Blood Revealed (Brimstone Lords MC Book 6)

by Sarah Zolton Arthur

  “Got you,” Hero says as he turns to walk out of the room. I get he’s still pissed. Never seen the man so crazy about a woman until Brinley came along. It’s good. The kid needed to be reined in. And Brinley, she’ll never find a more loyal man to take care of her.

  “Okay,” Duke continues. “Get Dutchy on patrol with you, Carver. Then find Boetcher—got somethin’ in mind for him. We’re sendin’ him out to shadow you, Sneak, see how he does through this and we’ll probably patch him in soon.”

  “We haven’t moved him to gate yet,” Sneak says, exactly what I was thinking.

  “Kept him inside on purpose. I wanted him hearin’ shit. Wanted him seein’, so he knows what he’s gettin’ himself into. Boy’s got good instincts so far. He’s like you. Can see without bein’ seen. Now, Boss.” Duke looks at his VP. “Go get that beer with Hero because I need Blood, Sneak, and Hero goin’ out on a mission and they’re leaving within the hour. Don’t need bad blood hangin’ over your heads.”

  I get what he’s saying, but I hate why he has to say it. Where he’s sending us isn’t going to be pleasant.

  “I’m out,” I tell Duke. “Going to Hannah if you need me.”

  My back to the brothers, I raise my hand to wave two fingers as my goodbye. Hannah’s just on her way out of the kitchen when I reach the common behind the bar.

  “Just the person I’m looking for,” I say, smiling because like a fool, I always smile around Hannah. She has that power over me. She has her hair in a messy knot on top of her head, an apron with the straps wrapped twice around her tiny waist and a dusting of flour on her cheek. The woman has no right to look so sexy wearing flour. Without thinking I reach over, holding her hand in my hand to swipe the white powder away slowly with my thumb. My gaze drops to her plump lip pulled between her teeth she’s biting down on. Fuck me.

  “What’s up?” she whispers, as affected as me.

  “Leaving within the hour. Gonna be gone a while. We need to talk.”

  “Oh-kay…” She pivots her whole body to look at me. I need her to see this is a serious kind of talk. “Is everything all right?” she asks.

  I drop my hand from her cheek to hold it out to her. “Come on. We’ll talk in my room.”

  She reeks of fear but takes my hand. We walk through the back hallway to my room. I push the door open waiting for her to enter first, then shut it behind me.

  Hannah’s not even to the bed when she turns on me. “Blood, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Her arms she folds protectively around her chest.

  “Nothing to be scared of, baby.”

  “Baby?” She drops her hands to her hips. “Now you really have some explaining to do. You never call me baby anymore. We set those ground rules years ago.”

  I step closer, getting in her space. “Yeah, and that’s what we’re talking about. Shit’s going down, Han. Bad shit. Shit you need to know, but I can’t tell you because you don’t have the right to know it.”

  “Fuck,” she mumbles under her breath as she stumbles back a few more steps to plop down on the edge of my bed. She pushes her bangs back from her face and exhales. “Okay, sock it to me.”

  “Right. I’m done dancing around with you.”

  Her head turns sharply toward me. “Done?” Then it’s as if she catches herself and slides that mask on that I’ve become so familiar with over the years whenever I’ve brought up she and I making things official. “So… you’ve met someone,” she says quietly. “Thank you for the heads-up.”

  “No, you blasted woman. I haven’t met someone else. I’m done dancing around this thing. I’m in love with you,” I say. Hannah gasps. “And you’re in love with me.” That doesn’t get a gasp, but exactly the opposite. She sucks in a sharp breath. “What? You haven’t exactly hidden it all these years. You just won’t let me have you the way I want you. That’s what’s stopping today. Got me?”

  “Blood,” she says in her soft, ‘you’re being irrational’ voice.

  “Don’t Blood me. Not this time, not today. I’m leaving and the shit I’m heading into is club shit, but it’s also your shit and I need you to know that I don’t mind risking my life, baby, because you’re worth it. But I’m done living in motherfucking limbo. I’m claiming you, Han. Get used to it however you need to do that, but get it done. You’re my old lady. Period.”

  “And what? I don’t get a say in this?”

  “You’ve had your say for seven years. You’ve exhausted your say. I get you had your reasons, the shit you were running from, but those reasons no longer factor.”

  She shifts to slide farther away from me on the bed. “What do you mean they no longer factor? Watch out Blood, your inner Riot is showing.”

  That’s a sucker punch to the gut. I’m nothing like the assholes she grew up around. “That’s bullshit and you know it. I got seven years of fucking only you, seven years of being your shoulder to cry on, seven years of celebrating the good times that proves you wrong.”

  She sighs, sounding completely defeated, looking down at her lap when she says, “I—don’t know what to say.”

  “Nothing to say, baby. But you can kiss me.”

  “I’m not sure I want to kiss you right now.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll kiss you.” I take the few steps over to the bed and bend down, placing one hand to the side of her face while gathering her with my other arm. I bend in, pressing my lips to hers. It takes two-point-five seconds before Hannah ignites, taking over. I knew she would. This kiss is the kiss. The one that starts the rest of our lives.

  As it’s slows the press of my lips shows exactly what I feel about her, but she shows it back. I lift my hand to pull the tie from her hair watching her long, soft locks spill down around her shoulders and sift my fingers through to cup her head. I lower her to the bed and climb on top, deepening the kiss, using my free hand to untie the apron, pulling it from her body and tossing it to the floor before moving my hand under her shirt to stroke the skin around her navel. She likes it when I do that. It’s a sensitive spot for her and she shows me how much she likes it when she groans into my mouth.

  Hannah opens her legs, allowing my hips to fall between them. It’s starting to get good. She burrows her hands under my shirt, running her fingers up the bare skin of my back. We’re both struggling to take in air through our noses, not willing to come up from this fucking amazing kiss, and then there’s a pounding on my door.

  “Fuck,” I grind out. Hannah snickers, but it’s one of those laugh-or-she’ll-end-up-crying-type of snickers. The ‘this shit ain’t funny’ kind. We press our foreheads together.

  “We on the same page now, baby?” I ask.

  “It’s not safe, Blood. You know—”

  “What I know is if I’m being dragged into this anyway, I’m gonna have something worthwhile to come home to. That’s you, Han.”

  “Knock that shit off,” Sneak yells through the door. “If I don’t get to fuck my wife before we leave, then you don’t get to fuck Hannah.” This time Hannah laughs for real. “Sorry, Han,” he finishes.

  “Yeah, yeah. Give me a fucking second,” I yell back as I take in my old lady, hair spread out like a halo around the pillow. Her gorgeous eyes searching mine. Finally, after all these years. “Sorry, baby. I gotta get going.” Then I kiss her one more time. Well, I mean it to only be one more time, but each time I pull away, Hannah raises her head to capture my lips again.

  “Let me pack you some food while you get your clothes together,” she says after the very last time.

  “Right,” I mutter. I know it’s the last time because it takes every ounce of strength I have to push up from that goddamn bed, but I make it happen.

  “Blood?” She stops me when I’m heading for the closet door.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I do love you. I’ve loved you since I met you.”

  Jesus, we finally get this breakthrough and I have to leave. My chest heaves as I fight the urge to say fuck it and push her back down on the b
ed. I rub my hand over my face and, not looking at her—because I can’t, not right now—I say, “Prepare yourself, Han. This thing is going hyperdrive once I get back. Get used to it.”

  I open the closet to pull out my pack. She slips out the door to go fix me food. I hear her greet Brin in the hallway. Their voices drift off. I lean against the wall to collect myself. Don’t need to be acting like a pussy in front of my brothers, but shit. I’ve been waiting for years for this to happen and I can’t even make love to her the way I want to.

  For the time being, I force thoughts of Hannah out of my head and get down to business. Too soon, Hero knocks on my door once, walking in before I tell him to.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Fuck no,” I say. He looks confused, as he would. I’m always ready to go whenever my prez or my brothers need me. “Finally got Hannah to admit she’s my old lady and now I want to fuck her brains out, man.”

  “Yeah, I hear ya,” he says. “Wasn’t enough time for Brin to give me her sendoff, either. But when we get home, Duke won’t send us out for a while. Take her somewhere and don’t leave until you have to carry her out.” He’s not wrong.

  We leave my room. Sneak and Boetcher are waiting for us. Boetcher looks a little green, but like Duke said, he’s got good instincts. I’m not worried. Brinley and Hannah walk out from the kitchen with bags of food. Brin hands one off to Sneak first and Hannah hands one off to Boetcher.

  “Since Trish is at work,” Brin says to Sneak.

  He smiles. “Thanks, sweetheart. I appreciate it.” Sneak reaches a hand up to pat Brinley’s cheek like an older brother because Sneak would never hit on Brin; his wife owns his balls in every way balls can be owned. Hero slides in next to her, slipping his arm around her waist nonetheless. They’re still new and he almost screwed that shit up beyond repair, so I get it. But still, that shit’s funny.

  Sneak and I chuckle, him under his breath, me outright.

  When Boetcher takes the bag from Hannah, he shoots a glance at me before thanking her. They don’t even know she’s officially mine yet, but they all know she’s been mine since she arrived here.

  “It’s okay,” she says to Boetcher. “Blood doesn’t mind. You don’t have an old lady to fix you food. It’s my jo—”

  “It used to be your job,” I remind her, cutting in. “Not anymore.”

  Sneak and Hero raise their eyebrows at me.

  “Sissy, is there something you need to tell me?” Brinley asks my woman.

  “I… Well…” She starts to hedge.

  Fuck no. “She’s mine,” I tell Brin, and Brinley breaks out a giant grin.

  “I mean, he told me that it was basically a done deal and then we kissed,” Hannah says to her sister.

  “Oh my god,” Brin replies. “My claiming was a bit different, but I hear that’s how it works.” She continues to laugh through that gorgeous smile of hers.

  “It’s how I got Trish,” Sneak pipes up. “Didn’t give her a choice. You women will come up with any excuse to fight it, so it’s best not to give you a chance to.”

  Hero and I laugh now too while Boetcher stands there holding his lunch with a look of awe on his face.

  “Don’t worry, grunt,” I tell him. “You’ll get your chance, especially if you’re wearing a Lords cut. Ladies love the Lords.”

  Hannah punches my shoulder, but she also pushes up on her toes to kiss me again. “Got a lunch here for you, too.”

  “Thanks, baby. Love you, woman.”

  “Be safe, okay? Come home to me.” Tears wet her lashes. Hannah rarely cries, which means right now, she’s scared. The woman’s not stupid and I know she’s heard things around the clubhouse.

  “I make it a point to do what my woman says,” I say back.

  When we break from our little bubble, Hero has Brinley shoved up against the bar with his tongue shoved practically down her throat. I grab a handful of his cut. “C’mon, lover boy.”

  He growls, pecking one more kiss to the tip of her nose. “Love you, bird,” he says, to her breathy chuckle. It’s definitely time to go.

  We head outside. It’s cold and there’s still snow on the ground, which means instead of bikes, we’re forced to take the old white van. The women stand outside waving us off. There’s a new guy at the gate, all the men call him “Little Britches” because the dude is short. He waves us off as we head down the mountain.

  Duke wants us heading west. We’re not exactly sure what we’re looking for, but I assume we’ll know when we see it. Proof of clubs making their way into Lords’ territory. We drive for several hours until we hit the border. Just over on the Illinois side, we find what we’re looking for. Fuck. Riot. Nasty motherfuckers. Crazy. That’s the last thing we need. The piece of shit who bought Brinley, tried to kill her, he was Riot. There have to be at least twenty of them. Too close for comfort.

  And what’s worse, they’ve taken over a former Horde clubhouse, like a swarm of wasps invading a beehive. Sneak pulls the van over. We conceal our location as best we can. Hero is already on the line with Duke reporting in.

  “He says we need to get closer, get a better look,” Hero says after he ends the call.

  Fucking great. The brothers and I slip out of the van. This is where Sneak and now Boetcher come in. Their job is to get close without being seen. There’s a reason Sneak is called Sneak. I sniff out the trails. That’s why they called me Bloodhound. Hero is like me; he sniffs out the trails.

  Boetcher takes in a slow breath before letting it out and nodding. He’s ready to prove his worth to the brotherhood. Sneak gives Boetcher a signal with his chin and the brothers disappear into the brush and ditches that line the road. Now we wait until we get word from any of them to move out.

  We stay on guard but keep hidden. Everything seems to be going well until that unmistakable sound of gunshots rings out, cutting through the stillness of the air.

  “Fuck,” I whisper-yell as I take off running in the direction the brothers went. Hero’s phone buzzes. All he hears is, “Sneak’s hit. He saved me.” The kid probably says more, but Hero shoves the phone back in his pocket. We reach a thick of trees missing leaves and duck behind them. There’s a Riot standing over a body lying on the ground. He’s saying shit I can’t make out because of the blood pulsating against my eardrums. I don’t see Boetcher.

  I look to Hero. He nods. We’re going in. I draw my gun and aim. The shot rings out, the Riot bastard shifts to find the source of the sound but the shift’s enough that the bullet meant for his chest hits his shoulder. The impact forces him back a step and he screams. I provide the cover while Hero goes in to grab Sneak. Boetcher crouches low, moving out of his hiding spot to help Hero. There’s blood all down the front of Sneak and he needs the both of them to help him out. The man can hardly walk.

  “Get him to the van,” I yell to Hero, getting close because more Riot have joined and we’re under fire. I keep shooting until I run out of ammo in my clip. We make it to the van. Boetcher has a thigh wound and Hero was hit in the shoulder. As I speed off, I pull my phone out first to call the president of the Missouri chapter and tell him our dilemma. He orders us to head toward their compound. They’ve got a doc who can help the brothers. I describe the wounds, especially Sneak, who’s in pretty bad shape. He assures me they’ll be ready for us. I head west and cross over the border into Missouri. The Riot weren’t far from the Lords. We’re met with an open gate and brothers to help unload the injured. They even have a stretcher, the kind they used in the army during Vietnam to carry Sneak. The other brothers can walk.

  I call Duke.

  “Talk to me,” he answers.

  “We’re screwed—need reinforcements. Sneak was hit. It’s ugly.”

  “Fuck,” he yells.

  “Hero and Boetcher too, but not near as bad. Sneak’s with Doc Hatchet. Man, get out here.”

  “I’m rallying the brothers now,” he answers.

  “Do I call Trish?” I ask.

  “It’s tha
t bad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then wait to see what happens. No sense worrying her now.”

  “Right.” I hang up and run toward the clubhouse. Inside, the Missouri brothers point me in the direction of Hatchet’s surgery. They’re not as clean as we are; therefore, a surgery is necessary. Hero and Boetcher are sitting on cots in a back room. Hatchet’s old lady Veronica is patching them up. He met her as an army nurse in Vietnam. She knows her shit and I feel like they’re in good hands. “Sneak?” I ask the buxom brunette. It’s probably a dye job, but I don’t care because she’s a total GILF.

  She gestures with her chin. “In surgery with Hatchet. Our son’s assisting. He’s good. Chip off the old block.”

  “Family business,” I try to tease. It’s hard to keep light when I’m worried about my brother in there. I blank out for a second.

  “Hey.” Veronica catches my attention. “Our boy is as good as his dad, if not better. He’s a bonafide surgeon. We got the diploma hanging on the wall in the office.”

  That makes me feel better. Hatchet is good. Learned his trade in Vietnam, but I’m not entirely sure he’s certified. All I can do is wait.

  “You good?” I ask Hero. He nods and winces while Veronica pulls the needle through his skin. I gotta go talk to Hammer, Missouri chapter president. He needs to prepare for the brothers’ arrival.

  Knowing I can’t do anything more here sucks. I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut, and say a quick prayer into the universe that Trish doesn’t end up a widow. Then, when I’ve got my shit together, I walk out to the common and turn in the direction of Hammer’s office. I knock once.

  “Enter,” he yells.

  I pop my head in. “Need to talk.”

  “Shut the door behind you,” he says. His first lieutenant Drac stands to his right. Hammer’s burly with a dark beard that hangs down to the center of his chest. He keeps his long, slicked-back hair in a ponytail. Hammer is definitely the kind of guy people cross the street to avoid passing, though, he’s good people. Drac, on the other hand, is more like Chaos. Tough but a pretty boy.