by Andi Rhodes
“Don’t act like you’re innocent, Charlotte. I know you killed one of our own that day and you’d do it again for that piece of shit. Only this time I’m not giving you the chance.”
A figure comes out of the shadows in my periphery, and I muffle a scream into Leal’s hand. It’s Donovan, Leal’s new VP.
I search Donovan’s eyes, but groan when I only see cold loyalty. Not compassion. Not concern. Only cold loyalty to Leal. We don’t teach anything else here.
Leal lifts his hand from my mouth, but it’s quickly replaced with Donovan’s. I scream and struggle as I’m dragged off the porch, and Leal’s compassionate frown returns. He stands there with his shoulder propped against a post watching me.
“I’ll be here to forgive you when it’s over,” he says, his voice sad. Like I betrayed him. Like I should give a fuck about betraying him.
I scream and buck and put all of my energy into getting away from Donovan and getting to Fender.
I have to warn him! My brain screams, but all it comes out as is a muffled plea into a dirty palm. I lose myself into panic. Lose myself into despair, defeat.
I lose myself so much that I almost miss it when the curtain in the window behind Leal ruffles.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’m coming, Charlie. Stay strong for just a little while longer.
Fender
“Jesus, I’m coming.”
I roll out of bed, intent on breaking the face of whoever is pounding the hell out of my door. As I stumble through my living room, I wonder what time it is. It has to be early based on the darkness just beyond my windows. When I throw open the door, a groan escapes past my lips.
“This better be a fucking emergency,” I growl.
“There’s a chick at the gate.” Craze smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Says she won’t talk to anyone but you.”
My first thought is that it’s Charlie, and I stand a little straighter knowing I’m going to get to see—
“It’s not Charlotte,” Craze breaks into my thoughts, and my body tenses with frustration.
“Tell her to come back later,” I demand.
I step back so I can close the door, but Craze flattens his palm against it to hold it open. I glare at his hand before glancing back at him.
“Sorry, prez, but she’s insistent. Looks scared, too.”
“Fuck,” I mumble, scrubbing my hands over my face and stepping through the doorway to follow Craze to the gate.
“Ah, prez…”
“What?”
“You might want to put some clothes on.”
Craze’s eyes remain on mine as he tries not to laugh. I glance down and note that he’s right, I’m as naked as I can get. I spin around and trudge to my room to throw on the clothes I discarded on the floor before crawling into bed just a few short hours ago. Once I’m dressed, I grab my gun from under my pillow and tuck it into my waistband. I have no idea who the chick is, but a person can never be too careful.
Craze and I walk to the front gate in silence. It’s a long trek, and I can’t help but wonder who wants to see me. What is so important that another brother couldn’t handle it? When the gate comes into view, illuminated by the moon and the motion sensored security lights, I squint to make out the pacing figure just beyond the black iron.
What the fuck?
“Craze, go wake the others. Tell ‘em all to get to the clubhouse.”
“Sure thing.”
Craze jogs toward the clubhouse, which is at least a half a mile away. I square my shoulders and close the distance between me and my middle-of-the-night visitor.
“You better have a damn good reason for being here.”
“Chr—” Sylvia cuts off the word and takes a deep breath. She stopped pacing when I reached her, and now she’s standing with her fingers curled around the iron slats of the gate. “I mean, Fender. Can you let me in? Please?”
“No.”
I don’t know Sylvia, but I’ve heard enough from Charlie to not like her, not trust her. I stare at her with my arms crossed over my chest.
“You have to let me in!” she shouts, stomping her foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“Yeah?” I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s about Charlotte.”
My muscles instantly tense, and my mind races through the endless possibilities of why Sylvia would come here about Charlie. None of them are good, but Sylvia is the enemy and I’m not taking the chance that this is a set-up. But I can’t ignore her either.
“What about her?”
Sylvia frowns and tilts her head, clearly frustrated that the mention of Charlie didn’t immediately grant her entry.
“Do you love her?”
“What kind of question is that? And what the fuck business is it of yours?”
“Answer the damn question, Fender,” she snaps.
Anger surfaces at her attitude, but I can’t deny that a part of me admires her for it. There are grown men that have smaller balls than she does. I let my gaze roam over her body before returning it to her face to examine her expression. That’s when it hits me. She’s scared as hell.
“What are you afraid of?” I ask.
“Answer. The. Fucking. Question.”
I shake my head at her bravado but let my lips tilt into a grin. Her spunk matches Charlie’s, and I realize that I can’t lie to her.
“Yeah, I love her.” There’s a bite to the words. “Doesn’t matter though.”
Sylvia drops her hands from the bars, and they fall to her sides. She seems to study me for a minute, probably trying to gauge my sincerity, and gives a curt nod.
“It matters. Probably more than you think.” Again, she takes a deep breath, blows it out slowly. “If what you say is true, let me in.” She stretches her arms out wide. “What am I going to do, huh? I don’t have any weapons. You’re easily twice my size, so even if I tried, I couldn’t hurt you. Just please, please, trust me. Do it for Charlotte.”
I let her words sink in and realize that she’s right. Even if she meant harm, she appears to be alone and I can handle one female with an attitude.
I walk to my right and press a few buttons on the panel that controls the gate. After the combination is entered, the gates slide open. Sylvia’s relief is obvious in the way she sighs, and her body seems to deflate.
“Thank you,” she says as she crosses over the threshold and takes her first step onto Soulless Kings’ property.
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t quite made up my mind what to do with you.”
I grip her bicep and tug her along with me toward the clubhouse. Her eyes dart around as we walk, and every once in a while, she stumbles over a rock and I have to tighten my hold to keep her from falling. The silence is deafening, so I try to fill it.
“Does anyone know you’re here?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I made sure I wasn’t followed. I even parked my car in the woods a few miles down the road and ran the rest of the way here.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her mouth bow into a smile and it’s clear that she’s proud of herself. My admiration goes up a notch, but I force it to the back of my mind. Just because she seems to be athletic doesn’t mean she’s not sneaky. In fact, her own words prove just how sneaky she can be.
“So Charlie doesn’t even know you’re here?”
“She’s the one that told me to come. Made me promise.”
“I don’t understand.”
Sylvia heaves a giant sigh and digs her heels in, forcing me to stop and face her.
“Look, I know how this shit works. You’re taking me to the clubhouse and the rest of the gang is gonna be there. You don’t trust me, I get that. But I’ve got news for you buddy. I don’t trust you either.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Charlotte, for whatever reason, does. I’d prefer to only go through the details once, so can we please save the interrogation until your little friends are present? Huh? Do you think we can do
that?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a fucking smart mouth?”
“All the time.”
“Let’s go.”
I don’t grab her this time, instead I start walking and let her make the choice to proceed. I still don’t quite trust her, but it took guts to come here alone, and for whatever reason, I’m confident she’ll follow me. She clearly has information for me, and according to her, she jumped through hoops to get here.
When we reach the house, Craze is standing on the porch along with Piston and Joker. The smell of weed wafts through the air, and smoke curls from their mouths.
“Everyone here?” I ask as I ascend the steps.
“Yep,” Piston responds as he holds the joint out to me.
Before I can take it, Sylvia reaches out and snatches it from Piston’s fingers. We all stare at her, wide-eyed, as she draws on it deeply and holds in her breath. She takes another hit before passing it to Joker.
“Damn, that’s some good shit. Much better than what we get.”
“It’s our own special blend.” Joker’s mouth slams shut as if he realizes too late that she’s supposed to be the enemy.
“No worries, guys. Your secret’s safe with me.” She punctuates her statement with a wink.
The longer I’m with this girl, the more confused I get. I want to hate her. I want to send her packing and go back to bed. But I also want to know why the hell she’s here and that won’t happen if she leaves.
“Let’s get inside.” I open the screen door and step through.
When we enter the meeting room, Piston, Joker, Craze and I deposit our weapons in the box before going to our normal seats. I glance back at Sylvia. She hasn’t moved, but her gaze is darting around the room. I raise my brows at her and cross my arms over my chest. She may think I’m stupid, but I’m not.
“Oh for the love…” She bends over and pulls a butterfly knife out of her right boot and a pair of pink brass knuckles out of her left boot, depositing both in the weapons box before straightening. “Happy?”
“Not even a little bit,” I snarl. “Just get to the reason you’re here so we can all go back to bed.”
Sylvia walks the rest of the way into the room and stands next to me. I don’t know how it works in her world, but only one person stands at the head of the table: me. I let it go because I need to know why she’s here and I don’t want any more delays.
“Short version… Charlotte’s been taken by one of our own, on Leal’s order, and she made me promise to come here and warn you about an attack that’s planned before the sun rises.”
“Wait,” Greaser speaks up. “Isn’t Leal your president?” When Sylvia nods, he continues. “So you want us to believe that Charlotte’s in danger from her own family, and out of the goodness of your heart, you’re here to deliver a warning?”
“That about sums it up.”
“That doesn’t even begin to sum shit up.” Sylvia’s head whips toward me, and I let my head fall back while I silently count to ten to calm myself down. “I may regret this, but give us the fucking long version.”
“You got it,” she quips. “Earlier tonight Charlotte and I… overheard our boys in church.” Sylvia glares at Joker when he snorts at her description of their eavesdropping. “I don’t think Charlotte’s ever done that before, but I have. Many times. Tonight was different though. Leal, the nutless douchebag, wants war.”
“That’s nothing new,” Piston says when she pauses. “Soulless Kings and Black Savages hate each other. Always have.”
“You’re not wrong, but this is more than that. It’s personal for him.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s the only one who wants this war. Hell, it’s not even a war. It’s a full-on murder spree and you’re all the target.” Sylvia glances at me. “Well, you’re the target and everyone else is collateral damage.”
My blood boils at the information, burning me from the inside out. My muscles tense, and I have to force myself not to lash out.
“What’s this got to do with Charlie?” Piston asks, his tone deadly.
“Apparently Leal knew about their relationship all those years ago. The attack back then,” Sylvia pauses and looks at me. “The one where your parents were killed… Leal orchestrated it. He wanted to take you out and claim Charlotte as his own.”
“Where is Charlie now?”
“After church, Charlotte and I went back to the house, and Leal was waiting on the porch. He sent me inside, but I guess he didn’t realize that the window was cracked open a bit. I ducked down and listened to what he had to say.” Sylvia shudders as she recalls what happened. “I gotta say, I kind of suspected that he had a thing for her, but it’s so much more demented than a little crush. He thinks she belongs to him.”
I bring my fists down on the table, and Sylvia jumps beside me. “She belongs to me.”
“Yeah, I know,” she says, swallowing hard. “I’m not the enemy here. I don’t give a damn about rivalries. Despite the fact that we haven’t always been close, I just want Charlotte to be happy. And I want her safe. But she’s not right now. Leal has her and who knows what he’ll do to her. You need to go get her.”
“Do you know where he’s got her?” Riker asks.
“He had Donovan, the most loyal of the Black Savages, take her. I watched when they left so I could see which direction they went. Leal stayed behind on the porch for a few minutes but when he left, he went in the same direction. I think they’ve got her at his house, but I can’t be sure. We’ve got a holding building, but that’s in the opposite direction. There’s an outbuilding near Leal’s house so I’m guessing they're at his place or the outbuilding. Either way, I doubt it’s still just Leal and Donovan guarding her now. Most of the Black Savages don’t want a war with you guys. They just want to belong to the club and live their lives, but there are a few that are loyal to a fault. Those few will be with him.”
“Do you happen to have specs for any of the locations?”
Sylvia shakes her head. “But I can get someone to help who does. Like I said, most don’t want a war and they won’t be happy when they find out that Charlotte’s in danger. She’s not everyone’s favorite person, especially since she left, but she’s one of us. She’s family.”
I step around Sylvia and walk to the desk in the corner of the room. I yank open one of the drawers and pull out a burner phone to carry back to her.
“Here, call whoever it is you think we can trust.” She stares at the phone a moment before trying to take it. I tighten my grip and give her a warning. “If you’re playing us, if I suspect for even a fucking millisecond that this is a setup, it’ll be your safety that will be in question. Got me?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
I let go of the device and she dials a number before putting the phone to her ear.
“Speakerphone,” I demand.
Sylvia obeys and while the phone rings, I pray that whoever she’s calling will answer in the middle of the night.
“Yo,” a deep male voice comes through the line.
“Snow, it’s Sylvia.”
“Do you have any idea what time it is, Syl?” he asks around a yawn.
Sylvia glances at the phone before responding. “Damn, sorry. I didn’t realize it was two in the morning. It’s been a long night.”
“Whaddya need?”
“I need you to come to the Soulless Kings’ compound.”
“Jesus, how’d they get ya? Are you okay?” Snow seems a little more alert now that he thinks Sylvia’s been taken.
“I’m fine, Snow, but Charlotte’s not. She sent me here, and we need your help. Can you do that? Can you come here so we can help her?”
“What’re ya talking about? I saw Charlotte a few hours ago and she was fine. She and Donovan were taking a walk.”
“Snow, listen to me. Charlotte isn’t safe with him. Please, do this for us. Do this for me.”
There’s a hint of something in her tone that has me roll
ing my eyes while we wait for his response. Pussy. It gets us all into trouble, doesn’t it?
“Shit, yeah, I’ll help.” There’s a rustling noise and it sounds as if Snow is getting out of bed. “I’ll be there in a half hour.”
“Thanks, Snow.”
“You bet.”
The call ends and Sylvia hands the phone back to me.
“Now what?” she asks.
“Now, we wait for Snow and we start brainstorming.” I glance around the table, making eye contact with each of my men. “Go get yourselves some coffee and wake the fuck up. It’s gonna be a long night.”
They all file out of the room, grabbing their weapons as they do. Sylvia stays behind and hops up on the table.
“Thank you, Fender.”
“Save your thanks for when we have Charlie.”
“Right.”
I walk to the window, leaving Sylvia behind me. She’s earned my trust, for now. As I stare out into the darkness, the moon illuminating the trees in the distance, I picture Charlie the last time I saw her, standing across from me as I pushed her from my life.
I’m coming, Charlie. Stay strong for just a little while longer.
Chapter Twenty-Five
You fucking believe me now?
Charlie
The bed creaks from Donovan’s shifting, but I don’t look at him. I’m tied in a wooden chair on the other side of the room, and even though I’m facing him, my eyes are trained on a framed photograph sitting on the nightstand. I can’t look away. No matter how badly I want to, I can’t. Because the photo is of me.
I remember the day perfectly. It was my fourteenth birthday and Daddy had just given me a new bike. A real bike, not just a little Kawasaki. Dixie is what I called her. She was the smaller version of the Harley I bought when I was seventeen and still ride to this day.
In the photo, I’m straddling the bike and smiling up at the camera, showing off my braces. My hair is in two messy braids that hang past my chest, and my spaghetti straps hang loosely on my shoulders.
