Brewer (Dead Souls MC Book 3)

by Savannah Rylan

  Eyes I couldn’t see for months.

  “Where are you going?” he asked as I walked out of the kitchen.

  “Home,” I said.

  I felt his arm grip me before he ripped me around. His lips crashed onto mine as he cupped my cheeks, barreling my back into the door. His hands gripped my hips and he hoisted me up the door frame and I felt my body caving to him. I felt his cock grinding against me. But even as that telltale heat raked up the back of my neck, I couldn’t give in.

  “We aren’t a mistake,” he said as his forehead pressed against mine.

  “Put me down,” I said as I wiggled against him.

  His hands gripped me tighter before he released me from his grasp. I ripped his door open and stormed out, running back to my house with my bra and panties in my hand. I slammed myself into my house as tears streamed down my cheeks, my heart shattering into pieces as I slid to the floor.

  Brewer was going to be gone. For all I knew, he was in danger. And there was nothing I could do about it.

  I tossed my wet underwear into the corner before pulling myself to my feet. I had to piece myself back together. I had to pick myself up by my bootstraps and keep on going. I couldn’t be with a man that couldn’t talk to me. That couldn’t tell me what was going on in his world. But as I ripped my wet clothes off and walked to the dryer to pull out a new outfit, my soul already ached.

  I already missed him.

  And he wasn’t even gone yet.

  Chapter 23

  Brewer

  A mistake?

  Did Makenna really think I was a mistake?

  Fuck. This was supposed to be the one night I enjoyed her before all this bullshit went down. The one night where I was supposed to have her in my arms and send myself off with the feel of her against me. All I wanted to do was keep her ass out of this club shit. Was that so much to ask? It was dangerous. They’d come after her and Ana while I was put away if I didn’t shield her from it.

  What the hell was so hard to understand about my wanting to keep her safe?

  She wasn’t a mistake. She could never be a mistake. What we shared could never be a mistake. But it didn’t stop how much it hurt. Nonetheless, it was probably for the best that she ran off. That she was pissed off at me. That she left instead of stayed. It would do both of us a lot of good with the feelings we’d gotten ourselves into. Maybe this situation would turn her attention elsewhere so she didn’t get tangled up in a dangerous asshole like me.

  It wouldn’t have ever worked with us anyway. Not with the kind of life I led.

  Even if she hated me, I would still have Rock check on her while I was gone.

  I stalked down the hallway and up the stairs to grab some towels. The kitchen was fucking soaked. It was soaked and it smelled like her. Two things I needed to rectify. I tossed some dirty towels down the stairs before grabbing clean ones, then I started digging around for cleaning supplies. I needed to wipe down that table. Wipe down the fridge. Wipe down just about every damn surface of my kitchen she touched.

  My life had become drenched in her.

  It took me almost an hour to clean up that damn kitchen. Then another thirty minutes to get the dishes cleaned up and out of the way. By the time I was done, I was dripping with sweat and aching for a hot shower. My body still smelled like her. The beautiful scent was enough to send my chest into overdrive. My gut clenched and a brick settled in my feet.

  I wanted Makenna to come back.

  Tossing the towels in the washer, I started them on the hottest cycle I could. Nothing in my house needed to smell like her after I was done cleaning it. Then I went upstairs and suffered through a cold shower to clean myself down. My mind still swirled with her. My cock still pulsed for her. What the hell had I been thinking getting myself tied up in a woman like her? A woman with a kid who had absolutely no idea the type of danger I was?

  Maybe being in jail for five months would rid me of my addiction to her.

  The washer churned downstairs and my house smelled of disinfected lemon. I pulled on a pair of pajama pants and flopped into bed, raking my hands down my face.

  Makenna should’ve been with me.

  She should’ve been against my body and pinned to my bed.

  I groaned as I rolled over, hoping sleep would take me under. I needed to prepare my mind for the mission at hand. I still had things with my own home I had to get together before I left it. Cleaning that needed to be done along with doors and windows that needed to be secured and shit.

  But before sleep could sink its talons into me, the foundation of my home began to rattle. And a dull roar, like a distant lion on the prowl, came rumbling up the road.

  Chapter 24

  Makenna

  I sat on the bed, my hair dripping wet from the shower I’d taken. I couldn’t believe how stupid I had been. Why in the world did I think things could be okay between myself and a man like Brewer? He couldn’t even tell me what he was getting into! I couldn’t have my daughter around someone like that! I wanted to punch a wall before crying into it. I wanted to kick a chair before flopping down and sobbing into its cushions. I needed to go to sleep and get my mind back into ‘mom mode’. I needed to take Mrs. Reinhart up on her offer for wine tomorrow and show up bright and early.

  I had to tuck away the woman in me and get back to focusing on my daughter.

  My brow furrowed at a sound emanating in the distance. What was that? The dull roar grew louder and the windows on my house began to shake.

  Were those… motorcycles?

  I snickered. Of course, Brewer would call his little buddies to come comfort him in his time of need. They were probably going to drink before going to tag some houses or something. Pathetic. Men needed to grow the hell up. The sound grew louder. So loud I couldn’t hear myself think. So, I bounded downstairs and readied myself to yell at them from my porch. Some people still wanted to sleep. Not everyone could ride around on bikes without a care in the damn world about anyone else.

  I needed to get sleep so I could go be a mother for the rest of my life.

  I pulled back the curtain in my living room and watched the motorcycles pull up into Brewer’s driveway. I saw six or seven men get off their bikes and walk up to his porch. I readied myself to go out there and tell them to get the hell out of the neighborhood so we could all sleep, but the sound of yelling caught my ear.

  I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but I knew it wasn’t good.

  I rushed to another window to get a better look at what was going on. I took stock of the leather cuts the men were wearing, and they weren’t the same as Brewer’s vest. These were navy with an emblem on the back that wasn’t a skull. It looked like a horse. Or maybe a saddle. A saddle on a horse?

  It wasn’t until one of them brandished a gun, however, that I knew Brewer was in trouble.

  I watched as they pulled down ski masks and kick the door in of his house as I slapped my hand across my face. I ducked down and pressed myself against the wall of my house as tears welled in my eyes. Those weren’t Brewer’s friends.

  The yelling grew and things began to crash down, and I didn’t know what to do.

  I peeked my head back up and saw one guy on the porch. He held two guns at his sides, swiveling his head in all directions. I ducked down every time he turned my way, hoping he wouldn’t see me. My hands shook and my stomach cramped with fear as tears streamed down my face. I wanted to run over there and help him. I wanted to find a way to get him out of there. No matter what Brewer was tied up in with his crew, no one deserved to be rushed by six men with guns.

  I had to call the police.

  No. If I called the police, they would probably arrest him as well. I didn’t want that. Brewer didn’t deserve it. I was angry with him and upset at his secretive ways, but the man didn’t deserve to go to prison. But the police would stereotype him if I called. They’d think he did something to provoke this other crew or gang or group or whatever.

  Skinned and Skulled.
>
  The name of his mechanic shop ran through my mind.

  We have a web page.

  It was the only shot I had at getting in touch with someone that could help Brewer.

  I ran back up the stairs and burst into my room. The commotion next door was growing louder and part of me worried I was too late. I opened my phone and began typing in the name of his mechanic shop, then dialed the only number that popped up for it. Then I put the phone to my ear and ran back downstairs to get a good look at what was still going on.

  Then, a gunshot popped off.

  “Ah!”

  “Hello?”

  My hand was trembling as I pressed the phone to my shoulder.

  “Skinned and Skulled. You there?”

  “Hi. Hello. I uh, m-... my name is Makenna, and-”

  “Did you say ‘Makenna’?”

  I furrowed my brow as another gunshot rang out.

  “Oh my god!”

  “Makenna, my name is Rock. I’m a friend of Brewer’s. Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I am. He’s not,” I said.

  “What’s going on?”

  Another gunshot roared through the air as I sat in the corner, trembling and fearing for Brewer’s life.

  “There were guys that came up the street. Wearing, um… navy vests with, like… a horse or something on it.”

  “Shit,” he said. “We’re on our way right now. What are they doing?”

  “They went into his house and now they’re shooting?” I said breathlessly.

  “Is Ana with you?”

  I furrowed my brow as I curled deeper into myself.

  “How do you know-?”

  “Answer the question, Makenna. Is Ana with you?” Rock asked.

  “No. She’s um… she’s at a sleepover.”

  “Good. Stay low and don’t let them see you. The guys and I are getting on our bikes now. Don’t open your door for anyone, do you hear me?”

  I nodded my head before I realized I needed to say it.

  “Yes,” I said with a whisper. “I hear you.”

  “Stay on the phone with me,” I said. “I’m gonna keep you on here until we start coming up the road. Do you know how many men there are?”

  “Six. Maybe seven? One’s standing on the porch with two guns in his hand.”

  “Good. Okay. I’ll send a couple of guys around the back of his house then. You’re not in Brewer’s house, are you?” he asked.

  Guilt pooled in my gut.

  Maybe I should’ve been.

  “No,” I said. “I’m not.”

  I chanced a peek out the window. I heard motorcycles revving in my ear, but I couldn’t hear them coming up the road. How far out where they? What did these men want with Brewer? Who were they and what were they looking for?”

  “Rock?” I asked.

  “What’s up?”

  “That guy isn’t on the porch anymore,” I said.

  “Stay down, Makenna. Brewer’s gonna kill me if something happens to you.”

  “Why?”

  I heard him chuckle through the phone, but he didn’t answer the question.

  “Do you see him anywhere? Since you’ve decided to be brave.”

  “I don’t,” I said. “Maybe he went back in the house.”

  I heard more shouting, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “They’re yelling in the house,” I said.

  “You go that way. We’ll pull up into his driveway,” Rock said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Talking to the guys. You said they’re yelling. Do you know what they’re saying?”

  “No. I can’t make it out. But none of them sound like Brewer. Please hurry. I don’t-”

  I clamped down onto my jaw to keep from speaking the words. I couldn’t put them out there. I had no right to after calling him a mistake.

  After calling us a mistake.

  “We don’t either,” Rock said. “We’re less than thirty seconds out. You should see us coming up the road anytime now.”

  Then, as if the heavens had opened up and dropped down a group of fallen angels, I heard the roaring of motorcycles coming up the road.

  And I recognized the emblem on the backs of their jackets.

  Chapter 25

  Brewer

  I peeked out from the closet as I heard a stampede of people enter my home. The second I heard the motorcycles roaring up the road, I knew something wasn’t right. I explicitly told the guys I would need tonight to get my affairs in order and take care of some things. I looked at the bed I had made up. I’d hopped off it and grabbed my gun and extra ammunition from my bedside drawer before heading to the closet. I’d made up my bed to look like I was underneath the covers so I could find a way to distract them. Going downstairs wasn’t a good idea, but staying upstairs meant I could funnel them in and pop them off from the crack in my closet door.

  For the first time since Makenna left, I was glad she was gone.

  I heard my front door come busting in and I cringed. Shit. I’d have to get that fixed before we enacted our plan. I held my gun at my side and listened as they started yelling across the house.

  “Hey! Where the hell are you?”

  “You thought you could get the jump on one of us?”

  “Did you think we wouldn’t figure out about your little plan, mother fucker?”

  I furrowed my brow as I listened to them fan out along my home. The plan? How the fuck did they know about our plan? I bit back my want to charge them in full-blooded anger.

  The fucking rat in our group.

  Whoever the hell it was, I was going to wring his fucking neck.

  I heard three pairs of footsteps come up the stairs. They were clearing the rooms on the top level of my home as I held my breath. I needed to be as quiet as I could. But I leveled my gun and propped it up through the crack in my closet door. My gun didn’t have a glossed finish for a reason. The black gun metal blended in with the darkness of my home, making me almost undetectable as they funneled into my room like idiots.

  Easy prey I could pick off one by one.

  Then, one of them shot the bed before feathers flew everywhere.

  “Shit.”

  “Pillows.”

  “Where the hell is he?”

  “Don’t leave any fucking door unopened in this damn house. They need to be taught a lesson.”

  I watched one of them creeping towards the closet door and I started forming a plan. Because the second I popped off my gun, they would all come running upstairs. If I put a bullet between his eyes and quickly shot out the knees of the two other guys in the room, there were at least two others that would make their way upstairs. I could run across the hall, throw open the window, and get out onto my roof while trying to defend myself from bullets that would fly. But I only had the magazine in my gun and the magazine in my pajama pants pocket, so I had to make sure I was conservative with my shots.

  But the dull roar of motorcycles off in the distance caught my ear.

  As well as theirs.

  “Shit.”

  “Did someone get a call out?”

  “You think that’s his club?”

  “Find that son of a bitch before they get here. Now!”

  I hoped to fuck that was my club. Though I had no idea how the hell they’d know to come check up on me. A stampede of feet fell onto all floors of my home as they quickly looked around for me. The man in front of me lunged for the closet door and I squeezed the trigger, landing one straight between his eyes.

  “He’s up here!”

  “Get your asses up here now!”

  I leveled my gun at the man next to my bed and put two in his chest. He fell against my wall and slumped to the floor, leaving stains I knew I’d never get out of my wall and carpets. The roar of the motorcycles got louder as I turned and put another bullet between the eyes of one of the men in the hallway, then I rushed across the hall and looked out the window.

  Relief flooded my
system when I saw the guys pull up.

  Gunshots rang out on my front lawn and my eyes darted over to Makenna’s house. Was it possible? Could she have been the one that called the guys? Was she okay? My heart raced with fear as I ducked down behind my guest bed, then checked my magazine. I had four rounds left in the one I had. And with the gunshots ringing out downstairs, even the extra magazine wouldn’t be enough to get me out of there. I steadied my breathing and closed my eyes, paying attention to my surroundings. Footsteps. Trigger fingers. I zoned in on every sound I could identify around me.

  Until I heard boot steps falling on the carpet of my hallway.

  “Brewer!”

  I heard Rock’s voice yelling for me downstairs as I laid down onto the floor.

  “Where the fuck are you!?”

  I aimed my gun underneath the bed at the doorway as the footsteps grew closer.

  “Damn it, Brewer! Come on! This isn’t funny!”

  Then, I saw the shadow appear around the corner of the door. The footsteps stopped and I held my breath. Despite the chaos happening in my home and the irreparable damage I’d never be able to fix; my mind was trained on one thing. The man standing in the hallway staring into my guest bedroom. He wasn’t saying anything, nor was he moving. Just staying there with his feet pointed towards me. I looked over to the side and saw a dim reflection in a shoddy mirror I had in the room, and the man was looking straight at me. Staring at me through the mirror’s reflection with a damn mask over his face.

  Then I heard him move.

  I shot one bullet at his left ankle, grazing it, and he caved. Then I stood up from the floor and shot him again in his left thigh. He stumbled out of the room and I heard him tripping down the stairs as I stood there, listening to everything happening around me. My mind still rushed back to Makenna. I turned around and looked out my window over at her house. I saw lights on. I saw shadowed movement behind the drawn curtains.

  Even in the gunfire raining down in my home, my body still longed to be next to hers.

  I shook my head as I stormed out of my house. I wanted that masked little fucker in the palm of my hand. I crept down the stairs as the gunfire slowed to a grinding halt, but everywhere I looked, that man was nowhere to be found.