Fallen Rider (A Lost Saxons Novel Book 7)

by Jessica Ames

  It seems to last an eternity before it finally stops and silence fills the air again. The tension is heavy, the atmosphere crackling with energy.

  Jem doesn’t move for a moment, then he pushes up off me and I take a much needed breath into my deprived lungs.

  “You hit?” Jem demands as he gets to his feet, his eyes scanning the environment while trying to study me. I don’t answer immediately because I’m too busy trying to draw in air. He peers down at me and when he speaks this time he sounds more urgent. “Mackenzie, are you hit?”

  I shake my head, my mouth dry as I slowly sit up. Jem helps me the rest of the way to my feet and steadies me when I wobble a little. When he’s sure I’m going to stand up on my own, he then starts yelling to Lucas and Rabbit, checking if they’re unharmed. They both reply they’re good, which makes my heart rate slow a little—although not much.

  As soon as I’m sure everyone is okay, I punch Jem in the chest and then sign, “Are you crazy? Why’d you do that? You could have been killed!”

  He’s saved from answering by Logan’s voice snapping out, “What happened?”

  I glance around to see my eldest brother jogging across the tarmac towards us. His face is a mask of concern, as his eyes dart between both of us.

  I’m not surprised when Logan comes directly to me, his hands going to my shoulders as he gives me a once over.

  Wade and Weed are on his heels, both men alert and, from the looks of it, irritated.

  “Drive by. Fucking Reapers,” Jem mutters, his gaze roaming over my face. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I nod again, then sign, “I’m fine, Jem.”

  I’m a little winded, but I keep that to myself. Jem already seems close to freaking out.

  Logan peers at me, as if trying to gauge the validity of my assertion, then bites out. “Weed, take her inside.”

  The last thing I want to do is leave my brothers out here, but this is not a battle I’ll win. I’d rather Weed didn’t put me over his shoulder and drag me into the building, so I go willingly. Once the doors of the foyer are shut, I finally let my anxiety loose.

  “We were shot at,” I sign to Weed.

  My heart rate starts to race as the severity of the situation sinks in.

  Weed rubs the back of his neck.

  “Sorry, darlin’. My BSL is a little rusty.”

  He’s one of the few brothers who isn’t at least semi-fluent in sign language, but usually there’s someone else around to translate for him. Not now. Now, we’re alone in the foyer.

  He looks guilty as hell about this, so I shake my head, indicating it doesn’t matter.

  “The girls are in the common room,” he tells me, jutting his chin in that direction. “Go and join them.”

  I nod again and head that way, my legs feeling a little shaky. We were just shot at.

  In the middle of the day.

  How does that happen?

  It’s not the first time the clubhouse has been targeted, but it is the first time I’ve been caught up in something like this. About nine months ago, Beth and Lo were caught up in another shooting—this one courtesy of Liv’s crazy ex-husband, Simon Wilson. Logan was hurt in that encounter, and shortly after Beth and Dean were abducted.

  Trouble has a way of following us around, so I can’t control the pounding of my heart as I wonder what might come on the heels of this latest attack.

  It’s still thrumming violently when I step into the common room. Even the ruckus of noise doesn’t help calm my frayed nerves. It should. My family is here, my friends, people I consider blood.

  The panic in the room is evident as I move a little further inside and lock eyes with my sister-in-law, Beth, the closest person I have to a best friend. Her brows draw together as she takes me in, and she must see something in my face because she starts towards me.

  My adrenaline chooses that moment to flee and my legs give out. I sag against the wall next to the door, trying not to sink all the way down to the floor.

  “Get her a chair,” Beth orders as she pushes through the growing crowd. Chloe, Piper and Paige step aside as Jesse puts a chair in front of me. I’m pushed into the seat next to Sofia none too gently, but it’s a relief to finally get off my feet.

  “What happened? We heard… gunfire?” Beth sounds uncertain as she says it. She’s the one who would be mostly likely to recognise the sound, though, since she’s been shot at before.

  I nod. “It was.”

  I ignore the tremble in my hands as I sign this.

  “Fuck,” my little sister mutters, then presses closer to me.

  I pat Sofia’s arm, hoping this tells her I’m okay.

  The women crowd closer to each other, sharing worried looks. It’s Beth that my eyes are drawn to, though. It’s a subtle movement, but I don’t miss the way my sister-in-law’s hand goes to the swell of her stomach, where my niece or nephew is growing.

  She’s anxious—we all are—but she has good reason to be with a baby in her belly. My brother has been an overbearing nightmare since he found out Beth’s having his kid. Not that I blame him. Things are out of control. Never before have I felt any danger from being associated with the Lost Saxons—at least not until Simon Wilson appeared on the scene. Since then it’s all been downhill, with Tap and Dylan betraying the Club and now the Reapers trying to muscle in on the Saxons’ territory.

  “Darling!” Mum’s voice reaches me before she’s pushing past Sofia and Chloe, who are gathered around me. “Are you hurt?”

  I shake my head, and give her the words, because she looks like she needs them.

  “I’m fine, Mum.”

  She watches my hands before her gaze snaps to my face, clearly not assured.

  “Jem took care of me,” I add, hoping this will help.

  “Of course he did,” she murmurs, her faith in my brother unshakeable. “I wish Adam would get here, too.”

  I glance at my younger sister, letting the question dance across my expression, but she shrugs then signs to me, “He’s rounding up other family members, I think.” There’s no reason to sign—I can hear—but we often communicate like that when we want to speak without being heard.

  I can’t stop the shiver from crawling up my spine. I hate the idea of my little brother being out there, but I also know he can take care of himself. He’s as capable as Logan and Jem.

  “So, this is what war with the Reapers looks like?” Beth mutters.

  “I guess so,” Sofia concedes.

  I can’t help but think they’re both wrong and this is only the prelude to the main event.

  Chapter Two

  The police turn up a few minutes later. They come in full riot gear, armed officers exploding into the common room like ants swarming a nest.

  I gasp as a gun is pointed in my face before it swings in another direction. I may have grown up surrounded by bikers, but I’ve lived a sheltered life, thanks to my brothers. I’ve seen a gun before, but never one that size, and I’ve never had one shoved in my face.

  I grip my sister’s hand as the room fills with more armed police, sweat gathering at the nape of my neck. The Club is no stranger to dealing with the law, but they don’t usually invade the inner sanctum, although raids have happened in the past.

  The doors are shoved open and I glance towards them as Weed is dragged in by an officer. Chloe shifts near me as he’s pushed face first onto the floor and he makes a grunt of pain, the injuries from his beating no doubt flaring as he’s manhandled.

  It’s too much for Chloe to take. She comes to her feet, spitting out, “Don’t! He’s hurt!”

  Beth and Chloe’s little brother, Jesse, grabs her arm, stopping her from flying at the officer, who is glaring at Chloe like she’s shit under his shoe.

  “Didn’t know you let the bitches talk.” Laughter goes around the room at the officer’s crude attempt at humour.

  I slam my teeth together, trying to keep my own temper in check. Bitches? Seriously?

  “Watch your m
outh,” Weed grinds out from the floor. “That’s my old lady you’re insulting.”

  “Someone married you, Williams?”

  “Well, your mum was busy.”

  I wince. He just can’t help smarting off.

  Weed gets a kick to the ribs for his words, but his smile is smug even as he holds his chest, gasping a little for breath.

  Beth manages to get Chloe back into her seat, and I see Weed’s relief as he notices this. She pulls the younger woman against her and says something in her ear that I can’t hear, but Chloe seems to calm a little, although her eyes never leave Weed’s face.

  “I’m surprised this lot got here so fast,” Jamie murmurs. “You don’t usually see them for dust when anything is going down.”

  She’s not wrong. Kingsley Police Force are not exactly a team of crack detectives. They’re mostly middle-aged, lazy and corrupt.

  There’s a few who aren’t, like Holly’s friend, Nate James. Liv trusts him to help with things at the shelter she works at, but I wouldn’t trust him outside of that.

  And then there’s Detective Chief Inspector Alexander Morgan. He’s a transfer into the area, and he seems determined to bring down the Club. This means I’m not surprised when he steps into the room, his eyes appraising every inch like he owns the space.

  His gaze stops on Weed pressed to the floor and his lip curls into a snarl.

  “Let him up.”

  The officer reluctantly takes his foot off Weed’s back. Weed takes his time climbing to his feet, and makes a show of dusting off his jeans and kutte. I suspect he does this not just for effect, but also because his healing injuries won’t allow him to go faster.

  “That was some grade A police brutality right there,” Weed mutters as he straightens his kutte.

  Morgan doesn’t seem to care about this. He drops his hands to his hips, rucking the jacket of his suit up—a suit that looks tailor-made to fit. This is a contrast to his thatch of messy brown hair and the way his tie knot isn’t fully pushed up to the collar.

  “We had reports of gunshots.”

  I keep my face as impassive as I can manage, trying not to give anything away. I may not be a brother, but I know the rules. You don’t talk to the police—ever. I’d never betray my family by breaking that rule.

  Weed shrugs. “Nope, all quiet here.”

  Lies and spinning them is something we’re all adept at. I’d lie my heart out to protect my family. I don’t trust the police. They want to see my family brought low and while I have breath in my body, I’ll never let that happen. I may find my brothers’ interference in my life annoying, but I’m loyal to them without fault.

  “I’m not sure where you’re getting your info from,” Weed continues, “but you might want to find a new source.”

  Morgan twitches and I can see the irritation mounting in him. I watch his fists clench and unclench at his side.

  “Do you want to explain the broken headlamps on three bikes out the front?”

  Weed shifts his shoulders again. “Clumsy riders.”

  His brow lifts. “Are you suggesting that damage was caused by an accident?”

  Weed’s temper frays a little around the edges as he grinds out, “I’m not suggesting shit, but I can tell you right now there were no gunshots here.”

  Morgan doesn’t look convinced, his mouth curling down at the corners as he takes the room in, seeking more evidence of a crime.

  “What the fuck is the meaning of this?” Derek demands as he slams in through the common room doors.

  My stomach relaxes a little. Derek being here means things will calm down. The Club’s president is a good diplomat and adept at handling the police.

  Surprisingly, he isn’t a big man, but he has a big presence. His goatee is trimmed short and he tugs on it as he comes to a stop before Morgan, his eyes narrowing.

  “Do you want to explain?” he demands.

  Morgan doesn’t back down or show any fear. He just stares down at the man who is at least a head shorter than him.

  “Just following up on a report, Chambers,” Morgan says, as if he’s not standing in the lion’s den. Then again he has a slew of armed guards backing him up.

  I wonder who reported the shooting. The clubhouse isn’t off the beaten track, but it’s not exactly close to civilisation either. Nosey civilians.

  “Yeah, well, whatever your reports say unless you’ve got a warrant to be here you’d best get fucking gone before I get my solicitor down here. I’m sure he’d have a field day with this.”

  Morgan’s jaw clenches, and he huffs out a breath before he glances around once more. He signals to his men, rotating his finger in the air.

  The clatter of boots on the floor is loud as they clear out the room. Morgan walks slowly to Derek and steps into his space, his gaze hard.

  “I know shit is going down here, and whatever it is I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

  Derek meets his eyes, his mouth pulled into a tight line. Tension crackles between the two men like a live electric wire.

  “So you keep saying, but so far you haven’t uncovered shit. Maybe you should find someone else to piss off. We’re just a bike club, pal.”

  This is a lie. I may be naïve in a lot of ways, but I’m more than clued up on the fact the Club’s bread and butter is earned through drug running.

  Morgan clearly knows this too, even if he can’t prove it. He grits his teeth and mutters an insincere, “Sorry for the intrusion.”

  Derek snorts. “You might want to fight real crime, instead of making things up to harass law abiding citizens.”

  Law abiding is pushing it. Morgan agrees because his brow twitches and his mouth draws into a line.

  “I’ll be seeing you soon, Mr Chambers.”

  There’s a hint of malice and a whole lot of threat in his words that Derek either ignores or doesn’t care enough to register.

  As soon as Morgan clears the room, Derek moves over to Weed and they start talking. I can’t hear what they’re saying from here, and I doubt I’d want to.

  The less you know…

  “Well, that was intense,” Beth mutters, watching as Chloe slowly approaches her man.

  Weed notices her immediately and gestures for her to come to him, which she does. He then engulfs her in his arms in a way that has my stomach panging. Yeah, I’d give my right arm to have the kind of love my brothers, Weed and Wade have with their old ladies… minus the biker. I do not need that level of bossy in my life.

  “You okay?” Sofia asks me, clinging to my hand.

  I nod and hide my shaky hands by putting them under my thighs and sitting on them. My whole body feels like it’s trembling.

  Some of my concern is doused as Logan steps into the room a moment later with Jem on his heels. Both my brothers look unharmed, although neither man looks happy. Jem’s mouth is pulled into a tight line and Logan’s eyes are narrowed, his jaw locked solid.

  A look passes between Jem and Piper. I see the ripple of concern followed by the hungry look that makes me shudder. Then he inclines his head before he moves over to Derek, but Logan’s gaze seeks Beth out like a heat seeking missile. He ignores everything going on around him but her. His eyes track her even as he moves towards her. Then as soon as he’s close enough, he pulls her into his arms, his fingers tangling in her hair.

  “Are you okay?” he asks her, his voice soft, filled with anguish at the thought she might not be.

  Beth nods. “I’m fine.”

  I don’t miss how my brother’s hand moves to her stomach, nor do I miss the way he closes his eyes as if the weight of the world has just lifted off his shoulders. He kisses her gently, his hands moving from her belly to cup her face, then his eyes go over her head to me and Sofia.

  “You girls okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re peachy. Nothing like having guns waved in your face to really wake you up,” Sofia grumbles.

  Logan’s jaw tenses, and before he can lose his shit, I sign, “We’re fine, Lo.�
�

  He studies me for a moment, trying to ascertain the truth in my words. Then he nods and returns his attention back to his wife.

  “We’re all fine,” Beth assures him. “Go and do whatever you need to.”

  His eyes travel over her face before he presses his lips to hers. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  He raises his head to take in the rest of the table and narrows his eyes. “No one leaves the clubhouse until we get this shit sorted.”

  Jamie groans, flopping back into her chair dramatically. “Really? You guys are putting a serious dampener on my social life. I hope you know that.”

  “You can’t have a social life if you’re dead,” Logan tells her, earning a groan from Beth. She buries her head in his chest, holding the edge of his kutte in her fingers.

  “Tact, honey. Let’s work on that, okay?”

  “I don’t have time for tact right now. My job is to keep everyone safe, so no one leaves until I say.”

  He gives Beth a final glance and then as if it physically pains him to do it, he tears himself away and strides over to Derek.

  “Your man really needs to work on his people skills,” Jamie complains.

  “Lo has a tough job, J. He has to make sure we all stay breathing. Don’t give him shit.”

  It makes me feel warm hearing Beth stick up for my brother—even if I don’t like the fact we have to stay here.

  “If we’re going to be stuck here,” Piper says, “maybe we should find something useful to do.”

  “Fuck that. Let’s just open the bar up,” Jamie fires back from her slouched position.

  “Getting drunk is always your answer.” Paige rolls her eyes at her. “Do you have any plans that don’t start and end with booze?”

  “Girl, all the best plans start and end with booze.”

  “Church, now!”

  We all glance up at Derek’s hollered instruction. It’s not meant for us, but the men of the Club who file out of the room. Weed glances back at Chloe, saying so much in that look, before disappearing through the doors.