by Aiden Bates
I parked my bike next to them and walked inside. The few patrons inside glanced at me, but no one made any moves. I checked my phone—I was right on time. This was the right location. My informant should’ve been here by now.
I got a beer and sat near the door.
Nursing my drink patiently, I started to get nervous. The bar itself was bizarrely quiet—the jukebox in the corner appeared to be broken, and the patrons inside were more concerned with their drinks than anything else. The bartender, a middle-aged woman with deep lines in her face, was engrossed in the muted horror movie on the ancient television.
Then, a man walked into the bar. Tall, unremarkable, and sallow-skinned, and I knew he was a Viper from the dramatic patch on the front of his jacket. He glanced around the bar until his gaze landed on me. He suppressed a smirk.
“You waiting on someone?”
I didn’t see any obvious weapons on him, but something still felt… off.
“Think so,” I said. “You?”
“Think so,” he parroted. “Grab a smoke?” He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and waved me towards the back door.
Going against my gut instinct, I followed him.
The parking lot behind the building was empty, save for two bikes and two other patch-wearing Viper’s Nest members.
“You know,” the first one said as he lit a cigarette. “We were hoping to find whoever was feeding you information.”
He stood in front of the back door. His two lackeys stepped closer, effectively trapping me.
Fuck. Fear rose like bile in my throat. This wasn’t my informant… This was someone looking for the informant. I had to get out of here, and fast.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“We Vipers are a pretty tight-knit group,” he said. “We don’t take kindly to members leaking our personal business. Especially not to the Hell’s Ankhor whiz kid. So” —he took a long inhale of smoke, and then exhaled it into my face— “we planned on handling this internally. But since you showed, all by your lonesome, and your source didn’t, we’ll have to send that message another way.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I reached for the pocketknife I kept tucked in my back pocket, but the Viper behind me kicked me in the back of the knees hard, and I buckled onto the gravel.
“Don’t even think about it.” The Viper grabbed my chin roughly and turned my face towards him. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, kid.”
He jerked my head roughly to the side. With a cold smirk on his face he pressed the lit butt of the cigarette to the skin of my neck.
Pain coursed through me. I bit into my lip hard, holding back any sounds—I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. I could barely process the awful hiss and stomach-turning smell of my own burning skin.
“Don’t go sniffing into our business,” the Viper said. “Ever again.”
He withdrew the cigarette, and I sucked in a few desperate, heaving breaths. “What’d you sickos do to my father?”
“Your father?” The Viper looked over my head at his two companions. “He’s already lost it, boys. Talking nonsense.”
“Don’t fucking play dumb.” I spit a wad of blood at his feet from the gash I’d opened in my lower lip. “I know you fuckers are behind it.”
“You really think you should be making demands right now?” The Viper flicked his cigarette into the gravel. He released his grip on my chin and jerked my face up by my hair instead. “When you’re the one on your knees?”
“All fucking talk,” I said. “Can’t even own up to your own schemes. Cowards.”
“All right,” the Viper said. “Enough with your smart fucking mouth. I’ve got a message for your little buddy feeding you information: You tell them we know about them. We’re going to find out who they are. And they’re fucking dead for what they’ve done.”
“You’re bluffing.”
He backhanded me hard across the face, and a bright flash of pain exploded in my head. My ears rang and blood filled my mouth.
The Vipers were laughing, but the sound was distant, as if it were miles away.
I lurched forward hard and headbutted my forehead into the lead Viper’s groin. He groaned in pain, doubling over slightly, enough that all I had to do was shove myself upward in order to slam the top of my head into the Viper’s chin. A few teeth in his mouth broke with a sick clacking sound. I scrambled to my feet.
Blood poured from the Viper’s mouth. “You’re fucking dead now.” His eyes cut to the two Vipers behind me, standing stunned. “Don’t just fucking stand there.”
I caught one of the Vipers behind me with an elbow to the face, and the other with a hard kick to the shin. They both wailed, but I couldn’t keep them both off me—one of them managed to get my arms trapped behind my back. I kicked my heel hard into his shin, and he hissed, but didn’t let go.
The lead Viper wiped the blood from his chin. “Not so tough now, huh?”
He threw two sharp punches into my gut. I gasped and tried to double over, but the Viper behind me kept me standing. The pain was dull, throbbing, and my breaths came short, like my lungs were in shock.
Two more punches. One, two.
Maybe I’d puke on his shoes.
The lead Viper was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it over my own pulse pounding in my ears.
“Hey!” A woman’s voice cut through. The bartender was standing in the back doorway, looking furiously at the Viper.
“I told you a hundred times, no fights on my property!” She frowned. “But this ain’t much of a fight, is it? Three-on-one?”
“This ain’t your business, Lyn.”
“As long as you want to bring your people around my bar, it is! No fucking fights, that’s the agreement!”
The Vipers released me. Laughing and catcalling me, they shoved past the bartender and back into the bar. I collapsed into the gravel, breathing heavily. The pinprick stars in the sky seemed to rotate and spin.
“Go home, kid,” the bartender said. “And best not come back.”
I was in no shape to ride my bike—dizzy, hurting, and potentially concussed. But what choice did I have? Pass out behind the Hideaway and get gutted by the Vipers at closing time? Or get as far away as I could while I was still conscious?
I didn’t make it far. Just a few miles south, my vision went spotty. I pulled off onto a scenic overlook, parked my bike halfway-hidden behind a bush, and sat down on the curb.
If the Vipers followed me and found me here, it was over. No kindly bartender to save me now.
I fished my phone from my pocket. I needed help. Needed someone to pick me up. My entire body throbbed and ached. Even in the cold night air with the freezing ground beneath me, I wouldn’t be able to stay conscious. And sleep sounded really fucking good right now.
So I called Gunnar. He was the sergeant. He’d come and get me. It was his job.
Hot tears stung my eyes. I knew I didn’t just want the sergeant to help me—I wanted Gunnar here. I wanted his arms around me. I wanted to hear his low voice and feel it vibrate in his chest when he held me.
I didn’t want to be alone.
“Raven? It’s the middle of the night! What the fuck is going on? Where have you been?”
My breath caught, and I began to cry freely then, choking on it. How could I explain what had happened? How huge of a mistake I’d made? How he’d been right about my naivete?
I couldn’t. I tried to say his name, but it stuck in my throat. The dizziness worsened.
I pulled my phone away from my ear. Thank fucking God I had GPS out here. I sent Gunnar my location, and then let myself fall back onto the curb and slip into a cold, miserable sleep.
9
Gunnar
I sat at the far end of the bar in Ballast with a few fingers of Jack in a glass in front of me. Since Ballast was the club-owned bar, it was typically where we all ended up at the end of the day. I wasn’t here to socialize tonight, though. I’d made that clear w
ithout needing to say a word, and the other Hell’s Ankhor members had steered clear of me. I was only here because I knew if I was alone, I’d get so wrapped up in my head that I’d pace through the floor or punch a hole in the wall. I’d thought a drink would take the edge off, but the whiskey had done nothing to numb the anger coursing through me.
I wasn’t angry at Raven. I couldn’t blame him for reacting the way he did. He was right—it was fucking narcissistic of me to think that whatever was going on with him was somehow related to me. We didn’t have anything between us. I’d pushed him too far away, and he didn’t owe me any friendship, especially not when I’d treated him the way I had out of some misguided attempt to reset the boundaries between us. It was probably for the best, since I could never really be with him, not the way either of us might want—or might have wanted, at some point. It’d be easier for both of us if we just stayed away from each other.
That thought nearly cleaved me in two, though.
I couldn’t imagine a life without Raven in it. Even the relationship we’d had before all this had been better than no relationship at all. I needed him in some capacity, even if he was just on the periphery of my life: his quiet, breathy laugh, his biting sarcasm, his untamed hair. Even just coming downstairs in the morning and seeing him already posted up at the island on his third cup of coffee, fingers already flying across the keyboard of his laptop, not even lifting his gaze to grunt a hello.
Even that was better than nothing.
My phone rang in my pocket. I pulled it from my jacket, intending to shut it off so whoever the fuck was calling would leave me alone.
But it was Raven’s name on the caller ID. After he’d found me snooping, and then stormed out of the clubhouse without looking back, I’d expected that I wouldn’t hear from him for ages. That I’d be relegated to getting updates from Priest, if I was to get any updates at all.
I picked up immediately. “Raven? It’s the middle of the night!”
He didn’t answer. His ragged breathing echoed on the other end of the line.
“What the fuck is going on? Where have you been?” I asked. Terror cut through me, ice-cold.
Raven’s breath stuttered. Like he was crying. “Gunnar,” he choked.
I stood up so quickly my chair behind me clattered to the floor. I caught Blade’s eye. He rushed over, and Priest, Coop, and Logan followed on his heels.
“What is it?” Blade asked.
“It’s Raven,” I said.
Priest pursed his lips and furrowed his brow deeply. “Where is he? Is he okay?”
“Where are you?” I asked again.
Raven didn’t answer. His breathing was fast and shallow, like he was hurting.
“You gotta talk to me, baby.” I closed my eyes like if I listened hard enough, I could deduce where he was. “I’ll come get you. It’s all gonna be okay. You just gotta tell me where you are, okay?”
Raven murmured something, but I couldn’t make out the words. His voice sounded far away.
“You’re gonna be fine. Come on, Raven, stay with me. I’m coming, okay?”
My phone beeped in my ear, and then the line went dead.
“Fuck!” I slammed my phone on the table.
Blade already had his club leather on and his bike helmet under his arm. “Where are we going?”
At his side, Priest was ready to ride as well, and Coop was gathering the rest of the enforcers.
“He didn’t say.” I clenched my fist hard. “He sounded bad. Sounded hurt. We have to find him.”
“Give me that.” Logan grabbed my phone off the table and opened my texts. “Raven’s not stupid. There.”
He turned the phone toward me, and in the empty text thread was a pair of coordinates, imported from Raven’s phone’s GPS. Logan shook his head in a strange mix of worry and admiration. “He couldn’t talk to us, so he had his phone talk for him.”
I grabbed Logan roughly by the shoulder and squeezed. “Thanks.”
Logan nodded. “I’ll get my medical bag. Let’s go.”
We headed north. Blade led the group on his bike, riding fast with Priest riding at his side, and the enforcers following. Tex, Maverick, and Coop rode their bikes. I brought up the rear in a cage: an SUV with a comfortable backseat. Logan sat shotgun with his medical bag at his feet, and Siren rode in the backseat, anxiously fiddling with a pocketknife.
Whatever condition he was in, Raven wouldn’t be on his bike. He’d be in the backseat, and Siren would ride his bike home.
I drove with one hand on the steering wheel, and the other at my mouth, my knuckles worrying against my lips.
“Gunnar.” Logan fixed me with a steady look. “He’s gonna be okay.”
“He’s a smart kid,” Siren said.
“Is he? He’s almost two hours away. He couldn’t even speak on the phone!” I smacked the steering wheel hard. “I never should’ve let him leave. I shouldn’t have let him get into whatever this is by himself.”
“You couldn’t have stopped him,” Logan said. “No one could’ve. He’s bullheaded—like you.”
“But it’s my fucking job,” I said. “It’s my fucking job to protect him.”
“He called you, didn’t he?”
I blinked away the tears suddenly blurring my vision and refocused on the bikes in front of me. He had called me—not Priest, not Logan, not Blade. Even after our fight. Was it just because I was the sergeant-at-arms?
Or was it something else?
According to the location he’d sent my phone, he was in the middle of nowhere, pulled off the side of some rarely used highway. Lying alone in the dark and the cold. He’d barely been able to form words on the phone—his voice had come in gasps. I’d heard him sob weakly.
It was like a terrible dream.
When I had heard his voice on the phone, a very simple truth had been revealed to me, something that overshadowed all the details that seemed so insignificant now: I would walk through fire for Raven. I would find whoever did this and I would destroy them.
As sergeant-at-arms of the club, I was willing to do whatever it took to ensure the safety of its members and its territory. But this was different. This wasn’t the determination I felt as sergeant, and it wasn’t the blind loyalty I’d prescribed to in the military. It was rage. Rage and a brutal thirst for justice. No one who was capable of hurting someone like Raven deserved to walk this earth.
The depth of this feeling—I couldn’t put a name to it, I wouldn’t—really fucking scared me. It was more than infatuation or lust. And I was even more terrified that Raven would find out. But one thing I knew for sure, things couldn’t stay the same as they were.
His well-being came first, always. We’d get through this. I’d find him, and then I’d find whoever did this. And then—and then it was a mystery. But even if he wanted to never talk to me again, I’d be fine, as long as he was okay.
“Here’s the turn-off,” Siren said.
I followed the bikes onto the scenic overlook. In the darkness the view was gorgeous, all silhouetted mountains and the speckled headlights of cars driving through the valley below. I didn’t look at it at all. I threw the SUV into park and jumped out, jogging to the dark shape of Raven’s bike, which was haphazardly parked near a bush. Like he’d wanted to hide it. Even when he was about to pass out, he was thinking two steps ahead.
A narrow sidewalk was paved in front of the short wall that protected overlook viewers from the drop-off. Raven was lying on his back on the sidewalk, his legs in the road like he’d been sitting on the curb before he passed out.
I crouched by his side. He was breathing, thank God. I brushed the hair from his forehead; his skin was cool from the chill outside, and an enormous bruise was forming on the side of his face.
“Raven,” I said. “Raven, wake up. We gotta get up.”
His dark blue eyes blinked open wearily, and his chapped lips parted, caked with drying blood. “You came.”
“Course I did.” I placed a han
d gingerly on his face. “You thought I wouldn’t?”
He closed his eyes again. “S’cold.”
“Don’t go back to sleep. Can you get up?”
“Nope,” Logan said. “Don’t move, Raven. We’ll carry you.”
Logan gave me a look and I reluctantly stepped back, giving Logan space to drop his medical bag next to Raven. Without any hesitation, Logan snapped immediately into nurse-mode. “Blade, make sure the area’s secure, will you? Don’t want to get surprised by anyone.”
Blade nodded. Even in the midst of a terrible situation, seeing Logan jump into action always made Blade’s eyes warm with pride and love. “Got it. You’re with me, Tex.”
Logan nodded. “Siren, make sure his bike’s okay. Gunnar, Coop, Priest—help me move him.”
Priest’s face was twisted with grief as he approached. With the four of us working on Logan’s count, we lifted Raven gingerly and slid him into the backseat of the SUV. After the all-clear from Blade and Siren, we drove back toward Elkin Lake. Logan rode in the backseat with Raven, and I heard them murmuring as I chewed up the miles as fast as I could.
10
Raven
I was dragged back into consciousness like someone had pulled me from deep underwater. My body hurt—a pounding ache concentrated in my gut, a brutal throb that prevented me from taking any deep breaths. My head pounded, too, like my heartbeat itself was an instrument of torture. But it was warm inside, and the couch beneath me was soft, at least.
“Raven? Can you hear me?”
I blinked my eyes open reluctantly. God, it was too fucking bright. The light sent a sharp bolt of pain through my head alongside the standard ache.
“Hey,” the voice said. The person connected to the voice waved at somebody, and the overhead lights dimmed. I relaxed minutely.
“Can you hear me?” It was Logan’s voice, I finally realized. “You awake?”
I nodded.
“Can you tell me your name?” he asked.
