Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Eazy
The ringing of my phone is an unwelcome intrusion from the best sleep I’ve had in a long time, if ever since sharing the bed with Noelle. I squint to see it’s Wire calling. A one a.m. wake-up call is never good. I swipe the screen to answer, “Yeah,” I rasp, shaking off remnants of sleep.
“Prez,” he says with a sense of urgency. “We’ve got a situation. Some fucker walked into the bar earlier tonight, just before the last call, ordered a drink, then started asking about Noelle.”
The mention of Noelle has my full attention. “Anyone open their mouths?”
“You know the locals won’t say a word, but I could tell he was extremely suspicious that they were lying. He also showed them a picture of Noelle and Zack.”
Knowing someone is in town looking for my woman puts me on edge. In the short time she has been in my life, Noelle has embedded herself inside my heart. This stranger’s presence ignites a rage so hot inside me that nothing could extinguish it. “What’s this fucker look like?” I ask, aiming to hunt the bastard down.
“Around six feet tall, unshaven, dark brown hair, with facial tattoos. He didn’t stick around long. I had Poet tail him to a local hotel. He’s still there, keeping tabs on him now. What do you want to do?”
Adrenaline surges through me. “Don’t make any moves yet. Send Tech to watch over my place. The rest of you head over there with Poet. Stay out of sight. You don’t need to draw any unwanted attention. I’m on my way.”
“Understood.” He ends the call.
As I leave the bed, I glance down at Noelle, who is fast asleep, her hair splaying across the pillow. I take a moment to watch her before walking to the other side of the room, my movements silent. Stepping into the closet, I retrieve a pair of jeans and a warm, long-sleeved flannel shirt and slip them on before pulling on my socks and boots. I slip my cut over my shoulders while looking back at Noelle again.
I holster my gun at my hip and sheath my knife inside the shaft of my boot. Grabbing my keys, I look back at Noelle one last time before padding into the hallway and quietly entering the living room checking on Zack.
Finally, I go to step outside into the predawn air. The cold cuts deep when I open the door, biting at my skin. Digging the phone from my pocket, I open the security app and arm the cabin. Outside, shadows from the branches of the trees dance across the ground at my feet as I make my way to my truck, the hardened areas of frozen ground crunching beneath my boots. I throw the door open and climb in, the engine’s hum breaking the silence as I pull away.
The drive down the quiet roads on the way to town is agonizing, each passing second increasing tension building in my chest. What does this motherfucker want with Noelle? My gut tells me this man is entangled in the situation Noelle and her brother are running from.
Headlights break through the darkness as a vehicle approaches the bend in the road ahead. I pass Tech in his truck, heading to my place. We slow our speed long enough to acknowledge each other before seeing nothing more than taillights in the rearview mirror.
A short time later, I roll into town, heading for the hotel. I spot my brothers’ vehicles parked near the dumpsters at the backside of the building. I park and step out into the biting cold, every breath a vapor plume.
Wire steps forward and extends his hand. “I got the key from Bill. He’s in room 213, but the place is crawling with guests. We need to keep this quiet,” he says.
I keep my voice low. “Split up. I want eyes everywhere in case this asshole has friends lurkin’ about that we don’t know about.”
Venom races through my veins as Rooster and I make our way across the parking lot and up the staircase leading to the second floor of the exterior rooms. As we approach room 213, I glance around and catch sight of an older man perching against the railing five doors down from our location, the glowing embers of his cigarette illuminating his aged face. He turns his head, noticing me watching him. The old man casually takes one last toke, snubs the cigarette beneath his boot, gives us a nod, and then disappears into his hotel room.
A muffled voice floats through the hotel door. “Like I told you. I saw no signs of the bitch, but my instincts say she’s somewhere in this little shithole of a town. And I will find her.”
The motherfucker’s words intensify my need to get answers. I draw my weapon, holding it steady while my men cover me from behind. With a steadying breath, I tap the keycard against the pad beneath the handle and burst into the room.
Inside, the room is dimly lit, a single lamp beside the bed casting a yellow glow. The bastard’s eyes glint with surprise and fury while he holds a whiskey bottle halfway to his lips. Photos scattered across the table nearby catch my attention—all images of Noelle. The man’s eyes dart over to the bed, where a gun lies at the foot next to a wad of cash and a set of keys.
“Move, and you’re a dead man,” I spit, aiming my gun steadily at the man’s chest. Coming up behind him, Rooster aims at the bastard’s head. Wire walks into the room and secures the weapon on the bed, tossing it along with the other items into a duffle bag he snatched from a nearby chair.
I stare the bastard down with violent intent. “Who are you?”
The man smirks. “I’m not telling you shit.”
“You’ll wish you had.” These are the last words the son of a bitch hears. In one swift motion, Rooster swings the grip of his gun, crashing it against the man’s skull, and a sickening thud echoes through the room. I watch as the man’s body collapses to the dingy carpeted floor. “Brewer, bring your ride around. Poet, dig through his shit and find identification on the bastard, and if you find any, send it to Tech. I want to know all we can about this guy.” I holster my weapon. “Load him up and take him to the shed.”
As I lean against the cold steel of the shipping container, hidden on the backside of the club’s compound, I fold my arms across my chest, eyes locked on the man tied to a chair in the middle of the dimly lit interrogation room. He put up a bit of a fight, so my brothers have already worked him over a little. He’s breathing heavily as death looms in the stale air.
I flip his driver’s license over in my hand. “Carlos Reyes from Texas. We could have made this short and sweet, but now…” My calm voice is tinged with a deceptive warmth, letting our guest conclude what happens next. “You have no idea whose town you stumbled into, do you?”
He meets my gaze defiantly, or at least he tries to. His nostrils flare, and his eyes haze over with the realization that he will draw his last breath tonight.
“Why are you looking for Noelle?” I ask, stepping closer, my shadow falling over him like a dark, forbidding omen.
“Fuck off,” he spits. “I’m not telling you shit.”
I can’t help the smirk creeping across my face. The stupid son of a bitch doesn’t realize yet that this is not going to end well for him. With a flick, I gesture Brewer to step forward. He is a mountain of a man with fists that know how to break bones and a smile that rarely touches his lips unless blood is involved, but tonight, I’m inflicting all the pain.
“Take off his shirt,” I order, the steel in my tone undeniable that I mean for the stranger to feel an immense amount of pain before his death. Brewer grips the man’s shirt, ripping the fabric, exposing his flesh. “This is your last chance, Carlos.” I slip a pair of brass knuckles onto my hand. “You might want to reconsider answering my simple question. It only gets worse from here.”
With no warning, I bring my fist down on the man’s ribs. There’s a sickening crack—the sound echoing off the steel walls.
The man gasps, air escaping his lungs.
“Who sent you?” I asked.
“Go fuck yourself,” he wheezes, struggling against the zip ties biting into his wrists.
“Wrong answer,” I reply, slamming my fist into our guest’s rib cage once again. The tension around us thickens. “Let’s try this again.” I land another blow, this time on the man’s jaw. His head snaps back, and a grunt escapes his lips as he tastes the blood dripping out of his mouth. “Rob send you?”
Lifting his head, he glares defiantly, blood trickling into his mouth as he grins through it all. “Rob is nothing more than a weasel who owes my boss a fuck ton of money. Nothing you do will make me tell you who sent me to this shithole.”
Rage twists in my gut at his defiance. Reaching down, I unsheathe the knife hidden in my boot and twirl it between my fingers. “Who is your boss?”
“I’m no nark.” He grins. “But I told him about the piss ass bikers in this town.” He spits at me again.
I reach down, grip his nipple, slice it off, and revel in his pain as the screams rattle the steel container walls and his face contorts in agony.
“You have no idea who you are fucking around with.” Carlos breathes heavily as blood runs down his torso. “This town has something that belongs to him, and he will stop at nothing to get the debt he is owed,” he seethes through gritted teeth.
“Noelle?” I question.
The shadows in his eyes reveal more than words ever could, yet our guest remains silent.
The darkness creeps in like tendrils around my consciousness, and silence falls like the quiet before a storm.
Carlos’s manic laughter breaks the silence. “He’s coming for you. And he will claim what he is after.”
Unease settles in my chest, knowing a threat hangs over our heads. The thought of someone invading our territory and threatening my family adds fuel to the storm raging in my head.
Sparing no ounce of mercy for the man in front of me, I pull my gun from its holster, shove the barrel down his throat, and listen to him choke. “Let him come. Me and hell will be waiting.”
I pull the trigger.
Several Hours Later
As my brothers gather around the table, I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples to relieve the building tension.
Brewer shuts the door, taking his seat to my right.
I get down to business, looking directly at Tech. “You got anything for me?” I say, sounding like a broken record, considering I was asking the same question only two days ago regarding Noelle’s stepdad. However, this situation is different. The level of concern for her and Zack’s safety is now elevated.
“The guy, as you know, is from Silver Lake, Texas, and has a rap sheet a mile long…” He looks down. “Assault, theft, drugs, you name it.” Tech opens a folder sitting in front of him. “He has ties to a strip club operation there in Texas that this guy owns.” He slides the picture across the table to me. I pick it up, getting a good look at the guy. He’s dressed in a flashy suit and has short dark hair, dark eyes, and a scar above his right eye. “His name is Vincent Stone.” I pass the photo to Brewer, and it goes around the table. “His clubs have been raided several times for illegal gambling, and his name is tied to rumors that he’s involved in the skin trade.”
“Sounds like he’s the scum of humanity,” Poet states.
I reflect on what his goon, Carlos, said before I ended his life. “The dead motherfucker stated Noelle was a debt he was collecting.” The knot in my gut tightens, and heat rises in my chest.
“Before long, someone will come lookin’ for their guy and Noelle,” Brewer says, and his words make the air in the room oppressive.
My blood runs cold. As a club, we’ve seen and dealt with our fair share of darkness, but we hold a hard line against motherfuckers who prey on the vulnerable.
“What’s the game plan?” Rooster asks.
“We will keep doing what we’re doing… protecting the family and this town, no matter the cost.”