by Ryan Michele
Stiff took a step closer, and one of the men reached into the back of his pants.
Bosco held up a gun, aiming it at the man. “Don’t fucking think so.”
Any sane person would be nervous that a gun had been pulled in the middle of a diner, but not me. Nope, I was fucking ecstatic. I would do anything to keep my sister protected.
YOU’VE GOTTA BE shitting me.
Gonzo. There was that fucking name again. First my mother and now Chelsea’s fucking father. Add this shit in front of me going down, and I was ready to fucking destroy the man. My mother had a fucking choice about getting hooked on the shit and starting to deal, while Chelsea and her fucking pint-sized sister had shit to do with any of it.
The reason we’d stopped at the diner tonight was because we had been casing the warehouse down the road. Since Gonzo wouldn’t return Spook’s calls and didn’t live here, the only way to get to him was through his people, and the warehouse was a known hideout for them.
This would end. We would get to him.
“Dawg.”
He grunted in response.
“Need you to clear the four people out of here. Make sure they understand,” I told him.
“You’ve got it.” Dawg had been around forever, so he knew I meant no cops were to be called on this. They needed to walk away and keep their mouths shut.
“Xander, help Chelsea get her sister out of here.” Hearing Chelsea about to protest, I cut in, “Chels, not now. Get your sister out of here and get her cleaned up.”
“Now, Chelsea,” Boner said when the damn woman wanted to refuse.
She put her hands on her hips, and her expression turned defiant. Shit, she was a spitfire, and truthfully, it was hotter than hell, but I couldn’t focus on that right now.
“Fine,” she huffed out as Xander walked behind me and lifted Chelsea’s sister.
She cried out in pain, which only pissed me off more. I’d be surprised if the little one even weighed more than a hundred pounds, and these two assholes were quadruple that shit. Totally un-fucking called for.
I waited until everyone had cleared out before addressing the men.
“First, motherfucker, we’re lookin’ for Gonzo. Where the fuck is he?” I asked while Bosco trained his gun on the men.
Boner just stood back, keeping his menacing eyes on them. With Boner being our vice president, I was a bit surprised he was letting me continue to take the lead.
The two men still looked too fucking cocky for their own good. While I’d love to shoot them in their legs just to prove a point, Charlie’s was still open, which meant this needed be taken outside soon.
“He don’t wanna be found,” one of the assholes sneered, infuriating me further.
Searching for Gonzo’s whereabouts was pissing us off. Now, with Chelsea in the mix, pissed didn’t cut it.
I shook my head, getting back in the game. Then I stepped closer, moving so damn fast the asshole who’d spoken didn’t see it coming when I jabbed him hard in the throat, using the web between my index finger and thumb.
He clutched his neck as he fell to the ground, gasping.
The other guy moved, but Boner was on him, and I heard the grunts from the man, though I didn’t take my eyes off the asshole choking.
“Outside,” Boner called out.
Fuck yeah, outside.
“Need you to call Spook to get someone here to get Chelsea and her sister back to the clubhouse. Can’t take her to the ER unless it’s dire,” Boner continued.
I reached in my leather, bringing out my phone, and clicked Spook’s name.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Boss man, got a problem.” I laid it out for him in detail, including Chelsea and her sister.
He listened, taking everything in.
“Hooch is around. I’ll have him come and get the women. Trixie will deal with them here while we get ahold of Needles. I’m joining you.”
“No way to transport them, boss. All on rides.” No way in hell was I riding my bike with one of these fuckers unless he was chained to the back and I was dragging him.
“Hooch and I’ll bring the vans. We’ll be there in ten.” He clicked off as Boner kicked the shit out of the man I chopped in the throat.
“Brother,” I called out, catching his attention. “Ten out and we move.”
Boner nodded, and Bosco grinned. It wasn’t his happy, ‘I’m getting laid’ one; this one was the devilish one that no man wanted to be on the receiving end of.
This was going to be fun.
“BE CAREFUL,” I TOLD Xander, who rolled his eyes at me.
“She’s fucking beat to shit. Any way I touch her, she’s gonna hurt.”
Duh, I knew that; I just didn’t want her to hurt any more than she had to. Nevertheless, I shut up and led him into the employee break room.
I pushed three chairs together, forming a makeshift bed, and Xander laid a groaning Jennifer down. Tears and blood streaked her face as I bent down to her.
“Jenn, look at me,” I told her. Inside, I wanted to cry, wanted to bawl at the sight of my sister’s eyes so swollen she could barely open them to look at me. This was the worst pain imaginable, and I wished it were me lying there, battered and bruised, instead of her. I would do anything to make her pain go away.
“Can you talk?” I asked, and unknown grumbles came from her throat.
Shit, did they break her jaw?
I felt the tears begin to sting, but no way in hell were they going to break through. My sister needed me, and I would damn well help her.
“Oh, my God!” Mitzi came into the room, a sobbing mess and being all dramatic, which there was no time for.
“Either get me the first-aid kit or go, Mitzi,” I barked, and her jaw practically fell to the floor. No, I had never talked to her like that before, but my kid gloves had come off when my sister had landed on the floor.
“Where is it?” Xander asked as I looked over at a stock-still, pale-faced Mitzi. At least I knew who not to call in an emergency. That woman couldn’t handle shit.
“Far top cabinet.” I pointed. “There should be some towels in there, too. Next to the sink is a bowl; can you put warm water in it?”
He was already on the move before I even got the last words out. He had the bowl in hand and was getting the water. Damn, he was quick.
Feeling Mitzi’s eyes on me, I said, “Go, Mitzi.” I wasn’t trying to be a bitch, but if she was just going to stand there like a fucking mannequin and not help, she had no business being back here.
I heard a huff then a door opening and closing.
“Few bricks shy of a full load?” Xander joked, and I felt the cord of tension in my chest relax a small bit.
Xander seemed to have an easy-going nature about him. And even though this situation didn’t call for any kind of joke whatsoever, his ease made it seem okay. It made me feel a sense of calm, enabling me to do what needed to be done and to fight back the anger and tears.
He must have seen my reaction, because no other words were spoken as he knelt down beside me. Then he put the cloths into the water before he handed me one at a time. It hit me at that moment that he more than likely had training in this and should probably be the one working on my sister, but he’d given this to me. He didn’t step on my toes and take over.
I worked, each stroke of the rag scraping against my sister’s once flawless skin, making her cringe. I hated that, hated that someone thought it was okay to hurt my baby sister. I hated that the assholes that did it were so close, yet I was in here with her and not out there, rearranging someone’s balls.
“They’ll take care of him,” Xander said, and I turned to him, my brow raised.
How in the hell had he read my mind?
He quirked his lip, and in that moment, I saw Stiff. I liked that and let it roll through me.
“Stiff isn’t gonna let those assholes just walk out of here,” he told me. “Let him and the boys take care of it. You worry about your girl here.”
&nbs
p; “She’s bad,” I whispered, wiping the last of the blood from her face and revealing large gashes. “The way she’s holding her ribs.” I nodded to them.
“You mind if I take a look?” Xander asked, and I liked that he’d given me that sliver of control.
“No.” I turned to Jenn’s swollen face. “Baby girl, Xander here is gonna take a look and see what’s going on with your ribs.” When she groaned, trying to pull away, I looked at him and explained to her, “He was trained in the military. He knows what he’s lookin’ for.” I had no idea for sure if he did, but she didn’t need to know that, and I was trusting Xander to do what needed to be done.
“Hey, there.” His deep voice sounded soothing, but Jenn still flinched when Xander came close to her. Then, when he touched her ribs through her thin shirt, she cried out. He looked glumly at me. “Pretty sure she’s cracked a couple of ribs. She’s not wheezing, so nothing’s poking her lung.”
Anger bubbled, so much so I started to shake.
Xander touched my hand. “Let Stiff deal with this. I get you’re pissed. I would be, too. But Stiff’ll handle it.”
Eyes glaring, I barked, “I’ll handle it.”
He rose to his full height. “Just take care of your sister. The rest will work out.”
Before I could respond further, the door to the room opened, and my eyes focused on it as I rose, ready to protect my sister if I needed to.
Stiff walked in, followed by another man. I believed his name was Hooch. He’d spent limited time in the diner; therefore, my knowledge of him was at a minimum.
Stiff walked right up to me, and I felt the need to step back, so I did. He followed, putting his arm around my back this time.
I looked up at him in complete shock. What the hell was happening here? He’d never put his hands on me before, ever. Sure, a brush of a hand when I was dishing out food or a drink, but never this. Never this close.
I could smell the leather, tobacco, and some sort of spice coming off him. The smell was so damn intoxicating I leaned into him unwillingly.
He lifted my chin with his index finger, and my eyes went to his.
“You okay?” he questioned, breaking whatever spell had been over me.
I cleared my throat and tried to move back out of his grip, but he didn’t allow it, holding me more securely.
“Yeah. Need to get Jennifer to the hospital, though.” I nodded at her. “Xander says he thinks some ribs are cracked. I need to get her some x-rays and—”
He placed a finger on my lips, and my eyes flew back to his.
“This is how it’s gonna play out. Hooch here is gonna take you ladies to the clubhouse. Then the doctor is gonna come and take a look. He’ll be able to patch her up.”
I glared, moving back an inch. Who the hell did he think he was, telling me how this would “play” out?
“But—”
He pressed harder on my lips, which got him another glare.
“No cops on this one. We’re handling this in house.”
I shook my head.
“I’ll explain later. Hooch is gonna carry your girl to the car. Trixie, Spook’s ol’ lady, will meet you there. She’ll get you fixed up.” He removed his finger.
“You done?” I growled, because fuck him. One minute, he didn’t talk to me at the table, and the next, he was … whatever the hell this was. Um, I don’t think so.
“Yeah, babe. Know you wanna give me hell, but I’ve got shit to do. That shit is outside, so I need to get.”
“Why the hell should I listen to anything you say?”
He pulled me against him, his lips coming to my ear, and every single nerve on my body went on high alert.
“Babe, let me help you.” He grazed the shell of my ear with his nose, sending butterflies fluttering in stomach.
When he stepped away, I actually felt his loss, which was strange and a bit unnerving.
“Alright, ladies, let’s get you the fuck out of here,” Hooch said, giving me something to focus on.
“CUT THE ZIP TIES,” Spook ordered.
We owned a massive amount of former military land and had brought the two guys to a small shed off the back corner of the clubhouse property, nestled back in the woods. We hadn’t used it in quite some time, not having any need to, but these assholes had just given us a reason to dust off the dirt and give it a try again.
I stepped forward, flipping up my switchblade before moving behind the motherfucker who thought it was good practice to beat up small women. He was about two inches shorter than me but well-built; no way should he be beating on pixie girls.
“Yeah, untie me, you fucking bitch.”
My first instinct was to slam the blade into the asshole’s thigh. Instead, I cocked back my right fist and nailed him hard in the jaw. It happened so fast. One minute he was sitting on his ass, and the next, he was lying on the ground, spitting out blood.
“I’m ’bout ready to show you bitch, motherfucker,” I ground out, slicing the ties around his wrists.
“You’re a fuckin’ pussy,” he replied.
Wishing he’d stay quiet like his buddy, I retracted the blade and put the knife back in my pocket.
“I’m the pussy? You’re the one bleedin’,” I taunted as he rose to his feet unsteadily. He rolled his arms and cracked his neck from side to side. I wasn’t sure if it was to intimidate me or what, but he fell far from the mark.
If the fucker wanted a fight, he could come at me. It had been a long damn time since I’d fought schoolyard style. That meant no tape, no ring, no nothing—just two men ready to beat the ever-loving shit out of each other. I had been in enough of them over the years to know exactly what I was doing.
“You done with the yoga?” I stood with my arms crossed, watching this idiot. Next, he was going to have me ordering him a fucking fancy coffee or some shit.
“Yoga?” Bosco questioned. “Really, brother?”
I shrugged. “I’m sure seeing a hot chick do it would be fun, but this is makin’ me wanna vomit.”
“Fuck you!” the asshole barked.
“Fuck you back,” I told him to Bosco’s amusement.
“Look at you, fucking Mr. Clean,” the asshole chided. At this, Dawg full-out laughed.
“That’s the best you got? Damn, you need more help than I can give ya.”
The first three punches were in quick succession; one to the left of his face, one to the gut, the last to the right of his face.
He wiped the blood from his busted lip and charged me. That was one of several mistakes the man made today. The first was waking up.
Just as he got to me, I lifted my knee, hitting him hard in the jaw, then elbowed him in his spine, and he crashed down the cement floor.
I spit on the ground where the asshole lay. “Mr. Clean kicked your sorry ass, motherfucker.” I kicked him in the ribs repeatedly, letting the images of Chelsea’s sister race through my head: her on the floor, her cries of pain, her moans. I let it all take over as I kicked the asshole.
Bones snapped, and he screamed, but I couldn’t stop. I was in a zone, one where part of me feared I couldn’t pull myself out. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as memories of my mother getting the shit beaten out of her over and over again through her fucked up decisions crashed through me. Then came thoughts of Chelsea’s father and the consequences his actions had put on his daughters. Everything rolled into me, hitting me hard.
As I continued to kick the limp man on the ground, words were spoken in the background. However, I couldn’t register anything as I grabbed the asshole, pulling him up and giving him three savage punches to the jaw.
“Brother!” Spook yelled through the foggy haze.
“Stiff!” Xander screamed next.
Then I heard my other brothers all telling me I needed to stop.
Somehow, it registered and I halted. I dropped the dickhead. Then all I could do was look at the ground, my vision a bit hazy with red. Slowly, the room came back into focus, but my heart pounded
so hard I thought it might beat out of my chest.
I stepped back from the heap of man as Spook came before me. Raising my head, I looked into my president’s eyes.
“Brother?” he said softly, his concern evident.
I nodded. “I’m good.”
“Care to tell me what that was?”
“Saw the little girl beaten. I …” I ran my hand over my head and down my face against my beard. Fuck, I really lost it with the asshole. “Sorry, man.”
“I get you, brother, I get you. Take a break,” Spook ordered, and I moved off to the side to stand next to Xander.
He checked me in the shoulder, not hard but enough to get my attention. “Damn, Mr. Clean, you can kick serious ass.”
At his joke, I felt the entire fog I was under lift away. “I prefer Vin Diesel, but what the fuck ever.”
“Vin? No fucking way, man. Chicks think he’s the shit,” Xander quipped as Boner and Dawg moved the half-conscious guy off to the side then zip tied his hands and feet together.
I fucked that one up. He probably wouldn’t be able to talk for weeks from that shit.
“I am the shit,” I retorted. This time, I checked him in the shoulder, getting a chuckle from him. “Fuckin’ love havin’ you home, brother.” I flexed my hands, feeling the sting from the open cuts. They weren’t oozing too badly, so I’d be fine.
“Here.” Xander handed me a towel. “Rip it in half and put it over your hands.” While in the service, he’d learned tons of shit. I was so damn proud of him, but really?
“Later,” I told him. I’d get patched up once this shit was over.
He shrugged, tossing the towel onto the counter.
Looking back at the scene, I saw Dawg and Boner had the second man tied to a metal chair, his legs attached to the legs of the chair and his arms behind his back.
I pulled out a smoke, lit it, and inhaled.
“You already saw what happens when I let the brothers go. You wanna tell us where Gonzo is, or do you want the same fate?” Spook asked like he didn’t have a care in the world. He had a way about him, always did, even as a kid in school.
“I don’t know, man. He doesn’t come around.” Wetness—piss, I assumed—dripped from the chair in a stream, hitting the worn floor. This guy was the definite follower of the group. I couldn’t believe Gonzo, or anyone for that matter, had even hired this pussy to do his shit.
