Vacant MC (The Nighthawks MC Book 11)

by Bella Knight

  Vacant MC

  The Nighthawks Motorcycle club

  Bella knight

  Book

  11

  Edited by

  Natasha Lind

  Contents

  1. Recap from Book 10

  2. Vacancy

  3. Additions

  4. Joining

  5. Trial

  6. Renaissance

  About the Author

  Afterword

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  1

  Recap from Book 10

  They did the same routine for two more days, watching Anna/Joru. All except for Gregory, who was teaching the class. “This is fucking Groundhog Day,” said Wraith under her breath to herself, about the movie where a man repeated the same day of his life over and over. “At least Bill Murray learned to play the piano at the end.”

  She looked with her tiny binoculars for the umpteenth time. She analyzed all of Gregory’s workers, then did a search for organizations that truly needed his help. She found an entertainment lawyer in Los Angeles with a lot of clients that did Vegas shows. She found several high-class businessmen that did a lot of work in Vegas. She found people with network and other security issues in Vegas, including not one (but two) credit reporting agencies. She put them all in the “Possible Business” file. She cleaned up errors and duplicates and created “deep” files for things Bannon or Gregory wanted to keep secret from the rest of the company.

  Lunch was a frozen chicken and rice meal that tasted like sawdust. She ground her way through the data. Some Iron Knights showed up to take the class. She was delighted. They would find out more about their bikes, and they would also be packing weapons. The Valkyries had lovers and even husbands among them; they knew about Joru. They went indoors for class, in the heat of the day, then came back out to practice.

  Wraith saw something that shouldn’t be there. Something wrong. The class was in back, their Harleys roaring. Bonnie and her ladies were slowly reassembling the Fat Boy, part by part, with replacement parts. The angles were…

  Wraith moved forward and got in her own blind. She looked through her scope. The ladies were moving around, circling. She turned on her mic, slid open the window, checked the wind speed.

  Where was the something-wrong? Was it a reflection? Something moving that shouldn’t be moving? She sent a text to Sigrun, on the ground. Sigrun deliberately walked in front of Joru to look at it, then the reflection came again, to the left. Something that shouldn’t be there. Wraith lined up the shot, and squeezed, just as Sigrun threw Joru on the ground and laid over her. Two shots hit, one into the Harley Fat Boy, and one into the dust just in front of where Sigrun had been. Bonnie threw her wrench in the direction of the shot.

  Staff Sargeant Tori Kym had her gun out, pointing in the direction of Bonnie’s wrench. Bonnie had another wrench in her hand. Sigrun had a gun in one hand, a knife in the other. Bikes buzzed like angry bees as the Iron Knights rode toward the sounds of a war. Wraith sighted, squeezed again. Something went pfft past her hair. Her distinctive platinum blonde hair. She grabbed a cap, put it on, sighted again. Tori and the Iron Knights put down suppressive fire as Wraith sighted again. She waited until she found the empty space inside her head, pulled, and then felt something slam into her chest. She held up her hand, grateful for her shooting glasses, as the glass shattered. She went flying back, the gun clattering down. She laid there, gasping, unable to see. Something pounded up the stairs.

  Henry came bursting into the room, gun up. He waved, and someone else was breathing on her cheek. “Wraith, baby,” said Gregory, as he grabbed her arm and dragged her from the room.

  She had time to see Henry holster the gun and pick up the sniper rifle. She cried out, wiped blood from her face with her good hand. He had her bad one. She gasped, in, out, in, out, remembering how to breathe.

  “Fucking woman,” Gregory said.

  “Not you,” she said, tongue thick in her mouth. “Already got… husband and wife.”

  “You fucked with my database,” he said. “Now it looks like some sort of Matrix movie in there, without all the green stuff scrolling around.” He knelt, took her pulse. “What were you thinking?”

  “I... was thinking… would do an awesome job… get hired.” She felt him wipe blood from her cheek.

  “You’re hired,” said Gregory. “Our stuff is compressed, backed up, firewalled. We’ve got appointments all day long that aren’t back to back, and we’ve got better clients. You got us out of the ‘dirty dozen’ that were too much trouble to keep.” He used his hands to check her body. She gasped, nearly clawed his hand off, pushing it away. “You’ve been shot,” he said, completely unnecessarily. He picked her up.

  Wraith heard the pfft of the gun firing, then another pfft. Gregory had a gun in one hand, and his other hand on her shoulder.

  “We’ve got to get you out of here. Don’t know if we’re still pinned, but we can get you down the stairs and out the back.”

  “Do. It,” said Wraith.

  Her breath came in shallow gasps. Her feet were sweating in the athletic socks in her boots. She focused on her feet, her hands. Not her middle, where it felt like a very small elephant was sitting on her. She bit her lip as he lifted her, and carried her into the elevator. She tried to grasp him, to hold on, but her fingers weren’t working.

  Sigrun was at the bottom. “Got her out. Damn near killed us, but we got her out. Tori’s up, checking out the nest. Bonnie’s spitting mad. Wife, you die, then I will personally go to Valhalla and kick your ass.”

  “I. Hate. Hospitals.” Wraith focused on Sigrun, her tiny fingers, with paint still in the nail bed —blue and green. Her mouth was pink, in a thin line, now filled with rage and fear.

  “Do I look like I care?” asked Sigrun. “Bus is around the corner.” They went out the back door, and Tad of the Iron Knights was there, gun drawn. Sigrun still had a knife in one hand, a gun in
the other. She took the rear, eyes swiveling like they were on stalks.

  “Fuck,” said Tad. “Hearing that monster got away.”

  “Find. It. Kill. It.” Sigrun tried to not let her head loll.

  The pounding of their feet made her head pound deep inside. Another shot rang out. Gregory took a knee, and Sigrun and Tad opened fire. Sigrun breathed through the fire in her chest and the chung-pop of the firing, repeating. She felt a knife pressed into her hands.

  “Baby,” said Sigrun. “If I go down…”

  Wraith managed to flop her arm onto her belly. She held the knife, point down, pointing it at her bellybutton. She heard more fire, then the world went completely black.

  2

  Vacancy

  “Doing things over and over again and expecting different results is insanity. It’s also boring.”

  Gregory screamed, “Shit! She’s passed out. Sigrun, any blood coming out of her mouth?”

  “No,” said Sigrun. “Pull her to your chest and run.”

  Gregory spat out the code to Sigrun, and they ran out the back gate as it was still opening. The bus was right there. Sigrun covered them while Gregory stepped into the back of the ambulance. Sigrun had to decide. Go with the ambulance, or go back in? She thought of her wife’s clear mission: Keep Joru safe. So Sigrun shut the door and tapped on it, and the ambulance was gone. It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.

  Sigrun ran back in and shut the gate. She heard it lock. She kept her head down and followed the wall. The sound of gunfire grew louder. And then as she listened more, it grew even louder still. Then, the sound of an engine, but not a Harley. Something like an off-road vehicle, maybe like a Jeep. She turned and slithered back to the gate. A dune buggy went flying by. Two Harleys chased it, one of them was one of those brand-new models, and one she knew well. Henry’s braid flew out from under his helmet. An arm came out, and the two motorcycles swerved to avoid gunfire. Then, just like that, they were gone.

  Sigrun ran low, because she couldn’t assume the perpetrators were gone, and burst onto a scene of controlled chaos. Ex-soldiers with various artificial limbs moved among those on the ground, with med kits in hand. Sigrun put her safety on her gun and put it back in her boot, then her knife in the other boot. Staff Sergeant Tori Kym was alternately barking out orders and yelling into a headset. Sigrun ran forward, ready with her hands. Tori threw a pair of medical gloves at her. Sigrun caught them in her sprint forward, and she knelt. Bonnie was down, bleeding from her shoulder. Sigrun slid on one blue glove, then the other.

  Sigrun gently pushed Bonnie against the wall, then caught a med kit that was thrown at her. “Joru?” asked Sigrun, opening the kit.

  “Gone,” said Bonnie. “Her friend took her out back. I heard a motorcycle, and some weird words. Something about an ‘our’ and an ‘ugg…’”

  “Or-uggr?” asked Sigrun. She grabbed a bandage and put it onto the wound.

  “Yes,” said Bonnie. “And gah, like they were gargling. Two voices, both female.”

  “Safe and go, in Old Norse,” said Sigrun. “The Valkyries have her. I have you. Now, I’m going to have to put pressure onto the wound, and it will hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.” Bonnie nodded, then cried out as Sigrun pressed the wound into the wall.

  Tori knelt next to her and spoke on the phone. “Older female, fifties, excellent health, GSR to the right shoulder, pressure bandage applied.” She stood up. “Guess I need a list of your medications,” said Tori.

  Bonnie barked out a half-laugh, half yelp. “None,” she said.

  Then, as if by magic, Ghost was there, and shoved Sigrun aside. She peeked under the bandage, and applied pressure again. “You jus’ got a shoulder tap,” said Ghost. “You be fine.” She turned and yelled to Tori. “Hey, soldier lady. ETA on the bus?”

  “Around the corner,” yelled Tori. “Police and FBI should be here in 3…2…1.” A number of cars, from a regular police cruiser to a black FBI car, now came barreling in.

  “Hey!” barked Tori. “Get the fuck out of the way of the ambulances. Are you stupid or just insane?” She directed police cars as if she was a commander at a battle. The ambulances rode up the middle, and soon EMTs were spread out.

  Sigrun took off the gloves. “No offense, ‘cause you’re probably going to end up in the same hospital, but I gotta see to my wife,” she said to Bonnie and Ghost.

  “I woulda give you ma keys, but da po-leese gonna have your ass in interrogation,” said Ghost. “Running away now’ll get you shot up.”

  Sigrun sighed. “I hate it when you’re right.” She took out her phone, and texted 911 to a relay. It may or may not get to Saber, depending on how deep he was under, especially if contact would get him killed.

  She sent another to Bannon. Bannon called her back. “Shit,” he said.

  “Gregory’s on the way to the hospital with Wraith,” said Sigrun. “She’s still in her agency, didn’t quit, so I’m expecting alphabet letters soon. Quite the shootout between someone wanting Joru dead. You know her as Anna, the victim. The Valkyries have her. Gregory went after the shootout in a green dune buggy.”

  “What the fuck?” said Bannon. “We’ll track it. They’ll probably drive it into a bigger truck, though, and/or try to off-road through the desert. Henry riding an overland bike?”

  “Dunno,” said Sigrun. “Still learning Harleys. I know the Soldier Pack’s been making them… looks like the one to the left of me.” She took a photo, and sent it in. “But…”

  The phone was snatched out of her hand. Sigrun grabbed the offending hand, twisted it, and caught the phone. The cop dropped his hand back and stepped away.

  He started to pull his gun, but a woman in a black suit stood in front of Sigrun. “You’re dumb, aren’t you?” she said to the cop. “You just assaulted a civilian.” She pointed up at the camera above them. “And, your bodycam will show the same thing.”

  “Chief told me to collect cell phones,” he said, massaging his wrist.

  “By grabbing them off of people talking on them? Officer… Hartley?” She took notes.

  “Who the hell are you?” asked Officer Hartley.

  “I’m Special Agent French, FBI.” She whipped out her credential, showed it; then stowed it. She turned to Sigrun and held out her hand. Sigrun placed the phone in it. Gregory was shouting into the phone, then calmed as he heard Frenchie’s name.

  “Frenchie,” he said, “let’s talk.”

  Frenchie put the phone up to her ear. “Talk,” she said.

  Bonnie left, Ghost still at her side. “See ya ladies later,” she said.

  “She can’t leave,” said Hartley.

  “Yes, she can,” said Sigrun. “She was not here at the time of the damn shooting.”

  “Hartley,” said a strong voice. “Get away from those women. You stupid or something?”

  “Lieutenant Pocero,” said Sigrun. “We’ve never met, but Henry and Saber say you rock.”

  “You’re a Valkyrie,” said Lieutenant Pocero, and they shook hands.

  “Sigrun,” Sigrun said. “We were protecting an ex-military woman named Anna. She was… assaulted in the military, but no charges were filed against the doers.”

  “More than one?” asked Lieutenant Pocero. “Charming.”

  “She got out, and we looked into it for her, trying to find out where they were. I have no idea if Anna —we call her Joru, she’s a Valkyrie now. Well, I have no idea if she wants to press charges now, or not. We were just trying to find out where they were.”

  “And?” asked Lieutenant Pocero.

  “One of them is about to be picked up by the DEA all the way across the country from here. She shot an agent, or so Wraith told me.”

  “Wraith here?” asked Lieutenant Pocero.

  “On her way to the hospital. She was shot by the other doer, a military sniper.”

  “One sniper didn’t do all of this,” said Frenchie, shutting the phone and handing it back to Sigrun. “He had help.”

/>   “Anna had protection,” said Sigrun. “Some Valkyries have Anna/Joru. Wraith was up over there, in a blind, looking for weird stuff.” She pointed at the room above the classrooms. “He was shooting from over there,” she said, pointing at an office building. “That building’s not ours, it belongs to the next property over.” It was a square, glass thing, six stories tall. “Don’t know the angle. Wraith did. She shot at the shooter. Bonnie threw a wrench in the direction of the bad guy’s shots. Then there was more fire, so I tried to get everyone down. I ran for Wraith, but Gregory was there first. Got her in a bus, ran along the wall on that side of the property. After Gregory got her in, I saw a dune buggy. Bannon thinks that…”

  Frenchie held up a hand. “Henry checked in with Bannon, who told me. They lost the dune buggy when it went across some desert sand, cut in and out of traffic, went over a median (opposing traffic), and over a guardrail. They drove it into a white and red moving truck, which narrows it down to several thousand vehicles.”

  “Lovely,” said Lieutenant Pocero.

  “Lovely is right. Henry said our suspects are the male shooter, and two females with a lot of firepower, all wearing body armor and motorcycle helmets.”

  “I’ll get the tape from the building,” said Lieutenant Pocero.

  “No, sorry,” said Frenchie. “Wraith is still Agency. An attack on her is met with all seriousness. We’ll do that.” She smiled at Lieutenant Pocero. “Saber said you were the competent one. So, mop this up, and we’ll find the baddies who are shooting up Las Vegas.”

  “Over an assault,” said Lieutenant Pocero.