And mostly, make them mourn.
But this time, seriously fucking fortunately, they’d failed.
“I am the master of my fate,” he whispered, head unbowed, blood and water and sweat mingling as it trickled down his neck, into his cut, drenching his tee, the adrenaline that had suffused him as the life he wanted to share with Rosie nearly went black on the stroke of a blade, staring, damned staring, unable to tear his eyes away. “I am the captain of my soul.”
Fuck, he’d killed a man.
It took a lot but he broke eye contact and walked away, sliding up the safety and shoving his gun in the back waistband of his jeans before pulling out his phone, ignoring the pizza he was picking up for him and Rosalie, moving to his truck.
He’d killed a man.
He had to make decisions, and fast.
He made them.
Fast.
So his first call was Rush.
His second call was Throttle.
His third call was Tack.
His last call was Rosalie.
He got in out of the rain and sat in his truck, stared at the steering wheel.
He’d killed a man.
He lifted his phone again and made one more call.
To Mitch Lawson.
Rush
Seven hours later . . .
It was Eddie Chavez who escorted Snapper out. Mitch and Slim wouldn’t get this one, not with their known relationship with Chaos.
Rush stood from the seat he’d been sitting in for six hours.
His dad got up from where he was sitting beside him.
Hound closed in from where he was standing, scowling at some notices on a bulletin board across the room.
Rush’s eyes fell on Snap, and the minute they did his dad’s voice came to him, rolling like slow thunder. “Stay cool, Rush. Stay fuckin’ cool.”
Thin line of a knife blade across his throat, breaking skin, not too deep, thank fuck, but there had been blood. His entire throat jacked to shit, purple bruises already forming. Angry red running along his left cheekbone. Speckles of watery bloodstains were also on his neck, his tee. Probably from the bullet hitting at close range.
“Hound,” his father rumbled in warning.
Hound’s fury clogged the room and it didn’t much die down when Snapper muttered, “I’m good.”
“Right,” Eddie chimed in. “There’s gonna be a review. Snap cannot leave town. But we aren’t holding him. The scene, his injuries, the identity of the dead guy, writing’s on the wall this was self-defense. Snap’s gun is registered, he’s got a permit to carry concealed. And no one in law enforcement in the state of Colorado is not in the know about the shit dogging Chaos.”
“And the dead guy?” Tack demanded.
“Karl Sanderson. Club name, when he had a club, Pacino. He’s ex-Bounty and I think in the current climate it’s important to note he was not ex-Resurrection. Known to be tight with Wayne ‘Digger’ Benson. Search of his home tonight found five K in a lot of bills, all the way down to ones, a gold crucifix friends of hers reported was taken off one of the prostitutes murdered that night, a Swatch watch, for fuck’s sake, another working girl was reported to be wearing. And next to all of that, and this is my favorite part, an unopened fifth of Jack with Arthur Lannigan’s fingerprints on it.”
They had Chew.
They could link this right to fucking Chew.
“So Chew hired some cast-adrift biker to kill a member of Chaos?” Rush asked disbelievingly.
“I can see the silver lining won’t be apparent to you boys for a while,” Eddie said as answer. “But considering the fact he was an idiot just taking the job, Snap has fifty pounds on the guy, the guy was armed with a knife, Snap with a gun, and this night ended with Snap blowing a hole through his jugular and not another way, it has a silver lining. And when Chew gets found, he has another charge landing on top of the two hundred and fifty we’re already prepared to lodge against him.”
Another thing they knew from this, Chew was not getting close to Chaos personally.
And he was tapped out.
“It’s gonna take some time to have the higher-ups sign off on this, but not a man or woman, even the DA, has a knife to his throat and a gun on his belt and is not gonna take that shot. From Snapper’s injuries and the disturbances at the scene, Snap tried to end this a different way. Out of options and with a man intent on ending him, he used deadly force,” Eddie said then turned to Snap. “You’ll be good. Just don’t leave town.” Eddie’s eyes swung through them all. “Or do anything stupid.”
He got no promises for that.
Eddie didn’t wait for them.
He flicked a hand and walked away.
“Keely’s already with Rosalie,” Hound said. “I got Snap. We’ll get his truck. We’ll stay with them tonight.”
“Rebel’s with her too,” Rush pointed out.
“And so is Roscoe, Dutch and Jag,” Tack assured Snapper. “She’s covered, brother.”
“Me tonight,” Hound declared.
“I got my woman,” Snap spoke.
“And see to her. I’ll see to the doors,” Hound replied.
“Let him, brother,” Rush said low to Snapper.
Snap’s jaw bulged before he nodded. And Rush got that, him wanting just Rosalie after tonight, not a house full of people. But safe was far better than sorry.
Rush gave his dad a look.
Tack read the look, corralled Hound and they shifted away.
Rush moved to Snap.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Snap clipped.
“Right, okay. You do . . .” Rush said no more.
Snapper’s eyes drifted to Hound. “Keely’s gonna be fucked up by this.”
“You think Hound’s hanging tight at your house with Keely there, and you know Dutch and Jag won’t leave, just to show you the love?” Rush asked.
Snapper looked to him.
“He’s showing you the love,” Rush said quietly. “He’s also making it crystal this was not history repeating. You’re alive, upstairs in bed with your woman. Keely’s downstairs, on your pullout with her man. This sitch has had an entirely different ending. You keep them close, brother, you’re doin’ Hound a favor.”
Snap’s chest heaved with the breath he took.
And Rush thought that him being able to stand there and do that was the best thing he’d seen in a decade.
“Go home,” he urged. “Rosalie’s probably worried sick. Get your truck. See to your girl. I’ll ride behind Hound. You’re covered.”
Snap took a second before he nodded.
Then he made a move.
Carefully, Rush reached out and grabbed his forearm, taking his hand away the minute Snap turned back just in case he was still jumpy.
“When you’re ready to talk, brother,” he repeated his offer.
He again left it at that.
Snap looked in his eyes.
“I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”
Hell yeah.
“You fuckin’ are, brother,” Rush growled.
Snap jerked up his chin.
And only then did they move out.
Naomi
Around seventeen minutes later . . .
She heard the crash, opened her eyes and lay still in her bed.
That moment of stillness was her undoing.
She did not get her hand to the gun that was resting on her nightstand.
Instead, she was dragged out of bed and beaten about the face, mostly pistol whipped, until he switched just to fists.
She felt two teeth go, her nose go, and she was glad she was barely conscious when he ripped her panties from her.
“Tack’s had this. Tack’s been all up in here. Now this snatch is mine,” he grunted.
There was still love, Mom.
Her eyelids fluttered.
If you got it in you to do one thing for me and Tabby, save us from you bein’ delivered to Chaos under a sheet.
She should have listened to her son.
She should have listened to her beautiful boy.
Now she was going to go.
And her two babies would mourn her.
She’d given them nothing to mourn.
But they just would. That was them.
They had so much of their father in them.
Her lids drifted fully closed.
And her last thought before she passed out was that she would never meet Playboy.
Tack
One hour, fifteen minutes later . . .
He swallowed the moan of her orgasm down his throat as he felt it throb around his cock.
Tack kept her head turned with his hand at her jaw as he took his finger from her clit but thrust inside from behind in the spoon, whispering against Red’s lips, “Love you, baby.”
“Love you, Kane,” she breathed.
He felt his lips smile.
Then he growled against her mouth as his cock exploded.
He kissed her gentle as he came down, his cock buried.
When he broke the kiss and opened his eyes, he was looking into hers. “Clean up?”
“I’ll do it, honey. You’ve had a long day. Pass out.”
She lifted her head to press her lips to his and he pulled out.
She rolled in his arms so they were front to front, shoved close, stroked his jaw, tugged at the long whiskers at the end of his goatee, gave him the squinty eyes of a soft smile, then she rolled away and he watched her bare, curvy ass stroll to the bathroom.
He fell to his back. Bent his head forward to relieve the tension at the back of his neck. Dropped it to the pillows.
His phone clattered on the nightstand with its vibration.
His eyes went to the bathroom as he grunted, “Jesus fucking Christ.”
He nabbed his phone, checked the screen, and saw he had a video text from Naomi.
His innards seized.
He sat up, swiping, pulled up the video, watched three seconds, and stopped it.
Cole.
Tabitha.
His phone vibrated in his hand.
He looked down.
Another text.
An address.
And the words: Alone. Now.
Another text: One single brother, she’s dead.
Cole.
Tabitha.
That was how it was going to be?
That was how it was going to be.
Not another brother would die.
Not another brother.
They’d lost one on Tack’s watch.
Resurrection had lost one to Chew’s shit.
This was going to get done.
Tonight.
He angled off the bed.
“Where are you going?”
He looked up at Tyra standing in the bathroom door as he pulled up his shorts. “Back out, baby. It’ll be a while. Be back soon.”
She looked to the bedroom door and back to him as he tugged up his jeans. “Is a brother coming up to get you?”
“Meetin’ ’em down in the city,” he lied.
He yanked on his tee he’d taken off half an hour ago, walked to her, grabbed her by the front of her neck and she stood solid, staring at him with big eyes.
“It’s over. Tonight,” he declared. “I love you. And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Kane—”
“You love me?”
“Yes.”
“You trust me?”
“Yes.”
He pulled her to him gently, using her throat, and he took her mouth.
She gave it.
He went at her hard.
She allowed him.
Then he let her go and tore off his shirt.
He handed it to her.
Her hand was shaking when she took it and put it on.
That would soon be over for her.
That fear.
It would soon be over for all of them.
He got a fresh tee, pulled it on, his socks and boots, and stalked to the door.
“Tack,” Tyra called.
He twisted to her.
“Come back to me,” she whispered.
He stared right in his wife’s eyes.
“Absolutely.”
He left the room.
Grabbed his cut.
And he was gone.
Rush
Twenty minutes later . . .
The call came first.
Rush opened his eyes.
He was in Rebel’s bed.
They were naked.
After what happened that night, coming home to a quick, rough, awesome fuck, they’d passed out.
He reached over his head to get his phone from the little ledge under the window there.
Rebel’s head lifted.
He looked at the screen.
It was Ty-Ty.
Middle of the night call from his stepmom.
Shit.
He took the call as Rebel scooted up his body.
“Hey, Tyra.”
“Your father is gonna kill me.”
Not shit.
Shit.
He sat up, taking Rebel with him.
“What?” he barked.
“He left,” she said fast, and a chill crept into Rush’s bones because since his father told him he wanted Rush to take over, he didn’t do dick without Rush. “I don’t know why. He took off. He did it fast. He lied to me about meeting a brother in the city. And he told me it was over tonight.”
“Goddammit,” Rush growled, pushing from Rebel and throwing back the covers.
“I don’t know where he went. I don’t know anything.”
“I’m on it.”
“Rush.”
He stilled, standing by the bed, hearing Rebel scurrying out, just because Tyra’s tone held so much fear, and he felt that fear shrivel his insides.
“I’m on it, Ty-Ty,” he whispered. “Promise. Believe me?”
He hoped like fuck he didn’t just lie.
“Yes, honey,” she whispered back.
“You’ll see him soon.”
He hoped like fuck that wasn’t a lie either.
“Okay. Later, Cole.”
She never used that name.
She used it now for a reason.
He was now not a Chaos brother.
He was his father’s son.
“’Bye, Ty-Ty,” he said gently.
Then he hung up.
“What?” Rebel asked, already in her weird see-through robe with nothing on underneath, but holding it closed with a hand at the front.
With her other hand, she was offering him his jeans.
He took them and tossed his phone to her.
“Code thirteen twelve, call Hop first. Then High,” he ordered and tugged them on. “Tell them Dad’s taken off and find out if he’s called them.”
She bent her head immediately to it.
The loud knock on the front door came second.
Both their heads whipped that way.
“Get dressed,” he growled, bending to snatch up his tee.
He pulled it on.
Another knock came.
Louder.
He reached across the bed to the ledge to get his gun.
Safety off, he stalked to the door.
She hadn’t had a peephole.
When they put in her security, she got a covered one that worked with her door.
He did not put his face to that fucker.
He stood with his back to the side of the door and shouted, “Who is it?”
“Core!” was shouted back. “Tack’s comin’ down the mountain! Beck’s following him. No other brothers we were watching mobilized. Including you. Something’s going down. Let’s go!”
Jesus, shit.
Thank God.
Throttle was following him.
They’d probably heard about Snap.
Headed out.
Covered Chaos.
Jesus, shit.
Thank God.
> He looked out the peephole, saw Core standing there glaring at the door, no one behind that Rush could see. He hit the security code, unlocked and opened the door.
“Gotta get my boots on,” he said after scanning behind him. “Be out, one minute.”
He walked back into the bedroom to see Rebel now in a little nightie and the robe thing.
She was holding out his phone.
“It’s High.”
He nabbed it. “High?”
“What the fuck is goin’ on?”
“Dad left the house. You get word?”
“No.”
“Make the rounds. Find out if he’s talked to anyone. Core’s here. Throttle’s on dad. We’re gonna be on Throttle.”
“Rush—”
“I’ll keep in contact.”
He hung up on a shouted, “Ru—!”
“Rush,” Rebel whispered.
“You’re going to Essence’s. You’re taking my extra gun. And you are staying awake with the gun close and your phone in your hand.”
She nodded.
“Shoes, baby. And a sweater at least.”
She rushed to do as told, yanking on a pair of jeans under her nightie, switching out the robe for a cardigan and tugging on some beat-up red Chucks while he dug his 9mm out of his bag.
It probably took her two minutes to do this.
It felt like it took her two years.
Core and him got her to Essence’s.
He heard the locks go.
Then Core got in his truck, Rush in his, and they rolled out.
Fifteen minutes later . . .
He knew.
He fucking knew.
They were heading to Boulder.
His body felt like it was made of lead.
He called High.
“What the fuck!” High roared as answer.
“We’re on the road, on the way to Boulder. I don’t know why he went alone. But I figure we gotta roll cool with this, High. We gotta go in soft.”
“Your mother,” High grunted.
He had to push it through the lump in his throat when he confirmed, “Mom.”
“I’m on it,” High said. “Brothers have already moved out, headed to the Compound since we didn’t know where the fuck we needed to be going.”
“I’m calling the cops.”
“No fucking way,” High bit.
“We need cover for our women while the boys move out, High. They’ll send squads. I’m calling Mitch.”
Apparently High saw the wisdom of this because he said, “I’m on Hawk and Sebring.”
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