Cullen: Steel Cobras MC

by Evie Monroe

  It was easy to see why they’d choose him to be their president.

  That night, I’d had a little too much to drink and grabbed a shot of tequila off the bar, downing it, when a huge tough guy, with arms the size of tree trunks, spun on the bar. “Hey, that was my drink, bitch!”

  I’d started to apologize when Cullen nudged me behind him and confrontationally pushed his chest out. “Who the fuck are you calling a bitch, motherfucker?”

  Cullen didn’t give a shit that the guy had five inches on him. He shoved him square in the chest, and the man stumbled back against his stool, stunned.

  Cullen got right in his face. “Apologize to her. It’s a fucking honor to buy her a drink, asshole. Now thank her for letting you,” he growled, pulling him up by the shirt and forcing him to look at me.

  The guy blinked, confused. He looked more at the ground than at me, face reddening. “Hey, um, thanks for letting me buy you a drink . . .”

  “See? That wasn’t so hard.” Cullen slammed a bill onto the counter. “But that one was actually on me.”

  Then he patted the guy’s cheek, took me by the elbow, and led me out of the bar. I’d only gone to the bar with him once, but from the way the men were grinning at him and the women’s tongues were wagging as their eyes followed him out of the place, this was a regular occurrence.

  I’d never been so proud to be with him then at that moment. Or turned on. The sex we’d had that night? Fan-fucking-tastic.

  I blinked out of the memory when the sky opened, like God just dumped a massive bucket of water over all of Aveline Bay.

  “Wow.” The driver slowed and turned his windshield wipers way up. “Sorry, dear. Looks like you’re going to be getting a little wet.”

  His headlights cut through the rain, but steam was rising from the overheated streets, cutting visibility way down. I could barely see a thing. He inched along as lightning lit up the sky around us. “That’s okay. Geez. It’s really coming down, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, boy.” He tightened his hands on the steering wheel. “Tell you what. We get to your address and you stay in here as long as you like. I won’t leave the meter running.”

  I smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you. But your time is just as valuable as mine. I’m sure you have other places to be. And I’ll only be a few minutes. I’ll want you to stay, anyway, because I think I’ll need a ride back.”

  I looked at what I’d brought with me and gauged the situation. I had a new diaper bag that Cullen had bought, and it didn’t have much in it but diapers. No raincoats. No umbrella. I’d packed Ella’s pink changing pad. Maybe that could serve as a little something to keep us from getting drenched? I pulled it out and unrolled it. It was pretty big. It was worth a shot.

  I peered through the gray rain as we continued down to the harbor until I saw about ten motorcycles, all lined up against the side of a one-story white building. There was a silhouette of what might have been an old company sign on the wall, but right now the only words I could make out was the address. 121 Ocean Avenue.

  The door opened and I saw someone with a leather motorcycle jacket and helmet under his arm jogging out. Definitely the right place.

  I scooped Ella into my arms and held the changing pad over our heads. “Thank you!” I said, jumping out into an ankle-deep puddle in the driving rain and wishing I hadn’t worn such a tight, short dress.

  It quickly became clear the pad wasn’t doing shit. The rain was whipping in sideways, pelting us both, loud as a drumbeat in my ears. Ella squealed, delighted by the feeling.

  Head down, I hugged Ella close to me and raced to the entrance, vaguely aware that the door was open for me. Maybe Cullen saw me and was coming out to help.

  When I got closer, though, I heard noise. Shouts. I looked up, blinking away raindrops to see men out there. The Cobras. They were running out. Where were they going?

  I slowed when I saw Cullen, standing at the door of the warehouse, his mouth opened in a scream.

  What the hell was going on?

  When I slowed to a stop and strained to hear, I heard him shout two things: Get and back.

  He started to race for me. I froze. “What?” I called. Ella looked up at me, her chubby, rain-spattered face growing frightened. Dropping the changing pad, I cupped her head and rested her against my chest. “What’s going on?”

  I’d never seen his face as urgent and downright determined as it had been right then. He reached for me, spun me around, and yelled, “Run! Get out of here!”

  We broke into a run, and suddenly, the world around us rippled and exploded. For a moment, everything went black, Ella screamed, there was a deafening blast, and then, the only thing I could hear was my own heartbeat. The ground pushed up and we were flung forward. A scream trapped itself in my throat as we were thrown to the ground. I braced Ella against me to avoid the impact but something—or someone—was bracing me.

  We hit the pavement with a thud. The only thing I sensed was the warmth of his body, his strong arms, cocooning us, making sure that he’d never let anything—or anyone—hurt us.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cullen

  Pain seared up my neck. On the ground, I looked over my shoulder to see if we were in the clear. The warehouse was demolished. Black smoke poured into the air and flames licked at the walls and hunks of twisted metal. Ash and debris floated down on us, along with the steady, driving rain. In the distance, my guys were running through the curtains of smoke, some shouting, others with their mouths open.

  But I couldn’t hear them. Couldn’t hear the roar of the fire. All I could hear was the echo of my heart in my head. I pressed a hand to my ear. It came back wet and sticky with my blood.

  I turned to Grace, who was huddled in a ball on the ground, still clutching Ella. Ella’s face was contorted in a sob I couldn’t hear. Grace’s chest heaved.

  I reached out and grabbed her face in my hands, steadying her. “You okay?” I asked, looking her over. She had a bleeding scratch on her cheek, mixing with raindrops. I yanked off my kutte and then my shirt to stop the bleeding, but it wasn’t very clean. It was covered in blood, but I brought it to her cheek.

  We were soaked to the skin now. Her body trembled. She grabbed Ella, doing the same inspection I’d done to Grace. Her mouth moved in a frantic twist as she examined the little girl, but I couldn’t understand her. I turned to Ella, who was still sobbing, red-faced, and saw what Grace saw: Ella’s face was bloody.

  I looked closer, for the source. “It’s not her.” I said, sounding like I was talking in slow motion. “It’s your blood. Mine.”

  She grabbed Ella to her chest and heaved a sigh of relief.

  I pounded on the side of my head, willing my hearing back, and it worked some, because I heard her voice, but far away. “You. You’re bleeding, Cullen.” She reached for me and I followed her line of sight, feeling my neck. Warm, wet blood was pouring down my back. I lifted my hand and found the source of the bleeding, a cut on the back of my head.

  “I’m okay,” I said.

  Behind me, I heard the shouts of people, and in the distance, sirens. The rain pounded harder all around us.

  I motioned to a bus shelter with a bench at the side of the pier. I lifted Grace to her feet and dragged her and Ella over there. I wiped the gravel from her knees and shins as she perched at the edge of the bench. “Stay here, okay? I’ll be back.”

  She hugged Ella and nodded absently, the two of them wet and shivering. Thunder boomed overhead, and she shook.

  I took her face in my hand and made her look at me. “Hey. It’s going to be okay. You good?”

  She blinked with recognition and nodded again, this time, more with it.

  As fast as the rain had come on, now it was starting to let up. I ran down to where Hart was standing, talking with some of the other guys. Everyone looked fine, just soaked. “Everyone get out?”

  He nodded. “Shit, that was a close one,” he breathed out, surveying the damage. “Ripped a fu
cking hole in our operations, though. What the fuck?”

  Zain jogged up a second later, nursing a bleeding gash that had cemented his eye shut. Out of breath, he doubled over with his hands on his knees. Then he said the word that all of us were thinking. “Fury.”

  Yeah. I nodded. Shit. No wonder he’d been so nice and accommodating on the phone. I’d played right into it like a fucking moron. Slade wouldn’t let us off that easy without some revenge, no matter what he said. Zain had even said that dude could be unpredictable and had a fucking sadistic streak.

  I looked back toward the bench, where Ella and Grace were huddled together.

  He’d gotten close. Too close. Any closer, and . . .

  “So what do we do?” Hart asked.

  Zain punched his fist. “We go after them and blow a fucking hole in their heads.”

  I held up my hands. The first responders had barely arrived and they were talking about getting revenge? No. I didn’t even know if everyone was okay yet.

  We had to think this through. It was not having a chance to think this through that had gotten us into the situation where we’d had to kill some of Fury’s men. We were on a path that would only mean a lot more casualties, and I wasn’t about to lose any men. “Relax. For now. We have to be smart about this. Let’s wait for the dust to settle.”

  The fire trucks screamed in, sirens blaring, and Jet and Drake came in, right behind, on their cycles. I braced myself as they got off their bikes, knowing exactly where those two assholes stood. “Jesus,” Jet said, scrubbing his hands through his hair. He looked at me. “Now are we going to do something?”

  I didn’t look at him. That was Jet, just willing to jump in without knowing the whole story. He didn’t even know what had happened. Zain cupped his hands around his mouth and lit a cigarette, then offered one to me, which I took. “Cool it,” I muttered to Jet, striding over to the fire chief as his men fought to put out the blaze.

  “It was a bomb,” I called over to him, lighting the cigarette. “We all got out.”

  The fire chief regarded me like most of the city did, with annoyed indifference. We’d have to start paying these guys more money. “Where’d this bomb come from?” he asked.

  “It was a package, delivered to us,” I said as an ambulance pulled up behind us. When the EMTs got out, two guys looked at my head, which was bleeding its way down my back. I waved them away and motioned to Grace and Ella. “Forget me. See to them.”

  “Don’t be a hard ass. That needs stitches,” Drake said, trying to touch it.

  I grunted and wiped the blood away. “Later.”

  The EMT glanced at the wound and said, “He’s right. And we have to check for a concussion.”

  Of course Drake was right, but I wasn’t going to the hospital right now and leaving my club. I had other things on my mind. As far as I was concerned, my brains weren’t leaking from my head, so no problem. “Like I said, later,” I muttered, taking a drag of the cigarette to calm my nerves as I strode toward the wreckage. Under a pile of blown-up corrugated metal, I saw the remains of a motorcycle. “What did we lose?”

  “Fuck!” Hart groaned. “My fucking bike is under there. My dad gave me that bike.”

  I nodded. Hart loved that piece of shit, because his dad had been his hero. “I’ll get you another one. What else?”

  “How about our dignity?” Jet said. He and Drake were the only ones of us who didn’t look like we’d just gone to hell and back. We were covered head to toe in black, and Jet looked even more like a lily-white pretty boy than usual. He hadn’t lost a thing.

  I gave him a look and he backed down. He was lucky he was Nix’s brother or I would’ve given him a hell of a lot worse.

  “Look, guys. I know we’re all riled right now. But let’s take a breath, can we?” I checked my phone. It was just after seven. I looked at Hart. “Church. Ten.”

  Jet snorted. “Where?”

  This place was a circus right now with the fire trucks, ambulances, curious onlookers, and now a news helicopter was circling overhead. Couldn’t very well discuss this in the open. I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring them to my house. Not with Grace and Ella there. “The garage.”

  They all nodded.

  I tossed the cigarette stub on the ground and went back to Grace and Ella, who were just finishing up with the EMT. Grace had a band-aid on her cheek, now. She handed me my shirt, and I shrugged it on. I pointed to the cab she’d come in on. The driver was still there, filming everything on his cell phone. “You should go back to the house.”

  She nodded and pointed at my head. “But what about you? You need to get to the—”

  “Stop. I’ll live. I’ll have Drake patch it up later.”

  “But . . .?”

  “Relax. Drake’s got this. He was a doc in another life.”

  She eyed me doubtfully and her brows knitted together. “So what was it? Hell’s Fury, again? Why are they doing this to you? Shooting your house and then bombing your meeting place? Do they want you dead?”

  I shook my head. “Shut up. I don’t know. Don’t even know if it was them. That’s what we’re going to figure out.” I looked back at the guys, who I could tell were getting more riled by the minute. They all needed me to deliver a dose of calm-the-fuck-down. “But, I need you out of here. Now.”

  She looked down that Ella, who was dozing off, her head falling against Grace’s chest. Finally, she nodded, and I walked her over to the cab and helped her inside. I closed the door and banged on the roof of the car. As it took off, I turned to see Zain jogging toward me.

  I knew what he was going to say before he said it. “That the ex who’s staying at your house? What the fuck was she here for?”

  I motioned to him to give me another cigarette and lit it. I only smoked like a chimney during shit like this. “No clue.”

  “That your kid?”

  I rubbed at my jaw, ignoring the question. Zain might’ve been our newest member, but he knew enough that when I didn’t answer, it wasn’t that I didn’t hear him. It meant to back the fuck off.

  I went back toward the smoldering club house and watched the firefighters going back and forth from the building. The flames were almost out. I joined the guys and said, “Look. All of you. We still don’t know if this came from Slade.”

  “Who else could it have come from?” Hart asked.

  “Yeah, it’s a good chance. But we made a lot of enemies that night. There’s no saying that the bomb wasn’t just one of the members, trying to get their own revenge. And it’s not like Hell’s Fury are the only people who’ve ever been after us. Right?”

  Zain didn’t agree with me on this. I could see it in his eyes. “But this is the mark of someone straight-up batshit. Slade.”

  Jet nodded. Goddammit, the guy was always doing shit to undermine me. He was such a little pisser that I think if authority told him the sky was blue he’d argue just to have something to argue about.

  Just then, Nix pulled up on his bike. “Holy shit,” he said, ripping off his helmet. “Fury?”

  I took a slow drag of my cigarette. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. I’m not jumping to conclusions.”

  He frowned as his eyes swept over my head. “Anyone hurt?”

  “Not bad.”

  “Jesus. You could see the smoke from the garage.”

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I lifted it out, expecting it to be one of my guys, asking what the hell was going on. But it was an unknown number. I answered it. “Yeah?”

  “Saw you on the news,” a voice said, low and confident.

  Slade.

  My jaw tensed. I didn’t have his number until Hart pulled it out, and I’d called him from the land line at the clubhouse. How had he gotten my cell number?

  The answer was one I didn’t want to think about: He was hunting us.

  I turned away from the guys and put a finger to my other ear so I could hear over the sea wind.

  “Is this your fucking work, Slade?�
� I growled into the phone.

  The guys turned silent and began to crowd around me as he said, “You’re looking good without your shirt. You been working out? But that cut on your head should probably be looked at.”

  “Don’t fuck with me,” I muttered.

  “Aw. What happened to friendly beers at Rocky’s?” He let out a low laugh. “That’s one thing you need to understand, boy. We’re. Not. Friends.”

  I sucked on my cigarette, not meeting the eyes of my guys, who were studying me with bloody murder on their faces. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “That package was just a message. And the next time I see you, that little cut on your head’ll be nothing compared to what we do to you. You got that?”

  “Don’t think we’re going down without a fight,” I said, squaring my shoulders, adrenaline coursing through my veins. He messed with the wrong mother fuckin’ club. “You just declared yourself a war.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Grace

  The second I got into the taxi and it started to pull away, the kind old driver wiped his face with a handkerchief and began to chatter like there was no tomorrow.

  “Damn, that was the craziest thing I ever saw! I thought for sure we were goners. What the . . . wow. If you’d gone in there only a second earlier . . .”

  I let him go on and on, thinking about the roar of the bomb, the way it’d felt like someone had pulled the ground out from under me, the white-hot bolt of fear that had shot through me like a bullet before I hit the ground, the half-formed, frantic thoughts of protecting Ella that had blazed through my mind, blotting out everything else.

  Cullen had to have had those thoughts, too. Of protecting us. I could still feel his strong arms around me as he wrapped us up tight, taking the brunt of the damage.

  The way he’d looked at me, like I was something precious . . . no, like I was the most precious thing he’d ever had . . . would’ve taken my breath away if I wasn’t already gasping from the force of the impact.

  I knew he cared. He maybe even loved us.

  But I also knew it wasn’t enough.