White Lies

by Autumn Jones Lake

  Under the table, I bump Teller with my leg, hoping he’ll shut the fuck up.

  “Your National board doesn’t have anyone else they want to send up here to keep your territory?” I can’t help asking the question. This seems way too simple. Not that it’s unheard of.

  “Not enough bodies. Bulk of our clubs’ out west. Montana, Idaho, Oregon. None of them want to come this far east.”

  “That where you’re headed? Not exactly sunny skies all year round.”

  “I’ll be retiring in good standing. Headed to San Diego to be near my daughter and her kids.”

  Teller and I share a look.

  “All right.” I face Whisper again. “I need to take it to the table, obviously, but I don’t see an issue with your request. Anyone asks, we’ll make it clear you closed voluntarily. Not sure we can do much more than that.”

  “Appreciate it, son.”

  If this motherfucker calls me ‘son’ one more time… “To be clear, this can’t be a situation where your club changes its mind a few years from now and rides back into town thinking we’re handing Slater back.”

  Whisper stares at me for a few seconds without speaking. Yeah, that was probably a dick comment, but it needed to be said.

  “Understood.”

  “What are you doing with your drive-in theater?” Teller asks.

  Whisper’s eyes widen. “Why, you want to buy it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Been looking for a buyer. On ‘paper’ it doesn’t sound all that profitable.” Whisper lets out a chuckle. The possibility of a truckload of cash coming his way outweighs his annoyance with Teller’s mouth. “We did the digital upgrade a couple years ago, so it won’t be cheap.”

  Teller jots something down on a piece of paper and passes it to Whisper. “Send me the details.”

  “You got it.” He stares at both of us for a few beats. “Never thought I’d sell the place. I’d feel better knowing it was in your hands.”

  He leaves for the men’s room, and I shoot a questioning look Teller’s way. “Since when do you want to run a movie theater?”

  “Why not? We loved that place when we were kids.” He glances over at Heidi and Charlotte. “Nice summer job for all our kids when they get older.”

  “Who’s running it until then?”

  “I’ll find someone.”

  “Thought you were busy starting up your wannabe chicken farm empire?”

  He chuckles. “Diversify.”

  “Oh, Alexa wants a peacock by the way.”

  He laughs even harder. “Random.”

  “Could you try not to antagonize him?”

  “I thought we were playing ‘good biker, bad biker’?” He fakes an innocent expression.

  “Stop trying to piss him off.”

  He leans in. “Holy fuck. Did you ever think Wolf Knights would give up their territory?”

  “Fuck no.” Priest and the rest of the National Board will be thrilled. They’ve been pushing for us to take over more territory for a while. Now, Slater county and the surrounding areas Wolf Knights control is being handed to us on a silver platter.

  Unfortunately, we still haven’t gotten control of Ironworks. So, this means our club will be taking over more territory with unknown issues.

  “Things must be worse than we thought,” Teller echoes my inner conflict.

  Great, can’t wait to inherit more problems.

  Twenty-Seven

  Murphy

  As Whisper returns to our table, shouts from the bar grab our attention. Two guys are in each other’s’ faces. A third one nearby is furiously tapping on his phone.

  I catch Charlotte’s eye. She motions that she and Heidi are headed to the ladies’ room, away from trouble.

  Teller elbows me, and I shake my head. Not our place to get involved, yet.

  “Barely out of diapers and running his mouth.” Whisper shakes his head. “This is what outlaws are turning into.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call any of them outlaws.”

  Remy attempts to cool down the argument. Guess they’re not receptive to the intervention. One of the guys pops off and slams a right hook into Remy’s jaw.

  “Fuck.” Looks like we’ll be getting involved now.

  Remy’s head snaps back. Teller and I jump out of our seats and rush to the guy. While we hold him back, he keeps shouting insults at Remy. Something about overcharging for beer. Cranky old fucker or not, maybe Whisper has a point. What the fuck kind of bullshit did we stumble into here?

  Remy shakes off the punch and motions for us to let the guy go. As soon as we release him, Remy pummels the kid in the face and chest, dropping him to the ground.

  Griff and two others jump in to finish the punishment.

  Teller and I take a step back and let Remy regain control of the situation. This isn’t our fight. The guys are almost done putting the boots to the instigator. If they’re going to form a support club, we have to let them handle minor scuffles like this on their own turf without interference.

  “Break it up,” Remy commands, holding out his arms for the others to back off.

  The kid on the floor picks up his head and holds out his hand to signal his surrender.

  Over as soon as it started.

  Cool air breezes in, and I turn my attention toward the door. Some asshole in a black leather jacket with red and white stripes down the sleeves struts into the bar. He’s wearing a helmet, so no way to tell who it is. The way he isn’t eager to take off the helmet indoors, combined with his stance, pings my danger meter.

  I press my arm into Teller’s chest, backing him up a few steps. “Move,” I say just loud enough for him to hear.

  His gaze narrows on the guy in the helmet. “Who the—”

  Stripe-jacket pulls a gun and squeezes off a few rounds into the center of the bar.

  “Get down!” I shove Teller to my left, away from the shooter. Together, we haul ass to our corner.

  “You know, I’m getting really tired of having bullets flung at me,” Teller growls as we duck behind the table.

  “You shittin’ me?” Whisper bitches, already out of breath as he hoists his ass out of his seat.

  Teller and I press our palms under the table, flipping it on its side. Glassware, dishes, and utensils go flying. The table’s big enough for the three of us to take cover behind. At least I hope the wood is thick enough to slow down a bullet or ten.

  Whisper huffs and puffs his way down to the floor with us.

  Teller pulls his Glock out of its holster, and we both peek over the table. We’re too low, and there are too many people in the way to return fire. Right now, I’m more worried about Heidi and Charlotte walking out into this clusterfuck than anything else.

  “Get down.” I yank Teller to the floor with me while I wrestle my phone out of my pocket.

  Me: Stay put. Get behind something solid.

  “You ordering a pizza?” Teller glances over at my phone.

  “No, dick.” I finish and press send. “I told Heidi to stay put.” I send two more texts before stuffing my phone back in my pocket. “Sent Jake a text, too, he’s probably close by.”

  “Hudson’s outside,” Whisper says.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you have him come in?” Teller asks.

  I poke my head out to eyeball the shooter again. What if he already shot Hudson on his way inside? Even worse, what if Hudson decides to play cowboy and open fire in here?

  “He’s the one who wanted to step up and keep the club open,” Whisper explains.

  “He okay?” I ask.

  Whisper shows me his texts. “Says he didn’t recognize the guy. I told him to stay outside.”

  Hudson must be desperate to prove himself because not ten seconds later, he flies through the front door and tackles the shooter, yanking off his helmet in the process. But the shooter isn’t going down easy. He takes aim and blows a hole in his attacker’s shoulder.

  “And that’s why we didn’t try a flying tackle
,” I mutter.

  Teller snorts and elbows me.

  Before either of us can move out of our spot, the shooter jumps up. Without the helmet, his pale, pockmarked face is visible. Still don’t recognize him.

  The friend of the kid who punched Remy earlier keeps screaming, “Stop!” The shooter ignores him and slaps another magazine into his gun.

  He fires at the bar. Glass and liquor explode off the shelf. Remy ducks and must be moving behind the length of the bar because the shooter keeps popping off shots like he’s tracking a half-wounded deer.

  Teller grunts and pokes his head out. “If some of these fuckers would get out of the way, I could get off a shot.”

  Together, we crawl out, taking cover by some overturned chairs.

  “We gotta get the girls out of here,” Teller says. “Then take care of this fuck.”

  The last word has barely left his mouth when Heidi catches my eye at the end of the hallway.

  In slow-mo horror, I watch her tiptoe up behind the shooter.

  Torn between wanting to scream at her to stop and not wanting to alert the shooter that she’s there, I pull my gun and stand.

  By being this bold, I’m risking a bullet to the chest or head, but I don’t care as long as he’s distracted from looking anywhere near Heidi’s direction.

  The shooter notices me.

  His gun hand starts a slow swing my way.

  Without fear or hesitation, Heidi lifts her hand high in the air. My eyes zero in on the green and purple handle of the small hammer I gave her as a joke.

  But this is no joke.

  My heart thunders.

  She swings the hammer down. Hard and fast.

  Steel cracks against skull—louder than you’d expect with all the commotion.

  The shooter crumples to the floor.

  “That’s my girl!” I explode out of my spot, yanking Teller along with me.

  The shooter’s out. Blood pools around his head, soaking into the planks of the dirty, old, wood floor.

  Fuck, maybe she killed him.

  Remy and Griff snatch the guy off the floor, kick him a few times and drag him behind the bar. I assume to tie him up and question him later. If he lives.

  Heidi stares at me in wide-eyed shock. The hammer falls from her hand, hitting the floor with a thud when I reach her. I yank her into my arms, pressing her against me, shielding her from any more mayhem with my body.

  “Why did you do that?” I mumble against her hair. My hands are everywhere checking to make sure she’s not hurt. Even though the danger’s over, my heart won’t stop pounding.

  Her arms circle my neck, clinging to me, and I pick her up. “I was so scared,” she whispers against my ear. “I got your text. But the shots kept coming. I was so scared one of you were hit.” She pulls away and turns, seeking her brother. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, little sister,” Teller answers, patting her back. “That’s some arm you have there.”

  He appears calm. But I can tell from the way he keeps staring at Heidi, he’s as shaken as I am about the crazy stunt she pulled. Shockingly, he keeps his mouth shut. He doesn’t scold her or punch me for putting her in danger either.

  Heidi clings to me for a second longer then reaches for Teller. “Are you okay?” she asks again.

  “I’m fine.” He forces a smile. “I’ve got the most badass little sister around.”

  She lets out some nervous laughter and lets him pick her up in a quick hug.

  Charlotte races over and tackles both of them. “Your sister is insane.”

  Teller grabs her and whispers something against her ear. “I told her not to,” Charlotte protests.

  I wrap Heidi up in my arms again. “You shouldn’t have done that.” Yeah, I’m proud of my girl, but I can’t stop thinking about all the ways her plan could’ve gone horribly wrong.

  “I couldn’t let him keep shooting at you.” She waves her hand at her brother. “He’s taken enough bullets this year.”

  “Amen to that,” Teller mutters.

  I tip my head at him in an don’t-encourage-her way.

  Remy limps over a lot less cocky then he was earlier. “Fuck, I’m sorry, man. Never saw that coming.”

  “You all right?” I ask.

  He brushes his hands through his hair and glass tinkles to the floor. “Some scratches. I’ll live.”

  The door swings open, and everyone tenses up.

  Wrath, Z, and Jake storm in with the wind.

  “What the fuck happened?” Wrath bellows.

  I don’t think the yelling dad approach is going to work with Remy or Griff, so I step in between them and Wrath. “Not sure yet. It just ended.”

  “Murphy’s girl hammered him.” Griff laughs and shakes his head. “Never seen anything like it.”

  Wrath settles his frosty glare on me. “She did what?” The why didn’t you protect your girl better tone in his voice is clear.

  Heidi leans over and picks up her hammer, casually tucking it into her pocket. “Murphy gave it to me for protection. So I used it, Uncle Wrath.” She stares down at the bit of blood-splatter on her hand. “Guess I’ll have to bleach it or burn it now.”

  Wrath shakes his head and glares at me.

  “Good job, Heidi-girl,” Z congratulates her.

  “One of my students,” Jake announces.

  “Whatever.” I shove him backwards. “My girl was a badass long before she took your one class.”

  Z slips behind the bar and toes the unconscious shooter. “Who is he?”

  “Anyone call the cops?” Wrath asks.

  “No one here woulda called,” Remy assures him. He glances around the mostly empty bar. “They know better.”

  “Anyone else hurt?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Hudson raises his hand. His face screws into a mask of agony.

  “Oh my God, what did you do?” Charlotte asks, rushing over to help him out.

  “Aged me about ten years,” Whisper says, coming over to shake Wrath’s hand.

  “How you been, brother?” Wrath asks far more cordially than I would expect.

  “They can fill you in. I’ve had enough excitement for the night.” He slaps my shoulder, then Teller’s. He jerks his head toward Hudson. “Help me get him up?”

  While they tend to Hudson, Teller and I join Remy behind the bar. “He still breathing?”

  “For now,” Remy answers.

  All of us stare down at the shooter.

  “You recognize him?” Teller asks.

  “Maybe.” Remy’s answer is a little more evasive than I care for, considering we just got shot at and my ol’ lady saved his ass.

  “Murphy.” Jake touches my shoulder. “You want me to take the girls home?”

  I glance over at them. Z’s got one arm around Heidi and one around Charlotte, keeping them close and calming them down with his usual wisecracks. While I appreciate his efforts, they really should get out of here in case the cops show up. I won’t let anyone question Heidi, and Charlotte doesn’t need the hassle.

  “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Thanks,” Teller says.

  “I’ll keep her name out of anything that comes up,” Remy promises me.

  “Wouldn’t want anyone to know a little girl saved your ass, right, bro?” Jake sneers.

  Remy huffs out a pained laugh and leans against the bar. “Hell no. Heidi drinks and eats for free here for life. She’s my damn hero.” He gestures toward the end of the bar. “I don’t know if I would’ve made it to the shotgun in time.”

  I’m proud of Heidi. No doubt. Still can’t help feeling like I put her in danger for no reason. And now I’m supposed to send her home, so I can deal with the aftermath? It doesn’t feel like something a good husband does.

  Teller senses my inner conflict and pats my shoulder. “Come on, let’s send the girls home, so we can sort through this mess.” In a lower voice, he adds, “VP.”

  Yup, this is exactly what a Vice P
resident has to do.

  Twenty-Eight

  Heidi

  I’ve seen lots of patients in shock. Still, I have a hard time recognizing it in myself.

  Did I really rush a guy shooting a gun with nothing more than a stubby little hammer?

  Am I out of my mind? I’m a mother for fuck’s sake.

  I’m also an old lady and a sister. Knowing Blake and Marcel were in danger, shut down my logic and left me acting on pure instinct to protect them.

  The moment when I stepped into the long, dark hallway and saw the shooter was focused on the part of the bar I couldn’t see replays over and over in my head.

  Had Marcel been hit? Had Blake?

  Even now that I know they’re safe, I can’t stop thinking about it.

  Jake drops us off at Teller and Charlotte’s house. “Do you need me to stay?” His voice breaks me out of the horrifying loop in my head.

  “My brother’s here,” Charlotte answers. “We’ll be okay.”

  He waits until we’re inside before driving away.

  “Are you all right, Heidi?”

  “I think so.” I drop down onto her couch and close my eyes. My hammer hand throbs. “I may have sprained my hand or something. It hurts like hell.”

  “Let me get you ice.”

  A few seconds later, something cool settles against my skin.

  “That was one way to end date night.” Charlotte flops down next to me. “I’ve seen some crazy stuff, Heidi, but you were one badass ol’ lady tonight.”

  I hum to acknowledge her compliment, but I’m not feeling very badass at the moment. “This has been the worst day.”

  “Besides the shooting?”

  “It’s been a relentless storm of shit and puke since I woke up.”

  I don’t have a chance to elaborate because someone knocks on the front door. The alarm beeps, and the door creaks. “It’s me, Charlotte,” Carter says. “Don’t shoot.”

  “Knock it off.”

  “Hey, Carter,” I call out.

  “Why are you back so early? And by yourselves?”