...or something: Ronacks Motorcycle Club

by Debra Kayn

  "My parents were murdered?" Her spine straightened in surprise over the information. "How do you know that?"

  He looked down. She scooted until she was almost on her knees in front of him.

  "I just do," he said.

  "My parents died," she said, urging him on. "I don't remember them. Social services never gave me any information, except it happened when I was little. Too little to feel the loss. I figured they died in a car accident. It happens to people all the time."

  "It wasn't an accident." He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "The man who killed them is involved in an underground Russian organization—"

  "Like the mob...or something?"

  "...or something." He cleared his throat. "Your dad and mom owned Pine Bar and Grill—"

  "Oh, my God." She covered her throat. "The bar in Haugan?"

  He nodded.

  "The owner." She stabbed her finger toward the window. "The older lady who hired me?"

  Battery nodded.

  "She thought I looked like someone she knew. Did she know my parents? Is that why you wouldn't let me work there?" she asked.

  Battery exhaled. "Bree, one question at a time."

  "Oh, my God," she mumbled. "My parents were killed. They owned a bar. The man who murdered them is in a Russian mob. Why did he kill them?"

  "Slow down." He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. "Your dad let the Russians use the back room at the bar for their private business. It became something other than what he thought, and it got your mom and dad killed."

  "Because this is a bad man and a bad group of people." Her heart raced. "That makes sense."

  "Bree." Battery released her hand and held her face. "The point is this man knows you survived the shootings, and he wants revenge. He wants to take out the last member of your family."

  Bree shook her head. "That's stupid. I don't even remember my parents or the murders."

  "I don't make the rules on how other people run their life. That's why I'm trying to get to the man before he can get to you." Battery's voice deepened. "Now, you know. I expect you to let me do my job."

  "What are you going to do with him if you catch him?" She shuddered. "Are you going to let the police handle it then?"

  "That's not your concern," he said.

  She blew her cheeks out and stared at him. In a gust of expelled air, she said, "This is my fault."

  "Bree, I just told you—"

  She waved her hand. "I know, but I went to the bar to get a job. The woman thought I looked familiar to her. She thought maybe I looked like someone off one of her television shows. I bet she's hooked in with the mob or the Russians, whoever that guy is with that wants revenge. I bet if you go talk to the owner—her name is Patty. She'll lead you right to him."

  "Maybe." Battery stood and walked over to the window. "Until I can get there in the morning, it's important that you stay inside, Bree. Don't give my men trouble and stop looking for a phone. You won't find one."

  "I won't." She stood and joined him by the window. Hugging him from the back, she laid her head on his leather vest. "I can't believe my parents were killed. Somehow, all this time, I assumed they were just dead."

  He turned and held her. "I'm sure social services thought it was best that you never dwelled on something you had no control over. They're gone, carny-girl. It's all the same. You grew up without them."

  "Yeah." She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. "I guess you knew all this because it happened in Haugan. That's so weird. I thought they were from Washington. At least that's what I figured since the state took over my care."

  He rubbed her back. "I think that's enough talk for tonight."

  She lifted her head and gazed at him. "You're tired?"

  "Beat."

  "Me, too."

  He lifted his chin and motioned for her to walk. "Let's go to bed and get you settled."

  She walked beside him and leaned against his side, her arm on his stomach. Inside, she felt blah and empty. Learning about parents she couldn't remember brought out emotions she was unfamiliar with, and she couldn’t claim it came from sadness. The thought that her parents lived, loved, and were murdered was no different than her assuming they'd died in a car accident.

  And yet, it was different. It was ugly. It was brutal. It was personal.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Two days after telling Bree who was after her, Battery walked through the back door into Pine Bar and Grill ten minutes before the place opened for business. At least Bree recalled the conversation with the owner of the bar about her looking familiar. Her information could give him his first lead on where to find the Russians.

  He'd left a voice message yesterday when the bar was closed, and the owners either hadn't checked or refused to call him back. He stepped around the walk-in freezer.

  The older couple who owned the bar stood in the kitchen talking about orders with a female employee. Battery cleared his throat to get their attention. And attention came quickly and recognizable.

  Patty reached for her husband's arm. The older man frowned. "The place is closed yet. Best be getting outside and waiting until the front door opens."

  "Not here for a drink." Battery approached them, glanced at the employee and said, "We've got business to discuss, and you'll probably feel more comfortable if your employees were nowhere around while I talk."

  The older man stepped forward. "Listen here—"

  "Now." Battery never took his gaze off the man.

  "Shirleen, go out and wait with the others. Give us a few moments with Mr...." The man's mouth tightened.

  Once they were alone, Battery faced Patty. "I want to know where the man is that came here and talked to you about my woman."

  Patty shook her head. "Nobody has been here."

  "Bullshit." He turned to her husband. "I want information, and if I get it, I'll leave you two to live with the fact that what you've done could get an innocent woman killed if I don't stop him. If you don't talk, I'm not leaving, and I don't think you want to find out what will happen when the rest of Ronacks come in here to find out what's keeping me."

  "John, tell him," said Patty.

  "We don't owe you information." John glared. "You and your friends always coming in here, starting trouble. We'd sell this place if we could, but they stop anyone who becomes interested in taking over."

  "Who?" asked Battery, knowing it wasn't Ronacks who visited the bar.

  Patty sniffed. "He goes by Boykov. We don't know where he stays when he's in town. It's not at the hotel, we've checked."

  "Think hard." Battery concentrated on keeping Patty talking. "What's he drive? Are there other men with him?"

  She nodded. "Two other men. They speak with a Russian accent."

  Fucking-bingo. "Car?"

  "I-I don't know," said Patty, looking toward her husband for answers.

  "Escalade. Black. You can't miss it in this town if they're still here." John put his arm around his wife. "Please, that's all we know. Leave my wife alone."

  With the information they handed over, he had a better chance at finding them. Battery schooled his features and held the older man's gaze. Three men driving an expensive car with foreign accents couldn't hide in Montana.

  "If they come back, tell them I've been looking for them." Battery stepped back. "They'll know where to find me."

  He turned and retraced his steps, ignoring the dingy walls, the same white tile with the gray flecks, and the smell of liquor and smoke that fed his nightmares. Outside, he inhaled the fresh air and strode to his motorcycle.

  Rod talked on his phone and held up a finger for Battery to wait. He pulled out a cigarette and never got to light the end because Rod stepped toward him motioning toward the phone.

  "I can't understand her, Prez." Rod thrust the phone at him. "Call came through on Mel's phone."

  He put the cell to his ear and Bree's crying constricted every damn muscle in his body. "Bree?"

  "Oh my God
, Battery. You need to come home," she said, sobbing through the words.

  "What happened?" He tilted his bike with one hand and started the engine.

  "Duke's dead."

  His jaw locked and he muttered, "How?"

  "Someone shot him," she said. "H-he's still bleeding."

  He motioned with his hand for Rod to go. "Where are you at in the house?"

  "Downstairs."

  His chest pounded. "Who's there?"

  "Swiss, LeWorth, Sander, Mel and oh God, I don't know what to do. Raelyn's at home and she doesn't know about Duke. There's blood..." Her voice gave out, and he barely picked up the last part of what she'd said.

  "Stay there, carny-girl. Do not leave that room. You stick by Swiss's side."

  She whined into the phone, and the ragged gusts of her breath filled his ear.

  "Promise me, Bree," he ordered.

  "Yes, yes, I promise. Please, be careful. Please."

  "I'm on my way. I need to hang up to ride." He disconnected the call, unable to wait for her to confirm she heard him, shoved the phone in his pocket, and hit Main Street in third gear and opened the throttle.

  He had no idea what he'd ride into at home or what was happening outside his house. He only knew he wasn't leaving Bree, and he'd damn well make sure nobody took her out of his life.

  Five miles out of town, he caught up with Rod. Passing his V.P., he glanced over and read the concerned look on Rod's face before he rode the other three miles to the road he needed to take home.

  He pulled over to the side of the road and cut his engine. Flagging down Rod to keep him from downshifting and making the Harley louder, he motioned his finger across this throat, and Rod cut the engine, coasting to a stop next to him.

  "What did she say?" asked Rod.

  "Duke's been shot." His jaw ached. "Says he's dead."

  "Holy, motherfucking Christ." Rod ran his hand down his face.

  "Hold it in, brother. Do it for, Duke." Battery took out his pistol and put it between his legs. "We ride in ready for anything. I don't know if everyone is in the house or what men are outside. If I go off what Bree told me, Mel, Grady, Dennis, and Grand could still be on guard or dealing with the Russians or Richard. Keep your eyes open. The men we're after will more than likely be driving a black Escalade and wear black clothes, don't fucking see a brother's vest and shoot because it's black. Keep your fucking eyes out for Richard and if he's in this mess, do not let him get away."

  "Nobody takes out a brother." Rod's jaw ticked.

  "It looks like shit just stormed on Ronacks." Battery put his right foot on the peg. "We ride with purpose."

  Ride nodded. "I'll lead the way."

  Battery opened his mouth to argue. He wanted to reach Bree but knew his MC brother's first job was to protect his president.

  "Let's roll and get the motherfuckers." Battery started his motorcycle and followed Rod down the road.

  Acutely aware of every motion and knowing his property, he kept his eyes on the trees, searching in the areas where someone could hide and have a clear shot. His adrenaline had him paying attention to the smallest details, and that's how he spotted the steady line of dark, red blood starting at the edge of the concrete driveway in front of the garage.

  "Jesus Christ," he mumbled, parking his bike, and heading straight to the door.

  Rod banged his fist on the wood. "Open up. Prez is coming in."

  Battery stepped around him and walked inside when the door swung open. His gaze latched on to Bree standing at the side of the pool table. Then he looked at the bulk underneath the blanket covering the table and walked the rest of the way to his woman.

  Bree dove for his chest. He held her tight and looked into each pair of eyes in the room. Every member reeled with the devastation and loss of their MC brother, one of their own, one of their family, and the grave situation. He held Bree together. His club had been touched by evil.

  Chapter Thirty

  The silence of death weaved between each member of Ronacks Motorcycle Club and wrapped the room in its cold hands. Battery held Bree's head against his chest and away from the sight of Duke's blanket-covered body in the middle of the room. His men looked at him on what to do next.

  "Besides Raelyn, Duke only had a grandmother." Battery's voice, while quiet, seemed to make the room throb. "She's in a nursing home in Missoula. Alzheimer's and a host of other problems that come with old age. There's no use contacting her because the news of Duke will only confuse her more on top of the pain we'd be laying on her shoulders. We'd be doing Duke a favor letting his grandma have peace, and I'll make sure her bills are paid to continue her care in the nursing home."

  Bree's body trembled. He blew out a steady breath, keeping it together for his club. The aftereffects of being separated from Bree when she needed him the most, left him shaken, his thoughts slow, his need to shelter down on high alert. It could be her laying on the pool table, face covered, no longer breathing.

  "Rod, if we can clean up Duke and the room, I'll have LeWorth and Choke ride over and pick up Raelyn in the truck. We must be vigilant because the danger to each one of us is still out there. When Raelyn gets here, we'll all let her have her time and then we'll ask her what she wants to do." He cleared his throat and held on to Bree. "She'll need to understand that there is only one choice in the matter. We'll bury him on club property and keep the information within the club. Then we all watch over her and make sure she doesn't talk."

  Bree pushed against him, her head shaking against his hand. He held her still. "Let's move on this before it gets too late and we're working in the dark."

  Mel stepped away from the meet-up first, rubbing his arm across his eyes. "I'll clean up outside."

  Battery looked at Sander. "Go with him. Everyone in twos."

  Heads nodded. He walked Bree over to the side of the room, using his body to block the sight of a dead Ronacks member from Bree's vision. He cupped her face. Her heartache evident on her face.

  "I'm going to ask you to be strong, carny-girl. Raelyn's your best friend and she's got a baby growing inside of her." He moistened his lips, taking the time to steady his pulse. "Our only concern right now is Raelyn and the baby. That's what Duke would want us to do."

  She blinked, sending fresh tears down her cheeks, and nodded. "This is my fault," she mouthed.

  He shook his head. It was only one man's fault.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered. "So, sorry."

  "Sh." He swiped his thumbs under her eyes, collecting her tears. "We got a job to do, Bree. You need to pull it together. Do this for Raelyn. Do this for Ronacks. Do it for me. Can you do that?"

  She sniffed and blinked heavier. "Yeah."

  "Yeah." He inhaled deeply, taking his own advice.

  Letting her go to test her promise, he watched her rub feeling back in her arms, her cheeks, her heart. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, put two in his mouth, lit the ends, and handed one over to Bree. "Here you go, carny-girl. Smoke it all. The cigarette will help you calm down."

  She sucked the smoke into her body and exhaled. Her hand trembled less. He stayed in front of her until she finished and put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the counter. Then he moved his body and let her see the room again.

  Bree's chin came up, and she steeled her jaw. He forced himself not to touch her, confident she had the strength inside of her to get through the rest of the day. His touch would only make things worse.

  His carny-girl. Born soft and made hard by life, she'd find out in the days to come that she had a strength she never imagined.

  "Truck coming," said Grady at the window. "They've brought Raelyn."

  Bree moved away from him and stood in front of the pool table, her back to the devastating and life changing news waiting for Raelyn. Battery closed his eyes a few seconds absorbing what he'd witnessed and proud of Bree, knowing she wanted to protect her friend in much the same way he wanted to protect Bree and his club.

  Death would co
me to all of them. Some, sooner than later. Some, more horrific than others.

  The door opened, and Raelyn walked in, felt the somber room, and frowned at Bree, looked at Battery, and put her hand over her nearly flat stomach.

  "What's going on?" asked Raelyn stepping further into the room.

  Not wanting to put off the news any longer and drag Raelyn through unnecessary pain, Battery walked over and guided Raelyn to the table and sat her down.

  He squatted by her chair. "We had some trouble today, sweetheart."

  Raelyn's neck straightened and she looked toward the pool table. Her second hint that something wasn't right reflected in the way her hand came out and gripped the edge of the table.

  "Where's Duke?" she whispered, looking back at Battery.

  He gathered her hands in his. "The trouble Ronacks has been dealing with came down hard on the club this afternoon. Duke was shot—"

  "No..." Raelyn's head shook side to side.

  "He didn't make it, sweetheart." He squeezed her hands, keeping her from striking out and hurting herself and the baby. "You need to think of the baby, Raelyn. Ronacks will help you. You're a part of the family. That baby will be surrounded by people who love you."

  "No." She tried to stand.

  He held her on the chair. "Duke would want you to take care of yourself. He told me yesterday that he was happy. He wanted to be a father more than anything, sweetheart. That's now your job to bring that baby into the world and make Duke proud. You've got to put everything you've got into taking care of Duke's son or daughter."

  "Duke?" Raelyn pulled against Battery. "Duke!"

  Battery let her go, stepped back, and watched her run toward the pool table. Bree never stopped her, but in an unusual move, put her hand on Raelyn's back as her friend pulled back the blanket covering her dead husband.

  Then, his woman held the weight of Raelyn as her legs gave out. Battery motioned Rod back when he stepped forward to help. Bree had moved forward and taken her role as the woman to the president and would handle the grieving process with Raelyn.

  A job she never asked for. A job he forced on her. A job that would either break her or make her unbreakable.