Chapter 23
My hair stands on end when we weave our way through the long corridor, coming to a halt near the back door we entered through.
"Whattya say, Daddy Jer? We in the clear?" I murmur, looking through the small window. The parking lot is the only thing that greets my eyes—nothing but shadows and trees blowing in the wind.
"I'm not exactly sure anymore," he sighs, with an odd sense of vulnerability. "But I think we should be in the clear to get to the car. There doesn't appear to be anyone out there."
"If there is, I'll gut them with my bare hands." I grin.
Anticipation runs through me at the thought of blood dripping down my flesh. Hell, maybe I can hold a beating heart in my palm. That's the dream, am I right? Even though the fight helped satisfy my bloodlust, it fades with every second I spend back in my hometown. An ache to track down my Kitten and murder everyone around her has me by the damn balls, riding me hard. She should be doing that, thank you very much. My girl needs my cock ASAP. So I can continue the process of knocking her up.
"Are you seriously getting a boner right now?" Jericho murmurs, slowly opening the back door. He stops momentarily, eyeing the shadows for the people possibly after our heads.
"Just thinking about my Kitten," I pout, looking in the opposite direction and taking it all in. "You think she's knocked up by now?"
I feel Jericho's stare burning through me. "Possibly," he grunts, standing tall as we walk to our stolen car.
"Well, if she's not. Once we get her back, I'm tying her to our bed and fucking her until she's knocked up. You can join if you want," I say, grinning when he glares at me.
"We're in danger even being here, and all you can think with is your dick?" He raises a haughty brow at me, thinking he's so much better.
I know for a fact he's thinking about her sprawled out naked on the bed, begging for his cock.
"Well, it's better than thinking about the family coming after us and hoping to end our lives. So, my cock wins." I shrug when we get into the car, each of us taking a calming breath. "So, you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"It depends. If you're still thinking with your cock, then no. But if you're thinking that Rave will become our new headquarters while it's shut down, then yes." He taps his fingers on the steering wheel several times before starting the car. "I know my father and his plans well, but if my mother is in charge or pulling strings, I don't know what anyone is capable of."
"We're on our own," I hum with displeasure. It'd be nice to have the fam in our back pockets, but I have an awful feeling brewing that the family we've come to know and barely tolerate will be after our heads. "You're the heir, and I'm the spare..." I grin when he huffs at my words. "They'll be awfully trigger-happy in our company."
"If my father has fallen, I'm the next in line of the throne. If they can eliminate me, then... Someone else is the new king." He shakes his head when he pulls onto the road, and we begin our journey across town toward Rave.
"And who would it be?" I hum, tapping my chin.
"It could be anyone that stood behind my father and had an ounce of power. The bosses who studied beneath him watched his rule. Anyone could do it."
"Civil war is a foot in the house of Viotto," I chuckle, rubbing my hands together. "And I'm going to be the new general in charge."
Jericho side-eyes me again as he takes back streets through Briar Cove, attempting to conceal our presence here. "Then we need to build up an army," he says, pulling into the darkened parking lot across the street from Rave.
"An army, you say? I like the sound of that. So, what's the plan? Anything specific?"
Jericho cracks his knuckles, staring out the windshield. "First things first, we get our girl and best friend back from Shadow before he can do anything drastic to them. From what Elias said, they seem to be okay. For now."
"Oh, fun. So, we're going to a wedding?" I ask, throwing the passenger side door open without a care in the world. War is on the way. Blood is about to be spilled. And my dick is harder than it's been in weeks at the prospect of it all. I wonder if my Kitten would let me fuck her in a pool of blood from our enemies? I'll add that to my bucket list right after fucking her ass. Which, sadly, I never got to do. What a shame. But I can make it up to her. All I need are some new buttplugs, lube, and her. Then we’re all set.
"Indeed." Jericho nods and comes beside me as we stare at the building we've called our home base for years. Boards hang over every window and door, giving it an abandoned feel, despite it being in operation before our lives got fucked. "I've got a few ideas and calls to make. But I know we won't be able to do this alone. We need reinforcements." Then, he takes off, walking across the parking lot toward the backside of Rave.
“Wait, whoa! Reinforcements? Are you thinking about taking Elias up on his offer?" I hiss when he stops at the back door, covered by a large piece of wood. A sign stating the property was repossessed hangs from the wood, forbidding anyone from stepping inside. Except for us, of course. There’s no way this building was taken back. His fingers brush against the hard surface as his brows furrow with hesitation.
"At this point, Arrow. All I want is my fucking home back. My girl. My best fucking friend. You. And nothing else. I'd give up my goddamn empire to make sure that all happened." His jaw works back and forth as he peels the piece of plywood off one edge of the door.
"You'd give it all up, Daddy Jer? Everything for..."
"Yes," he grits out, cutting me off. "If I don't have my family, then I have nothing. I'd be the king of an empty town with a cold heart and nothing more. I'm not my fucking father. He wanted nothing more than power. He sacrificed my childhood, possibly my mother, and so much more to bring us this." He shakes his head with a huff. "I won't lose the only people who mean something to me."
My grin grows when he cracks open the back door and squeezes through the wood to enter. It's like music to my ears when we enter the darkened club that usually never sleeps. It's always lit up and full of life and dancing fuckers eager to spend their money on our booze. Now, it's just the two of us maneuvering through the table setup and liquor bottles on display. Jericho grabs his phone and lights up the space with his flashlight. As we pass one bar, he grabs a top-shelf bottle of scotch before making his way up the stairs with me on his heels.
"Fucking Aiden," he grunts, pushing through the door. Probably recounting the betrayal that we didn't see coming.
"Have we heard from Brandon?" I hum, turning on a small lamp in our VIP area, illuminating our sitting area. How convenient that we still have power.
"I'm almost afraid to reach out," Jericho says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Everything I've ever fucking known has been covered in shit." With that statement, he opens the bottle of sipping scotch and takes several long pulls, not even wincing when he cradles the bottle between his legs with a groan.
In all the time I've known Jericho, he's never been one to break down. He's always got an idea. A plan. Anything to get us out of whatever hole we've dug ourselves into. Now, though? He seems to be holding on by a damn string. I get it, bro. I do. Our girl. Our silent giant. Our everything is lost in the wind somewhere we can't get to. No matter how hard we try. We're trapped. Stuck. Fucking sitting ducks. If anyone finds us.
Well, not sitting ducks. It's more like they'll be the sitting ducks if anyone comes here to find us or attempts to attack us. I have several tricks up my sleeves, like weapons. Knock out drugs. Anything I could conjure up, it's at the tip of my fingers.
"Give him a jingle, Jer," I say with a grin, marching over to a spot on the wall and tapping it twice. "If Brandon even thinks about fucking us over, I'll put a bullet in his head." I grin when I grab a handgun from my gun case hidden in the wall and check the bullets.
I wouldn't hesitate for a moment. Anyone who fucks with my family will meet the end of my gun. Or fists. Or a torture chamber. Oh, I like that idea better. Maybe I could drag Brandon down to the basement and show him a thing or two. Like my saw collection. Oh! Even better—my knife collection. I bet he'd get a big kick out of my big stabber, especially when it goes through flesh and hearts. I look down at my dick, bouncing at the possibilities. Calm down, Big A. It's not happening yet. Yet—being the keyword. Do I want Brandon to be a backstabber? Not really. Do I want to torture some fellas and swim in their blood? Yes, yes, I do.
My eyes catch on Jer after peeling my gaze from my dick, which instantly deflates at the sight of his distress. He leans back, eyes squeezed shut. I see the wheels turning in his brain as he counts to ten silently in his mind. Good old Sheppy Boy, teaching our uptight friend how to chill the fuck out. If he didn't, he'd probably develop some ulcers in his stomach and puke up blood.
I'm a blood guy and all that, but seeing my bestie down and out makes feelings stir inside me. Weird feelings. Like butterflies in my stomach and concern in the back of my mind. I'm not an unfeeling psycho like some would describe me. I have them. Well, somewhere inside me. Probably hiding. But this is how God made me—my dad's words, not mine. He loved to tell me that as a kid.
"This is just how God made you, Arrow." He smiles down at me, scrubbing my hands with warm water and dish soap. "But playing with dead animals is gross."
"I just wanted to see their guts," I say with a grin, earning a chuckle from him.
"Then we'll find safe ways for that, okay?"
I was four when that conversation happened. I remember it like yesterday. My dad may have given me up because he could no longer control my urges, but I know he loves me. He also worries a lot, like now. I know he's pacing his office, trying to figure out how to help us more.
Jer gets up from his spot on the couch, meandering over to the large window that looks over our club with his hands clasped behind his back. It's his thinking pose. Or overthinking pose. Obviously, something brilliant is brewing in his devious mind. Like always. He's our leader for a reason. He makes all the decisions. Well, Shepp helps to even it out. I'm just the muscle, stabbing people and shit, so no one gets in our way.
And I'm happy to do it.
"What's up, Daddy Jer? Got something cooking?" I ask, shoving the gun into my waistband. Ah, nothing beats the cool metal of the firearm touching your flesh.
"Possibly," he mutters.
I move closer until I stand beside him, looking down at the darkened club. It's odd seeing it so empty. It's usually full of life, laughter, sex, and booze. Damn, I should make that into a bathroom sign. Fuck live, laugh, love. We got booze, sex, and dancing.
"Share with the class," I quip, grinning.
"There are a lot of moving pieces in our lives right now. Shadow stole from us. My father is with my mother now, doing God knows what. Someone is stealing his property right under his nose. We need to see whose name is going on those deeds and why my father is so oblivious." He shakes his head.
"It's strange. Daddy Gabe was always so damn paranoid. Why is he letting his guard down now?" I rub my chin.
"The only factor that has changed in my father's life is my mother's presence." His brows furrow. "Is he so blinded by his love and fascination for her that he's allowing her to make these changes?" He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We have a wedding to attend, as well, amid all this bullshit."
"But she'll be there, right? With Sheppy Boy?" I ask with hope, tilting my head when he nods.
"According to Elias, he invited them and Shadow."
"You think we could get the jump on that flighty bastard and take him down?" I grin, rubbing my hands together at the prospect.
"I don't think that's our call to make," Jer says, shaking his head. "Imagine taking that kill away from the people it belongs to."
"Then we vow. Shadow is Shepp's. Maybe Journey’s, too." I agree with a nod. "But I can totally assist. Need me to knock him out? Drag him out? Tie him to a chair? I am your guy. It gives me no greater pleasure than taking out the trash."
"Our problem is we've amassed more trash than we know what to do with," Jericho grumbles with indecision.
"Then we focus on the worst of the two. I say we start with Shadow, kidnap him, lock him in our basement, and then feed him to Max and Nova when the time is right. Sprinkle a little torture in there, where Sheppy lays out all his revenge. Then, BAM! Grab Gabe, too. It's easy peasy," I hum as the images of their screams, blood, and guts run through my mind. Chills race through me at the thought of it all happening.
"And if we focus on one and not the other, then how do we play that? Shadow is bad, but my father is evil..."
"Evil to a crumbling city," I say, pursing my lips. "We need insight. We need a delicious little spy to give us all the information on him and Shadow..." I tap my chin again and then grin. "We need to call Brandon if he's still alive. He was there that night. We'll meet in public, with lots of weapons strapped to us. Oh! Maybe we can do some recon. You know how I love recon! I want to find him and follow him. Can I drug him? Can I..." I frown when Jericho puts his hand over my mouth, silencing my rambling thoughts.
See what happens when murder is on the mind?
"Yes, to all of it." He raises a brow with a silent demand, begging me to shut up before he takes his hand away.
"Yes, to it all? So, you want me to get a disguise and follow him around? Drug him a little? Say less."
"You're way too giddy at the prospect of following someone. We need to locate him first and follow him around to see if he's on anyone's payroll. If not, we bring him to the basement to see what he knows." I open my mouth to ask about my drugs, but Jericho nods with a sigh. "And yes, you can drug him."
"Oh, goody! I have so many vials stashed around here," I whoop, tossing a fist in the air.
It's the first positive note since we left Olivia's house, saw my father, and came here. Everything else has been utter shit. It’s time we get on the up and up. We need a win. Something to celebrate while we wait for our long-lost lover to return to us with our bestie in tow.
"How many do you keep handy?" I feel his eyes on me when I go to the couch and dig into the cushions. My tongue pokes out as I feel around in the secret compartment and pull out three vials full of my favorite drug.
"Enough," I say with a shrug, putting the three things in my pocket and then turning to him. "So, shall we go hunting?"
"Arrow, it's late," he grumbles. “We need rest if we're going to be at our best." He shakes his head again, grabs the discarded bottle of booze from the end table, and then sits down again, guzzling a few more drinks.
Oh, goody. If he keeps that up, he’ll be out like a light in ten seconds. Even though the bastard barely sleeps. I know for a fact he hasn’t slowed down for days now. Between his injuries and worry, he should pass out lickity split.
"Who can sleep at a time like this?" I pout, throwing myself into the chair across from him. "I'm too amped up."
I want to track down Brandon sooner rather than later and drag the answers from him. By any means possible, of course. He was there the night of the ball, manning the bar as our spy. We needed someone there as backup. Well, that didn't go as planned. Apparently, he wasn't aware of that little invasion of the servers. I still can't wrap my mind around the fact they made it past extensive security. Every Viotto in a hundred-mile radius was in attendance with weapons. Oh, and incompetence. Watching them run through the ballroom once shots started ringing was an embarrassment to everyone, especially Gabe. Actually, now that I think about it, I didn't see that rat anywhere after the fighting started, not even when I pulled out my rocket launcher and set Viotto Tower on fire. Oops. My bad. I think it might be my fault it half-way collapsed.
Oh, well. Fuck the tower. Fuck Gabe. And everything in between. My rocket launcher was definitely necessary, anyway. It'll be a cold day in hell before I give my baby up.
I grin when soft snores spill from Jericho. Aw, isn't he adorable when he finally sleeps? I swear, I haven't witnessed him close his eyes lately. He's been through a lot. Poor guy. I'll take this time to be a good Arrow and not do anything stupid. Nope. Not me. I definitely won't steal the keys from his pocket, take our stolen car across town, and find Brandon at his apartment.
Because the thing about me is I always keep track of our employees. Did I miss the signs with Aiden? Yes. But he was always here. He never spoke to Gabe on his phone—which I totally have access to—and always seemed to be working for us. I think he was. Until Gabe got in his ear when we were out of the picture, maybe he paid him more.
No matter.
Once I'm successfully out of Rave with weapons tucked into my jeans, I get into the car and start driving.
Will Jer wake up angry? Oh, yes.
Do I care?
Not a chance in hell.