The Dead Saga (Book 6): Odium VI

by Riley, Claire C.

  “I know,” Shooter replied, his tone cold and empty.

  “I’m sorry.” The two words seemed so inadequate, and yet I truly meant them. I was sorry. Sorry for putting him in that position. Sorry for not being able to choose him. Sorry for being so indecisive and such a pain in his ass. I was sorry for it all.

  “I know,” he replied bluntly.

  “Prez’, where ye been?” Highlander said as he marched forward, the huge grin that was splitting his face falling when he saw Shooter’s expression. “What’s gone on?”

  “Let me speak to my club,” Shooter said.

  “I’m going with or without the club, Shooter. I have to.”

  He let out a dark and bitter laugh as a black cloud fell across his features. It was the scariest he’d ever looked. Like he’d release all of hell if I didn’t do as he said.

  “Do as I say, Nina. I’ll speak to my brothers and come and find you later.”

  I nodded, and he patted my hand and released me. I climbed off the bike and back onto my shaking legs. Shaking from the motions of the bike, but mostly from the force of his words.

  “You have to trust me, Nina. Now more than ever.”

  I nodded again, the intensity in his beautiful blue eyes burning right through me.

  “You trust me, and I’ll trust you. You feel me?” He leaned in, put his hand on the back of my head, and dragged my mouth to his, owning me with his strength. When he was done, he let me go and turned to his brothers. “I need an emergency evac crew ready to go in two minutes—Gunner’s hurt and needs our help ASAP. Everyone else in church—shit’s gone down bad, brothers. We’ve been dealing with the devil all along and we need to make this shit right.”

  He turned and walked away from me, leaving me breathless and confused in his wake. I didn’t know what it was about that man that made it so hard for me to say no. And I didn’t know what it was about Mikey that kept on bringing us back together, time and time again. All I knew for absolute certainty was that fate and destiny were really beginning to piss me off.

  I watched the men walk away, and as soon as they were out of my sight I headed straight over to the hospital wing to go see Michael, the ghost of Shooter’s touch still on my arms and his words ringing in my ears like a call to arms.

  I won’t let you go without a fight.

  Christ, what did he even mean by that? And why were men always so pigheaded and arrogant? He didn’t see me warning that O’Donnell chick away from Mikey, did he? No, good little Nina was just going along with things. Protecting people, fighting the good fight, and living with the consequences afterwards. Because that was what I did, always.

  I pushed through the hospital doors and headed down the dimly lit corridor toward Michael’s room. The hospital was cooler than outside—something to do with the materials that it had been built with, from what I’d heard. I mean, the lack of a working air-conditioning unit made it impossible to really stay cool, of course, but compared to the temperature outside, it was like sitting in a fridge—a fridge that wasn’t working correctly, but a fridge nonetheless.

  Michael was sitting at a small desk by the window, cleaning a couple of guns. He looked up when I entered and tucked his long dark hair behind his ears, his expression turning from dismay to concern when he saw me. Jesus, was I really that readable? And unlikeable?

  “What is it?” he asked, standing up, his muscles immediately taut with tension.

  He was topless, his colorful back tattoo on full display alongside the many scars that covered his body—some fresh, some not so much. But all of them added to his physique in some way. His body was lean and hard, and though no way near as big as any of the bikers in that place, I had no doubt he could handle himself. After all, he’d been playing this war game for most of his life, from what Nova had previously told me.

  In another lifetime, maybe I would have even found him attractive. As it was, he was anything but. At least to me.

  “Nina?” He scowled as he said my name, his obvious contempt for me showing through.

  I wasn’t sure at what point his dislike of me had turned to hate, but it had. Maybe he always had but he’d managed to disguise it well by ignoring the simmering rage bubbling below the surface. I couldn’t blame him—after all, I had gotten both of his crazy-assed sisters killed. But back on the road we’d started to get close. Not close enough to call each other friends, but certainly close enough that I believed he’d have my back if things went bad, and vice versa. Now, I didn’t think he’d help me in any way. In fact, from the glare he gave me he’d probably throw me to the damned wolves rather than help me.

  My intention was to build slowly to what had happened—sort of ease him into the fact that I had somehow stumbled across Mikey, again, and that he was in danger of being eaten alive if we didn’t help him. I didn’t want to shock the stupid man into having a heart attack or anything. Especially since he’d only just healed from the crash. But instead I did what I normally did: my mouth moving before my brain had filtered out that shit it shouldn’t really have said...

  “I found Mikey and he’s in danger. Cannibals are going to eat him if we don’t help. And yes, I was serious when I said cannibals.” It came out in one big rush of words, hitting me like a sucker punch to the gut as I said them out loud. The realization was sickening.

  Michael’s face worked through another series of expressions: joy, surprise, shock, horror, confusion. He finally settled back on his usual pissed-off look before replying to me.

  “Cannibals?” he finally said. “Like, real cannibals?”

  “Uh huh.” I nodded, my mouth going dry. “The kind that eat people. Because apparently that’s what we do at the end of the world,” I said sarcastically. “We torture and kill each other and then we eat each other’s flesh.”

  Michael looked away from me, his intense stare turning toward the table with the guns. He grunted something and then started to grab them off the table, quickly sliding the pieces back together in rapid speed as he assembled the guns. He grabbed his shirt from the back of his chair and slid his arms in.

  “Let’s go.” He started walking toward the door before I could gather my thoughts. He paused in the doorway and turned to look at me. “What are you waiting for? I said let’s go!” he yelled.

  He was right. What was I waiting for?

  “I don’t know,” I stuttered, shaking off the ghost of Shooter’s touch.

  “So move it, Nina.”

  I followed Michael out of the room and back down the cool hallway, every step making me feel more and more uncomfortable. Shooter’s words were still ringing in my ears, but so was the look on O’Donnell’s face.

  A war was raging inside me, whether to leave and go help Mikey then, or trust that Shooter had a plan and would help me save Mikey. Could I trust Shooter to do that? He was more intuitive than I had given him credit for, and he knew that Mikey was important to me without me saying. Would he really risk his men’s lives and whatever this thing was growing between me and him for another man?

  “We’ll need supplies, guns, rations, water. Think you can get something like that? I’ll go speak to Gauge and ask about a truck.” Michael talked as we walked, and I found myself almost jogging to keep up with him, my footsteps slapping against the linoleum as we headed down the hallway. “Pretty sure he’ll say no, but I’m not taking no for an answer.” And with that, he cocked his gun and cast me a dark look.

  Shit, this is really happening.

  “Shooter said to trust him,” I said to his back.

  Michael snorted out a laugh. “You really think he’s going to help rescue your man?” He stopped walking and turned to look at me. “Or, ex-man, right?”

  “Yeah, I do,” I said, knowing how stupid I sounded to believe that, but I did.

  “Then you’re dumber than you look,” he bit out, and kept on walking. Damn, it was like he read my mind or something.

  He pushed through the doors and I continued to follow him, my heart thumping
at my rib cage with every step I took.

  Michael turned back to look at me as I joined him outside. “We need to go now. No waiting around for anyone else. No meetings or other people making our decisions. We leave now and go help him, because regardless of whether you’re with Mikey or not, you owe him.” Michael scowled at me.

  “I owe him?” I spluttered. “I owe him? I don’t owe him anything! I risked my life going back into that mall and sending him away, and the woman that I just bumped into—the one that told me that there are cannibals waiting to make a burger out of my ex-boyfriend? Yeah, pretty sure she’s had a thing going on with Mikey. So climb off your high horse, Michael, before it bucks you off it and your obnoxiously self-righteous attitude gets trampled to death. I’m not the only one who can’t keep it in my pants!” I yelled.

  I let out a long breath as Michael’s expression softened. It was a start, I guess.

  He had the good sense to look a little coy, at least. “We need to hurry, Nina,” he said with less hate than a moment before. “I’ve seen hostage situations before, and I know how quickly they can spiral out of control.”

  I looked around us and nodded. Some of the women were working—carrying laundry, grinding flour, washing dishes. They smiled when they saw me and some even waved hello, clearly glad to see me. But it was the women that were training that really caught my eye. Those once-deemed-weak women, training hard, strengthening their bodies, and their minds, so they could save themselves.

  And I was going to leave them all.

  We were back outside with the sun and the fresh air and endless possibilities, and yet I felt trapped in the dark, suffocating on decisions.

  “We’re not coming back once we go, Nina.” Michael’s tone caught me off guard and I turned to look at him, dragging my gaze away from the training session. For once, he didn’t look angry at me. Instead there was a look of respect, almost, in his dark eyes. “You put to bed whatever it is before we leave, because this is it. At least for me.”

  I looked down at my feet, my shoulders slumping. “But they need me, Michael. How can I fill them up with so much strength and determination and then just leave them?”

  He swallowed but didn’t say anything.

  “Everything will go back to how it was before. Michael, you don’t get it. It’s not the same for a man. This world…” I threw my arms up, gesturing around us. “…it wasn’t made for women.”

  “The only thing this world was made for was death. It’ll kill us all equally, given the chance,” he said darkly. “Doesn’t matter whether you’re a man or a woman, black or white, gay or straight. Death is coming for us all.”

  “But when people look at you, they see a strong, capable man. When they look at me, at them”—I pointed to the women—“they see weakness, vulnerability. They see a liability. They don’t see the warriors they can be. They want to protect us, wrap us up in bubble wrap and keep us safe instead of letting us live.”

  “You ever thought that you women might be the only ones to survive this shit? You’re over here complaining about being protected too much, but you’re the only future this world really has, Nina. Without women, we’re all dead in the water anyway, and this is all for nothing.” He breathed out heavily and I let his words settle between us.

  He was right, at least partially, and I wasn’t so stubborn that I didn’t see it. But I also knew that those women looked to me for hope. Hope that things would change, and that they would be able to protect themselves if it all fell apart. Hope that there was a future for us all. Hope that maybe that future included stupid things like marriage, babies, and a happily ever after. I couldn’t make those things happen, of course, but I gave them hope that those things were possible. That a real life and not just survival was possible.

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it will go back to how it used to be,” he said, his frown softening.

  “Really?” I asked, and he nodded.

  “Can’t say for certain, but this place—it’s not so bad, I guess.” His tone was still hard, and I tried to see through it to see if he was lying to me, but I honestly couldn’t tell.

  “Let’s just get Mikey back and take it from there, okay?” I said without conviction.

  He opened his mouth to argue with me when Highlander’s bellowing voice cut through our standoff.

  “What the feck are you two doing stood around with your dicks in your hands? Shit’s going down, now get yourselves over to the clubhouse.”

  I glared over at him but he just grinned.

  “I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, darlin’, so get a move on or I’ll carry you over there myself, and I’ll give you a wee spank as I go too.” He chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows.

  Michael crossed his arms and glared at Highlander, but Highlander let out a loud laugh in response.

  “Get your sorry asses movin’, now!”

  “Let’s go see how much of a man he really is, shall we?” Michael started to walk away and I raised an eyebrow at his back. Michael clearly knew nothing if he was stupid enough to be questioning Shooter’s masculinity.

  I followed both Highlander and Michael toward the clubhouse. Once inside, we were told to wait outside what they called the church while Highlander went inside. Loud voices could be heard bellowing loudly from inside. Clearly they were not happy about something. It was probably something to do with me. I don’t want to toot my own trumpet, but if there was an award for pissing people off, I would own that shit.

  A few words made their way out to us, which only made me think I was correct in my assumption.

  “…not thinking with your big-boy brain…”

  “…under your damn thumb!...”

  “…bitch needs controlling…”

  I smirked at that one, because it was closely followed by a sound that I assumed was someone being punched in the face.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Michael mumbled to himself.

  I glanced over at him. He was leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees while his chin rested on top of his clasped hands. He was staring straight ahead, and if looks could kill…well, everyone would be dead in a twenty-mile radius.

  “Shooter will help us,” I soothed. And I believed it. Shooter may not have wanted to help Mikey, but he would. Not for me, of course. I wasn’t that stupid. But he’d do it because that was what he did. He took out the bad guys—or girls.

  Right then, I had no doubts that every bone in his body was telling him not to rescue Mikey. That it wasn’t worth his trouble, or his men’s lives, and that it would change everything between us. But he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. No doubt the idea of cannibals being in the area changed everything for him. But mostly, Shooter would help because he was a good man, no matter what Michael or anyone else thought about him.

  As if on cue, the door to the church opened and Highlander stuck his head out. He smiled when he saw Michael and I still sitting there waiting for him.

  “Ack, brilliant, you’re still here then. Had a feeling you two would scurry off like wee mice and I’d have to hunt your asses down.” He smirked.

  The door opened wider and the rest of the Devil’s Highwaymen started making their way out. Most of them ignored me, but a few cast a glance over, their dark gazes taking in every inch of me and Michael like we were anomalies to them. Hell, maybe we were.

  Highlander stood to one side, and when everyone had filtered out he gestured for us to go inside.

  I stood up first, ignoring Michael’s simmering anger, and headed inside. Shooter was sitting at the head of the table, with Gauge sitting to his right. Highlander clicked the door closed and went and sat to Shooter’s left.

  I sat down in one of the chairs around the table, the seat still warm from some big bad biker’s ass.

  “We’re arranging a meet with the Rejects,” Shooter said, his voice gruff. “The Savages need taking down, and our clubs are going to need to work together to get it done.”

&nb
sp; I glanced over at Gauge and Highlander to get their reactions. Highlander looked excited at the prospect, but Gauge looked furious. A cigarette hung between his lips and he slouched back in his chair glaring at me and Michael. Clearly he wasn’t happy with that plan of action.

  “What about—” I started to speak but Gauge pulled out his cigarette and cut me off.

  “Club business,” he bit out.

  “Fine. But I was wo—”

  “Club business,” he said again. “That’s all you need to know.”

  My gaze shot to Shooter, but he was looking unapologetically impassive about the whole thing. “It’s club business now, Nina. Stay out of it.”

  I stood up abruptly. “Like hell I will.”

  “You’ll do as you’re told if you want any part of this,” Shooter replied. “The Rejects aren’t the type of people to fuck with. Seems like the Savages ain’t much better either. If we’re going up against them, then I need your head clear on your part in this, not filled with other things.”

  I looked down at Michael, but he was watching the three bikers at the end of the room. They had his attention, though. I guess all he really cared about was rescuing Mikey, and since they were doing that, nothing else really mattered to him.

  “Fine,” I replied. “What’s my part?”

  A slow smile crept up Shooter’s face. “The part of my old lady of course.”

  Chapter Four

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” Shooter said, nodding toward the door.

  Well, I guess my time in there was up then. Mr. Fucking Polite was giving me my eviction orders from the sacred room. I rolled my eyes and stood up. Michael stayed seated until I kicked his chair, and then he sneered toward the other men and stood up, following me out of the room.

  “You trust them?” he asked as soon as the door was closed.

  “I trust him, yes,” I replied easily. “And they trust him too.”

  And I did. That was the truth. I trusted Shooter with my life. And now I was trusting him with Mikey’s. Was I being gullible and naïve? I didn’t know; I could only trust my gut instincts because they were what had gotten me this far.