by Malcom, Anne
His eyes flared at the threat in my tone.
“You didn’t think we wouldn’t do some investigating of our own, Detective Rickens?” I asked him. “Taking bribes from a man who is responsible for the majority of human trafficking in this world is a lot worse than hanging out with a few bikers.”
He had paled, but he seemed to recover quickly, tapping on the iPad he was carrying. He set it down in front of me.
It was a dead body. Full of multiple gunshot wounds. It was unrecognizable. He swiped again. More of the same.
“A few bikers who a responsible for this,” he hissed. “These people were killed with AK-47s, guns bought illegally from a criminal enterprise who calls themselves the Sons of Templar. These people were not criminals. These people were gunned down because of money, because of being at the wrong place in the right time.”
I leaned back. “Plenty more people are killed daily with guns obtained legally,” I replied. “You’re not going to get me by appealing to my morals or heartstrings. I know enough about death and suffering to know where the blame and the blood lands.”
He leaned forward. “Well, the blood is going to land everywhere. That’s a promise you keep fraternizing with these men.” He stood. “I’ll leave you to think about that.”
“I’m entitled to a phone call,” I told him. Despite the fact I was furious at Liam for what he’d said, I knew the fact we’d been gone for hours with no contact would be playing havoc on those volatile emotions of his. It would be playing havoc with the club. I guessed that was the point.
Detective Rickens smiled. “I’ll get right on that.”
Then he walked out.
Jagger
He did not know what to expect when he made the hour drive to the police station in thirty minutes.
He definitely did not expect to see Rosie leaning against a black SUV illegally parked outside, grinning and waving at him as he pulled up.
Hansen and the rest of club—save who were back at the clubhouse with Macy, the kids, Linda and all other people at risk—pulled in behind him.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
She pushed up her aviators. “Hello to you too. I’m here because I’m awesome, and you’ll agree in three, two,” she trailed off and glanced at the double doors leading into the police station.
On cue, the door opened and Jagger lost his breath as both Caroline and Swiss walked out, flanked by an asshole in a cheap suit.
Rosie quirked her brow at him. “Ready to announce my awesomeness?” she asked.
He didn’t answer because he was taking the stairs two at a time to reach Caroline. He expected her to flinch away from him, he deserved that, but instead she all but jumped into his arms. He exhaled for the first time in four hours. Then he inhaled Caroline.
He wanted to hold her for much longer than the handful of seconds that he did, but he had to do something else.
“You good?” he asked softly, holding her neck and inspecting her face for any signs of distress.
Nothing. Of course. As he was coming to learn, apart from when yelling at her friend for getting on a plane after getting shot, she was calm and collected in most situations. It made him proud. It also hit him deep. Because to remain calm in these kinds of situations, you have had to not only have experience in chaos but in things much worse.
She nodded. “Oh, I’m fine. I have a lot of new material for the way the DEA laughs in the face of US citizens constitutional rights,” she said, glancing to the man in the shitty suit.
Fuck, he loved her.
He faced the man, who was sizing him up, then the entire club staring him down.
He had to hand it to the fucker, he didn’t even look worried. Though he should be. He should be very fucking worried.
“You take my woman again without cause, you’re answering to me,” he informed him calmly.
“You threatening a federal officer?” the man asked with too much smugness.
“You bet your ass I am,” Jagger replied, grinning at him, slinging his arm around Caroline’s shoulder and walking them away.
Rosie was chatting with Hansen when they approached.
“Ah! The jailbirds!” she greeted Swiss and Caroline. She grinned at Caroline. “I’m Rosie, you haven’t had the pleasure. But let me tell you, I’m a big fucking fan. I think you’re awesome and my best friend is going to fucking lose it when I tell her that I met Caroline Hargrave. She’s a journalist too. Lucy Brooke.”
Caroline smiled back. “I’ve read her stuff. She’s talented. I hope I get to meet her one day.”
Something about the way she said that hit Jagger. Was she planning on staying? Even in the middle of all this?
“Oh, you will,” Rosie reassured her. Rosie said it as if she knew something everyone else didn’t. And she knew what everyone else didn’t about most shit, but not about this.
“We’ve got you to thank for getting us out,” Caroline continued.
Rosie nodded. “I’ve got connections. And, as Jagger was just saying, I’m awesome. I’m like Kim Kardashian, serving justice all over the damn place, with a great ass to boot.” She looked to Swiss. “Dude, I was so fucking sure you’d have an outstanding warrant in at least five states. But nothing. You disappoint me.”
He grinned. “I bury my bodies deep, darlin’.”
She rolled her eyes.
“How did you know they were here? And how did you get them out?” Hansen asked.
“I know because I know things. I got them out because I know people. And because from the shit we’ve been finding, we knew Mr. Crappy Suit was on the payroll. I only came to say hello, meet Caroline.” She glanced to her phone. “I didn’t exactly tell my husband I was going on a road trip. And he’s got the baby so he can’t exactly chase me this time. Children come in handy.”
She opened her car door, giving Hansen a more serious look. “Shit’s gonna get real soon.”
He raised his brow. “Shit is already real.”
She nodded. “You’re not wrong.” She eyed Caroline again. “We’ll see you soon for a drink, or a car bomb or whatever.”
And then she closed the door and drove off.
“I like her,” Caroline declared.
Jagger chuckled, someone finding it to be easy and real, tugging her into his shoulder.
“Let’s go home,” she murmured into his cut.
Home.
Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jagger
He knew something was wrong when he walked in.
Really fucking wrong.
He’d felt it in the pit of his stomach since Caroline had said she wanted to go ‘home’ yesterday. He felt joy so strong that it turned to acid. Because he wasn’t deserving of that shit. Caroline wasn’t. She shouldn’t be in the middle of it. She was. She didn’t resent him for it. Or for the last fucking fifteen years. She didn’t run, or act like she was a captive anymore. She called what he thought was her prison her fucking home.
And that soured inside him, even as he rode with her pressed to his back. Even as he fucked her hard all night, held her in his arms as she fell asleep and fucked her again this morning.
He’d left her with coffee and her laptop, she had stories to submit. Not this story, they’d stopped talking about that.
Hansen had called him into church.
Just him.
He felt the sour crawl up his throat.
It was time for it all to fall apart, because he’d just gotten everything he wanted back together.
“What?” he demanded, eyes on the way Hansen was holding himself, the way his hand shook ever so slightly as he reached for the bottle of Jack in front of him at the head of the table.
“They hit another club,” he said after a long gulp. “Likely while we were distracted trying to get Swiss and Caroline out. Fucking diversion tactic.”
Jagger swallowed acid. “Who?”
“Nevada.”
He took the bottle his presiden
t handed him. Took a long gulp himself. “How many?”
“All of them.”
He’d expected as much. But even expecting the death blow, it didn’t stop how it killed.
He took another swig.
Handed the bottle back to Hansen.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
There was nothing to say.
Words were weak and useless in the face of something like this. The only thing that worked were bullets and blood.
“He’s trying to send a message. Show us we can’t beat him in a war,” Jagger said finally.
Hansen nodded once. “That’s what he’s tryin’ to do. But we’re gonna prove that we can win any war.”
Jagger clenched his fists. “We fight him, we’re gonna lose more brothers. Forgone conclusion.”
Hansen nodded again.
“We might not walk away from this.”
He spoke the truth that was already written all over his brother’s face. This life, they knew every time they shrugged on their cut it could be the last time. It was something they accepted, it was the price they paid.
But this was different. It wasn’t a question of if a Son was gonna die, it was a question of who. Death didn’t discriminate just because you were wearing a cut, a wedding ring, because you had kids at home. That didn’t mean shit.
It cooled Jagger’s blood, that certainty. Any brother in the ground was a hit. Was a travesty. But the brothers who had finally gotten some kind of taste of sweet after choking down bitter for all these years...they were at risk of dying bitter. Whether that be a grave for themselves or for their families.
Jagger could not let go of the premonition that this wasn’t going to end without ripping families apart. Without ripping the club apart.
“We’re ridin’ out to Amber in the morning,” Hansen said by answer.
“Everyone?” He thought of Caroline, where she would fit in this. She was in danger now. Real fucking danger. This was going to get uglier. No one was safe. Wars they’d had with rival MCs had cut them. But other MCs knew the score, knew to keep the death to men who wore cuts, who chose this shit.
Fernandez was different. He didn’t play by the rules. He looked for the deepest blow. And it was obvious that the deepest blow was the women.
He needed to send her home. Away from this shit. But that didn’t guarantee anything.
“Everyone, Caroline included,” Hansen said.
“I’ll get her a car, get her back to Castle Springs,” he said instead.
Hansen shook his head. “You know that can’t happen, brother.”
Jagger clenched his fists. He did know it couldn’t happen for all the reasons that Hansen was thinking of in regards to the club. He also knew it couldn’t happen because for all of his honorable intentions, he couldn’t let her go. Caroline was under his skin in a different way than she had been when they were kids. He couldn’t fucking breathe without knowing she was safe. Without knowing she was at least unsafe with him. She was his. He was turning into a fucking caveman and he couldn’t help it.
“Yeah, that can’t happen,” he agreed.
* * *
Cade
“We can settle this like gentlemen, can we not?” the other voice at the end of the phone asked.
Cade clenched his fists. “We both know that neither of us are gentlemen,” he growled.
Fernandez laughed on the other end of the phone. “Ah, outlaw honesty, I do so enjoy it. It’s refreshing.”
“Cut the shit, you asshole,” Cade snapped. “We both know this is war. We both know there’s only one way this ends. It’s not with a truce. It’s not with surrender. It’s with blood, it’s until one of us is left standing.”
A pause on the other end of the phone. “I understand that what I thought might be a profitable friendship for us both turned into a minor problem I was content on ignoring, with a warning of course, until your club pushed it, so I have no choice but to take action.”
Cade’s blood boiled. “You slaughtered men and women. That’s not a fucking warning. And everything you are, everything you’ve done, makes it impossible for you to be nothing more than another unmarked grave.”
“Ah, so confident,” Fernandez mused. “Arrogant. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. I don’t relish a lot of bloodshed. So I will give you one last chance to enter into a deal.”
Cade didn’t say shit.
This wasn’t a deal with the devil.
He’d already made plenty of those.
“I thought as much,” Fernandez said as he took Cade’s silence for what it was, ‘fuck you’ in every language.
“You want this to be over. You fight like a fucking man.”
“This isn’t the Wild West, Mr. Fletcher,” he said, his voice smooth and cultured, as if that made him somehow fucking better. “There are no duels at dawn.”
“You gonna take the coward’s way out and send more men in to murder my men when they’re not expecting them?” he spat. “‘Cause that ain’t gonna work. We’re all expecting you. We’re ready.”
“I expect you are,” Fernandez sighed. “You want your war. You’ve got it. Be careful what you wish for.”
He got dead air.
Slammed his fist down on the table.
He stared at the empty table. At the gavel. It had been brought down many times, and it had continued through all the shit the club had been through. Even the darkest of times.
He’d been so fucking sure that the darkest times were behind him, that maybe even outlaws, even devils deserved sunshine.
The massacre of the New Mexico and Vegas charters were proof that they didn’t get sunshine.
And now this fucking phone call.
He. Was. Done.
Brock walked into the room. He clocked his expression immediately.
“Fuck,” he hissed.
Cade nodded. “Yeah.”
* * *
Cade held church. Got all the brothers in, all the brothers that had been to hell, not all of them coming back. He told them what was happening.
What needed to be done.
“We’ve got New Mexico arriving tomorrow,” Cade said. He looked to Steg. “Evie good makin’ arrangements for them? And the other charters who will be here in the next few days?”
Steg nodded. “She’s got it sorted. Got rental properties empty. She’s buying out the supermarket and liquor stores.”
Cade nodded once. “Good.” He was about to continue.
“I’ve got it,” Wire said, bursting into the room, holding his laptop, his cut hanging off him and eyes twitching. Cade didn’t want to know when the last time he ate or slept was. Or how many of those energy drinks he’d been chugging to stay up.
He had known how long it had been since the fucker showered, considered the smell spoke for itself.
But Wire had been working himself, literally, to the bone looking for intel, anything and everything to give them the upper hand. He was doing more grunt work than the men with guns. The way of the future, even outlaws weren’t immune to a war fought primarily with keyboards.
Everyone sat straighter.
“He’s coming here.”
Cade froze. “In Amber?” He had the sudden urge to sprint into the common room and lay his eyes on his wife, his children, just to make sure they were still there.
Wire shook his head. “Private took off from somewhere in Europe and will be landing at an airstrip on the other side of the country. Couldn’t get here for two days, if they hauled ass. Which they won’t.”
“How do you know that?” Cade demanded.
“Because they’re planning on meeting us at a warehouse twenty miles outside of Amber, got an encrypted message that said to be there at noon two days from now. A minute late, they’d march into Amber. It was heavily embedded in the deep web.”
Cade mused this. “They’re testing us.”
Wire nodded.
“This is a fucking trap,” Bull cut in.
/> “Of course it is,” Cade agreed. “But I think his promise on marching on Amber if we don’t show up holds true.” He looked to Wire. “He’s got a big entourage.”
Wire looked grim. “Yeah. A small fuckin’ army.”
Cade didn’t react. He had his own army. The rest of the clubs riding in wouldn’t get there in time, even if they hauled ass. They had families to protect, provisions to make. New Mexico would make it though. Two charters. Every one of his men was worth ten of those motherfuckers.
“We’ve got Southern charters riding in,” Brock cut in. “But won’t arrive in time,” he said, mirroring his thoughts.
Cade nodded. “He knew that. He’s been watchin’, waiting for this. ‘Cause he knows he won’t win on US soil. He can’t come in like he would in his territory. He couldn’t face off the whole of us. So he’s plannin’ on hitting the home charter. Makin’ an example.”
“Good thing we’re ready,” Gage said, cracking his knuckles.
Cade nodded once, even though he wasn’t sure how true that was.
* * *
Caroline
“What happened?” I rose as soon as Liam walked into the bedroom from church. I knew something was bad the second I saw his face.
He shook his head, taking my hand and dragging me into the bedroom.
The door slammed.
Yeah, it was bad.
I closed my laptop, the pit of my stomach finding a new bottom as I stood, kept my face blank and hoped that it wasn’t another death. That it wasn’t someone I’d come to like. To think of as family.
“Liam—”
I was cut off when he stalked forward. Something about the way he approached had me scuttling back until I hit the wall.
He didn’t hesitate in boxing me in.
Nor did he speak.
He grabbed the bottom of my tee, tore it over my head. I put my arms up to let him, they were shaking, my panties were soaked.
My bra was next.
Then my jeans.
