Circling around back, I barely get the vehicle in park before I jump from it, hitting the ground running. I hope she’s either hidden well enough to avoid discovery or gotten away. I’d rather she be back on the run than dead. Her death would be on all of our hands because we failed to keep her safe. If she’s alive, Voodoo will be having a long discussion with my fist. You don’t fucking leave one of us behind. I don’t care if she may be traitor, she’s our responsibility. I round the corner of the door, gun drawn, when Dani runs into me. Her shirt and arms are covered in blood, but it doesn’t seem to be hers. Thank fuck, she’s alive.
“Are you okay, Dani?” I ask. “Did he hurt you?” She assures me she’s fine. I hear a groan coming from the back door and shoving her aside, I rush inside. I’m shocked when I lay my eyes on the scene in front of me. A Hispanic man lies on the ground bleeding profusely from his face. He writhes and moans in pain. Jesus, Dani put up a fight and took the bastard down herself. I knew she was a hellcat but fuck, he’s three times her size. Kicking a tool box out of the way, I move closer to the man with my gun drawn.
“Who are you?” I ask as I pull him from the ground, stowing my gun in the waistband of my jeans. He’s no threat now that he likely can’t see from the coagulated blood and embedded glass in his face. He mutters in unintelligible Spanish. Dani must have broken his jaw with the bottle. He’s useless to us if he can’t talk. I pull my handgun back out and cock the hammer back, putting the barrel of the gun to his forehead. Just before I pull the trigger, my eyes catch the patch on his cut. He’s the fucking vice president of Twisted Tribe. Looks like it’s his lucky day, Raze will want him alive as a bargaining chip. Replacing the gun back into my jeans, I pull some wire ties from the open toolbox by the back door, securing his hands together.
Walking out the door, I roughly grab Dani and forcibly shove her into the SUV. She begs me for answers about what’s going on, but she’s not privileged enough for answers. The double T VP may have tried to kill her, but it still doesn’t clear her name. I won’t touch or answer her until I know for sure. Going back for the bastard, I haul his ass out of the salon, taking care to drag him through the broken glass and wreckage he caused, and into the backseat of the SUV, making sure the fucker lands on his injured face. I’m not about to be careful with the man who likely ordered the deaths of over twenty of our men in Chico. His club will pay for the blood they’ve spilled. Revenge will begin with him.
Pulling into the clubhouse, I park the SUV in the back lot and drag our prisoner into the shed where they strung up Jagger. His blood will replace Jagger’s on the floor, wiping the murder clean. Dani still begs for answers, but I remain silent. Voodoo lets her inside, and I sigh in relief knowing she’s now safe in the clubhouse amongst my brothers. She at least listened to me about giving Raze my message as he stalks out of the clubhouse toward me.
“Brought you a gift, Prez. The VP of Twisted Tribe attacked Dani but by the time I got there, she used his face as a bottle opener. Pretty sure his jaw is jacked, but figured you’d want him in our possession instead of dead on the salon’s back room floor.”
“Holy shit,” he exclaims. “Dani did this to his face?” Nodding my head yes, I kick our prisoner into the dirt. Raze takes one look at the man and trudges into the shed, returning with rope. Wrapping it around his bound wrists, he throws the other end over the ceiling brace and hauls him from the ground inside the shed until he’s in the air, his blood streaking the ground as he’s dragged. His body swings as Raze ties off the rope onto one of the support beams along the wall. He walks up to face the man who was responsible for executing Jagger and spits in his face before sucker punching him in the jaw.
“Your club killed my brothers. Your death will be the first of many. Your club will be blood stains on the ground by the time we’re done with you.” Raze continues to hit him in the face until he’s unrecognizable. It’s a surprise he’s still alive after taking such a beating. Wiping his bloodied knuckles with a rag, Raze steps out of the shed and closes the doors. His silence means only one thing. We’re going to war. A mental checklist clicks through my mind of the supplies we’ll need, and potential strike strategies flitter to life. My military training helps me when shit like this happens. As long as I’ve got planning to do, I can keep myself calm and level headed. I won’t walk into the upcoming shit storm unprepared. That’s how you get killed, and I am not about to lose another fucking brother to those bastards.
A hoard of Harleys pulls into our drive, shaking the ground under our feet like an earthquake. Our brothers are here. We’ll get them settled in and call Church after dinner.
“Let Ratchet come out and work him over. Just don’t let him kill the fucker before we hit tomorrow in case his information is fucking bogus. As soon as we’re clear, Ratchet can end him. The kill is his,” Raze orders as we walk back up to the clubhouse.
He stops and looks back at the shed before we enter the clubhouse.
“It’s time for you to do your thing, Hero. Their bloodlines end tomorrow.”
Hours after I was locked down in my room like an unruly child by Raze and Hero, I am still fuming from their demands. They seem to think that I am innocent when it comes to the drunken ways of men, or they don’t want to broadcast to the other chapters that they have a potential spy in their midst. I can assuredly handle myself, but those two bastards seem to think otherwise. I’ve spent so much time in this damned room in the last month that being in here longer than I need to be able to sleep and clean-up is making me go stir crazy. I tried to read at first but I couldn’t concentrate on the words with the music pounding in from the common area. The man that attacked me keeps popping into my head and makes me wonder if Hero has killed him yet. They really need to add some new songs to the jukebox after I’ve been listening to AC/DC’s entire collection for the past three hours. There’s only so many times you can hear “Thunderstruck” before you start considering shoving a pencil into your ears. You’d think with war looming over their heads they’d be quietly planning and contemplating the coming operation instead of getting blitzed and fucking the club whores.
I start to hear screaming and moaning coming from the room next to me. One of the brothers must be getting lucky with one of the club mamas. She screams, “Oh baby, fuck me with your huge dick,” before crying out in a painfully-faked orgasm. I’m just glad the hard slapping of their flesh and the bed pounding against my wall only lasted five minutes. Jesus, Raze needs to invest in thicker walls. I could feel her sarcasm all the way in my room. Why these women spread their legs and mouths openly when they drop their pants is beyond me. I hear footsteps walking out of the room next to me. Unable to stow my curiosity, I fall to the floor and watch the boots crossing in front of my door. Damn, I can’t see who the one shot wonder was. Just as I start to stand from the floor, a pair of sparkly stiletto heels stops in front of my door. One of the club mama’s must be lost. This room does not contain the dick they are looking for.
“Dani?” calls a soft feminine voice.
“Yes,” I return.
“It’s Bubbles. Can I come in?”