by Kay Maree
I scoff.
Colt stands with decision. “Worst case… I’ll see you in Hell, brother.”
He works fast, slashing the cable ties on my ankles then picking the handcuff locks at my wrists.
“I’m going to fucking regret this,” he mutters around the pick between his teeth. “This is the fucking plan. I go and knock Tiny out…”
Again, I scoff.
“Then you help me drag his big arse in here. You hide until church starts. I go in, nothing out of the usual, then you get the fuck out of dodge. Hear me.”
I nod, adrenaline already surging through my veins, knowing we only had one shot to pull this off undetected. All it takes is one brother to be late for church and we’re fucked.
I stand on shaky legs and stretch out my back. Colt pushes past me but I grab his shoulder before his hand lands on the door handle.
“How’d you get in here?”
He smirks and indicates to the empty bucket nearby. “Said I was bringing you a piss bucket.”
“Hey,” I turn him back to me when he moves to leave again. “You trust your gut?”
Colt looks me in the eye and nods.
“Good. See you on the other side.”
“See you in church next week, VP.”
I shove him at the door. “Always were a smartarse little fuck. Time to get shit done.”
I move out of sight as Colt slips through the door. Soon after the deadbolt turns, I hear a muffled thud then something heavy as fuck (Tiny) hitting the other side of the wood.
The lock disengages and Tiny’s limp body tumbles in when I pull the door open. Colt still has his knife raised with a look of surprise on his face. “He went down easy!”
“You didn’t fucking knife him, did you?” I hiss then grunt as I grab the big fella’s arm.
Colt grabs the other. “Fuck no. Just popped him on the back of the head with the butt.”
“This is fucking insane,” I mutter then point to Colt. “Get your arse to church before people start asking questions.”
At a guess, I had a half-hour window, but that wouldn’t get me far since riding off on my Hog was going to get me noticed. I would have to push it a block before starting her up.
“Where’s Tova? Hers or Griz’s?”
Colt’s brows rise. “You’re not thinking of going to her, are you? That’s a fucking death wish.”
“Where!”
“Fuck! Griz’s place,” he snaps and hurries around Tiny’s mountain of a body.
He pulls the door shut without a backwards glance, and for a split second I think he’s going to pussy out and lock us in. When the deadbolt stays silent, I breathe a short sigh of relief while reaching for my pistol.
Fuck. Of course they took it; rule number one of locking a cunt down is that, first and foremost, you remove his weapons. As if that wasn’t bad enough, they’d also taken my fucking cigs!
I snatch the pistol from Tiny’s holster then make sure it’s ready to use at a moment’s notice. Cracking the door enough to get a clear view of the secluded corridor, I check my watch. Three minutes until church is called to order. Most members will already be seated, but there’s always one or two stragglers getting a last-minute beer. Given the circumstances of the meeting, I doubt anyone would dare be a second late, but I can’t afford to take unnecessary chances.
I wait another five minutes just to be on the safe side before slipping from the room and locking Tiny inside.
I know full well that the hunter has now become the hunted, and the ghost period will be short lived.
The corridor is clear.
The rec room is clear.
The meeting room door is shut.
I’m stepping into the bar area with the pistol raised when I see movement.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Slade
Fuck! I swing and line the person up in my sights. Minnie freezes and snaps up her arms, a second before I drop mine.
“Christ, Min! Did you see me at all?” I urge in a rushed whisper, hoping she gives me the right answer.
She shakes her head. “No, not at all. I was busy out back cooking.”
“That’a girl, I owe you.”
Those words I seldom say—I don’t like owing anyone anything. That’s how you get caught up in shit you don’t want to.
“Slade,” she whispers when I reach the sliding door.
I turn just enough to see her out the corner of my eye.
“Go get her.”
With a nod of acknowledgement, I slip from the club house and stay low as I run for my Harley. As soon as I’m at what I think is a safe distance, I start her up and grit my teeth when the motor sounds too fucking loud over and above the passing traffic.
Time is now of the essence; if someone heard my Hog start from this distance, they would already be running for their bikes. I gun it into traffic and open the throttle hard. It’s almost a twenty-minute ride to Griz’s house from the club house by car. On a bike, however, it’s been done in seven during the early hours of the morning when traffic is non-existent. Noon on a Saturday is a whole different ball game.
I reach the outskirts of Griz’s place in twelve minutes. Eleven minutes too long in my opinion, and I still have to leg it across the open paddocks that surround his property and through the established bush that hides the house from the road. I know he’s got security up the fucking wazoo, but I helped install that security and I know how to disarm the entire ensemble if I need to.
I sprint across the backyard and check down two sides of the weatherboard house. I have no idea where Bish is, but chances are he’s hanging inside with Tove. I make my way along the shaded side of the house just to double check my hunch, and sure enough, the front is unmanned.
Creeping onto the front deck and avoiding the middle step, I try the door handle and am not surprised to find it locked. Making my way to the shed, I push through the door, already knowing it’s never left locked. In the bottom of the custom-built mechanic’s pit, there’s a hidden exit at the far end. Ignoring the steps, I jump straight in and wrench the jammed door open. It’s a tight fit getting my shoulders through the narrow space, but I know exactly where it leads and which internal trap door to take.
Pulling the door closed behind me, I’m plunged into darkness briefly before my phone illuminates the narrow tunnel. I’m not great with tight spaces, but with Tova in mind it keeps me focused without thinking about other shit.
I pass the first trap door above my head; that one opens into the kitchen pantry. I also skip the second; that’s Indie’s room. The third is Griz’s room. I push against the boards above my head and need to shove hard for them to budge against whatever the fuck he has stored in his wardrobe. Something topples and lightly bumps against the hangers as I climb up into the dark space.
Before I bowl into Griz’s room, I take a moment to exercise caution. Pistol raised and ready, I crack the door then emerge when I’m satisfied the room is vacant. The entire house lies quiet apart from the lounge, and that’s the room I leave until last.
Bishop’s murmurs then Tove’s curse and giggle reaches my ears. A spike of jealousy weaves through my veins; Bish has a missus at home, but fuck if it doesn’t piss me off that he’s all cosy with my woman.
I train the Glock on Bish as I slip into the room. He notices me right away and is standing with his own pistol pulled within a blink.
“How the fuck did you get in here?”
I ignore him and seek out Tova, growling when she backs up a few paces.
“Tova, we need to talk.”
A defiant glint hardens her features. “Like hell we do.”
“It wasn’t me, Tove!”
“Slade, I need to call this in, brother,” Bishop cuts in.
I snap my attention to him. “Move and you’ll get a bullet in your knee. They probably haven’t realised I’m gone yet, but they’ll be here soon enough.”
“Who helpe
d you? There’s no way you could have escaped lockdown without help.”
“Doesn’t matter. Now shut up so I can speak to my woman.”
Tova throws up a hand. “It’s not going to make a difference, Slade.”
I don’t miss the unmistakable edge to the way she says my name, obviously still smarting over my arsehole comment earlier this morning.
“What in the ever-loving fuck makes you think I would attack you?”
Bishop closes ranks, keeping his pistol challenging the aim of mine as Tova flicks an arm my way.
“You wanna know? Let me see,” she lists on her fingers, “there’s the fact that he looked like you, knew my name, smelled like you, and oh, he was wearing your fucking patch!”
“The one you threw in the goddamn corridor?” I yell.
“Yes!” she screams back at the top of her lungs.
I glare at Bish to keep his distance as I take a step towards Tova. “Hand on heart tell me that you wholeheartedly believe it was me, without a fucking ounce of doubt.”
She hesitates. It’s no more than a missed beat in time, but that single fucking beat is all I need to know that she isn’t one hundred and ten percent sure I was the one who attacked her.
“Exactly what I fucking thought,” I growl.
“Slade,” Bishop snaps and moves towards the window, leaning to look out while still keeping me in aim.
I ignore him, needing to get through to my woman. “Babe, you gotta believe m-”
“Slade!” Bishop hisses.
“Now the fuck what?”
He eyes me carefully. “Did you come alone or with company?”
My plight with Tova instantly falls away. “Alone. Why?”
Bish looks outside again. “Thought I heard somethin’.”
It’s then that the pressure sensitive alarm on the middle porch step gets triggered.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Tova
“Get the fuck down, Tova,” Slade hisses as he crosses the room to Bishop’s side in a flash.
Without question, they form one unit, moving together seamlessly like they’ve done so many times before; habits so deeply ingrained that Slade’s reaction was pure instinct. They immediately forget their conflicted interests and realign, uniting as brothers to pinpoint the threat.
I tuck myself into a corner of the room, making sure I can see both the window and the doorway while having two solid walls at my back.
I watch in awe as Slade and Bishop stalk across the room then take up position at the doorway that leads into the kitchen. Slade uses a few precious seconds to look back at me. His face is swollen and bruised, and I have no doubt that it was Griz who inflicted the damage. Regardless of his injuries, Slade’s eyes remain bright and wild, already in the zone for what he needs to do.
“Stay down, stay out of sight, no matter what. If shit goes south, you know where to go.”
I know he was referring to the underground tunnel Griz had installed soon after he bought this place. Slade was the only other club member to know about it, and that must have been how he entered the house undetected.
I hardly acknowledge his instruction before the lethal duo slip from the room. The subtle, high-pitched tick of the alarm is shut off moments later, allowing my hearing to readjust to other signs of movement.
Two minutes ago, everything I ever doubted about Slade dissolved in an instant. My resolve over his actions this morning cracked when he stood before me and swore black and blue that it wasn’t him. My heart believes him, my head, however… so fucking stubborn.
There’s the odd footstep or a subtle click of the tongue as Slade and Bishop work their way through the house. I hear the front door open then softly click closed.
Now that I’m alone, tension is mounting in my veins and the unshielded sense of danger is making me twitchy. I readjust the pistol in my hand and keep it trained at the door. Slade flashes past and his breathy whisper reaches me.
“Tova, here.”
I’m at the door without question and take a cautious peek both ways before I slip from the safety of the room, following the man who once vowed to protect me with his life.
I catch the flash as he disappears into the office opposite Griz’s room. There’s a moment of hesitation in my bones; I don’t know why he would be leading me in there when the underground tunnel links to Griz’s bedroom.
My heart is in my throat as I hasten into the office as silently as I can in boots. The door shuts behind me as soon as I’ve cleared the threshold.
“What the fuck are we doing in here?” I pant.
Slade turns on me and my heart plummets. The same feral, unhinged ice has returned to his eyes and everything about him is menacing. He slaps the Glock from my hand before I can raise it, and my hair is fisted for the second time in hours. When hurried footsteps track our way, he turns me and slams my back against his front then jams his pistol under my chin. I hear Bishop softly call my name—he’s searching for me.
Slade chuckles at my back and inhales deeply into my hair. Revulsion unfurls in my gut as my jaw clenches. I don’t know what he’s waiting for, but the moment the door is kicked open, I feel like I’m having an out of body experience.
Slade stands before me, pistol raised, shoulders and chest inflated, and eyes burning with hatred so pure I can taste it. Only, nothing is aimed at me—it’s all directed over my shoulder.
“Slade?” I whisper, rapidly connecting dots and missing pieces of intel.
His eyes flick to mine. “It’s Kalem, little bird.”
My heart painfully splinters in two. I was wrong, so fucking wrong about him. It wasn’t Kalem who attacked me, it was…
“Who the fuck are you?” Slade spits to the man at my back.
A deep rumbling laugh vibrates against my shoulder blades. “Not how I imagined meeting my big bro, but what the fuck ever.”
Bishop appears behind Slade and stops dead. “Holy shit!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Tova
Slade’s face pales, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him visibly shocked. There’s a tremor in his arm that isn’t normally there and his swallow looks as painful as it sounds.
“I don’t have any fucking siblings.”
Bishop steps closer to Slade’s back, letting him know he’s there for him.
“I’m going to ask you once more. Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?” Slade grinds out from between clenched teeth.
The amused voice from behind me makes goose bumps prickle over my neck. “Your brother, Kalem. Guess our mumma left with more than just your sweet childhood memories, eh?”
“Arsehole,” Slade roars and lunges forward, only to halt when I gasp at the hold wrenching on my scalp.
Slade’s name breathes from my lips and his grey eyes lock with mine. “Did you know?” he murmurs.
I try to shake my head. “I didn’t.”
His eyes flick over my shoulder. “What’s your name?”
“What the fuck do you care?”
“So I know the name of the arsehole I’ll be sending to Hell,” Slade sneers.
A low snigger is close to my ear. “Kodax.”
“Why?”
“Why the fuck do I know why that’s my name. Because it fucking is!”
I see Slade’s tolerance running out. His chest heaves with each inhale and Bishop shifts slightly, ready to shoot at any given moment.
“Why is Tova on a goddamn hit list?” Slade roars.
“Business. People pay a mint to keep their hands clean. Mine however… I don’t give a fuck.”
Slade refocuses his aim on his blood brother, and Kodax sniggers. “I don’t think you’ve got the balls to do it, so you’re going to watch this pretty little piece of club arse get a bullet.”
“Your first mistake was coming after my woman, your second was underestimating me.”
Slade’s eyes turn dark a split second before two shots go off, an
d I drop to the floor in searing pain.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Slade
Blood explodes as Tova and the world’s worst surprise fall to the ground. I know my blood brother is dead; the bullet I put between his eyes confirms that without me needing to check.
The stabbing pain in my chest hasn’t eased since the moment I clapped eyes on him. The visual gut punch from seeing myself before me was deeply disturbing. It was like looking in a mirror; a mirror that reflected the darkness that lingers inside of me.
I don’t feel a fucking thing—not an ounce of remorse as I kick his large body away from Tova’s. Bishop’s at my side without hesitation to help move his dead weight.
Then I’m falling to my knees beside Tova. There’s so much blood and I can’t determine whose it is. It’s only when I cradle her in my arms that her head lolls back and I see the bullet wound. It’s clipped her jaw and taken a chunk with it.
My fingers slip through the blood as I try to get a clear view of the damage and I’m thankful that the impact has knocked her out cold; getting shot hurts like a bitch.
I hardly hear the rumbling of a pack of Harleys in the background, yet, I know Bishop has left my side to welcome Griz home to a blood bath. Running boots thunder through the house and Griz slides to his knees next to Kodax’s body and screams my name.
“Griz,” I grit out.
His eyes snap to mine and he jolts, does a double take, then his face darkens when he realises Tova is unconscious and bleeding in my arms.
“Christ, Slade! What the fuck!” He doesn’t give me time to answer when he roars, “Call a fucking ambo,” over his shoulder.
Tova’s eyelids flutter and she groans through her unconscious state when I press my palm to her jaw.
“We need to lie her on her side!” Bish yells and shoves his way into my space.
He’s right; Tova’s breathing has become laboured but I don’t want to let her go for a goddamn millisecond. After a brief standoff, Bish helps me position her on her side where I can continue to keep pressure on the wound.
