The Club Betrayal: #8 Sons of Lost Souls MC series

by R. Hunter, Ellie

  Dropping his ass down at the bottom of the bed, Bert tells his man, “You know what to do.” When his guy steps in front of me, I give him a bright fuck you smile before it’s wiped off my face with a heavy blow to my head.

  The punches continue to my face, stomach, and ribs, and I struggle to breathe. My abdomen is on fire, but I fight the urge to pass out.

  “I will get to the bottom of this,” Bert warns me, then turns his attention to his man. “Leave him. We’ll go see for ourselves what they’re doing. Fill the bag with enough weapons to take them all down.”

  I can’t see past the blood hampering my vision, and I can barely hold my head up to see when they leave. I try again to loosen the restraints, but I’m not even sure if I’m actually moving. The thing with beatings is that they don’t hurt your mind. In my head, I’m freeing myself, running out the door and heading for Cas to warn him about the old mill, but I’m not. I settle for imagining Libby, knowing she’ll be pissed with me for missing our anniversary dinner last night, but fuck, if she still isn’t the hottest thing I’ve seen when she’s angry. She’s come so far from being the ice-cold woman I first met in a rickety old shed. Now, we don’t even think about those days. We live our lives secluded from society, with me venturing out when the club needs me, and her only visiting town when we need supplies. Most couples can’t last like that, spending so much time together, but for us, it makes us stronger. Every minute spent with her is a minute I’ll never regret. Falling asleep beside her every night, waking up to her every morning, knowing we’re not pressured by society to conform to a certain way of life, is freeing. It’s rare when she comes to the club, but she doesn’t love me any less for it.

  My lip throbs, and I’m not sure if it’s dribble or blood dripping from my mouth and down my chin. I think back on the day when Cas was doing everything he could to bring Oak and Sparky home, and I have every faith he’ll find me—I just have to hang on long enough. I’ll gladly take Lib’s anger, and then kiss the shit out of her.

  Nearly twenty years we’ve been together, and it’s not been long enough for me. Even fifty years together won’t be. She’s the one for me, and that’ll never change.

  A car alarm pierces the air, but it sounds wrong. It’s too loud, ringing sharply between my ears. Lifting my head, I take in my surroundings, finding nothing is out of place. Then it hits me that it’s the fire alarm.

  Outside, I distinguish two vans speeding off, and then the door is opening. I think I must be dying, because my old lady slips through the door, pausing at the sight of seeing the mess I’m in.

  “Oh, fuck. Dude, you alive?”

  It’s not Libby. Kneeling in front of me, I can see it’s the motel manager.

  “What the fuck?” he hisses, and I know this is it; this is my way out.

  “On the bed. Get the knife and cut me loose,” I mumble.

  He twists around, and every second he’s here and I’m not free, is a breath I can barely take. My body falls forward when he cuts through my wrist restraints, and then he’s hauling me up. I use him to steady myself until I can stand on my own, though it’s taking everything I have to do so.

  He sticks close, and when we get to the door, I catch him taking in the damage to my face.

  “Tell no one I was here, you hear me?”

  “I hear ya, man.”

  Stepping outside, the breeze assaults my cuts, but I sigh when I see not one van is parked out front. I do see my old lady parked up across the street, though. Holding my side—which doesn’t do anything to alleviate the pain—I limp across the road where she leans across and throws open the passenger door. I crash onto the seat, barely managing to close it as she peels away from the curb.

  “First, I’m not going to rip you a new ass until we’re at the club. Secondly, you being alive saves me from taking you out myself. And thirdly, you can thank me later.”

  There’s no time for kisses or soft words, not even an apology. She peels away from the curb, and we pass the fire trucks on our way out of town.

  “You set the fire?”

  “You said you’d be home in time for dinner last night.”

  Fuck, I love this woman.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cas

  “How many clubs did you infiltrate before you retired?”

  Aaron and Grace, Tal—Ethan’s parents, stop their hushed conversation between themselves at Sparky’s question.

  “That has nothing to do with this,” Grace says as they take a seat at our table.

  “You say Bert was staying at the motel in town? Well, he’d be arrogant enough to take your brother there, but he won’t kill him there. We should surround the place. When it comes to Bert, he moves fast, but not without foreplanning. He used to be approachable, but if you crossed him, he was deadly. He helped raise me, yet didn’t hesitate to shoot me, tie me up, and beat me with a pool cue. You don’t want to underestimate him, but he can be easily overpowered.”

  “Grace is right. He was a good soldier, but not so good at the top. He was sloppy,” Aaron adds.

  “The agent you say he has won’t have much time left. If he’s not already dead, we need to move.”

  “That amount of presence will attract attention,” I say, which makes her laugh.

  “Are you not the Lost Souls? I’m sure a club such as yours has the means to divert any unwanted attention until we’re done. With luck, we won’t need much of it.”

  Narrowing my eyes, the urge to shoot her myself intensifies.

  “We don’t have the cops in our pocket. It’s usually a quiet town, and as long as we keep our business here, they leave us alone. If we rock up at the motel and cause carnage…”

  Frustrated, she slams her hand down on the table. “If we don’t handle this fast, the cops will have reason to come sniffing around your club regardless.”

  “I agree with her. If we hold back, it could cost us another life,” Slade murmurs.

  I can see he’s thinking of India, but this is different. For once, we’re dealing with a brother and not an innocent. I snap the cigarette I took from Sparky’s pack earlier and crumble the broken pieces into mulch.

  “Take a vote if that’s what you need to do, but leave it any longer… Aaron and I are more than capable of taking him down ourselves. Or, is that what you’re waiting for?”

  Sitting forward, I lean my arm on the table and sneer. “If it was a case of using you to take down Bert for saving your son, I’d come out and say that, but he has our brother. If you two take this into your own hands, and he dies because you fuck up, I’ll make the two of you watch as I slice your son’s throat open.”

  Her lips purse into a thin line, and Aaron’s jaw clenches.

  “You might try to burn the world down to keep your son alive, but I’d fill the earth with bodies to keep mine and my brothers out of it.”

  Fire burns in their eyes, but it does in mine as well. But I’m not letting them have the last word.

  “I hear you were raised in a club. You know how this works and how far we’re willing to go. Do not test us, because you will lose. One way or another, you will fucking lose.”

  Rising from my chair, I loom over the two who bred a fucking snitch, and turn to look at my brothers. The men who I know in my heart will never disrespect our patch.

  “We’ll surround the motel and deal with the fallout after. No one is to make a move until I give the order. We’ll leave in ten minutes.” Brothers start to move, preparing to fight yet another fight.

  Calling over Mitch and the prospect, I order,

  “Ride in the van and go ahead. Try to call back with a count of how many are there and what we should expect when we arrive.”

  They both leave, and I turn to Aaron and Grace.

  “Arm yourselves, and be ready to fight for your son. He only stays alive if my brother does. Double cross us, you’ll die beside him.”

  They rise from their chairs. “We’ll be ready.”

  Sparky and Pope appear
at my side as they follow me out, and I exhale heavily.

  “Maybe we should send them out first?” Pope suggests.

  “No, we’re not going to give them a chance to double cross us. Pope, I want you to keep your eye on them while we deal with this. Anything concerns you, let me know.”

  Outside, the sky is darkening with the impending storm we’re due, which matches my mood. My club is under the strain of not having to bury another brother, and I feel the weight of it on my shoulders.

  Straddling my bike, I’m just about to switch on the engine when the gates open, with Mitch yelling my name. Climbing off, I head for the black Toyota driving in.

  I don’t recognise it until it comes to a stop and Libby jumps out, running around to the passenger side.

  “Can I get some help?” she yells, and I’m moving before she can ask twice.

  Dex groans as she tries to help him out, but I swiftly move her out of the way and help him myself. Ricky comes over as well, flanking Dex’s other side.

  Helping him into the bar, we sit him on the couch, the smell of his blood filling my nose.

  He’s alive, and that’s what counts. Libby shoves me out the way, not caring who I am, and drags the small table closer so she can sit before him.

  “I need towels, warm water, and a bottle of tequila.”

  I jerk my chin for Sparky to get on it and ask, “You wanna tell me how you’re here, brother?”

  “Ask my old lady,” he says, wincing from the pain.

  Focusing on Libby, I raise my brows, letting her know I’m not so patiently waiting for an explanation.

  “I was in town, picking up supplies, when I saw through an open door my husband, tied to a chair. It was only a glance, but I’d know him anywhere. I went to call you, but I left my phone at home, being as I was pissed with him for not making dinner last night. I waited for you and the club, but you didn’t come. Something got their attention and they left, so I paid for a room and set fire to it, knowing the manager would check them all while waiting for the fire trucks. He found Dex, and then I drove him here.”

  My brother heaves himself forward, even though it causes him pain, and kisses his old lady. Even through the blood and bruises, cuts and welts, his adoration for his wife is still as clear as day.

  “I told him it was you who killed Danny.”

  I close my eyes to the small gasp, and turn to face Grace.

  “You killed Danny?”

  I just stare at her. Does she honestly think I’d admit out loud to her about who I’ve killed and who I haven’t?

  “I just want to know he suffered.”

  “Now that, I can tell you. He suffered for days before he took his last breath.”

  A frosty smile spreads across her face, so menacing, it has me stepping away from her. The darkness that has surrounded her since she showed up lightens, and I wonder if we’re so different after all.

  She walks into Aaron’s arms, who nods once at me before kissing the top of her head. Her back shudders as she starts to laugh hysterically.

  “She killed her own father, spent ten years in prison, took down a club with her fed lover, and it’s the death of Danny that has her laughing like a maniac?” Sparky whispers after handing Libby everything she needs.

  I don’t care for her life’s story. I prefer the here and now, and what I can see in front of me. I don’t underestimate anyone anymore, and these two are no different.

  For all her crimes, the fed, as clean as he should be, probably isn’t, and the fact he didn’t arrive with a shitload of agents to back him tells me he’s prepared to get his hands dirty by any means necessary to save his son. It’s a shame that they’re all going to die in order for me to keep my club safe.

  “Cas,” Dex chokes out as Libby sponges down his cheek. Dropping down on the end of the couch, I wait for him to speak, but his eyes drift closed as the fucker passes out.

  “What now?” Grace asks, her manic episode over.

  “Now it’s time to deal with Bert without anyone in our way. We don’t have to watch our step.”

  Turning to Slade, I say, “Find out where he is now. With the motel crawling with officers, he won’t go back there.”

  I much prefer fighting an opponent without someone I care about in the middle. You can fight as dirtily as you want, and fuck me, I’m up for a fight right now.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tal

  Holly fought falling asleep before she succumbed and drifted off. Her hands are clutched to her chest, and she’s shivering. I have no idea how, but I’m going to make this right for her.

  Lightning strikes, lighting up the old mill as thunder rolls across the sky. Raindrops beat against the run-down mill, which strangely soothes me. It doesn’t last long, though, when Leo strolls over, leans against the wall near where Holly sits sleeping, and lights a cigarette.

  “Why?” he asks, exhaling a long stream of smoke.

  He doesn’t have to explain. I’ve been waiting for one of them to ask.

  Rolling my head to look at Leo, I find him staring down at Holly. To distract him from her, I reply with, “Everything you say you stand for: brotherhood, loyalty, family—it’s all bullshit.”

  “Yeah? Is that so?” he huffs.

  “If you truly gave a shit about your families, you wouldn’t put them in the situations you do. The night Ellis killed India was the night I knew I was doing the right thing.”

  Shoving away from the wall, he’s on me before I can draw a worried breath, bunching my hoodie in his fists. His heavy pants of rage hit me in the face, gaining the attention of the others. They slowly close in, but don’t make a move to pull Leo off of me.

  “You don’t get to say her name,” he spits in my face.

  “Everything I planned to do was to bring her justice—proper justice, and not your kind.”

  He pulls his fist back, but JJ’s quick to clasp it and pull him away from me.

  “You all think you’re these heroic protectors, but it’s a smokescreen. You do what you want to do, regardless of who it gets killed. You’re all consumed with your own lives, which made it all too easy to join—say the right shit, do the right things.”

  JJ raises his brow. “So you’re the hero the world needs, are you?”

  Myles moves around Leo and crouches in front of me.

  “Nah, you’re no hero. I’ve seen the gleam in your eyes when you pull the trigger. No matter you’ve been playing undercover fucking cop, you’ve got blood on your hands. You’re no better than us.”

  “The blood on my hands doesn’t belong to innocents.”

  Myles laughs so hard, it’s unnerving.

  “Look, brothers, we have God right here, tied up at our feet.”

  Their laughter wakes Holly. Looking warily at the guys so close to her, she squirms where she sits. She doesn’t look or sound so good when she croaks out, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  Zachery goes to help her, but Leo steps in his way and takes hold of her arms, lifting her to her feet with ease.

  Walking across the mill, she stumbles and sways, causing Leo to stick to her too closely for my liking. Pointing off to the door leading to a small bathroom, she stops and turns to him when they reach it.

  Her lips move, and her gaze drops to the floor in what I think is embarrassment. I can’t see his face from here, but his shoulders are tense. When a tear drops down her cheek, she quickly swipes it away, and then he’s stepping forward to tug at her shorts. Her eyes never leave his as he does it, making me feel sick.

  “Isn’t she meant to be your girlfriend? I mean, I wouldn’t be happy if another brother was undoing her pants.”

  Ignoring Myles, I close my eyes. It’s not like I’m in any position to do anything about it.

  “Just because you shut your eyes, doesn’t mean it’s not happening. He hasn’t been with anyone in a long time. Don’t worry, he’ll probably be quick.”

  He’s fucking with me, I know he is. Leo’s still too hun
g up on India to look elsewhere, and this isn’t the time or place to fuck.

  “Leave him alone, Myles. The girl is the least of his problems,” Mason scoffs, kicking my leg as he steps over me, making Myles laugh.

  “What the fuck are you insinuating?” Zach snaps. “He’s helping her go to the bathroom.”

  Opening my eyes, I watch the twins roll their eyes, then look back over to see Leo leaning against the wall, waiting for Holly to come out.

  Holly

  Leo bangs on the door, yelling that I need to hurry my ass up, but his voice sounds far away. For the life of me, I can’t pull my shorts up. Hell, it was hard enough pulling my panties up. Staring into the cracked mirror, I struggle to focus on my reflection.

  Why is it so hot? I want so badly to splash cold water over my face, yet I can’t turn the faucet on, let alone use my bandaged hands to cup the water.

  Feeling nauseous, I spin around and drop to my knees, hovering over the toilet.

  Two bites of the burger I ate earlier hit the water, and my stomach contracts with every dry heave. Another round of banging hits the door as I slump down onto the dirty tiled floor, not caring that my cheek is lying on who knows what, only that the cold tile is refreshing. I curl into a ball, my body racked with shivers.

  I need to be sick, but for the life of me, I can’t move. When the door hits the wall, I don’t bother jumping, as it would involve using energy I don’t seem to have right now.

  “Oh shit,” I hear, and then I’m being moved onto my back. A large, cool hand rest flat on my forehead, which feels nice.

  “You’re burning up.”

  No shit. I feel like I’m on fire, yet I’m shaking like I’m freezing.

  “I’m dying,” I groan. “I’m dying for something that’s not even my fault.”

  I open my eyes to Leo tugging my shorts up. I should be embarrassed that he’s seen me in my underwear, but right now, I could be naked and not give one shit.