by Kay Maree
I let off another round, this time closer to where he’s standing. He jumps back and ducks, calling me a crazy bitch in the process. With a hand that shakes more than I care to admit, I raise the gun and aim it at his chest, forcing myself to say the words I wouldn’t hesitate saying to any other arsehole.
“I’ll fucking let one off in your chest if you don’t leave now.”
He hesitates, torn between complying with my demand and making another move to disarm me. My finger squeezes and I feel the trigger give a little under the pressure.
“You don’t get a warning shot, Slade. Fuck off, now!”
His lip curls a little as he spits, “Watch your fucking back, princess.” Then he’s gone from the barrel’s aim as another shot releases from the chamber.
The front door doesn’t get to shut before it’s slammed back open and Bishop fills the space.
“What the fuck, Slade? I’m here doing you a favour so quit being an arsehole!”
The blood drains from Bish’s face when he looks at me. His hands are on my shoulders a beat later.
“Shit, Tova, what the fuck just happened?”
He takes the pistol from my hand and juggles it a little when he realises it’s still hot.
“He just fucking attacked me. He left in a shit, then came back and, and… I almost shot him.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I was going to shoot him, then you turned up.”
Bishop wraps his fingers around my bicep and leads me to the couch then pushes me into the seat. Without question, he strides into the kitchen and starts opening and closing cupboards. When he finds a bottle of vodka, he drops it in my lap while slapping his phone against his ear.
“Boss,” he barks. “You’re gonna want to get your arse over to Tova’s. Get the boys to lock Slade down as soon as he arrives at the clubhouse.”
The pause of Bish listening is filled with me taking a sip of Smirnoff and hissing away the burn.
“I’ll explain once you’re here. Right now, I need to call a locksmith.”
There’s no sign off, and I know that Griz will already be on the move. I look into Bishop’s anger-filled face as he plucks the bottle from my hands and takes a swig.
“I thought he fucking loved me,” I whisper.
Bish offers the bottle back but doesn’t let go when I grasp it. “Love makes men do fucked up things, Tova. You’ll be wise to remember that.”
I scoff and pull the bottle from his grip. I don’t give it back as I walk over and lift my pistol off the bench, checking that I did, indeed, let off four rounds. Bishop is on the phone to the locksmith, stressing the urgency of the job and adding a healthy wad of cash for incentive while I go to my room and replace the spent rounds.
So stupid. So fucking stupid from the moment I lowered my guard around Slade. I knew what torment a man like him could inflict, but never in a million years did I think he would turn on his own like that. It wasn’t just me who Slade crossed; he also crossed Griz, and all the other brothers in the club, and he would now pay with his life.
“Tova!” Griz yells and I’m snapped back to the present.
There’s a clink as my fist closes, and I realise I’m still holding a palm full of bullets. Quickly loading them into the chamber and clicking it shut, I step into the doorway.
Griz halts and tosses Slade’s discarded cut over the back of the couch. “Fuck! Slade did this to you?”
I nod as he steps into my space and tilts my chin, eyeing the deep finger marks that must be visible on my neck.
“He’s a fucking dead man,” my brother growls.
There’s a shuffle behind us as the locksmith chooses this moment to show up and hesitate in the doorway. Bishop handles the situation by extracting a stack of fifties from his pocket.
“Nothing that a little money doesn’t un-see and unhear, right?”
The guy drops his gear and pockets the cash. “Un-see and unhear what?”
“That’a boy,” Bish smirks.
Griz turns his attention back to me and propels me into my room, shutting the door firmly behind us. “Spill, Tove, and don’t skip a fucking detail.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Slade
“Dead man walking,” Butch leers as soon as I’m through the door of the clubhouse.
I’m not in the mood for his shit—even less than I normally am. I’m cocking my hand back ready to punch him in the fucking nose again when I’m grabbed from behind and forced to the ground. I feel my Glock get taken before my wrists get bound together.
“What the fuck are you boys doing?” I growl and fight against their restraint.
It’s Colt’s voice in my ear. “Sorry, Slade, boss’ orders.”
“Like fuck it is. Get your fucking hands off me!”
Today has officially broken my tolerance for how much bullshit I can handle in one morning.
“He ain’t shitting, Slade. Boss called it twenty minutes ago.” Ruck grunts from the force it takes to pin me down.
That was soon after I left Tova’s place. “Someone had better start explaining because I’ve got no fucking idea what the hell is going on,” I roar.
I’m pulled to my feet with my arms yanked high behind my back, then Butch pulls his Glock and jams it under my chin.
“You just sealed your death, arsehole,” I hiss.
Butch leers closer. “Maybe I should do everyone a favour and blow your fucking brains out on the spot. Might give me a shot at that pretty little piece of arse you have back ho- FUCK!” he roars when I throw my head forward and headbutt him in the nose.
“Shut your fucking mouth. I swear I’m going to cut off your fucking tongue for all the shit you’ve been spoutin’.”
Butch smirks through the blood trailing down his face. “Yeah, we’ll see about that. Take him to the lockdown room!”
I don’t make it easy for them. In fact, I feel a third pair of hands added to the fight before I’m shoved into the lockdown room and cuffed to the very chair I’ve restrained countless arseholes in to dish out some motherfucking love.
“Now what?” Colt puffs as Jet immediately leaves the room.
Ruck straightens his cut and the movement reminds me that I’m without my own.
“Put Tiny on the door. No one gets in or out until Griz gets back.” He then turns to me. “You’re in the shit, Slade. I hope the choice you made was worth it.”
“What the fuck is everyone talking about!”
Ruck narrows his eyes. “The attack on Tova this morning, and both her and Bishop identifying the guy as you.”
The blood drains from my face, leaving me lightheaded and seeing stars. “Attack on Tova this morning? When?”
Ruck tilts his head. “As if you don’t already know.”
“I fucking don’t!” I roar, needing answers right fucking now. I strain at the cuffs, already knowing that many men before me have tried the same thing and failed every goddamn time.
Ruck raises his hands. “Hey, all I know is that Tova was attacked and you ain’t gonna see daylight again. Sorry, brother. It’s been a blast.”
Colt eyes me with his jaw clenched. He doesn’t believe the rumours; I can see it in his expression. He’s not convinced that I would pull a stunt like this.
“You know I didn’t fucking do it, Colt. You fucking know!”
Colt jolts when Ruck lightly backhands his arm on the way past, and he silently follows Ruck out the door. The door is closed on my shouted threats and abuse, and it’s only when I hear the deadbolt slide into place that I save my breath.
Christ, what I wouldn’t give for a goddamn smoke right now. I’m getting twitchy just thinking about a fix. I don’t know who’s been talking in Griz’s ear, but they’ve fed him a load of bullshit that I’m wearing the brunt of.
And my bet is on fucking Butch.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Tova
“Are you absolutely sure, Tova? What you’re saying complicates the
fuck out of things. Slade has been my brother for years. There’s no fucking way I’d give him VP without being one hundred and twenty percent sure he was legit.”
Griz is pacing the kitchen now that the locks are changed and the contractor has left. Bishop is leaning against the bench, watching our exchange with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I wouldn’t have believed it either, Boss, but I saw it with my own fucking eyes. I never thought I’d see the day when he, of all brothers, turned on you.”
Griz growls and clenches his jaw. Bish and I share a glance, knowing that this was tearing my brother apart. Slade was a trusted hierarchical member of the Hades Horsemen, and now he’s a traitor with a target on his forehead.
I push off the nearby wall and ball the front of Griz’s cut in my fists. “I’m so fucking sorry, Dominic. I know how much he means to you.”
The hard lines on his face soften from the name I don’t use anymore; it’s only ever been ‘Griz’ since he became Pres.
“Not as sorry as I am. I fucking sent him to you, thinking you were safe with my VP. Go pack a bag. You’re staying at mine.”
“What about Indie?”
“Fuck,” Griz growls and tugs his hair. “She’s at a friend’s place right now so we’ll deal with logistics later.”
“I’m meant to be working today,” I hiss, now aware that I also had places to be and shit to do.
“Like fuck you are.” Griz’s attention is already on Bishop. “Go ahead and do a sweep of my place. We’ll be twenty behind.”
Bish nods, already on his way out the door.
“Tove, go.” Griz’s voice is unusually calm like he’s just made a decision of how he plans to handle this mess.
“What about the intelligence?”
“That can wait.” He snatches the new keys off the bench and rings one off, adding it to his own keyring.
There’s a feeling of disconnect as I walk to my room and shove a whole lot of random shit into a duffle bag. By the time Griz is locking my apartment and swinging my bag onto his back, I’m settled again and back to my badass self.
Our booted footsteps echo down the corridor. We walk quickly, fully alert to our surroundings, tracking any movement around us.
Vincent’s door opens and he steps out then freezes upon seeing me. I’m sure he pales fifty shades as he stammers for something worthless to say.
“T-Tova. You’re looking…” He swallows heavily. “Well.”
Griz pulls his Glock and aims it at Vincent’s forehead. I smirk sadistically at the guy’s instantaneous fear.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Peewee?” Griz snaps.
Vincent fumbles for his door knob without taking his petrified eyes off Griz.
“I was only trying to be nice instead of saying she looks, er… not like her usual self.” He tries to shrug like it was no biggy, instead he looks fucking spastic.
“Whatever.” Griz tucks his pistol into his waistband and nudges me towards the stairs. “Let’s go. What the fuck is up with that little twerp?”
I scoff and focus on where I’m stepping. “He’s a nerd with a thing for hard-arse bitches like myself. He rubbed Slade up the wrong way, too.”
The memory of Slade slips out before I can stop it. He’s still naturally in my thoughts, and deep within my heart.
I shake off the nostalgia—it’s sentiment that gets people killed. That’s the reason why I need to harden the fuck up, and also why Griz knows what he has to do when he gets his hands on Slade. It’s cruel and not for the weak, and it’s a necessity in order to survive in a world that is very much ‘kill or be killed’.
Griz still doesn’t speak when we reach his Harley that’s practically parked in the front entrance to the building. Once I’m settled behind him, he takes off down the street heading to his place.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Slade
There’s movement outside the door and the deadbolt slides. Griz then fills the doorway and he’s pissed. He doesn’t even wait for the door to close before he strides over to me and lands a boot to the centre of my fucking chest.
The chair topples back from the impact and my head cracks against the concrete floor with force that sends my head spinning. My hands are crushed under the chair, and my weight on them is enough for the bones to threaten to break.
Griz stands over me and aims his Glock at my forehead. “Do you know how hard this is for me? You were my most trusted brother, Slade. I’ve a mind to put a bullet between your fucking eyes so I don’t have to beat the shit out of you before I kill you.”
“It wasn’t me, Griz. I fucking swear I’ve been set u-”
The first blow from his fist cracks against my cheekbone and snaps my head to the side.
“That’s what every guilty motherfucker says.”
“It’s the fucking truth,” I roar. “I left Tova’s pissed because she was digging up shit about my family. My birth family,” I add when his eyes narrow. “That was after I specifically told her I didn’t want to know a single fucking thing about them. And what do you know, your fancy little intel room holds more than just the town fucking secrets!”
Griz grunts as his fist ploughs into my jaw. I work it a couple of times to ease the ache before I continue.
“I couldn’t stand the fucking sight of her, so I called Bishop to watch her for the day. I left. I fucking left her alone for five minutes.”
The haymaker to my stomach was deserved. I’d fucked up big time and didn’t need Griz to verbalise that fact.
“I stopped to buy more fags, then turned up here to Butch running his mouth, and now here we are,” I puff.
“Why is Tova so interested in your birth parents all of a sudden?”
I spit a wad of blood onto the floor beside my head. “Now that I’d like to know.”
Griz steps away and paces the room, running a hand through his hair and beard. I’ve witnessed these actions before; he’s thinking, processing, determining his next move.
“Tiny!” he shouts.
The door immediately clicks open.
“Pick him up.”
Without a word, Tiny fills my vision then the world tilts and spins as the blood rushes from my head. I grunt and move my wrists; they’re sorer than they should be. With a flick of Griz’s hand, Tiny leaves us alone again.
Griz bends into my space and snarls, “You do understand why I can’t believe a word you say, right?”
“I never took you for a goddamn fool, Griz, until this fucking moment. Go on, put that fucking bullet in my head and we’ll see how long it takes for you to realise how much of a mistake it was.”
I see his fist coming; at least he’s done me the favour of not using brass knuckles. Still, my head snaps back and my ears ring from the jarring impact. I only realise he’s gone when I hear the deadbolt click into place through the sound of my own ragged breathing. I’ve got to him though—I fucking know I have. Planted that seed of doubt and cultivated it just enough to have him second guessing what he’s been told over the last few hours. Sure, I’m a little roughed up, but that’s nothing from the likes of Griz. He’s renowned for acting now and asking questions later, so the fact that he listened to me was nothing short of Hell freezing over.
Regardless of the small mercies, I’m still fucking fuming that I’m on lockdown.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Slade
I rouse with a startle and immediately feel eyes on me. I don’t like being caught off-guard, and I’m none too pleased about Colt getting into the room without me noticing.
He’s leaning against the wall by the only door to the room—the one that is closed again. He remains motionless apart from his eyes searching my face for the answer to the questions I know he’s been asking himself.
“Like what you fucking see?” I slur and close my eyes again.
Colt shifts closer and bobs in front of me. He’s close but not close enough to be s
pat on or headbutted. My patience is wearing thin as he takes his sweet time in talking. Finally, I crack a lid and eye him suspiciously, seeing the knife he casually taps against his bent knee.
“What do you want? What?” I bark.
He doesn’t flinch, simply continues to stare until I’m about to fucking lose my shit. When he eventually speaks, he’s the most serious I’ve ever heard him.
“There’s talk amongst the brothers. They’re divided, either believing you did it or adamant you didn’t.”
“No shit,” I deadpan.
“To be honest, I’m not fully convinced either way. Could you have done it? Sure. Would you have done it…” He tilts his head from side to side, undecided with his rhetorical question.
“I didn’t fucking do it.”
“Griz is torn. He’s pacing like a caged lion while he waits for church to convene.”
The snippet of information catches my attention. Colt must have dropped that little crumb on purpose.
“When is it?”
He flicks his wrist. “Ten. The only ones not coming are you and Bish.”
“Where the fuck is Bishop?”
Anger curls in my gut; I already know he’s with Tova. Bishop is the obvious choice to guard her—he’s loyal, level-headed, and his ability to observe is impeccable; it’s the very reason why I called him to guard Tova for me today.
Colt continues to twist the knife against his jeans.
“You don’t have long then.” I puff.
His eyes meet mine. “I know I fucking don’t. I’m trying to decide if losing my life is worth the shot at saving yours. Best case scenario, it all flies under the radar.”
