The Dead Saga (Book 6): Odium VI

by Riley, Claire C.

  “So what now then?” he asked, like I had all the answers.

  Twenty minutes before he’d had a plan put together in the blink of an eye and was ready to move on out. Now he was looking at me for the answers. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  I shrugged. “We wait. We trust in Shooter and his men, and hope that their two clubs can come to some sort of agreement and work together, and then we help them take down the Savages.” I sat down, feeling tired and deflated. It wasn’t a quick plan. It was long, and the longer it took the less likely it was that Mikey would live. The thought of something happening to him made me feel sick.

  “You sure we can’t just go in there and get him?” Michael grumbled.

  I shook my head. “No, not from what O’Donnell told me.”

  “O’Donnell?” Michael asked.

  I looked down at my hands in my lap, at my dirty fingernails and the blood still soaked on my skin. I needed to wash. I felt dirty, both inside and out.

  “Yeah, Mikey was with O’Donnell when he got taken. Apparently Mikey was trying to rescue some others that the Savages had being holding captive.”

  “Sounds like him.”

  “Don’t it just.”

  “And this O’Donnell, did he say anything else?” Michael asked.

  My stomach ached. “O’Donnell is a woman. Mikey was with her when it all went to hell. She was a mess when we ran into them on the road.” I looked up at Michael, hoping he’d understand my meaning. “She was broken-hearted that something might happen to him.” I put it to him casually, hoping that he’d read between the lines and understand what I was trying to say. Thankfully he did.

  Michael stayed expressionless, but he nodded in understanding. We fell into silence, and I welcomed it. My head felt full and heavy and my heart hurt. I longed to rush out and try to rescue Mikey, but I knew it would be fruitless. No, we had to stick to the plan.

  “You’ve not exactly been innocent yourself, you know,” Michael finally said, splitting the silence in half.

  I let out a dry laugh but didn’t respond.

  “I mean, what happens if we do rescue him? What then?”

  I wanted to shake him and tell him to mind his own business, because I had no idea “what then.” I had no idea about anything. Everything I did was a guess, chance, or a fluke. Including Mikey. And definitely including Shooter.

  I hadn’t meant to fall for either man, yet it had happened.

  I stood up. “I have no idea, I guess that will be down to Mikey.”

  Michael snorted on a laugh and shook his head but remained silent.

  “What? Just spit it out if you have something to say!”

  Michael stood up and looked at me, the look of contempt back on his face. “After everything you’ve done to my family, you’d think I hate you.”

  “You do!” I bit out, my words sounding frustrated and sad all at the same time.

  He shook his head. “No, I hate what you’ve become, Nina, not what you did. I always thought of you as sort of a warrior, a survivor through and through. Reminded me of Nova in some ways.” He shook his head and I practically stumbled back from his words. “Never thought you were a coward though,” he said bitterly before turning and walking away. And just like in the movies with one of those dramatic scene closures, I let him.

  I put my hands on my hips and let out a slow breath. “Well fuck,” I muttered to myself, not sure what to make of Michael’s little speech. Was he right? Was I being a coward by staying there? “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  “I’m always willing,” Shooter said from behind me, making me jump.

  I turned abruptly, almost falling into his arms as I jumped again at his proximity. “Shooter, what the hell?”

  He let out a dark chuckle. “You okay, darlin’?”

  I shrugged. “I guess. Any news on Gunner?” I took a step back from him but he followed me, invading my space with his alpha-maleness. And yes, that was totally a thing.

  “No.” He frowned, all business again. “Brothers should be back here soon with him though,” he said, his hard gaze hitting me so intently that I could feel it in the pit of my stomach.

  How did he do that?

  “What went down last night…what you saw…” He sighed, a V forming between his eyebrows as they knitted together. “That stays between us. You feel me?”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “Need to hear you say it,” he rumbled out, his blue eyes holding me hostage.

  “Yes, I won’t say anything.”

  He finally looked satisfied, his frown lessening but his intensity keeping me captive. “Don’t know what it is about you, woman, but you make all my good sense go out the window.”

  I wanted to take it as a compliment, but I had a feeling it was just as much of an insult.

  I swallowed, my mouth dry. I turned away and walked to the window to look out. I couldn’t think properly when Shooter was that close, his intense stare penetrating me until I felt naked underneath it. I cleared my throat when he came to stand next to me, no idea what else to say to him.

  “Nina?” He said my name, the sound like a promise and a threat all rolled into one. A delicious seduction that I wanted to ignore but couldn’t. Because the whole time I was trying to ignore it, all I could see was O’Donnell and Mikey…together. What was wrong with me?

  “What?” I replied, not looking away from the view outside.

  He fell silent and I waited for him to say something, my arms wrapped around my middle protectively. It was a move I hadn’t realized I was doing until my hands were squeezing my arms so hard that I was practically cutting off circulation. I loosened my grip and looked back at him. His scowl was back in place—never a good sign.

  “Go get cleaned up. I’ll let you know when there’s some news on Gunner,” he finally said before turning and walking away.

  And for the second time that day, I let a man walk dramatically away from me.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I was alone, and that shouldn’t have bothered me so much, yet it did. I wanted…I didn’t know what I wanted. I wanted something that wasn’t the empty, hollow, uncomfortable feeling in my gut. That was what I wanted. Things weren’t supposed to be like that.

  Mikey was supposed to be with Adam and Joan, safe somewhere. Hopefully at Ben’s parents’ cabin by now. And I was supposed to be—where? I was going to find him, wasn’t I? Or was that just a lie I was telling myself? I didn’t know anymore. I didn’t know anything.

  Somewhere along the dirt road of devastation I had lost my way, and I wasn’t sure how I could find my way back. Worse, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.

  I headed back over to my room to get cleaned up. Gunner’s blood still stained my hands and arms and I wanted it off me as quickly as possible. Not only for the hygiene reasons, but Gunner’s blood felt like I was spreading Shooter’s secret to his club. A betrayal of sorts, without meaning it to be. A betrayal that would get Shooter, me, and Mikey killed if they ever found out.

  Shooter was a good man; I knew that deep down. Though what he had done was wrong, so very wrong. But his heart had been in the right place. Of that I had no doubt. However, that didn’t excuse the fact that he’d almost gotten a member of his own club killed. Perhaps two. Because if what Butcher had said was true, then Nitro would be dead before the day was through.

  The whole thing was insane and had rapidly spiraled out of control far too quickly for me to comprehend. I didn’t really understand the club politics, or why any of it was important. In fact, if nothing else, the whole mess was because those men had adhered so much to club politics instead of breaking protocol and actually listening to other people.

  Hopefully, moving forward, that was something that would change. Because if nothing else, I had to make a difference there. Somehow.

  My cabin door was open when I arrived. I stuck my head around and peered inside warily. “Hello?”

  The sound of a chair moving had me reaching for my knife, and I stepped inside
with it low at my waist but firm in my grip.

  “Hey,” Amara said, coming toward me. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks blotchy.

  Shit. In all the drama that had unfolded, I’d forgotten that about her. Of course she’d want to know about Gunner.

  “Have you heard anything? No one will tell me anything.”

  She started to cry again, and I sheathed my knife and moved toward her quickly, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into a hug. I held her for several minutes as she cried, her shoulders shaking as she spent up the last of her tears.

  “They’ve gone to get him,” I said, not sure what I was allowed to say and what I wasn’t. And since right then, with Mikey’s life hanging in the balance, wasn’t the time to piss Shooter or the others off, I decided to err on the side of caution. “We had to leave him in a cabin a couple of miles from here.”

  She pulled back from me, swiping at the hot tears on her cheeks, her eyes searching mine. “You left him? Why?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my god, is he dead?”

  “No, no,” I said, shaking my head frantically. “He’s alive. He was shot, and he lost a lot of blood. We only had bikes and couldn’t bring him back on those, so they’ve taken a truck to go get him.”

  “He was shot!” Amara said, her tears drying up as anger took over. “What is wrong with these people? Why can’t they just let us be!”

  I shook my head and shrugged pathetically. “I don’t know. I don’t understand the ideals behind these bikers, but I know Shooter’s heart was in the right place and he’ll do everything he can to save Gunner.”

  “I hate this place,” she said as she paced the room. “I hate these men and I hate this place. If he dies—”

  “If he does, I’m sure Shooter will take care of everything,” I said, sounding pathetic even to my own ears. I had no idea what Shooter would do if Gunner died. None at all. And from the look on Amara’s face, she didn’t believe me either. “I know you love him,” I started, “but from what Shooter and Balls said—”

  “You’re taking Balls’s side now?” she interrupted, her eyes flashing angrily.

  “I’m not taking anyone’s side. There’s no side to take—surely we’re all on the same side!”

  “No, there is a side. There’s their side and there’s mine.” She glared at me and walked toward the door. “You’ve obviously decided yours.”

  “Amara, it’s not like that. Gunner wasn’t a good man before he came here, you know that. That’s why Shooter put these rules in place, right?”

  She continued to glare at me and I pressed forward.

  “He was still in recovery, or whatever they call it. Maybe Shooter and Balls got it wrong about you and him, but they meant no harm. They were trying to protect you and all the other women in this place. That has to stand for something, right?”

  “Meant no harm?” she snapped, turning back to face me. “They could have killed him, Nina! He might come to harm.” She stormed out of my cabin and I felt like a hundred percent asshole. Like, if an asshole had an actual asshole, I’d be the asshole’s asshole. It wasn’t good at all.

  I walked to the door, watching as she headed toward the front gate, disappearing around a corner, and I clicked the door closed with a heavy sigh, wishing I would have kept my damned mouth shut.

  Chapter Five

  I had finally scrubbed myself clean of Gunner’s blood—not that I felt much better for it, because the feeling I had inside me went bone deep and no amount of soap and water was going to get rid of it. God, I hoped Gunner lived.

  I dressed in a clean tank top and pulled on my dirty jeans. I grabbed my machete from where I’d left it on the bed. Someone had been in while I was cleaning up and put a sheath for it next to my dirty clothes, and I picked it up. The machete fit inside it perfectly, and when I took a closer look I realized that the sheath was attached to a small harness which I could wear around my waist. I pulled it into place, wondering who had left it there for me.

  The room was still empty when I left it and I closed the door behind me, wondering what to do next. Thankfully there was never a dull moment in my life and Gauge stalked toward me, a determined look on his face.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Happy,” I quipped as he came to a stop in front of me.

  “Shooter wants to see you, now.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course Shooter wanted to see me now. He never wanted to see me later. Or at my convenience. Everything was for him, when he wanted it, how he wanted it. I wondered if things with him would always be like that.

  “Did you hear me?” Gauge snapped, the lines around his eyes and mouth deepening like I was wasting his time by making him repeat himself. We’d all had a hard life, yet something about that man made me think he’d had it harder than most. Also, he had to be one of the grumpiest, most pig-headed and impatient people I’d ever met in my life.

  Gauge was older than a lot of the bikers there, yet he was still one of the most fearsome. He could easily pass for late forties, early fifties, but I had a feeling that he was actually much older than that. That didn’t stop him being scary as shit, though, with his dark brooding eyes, dark hair, and thick bushy beard.

  “I heard you,” I replied. “Where is he?”

  “His office,” he replied with obvious distaste for me.

  I turned and started to walk to Shooter’s office when Gauge called my name and I swung back around. “What?” I snapped.

  He swallowed, his frown deepening. “Gunner got brought in ‘bout twenty minutes ago.”

  My stomach flipped. “And?” I asked desperately.

  He shifted, looking uncomfortable at me asking so many questions. “He’s alive, barely.” He closed the distance between us, his height towering over me. “What really happened out there?”

  “Oh, now you want to play it nice with me? Now that you need something from me, huh?”

  His hard gaze penetrated mine and I practically wilted under it. I wasn’t sure how deep Gauge’s loyalty went: Would Shooter trust him to have his back if he knew the truth? What could I say? What couldn’t I say? I wasn’t sure anymore, but Gauge was someone I didn’t want to piss off and giving him nothing was sure to do just that.

  “Nitro shot him, I guess. I was outside waiting for Shooter when I heard the gun go off. By the time I got in there Nitro was gone and Gunner was on the ground bleeding out.”

  Liar. Liar. Liar! my subconscious yelled.

  “And then?” he asked, his eyes narrowing like he could see through my lies. He didn’t believe me—no way in hell, he just needed to catch me out on the lie.

  I swallowed before replying, trying to keep my expression neutral. “I dug the bullet out of him and tried to stop the bleeding as best I could.” I shrugged. At least that part was entirely true. “Shooter gave him something to ease the pain, and I guess it knocked him out cold.”

  “Unconscious in case the dead sacks got in there,” he muttered, and I shrugged.

  Gauge watched me carefully for a few seconds—seconds that felt like a freaking eternity—before finally nodding, his hard features softening fractionally. “You did good,” he said. “Reckon you mighta’ just saved his life. Hopefully.”

  “Hopefully?” I repeated.

  “Shooter explained about Amara and Gunner, and she backed up the story. He’s not fully recovered—not as far as I’m concerned, because trust me, the things he did before he came here, you don’t deal with so easily—but she says she loves him. That she’s carrying his kid.”

  I gasped like a fish out of water sucking for air. “She’s pregnant!”

  “Apparently so.” He sighed again. “Shit always gets complicated when women are involved,” he said with another shake of his head. He dragged a hand down his beard and scowled. “You better go find Shooter. We’re heading out soon.”

  I didn’t have time to ask who was heading out, where they were going, or what they were doing, because Gauge turned and stalked away, apparently done with his little heart-to
-heart with me.

  See? Grumpy, impatient, pig-headed.

  I turned and headed toward Shooter’s office, half wishing I hadn’t bothered when I opened the main door to the building and his booming voice could be heard all the way down the hallway. Who the hell knew what was happening now? All I knew was that I wanted a timeout from everything. From him, from that place, and from all the damned testosterone flying around.

  I reached his office and hesitated outside, not sure whether I should knock or wait. Truth be known, I didn’t really want to do either. I wanted to go and find Amara and see if she was okay. Maybe ask her why she hadn’t mentioned that she was pregnant when I had seen her less than a freaking hour before. The yelling rose even louder inside the office and I turned and started to walk away because fuck that. I had other things to do than stand around and wait for Shooter to finish yelling at people.

  The yelling grew even louder and I was pretty sure a chair was thrown, because the unmistakable sound of smashing wood echoed out to me and I winced. I stopped walking and turned back around, wondering if right then was the best time to try his patience. Probably not.

  The shouting had stopped, so I walked back toward the door before giving it two sharp knocks, before I chickened out.

  “What?” Shooter yelled from inside, and I turned the handle and pushed open the door.

  Inside was pure carnage: broken furniture, smashed glass, and then Shooter with his gun aimed at Michael, a look of unfiltered rage on his face. Michael was bloody and bruised, though Shooter looked like he’d taken a couple of hits too.

  Michael was on his knees in front of Shooter, his hair hanging around his face. He looked over at me, his expression grim.

  “What’s going on in here?” I yelled, my gaze darting between Michael and Shooter, though neither man would look at me since they were both so intent on staring longingly into one another’s eyes…Yeah, right. Death glare was more like it. “Anyone? Hello?” I snapped, coming further into the room. “Shooter, move that gun away from Michaels head!”