Colt: Devil's Nightmare MC: Book 10
Page 17
“And there goes yours,” I tell Ace and Rook, who both grumble agreement. I bet they had eyes on him since we got here. He’s getting up there in years, but his wife is young and pretty and he was all over her all night. His hand is cupping her ass now as they make their way towards their house. It could be a while before they’re asleep, though he’s gotta be over fifty, so that’s not a given at all.
The guy me and Blaze are supposed to take down is in his early forties and he’s had a different club girl wrapped around him each time I caught a glimpse at him. Now he’s got two kissing and dancing for him just outside the bar.
Sweat is running down my face and back, so much of it, my shirt is nearly soaked. It’s a hot night tonight, no wind to speak of, and even the breeze that rises every so often is warm.
Our guy is one of the last to leave the bar, a girl on each arm, as he leans on one and then the other on the way to a small apartment above what was some sort of office space or store back in the day. It’s right at the end of Main Street and the last structure on the side of town that’s right below the hill that leads to the big house. The downstairs windows are boarded up, but the upstairs ones are open and brightly lit. At least we’ll be able to hear exactly when he finally goes to sleep. How we’re gonna pull him from under those two club girls is another matter altogether.
We wait for a solid hour after the whole town goes dark and silent. Even club whores the guy me and Blaze are taking out brought home eventually stopped moaning and screeching.
“It’s time?” I ask Rook, who nods.
“Let’s make this quick and silent. No talking, only hand signs from this point on,” Rook says. “You know what to do and where to meet. And, Colt, if you see something that’s not supposed to be there, don’t be shy about letting us know.”
“I won’t,” I assure him.
“Good luck!” Rook says and starts making his way down, Ace right behind him.
The rest of us follow in pairs. The wind has finally picked up, cold and fresh and all the hissing and whistling is masking our descent very well. My nervousness is just a memory now and a ball of something heavy in the pit of my stomach that’s not so hard to ignore now that we’re doing this. Worrying has no place now in my head. The only way I get back from this is by doing my best.
By the time Blaze and I reach cover among the first row of houses, the rest are nowhere to be seen. The wind is whistling around us, gusting through the open spaces between the houses, raising dust and debris, most of which is hitting my face. I’m hardly breathing as we sneak towards our target house. A shutter banging against the window and shattering glass breaks the silence over our heads. We plaster ourselves to the wall of the house we’re walking by and wait. A curse turns into a full-on argument between the husband and wife in that house.
Great, just what we need.
And I think that before the occupants of at least three houses start shouting for them to shut the fuck up. But luckily everyone seems to be too drunk and tired to do much before morning, and soon, the only sound is once again the whistling of the wind.
We’re almost at the house we’re targeting, and I don’t know how we’re gonna pull it off with those two club girls right there.
We enter the house via the back, which is where the man always enters too. The door is open, either due to a strong gust of wind or the guy’s carelessness. I’m not complaining, it’s a downright stroke of luck. We walk in and stop in an alcove formed by the wooden stairs that lead to the top of the house. The guy upstairs is snoring so loud it sounds like a chain saw going off. That should be enough to mask our coming, and if the women can sleep through this racket, there’s little chance they’ll wake up once we get there to do our thing.
I gesture to Blaze that we should just tie up the women, knock the guy out and carry him out. None of the other brothers would understand what I’m trying to convey, but Blaze gets it perfectly. It’s good we know each other so well.
I’m just about to make my way up the stairs when giggling female voices and the creak of old wooden floorboards stops me dead in my tracks. I make way too much noise getting back into the darkness of our hiding spot right before the first bare woman’s foot lands on the stairs. They’re trying to be quiet and stealthy, but they’re wobbly and giggly and make so much noise getting down the stairs I’m sure they’ll wake the guy upstairs any second now. Then with my luck, he’ll want another round, and me and Blaze will have front row seats to his groans and their screeches for God knows how long. But the chain saw sounds of his snoring follow the two giggling women down the stairs.
“I’ve never met a guy who snores that loud,” one of them whispers as they’re putting their shoes on at the foot of the stairs.
“I have,” the other one says. “Come on, let’s get out of here before he wakes up. I have no need to see his tiny cock again tonight.”
They both giggle again and make so much noise finding the door in the dark than it drowns out even the snoring.
But once they’re gone, the chainsaw is still whirring loudly.
I couldn’t have wished for a better outcome. My luck must be turning.
We wait for a good half an hour before going upstairs.
The guy is lying in the middle of the queen-sized bed, buck naked and so bulky he takes up most of the space. Me and Blaze look at each other and no gesturing is necessary to convey that knocking him out first and then dressing him is out of the question. He’ll have to do all that himself. And maybe walk out by himself too, since he’s gotta weigh at least three hundred pounds.
I try not to look at his cock to see if it really is as tiny as the club girl claimed as Blaze and I take our positions to either side of him.
I press my knife to his throat and nod to Blaze that I’m ready for him to wake him up before I clamp my free hand around his mouth and nose.
Blaze has to shake him three times before the guy’s eyes finally open. I can see the exact moment when he realizes he’s not dreaming.
Blaze tosses a pair of jeans onto his bulging stomach.
“Put those on and don’t make a sound, or I’ll stick this knife straight through your neck,” I tell him.
He just looks at me, surprise turning to rage in his eyes. I have to prick him with the tip of the knife to get him to do as we told him.
Blaze uses the time while the man is sitting up, and trying to avoid my knife as he clumsily pulls on his jeans, to gag him with a bandana. As soon as the guy is standing and his jeans are up, he finishes the job by tying his hands behind him with a zip tie.
“Now you’re gonna walk out of here with us nice and easy,” I say. “And above all, very quietly. You try to run and I kill you, it’s that simple. My boss wants you alive, but he’ll settle for dead. But if you play along, then you’ll be set free. We just want some information is all.”
I kinda see the exact moment when the man gets over his rage and starts listening. Given the choice between life and death, it’s a rare man that will choose death.
“And don’t think you can outrun us either,” I say and I nudge him to start walking out of the room. “Like I said, you play nice and you’ll be fucking in here again tomorrow night. Try to run and you’ll die alone in the dust.”
Over the top maybe, but at least my talking got him walking and we’re in the windy street now.
The closest exit from the town is across the field separating this house from the hill on which the big house stands and then to the left into the shrubbery and rocks and darkness of the foot of yet another hill. I’m pretty sure the guy has no stamina whatsoever and am proven right when he starts panting past his gag before we’re even across the field. He’s louder than the whistling wind.
I signal Blaze that we should pick him up and we do, then proceed to carry him across the field and up the hill. We’re the ones panting by the time we finally crest the hill and lay him down behind a good-sized pile of rocks, well out of sight of the still dark and silent town behind u
s.
It’s done. And it went without a hitch. My luck most certainly has turned, and I credit Brenda and only Brenda for that. She makes me feel like I can do anything. Not just feel like, I can do anything as long as she’s the prize waiting for me to get back to her.
The sun is already rising by the time we pull up to the side of the bunker with our charges. The coolness of night is evaporating, giving way to what will be another scorching day. But the thought barely crosses my mind and certainly doesn’t annoy me. In an hour, two at most, I’ll be in Brenda’s bed. We’ll have at least a couple of days together now that the job is almost done, maybe more.
Mac winces as he climbs down from the truck back of our truck. He’s cradling his left arm with his right across his stomach, looking as pale grey as the concrete walls of the bunker. His and Eagle’s target put up the fiercest fight and at one point managed to get Mac’s knife away from him and drive it into his forearm before Eagle subdued him. Rook bandaged it up as best he could, but that thing’s gonna need stitches and he already lost a lot of blood.
“Go see Doc right now,” Rook tells him, and Mac doesn’t need telling twice. He’s leaning heavily on Eagle as the young man leads him away. He doesn’t look as cocky and pissed off as he’s been the last couple of days, the concern on his face making him look very young.
The van with the prisoners, driven by Cross, pulls up, kicking up a cloud of dust that doubles as the other truck comes to a stop beside it.
Several brothers, including Ink and Joe, are already coming towards us, ready to unload the prisoners.
“Put them in the cells,” Cross tells them. “And someone go wake Scar, I want to speak to him right away.”
I clear my throat as he passes me on the way into the bunker. His skin is ashen in the early morning light, but his eyes are alert and piercing as ever. “I…ummm…can I…,” I stammer, feeling like a shy teenager.
“Everyone stays here for now,” Cross says, his black gaze barely glancing off me, but making me stand at attention despite it.
I nod, but he doesn’t see it, because he’s already striding off towards the bunker.
Tank slaps me on the back, chuckling. “If she’s waited this long, what’s another couple of days, am I right?”
He laughs at what must be an expression of abject horror on my face. Days?
He gives me another hard slap on the back. “Or it could be hours, who knows? So relax, get some food. You did good.”
Pride at being praised by the vice president is warring with regret that I can’t leave to be with Brenda right away, neither winning. So I have absolutely no time for whatever annoying thing Blaze wants to accuse me of, going from his blazing eyes fixed on me. I turn and follow Tank into the bunker. A couple of hours of sleep sounds about right just now. And who knows, maybe I’ll dream of Brenda. Or better yet, be able to go see her as soon as I wake up.
22
Colt
At sunset, I’m crouching by the wall of the bunker, smoking, watching the sky erupting in an angry orange so much like fire it’s hard to tell the difference. The heat certainly adds to the illusion. As does my impatience. I’ve called Brenda three times since waking up a couple of hours ago, even left a message for her to call me back with the receptionist lady who answered the phone each time, but so far, my phone has stayed silent.
I don’t know what to make of that and I don’t want to think too hard about it, but it’s hard focusing on anything else. What if she did leave like she said she would? What if this was my last test, and I failed it because I didn’t come to see her sooner?
Useless fucking questions, but they’re crowding my mind and not letting anything else in. Maybe it’s for the best that she left. It would’ve soured, like every other relationship had, then fade into forgetting. I don’t want that with Brenda, so maybe it’s best if we call it quits while we’re at the top. The memories will be so much better that way. If only there was any hope that I’ll ever not want to keep making new memories with her. There’s very little hope of that.
I heard boots crunching against the gravel and stone, growing louder. I bet it’s Blaze come to offer advice I don’t need, so I don’t even look.
“They’re singing like canaries in there,” Ace says, startling me. I stand up too fast, then spend the next few moments thinking I’ll pass out. “I bet we’ll be out of here by tomorrow.”
“That’s nice,” I say, trying hard to ignore the blackness closing in from the sides of my vision.
“Then I was thinking we could all ride up to Vegas together, you and Brenda, and Blaze if he wants to,” Ace says. “I bet Brenda wants to finally go home, and I know Stormi is dying to see her.”
“By tomorrow night? She’d be ecstatic about it, actually,” I say.
“It’s a guess, it could take a couple more days, but to be honest, I doubt it,” Ace says. “Cross is as eager to get us out of here as the rest of us are.”
“What’s his plan for the Sinners?” I ask.
Ace shrugs. “Who knows? But he’ll tell us when he’s good and ready, just like always.”
I nod and we smoke for a while, talking about this and that and nothing of importance.
After Ace leaves to go back inside, I call Brenda again and again and get no reply at all. At least they’re putting the calls through to her room, meaning she’s still there. Just not answering my calls. Punishing me? But by the time the moon’s high in the sky and it’s past midnight, I’m almost ready to ride out and see what the fuck is happening. I want her so bad my whole body is tense to the point of pain, and nothing but her soft touch and wicked good kisses will make it better.
It’s a good thing I have Blaze to talk me out of it. Or is that because I’ve grown up some in how I view responsibility and duty these last couple of days? Either way, I spend the night tossing and turning and willing my phone to ring like a goddamn teenage girl.
It’s very early in the morning and I’m very groggy as I make my way to the conference room where me and Blaze have been summoned by a very bleary-eyed Eagle.
“How’s Mac doing?” Blaze asks him as we walk.
Eagle shrugs. “Pretty good. He was lucky that the knife didn’t do any permanent damage, but he should’ve been more fucking careful. Doc stitched him up, and he’s sleeping it off now.”
He’s clearly back to his cocky, arrogant self, so I personally have no more need to talk to him.
Cross, Tank, Ice, and Ink are already in the conference room, and Ace and Rook arrive just as we do.
“Close the door,” Cross tells me since I’m closest to it.
“All right, so the prisoners all told pretty much the same story, and I have no reason to doubt what they’re saying,” Cross says. “Snake’s been against Griff talking to the feds, as have most of the still-living members. He’s also always wanted to lead the MC, a tale corroborated by the other three. None of them knew why the cops were moving against them the first night we attacked, but Snake speculates it was because Griff had gone silent on them. It would make sense.”
Ice and Ace are nodding along, but Tank doesn’t seem entirely convinced.
“What do you propose we do with them?” he asks as Cross pauses. “Do we just believe them and send them in their merry way?”
“More or less,” Cross says. “We’re transporting them back in a couple of hours and giving them until dawn to clear out of town. The Knights will make sure they never come back. If they do, we kill them all. That should keep your uncle happy, right, Ink?”
Ink shrugs. “My uncle’s never happy. But yeah, with Griff and his sons gone, I doubt he’s gonna press too hard for the rest of them to be killed.”
“He can do as he likes once we’re gone,” Cross says. “We’re gonna make sure the town is empty and they’re well on their way to wherever they want to go and then we’re done with this job. Are you satisfied with that, Tank?”
Tank shrugs. “I trust your judgment. You haven’t led us wrong yet.”<
br />
It’s impossible to tell if Tank’s being sincere or sarcastic, and I personally think it’s a little of both.
“Colt and Blaze, I want you in the hills overseeing the leaving,” Cross says. “Ace and Eagle, you too. Best leave now before too many of them wake up.”
We file out into the pitch darkness outside, dawn not even a hint yet. I could’ve sworn it was later, but this is better. The sooner this is done, the sooner I get to find out why Brenda’s not calling me back. That question echoing in my mind is colder than the night we ride through to tie up this job that’s given me everything but is now threatening to take it all away too.
Brenda
I swim up from the darkness, from muddy, murky waters so thick my lungs will explode if I don’t get a breath of fresh air soon. But the only thing that explodes is white-hot pain as I open my eyes and light pierces my head like two very sharp and hot knives. Long, too.
I now distinctly remember at least three such attempts to open my eyes and breathe. Each time I closed them again and sunk back to the murky, suffocating waters. This time I have a little more awareness. I keep my eyes, but I don’t drown again. I can hear the moaning of someone in a lot of pain, and a good few moments pass before I connect the sound with my own mouth, or more like chest because that’s where it’s coming from.
A door opens, a waft of hotter air entering the cool room I’m in. I’d rather not hear the loud thuds of boots on floorboards, growing louder as their owner approaches. But I recognize the sound and even the gait of the man coming towards the bed I’m lying in—the bed I used to share with him.
“Good, you’re awake, princess,” Monarch says, the bed tilting downwards on the right, making me nauseous.
I keep my eyes closed and try not to moan. Maybe he’ll figure out he’s wrong and leave again.
“Come on, open your eyes,” he coaxes. “We need to talk.”
“The light,” I croak, not immediately recognizing my voice as my own. He’s not leaving and the last thing I need is him shaking me awake. I kinda, sorta remember him trying that before now too.