Chapter 28
Itry to remain strong as Brody and Nessy speed back down the driveway in the Landy, my heart in the back seat, still sound asleep, unaware that her mum is about to face off with her biggest threat.
“Say it again,” I whisper.
“She’ll be fine. Brody will call Devon as soon as he gets service, and Bobbi will be with your sister in no time.”
I nod, trying to let his reassuring tone ease my mind, but all I feel is gut churning sickness as I watch the car pull onto the road and drive away.
They’ll be okay. The threat is here with me, not chasing after her.
I think of the Rebels then, remembering how nearly every time we left to go somewhere, they would appear. I’m thankful most of them were dealt with. We haven’t seen any since the airfield, but I know some remain.
Either they are regrouping, or doing what’s smart, and keeping their distance to stay alive.
As the headlights fade in the distance, I turn and look towards the barn where light is flowing out from the main doors. It’s quiet. There are none of the typical sounds of biker celebrations or Doxy orgies.
It’s just quiet.
“Angel, you don’t have to go in there. We can jump on my hog and ride the fuck away.”
I nod at Ringo’s words, but he knows I will. I have to, for me. For Bobbi. I have to face the real monsters once and for all.
“I don’t understand why they are here.” I glance up at my husband. “And why they are still alive. Wouldn’t Smitty try to kill them?”
Ringo shrugs. “He might be waiting for you to come and do it yourself.”
“I get the feeling that they aren’t exactly prisoners,” I mutter, glancing back towards the barn, and Ringo’s fingers slip against mine, linking our hands.
“I get the same feeling. But you know Smitty. The crazy fucker always has a surprise up his sleeve. Maybe he’s luring them with kindness and getting ready to strike.”
“Maybe,” I grumble, and we start walking quietly up the driveway towards the barn.
It’s cold out here, but the chill I feel in my bones has nothing to do with the temperature outside, and everything to do with the people inside that barn.
As we get closer, we can hear background music playing, but the only voice we can pick up is Smitty’s. It’s not loud enough to make out what he’s saying though, so it’s hard to gauge what the atmosphere is like inside.
Glancing around the yard, I notice the fire drum alight, hot embers floating up as the wood inside burns, yet no one stands around it.
There are no lights coming from the few tiny houses that line the yard, and the only lights coming from the direction of the bungalows are the faint ones lining the path.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” I whisper, and Ringo’s hand squeezes mine, dragging my attention to him.
“Keep your hand near your gun, but don’t make it obvious you’re carrying if you can. Is that knife still in your boot?” he asks, and I nod. “Good. That’s your backup.”
“Hopefully, I won’t need it,” I whisper, and his strained smile isn’t the least bit reassuring.
“First thing you do when we go in is track my team. Make sure you know exactly where JD, Murf, Vender, Mex and Jols are. They will move into place to get close to you without me asking, and if shit goes bad in there, you do what they say to get you safe. Got it?”
A grin tugs at my lips. “You’re so bossy.”
He smirks back. “You fucking love it.”
The next thing I know, his lips are pressed to mine in a very quick, yet searing kiss, helping somewhat to ease my nerves and reminding me that I’m not alone.
I have him.
I have the others.
We will be okay.
When Ringo reaches for the small side door, I take in a deep breath, preparing myself to see my mother and Banes. My grandfather.
This is it…
Swinging the door open, Ringo steps inside, tugging me in behind him, our hands still locked together. With my free hand, I keep it just behind my back, ready to reach for my gun if I need it.
“Ahhh, finally,” Smitty sing-songs, and as Ringo steps aside showing me the space, I forget how to breathe.
There, sitting casually like they are having Sunday sippers at a table with Smitty and Spud, are Banes, my mother, and my sister, Maggie.
Shit.
SHIT.
My heart lurches at the sight of seeing them again. Especially sitting so casually on Southern Sadists soil. I kinda hoped they’d be strung up like pigs.
“Breathe, Angel,” Ringo murmurs under his breath, and I give his hand a slight squeeze as I take in more air, focusing on my breathing, and not looking scared.
Last time I saw them, I was living in a world where my daughter was dead. I was ruled by my grief. My heartache. If I were still living in that world, I’m quite certain I would have pulled the gun out and shot all three of them by now.
But that’s not my reality anymore. I still want them gone, but the raging violence I felt before isn’t there.
“What the fuck is going on?” Ringo snaps, moving us deeper inside, all eyes on us.
Shit. What was it I was meant to do when we stepped inside?
Oh, that’s right, find the others. See where they are in the room.
Quickly, I scan the space, finding Jols just to my left with JD close by. Murf is with Lewy over to the right, and Vender and Mex are across the room, behind Smitty.
That’s when I see two more people here that don’t look like they belong.
The first is Blake Moore. The guy Smitty had sent into the Rebels undercover. We haven’t heard from him in ages, and had wondered if he was dead, but maybe he’s just been focused on keeping the ruse alive. Or maybe he’s switched sides.
The other guy is wearing a leather cut that says Rebels on it. Panda, I think they call him.
I look around, expecting to see Ian Allen somewhere, but he’s not here. Hopefully he bled out and died after the airfield attack.
“We have some visitors,” Smitty sing-songs again, like the weirdo he is. “They’ve come to meet little Bobbi.”
The blood in my veins turns to ice.
“As you can see, Bobbi isn’t here,” Ringo snaps, and I can tell by his tone that he’s likely glaring at Nate right now.
What’s Smitty playing at? Is he tricking them?
It’s the most likely explanation.
“I can see that.” Smitty grits through clenched teeth, and I get a little satisfaction at catching him off guard. “You should go and get her. Don’t be rude to our visitors.”
Oh, hell no.
“What is this, Nate?” I snap, and his furious glare darts to me.
I called him Nate on purpose, knowing it would piss him off in front of his ‘guests.’ It’s blatant disrespect, but right now, I don’t give a shit about his bloody pride.
“You should show more respect to your elders.” Banes dares to speak, and my eyes lock with his. “Honestly, Priscilla. Didn’t you teach her anything?”
My lips twitch as my mother shrinks back in her chair, embarrassed after getting scolded by her father.
“Oh, she taught me stuff.” I grin. “She taught me that I don’t want to be anything like her.”
Soft snickers float around the room, which only seems to annoy those sitting and standing around Nate’s table.
“Hmmm.” Banes sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “She has the devil in her, Priscilla. Lucky you gave life to two more beautiful daughters.”
My lip curls in disgust at his words, but he drags his gaze from mine, focusing on Maggie.
“Come here, Maggie.” He pats his lap, and my sister stands from her chair.
I practically gape as Maggie rounds the table to go to him, glancing at me with a smug grin, like she just won the popularity vote, and I lost.
As she lowers herself to our grandfather’s knee, I stiffen, feeling Ringo’s hand squeeze mine in support, watching as Maggie links her hands behind his neck, and lets him place his big old wrinkly hand on her thigh, rubbing it up and down, way too high to be considered innocent.
No.
Shit.
No, she hasn’t… he hasn’t…
“Where’s my granddaughter?” my mum dares to ask, ignoring what her father is doing to her other daughter.
“Not here,” I snap, and she rolls her eyes.
“Fiddlesticks, Abigail. Go and get her now.”
My brows hitch. “Even if she was here, I wouldn’t get her. You aren’t going anywhere near her.”
“You little bi—”
“Why don’t we get down to business.” Smitty claps his hands, standing from his chair and rounding the table as everyone watches on.
“What fucking business?” Ringo barks. “We don’t do business with paedophiles.”
“Business is business,” Smitty snarls, clearly having enough of being made to look like he’s not in control. “And this is long overdue.”
“What is?” Ringo snaps, and I swear, you could hear a pin drop as we all wait for Smitty to clue us in on what’s happening here.
“A trade.”
For a long beat, no one speaks, but I feel Ringo squeeze my hand, and this time I don’t think he realises he’s doing it a little too tightly. “What sort of trade?”
The Rebel, Panda, steps forward, hoisting a bag onto the table, unzipping it, and pulling out a handful of cash.
“Nine hundred K, as requested,” he mutters, smirking at Ringo as he hands the cash to Smitty.
“The fuck!” Ringo growls, dropping my hand and taking a step forward. “What’s the money for, Nate? We don’t fucking trade with cunts like this.”
Smitty waves Ringo off, running his thumb along the stack of one-hundred-dollar bills.
“You know what this money can do for us?” He holds it up for everyone to see.
“Everything we had went into buying this land to give you a home, but this money can buy us riches to enjoy on the land. More hogs. More housing. More deal buy-ins.” He brings the money down and fans himself with it as he rolls his hips. “More women.”
“Hell, yeah.” Spud thumps the table next to my mother, who jumps in her chair before shuffling closer to her father. “We’re overdue for some fresh pussy!”
Some Sadists cheer at that, but most don’t, and a quick look at the Doxies shows they aren’t happy, either.