Chapter Ten
Rooster
“Psst, Rooster.” Ice’s hushed tone pulls me out of sleep.
Shelby finally seems to be resting comfortably and I hate to disturb her. Slowly, I extract myself from the bed without waking her and step into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind me.
“What’s up?” I stretch, wincing as my spine snaps and crackles into place with the movement.
“New York’s here,” Ice says. He lowers his voice and moves closer. “And Pants has some info you’re going to want to hear. In person.”
“Shoot.” I glance at the door. I really don’t want to leave Shelby, but she knows I was here and I wouldn’t leave unless it was important.
Ice lifts his chin at something behind me. I turn and find Murphy and Heidi walking toward us.
“Holy shit, you came too, Little Hammer?” I pull her in for a quick hug and mouth a “thank you” to Murphy over her head. While Shelby knows my brothers are here to protect her, I bet she’ll appreciate a bit of female companionship.
“Is she okay?” Heidi pulls away, staring up at me with worry dancing in her dark brown eyes.
“I think so. She woke up for a bit. Doctor says she needs to rest.”
“Wrath and everyone else are down in the waiting room.” Murphy jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Staff was a little squirrelly about having so many bikers here.” He and Ice share a laugh. “Ice said you might need to run out. Heidi and I can sit with her until you get back.”
Maybe I’m tired but the offer chokes me up. Murphy somehow knows. Sure, Ice is a brother—I can trust him. Hell, every brother in Virginia has helped me out in one way or another over the last few days. But I’ll be a hell of a lot more comfortable with a NY brother watching over Shelby while I’m gone. That way if she wakes up again, at least she’ll be greeted by familiar faces.
“Thank you, brother.” I pull him in and slap his back. “Really appreciate you coming all the way down here.”
“Not a problem.” He searches the corridor. “Where’s Jiggy?”
“Probably on his way to the airport. He’s picking Shelby’s mom up for me.”
Murphy raises an eyebrow.
“He promised to behave.”
“Yeah, okay. First time for everything, I guess.”
After all the tension and misery of the last couple days, I laugh a little. “You sure you don’t mind…being here?” I ask.
Murphy spent a fair amount of time in the hospital not that long ago. Can’t imagine he’s eager to hang around one now.
He snorts. “Thanks for the concern, but as long as I’m not the one in the gown getting my hair and beard shaved off, I’m fine.”
“Now that you mention it.” I squint and rub my hand over my own beard. “That ol’ chin curtain of yours sure grew back awfully fast.”
His mouth twitches. “Heidi says it’s because I have an overabundance of testosterone.”
I roll my eyes Heidi’s way. “Of course she did.”
She grins at me. “It’s true.”
“There is another possibility.” I scratch the side of my head, like I’m deep in thought. “He’s part Sasquatch?”
“Anything’s possible.” Murphy shrugs.
I open the door, checking that Shelby’s still asleep. Murphy claps me on the shoulder. “Fill me in on all your adventures when you get back. I won’t let anyone near her.”
“Thanks, brother.”
He and Heidi quietly tiptoe into the room and I close the door.
Ice nudges me down the hall toward the waiting room.
He wasn’t kidding. The room’s bursting with Lost Kings and friends of the club.
Anya leans up and quickly hugs me. “If Shelby needs anything, let me know, okay?”
It’s a kind offer considering Anya and Shelby have only met one or two times. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Rooster!” Wrath picks me up in a big bear hug—possibly cracking a rib or two in the process—before setting me down. “How’s she doing?”
“Better. She woke up a bit.” My lips twitch as I remember Shelby telling off one of the nurses who came in to check on her.
“Sorry we couldn’t get down here faster.”
I glance at the clock on the wall. “You made good time, brother.” My gaze lands on Trinity, standing slightly behind Wrath. “You came too?” I can’t help but be a little choked up that my brothers and their old ladies dropped everything to be here. “Thank you.”
Trinity squeezes me in a quick embrace. “No problem.”
Dex steps forward to hug me as well.
“Shit, brother, you have a lot on your plate at home. Thank you for coming down,” I say.
“You got it.” He slams his fist into his open palm. “Wish we’d gotten here sooner to help you find this guy.”
I glance around the room. Jackson has a way of blending in, and I don’t want to say anything he’ll overhear. “He’s on the loose right now. But Feds are on it.”
Dex’s face remains impassive. “Good to know.”
Griff shakes my hand next. “Whatever you need. We’re here for you, Rooster.”
“Jumping right into the support club gig?” I pull him in and slap his back.
“Nah, man. When we heard what happened…” He glances over his shoulder at Remy. “We just wanted to help out if we could. That’s really fucked up.”
It’s bullshit—Griff and Remy definitely want to know how far the club will go to protect what’s ours. Probably want to get a feel for being on the road with the club and visit one of our other charters, too, before they commit to forming a support club. It’s what I’d do in their position, so I’m not offended.
I flick a quick glance at Dex, who nods. Yeah, this might be a sign they’re moving closer to forming the support club. “Appreciate it.” I slap Griff’s shoulder, then Remy’s. “Thank you. Glad you’re here.”
Steer and Hustler try to crack my ribs next with their enthusiastic embraces. Guess I’m missed in New York. I rough my hand over Steer’s big, bald head and plant a loud, sloppy kiss on Hustler’s cheek. “Thanks for coming.”
“Z was frothing mad he couldn’t ride down with us,” Steer says carefully.
“I understand.” Without Z’s help, we wouldn’t have found Shelby so fast, so I’m sure as fuck not complaining about his absence.
“What a lovely family reunion.” Jackson’s sarcastic comment silences the room.
In a brave, bold move, he pushes his way into the middle of our group while slow-clapping his hands together. “Why exactly are so many of you needed down here?”
Wrath scowls and tosses a who-the-fuck-is-this-joker look my way.
Jackson scans us again. “Two different charters from New York, huh?” He tilts his head in my direction. “You must be awfully important to your club.”
Ice grips my shoulder. “Fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us.” It sounds more like he’s warning Jackson than explaining the basics of club life.
“Still, I don’t see any of your Mississippi brothers here?” Jackson makes a big show of checking out the room. “Florida?”
“Congrats, you’ve done your homework,” I say in a dry tone. “You in charge of the National MC Threat Assessment report this year or something?”
Wrath smothers a smirk and wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “This is purely a social call,” he says to Jackson.
Jackson eyes Wrath, then Trinity. His gaze skips to Steer. “Both of New York’s enforcers here.” He fake bites his nails. “Whoever will protect the club in your absence?” He finishes the dramatic performance in a high voice.
Jackson’s either a brave motherfucker or he has a death wish.
None of my brothers take the bait.
“Another New York brother and his wife are sitting with Shelby now.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “If you want to go harass them too.”
“I wouldn’t,” Remy warns with a big, cocky grin. “
Murphy’s an ex-fighter. He might fuck you up if you bother his wife.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jackson sneers. He scans our group again. “Where’d the other one go—Jensen? What’s he doing?”
“He left to meet Shelby’s mom at the airport.” I cock my head. “We need a hall pass from you or something? I’m plannin’ to stop by the men’s room next. You wanna come hold my dick?”
Everyone except Jackson laughs.
Ice nudges me and inclines his head toward the exit. I turn and follow him out of the room. We pass a few local cops who scowl our way but don’t say anything. Guess they’re the reason Jackson was laying on the asshole performance extra thick.
“Whoa!” Jackson calls out behind us. “Where are you two going?”
“Told ya.” I point toward the men’s room door. “I was only joking about holding my dick, Jackson. Didn’t think you’d take me so seriously. But, I mean, if you really wanna come watch…”
“Don’t get cute.”
Ice slaps his palm against Jackson’s chest and leans in close. “I understand you need to put on a show for the locals, but remember who you’re dealing with.”
Jackson backs away. “You need to tell me where you’re going.”
“I don’t answer to you,” Ice says. With that, he slaps Jackson’s chest with another crisp thump and heads toward the exit.
I follow Ice to the hog farm Pants owns, or partially owns. I’m not clear on all the details—only that it’s safe and often used as an interrogation or holding space for enemies of the Virginia Lost Kings.
Apparently, hogs will eat any evidence you toss them.
They also smell. At a certain point, a wall of stench slaps me in the face. There’s no amount of breathing through my mouth or holding my breath that makes it tolerable.
We pass an old house that’s seen better days. Ice keeps moving toward a smattering of barns at the back of the property. He slows and stops his bike in front of the last building, an aging, cavernous red timber number that would look more at home on Leatherface’s farm than Old McDonald’s.
“That’s quite a repellent you’ve got there,” I say as I walk up to Ice.
He laughs. “Man up, brother. That’s the smell of money.”
“Smells remarkably like shit.” I shake off the stench. “What was up Jackson’s ass back there?”
“Just flexing his muscles so the locals don’t think he’s on our payroll.” He shrugs. “Probably the most excitement he’s had in a while, so he likes to play it up.”
As long as their power struggle doesn’t impact Shelby, I really don’t give a shit.
He slaps my shoulder and steers me toward the large, wide doors. There’s a gap between them and Ice slides the right side open.
Daylight illuminates the inside. I’d say it’s been a while since the barn’s been used for its original purpose.
Cement floors and strategically placed drains would make the floor easy to bleach and hose down. Lots of iron hardware is bolted into the wood beams at a height more suited to restraining humans than animals.
Downstate has its own murder room beneath our clubhouse, so I recognize the purpose this building serves right away.
Martin Suggs is way in the back—a shadowy corner where Pants has Shelby’s kidnapper strung from the ceiling, his hands stretched over his head, his feet barely grazing the floor.
“Please let me down. My hands hurt,” he whines. Whether he’s addressing Pants or he hears our footsteps approaching, I can’t tell. More like he’s begging anyone within hearing range to set him free.
Pants ignores him and lifts his chin at me.
Martin dances on his toes, trying to turn his body around to see who’s coming.
“Were you worried about Shelby’s comfort when you stuffed her in her trunk?” I ask quietly, stopping directly behind him.
He smacks his lips a few times but doesn’t seem to have an answer.
“No, that’s right. You drugged her.” My fury explodes. I land one fist somewhere near his right kidney. My knuckles sink into his flesh and bounce free. He squeals and curls away.
He coughs and wheezes, fighting to catch his breath. “Your psycho friend cut off my finger!” he yelps as if that’s going to stop me.
“It’s just the tip.” Pants yawns and rolls his eyes. “Quit whining about it.”
“Did you bother to make sure she could breathe in that cage under your bed?” I slam my other fist into Martin’s left side.
He screams, frantically tiptoeing to the right where he’s stopped by Ice’s big, solid frame. “No escape for you,” Ice says in a cold, detached manner.
Martin gasps and scoots back a few inches, bumping into Pants.
“You weren’t concerned about doping her up.” I punctuate the sentence with another punch to Martin’s side. If he lives to see tomorrow, at least he’ll be pissing blood. “Making sure she wasn’t allergic to whatever you gave her.” Punch. Punch.
He screams and wails with each hit. “What are you talking about? She was safe in the box! I made it special for her.”
This time, I punch him in the gut. His knees sag and the ropes pull at his wrists, exposing his raw, abraded skin.
“She’s in the hospital, you fucking moron.”
Martin doesn’t have an answer this time. He’s too busy wheezing and trying to catch his breath.
Finally, the stupid motherfucker raises his eyes to mine. “But I love her. We’re meant to be together.”
I lunge for him but Pants and his tree-trunk arms catch me around the middle, barely holding me in place.
“Easy, brother,” he warns me. “The slug has info you might want.”
“Suggs,” Martin corrects.
Ice backhands him.
I glare at Pants. “What’s this piece of shit got to say that I give a fuck about?”
“You have to let me go,” Martin begs. “If I tell you. Promise.”
“I’m not promising you shit.” Calmer now, I grip a fistful of his hair and yank his head back. “You scared my girl for weeks with your psychotic letters. Then you dared to touch her. Take her. Hurt her. There isn’t a single reason I should let you live.”
I cock my fist back and he squeezes his eyes shut, straining to duck his head as if he thinks he can avoid the blow. “Someone helped me!”
“Who?” I release him and stagger backwards. My brain runs through the possibilities. Greg? Trent? I’ll gut them both and dump them on the side of the highway.
Shit, I left Greg at the hospital. What if he was involved?
No, Murphy won’t let anything happen to Shelby. She’s safe.
“If I tell you,” Martin begs, “will you let me go?”
“You don’t get to bargain here.”
He shakes his head, sweat pouring down his round face. “Don’t hit me anymore.”
I grab him by the throat and yank him closer. “If you don’t tell me, a few punches will be the least of your worries. I’ll torture you with every piece of rusty equipment I find in this barn until you’re begging for death. Something tells me you’ll break before I get to the castration tools.”
He flinches, then licks his lips. His gaze darts between Pants and Ice, as if pleading with them to save him.
Since that’ll never happen, I guess Martin needs some motivation to start talking. I unsnap the hunting knife at my side and hold it up to his face, letting him have a good look at the long, shiny blade. His eyes widen and his body twitches as he struggles to get away.
But death is his only chance of escape.
I drop my knife hand and poke the sharp tip of the steel blade into his groin. “I read every letter you sent my girl. You’re sick and need to be put down,” I whisper in his ear.
It’s taking every ounce of my control not to jam the knife into his flesh.
“Please,” he begs.
I dig the tip of the knife into his chin and push his head back until he meets my eyes. “Start talking or I start
cutting.”
Chapter Eleven
Rooster
“How do you want to handle Jackson?” I ask Ice once we’re alone outside.
“Don’t worry about him, bro.” He cocks his head. “You really want to turn him over just to get this bitch?”
I run my hands through my hair. “I don’t know. I can’t exactly ask Shelby what she wants to do. There’s a good chance the publicity it’ll bring will make her life difficult.”
“Ninety-five percent of this is on Martin. He didn’t have that much help,” Ice points out.
“I know.”
Ice shrugs. “Then again, we can always get to him later. You might not be able to do the deed yourself if he’s inside. We’ll have to contract it out. You cool with that?”
“We’ll see.”
He slaps my shoulder. “Let’s load him up. If you change your mind, we can always come right back.”
“Thanks.” I stop Ice with a hand to his chest. “I mean it, brother. Everything you’ve done to help me get her back. I was supposed to be down here to help you out, not calling in your favors with the Feds and dragging you into something—”
“Please don’t get weepy on me, Rooster.” He pats my chest. “I’m glad we got her back. Z was a relentless motherfucker.” His lips twitch into a smirk. “Guess I won’t get to poach his VP after all.”
I snort at the suggestion. “You got a solid team here.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder in Pants’ direction.
“I have a good crew,” he agrees. “You’d be an excellent addition.”
It’s nice to be wanted, but if I ever leave downstate it’ll be to go Nomad, not move to Virginia.
T-Bone rides up, his engine drowning out any more conversation. He shuts down his bike and saunters over. “What’re we doing with this fool?”
“Handing him over to Jackson,” Ice answers.
T-Bone raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? You’re all right with that, Rooster?”
“He didn’t act alone.”
“Well, fuck. How you plannin’ to explain his injuries?”
Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC Book 17) Page 9
