Bram to join him by the window. But not before he swept the room for bugs.

  “I already did that.”

  “Bet you did.” Jethro stuck his hand out. “Fellow Army.”

  “Good for you.”

  “You went into the ATF about three years after me,” Jethro continued and Bram stared at him. “I’ve been undercover with the Hangmen for years now. I was under and alone for three years before they discovered who I was.”

  “And you lived to tell the tale?”

  “Better than that. They left me alone. I was in to hang the Pagans, not the Hangmen, and that benefitted the Hangmen more than anything.”

  “How the fuck?” Bram sputtered.

  “It’s not easy,” Jethro admitted to him. “I’m active—you’re not. I’m alive by the grace of God and the Hangmen. I thought I was looking at a bullet in the head. But this lifestyle? It suits me. I can do my job and ride bikes. And I’ve done a damned lot of good for this town.”

  He had—Bram knew there was an agent on the inside helping to take down the Pagans, but he’d never imagined how deep undercover the guy would have to be. Thing was, he was looking at the real guy—what Jethro was doing wasn’t an act.

  “My dad rode for the Watchers,” Jethro said, referencing a now-defunct club that had been folded into the Hangmen. “I had some damned fine memories. It was also my way into the Hangmen.”

  “You’re close with them.”

  “Yep.”

  “And suppose they’re committing crimes?”

  Jethro shrugged. “They’re not running drugs, guns, or women. They’re not my job to police. I’m not doing anything illegal. That’s the only way I can look at things.”

  It was using blinders to a large extent, but Bram could understand the justification. It wasn’t like the ATF didn’t go above the law in order to accomplish what they needed to. “So why are you telling me this?”

  Jethro glanced at Linc. “Your brother? Always thinking about everyone else’s happiness.”

  “He wants me to stay with Sweet. At Havoc.”

  “You planning on going back to the ATF?” Jethro asked.

  “I’m cleared.”