Darkest Hour (Iron Fury MC Book 3)

by Bella Jewel

  The nurse leads me over to the table and mutters, “Half an hour,” before disappearing into the garden with some other patients.

  I sit down across from my brother, and already his eyes, the exact same as mine, are piercing into me. “You got my fuckin’ attention,” he hisses. “What the hell are you doin’, Dakoda? Other than playin’ with fire. You have no idea what you’re gettin' yourself into.”

  “Firstly,” I growl, leaning in close, “you’re my brother, and if you’re goin’ down, I’m comin’ with you. What I’m tryin’ to do here is to make sure you don’t go down. Far as anyone knows, I’m you. No one knows you’re in here.”

  His brows go up. “What the fuck have you done?”

  “What is necessary to get you safe. Whatever shit you’re dealin’ in, it’s dangerous.”

  “It’s also none of your fuckin’ concern.”

  “Braxton, you and I both know I’m not backin’ down from this. I can walk out of here and do this on my own, guessin’ every step of the way, or you can have my fuckin’ back and help me. Tell me what I need to fuckin’ know. Tell me why the fuck you have fuckin’ weapons in your storage unit.”

  “So you did fuckin’ find them. You take anyone with you? Anyone else see those?”

  “No, and I don’t plan on involvin’ anyone else. I’m livin’ at your house, alone now, and it’s only a matter of time before someone comes lookin’ for you. At least, that’s what I’m guessin’, and I’d be right, wouldn’t I?”

  His jaw clenches, and I know damn well I’m right, because I look the exact same way when I’m backed against a wall with nowhere to go.

  “As I said,” I continue, “I’m your brother, I love you, but I’m goin’ to do this with or without your help, and there ain’t fuck-all you can do about it. Prefer to keep my life, so I’d prefer your help, but as I said, I’ll do it no matter what.”

  “You’re fuckin’ insane, Dakoda,” he hisses. “You have no fuckin’ idea!”

  “Then fill me in,” I growl. “Tell me what you’re fuckin’ doin’.”

  He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You’re goin’ to get yourself killed.”

  “Means you walk away safe, so be it.”

  “Fuck,” he growls. “Fuck. Right, I’ll tell you but only because I’m not goin’ to have it on my shoulders if you fuckin’ die. If you choose to go into this, know that risk is fuckin’ massive.”

  I nod. “What are the weapons for?”

  “I stole them.”

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck. Me.

  I wasn’t expecting that.

  That changes things.

  Fuck.

  “Why the fuck—that’s hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of weapons. Fuck me, what the fuck were you thinkin’?”

  “I wasn’t,” he barks. “I was scared, and at the time it seemed like a good fuckin’ idea. It wasn’t.”

  Of course it fucking wasn’t.

  “Start from the beginning and make it quick. We only have twenty minutes left.”

  “Started dealin’, way to make cash, get drugs, it seemed fine. New drug hit the scene, bigger dollars, but it meant dealin’ with larger people. I got into it, knew people, thought it would give me the cash I wanted. At first, it was fuckin’ incredible. I did a good job, got in deeper, got up higher, and started dealin’ heavier. But I was addicted and gettin’ into trouble, takin’ drugs when I was meant to be sellin’ them. Shit started spiraling and I owed some big people some big money.”

  God damn.

  “So, when the man running the show asked me to transport a shipment over the border for him, I agreed. Weapons. Big dollars. He was goin’ to pay me well for it. But I was never goin’ to fuckin’ give it to him. I was high, desperate, fuckin’ stupid. I thought if I stole the shipment I could sell it off. I’d be able to pay for the drugs I desperately wanted, pay everyone off, and walk away forever with a fuck load of cash. More than he was offering. I knew people, I had contacts, it seemed like a good idea at the time ...”

  “Not a fuckin’ good idea.”

  “I was high as fuck, addicted, and desperate,” he growls. “Understand, my brain wasn’t fuckin’ workin’ like it is now.”

  “What happened?”

  “I took it, hid it, and now I got people huntin’ my ass. Huntin’ me hard. Not only do they want their shit back, they want my head. I’m as good as dead. Day you found me, tried to overdose. Figured it was easier than enduring the torture they were goin’ to deal. Didn’t matter if I gave it all back and more. I was a dead man for the pure sake of it.”

  Fuck.

  This is far worse than I could have ever imagined. Far fucking worse. Right now, I don’t have a clear answer on how to get him out of this shit without risking both of our lives. I thought it was drugs, thought I could pay off the right people, fuck up the others, and get him out of it. But he’s dealing with big people. Top dogs. Dangerous men.

  “Who were you workin’ for?”

  “Don’t know his name. Just know they called him Shanks. Never met him. Never saw him. But he’s runnin’ a big operation. Fuckin’ deadly. Dangerous. He’s fuckin’ over mafia, cartel, motorcycle clubs, you name it, he’s tryin’ to fuckin’ take what’s theirs and he’s succeeding.”

  Fuck me.

  One man can’t take that kind of shit on.

  I don’t know what fucking options I have here except to fucking change his name and run.

  Might be the only way.

  No way we can take on something that size.

  “Leave it with me, let me see what I can work out.”

  “Not goin’ to work anything out, Dakoda. You simply cannot compete with somethin’ that size, I promise you that. You’ll die in the process.”

  “I said leave it with me. Right now, nobody knows you’re here. I won’t come back, in case I’m followed.”

  “They’re goin’ to kill you on sight. Get out of that apartment. If you have a chance, it’s that nobody knows you exist. Go home. Away from where they’re lookin’, and do your work from there. Don’t put your face out there. It’ll get blown off.”

  He’s right about that.

  “Got you. Loud and clear. I’ll do what I can.”

  I stand, looking at my brother and exhaling. “Fix yourself. If you can do anythin’ in here, fix your fuckin’ self, Braxton. I’m not riskin’ my life for you to walk out of here and get straight back into it.”

  He nods. “I hear you, and Dakoda?”

  I meet his eyes.

  “Be fuckin’ careful.”

  Yeah.

  Not sure that’s goin’ to matter.

  Hell, I’m not sure I’m fully aware of what I’m about to get myself into.

  But for blood, anything goes.

  -11-

  NOW – CHARLIE

  “Stop being such a baby,” I say, curling my fingers back around Koda’s arm and tugging it toward myself. “The more you flinch, the harder it is for me to clean this up.”

  “Quit fuckin’ bossin’ me around,” he growls, panting with pain.

  I glare at him. “I’d happily let you bleed to death, but I’m not going to do that because you risked your life for us. So, you can either sit here and carry on, or you can let me sort this out.”

  “How do you even know what you’re fuckin’ doin’? For all I know, I could walk away armless.”

  “Tempting,” I smile at him, and it’s full of sarcasm. “But, I actually know what I’m doing. Do you forget who I grew up with? I’ve seen worse. I’ve helped worse. Now sit still.”

  He sits still, one arm toward me, the other gripping a bottle of scotch that he’s swigging down every few seconds. I dab at his arm, trying to remove any dried blood but not irritate the wound too much that it starts bleeding again. By the time we got into Scarlett’s ranch on the hidden path, Koda’s wound had dried up. Which is good, because the bleeding slowed, but it also meant that I now have to gently try and
clean it.

  I dab it over and over with a warm, salty cloth. Cleaning the skin around it. I slowly remove the dried-up blood, revealing the wound beneath. Fleshy, straight through and out the other side. He still has full movement of his arm and hand, which means there is a good chance it didn’t hit anything important. That’s a good sign.

  I think about what happened tonight and how incredibly stupid I was. Not only could I have gotten myself killed but everyone else, too. Using that phone, answering it, hell even bringing it, was absolutely idiotic. Of course my father could track it, of course he could. I’m only lucky that it doesn’t seem to be him that got hold of the number but someone else wanting to cash in the hit. At least, that’s what Malakai said. Those two men didn’t seem to be involved, but they’re questioning them thoroughly anyway.

  In other words, they torturing them until they tell them what they need to hear.

  I know, I’ve seen how this all works, been in this situation before.

  It’s brutal, but it’s the way of life for them.

  “Tell me something, Koda,” I say, still cleaning Koda’s arm, trying not to stare too long at his biceps, and the way the muscle curves so beautifully to make his arm.

  Incredible.

  “What?” he grumbles, head turning, eyes locking with mine.

  My heart jumps.

  It literally skips a beat.

  “How come you’re so adamant on taking my father down?”

  His eyes flash with a pain and rage that I’ve not seen in another’s eyes before. Not even my own. It’s the kind of pain that goes right to your soul. There is more to the story—somehow, there is more. I just don’t know what it is. Has it got to do with his brother? Scarlett told me he had a brother who died. Did something happen in his life to make him obsessed with bringing people like my father down?

  Or does he know my father?

  That’s a terrifying thought.

  One I didn’t consider before.

  My lips part slightly, and I whisper, “You know him, don’t you?”

  He grunts and turns away. “No, I do not. I just fuckin’ hate people like that. Monsters that hide behind their power. They do more harm than good. They take innocent lives. They tangle people in their filthy fuckin’ web until there is nothin’ left. Wouldn’t matter if it was your father, or any other man, I’d want the same blood.”

  I’m not so sure I fully believe him.

  But it does make sense.

  “What happened to your brother?”

  It’s risky.

  An extremely risky question.

  But I had to share my entire story with him and his entire club tonight, so I’m sure he can give me a little information.

  “None of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts.

  Anger bubbles in my chest.

  I squeeze his bicep, and he hisses. I know it hurts, but I’m also done being treated like crap from this man.

  “I don’t know why you hate me so much, Dakoda,” I growl. “I don’t know, and I don’t care to know, but what I don’t appreciate is the way you treat me. For whatever reason, you have it out for me. I’ve done nothing. Nothing but help your club. I sat there tonight, and I bled my fucking heart out, do you think that wasn’t my business? That maybe I didn’t want to fucking share ...”

  My voice hitches and I release his arm, looking away.

  I will not cry.

  I will not let any of this beat me.

  I won’t.

  I take a few shaky breaths, and for a moment, we stand in pure silence. I wait for him to snap at me, to growl some curse and walk out. But he doesn’t, for a few good minutes, we just stand there, both of us panting. If he’d let me in, he’d see I house the same demons he does. We’re two peas from the same pod. Two damaged, broken souls.

  He just won’t accept that.

  He’s so wrapped up in his own pain, he can’t see anyone else’s.

  I understand that, I really do, but it doesn’t make it fair.

  “He got tangled up in the wrong crowd when he was younger,” Koda says, his voice low and deep. With shaky fingers, I keep swabbing at his arm. If he’s going to talk, I’m going to let him without interruption. “Became an addict, started sellin’ drugs to be able to purchase drugs. Got deeper, as they all do. Got more addicted, his brain more damaged. And he did stupid shit. Really stupid shit. Hit got put on him, and he got killed. He was young. Fuckin’ young, and he fucked up, but he did not deserve to fuckin’ die.”

  Koda’s voice becomes strained and my heart aches; it literally feels like it’s going to split right open. It makes sense now why he is so obsessed with helping me, and why there is talk that he goes around looking for people with hits on them, and if he finds out they don’t deserve it, he sorts it out. I heard Maverick and Malakai speaking about it. It didn’t make sense then; it certainly does now.

  He’s not obsessed with my father.

  He’s obsessed with the fact that I have a hit on me, and he doesn’t think I deserve it.

  Just like his brother didn’t deserve it.

  And he wants to take it down, because people like my father ruin innocent lives.

  “I’m so sorry about your brother, Koda. I know how it feels.”

  I stroke a finger over his arm, without thought, and he flinches a little, but doesn’t pull away. I was attempting to give him comfort, without even realizing it. For me, it’s been a very long time since I’ve tried to give comfort. Hell, it has been even longer since I’ve received it.

  But he held onto me tonight.

  When I ran to him and my fingers locked in his shirt, for a few moments I was a kid again, the little girl so terrified of her father, and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t let him go out of fear, I’d fall and never get back up. And he held me up. Intentionally, or because he had to, I don’t know but he did it, and because he did it, I didn’t crumble.

  “Sorry about your mom,” he says finally, his voice scratchy but not rough anymore.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, staring at the ground.

  “Never easy losin’ the only person you have left that you believe in. Bitter fuckin’ world out there without someone by your side.”

  Don’t I know it.

  “Yeah, you’re right, it is.”

  “You have anyone else? Ever?”

  I swallow. “I had Oliver, for a little while. Not in a romantic way, of course, I was only a teenager, but he showed me there was compassion out there, good out there, people that would risk themselves to help you. So yeah, for a while, I had someone.”

  “Then you lost out, again,” Koda adds, finally turning and holding my eyes.

  “Yeah, then I lost out again. But then I met all of you, so I figure you do lose out, but if you believe, you’ll always find again. I was lucky enough to be reminded that there was still good out there, even when I really didn’t want to believe there was.”

  “You’re lucky, then.”

  I frown. “You’ve never found anyone else?”

  “Got the club. Know they’re family. Know they’ve got my back. But if you’re askin’ if I’ve had a person again, one I trust, one who stands by my side and makes this fuckin’ emptiness in my chest go away, then no, I have not.”

  That breaks my heart.

  More than he’ll ever know.

  “I’m really sorry to hear that, because everyone deserves someone. Even assholes like you.”

  I give him a small smile to let him know I’m playing, and for the first time since I’ve been involved with this club, his eyes lighten just a touch. Not a lot, and he doesn’t smile, but his eyes lighten.

  “How is your arm feeling now?” I ask him, changing the subject.

  He holds my gaze for a few long, intense moments, then glances back at his arm. “Sore, but you did a good job cleanin’ it up. Didn’t think you had it in you. Was certain you were just takin’ on the job to give me some sort of infection out of revenge ...”

  I roll my eyes. “And
there he is, the ass we all know and love.”

  He grunts, but that lightness is still in his eyes, even if it is really hard to see.

  “Thanks,” he murmurs. “Appreciate it.”

  “Make sure you keep it clean and covered. It should drain and clear itself pretty well, there is no point in putting a few little stitches in it, most of the time they’ll pop out anyway.”

  He stands, and when he’s in front of me, looking down, he seems so big, so scary, so dominant, and yet I feel so safe in front of him. I want to take a step closer and bury myself in him, just to feel that comfort and safety.

  “Thanks again,” he says, looking at me with those eyes, and god if I don’t want to throw myself at him.

  “You’re welcome, and thanks for helping me tonight.”

  He nods, and then with one last lingering glance, he’s gone.

  I swallow and watch him go, and only when he’s gone and the room is vacant do I exhale.

  You cannot get attached to him, Charlie.

  You can’t.

  It’s that simple.

  ~*~*~*~

  THEN – CHARLIE

  I back myself into the corner, terrified. The man in front of me, he isn’t very nice, not at all. Father warned me that he might not be very nice. He warned me this job was a big one and I had to get it right or I’d suffer. But I don’t want to be here anymore with all these people at this party. Father knew there was a party going on, so he sent me to the house to ask for a phone.

  But this man isn’t as nice as all the others.

  He’s scary.

  With cold blue eyes.

  I don’t like him, not at all.

  “So you’re lost, are you little girl?”

  I push my fingers into the wall behind me, as if it’ll magically move. It doesn’t. But I really really want it to.

  “Y-y-y-yes. I can’t find my mommy.”

  “This late at night,” he murmurs, stepping closer.

  He’s got silver hair. With some black in it. And he’s really tall. So tall I have to tilt my head right back to see him. When he smiles and talks, his teeth are so shiny they hurt my eyes. They’re so white. I’ve never seen someone with teeth so white.