Chapter 27—Bass
I hate flying home. Always takes longer than the first flight. Even if it’s a short trip, it seems twice as long. Today is no different. Not only because I want to be back home already, but I know the best damn surgeon in the world is there. Okay, maybe General isn’t the best, but for me he is, and I trust him. Nothing wrong with getting a second opinion in my book.
The doc we used to patch us all up enough to get us back to the US alive was okay. But he spoke Russian, and I had to rely on trusting Tommy as an interpreter. Not that I don’t trust the guy. He proved his worth to all of us. It’s the fact that he was heavily medicated and kept passing out, so I’m not even sure he knew what he was saying, much less the doctor.
The crackling over the radio is followed by our flight crew announcing that we’re about fifteen minutes out, and they already have people on the way to take us to the hospital. Which won’t be happening. I can’t speak for Tommy, but I’ve got no plans of going back to a hospital anytime soon. General’s clinic at the compound is good enough for me.
We used our own team to get here, but since things went quicker than expected—though with a few left turns we didn’t plan on happening last minute—we’re using some connection Jimmy Travis has and got out on the quickest C-130 transport going Stateside. These guys are a good group, they just don’t know who we are, and since we have connections to an ex-CIA operative, we’re choosing not to get too friendly with them. Especially since we doubt anyone will take kindly to the fact that we just took out a major mafia kingpin and might have started a war if anyone learns we had the help of a certain mafia family based in the US.
Attacking another mafia is kind of like attacking another motorcycle club. There are rules in place to prevent all-out war. Not many, but enough that what Tommy and his family did to help us could cause some serious issues.
When we land, an ambulance is waiting as expected, courtesy of the flight crew, but so are four SUVs. Several men in suits get out of two of them, but it’s only two who have a family resemblance to Milly and Tommy. Now that I know what I’m looking for, the connection is obvious, even if they aren’t all twins.
Tommy didn’t dive into details about his sis, but I got the gist. He and Milly were the hell-raisers, doing typical twin things to cause problems. All but pretending to be each other, even if they tried a few times. But Bobby, the second oldest, could always call them out on it before it got too far.
Men gather the stretcher Tommy is on, carrying him to an SUV, where he sits up and lets them move him into the vehicle. Once he’s in, the others quickly get in. All but one. The oldest, Vinny—and, unless I’m mistaken, the head of the family. He stares us all down, me included, before he gives a nod to whoever is in the other SUVs and then enters his own, shutting the door behind him. As soon as he does, the two SUVs drive off.
Another door slamming shut pulls my attention, and I grin. Fuck, it’s good to be home.
“About damn time you got your ass back. Place has gone to shit with you out,” Jumper says as he crosses the distance between us and pulls me into a one-armed hug.
“I knew you always had a thing for me.”
He matches my energy. “Nah, wasn’t talking about you. I was talking to the prospect.” He gestures behind me to the guy pulling our gear off the racks, giving him a chin lift.
“Ain’t going to be a prospect much longer,” I say under my breath.
“No shit?” Jumper pulls his head back to look at me. “Damn, going to have to start thinking of his road name.”
“Already got one,” Domino says as he walks by, giving his buddy his own chin lift as he hauls our stuff to our vehicles.
“You fuckers have all the fun. What’s it going to be?” Jumper asks as he looks back to me for insight.
“Guess you’re just going to have to find out.” I grin, and for the first time in a long time, it feels good to joke around with my brothers. For a while there, it almost felt as if it was expected. Then Milly showed, and laughing wasn’t on the menu, not when there were other things to do with my mouth. But now? After everything that’s happened, all the blood spilled, laughing seems like the best damn thing in the world.
“Fucker. Okay, well, let’s get this shit on the road. Boys are holding Church for you. Where’s Koop?”
I look back and nod toward the two making their way to us. “Mickey’s got him.”
Jumper hisses through his teeth at what he sees but keeps his mouth shut as they both limp down the cargo bay ramp. “Shit,” he finally says once they’re out of hearing range .
I nod. “That about sums it up.”
I step out with Mickey as he pulls a smoke from his back pocket. He offers me one, but I never was big on smoking. My dad lived for it, and I swore I’d never become like him.
I nod to a few of the other brothers who exit Church with us. Mickey wasn’t involved, as he isn’t part of this chapter, but he asked me to join him when I got out. Brothers might know of Mickey, but few talk to him. I think half fear what the man can do. I see him for the asset that he is. The guy comes from a large-ass family, and a smart one at that. They spread themselves all over the world and dive into any rebellion they can find. If there’s one happening someplace, you can bet your ass that Mickey’s family involved.
Hell, the only reason the Hounds sent him and no one else to Russia was because of his connections. His cousin got us with the underground, hooking us up with the armory we needed and the people who were expendable. Not that we wanted to, but everyone knew the score: go after Ivan and you chance not coming back. I didn’t ask how many we lost when we raided that asshole’s place; I just know we won, and I brought back the people I went in with. Sometimes it’s easier to think of it that way and not worry about what was left behind.
Callous is probably the word to use for me, but it’s what I need to do to survive. Living with regret all day, every day, is no way to live. Just forces the guilt on yourself for lives lost in a war you were part of. Ivan may have made this personal for me, but he also made it personal for so many who volunteered to help. To each his own. If they were anything like me, it didn’t matter if they were the one who shot the bastard dead, just that they were a part of it and got to see him fall in the end.
“How’s the hand?” Mickey asks as he gestures to my bandage that General redid.
I rotate it, feeling the ache and the pain before I shrug it off and put it down by my side. “I’ll live. You?”
He nods. “Same. General said the doc got all the shattered bone fragments out, but it’s going to be a bitch to heal. Wants me to be on rest for longer than I’ve got. Told him to fuck off. He stuck me with the knee brace and already called my president. Guy already left me three messages demanding that I get my ass some rest, or he’s pulling my patch.”
I huff a laugh at that. Hounds don’t like to be benched. Leave it to General to call every person he knows to get what he wants from a patient. If Mickey’s ma was still with us, he’d have called her too.
“He’s still working on Kooper,” he says softly after blowing out smoke from his last drag.
I nod, already knowing this. Church was held off for as long as we could, but decisions needed to be made, and Bulldog finally called the meeting to order with both General and Kooper on the outside. He had their votes already. Things needed to be handled, and waiting wasn’t a luxury we had. If things were different, then that would be one thing. When the votes were called, it was unanimous, and the club had a new mother chapter president. And Casper’s it. Bulldog never wanted to go up in the ranks, happy in his role as the VP. The obvious choice for the club was always Casper. He was born to lead, to take charge.
A horn blares a second before a truck— my truck—slams on the brakes and waits for the gate to open. It takes a second, and the person driving has no problem blasting the horn over and over again.
“Fucker’s inpatient,” Mickey says as he stands and watches, just like half the damn club who’s come out to see what’s going on.
“You have no idea,” I mutter as I take a few steps toward the gate. I already know who it is. Can see her pissed-off look from here, and I’m already sporting half a chub just from that alone.
As soon as the gate is wide enough for my truck to get through, she still smashes the damn side mirror off. On purpose, no doubt. She gets as far as where I’m standing before parking and hopping out, fire on her heels.
“What the fuck, Milly? You borrow my truck, and this is how you treat it? I oughta tan that ass—”
She squares me good with a right hook I don’t see coming. I turn my head to face her, ’cause she damn near knocked it right off, and she hooks me with her left, making me stumble back.
“What the hell, Milly?” I look up and see another damn suit, but this time he’s holding her back. Another brother, no doubt.
“You no-good goddamn bastard.” She kicks at the big guy, but he holds tight.
Another car pulls in, another damn SUV, and I’m sure I know who it belongs to, as it parks right beside my truck. At least this one has Ollie hopping out of it. I give the kid a chin lift, but movement catches my eye at the last minute as Milly comes running at me again. Not sure if her brother let her go or if she’s just that good at getting out of a hold. Chick has been through hell before, so who the hell knows. When she goes to swing at me, I grab her hand this time.
“Stop. Just fucking stop that. What the hell is wrong with you?” I throw her hand back, pushing her back a step or two.
“I’ll stop when you stop being stupid.” She swings at me again, and I step back in time to only get nicked on the shoulder.
“Jesus. What the hell has gotten into you?”
“That was for going after Ivan.” She fakes left and then nails me in the stomach.
I swear I’m better than this, but I’m so confused and a tad bit against smacking her back—unless it’s on her ass—that I’m getting my ass handed to me by a girl I went to war for.
“And that was for getting hurt.”
This chick is certifiable. “Oh yeah, and what the hell do I get for killing the son of a bitch?” I’m so done with this bullshit. I just wanted a warm welcoming. Is that too much to ask for? Fucking world is against me.
She stops coming after me and squints her eyes, questioning me. “You killed him?”
I run my hand through my hair and then curse, as it’s bandaged. “Yeah, and I sure as hell expected a little more than this for gratitude.”
“If it’s gratitude you want, look for it somewhere else, ’cause all you’re getting is this. ”
“This?” I look at her with shock that she expects me to appreciate getting smacked around.
“Yeah, this.” She leans in and kisses the fuck out of me, biting my lip as she goes.
I pin her to me and don’t give a fuck who’s watching as I take everything she gives me. She’s a fucking firecracker, and I love it. Love every damn thing about it. Fighting with her is one of the best damn things I have ever done, and my dick agrees, as it’s a raging hard-on.
Fucker is crazy in the head, just like me.
When we pull apart, she nips at my lips once more, and I just keep her locked in close as I rest my forehead on hers. “Damn. Might have to piss you off more often.”
She picks at my shirt, looking at it before looking at me. “I’m playing nice because my brothers are watching, and if I don’t, they’ll kill your ass. And if anyone is going to punish you, it’s going to be me.”
I huff at that before pulling her in for one more kiss that ends when Ollie speaks.
“Can we go home now?”
Home.
What a novel concept. A month ago, home was a place I considered my solitude, my sanctuary. But now? At the mention of it from the kid, being alone is the last thing I want. Having someone else there sounds damn nice.