"Colson!" Adler roared as he reached for his second gun.
There was something in his voice, deep, full of warning.
I turned just in time to see a flurry of motion in the doorway.
I didn't pause.
I didn't even think.
It was pure instinct as my arm rose, as my hand aimed, as my finger slipped to the trigger.
I watched in stunned numbness as three bullets landed in the chest cavity of a man whose gaze went pained, mouth forming a shocked O.
I didn't even realize Huck was moving until he stepped half between me and the man I'd shot, aiming, and putting a bullet between his eyes.
And just like that, it was over.
Again, there was no conversation as we all turned, fell into line, and made our way out the same way we'd come in, but our movements faster.
"What was that?" I hissed as we walked back toward the car.
"That was my body, not yours," Huck told me, shrugging. "Already got more than a few on my conscience. Saved that one from being on yours. Ready?" he asked the men as our car came into view.
Two of Lo's people were there, one cleaning the car. I could smell the bleach from a couple yards away.
The other stood there with an oversized shopping bag, the handles held open, a silent invitation.
We all knew the plan, dropping our guns in, reaching to rip off the top layer of our shirts, changing colors in case we had been seen.
With that, she gave us a nod, turned, and walked away.
"Alright. You know the plan," Huck said.
And we did.
So we all broke off in opposite directions, walking back toward the clubhouse.
We weren't supposed to go directly there, though.
Reign's crew—Reign, Fallon, Pagan, and Sugar—was the first meant to arrive back, washing off the gunpowder, tossing clothes and shoes in the washer.
The second crew was Cash, Wolf, Virgin, and Roan.
We were to be the third to return, mostly, I thought, because Huck was a high-value member of the club, being the president of the sister chapter.
Then, everyone else would shuffle in after us. Some, the ones who lived close, would go home to shower, to wash their clothes, making their way back only when they knew all the evidence was gone.
But it was all meant to be over by two in the morning.
Every man would be back at the clubhouse. We would have church, go over all the details.
Then, well, if all went to plan, we were free.
Those with women and children could go fetch them from Hailstorm, hug them, bring them home, make up for lost time. Huck and his crew could head back down to Florida, Che and his busted ribs and all.
And the club would go back to normal.
Needing to burn some time, I made it over toward the better part of town, dipping into a convenience store, browsing around.
And then I saw them.
Boxes of Eva's Cosmic Brownies.
Four in all.
Not exactly a lifetime supply, but it was a start.
So I bought them out.
Checking the time, I had about half an hour, and about that long of a walk, so I started back, nodding at Che who was coming in from a different direction.
"Weird flex," Finn said, eyeing my brownies, "But okay," he added, shaking his head as he opened the door for me, not wanting me to transfer any evidence.
"She's waiting in your room," Huck told me, having arrived first, long enough before me that he was showered and changed, his hair wet. "Couldn't have her in the common space. The prospects are going to bleach the floors."
"Reign? The others?" I asked.
"Pagan took a shot to the shoulder. Fallon got grazed on the thigh. As far as I know, that is it. So far," he added, making it clear the night was far from over, and we had a lot of brothers on those streets still, fates unknown. "Shower," he demanded, jerking his chin toward the hall. Clothes go in the bag outside your door. Brooks'll grab them."
"Okay," I agreed, nodding.
"Oh, thank God," Eva said as I opened the door to my room, pausing in the doorway. "Huck said you were okay, but I needed to see it myself. What are you—" she started as my hands dropped the boxes on the dresser just inside, then reached for my shirt, dragging it up and off my body. "Oh," she said, breath starting to come faster as I tossed the shirt into the bag, going for the button and zipper of my jeans as I kicked out of my shoes. "I, ah," she went on, shaking her head, not knowing what to say as I continued to strip until I was in nothing but my boxers.
I paused for the barest of minutes, liking the way her eyes were roaming over me too much to move, before I finally jerked myself out of it, bending forward to tuck the rest of my clothes into the bag.
"Wait," Brooks said, appearing out of nowhere, wearing yellow dish gloves, making me stop and turn. "The brownies," he said, making my heart skip a bit. The nice gesture I made. I couldn't make it. Of course I couldn't. I'd touched them with gunpowder on my hands.
"Right," I agreed, handing them to him with a sigh.
"Eva," he called, making me look at him, then her. "Pull out the nightstand drawer," he demanded, and Eva was a little too in shock to do anything but blindly follow directions. "Hold it out," he demanded as she walked over toward him. Then he ripped into the box, careful not to touch anything inside as he dumped the wrapped brownies into the drawer, one box at a time. "Don't wanna fuck with your game, man, just have to take away any evidence," Brooks said, giving me a knowing smirk. "Wipe that dresser with some bleach. Use some TP and flush it. Then we're all good."
With that, he collected my bag, and my boxes, and he was off to clean them.
"It's almost scary how much they know when they aren't even technically members of the club yet, isn't it?" Eva asked when we were alone, taking the drawer back to the nightstand, shoving it in. "I will clean the dresser. Go shower. That seems to be very important right now. I don't think this club has ever been so full of such fresh and clean men before," she said, attempting to lighten what was a heavy mood.
Knowing I had to, I moved into my bathroom, turning on the shower, stripping out of my boxers, and climbing into the shower, pulling the glass door shut behind me.
It wasn't long after that there was a tentative knock at the open door to the bathroom, drawing my attention to find Eva standing there, eyes downcast.
"Yeah, babe?" I called.
"I, ah, need the bleach under the sink counter," she told me.
"Yeah, come in," I invited, feeling my cock stir to life at seeing her so close when I was naked.
She nodded, but kept her head down as she moved into the space, grabbing the bottle of bleach out of the cabinet under the sink, then turning toward the toilet paper like Brooks had instructed.
It was then that she got brave, when she let her curiosity get the better of her. Because I saw her eyes cut my way, taking in as much of me as she could with the steam starting to fog up the glass.
It wasn't the time or place, but my hand still slid down my stomach, closed around my hard cock, stroked it to the hilt as she watched.
She looked on for one more stroke before turning so fast she rammed her hip into the side of the cabinet, hissing out her breath, but charging out of the room, pretending like wiping down that spot on the dresser was a matter of national security.
Even with that attention to detail, she made her way back toward me, putting away the bleach, flushing the possible gunpowder residue away, then washing her hands in the sink.
It seemed to be then that her control snapped, making her turn toward me, her breath coming out quicker than usual as her gaze moved down my body, pausing and holding on my cock as I continued to stroke it, her lips parting, her eyes going heavy-lidded.
I wanted to reach out, to pull her in, to strip her down, to sink inside of her.
But we couldn't.
The night was far from over.
And I didn't want to have to rush through it so that I co
uld get back to church.
So I continued to stroke.
She continued to watch.
I came hard, my fist slamming into the wall as I hissed out my breath.
She never looked away.
Even after I was done, while I scrubbed at my arms, face, neck, everywhere, making sure I didn't miss anything before finally cutting off the water, moving out, grabbing the towel.
She turned then, facing the mirror, rewashing her hands again as I dried off.
I wrapped and tucked the towel, moving in behind her, watching her reflection until her gaze found mine.
When I had it, my hand slipped across her hip, slid down underneath the waistband of her pants and panties, sliding up her wet pussy.
Her head fell back onto my chest as her eyes went hazy, her breath coming harder and faster as I slipped a finger inside her, feeling her tight walls clench around me.
My thumb went to her clit, circling as my finger started to fuck her, as another finger slipped inside, as her ass wiggled against me, stirring my cock back to life as I drove her up, her sharp breaths becoming whimpers that became moans that started to echo off the tile in the room.
My other hand rose, closing over her mouth, watching as her eyes burned in the mirror as I continued to work her, feeling her walls tighten as her breath caught, then she crashed down into her orgasm, crying out against my palm.
She came back down slowly, her body trembling slightly as my hand moved from her mouth, fingers tracing down her jaw, the side of her neck.
"We can—" I started, cutting off at the sharp rap at the bedroom door, a sound that made Eva twist away from me, getting my hand caught in her panties for a second before I pulled it out.
"Yeah?" Eva called, voice overly bright, trying to cover up how she was actually feeling.
Brooks opened the bedroom door, a purple pair of gloves on his hands this time.
"I need to scrub the bathroom now," he told me, giving me a nod.
"Okay," I agreed, grabbing some clothes out of the dresser, pulling my pants on under the towel before dropping it, reaching for a tee, slipping it on. "All yours," I said, giving him a nod. "Eva, maybe you should go hang with Jacob for a bit?" I suggested. "You've got to be tired, and they are just going to be cleaning every inch of this place for hours still. At least you can get some rest in the barracks with Jacob."
"Okay," she agreed, giving me a tight smile as she went to walk past.
My arm reached out, grabbing her arm just as a voice called from outside.
Calling for Reign.
In a high, worried tone.
I didn't even notice she was running with me as I followed everyone else back out to the yard, grabbing a gun in my free hand as I went past.
But we weren't being invaded.
A truck was simply idling in front of the compound.
The front had blacked-out windows.
Even as Lo's guys tried to move around to get a look through the front dashboard, the lift gate door dropped open, something was rolling out, and the truck was peeling off.
"What the..." Fallon started, already running.
He was the first one there, Lo's men patrolling, looking for any other possible threats in case this was some sort of distraction.
I could see some of my brothers breaking off to do the same.
Just as I realized Eva was behind me.
"Fuck. You need to go back—" I started, cutting off when Fallon pushed what had fallen out of the truck over with the tip of his shoe.
Not something.
Someone.
"Shit, that's—" Reign started, head whipping over toward me as recognition hit.
I didn't recognize him.
But Eva?
Eva sure as fuck did.
"Oh, God," she gasped before wrenching away from me, dropping down to the ground, and retching.
Fuck.
That was her brother.
Miguel.
And someone had turned his body into a bloody pulp before they put him out of his misery.
Then dropped him in front of our gates.
"Okay. Alright," I said, dropping down, pulling Eva's hair back with one hand, the other rubbing across her hips. "It's going to be alright," I added, even though I didn't know that, I couldn't know that.
I had no idea what the hell was happening.
"What the fuck is going on?" Reign hissed, echoing my thoughts. "Rounds," he called out to the men gathered around. "Fallon, call everyone who isn't back yet. They either need to go home or they need to go to Hailstorm. We have to call the cops," he added to the silence that followed his words. "Colson," he added, moving closer to me. "You have to get her and the kid out of here," he said. "Now," he added when I looked up at him.
"Okay," I agreed, not knowing the plan, but knowing I needed to follow whatever part of it he was giving to me. "Huck, the kid," Reign demanded, and Huck ran back into the clubhouse.
"He can't see," Eva was whimpering, her body trembling. "He can't," she added more forcefully, looking up at Reign.
"He won't," he assured her, nodding toward the men still gathered around, watching as they moved out to make a shield with their bodies as Huck brought him out of the building.
"What's going on?" Jacob asked.
"No time to talk about that now, kid," Huck told him, practically dragging him across the front grounds as I reached down, scooping up Eva, following Huck's lead.
"There's a blue car parked one street over," one of Lo's men said, tossing me a set of keys, taking off in a different direction, likely catching a ride with the other guard, both of them knowing they had to get out of there with their illegal guns before the cops descended.
As I made it to the corner of the street, I could see the men rushing back inside, likely to get rid of their own weapons, to make sure the clubhouse was clean, even as poor fucking Brooks wordlessly moved out front with a bucket, washing Eva's vomit away.
If there was one kid I wanted in the club, he was the one I would give my vote to get a cut.
"You good from here?" Huck asked, shoving Jacob into the backseat as I shuffled Eva into the front.
"I wasn't told where to go."
"Take them home," he suggested. "I will fill you in as soon as I have something to say."
"Okay. Thank you."
"Take care of her," he said, wincing down at Eva who was still trembling, staring off out the windshield with a blank expression. In the backseat, Jacob was confused, but as he watched his mom, his eyes got wider, worried.
"I will," I agreed, nodding to him, then hopping into the car.
I didn't know what was going on.
I didn't know what to say.
But I did know what I could do.
I could take them home.
I could shoo Jacob up to his room.
I could comfort Eva.
So that was what I did.
While I waited to learn what the fuck was happening.
THIRTEEN
Eva
I couldn't stop the image from flashing across my eyes. Even when I closed them.
I saw every single awful detail.
In bright, vivid color.
Even though it had been dark out.
My mind chose to illuminate everything, make it something I could never forget.
Even as we drove away from the clubhouse, it played over and over on a reel.
The truck bed opening, something falling out, then the truck peeling away, leaving the lump of nothing in the street.
Only, it wasn't nothing.
It was Miguel.
It was my brother.
His face had been one giant bruise, his left eye swollen shut, his nose crunched to the side, his eyebrow and lip split open. Every part of him was swollen, distorting his once-familiar features.
Blood soaked through his white shirt.
So, so much blood.
Then, of course, there was the giant hole right there in the center of his forehead, ma
king it pointless to look for the rising and falling of his chest, the possibility of him surviving the beating he'd clearly gotten.
The bile rose up, the contents of my stomach forcing their way out.
Maybe I had no right to be so impacted, to feel so disgusted.
As I'd watched the men leave the clubhouse before, I knew what they were going to do. They were going to exact their revenge. On the entire gang.
But, most importantly, on my brother.
I'd known that.
I'd known he wasn't going to live through the night.
I had, in a sick sort of way, made my peace with that.
Maybe I had no right to be so upset by seeing the evidence of his lost life, the torture he'd endured before the end.
But it was there regardless.
My mind flashed back to early childhood memories, shared Christmases, looking for Easter Eggs around the apartment, laughing ourselves to tears when, two days later, everyone realized we'd somehow missed one of the boiled eggs, tucked deep in the toe of a shoe, fermenting, and making the entire apartment smell rotten, birthday parties, ghost stories alone in the apartment when our mom was at work.
There were good memories, once upon a time. And maybe I was grieving for those, even though they were long gone. Even though that boy had turned into a man I'd despised. Even if that man wanted to put my son in danger, turn him against me.
And another part of me was struggling with how to tell my son what happened, what I could possibly say to make something like this make sense?
"What happened?" I could hear my son ask from the backseat, but couldn't seem to respond, my vocal cords and my brain refusing to work in conjunction. "What's wrong with Mom?"
"We're going to explain it all to you, bud," Colson assured him from his position, cramped close to the steering wheel in a too-small car. "But can you let me get you guys home, and shake your mom out of this first?" he asked, genuinely waiting for an answer from Jacob.
"Is she going to be okay?"
"She is. I promise. It might be a couple of days, but she will come around, alright?"
"But what about my Grams?"
"I will hang with you guys to make sure she's okay. And I will have a nurse around to help."
Colson (The Henchmen MC Book 20) Page 15