Outcast (Southern Rebels MC Book 2)

by Kristin Coley

  “I wanted to see if a fist to the face hurt as much as I remembered,” she commented, moving my hand away from her face. She eyed the split knuckles. “Looks like Gary got his own. Find out anything?”

  I shook my head. “No. They were smarter than we thought. They kept everything separate. Gary had no idea where the drugs were kept.”

  “Well, that must mean Rob knows,” she concluded, ignoring the way I referred to Gary in the past tense. “Find Rob and beat it out of him.”

  “We’ve got guys looking, but he’s nowhere to be found.”

  “I’d run as fast and far as I could if I were him,” she mentioned, walking to a room in the back. “Jean left a packet for the appointment.”

  “You don’t know?”

  She shook her head. “Jean just asked me to take the appointment. Said it was a loyal customer.” She eyed me. “I take it you didn’t make an appointment.”

  “Nope. Johnny sent me over.”

  She grabbed a manila envelope, opening it and dumping the contents on the tray. She moved the top sheet, revealing the design and I heard her suck in a sharp breath before the pounding beat of my heart drowned out everything else.

  She glanced up at me. “I take it you didn’t know?” I shook my head mutely, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. “We don’t have to do this.”

  I picked up the transfer paper, staring at the word I was supposed to have inked on my skin. It was a test to prove my loyalty and my vision blurred after a few minutes.

  “You can say I didn’t show up,” Tori offered. “Pretend you never saw it.”

  I licked my lips, lifting my gaze. “And what? Buy myself a few days?” I looked back down at the word. “He wants me to stay.”

  “Would that be so bad?” She asked quietly, her hands fluttering restlessly on the table. “There’s something to be said for family, for people that choose you.”

  I set the paper back down and she started to gather them up to stuff them back in the envelope. “Do it,” I said and her hands stilled. “Do the tattoo.” She gave me a wide-eyed stare and I smirked. “You do know how to tattoo?” Her expression changed to offended and she dumped the paper back out.

  “Risky words from someone about to find out,” she retorted, moving to gather the equipment. “But it has been over a year,” she mentioned as I was pulling my shirt off. “But I hear it’s like riding a bike.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “I was supposed to be counting Jason Mamoa’s abdominal muscles,” she informed me as I laid down on the table. She eyed my bare chest. “I guess you’ll do.”

  She wiped my stomach with alcohol, prepping my skin for the ink. Her touch was impersonal, her motions methodical, so I shouldn’t be reacting to it, I reminded myself, taking a few deep breaths to control the tightness in my jeans. “Relax. I do know what I’m doing and this isn’t really complicated,” she remarked, lifting the transfer and setting it on my stomach. The heavy dark print stood out against my skin and she touched it gently. “Are you absolutely sure?” Her gaze flickered to mine. “I mean, it’s kinda permanent.”

  I nodded, reading the word upside down. “Enforcer. It was my position before,” I paused, shaking my head. “Before I left. If I stay, it’ll be my position.”

  “See, the use of if in that sentence makes me leery about tattooing it on your skin,” she said, her warm hand resting on my stomach. “We won’t be able to do this in one session. I can do the outline, but you’ll have to come back for me to fill it in.”

  “You have my full permission to do it,” I promised her and she inhaled, nodding. When she’d turned to set up, I said, “I’m sorry.”

  Her hands stilled and she replied, “If I had a dollar for every time someone told me that, well, I’d have exactly one dollar.” She glanced over at me. “I didn’t expect you to apologize.”

  “I was wrong. I should have heard you out,” I replied, and nodded to the tattoo gun in her hand. “Plus, you’re about to use that on me. Figured I should make amends first.”

  “Would you have believed me if I’d told you?” She retorted, coming back.

  “No, probably not,” I answered candidly and she gave a half smile. “You gonna tell me now?” She shook her head. “Noah was the one who convinced me you were Victoria Malcom. You called him yesterday, not 911.”

  “I did.”

  “It’s not the first time.”

  “What are you asking?” She snapped gloves on. “Noah’s a good cop.” The way she said, she wasn’t talking about how good he was at his job, but more about his honesty.

  “He mentioned an accident,” I fished and she froze. “So did Jacob.”

  “You want to tell me about your daughter?” She asked and my expression grew cold. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. You have to earn the right to know my past.” She set tattoo needle down roughly. “I’d start by not giving me orders or threatening to bury me in my own grave.” Our eyes locked. “We clear?”

  “Crystal,” I bit out, not liking the reprimand, but knowing I deserved it. Neither of us were likely to open up and maybe that was for the best.

  She picked the gun back up, ready to start when a crash pierced the air. “What was that?” She skirted around the table, and I grabbed her right before she was about to go out the door.

  “Wait,” I hissed, pressing her to the wall as I cracked the door. “We don’t know what’s out there.” I met her eyes. “Or who.”

  She nodded, her hand reaching for the crowbar she’d set on the counter. “I’m ready,” she whispered and we eased out the room. The glass door was busted but it was the burning bottle on the ground that forced us into motion. “Go,” I shouted, shoving her down the hall, staying between her and the bomb about to go off. “Back door.”

  An explosion rocked me, heat flashing along my bare back, and I fought the flashback that threatened to pull me under. My hand on her back was the only thing keeping me grounded as I kept pushing her forward.

  Suddenly, she resisted, scrambling backwards and I glanced around her head in time to see another bottle on the ground, broken glass around it from where someone had thrown it through the back door. “Shit,” I mumbled and she jerked on my arm as she went through another door.

  “This way,” she cried, right as another explosion rocked the building. “We have to get out.” She went to a window, shoving on it and I added my weight, until it creaked up. “They’re trying to burn the building down.”

  “No shit,” I muttered, watching her scramble out the window. “Think Johnny will believe it wasn’t us trying to get out doing that tattoo?” A laugh escaped her.

  “Kind of elaborate,” she responded around heavy breaths as we jogged down the street. My leg didn’t like the exertion and I almost went down, but she propped me up as we heard sirens. A second later, there was a popping noise and we ducked. “They’re shooting,” she gasped and I threw myself over her as we hit the ground.

  “You, they’re shooting at you,” I told her, rolling us between two cars. “You were the only supposed to be here.”

  “Yeah, but Johnny sent you here,” she reminded me and I shook my head.

  “This isn’t Johnny.”

  “I didn’t say it was, but if he knew, who else did?”

  “Jacob,” I answered and she stared at me, her lips parted, unable to argue. “He knew I was coming.”

  “It’s his shop, his grandmother’s shop,” she insisted.

  “But Jean trusted you to ink me, not him,” I murmured, keeping my head down as more popping surrounded us. “We need to get out of here.”

  “We can separate,” she suggested. “See who they follow.”

  “You are not playing bait,” I growled, lifting my head slightly so I could case the best exit. “They could shoot both of us. Eliminate the witnesses.”

  “Witness to what?” She asked, wiggling out from underneath me. “Come on. I know how we’re getting out of here.” She stayed low, using a car for cover
as she led us to a narrow alley. “This way.”

  “Tori, we’re fish in a barrel,” I protested as we entered the space.

  “Then hurry,” she exclaimed, moving fast and I fought to keep up. “Right now they think they have us pinned down. We need to be gone before they realize differently.”

  We came out at the other end and she paused, letting me check the street. “Clear,” I said with a nod. “Come on.” I turned left but she resisted. “What are you doing?”

  “Going to the cemetery,” she answered, trying to go right, but I wasn’t letting go. “Where else am I going to go?” Vulnerability shown in her eyes, the sight so unexpected I had to check myself. “I won’t put Norah at risk.”

  “Come with me,” I replied, my fingers looped around her wrist. “You’ll be safe with us.” She shook her head and I tightened my grip. “Tori, the first place they’ll look for you is the cemetery.”

  “I can go stay with Jacob,” she suggested, tugging at my grip.

  “Hell no,” I growled, my gaze growing cold. “You will never stay with that bastard.” She blinked at the rage in my voice and I didn’t bother to explain. “The club is the safest place for you.”

  “You seem awfully sure its me they’re after,” she commented.

  “You are the one who’s been going around beating them,” I reminded her and she stopped trying to break my hold. “It wouldn’t be hard to figure out where you were. Either way, if they’re after me, it’s the same reason they’re after you. We both need to lay low.”

  “And you’re okay bringing danger straight to your brothers?” She questioned and it took me a minute, but finally I nodded.

  “There’s no one I trust more to protect,” I hesitated, “To keep you safe.”

  She nodded reluctantly, following this time when I went to the left, and we made it back to the Blazer without anyone spotting us. “Cord,” she whispered, staring at the vehicle with more fear than the guns we’d just escaped. “I can’t.”

  “Tori,” I turned her, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “You can. You have to. This is our way out.” She shook her head desperately, understanding her fear was irrational but unable to escape it. “Five minutes. That’s how long it’ll take. You can survive anything for five minutes.” I nodded until she nodded with me. “You gonna let me die here?”

  “No,” she gasped and I ripped open the car door.

  “Then get in.” I shoved her, sliding in right behind her. She froze, her hands gripping the seat, forcing me to crawl over her. The muscles in my leg seized and I had to drag my leg, ignoring the pain as I cranked the engine, squealing away from the burning building as fire trucks raced past.

  “Just a car. Point A to Point B,” Tori whispered over and over, as she rocked, trying to keep it together.

  “You’re doing great,” I told her, resisting the urge to take her hand. “Almost there.” I spun into the driveway right as Creed was running out the front door. He stopped when he saw me in the Blazer, instead running straight to me.

  “You alright?” He scanned me, jerking open the door. “Just got the call that there was an explosion at the tattoo shop. What were you doing there?”

  I shook my head, muttering, “Johnny.” Creed peered around me, spotting Tori.

  “She okay?”

  I glanced back over my shoulder, and saw she hadn’t moved an inch. “Not really a fan of cars,” I answered as Crew came from the back, Maisy trotting at his heels.

  “What’s going on?” He asked, coming up to us and Maisy jumped in the Blazer, going right up to Tori and nuzzling her. “Cemetery Girl?”

  Tori’s eyes closed as she lifted her hand, gently petting Maisy. “I might need your help,” she answered, her jaw so tight I barely understood her. I reached in, grabbed her legs and pulled, sliding her out of the Blazer as Maisy jumped to the ground. Tori crumpled, and I barely caught her, her weight tipping us until Crew braced himself against my back.

  “Let’s get inside,” I muttered, shooting Creed a look. “It’s safer.” He nodded in understanding, and motioned for Crew to help support Tori.

  “I’ll call Clutch. He was headed over there.” Creed pulled out his phone, watching as we shuffled toward the house, where Sloan waited behind a partially closed door.

  “I’m okay,” Tori grumbled, shrugging off Crew’s arm around her shoulders. “It’s just the stupid car.”

  “That happens to be a ’78 Chevy Blazer with original parts and paint,” I corrected her. “It’s not just some stupid car.”

  “Oh, so it’s an old death trap,” she retorted, struggling in my grip. “I can walk. I don’t need your help.”

  “Well, did it ever occur to you that I might need yours?” I asked, keeping my voice low enough I knew Crew wouldn’t overhear. She stopped trying to wiggle out from under my arm, instead leaning into me and taking more of my weight.

  “Bet you’re missing that walking stick now,” she murmured and I shook my head, my mouth twisting in an unwilling smile. “That’s what you get for throwing things away.”

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” I agreed. “I hope it doesn’t get destroyed in the fire.”

  “It won’t,” Tori answered confidently and I glanced at her curiously. She tipped her head back, smiling. “I left it propped on your daughter’s grave. Figured you’d find it tomorrow.”

  “You knew I’d find out I was wrong.”

  “A quick internet search would have proven you wrong, but yeah I figured you’d come crawling back.”

  “Crawling?” I shook my head. “In your dreams.”

  “Trust me, I have better things to dream about than you on your knees,” she retorted right as we came to the door and Sloan glanced between us.

  “I’m guessing you’re both okay?”

  Tori grunted, my weight finally catching up to her. “I don’t know, big boy here might need a walker.”

  “Fuck you,” I growled, pulling away from her and my leg gave out, sending me to the ground.

  “I kind of feel like you deserved that,” Tori remarked, crossing her arms as she stood over me. “Now, we have to get your heavy ass up.”

  Crew leaned down, grasping my forearms. “I got you, bro.” With a jerk, I was upright and cursing as I glared at her.

  “I didn’t need a walker when I was hauling your ass out of the building.” Her lips twitched and I realized she had been teasing me. I pressed my lips together as our eyes met, her amused stare meeting my irritated one.

  “Save it for the bedroom,” Creed said roughly, coming inside and slamming the door shut. “Someone just tried to kill you.” He glanced between us. “Both of you. They made a play against the club. That won’t go unanswered.”

  “I’m not club,” Tori told our backs as we headed for the kitchen. “And they’re not listening,” she muttered, getting a commiserating smile from Sloan.

  When we entered the kitchen, I pinned Tori with a hot glare as she came in behind us. “We’re listening. We just don’t need to reply to idiotic comments like that one.”

  “What I think he’s trying to say is, you’re club, Cemetery Girl.” Crew winked conspiratorially and I stepped between them, blocking him from her view.

  “Why don’t you quit trying to explain what I’m saying and let’s focus on what just happened. That was retaliation.”

  “For what?” Sloan questioned. “We haven’t done anything yet.”

  “We’re getting close. We found Gary. Plus, I’ve been a thorn in their sides for months,” Tori suggested and I met Creed’s eyes.

  “It’s Monty,” he said, his gaze flickering to Crew and I cursed, banging my fist on the counter.

  “He doesn’t know,” I stated and Creed shut his eyes.

  “I haven’t had time.”

  “Know what?” Crew glanced between us. “What? Tell me.”

  “Monty was released from prison today.”

  “What? How? When did you find out?” He roared, slamming his hands against my c
hest. “When?”

  “Today,” I shouted back. “When you were with Tori. Noah told us.”

  Crew shook his head, his expression betrayed. “Norah. She doesn’t know.”

  “I don’t think so,” Tori replied, resting her hand on Crew’s shoulder as he dropped his hands from my chest. “I was with her before I went to the tattoo shop to meet Cord. She was fine.”

  “This is my fault,” Crew muttered and Creed looked at him.

  “This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault, Crew. Deacon’s death was not your fault.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? When you found out.” Crew questioned, his voice hurt. “I had a right to know.”

  “And you know. We weren’t keeping it from you, Crew,” I replied, and caught the guilty expression Creed tried to hide. “Well, I wasn’t trying to keep it from you.”

  Crew glanced at Creed, searching for an explanation. “I should have told you when we got home,” Creed admitted. “I was afraid you’d go after Monty. That I wouldn’t be able to stop you from seeking revenge for Deacon.” His gaze settled on me. “I wanted Cord here when we told you,” he lifted his shoulder, “You listen to him.”

  “I listen to you,” Crew stressed. “You need to trust me.” He lowered his head, turning away from Creed.

  Creed grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. “I…,” he bit his lip, nodding. “I do trust you, Crew. This is on me.” He chuckled wearily. “You’re not a teenager anymore. And I need to stop treating you like one. You’re a member of the club. You’ve been through some shit and I need to respect that.”

  Crew nodded, his eyes red as he spoke. “Don’t give me too much credit. I want revenge. Now more than ever.” His gaze flickered to me and Tori. “Monty came after my family. He’ll pay for that.”

  “He will,” I promised, avoiding Tori’s curious glance as I said, “No one comes after the ones we love without repercussions.”

  “It’s late,” Sloan mentioned. “Maybe we should get some sleep. Regroup in the morning.”

  “Jailbait’s right. We need to come up with a plan to take down Monty,” Creed cautioned.

  “Destroying his drug stash would be a good place to start,” Tori reminded everyone. “It’d be a huge blow to the Vipers and we know exactly who we need to talk to.”