Restricted MC (The Nighthawks MC Book 14)

by Bella Knight

  Restricted MC

  The Nighthawks Motorcycle Club

  Bella Knight

  Book

  14

  Edited by

  Natasha Lind

  Contents

  Recap from Book 13

  1. Warriors

  2. New Life

  3. Weary Love

  4. Lost and Found

  5. Blade

  Afterword

  About the Author

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  Recap from Book 13

  Jerry made it up the long drive to the Rock Farm. At the border, a woman dressed from head to toe in black was on the fence with a rifle. The other fence had another woman with an entire motorcycle getup and a revving bike. She flashed her fingers.

  Jerry rode up parallel. “This is CrystalLyne,” he said. “Fourteen years old.”

  The faceplate went on. “Hop on,” said Fyrst. “We protect women.”

  Jerry helped her down onto shaking legs. The young woman nodded, hopped on. “My mom’s at the Venetian,” she said. “Went to bed early.”

  Fyrst got the girl on the bike, handed her a smaller-sized helmet. “Later,” she said. “First, safety.” The girl strapped on the helmet, put her hands around Fyrst’s waist, and Fyrst went out the back, not back onto the road.

  “Can’t stand letting go of my principal,” said Jerry, to Wraith, the voice in her ear.

  “Normally, not a good idea, but that woman can do things with a bike that brings a Harley to its full joyous capability.” Wraith clicked off, then back on. “Stay and help,” she said.

  Jerry got off the bike, accepted another rifle, and slid around the side of the house. He saw a flash back toward the front, whirled around, and lowered his rifle when a tiny figure in brown braids, the rest of her curly hair tied back, climbed up the man and stuck a knife in his neck. He dropped. Rayne grinned.

  Jerry nodded, and kept circling the Rock House the other way. A second man crept around the side. Jerry knew the kickback would be fierce, so he held the rifle slightly away from his shoulder. He shot, and the man fell. He sped forward, removed the man’s gun, and patted him down. The guy had a wide knife, and two more guns, one in a boot. He pocketed them all, and slipped farther forward.

  A gun barked behind the Soldier Rock House. Two shots, fast, a .45. He ran forward, and Queenie nodded at him. He nodded back, and slipped back into the shadows. He figured there would be someone to his far left on the way in, and turned that way. The man did himself the favor of running low, but he silhouetted himself against a mesquite tree. Jerry lined up the rifle, breathed out, squeezed the trigger, working to avoid the tree. Shooting a good tree would be bad. The man jerked, went down.

  He kept to his sliver of where he was supposed to be. “Friendly” fire wasn’t really friendly. He heard a scream, high and tight.

  Queenie started up to him. He waved her back, scanned deep into the night. A motor started up. He put the rifle down, and ran toward it. The guy on the Kawasaki looked like a barrel hanging over it. Jerry kept running, and then shot twice. The gun barked in his hand. The barrel rolled end over the bike, and the bike kept going, rolling over the man’s outstretched leg. The man howled. The bike fell over, and kept spinning its wheels until it suddenly stopped.

  Queenie was like a cheetah running past Jerry. Jerry kept the gun trained on the man as Queenie rolled him over. “Wraith, ambulance, far left of the property,” said Jerry.

  “Already called the police, EMTs… kind of everyone.”

  Jerry knelt. “Tell us who sent you,” he said.

  “Soldnereinheit,” said the man in guttural German.

  “Mercenary unit,” translated Wraith into Jerry’s ear.

  “Gesundheit,” said Queenie. “And, I’m not stupid. This is a Hessian.”

  “Hessian Front,” said Wraith. “Lovely.” Jerry heard typing. “And expensive. Someone hates one or all of us.”

  “Where are the girls, and why the hell are the dogs quiet?”

  “Gone,” said Queenie. “Freya took them.”

  “Good,” said Jerry. “I’m stupid, didn’t see the van.”

  “Fastest puppy roundup ever,” said Queenie. She looked down at the mercenary at her feet. “Who the fuck attacks women, children, and puppies?”

  “Someone fucking stupid,” said Wraith, in Jerry’s head.

  Bao had the gun. Nico had the rifle. Nico slid out onto the roof, and Bao had the girls and dogs in the crawlspace under the house, through to the safe room. Callie’s gun barked as a man slid up to the back door and put something against it. It barked again when some asshole stepped out of the woods. Nico was looking the other way, and the rifle boomed once, twice. Someone cried out.

  There were more booms, from across the way. There was an Apache cry that broke the night. Nantan, figured Nico. Nico circled the roof, and caught a guy with very white hands trying to slip in the back door. He felt the rifle against his shoulder, squeezed the trigger, let it bark. He reloaded.

  Nantan watched Chayton go down. Chayton wore a vest, and there was no bloom of blood, but he was enraged. His warrior’s heart beat. He thought of his ancestors, moving silently through grasslands, up hills, over stones. He slid to the side, and threw. His knife caught the shooter in the neck. He gave a warrior’s cry. A hand reached out, dragged Chayton off the patio into the house. Josh, thought Nantan. He felt fierce pride in his son.

  A Wyandot named Ry on the roof shot across the back. Something fell. Nantan grinned. The young man kept himself low, and crept around to the right. Nantan circled to the left, seeking the men willing to kill children. He heard Chayton cursing in Apache, and saw a gun out a window. He dropped, and a shadow in the distance fell.

  “Good shot,” said Nantan, in Apache. He heard Chayton’s wheezy chuckle.

  Nantan crept forward, then whirled. He held out his arm and pulled the trigger. The man sneaking
up behind David’s prone position fell. His bloody spray sprinkled David’s boots. David stood, and made a rude gesture at Nantan. Nantan made one back, and both men grinned. They circled back to the barn. They heard a loud plop, and something fell. They swept around, and a man that had been trying to enter the barn on the far left had been smashed to the ground by a bag of horse feed. Henry ran up and used the leather ties from his hair to tie up the groaning man. He looked up, but Damia was gone from the window.

  A shot rang out from behind the main house. There was a scream, and Nantan and David ran like the wind.

  1

  Warriors

  “Defend your people, or you have no worth as a warrior.”

  They ran around from opposite sides. The man on the ground had a shot through one shoulder, and a knitting needle stuck into his left hand. He had his right hand up, gun in hand, focused on Jake, who was shooting down at him.

  Nantan got on one knee, and shot from the man’s unguarded left side. He hit the man in the shoulder just above the knitting needle, making him howl. Then Jake got him right between the eyes.

  Nantan stood up, walked over, and kicked the man’s gun away. “This is going to be hard to explain.”

  “Not so hard,” said David, phone in his hand. “Ivy took off like a bat out of hell, made it to her place. They hit her club at closing time, and shot Pocero.”

  “What the fuck?” said Jake, out the window.

  “Nothing wrong with his hearing,” said Nantan.

  “Pocero’s alive, Ivy says he was shot in the back with his vest on. Bruised spine,” said David. “And Wraith told Ivy that the people who High Desert were protecting that were out in public were attacked, two dead so far. And the Rock House, too.”

  Nantan looked confused. “Oh, the Valkyrie house with the new rockers from New York and the new Soldier Pack.” He put his rifle over his shoulder. “Chayton,” he said, and loped back to his house across the paddock.

  David raised his head. “Damia,” he said. He heard the hoof beats, and Damia came around the corner and was bareback on a pony. She looked like her mother, Ivy. She had one braid down the side, with a single blue bead. She looked very…Valkyrie.

  “No more booms,” said Damia. “The bad guys are all down?”

  “I think so,” said David.

  “Damn skippy!” said Jake. He stuck his white-haired head out the window. “Don’t worry, cutie. We’ve got you covered!”

  “Stay here,” said David. “There may be more.”

  Damia tilted up her chin. “No, Grandfather. I will seek my sisters.”

  David thought quickly. “I’ll take Shadow.”

  “Good, Grandfather.”

  She walked the pony as he raced to get the great black horse, a rescue stallion. He still bore the scars, but gentle Damia had tamed his warrior heart. David didn’t even take time for the reins; he just opened the stall door, climbed up its side, got on the horse, and rode. He followed a little girl, and they rode out into the night.

  Nico, on the roof, waved as they rode up. “We good?” he said. “Gotta let the girls and dogs out.”

  “I’ll do a perimeter search,” said David. “Damia, watch after your sisters.”

  She nodded, and then grinned up at him. “Always, Grandfather,” she said. She sat tall. He smiled down at her, and took off at a lope.

  Callie led the girls and dogs out, Bao bringing up the rear, out of the safe room, underneath the house, and onto the porch. Damia slipped off her horse, and hugged each one.

  “I’m guarding you tonight,” Damia said, then repeated it in Mandarin.

  Jie looked shocked. “Thank you, honored sister.” She bowed. “Your Mandarin is beautiful.”

  “I’m autistic, not stupid,” said Damia, in English. Callie laughed, and reached out to touch her hair. “It’s okay,” said Damia. “I know you need to hug me to know I’m safe. Grandfather David told me the rules.”

  Callie gave a watery-eyed grin, and gently hugged her daughter. She kept it short, but it felt longer. She tried not to cry as she gave her daughter a hug for the very first time.

  Chayton sat on an overstuffed chair, as Little Nico brought him a glass of water, and Josh helped him slide blue gel ice packs under a white bandage. “Kinda odd to be adding, not binding,” he said, looking into Nantan’s eyes.

  Nantan broke down the rifle, and put it back over the door. He went over and knelt at Chayton’s feet. He stroked Chayton’s cheek, and then looked into brown eyes that were swimming with pain.

  “No transgender jokes, love,” said Nantan. “You have the heart of a warrior,” he said in Apache.

  “All our children do,” Chayton said, in Apache. “They guarded the house with baseball bats,” he said in English.

  “That’s our warrior clan,” said Nantan.

  Ivy got off the phone with Wraith. “The window replacer cometh. He owes Wraith a favor. I’ll stay. You two go home.”

  “I’m out,” said Cougar. She laid the broom against the wall.

  “Later, girl,” said Ivy. They hugged, and she left via the back door.

  “Lily wasn’t attacked,” said Ace. “Neither was the Nighthawks’ clubhouse. Henry’s still there.”

  “This makes no sense,” said Ivy. “Why attack the farm and not the clubhouse? Why attack here, and Wraith’s work, and Bannon’s people?”

  “They’re after Bannon, the Valkyries, and the Nighthawks,” said Ace. “They went after the people, the protectees, the women and children, the families. For what?”

  “To make us vulnerable, or distracted,” said Ivy. “To keep us running around, maybe to get us jammed up by police while defending ourselves.”

  “We could have a lot of us in jail, just because we shoot back.” Ace lifted his head. “They didn’t know.”

  “About what?” asked Ivy.

  “About Wraith.” He paused. “The spider,” said Ace.

  “She hates that name,” said Ivy. “But that’s right.”

  “So, they went after allies. Who was their real target?” asked Ace.

  “Bannon,” said Ivy. “Or Gregory.”

  “Call Wraith,” said Ace. “She’s gotta know.”

  “On it,” said Ivy.

  Wraith was exactly where she wanted to be, back in the safehouse, with Sigrun at her side. She and Thandie sat back-to-back, each with three screens, both tracking the clients, their operatives, and the attacks and aftermath. Frenchie, their FBI contact, was making the rounds, letting local law enforcement know about the Hessians.

  Wraith knew the Hessian Front. Swiss, Germans, some Belgians, and all mercenaries with a bad reputation, and definite neo-Nazi leanings. Reports from their people, the police, Henry’s farmhouse, and the Rock Farmhouse had burly blonde and brown-haired men with no necks. Some had hidden neo-Nazi tattoos, such as Hitler’s birthdate and tiny swastikas hidden in between toes and on the soles of their feet. That’s dedication, thought Wraith. Getting anything tattooed between her toes sounded horrific. She wouldn’t do it, not even Sigrun or Saber’s name, or those of her numerous children.

  The babies were fine, all of them. Gregory had taken Ivy and Callie’s babies, and Tarak, and they were at Gregory’s house, with Saber and Gregory guarding the children and Katya. That was a relief.

  So, killers who went for women and children. After singers and artists, business people, and movie stars, who were their clients. Killers willing to shoot police officers in the back.

  “No, they were hired,” said Wraith, as Ivy fed Ace’s suppositions back to Wraith.

  “Hired by whom?” asked Ivy.

  “Daisy Chain’s on it,” said Wraith, her hacker friend, now under the employ of Bannon and Gregory via Wraith. “It has to be one of our clients. I think they were after High Desert, and went after our clients to make people think we’re incompetent, make us lose business. They know we’re allied with the Nighthawks and the Valkyries, and where they were holed up. So, they’re okay, first-run investigators. Bu
t they didn’t know about me, or about how very good we were.” She grimaced. “Bunch of perfect-race punks saw dark skin and missing limbs and then underestimated us. Again.”

  Thandie reached back her fist, and fist-bumped Wraith. “Racist fucked-up assholes with teeny-tiny brains.”

  “Word,” said Wraith.

  Ivy laughed. “Door,” said Ivy. “Getting it fixed now. Thanks, Wraith. Thank you for the door, and for keeping us all alive.”

  Wraith’s eyes misted with tears, and she said, “Any fucking day, any fucking time.”

  “You need help taking out the rest of these Hessian Front fucks, you call,” said Ivy, and then she was gone.

  “We need any help taking out these Hessian Front fucks?” asked Thandie.

  “No,” said Wraith. “I have Daisy Chain.” She thought about that for a moment. “We have Daisy Chain.” She thought about what she said. “We have Daisy Chain, the Valkyries, the Nighthawks, and the Iron Knights. And us.”

  “We do,” said Thandie. “Let’s get our ducks in a row, and then you can get the fuck out of here if you want.” She grinned evilly. “Then we go after the Hessian Front Fucks.”

  “You’re on,” said Wraith. They bumped fists again.

  By the time dawn came, the medical examiners had taken away the bodies, and the guns. No one was in custody; Frenchie had smoothed everything over.

  And Daisy Chain was on her fourth Jolt cola. She reported to the still-awake Wraith and Thandie. “I hear ya about the angry ones. No dice on that entertainment lawyer that tried to put the moves on CrystalLine. Guy fled the country, proved he was in Thailand on airport footage. Guy’s drunk as a skunk on mai tais at a tropical pool, and has been for two weeks. Sent a Thai operator to verify. Misogynistic bastard can’t remember his own damn name.” She grinned. “That idiot’s gonna run out of funds soon. He’s on his wife’s account, and all of his have been frozen for the lawsuits. The lawyer found two other girls.”