Chapter Twenty-Nine
Banshee
When Mimic ran out of the clubhouse and told us the bar had been attacked, we moved. And we moved fucking fast. Aspen was worried about Grace, but I’d seen Johnny in the clubhouse so I knew Grace wasn’t working.
Kytten jumped on behind Cash, and Indie climbed on behind Mimic. Bane ran to one of the SUVs we had in the lot. We left the keys in them, seeing as they were parked in the lot behind the locked gates.
It took minutes to ride through town to the bar. As we were pulling in, I saw a truck barreling out of the lot from behind the bar. Without a word, I took off after the truck.
My brothers would handle whatever shit had gone on inside. This might be our only link to who had shot up the bar. Though it didn’t take a genius to figure out it was the Death Dogs.
I hit the throttle and followed after the truck. I’d been living in Nebraska for almost six years now. I knew these roads like the back of my hand. If whoever was in that truck had grown up here, they might be able to lose me. But if it was someone unfamiliar with the roads, they wouldn’t get away.
I followed the truck onto the I-80 and sped up. I needed to get up next to it and see if I recognized the driver before they got too far out of town. Nebraska might be flat, but there were a lot of dirt farm roads that led nowhere and yet still gave options for hiding in plain sight.
I pushed my bike hard and got up next to the truck. I turned to my right and looked at the driver. He turned his head and winked. The fucking dick winked at me as if I weren’t looking at a goddamn ghost.
I shook my head, trying to clear my vision, convinced I wasn’t looking at who I thought I was. He veered to the left toward my bike and forced me off the road.
Before I could get control, I was sliding through the grass on my side. My bike slid out from under me and stopped about ten feet ahead of where my body lay.
I couldn’t move yet. My body was too fucking old for this shit. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laid my bike down. Though technically, I didn’t do shit.
Jude fucking Peterson had run me off the damn road.
How was the son of a bitch alive? More importantly, why hadn’t he shown his face before now? I didn’t like where my mind went, but there was no stopping it.
Was he working with Skinner?
I heard bikes coming up the road and sat up. Getting to my bike, I stood her up and walked her back to the road. I’d just kicked down the stand when the bikes came into view.
I dropped my chin to my chest.
I was fucked.
I pulled out my phone and quickly sent a text, then dropped it at my feet. I didn’t know if my bike would be left here, but I knew there was no way in hell they’d leave me here.
I smiled when they pulled up. They were all low level, and the one leading the charge was none other than the cocksucker who beat the hell out of my woman.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” the son of a bitch crowed as though he’d won a prize.
My hands sat on my hips, ready to grab my gun the moment I needed it. I kept my mouth shut, as Trent Davids, AKA Pepper, AKA Aspen’s asshole husband swung his leg over his bike and walked toward me.
“Hey, Breaker, you know who this asshole is?”
“No, man. Who the fuck cares, anyway? Just kill him and get it done.”
Pepper turned around and faced Breaker. “This is the bastard who was offered my wife before me.”
“No shit?” one of the other men called out.
“No shit.” Pepper walked a little closer, tilting his head at me as he moved in. “Saw the Gods of Mayhem roll through town. You know where my wife is?”
“Haven’t seen Irene since the day I told her father he was an asshole for selling off his daughter.”
It was true. Irene died the day he put her in the hospital. Aspen was born and that’s who she was now. Aspen was mine.
“What the fuck are they doing there then?”
“Came to visit.” I shrugged. Did this asshole honestly believe I would just offer up club business? Even if Aspen weren’t living in the clubhouse, I wouldn’t tell him shit about Diana showing up after twenty-something years.
Pepper eyed me suspiciously. He was a dumb son of a bitch, but maybe if I played my cards right, I could get him to reveal a little information of his own.
“Why’d the Death Dogs move to Wyoming?” I asked, not expecting an answer.
Pepper grinned.
Gotcha, motherfucker.
“We’re taking over.”
“Pepper, shut the fuck up,” a man in the back hissed. I looked at his cut. Rumble.
“Why? He’s a dead man, anyway. Won’t hurt to tell him shit.”
I kept my eye on Pepper as my hand slid slowly around my back until I had the grip of my gun secure in my hand.
“The Silver Shadows’ days are numbered. Skinner’s patching you all over. He’s got a rich-as-fuck backer who wants to take over the Federation, and we’re helping him do it.”
“King won’t do shit.”
“That pussy won’t have a choice. Steele is the man in control, and anyone who doesn’t fall in line is dead,” Pepper boasted.
“Then I guess I have nothing to lose.” I shrugged. “Skinner know about your little side business?”
Pepper’s eyes widened a fraction, before he closed himself off. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“All those drugs you cut and sold; the money you’ve got stashed away.”
“What the fuck is he talking about, Pep?” The biker named Grim stood from his bike.
“He’s bullshitting.”
“Am I? See, if I’m gonna die anyway, I might as well tell you, I do know where Irene is.
And she told me everything. The drugs you stole, the money you stashed away.
The men you fuck. Okay she didn’t tell me that but it’s the only explanation for why you couldn’t get it up for her.
Because I fucking can and did. She’s waiting for me in my fucking bed. ”
While they were distracted by my revelation, I pulled my gun and shot Pepper in the head. If I was going down, I would at least take the cocksucker with me. I would make sure Aspen was safe. She wouldn’t have to run any longer. No more looking over her shoulder waiting for this asshole to find her.
I shot another Death Dog before they realized what was happening and pulled their own guns.
“Don’t kill him!”
I felt the burn of the bullet hitting my shoulder, and another in my leg. I fell back, hitting my head on something. As I lay there, bleeding, I heard them giving orders.
“Howler, call the prospect and get him up here with that van.”
“What do you want to do about Pepper?”
“Fucking leave him for the vultures.”
“Get this one packed up. We’re taking him back to the clubhouse. He clearly has information we need.”
The blackness closed in around me as their voices faded. My last thought was of Aspen, splayed out on my bed, waiting for me.
The pounding in my head woke me up. Or maybe it was the quiet voice I heard.
“Psst, hey. Are you awake?”
I groaned as my hand reached for my head and I realized it was tied down. I opened one eye and saw my hands tied to a chair. I tried to move my feet only to find they were tied up as well.
“Hey, wake the fuck up.”
I raised my head and saw a girl tied to the chair in front of me. I shook my head trying to clear the ghosts. I would swear I was looking at my baby sister.
“Asshole, wake up,” she hissed.
“Asshole? What the fuck did I do?”
I turned away from her to look around the dark room we were in. My mind was fucking with me. I’d think I was in Hell, but my sister wouldn’t be there. Kaylah was pure. She was everything good in my life. And looking around at the dirt floor and bars on the windows, this certainly wasn’t Heaven.
“Where are we?”
“The clubhouse,” she sneered.
“What clubhouse?”
“The Death Dogs’. What did you do to piss them off?” she asked, and I focused on her again.
Her eyes were blue, deep like the Caribbean Sea. Brighter than my sister’s. I hadn’t realized until she was gone how little light my sister had in her eyes. I hadn’t realized my father had snuffed it out.
Her hair was blonde—a shade lighter than Kaylah’s. But her cheeks were high, like my baby sister’s. Her chin had the same dimple Kaylah had.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was her. But this girl was young. Mid-twenties, maybe.
“Why are you here?”
“How much time you got?”
I looked down at my wrists that were tied tightly to the chair and then smiled at her. “Doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere.”
“Story of my fucking life.”
“What’s your name?” I asked her.
“You don’t know my name? You don’t know who I am?”
My head hurt as I tried to think about who she might be. Had I met her somewhere before? She looked so much like Kaylah, but surely that had to be my fucked-up brain hallucinating from banging my head on the ground.
I groaned again as I tried to move, and suddenly my head cleared as pain shot through my shoulder and leg. FUCK!
They fucking shot me. At least I killed that son of a bitch.
I felt the smile spread across my face, and she sneered, “What the fuck are you smiling about? You think your president is going to save you?” She looked me over.
“Then again, you’re a patched member. You rank higher than his fucking daughter. ”
“What? King doesn’t have a daughter.”
“Who the fuck is King?”
“My president.”
“No, he isn’t,” she argued.
“I think I know who my fucking president is, little girl.” I turned away, looking for something, anything that might help me get the fuck out of here.
“Steele is your president.”
I snapped my head around to her, nausea swirling in my belly from the pain and sudden movement. I closed my eyes, trying desperately not to puke.
“Steele is the president of the Mother Chapter. How do you know Steele?”
“He’s my father.”
I blinked my eyes, trying to clear my brain. Shaking my head didn’t work; in fact, it only made things worse.
“How many fucking daughters does the bastard have?”
“There were two of us,” she said quietly.
“You and Grace,” I murmured.
“Who the hell is Grace?”
I took a deep breath. I couldn’t focus enough for this conversation. I eyed the young girl as she sat across from me. Her glare told me she was angry, not scared. Which meant she had been through some shit.
“Your sister.”
“My sister’s name was Kinsley.”
“Was?”
The woman looked away then. There was something in her eyes that spoke of sadness. “She’s gone. Like my mother.”
Something in her voice caught my attention. The way it squeaked just a smidge. Most people probably wouldn’t even notice it. But I did. Because my sister had the same squeak. When she was sad. When she was trying to be brave.
“What happened to them?”
“My mother died. She just couldn’t take the abuse anymore.” Then she shrugged. “My sister was there one day; the next she was gone.”
“What is your name?” I asked.
“Kyllian Ward.” She sighed.
“What was your mother’s name?”
Kyllian looked up at me and said, “Kaylah.”