by Sophia Gray
For a quick second, I let my mind wander to Jamie. Her soft, pale skin. Her long hair, silky to the touch. The way she moaned and whimpered beneath me. But also the fire in her eyes when she got angry with me. She was a real spitfire, and I fucking loved it about as much as I loved settling between those long fucking legs.
She’ll be fine, I told myself and forced my mind away from her. I needed to focus on what was happening, then I could go to her and figure out what the fuck was happening between us.
I gave my men time—time to collect their weapons and time to say their goodbyes to whatever sweethearts they had. Maybe fuck a few women before risking their lives.
But time passed both slowly and quickly. I slept fitfully checked in with Alex four times, and finally ran out of time. The twenty-four hours was up.
I headed out the door, slung my back onto the back of my motorcycle, and then put my Benelli and the Remington into the side bags. Straddling the bike, I revved her up, then I headed out. I met up with Travis outside his house. He was shouting with his old lady before kissing her passionately enough that I thought they might try to knock her up right there on the porch. Then he came down and saddled himself up. He told me the others were already on their way to join us. We rode off, headed to war.
Chapter Fifteen
Jamie
I’d been here about a day, and already, I was so frustrated I could scream. Alex wasn’t bad company necessarily, but I found that he was a bit of a motor mouth. And he was only nineteen. I’d actually made a point of asking him because I was really worked up by the idea that he might be sixteen or seventeen and already part of a gang.
Club, whatever.
But he was nineteen, which made him a legally consenting adult yet still a jackass. Boys didn’t get out of that jackass phase until about thirty, I’d decided, and for Alex, it might even take longer.
Still, he seemed like a good kid. Very eager to please. But right in that moment, I didn’t want to have a conversation. We were sitting at the kitchen table, having coffee and some semblance of breakfast. Alex had tried to cook, despite me insisting that I could handle it. He seemed eager to impress, but unfortunately, he’d mostly just managed to burn everything.
I sipped at my coffee, which was lukewarm now. My eyes were bloodshot, and I felt pale, tired. I was tired. I’d slept pretty terribly the night before. I was plagued by terrible dreams about men with guns, men running me off the road, and men pinning me to the ground and trying to hurt me. In the dreams, I’d always awoken before things got really bad, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still terrifying.
At least half a dozen times I’d woken up in the night, sweating and panting, my heart racing from fear.
The whole experience had left me cranky, and I was trying to be friendly with Alex, but he was just grating on my nerves. Of course, he was still a better option than Kato.
Kato was still feeling poorly after his ordeal, not that I could blame him. Although he was up and moving around with no real trouble, it was clear that it wore him out quickly. He was often pale and out of breath, no doubt a result of his injuries. Yesterday, after Pax had left, I’d tried to give him a quick check up, but he’d brushed me off like an annoying bug.
“What is your problem with me?” I’d demanded angrily.
He’d turned his sharp eyes on me, his brows pulled low over them, tension radiating from him. “I don’t fucking trust you. Don’t think for a minute that I do.”
Well, I definitely didn’t after that. I didn’t know why, and I’d thought about asking for an answer, but he’d stormed off quickly after that. And while I was okay pushing Pax’s buttons—for reasons I didn’t wholly understand given how well I didn’t know him—I didn’t feel comfortable doing the same with Kato. There was something about Pax that had me convinced he wouldn’t hurt me, at least not deliberately. But I didn’t share that same feeling with Kato.
“What do you think?”
I was brought back to the present by Alex’s question. I shook my head to refocus on him and found that he was staring at me, his expression open, his head cocked slightly to the side. He looked like a damn puppy.
“Um, I’m sorry, what?” I had completely missed whatever it was he was talking about. What did I think about what?
“Kato,” he prompted. When I still stared at him blankly, he added in annoyance, “Do you think he’s doing okay? I mean, is he recovering right and stuff?”
Oh, Kato. Of course. Really, I wanted to tell him that Kato needed to be checked into a hospital—both a regular one and a mental one. But that seemed bitchy, and I already knew what they thought about taking people to hospitals.
Because they’re all crazy.
“I guess he’s recovering fine,” I told Alex. I didn’t really feel like talking about it.
“But he seems really…slow. Not like, mentally but you know. Slow. Moving. Like he’s got a limp or something.” Alex prattled on for several more long sentences, and the urge to shove something in his mouth just to shut him up was pretty strong.
It was going to be a long couple of days being stuck here with him. I missed Pax already.
“His body is just trying to finish repairs,” I told him blandly. I glanced out the window at the pretty scenery outside. It really was a beautiful location. The trees outside were a combination of conifers and deciduous, their leaves just starting to change color. There were wildflowers in the cleared area surrounding the house, and from the back patio, I could see the mountains off in the distance.
Gorgeous.
But a gorgeous prison was still a prison.
I opened my mouth to say more on the subject of Kato’s recovery when I froze. Did I just see something move outside? Something that was definitely not a cute and furry animal? “Did you see—?” But I didn’t get the chance to ask if Alex had seen anyone.
Glass shattered from the window I’d just been staring out when a rock smashed through it. I let out a yell of surprise, and Alex got up so fast that he knocked his chair back. “What the fuck?” he got out, then a gunshot rang out through the otherwise still air. I dropped down to the ground, falling out of my chair.
Alex let out a cry of pain, then stumbled back into the kitchen counter, his left hand pressing against his right shoulder.
When I looked up at him, I saw blood seeping from between his fingers. He’d been hit. Oh my God, he was shot. I scrambled over to him, still low on the ground. Just as I was about to get up to check on his wound, another shot rang out. This one also hit Alex. But not in the shoulder. No, it hit him in the guts, blood pouring from his abdomen.
This was bad. Very bad. Shoulder wounds hurt and they could be fatal, but they were easier to treat. Easier to take the bullet out. But a hit to the stomach? The bullet could move around in there. It could hit vital organs. And if it wasn’t operated on quickly, it almost always resulted in a slow, painful death.
I scrambled the rest of the way over to him as he slid down the counter to slump onto the floor. He was crying out in pain now, forgetting his shoulder in favor of clutching at his stomach. Blood was pouring out, coating everything, and I felt tears sting my eyes. As a nurse, I knew without being told what was going to happen.
Alex, barely more than a boy, was going to die.
“It’s okay,” I told him, kneeling in front of him. I grabbed a nearby dishtowel and pressed it against his stomach. He cried out in pain. “It’s going to be okay.” But it was a lie. I really doubted it would be okay for him.
I heard more shots being fired, more crashing. There were stomping boots, and I realized that if I’d wanted to run, I had already wasted that opportunity. Instead, I’d crawled over here to Alex and that wasted time—because it was time wasted; there was nothing I could do—had cost me. The footsteps stomped into the kitchen, but I didn’t look up. I kept my eyes trained on Alex. “It’s going to be okay,” I told him again, trying to sound soothing. I didn’t think he believed me though. It was hard to believe someon
e comforting you when they were crying.
Alex moaned and groaned, holding his belly.
“Get up!” someone, a man, yelled. I felt something cold pressing against the back of my neck. I clenched my eyes shut as fear washed over me. I heard Alex mutter something but couldn’t make it out. He was losing blood fast and fading already.
“I said fucking get up!” the man yelled again.
When I still didn’t move, the man said, “Bitch,” then reached down and grabbed me under one arm. His grip was hard and bruised me, but I was barely paying attention to that. I was too busy thinking about the gun and the horrible way that Alex was dying.
Jerking me to my feet, I stumbled a little against him, then tried to jerk back. I didn’t want to touch this man. But he yanked me back to him and shoved me to move forward. “Fucking move,” he yelled. He shoved me out of the cabin. I caught glimpses of the hall; things were trashed. There was more yelling, and after a moment, I saw two huge men half-dragging Kato down the stairs. He looked bloodied up and pale. I had the feeling that if he hadn’t been so badly wounded, he might have put up a better fight, but I didn’t know.
They had guns. There were more of them. And they’d shot Alex twice and were now leaving him for dead.
But what were they going to do with us?
Chapter Sixteen
Pax
We rode like devils, decked out in the Hellriders’ colors—a gingery orange barely disguising a skull lurking in flames, settled against a background of thick black leather. Sometimes it seemed foolish to wear our patches. The easiest way to spot the guilty party was to identify who they belonged to, but tonight, I didn’t care. I wanted those assholes to know that we were coming. I wanted them to see us and be afraid.
I hated to say it, but what they’d done to Kato didn’t have me half as riled up as what they’d tried to do to Jamie. I’d kill them for their attempt, for wrecking that damn car of hers, for the cuts and scrapes I’d found on her body.
They’d made an attempt on her life, and she was only involved because she was a decent person. Because I’d convinced her to take care of Kato instead of following her instinct and taking him to the damn hospital, which would have been better for her but probably would have caused a world of problems for the Hellriders.
Part of me was a big enough asshole to still be grateful for that, no matter how injured Kato was or how much danger Jamie was in. Because that was the set of circumstances that led her to me.
Call me an asshole, but that alone made most of this shit worth it.
As we blazed down the highway, I tried to stay focused. It helped that the sound of the bike beneath me and the wind surrounding me was enough to cut off any sort of conversation that might try to peek in. I tried to utilize the buffer to prevent me from thinking of Jamie—which was fucking impossible.
I’d called Alex again before I finally left. It was under the pretense of checking in with Kato, but really I wanted to know how she was holding up.
I didn’t think Alex was fooled, but I couldn’t really make myself care.
Better they know she’s mine than me having to beat the shit out of every asshole that looks at her, I thought.
I pulled the clutch to shift gears and really opened her up. Travis was beside me, a foot or so back. He followed my lead, revving his own motorcycle. Coming up was the turn that would lead us down Easterly Street. The boys would meet up with us there coming from various roads. We all lived in, more or less, the same area. In fact, I was the farthest out at the moment because I was still staying at that damn house. That being said, no one was grouped in one central location. It was smart, practical and all, so that we wouldn’t all be busted at once, but that wasn’t the reason we were scattered. I hadn’t planned it.
It was more of a natural occurrence. People joined the Hellriders because they lived in town, and we were the motorcycle club in charge. But they didn’t move just because they joined. They stayed in their apartments, their houses, or their trailers—wherever. Like a job, they worked one place and lived another. Just part of it.
But if you lived past our boundaries, you had to move. That was one of our rules because territory lines were important. And I’d worked hard to build them.
When I first started building the Hellriders, it was little more than some local shady deals. It had been me and Marco back then, ironically enough, but when he’d started to go straighter and I dipped into the more risqué stuff, the dynamic between us shifted. We were still friends, and he was still a member of the Hellriders, unless anyone asked. His job meant he couldn’t wear his leathers or openly display his loyalties. And I accepted the necessity of that because I prefer to have someone on the inside to having someone think that a patch made them loyal to me.
Still, when Marco went to the academy, I started getting serious about the club. About starting one at all. Then I met Kato and the idea solidified in my mind. We were wild, road warriors who didn’t give a damn about anything out there. Nothing could stop us. We were invincible. We sold drugs and boosted cars and did whatever we damn well pleased. The cops came for us but could never pin anything concrete to our chests. And when certain influences came to town that we didn’t like, we took care of them. Ran them off and dealt with those who refused to leave.
Which was exactly what was happening now with the Chaos Disciples. They were a bigger pain in my ass than I liked to admit because they weren’t easily scared off.
The Chaos Disciples was run by a man named Diego Huxton, a royal piece of shit that I’d just as soon have never laid eyes on than deal with now. But I didn’t have much choice. He’d come in only a couple of months ago with a big fucking splash. He brought with him only a few guys, but after only two weeks, he had them in droves.
Unlike the Hellriders, the Disciples were less selective. They didn’t care what you did or anything else. To them, you were a body, and bodies meant muscle, even if there were no brains attached. Most of the Disciples were those I had already dismissed as potential candidates. Either they’d failed their initiation or they were just bad news.
But Huxton didn’t care. He’d take any man willing to ride with him and follow his orders—and some that weren’t. In his mind, it was as easy to get rid of a guy as it was to find another. So if one of his men crossed the line, it wasn’t like he had to worry about it. He’d just make sure they didn’t live to see the next day.
Asshole, I thought angrily, leaning forward a little into the wind. He doesn’t know the first fucking thing about being a leader or about running a motorcycle club. It’s about brotherhood, about loyalty. What the fuck is the point of bringing people together if you’re just going to kill them when they step out of line?
I was of the opinion that if you were going to bring people into the club, they needed to be a few things—tough, uncompromising, a little reckless, and a little crazy. But the top on my list was trustworthy, which went right along with loyal. I never wanted to question whether or not my guys were going to rat on me to save their own skin. I may have worried over Kato’s mistrust of Jamie, but that wasn’t a question of being loyal to me, that was an issue of trying to look out for the best interests of the Hellriders. Under normal circumstances, I’d have appreciated that.
But Jamie didn’t make the circumstances normal, I thought with irritation. She made things complicated.
I pursed my lips together, the thought of her distracting. Reminding myself that she was fine, that I’d just spoken to Alex, I tried to focus again on the here and now. Travis was still at my side, and a quick glance in my side mirrors told me that we’d been joined by two others already—Jarren and Clint.
Blinking away the sting of the whipping air, I found myself grateful for the sunglasses I’d donned, if only because they blocked a lot of that wind. Helmets were probably a good idea, but there was something about people seeing your face when you first road in that I liked.
We rode several more miles before the noise of our bikes increas
ed as more of the Hellriders fell in line behind me. We took up the road, and it was probably a good fucking thing that there wasn’t a lot of traffic, not that I’d have let it slow us down. I was a man on a mission. Those asshole Disciples weren’t going to stay here another fucking day.
I wanted them gone.
We would have kept riding straight on through if it weren’t for Chevy up ahead. He was sitting on his idling bike, and he was just far enough ahead that I could see he was stopped and waving. He was trying to flag us down.
My mouth tugged into a frown. Why was he flagging us down? Why wasn’t he joining us? I knew from intel that the Chaos Disciples’ headquarters wasn’t far up ahead now, and it wouldn’t take more than ten, fifteen minutes max to get there. I wasn’t interesting in stopping in for a fucking chat when we were on the edge of war, but I knew that Chevy wasn’t the type to stop us for nothing. If he wasn’t joining in, something was wrong. Very wrong.
