by Aiden Bates
The only thing worse than that, though, would be making that choice for him and not letting him come at all. I’d made that mistake too many times in the past to make it again. I had to trust him, no matter how much I’d rather just protect him from the entire world.
Dismissed, the club members filtered out of the cabin. I turned to grab my leather from where I’d tossed it carelessly against the folding chairs leaning against the wall. The space was bare of other furnishings, but it’d serve our purposes. A chair in the middle of the room was all I needed to make Bane sing.
I pulled my jacket on then turned to leave. The cabin was empty, save for Raven, leaning against the doorframe with his ankles crossed: a calculated imitation of casualness. “Everything good to go?”
“Course it is,” I said. “I planned it.”
His frown only deepened, but he directed it at his feet. Was he already having second thoughts? Well, it wasn’t too late for him to cut out—I’d make sure that happened if he needed to.
I stepped closer. With two fingers, I touched his chin and tipped his face up towards mine. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” The anxiety radiating off him was not assuaged. “I just…” He pressed his lips together. “Just watch yourself during this part, okay?”
His anxiety wasn’t about the action itself—it was for me. He was worried I’d get hurt during the takedown. Warmth flooded me, and I couldn’t resist gripping the collar of his leather jacket and pulling him in for a kiss. Only weeks ago he’d been cursing me out, avoiding me, punching me in the face. And now, due to some insane stroke of luck I certainly wasn’t worthy of, he was pressed against me, worrying about my safety in a job I’d done for nearly two decades.
“Don’t worry about me.” I cradled his face in my hands. “It’s gonna go fine, and it’s gonna be over quickly. You’ll get to see the master at work.”
“Oh, the master?” Raven bit back a smile. “Master of what, staring at people threateningly?”
“In fact, that’s exactly what I’m the master of.” I kissed him again, a quick promise for later. “Let’s do this. It’ll be over before you know it.”
That only seemed to ratchet Raven’s anxiety up again. He turned to walk out the door and I took the opportunity to slip my hand into his back pocket and squeeze his ass. “You better watch your ass, too.”
Raven squawked and swatted at me, but it seemed to have lifted his mood again, so I counted it as a victory.
Outside the cabin, the rest of the road crew was waiting, engines idling. Blade nodded at me, and I took my place in the lineup at his right.
We covered the distance between the cabin and the brothel and moved into our positions as Blade had instructed.
Darlin’s was a squat cinderblock building in the middle of a scrubby patch of land just off the highway. Its immense neon sign advertised all the things a patron could obtain in the facility: SLOTS, FULL SERVICE BAR, GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS. Behind the main building, tiny square cabin-like structures stood in rows as if the bar was a campground.
“Private rooms,” Blade said, motioning at the buildings.
“Bet it cuts down on hearing the guy in the room over,” Coop said with a grimace.
I had a bad feeling about this place. I’d seen my fair share of brothels and bars in Nevada and LA alike, but this one was a little rundown, a little grimy, a little quiet. And any place frequented by Vipers likely had a sour history.
My phone lit up, and I skimmed Siren’s message. “All clear at the front door. She says he’s still inside.”
“Time?”
“Just before three,” I said.
“We’ll give him until three-thirty, and then we’ll send in Siren,” Blade said.
Time passed painfully slowly in the dull expanse of desert. The brothel was well-lit inside and silent outside.
Moments before I was about to contact Siren, the back door opened. Bane staggered onto the back patio, hanging onto a slim woman who looked cold as soon as she stepped into the night.
I was a good enforcer, and a better sergeant, because I had the ability to pack my emotions away in a little box and set them aside to address after the job. Enforcing wasn’t just brute-force violence: it was planning, risk assessment, and on-the-fly decision-making. Emotion-based thinking, rash thinking, was an easy way to endanger the club. I prided myself on my cool head in high-stress situations.
And yet as soon as I saw Bane, a cold bolt of rage sliced through me. We weren’t hidden from view, that was impossible in the desert, but we were shadowed by the small cabins. I almost leaped into Bane’s path to take him out myself. Only Blade’s hand on my shoulder stopped me.
Raven looked like he might throw up.
With an exhale, I reined myself in. First and foremost this was just another job. Same as any other. Excess emotion would simply complicate things.
Bane managed to make his way away from the main building and toward one of the small standalone buildings. He tried to stuff the key into the lock, missing it repeatedly, and the girl laughed as she hung off his shoulder. It was a hollow, fake sound.
“Bane.” Blade stepped out of the shadows. Priest, Coop, and I followed, with Raven close at my back.
Bane dropped his key, and then turned around with a slow grin breaking across his flat bulldog face. He gripped the girl by her waist and tugged her close to him.
“Blade,” Bane said. “Nice to see you outside of your little home base. And you brought your friends.”
“I’ve got some questions for you,” Blade said. “Why don’t you come with us?”
Bane pulled the girl in even tighter so she was halfway in front of him. Like a human shield. That fucking asshole. I clenched my fists.
“Now’s not a great time.” Bane’s toothy grin was still plastered on his face. “Why don’t you meet me in the city tomorrow and we’ll talk like grown-ups?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a better idea.” Blade reached into his pocket.
“Watch it.” Bane nodded at the girl.
With catlike speed, Blade pulled a knife from his pocket and threw it, perfectly accurate, into Bane’s thigh. Bane barked in pain, lurching forward, and the girl pulled away.
I caught her by the arm as she tried to leave. “Can’t let you go inside. Not yet.”
The girl looked young, way too young, her wide brown eyes red-rimmed with pinprick pupils. Stimulants, probably. “I won’t say anything.”
“Gunnar. Let me.” Raven took the girl by the upper arm and led her back to the main building. I let her walk. She relaxed minutely, and I saw her speaking to Raven as they stood by the back door.
Bane pressed on the wound, stabilizing the knife as blood oozed between his fingers. He snarled something unintelligible, likely a curse, and reached into his jacket.
Gun. I darted forward, slamming bodily into Bane before he could wrest the gun from its holster. I knocked into the knife, causing the blade to shift in the wound, and Bane grunted in pain. Then I gripped his wrist and pulled his empty hand from his jacket. After a few moments’ struggle I had him restrained, my front to his back, his wrists restrained in my hands.
“Weapons,” I said to Coop.
With a nod, Coop stepped forward and stripped Bane of his weapons—the handgun from his side and the knife from his pocket.
“You think you scare me?” Bane hissed. “You think it’s a show of power to show up five-on-one? Cowardly fuckers, all of you.”
Bane knocked his head back, and the back of his skull collided with my mouth. I must’ve bitten my tongue, as all my teeth were intact, but the coppery taste of blood still filled my mouth.
“Watch it, asshole,” Coop said. He twisted the knife in Bane’s leg.
Bane howled.
“That’s enough,” Priest said.
Coop stepped aside.
“Gunnar, let him go.”
“Priest—”
“I said let him go!”
Priest’s sharp tone shocked me into compliance. Against my better judgment, I released my grip on Bane.
He staggered forward a step. Bane laughed and straightened up and opened his mouth to speak. Then Priest threw one elegant, well-aimed punch. His knuckles connected with Bane’s temple with a dull thud, and Bane dropped to the ground like a heap of roadkill.
“I won’t hit a man who doesn’t have the chance to hit back,” Priest said.
Blade nodded, impressed. “Tie him up, Coop.”
Once Bane’s hands and wrists were zip-tied together, we threw him in the bed of the truck. No words were spoken. We all knew what was about to happen.
I caught Raven’s eye. He just shook his head. His expression was stony and flat. Justice was close, yet Raven didn’t look eager. He looked resigned. Ready. In silence, we rode side-by-side back to the secluded cabin.
23
Raven
Bane came back into consciousness with a gurgling groan. An immense bruise was blossoming on the side of his face, and Blade’s knife was still embedded in his leg. I refused to risk removing it and having him lose too much blood before I could question him properly.
“You motherfuckers.” Bane’s voice was thick, like his mouth was full of cotton. “Fucking pansy club. You just wait.”
“Wait for what?” I asked. “No one’s coming to save you.”
Bane said nothing. His eyes flickered around the room. There was nothing in the cabin except for the chair Bane was fastened to and my Hell’s Ankhor family surrounding him.
He was afraid. A rich rush of satisfaction filled me at the sight. This was the man who’d killed my father. Who’d left him to bleed out alone on the asphalt of the town he loved. This was the man who’d taken the leader from our club and wounded us all. And finally, after all this time, I had him weak and helpless in front of me.
Staring down at Bane, an unfamiliar feeling gripped me, pinning my feet to the floor. It was beyond anger, beyond fear, beyond bloodthirsty revenge. Different than the anger that’d cut through me upon receiving the emails. Different than anything I’d ever felt before. It was isolating and intense, an icy sensation that coursed through me, wrapping cold tendrils around my heart and paralyzing any trace of empathy.
Hatred. It was pure, undiluted, and intoxicating; it sharpened my senses and muted my mind. I wanted Bane to suffer, and I wanted to be the one to cause it.
I backhanded Bane hard across the face. My knuckles connected with his jaw with a satisfying crunch. Bane grunted in pain. I followed it with a punch. His nose collapsed. Blood poured from his nostrils. I struck him in the face again, and again. His blood stained my hands. His face swelled and bruised, like I was an artist and his face my canvas. But my relentless assault did nothing to mitigate the icy cold hatred inside me—if anything, it started to thaw into an all-consuming rage.
“You killed him,” I said.
Bane spit blood on the floor at my feet and said nothing.
I struck him once more and Bane’s head lolled back before dipping forward, his eyes dazed.
“Raven.” Someone behind me said my name. I barely heard it.
I moved to strike Bane again, but a hand caught my arm and pulled me away.
“Raven!” Gunnar pulled me backward. “That’s enough.”
“Why?” I struggled against Gunnar’s grip on my shoulders. I felt wildly out of control, and I wasn’t done with Bane. He needed to hurt as much as I did—to suffer as Dad had suffered. “Why did you kill my father?”
Bane stared at me for a long moment, his brow furrowed, and then realization dawned slowly on his face.
And he had the audacity to chuckle. “Is that what this is all about? You’re Ankh’s boy.”
“You keep my father’s name out of your mouth.”
“So you’re letting the kids come out and play with the road crews, huh, Blade?”
“Watch your tongue,” Blade growled, “or I’ll cut it out myself.”
“He was weak. A fool,” Bane said. “A stain on the reps of West Coast clubs. Not that you’re any better, Blade, but no one knows who you are. I did you all a favor.”
My stomach fell to my feet as if I’d suddenly been dropped from a great height.
This was really real. This was the man who had killed my father. And part of me had thought once I had him in front of me, once I’d been able to learn why it’d happened, and enact some sort of revenge, I’d feel better. But this monster didn’t even care. And no amount of pain inflicted would bring Dad back. I’d known that, intellectually, but my heart hadn’t known it.
Blade kicked Bane hard in his thigh, just inches away from where the knife was embedded. Bane groaned. He leaned forward and blood dripped from his broken nose onto the floor.
It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how much Bane suffered, it didn’t matter what information I learned. None of it fucking mattered. At the end of the day, Dad was still dead. I began to shake.
Gunnar tightened his grip on my shoulders. “You should wait outside.”
I wrenched out of his hold. “What?”
He pulled me a few steps away from Bane, toward the door. The rest of the club’s attention flicked between us and Bane. Gunnar caught Coop’s eye. “Coop, you and Raven can step out for this part.”
“What the fuck are you saying?” I shoved Gunnar in the chest hard, and he stumbled back a step. “You’re trying to kick me out? I’m part of this road crew. And I need to be here for all of it.”
“You don’t.” Gunnar stepped close again, undeterred. “You shouldn’t. This—you’re not an enforcer, Raven. It changes you.”
“You think I can’t handle it? You think I need you to tell me what I can and can’t do?”
“No—that’s not—”
“I don’t need you to shelter me. I’m not a fucking kid. I thought, after everything, that you’d finally figured that out.”
“It’s not about that.” Gunnar grimaced deeply. “You know it’s not.”
“Do I? Can you read my fucking mind some more? Tell me my own feelings?” I turned away. The anger inside me was burning, boiling, overwhelming everything else. “There’s not a single other person in this room you’d ask to leave. You don’t get to have it both ways. You can’t treat me like this—like we’re together—when we’re not.”
Gunnar glanced around the cabin. I could feel the rest of the club’s eyes watching us.
My anger and hurt turned my stomach, making me nauseous. “Nothing’s changed, huh? Still trying to play this off like it’s nothing unless you need me to do something that will benefit you somehow. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of your games.”
Suddenly, Gunnar grabbed me by my jacket and tugged me close to him, silencing me with a hard, possessive kiss. For a moment my body betrayed me, the kiss a balm on the angry wound inside me, and I melted against him.
Then my mind caught up, and I jerked away from Gunnar’s touch. The cabin was silent, even with the club members around us, save for Bane’s wet, half-conscious breathing. My anger stuttered into confusion. Why would he do that?
“Look at me.” Gunnar’s voice was low and sweet.
I met his gaze. The honesty I saw there hit me as hard as the kiss had.
“This isn’t a game to me. I’m not fucking around. What I feel for you—it’s—” his gaze searched my face like he’d find the words he needed— “It’s real. I’ll prove it every day for the next fifty years if I have to. But I’m not going anywhere.”
Stunned, I could only remain frozen.
“Please don’t do this,” he said. “Don’t be a part of this. It won’t help.”
I said nothing.
“I made my choice years ago.” Gunnar gripped the back of my neck and squeezed, a rough, affectionate gesture. “You did your part. You found him. Your investigation is over. We all have a role in the club—let me play mine.”
My breath came fast and shallow. My gaze flickered between Bane and the door. I wanted to believe Gu
nnar, but I was anxious, exhausted, and wild with anger. I still wanted to be part of Bane’s punishment. Gunnar hadn’t gotten to be sergeant on brawn alone—he knew how to be persuasive, strategic, and maybe he was just using my feelings toward him to get me out of the room. After all, he hadn’t seemed to be in any rush to make our relationship public knowledge before now.
With a sigh, Pops stepped closer, nudging his shoulder against mine. “Gunnar’s right,” he said. “Your dad wouldn’t want this for you. Wait outside. Let the enforcers do their job as well as you did yours.”
I couldn’t fight Pops. Not now. If he agreed, there must be some truth to what Gunnar was saying. I nodded, hugged Pops briefly but with as much force as I could muster, and slipped out the door.
Gunnar
Even with Raven gone, tension still simmered in the room. Blade looked to Priest for next steps, and once Blade did, I did as well. It was Priest’s right to lead the interrogation.
The pain was clear in Priest’s eyes, but the pain did nothing to crack the foundation of strength there. I knew seeing Raven in pain had gutted Priest. But his control over his emotions was unshakeable. If I was lucky, and worked my ass off, I hoped to one day be half the man Priest was.
But today, I’d make Bane suffer. Not just for Ankh, and not just for me. For Priest, and for all of the Hell’s Ankhor members who had suffered from Ankh’s loss.
And for Raven.
Even though Raven had been raised in the club, and was in some ways more immersed in it than anyone else, he was still distanced from the real brutality of it. And I wanted to keep it that way. Raven’s reaction when he’d seen Bane had scared me—he’d gone cold, flat, so unlike the warm, snarky man I’d fallen in love with. His anger was warranted, but it’d consumed him quickly and powerfully like a wildfire. If he wanted to start enforcing, that was one thing—there were ways to do that, a process to ease him in. But he didn’t need to start like this. And I knew it wasn’t what he really wanted; he didn’t have that kind of violence in him.
