by Ana Jolene
Choking laughter filled the line. “Well, I hope you at least got a good orgasm out of it.” Indy laughed again like she could see my wide smile through the phone. “You never know what surprises you could find once you get to know him.”
“He’s quite adamant about keeping his secrets to himself,” I argued.
“Just try.”
“Fine.”
With that, Indy hung up, but her advice still swirled in my mind. What would happen if I gave Lucky the chance to explain what happened that night? Would he open up or would we have another fight like the one we just had?
When the phone rang again, I picked it up. “Hello?”
There was no response.
I pulled the phone away from my face and checked that it was working. “Hellooo? Indy, is that you?”
Silence.
Giving up, I put the phone down and meant to start on dinner when the shrill sounds of the phone ringing rented the air once again. “Dammit.” Who the hell could it be? “Hello?” On the other end of the line, there was a soft sound, as if someone had placed his or her hand over the mouthpiece. “Is anyone there?”
More silence followed. Creepy. Just like the last time in the street market when I thought someone was watching me, a crawling sensation skidded across my spine.
When I was eighteen, wild nights at the club were quick ways of learning how to trust your gut. If something was about to go down, there was a small two-second window where your instinct knew. That was how I felt now. I knew something was going on. I just hadn’t figured out what yet.
Filing that under “Seven has lost her mind” in the back of my head, I busied myself in the kitchen, hoping that the next time I saw Lucky, we could finally settle the shit between us once and for all.
Lucky
A smile spread across my lips as Bronson sat before me, this time flanked by two men. I guess he’d smartened up and had brought bodyguards.
Knuckle sat at the head of the table, the rings on his knuckles reflecting the light from the candles. This meeting would potentially become one of the most important ones we’d have, depending on how the voting would go.
Everyone had had time to think about Bronson’s proposition. Though Glory MC hadn’t encountered anything like this before, there was no question that there was more to lose if we didn’t do this.
The prez cleared his throat loudly before addressing the crowd. “Let’s cut straight to the chase, yeah?” He glanced at everyone in the room, gaze settling on Bronson and his men. “All in favor of merging with Ward Three?”
My eyes locked on Bronson before me. His military-style cut and hard eyes gave him a “don’t mess with me” vibe. Naturally, it made me want to poke at him some more. See what got him to twitch. Lots of guys put up a front, but when it came down to it, kittens had more courage than these pussies.
A question lingered there in his eyes. His steely gaze silently asked, are you strong enough to take us on? Hell, if he was asking that now, it was a little too late.
Glory MC had received its fair share of hits. Losing Newt in the battle against the Phantoms had started it all, initiating a series of attacks on one another with escalating severity. Bronson’s men wouldn’t hold a fucking candle to the light that Newt brought into Glory MC, but there was no doubt that the former vice-prez of Glory MC would’ve seen the vital importance of strength in numbers.
I’d been the latest to become a fully patched member. Years of being a prospect and having my hide taken out of me had gotten me to this spot, but I had earned it. Now here were these men, hoping to join forces with us in name, without any proof of their loyalty. Maybe it should be me asking Bronson if they were strong enough to run with us.
However, the undeniable truth was that without Ward Three, we would suffer, as would they. Though this alliance seemed completely off the tracks of normal procedure, it was the smartest move for all parties involved.
Eyes still locked on Bronson’s in challenge, I raised my arm, only realizing later that I’d been the last to place a vote. My brothers around me nodded in agreement when Knuckle reached out a meaty forearm and clasped palms with Bronson. “Welcome to Glory MC, brother.”
THIRTEEN
History in the Making
Lucky
A week had passed since the merging with Ward Three. Bronson and all his men now sported a support patch, a variation of The Tempter symbol, just without the full top and bottom rocker. It signified their unity with us, but also differentiated them from the fully patched members of Glory MC.
Many were still adapting to the changes that were happening within the club. Trust would always be an issue, but as long as Bronson kept his own men in line, Glory MC and the new recruits could make this work. It was a gamble, but one always had to take risks when the stakes of the game were high.
Hastie and I were working on our bikes when he received a call from Bronson. “A what?” he exclaimed. His brow drew down and seriousness consumed his facial features. Whatever he was being told couldn’t be good news. “Are you sure?” His expression when he snapped his phone shut didn’t ease me. “You won’t believe this.” Surprise was evident in each word. “Bronson has reported that he may have found a possible Phantom hideout.”
“For real?”
“Looks like. It’s been under surveillance for a few hours now. They’ve got visual confirmation inside.”
“Does Knuckle know? This could be a big break.”
Hastie had his phone in his hand, already dialing. “I’m letting him know now. If he gives us the green light, be ready for some raids tonight.”
I perked up. Because the Phantoms never stayed in one spot for long, this little tidbit of information had to be acted on quickly if we wanted to attack. “Where is it?”
“Off the north end of Ward Three. That’s how Bronson was able to find it.”
That was pretty far to travel on motorcycles. “Then we better make a decision quick and ride out.”
“I’m on it,” Hastie said before turning away and speaking into the phone.
A buzz was running through me like a live wire. This was a good thing. A very damn good thing. With this lead, we had the potential to wipe out the Phantoms in one full sweep. The idea alone was enough to have me buzzing.
Hoping for more good news, I realized that I hadn’t checked in with Lennon for far too long. While Hastie spoke to his father on his phone, I reached for my own and called Lennon.
At first, there was just a series of long rings. But then a sleepy voice answered and my heart lurched. She sounded so much like Ma, it hurt. “Hello?”
“Lennon, baby. How are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Dex treating you all right?”
“Dex is great. He took me out last night. We had dinner.” There was no mistaking the smile in her tone.
“That sounds like fun.”
“It was.”
“I’m glad.” It was nice to know that the man was holding onto his promise. Yet even then, the big brother inside of me couldn’t help but worry. “But I want your word that you’ll tell me if something ever happens between you two again. If you fight—”
“It’s okay,” Lennon assured me. “Dex would never hurt me. He loves me.”
“I know.” The man had gone above and beyond what our own blood had done for us.
“And I love him.”
“Right.” Dex was a good guy.
Lennon paused and then asked, “Are you hearing me, Lucky? I said I love him.”
“Yeah, I know. Wait. You what?” Did she just say—
“I love him, Lucky,” she repeated. “He and I are romantically involved.”
No. no. That wasn’t possible because—“He’s way too old for you!”
“I know,” Lennon said, that stubbornness showing through her words. “And I don’t care. Dex has been there for me since I met him. At first, I enjoyed his friendship, but now, after the overdose . . .”
Motherfucking hell, Lennon had
an epiphany and had gone and fallen in love! “Are you having sex with him?” The thought of Dex’s filthy hands on my sister was enough to get me wired up. Had this been happening while I was staying with them?
“No. I wanted to talk about it with you first.”
Great. She hadn’t yet but that didn’t mean she didn’t plan to. Forget that. I had to nip this before it got out of control. “I’m coming to see you.”
But instead of freaking out like the old Lennon would, she surprised me. “How about we come there?”
“You want to come here?” I echoed in disbelief.
“Yeah. I’ll bring Dex with me.”
Whoa, what was happening here? It felt like someone had replaced my sister with someone more responsible and all grown up. I’d been ready once again to throw away my responsibilities to the club for my sister, but her suggestion might even be better than my own. “All right,” I allowed. “But I might be out of reach for a couple of days.” If we got the go ahead from Knuckle, Glory MC would be riding into Ward Three at top speed with guns blazing. I didn’t know when I’d be able to check in next. “But I’ll give you a call when I’m back, okay?”
“Okay, that’ll give us some time to pack. But where are you going?” Concern laced her words.
“I’ll be fine, that’s all you need to know. If you need anything, remember Dex is there to help you until I get back.” I had to make sure she knew I wouldn’t be gone for long. That she wasn’t alone in this world. The second she had any doubts, she could very well fall back into herself. Into the darkness and into the drugs again. “You gonna be okay?” I asked when she remained silent.
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, Lucky.”
“Good. I’ll give you a ring when I’m back.”
“I can’t wait.”
Hastie snapped his phone shut and shot me an impatient look. “Okay, gotta go. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
* * *
Not even a full hour later, we were on the move. Glory MC rode tire to tire straight into Ward Three, wearing our cuts on our backs and a look of angry determination. The press of the pistol tucked into the waistband of my jeans was reassuring, but there was still a spark of doubt about all this. We had put this all together quickly. Who knew what Glory MC would be riding into once we reached there?
As we crossed the barrier signaling our entrance into Ward Three, I could physically feel the anxiety swirling within me. Catching the eyes of several of my brothers, I saw the same spark of anticipation light their eyes. Glory MC was thirsty for blood, the taste of redemption within close distance. My nostrils flared as caged aggression rattled against its bindings like a bull waiting to be released.
The engines cut one by one as we stopped in front of Bronson’s clubhouse. The route to Ward Three was scenic to say the least. I hadn’t seen this much vegetation since before the flares. It was almost startling to see the growth of produce and grain sprouting from the ground, whereas Ward Four was completely devoid of it. Though I knew much of it was genetically modified, it was still fascinating. Wonder and amusement were brief flashes of emotion on all our faces. Even Kitt had paused to pick little fruits off the branches that were hanging off the side of the road. “They’re good,” he had said with a smile as he chomped down on one of the bright red apples and tossed one towards me. I caught it before it clunked me in the head and bit into its tough skin, revealing a juicy center. I moaned at its sweet flavor. It had been too long since I had had a taste of it. The nectar dripped down the length of my arms as I bit into it again.
I could only imagine the euphoric looks on the faces of the people of Ward Four if we showed up with this. By the looks of it, many of the members of Glory were thinking the same thing. So far, the alliance with Ward Three was proving to be a good thing.
Bronson stood in front of the clubhouse, bulky arms crossed over his chest. Firm determination took up his entire expression. He sent a nod in my direction as we approached. “Come on,” he said. “We can’t wait for long.”
“Any new activity?” I asked as he led us to the other side of the weatherworn building.
“Not much. But that could change any minute.”
As we turned the corner, barbed wire and sheets of metal created a makeshift fence to seal off this side of the structure. For a second, I wondered what all the extra protection was for until a series of large armored cars were revealed.
“Are we riding in those?” Beck seemed surprised.
“Yeah. Figured we should be prepared for anything.”
The armored car was like the ones previously used in wartime. Massive tires that nearly came up to our waists and thick, impenetrable armor decorated this two-man vehicle. I couldn’t fathom how Bronson managed to get his hands on these, but it was still impressive to see them all in a line.
Beck’s face drained of color and unease rolled off him in great waves. “You straight, bro?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” he said, but his eyes revealed his lies.
“I figure one of my men and one of your men in each would be best, what do you think?” Bronson asked.
“Works for me,” Knuckle announced. I was already stepping up onto it, eager to get moving.
Hastie moved to pull out the assault rifle strapped to his side. “Got your firearms?”
When I flashed him my pistol, he shook his head. “Take this.” Taking the rifle he held, I climbed the rest of the way up. “And don’t forget to suit up.”
I arched a brow. Now this was getting serious. Hastie caught my look. “I’m not willing to lose what little brothers I have left,” he explained.
Over his shoulder, Kitt approached, wearing a bulletproof vest and a bandana wrapped around his neck. “Are you serious?” We were already in a motherfucking tank. What other protection did we need?
“Take the damned thing.” Kitt shoved the vest and bandana hard into my chest. Reluctantly, I accepted the gear even though it wasn’t how we usually did things. With the vest on, I felt a hundred times heavier and the bandana tied around my neck made me feel claustrophobic.
A guy named Zeb, one of Bronson’s men, introduced himself to me, informing me that he was going to be my partner for the night. I noticed that his eyes, the color of whiskey, never stayed in one spot for long. I was grateful for his alertness because he’d be watching my back tonight.
Anticipation trickled through my body as the members of Glory MC geared up, situating themselves into the armored cars and set off, slowly, but no less determined.
“Please tell me you know how to drive this.” It had been a hell of a long time since I drove anything other than a motorcycle and Indy’s Chevelle.
The corners of Zeb’s lips tipped up. “You scared?”
“Hardly. I just want to make sure we actually get there in one piece.”
“Trust me. I want to get there just as quickly as you do.”
“Doesn’t this go any faster?”
“Eighty is it. But be glad it’s not some cross-country trip we’re making. This baby won’t make it over forty.”
I harrumphed. Didn’t exactly give us many options then, did it? I eyed the interior. It was a little more spacious than I imagined, but with my six-two frame, it was close quarters. Zeb and I would be good friends after this.
“There it is,” Zeb said as the vehicle slowed to a stop a while later. The building before us was just like any other grimy building on this street. The lights were on, but set dim, and the stairs running down the length of one side of the construction told me that there were at least two exits to the structure. We’d have to surround the place to make sure no one escaped.
“Go up,” Zeb instructed. I frowned, not understanding until he reached up and revealed the open-topped turret. Warm air rushed in and I was forced to stand, bringing my firearm with me as I made sure to cover my face with the bandana.
One glance and I knew we had the place surrounded. More armored cars
formed a ring around the building, my brothers also standing in the turrets of their armored cars.
Knuckle’s lips were set in a grim line, the dark brows dropping low to cover his eyes as he scanned the building. We all waited with bated breath for his signal to shoot.
My eyes caught a flicker of activity in one of the upstairs windows. It was just the slightest of movement, a swish of the tissue-paper thin fabric draped over the windows to create privacy. But Knuckle didn’t need any more convincing. With an arm raised, he made a slashing movement and I fired.
The tut-tut-tut of my rifle joined the symphony of violence as we lit up the night. The weatherworn exterior was no match for the bullets as it pierced right through. My mind was too high on adrenaline, no doubts or worries about Lennon taking up vacancy in my head. It was just about one thing and one thing only: taking out our enemy.
One by one Glory MC ceased their firing as bits of the interior were exposed by our onslaught. Some, like me, climbed out of the protection of the armored cars and approached on foot. If people were still inside, they would’ve been shot dead. If not, we would make sure that was the case when we stormed in.
The doors were now feeble impressions of barriers. As we kicked them aside, we searched every goddamn room in the building but came up empty. “Where the fuck are they?” I asked. There wasn’t even a single dead body.
Bronson cursed. “They must’ve known we were coming.”
“Fucking hell.” All this for nothing?
Hastie’s grim eyes met mine. “It looked too still to have anyone inside.”
Beck kicked a chair in frustration. “Now what the fuck do we do?”
“This had to be one of their hideouts,” Kitt, Glory’s other sergeant at arms, said. “Take a look at this.” He pointed to one of the many tables in the building where hand drawn maps of Ward Three and beyond were laid out.
“Plans,” I muttered.
Hastie nodded. “Looks like.” He glanced up, eyeing our surroundings. “Keep searching. See what else you can find.”
We split up, going through every little inch of the building, gathering evidence that may lead us to find them again. When the night carried on into early morning and the heat began to intensify once again, we called it done and over. Someone must have tipped them off and given them a chance to run away. It was lucky for them, but damn did it suck for us.
