Chapter 15
Daria and Lennon demanded medical care for Effie and expressed outrage at Cash’s insistence we take her to the clubhouse. I thought he was out of his fucking mind, too. It didn’t matter how many questions I faced—how much time I’d end up doing—I couldn’t see a way around not rushing her to the ER.
But I was outnumbered. Out of my club members, only Drifter and Dad rode with us. Striker refused to allow anyone from the Austin chapter to ride at my side, though Dolph, Desmond, and Raider volunteered.
Since the Death Dwellers were on the line too and considering they’d risked their lives to assist when my brothers wouldn’t, I ceded to their demands. While we searched the warehouse, Cash ordered Saw and Ziggy to bring the van used to transport Lennon. They took Effie back to the club in the van. Unfortunately, they also placed two dead men, one head, and three live Satan’s Sinners in with her.
Back at the club, I rushed to the van, expecting a hysterical Effie. She remained unconscious. When I carried her in, Daria lost her shit. By now, her son and other daughter had arrived. I knew this because they looked like Lennon and they sat at a table with him.
Cash ignored their insistence that we call an ambulance and ordered me to lay Effie on the bar. Her injuries horrified me and I regretted killing Dutch so quickly. He deserved a slow, painful death for what he’d done to her.
I kissed Effie’s cracked, bloody lips. Her bruised cheeks. Her blackened eyelids. Her swollen nose. I touched her neck, the imprint of Dutch’s miserable fingers so clear on her once flawless skin. I caressed her battered belly, almost lost my shit at the purpling on her breasts. Even in her state, she shivered.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I whispered.
Cash shoved me out of the way and covered Effie with a thermal blanket. “See to her cuts, Ophelia,” he ordered.
Sick to death of Cash, I pushed him. “Motherfucker,” I gritted. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he barked as Ophelia snapped on medical gloves and dug into a first aid kit.
Furious, I swiped that paltry shit away. Ophelia halted and blinked at me.
Cash lunged, but Stretch held him back.
“Stop, Cash. He’s upset,” he soothed.
“I don’t give a fuck. That upset motherfucker will respect Fee.”
“ Effie needs a hospital,” I snarled.
“Motherfucker, you call an ambulance and we all go to jail.” Cash jerked out of Stretch’s hold. “We have no contacts in Austin. We don’t have a chapter here. Calm the fuck down. It’s fucking handled. Josh is landing the McCall family plane shortly with help.”
Saw stepped next to me. The club was silent. Even Effie’s parents had quieted.
“Your woman’s foot is injured. Ziggy picked out the glass on the way here and wrapped it with his T-shirt, but at least let Ophelia disinfect it.”
My woman. Effie. Yeah, she was my woman. Whether she hated me after this didn’t matter. In my heart, she’d always belong to me.
“We can’t afford a private plane.” Daria looked as broken as she sounded. “Please, let us take her. We’ll say she went for a walk and didn’t return. We searched for her one last time before we filed a missing person’s report and found her ourselves. We won’t even bring up any of your names. Just please let me help my baby.”
Cash’s face softened and he laid his hand between Daria’s shoulder blades. “I know you’re scared, Daria. I’ve put my mother through enough to recognize it, but I swear we will get her the best care available. If she needs more care than we can provide and we can’t figure something out, we’ll fly her to Hortensia. We have control over the hospital there. We don’t expect payment. Outlaw is all about family. His little sister is a fan of your work and thinks Effie is great. That’s all he needed to hear. What his wife, daughters, sisters, and nieces want, he gives them.”
Effie groaned and began coughing. Opening her eyes, she popped into a sitting position. The blanket fell away and exposed her tits.
“Mom?” she called. “Mom? Don’t be mad at me, Mom. I’m so sorry.”
Daria threw her arms around her. “I’m here, baby. I’m here. I love you. I love you,” she chanted.
“Where’s Dad?” Effie asked as if Daria’s words didn’t sink in. “Mom? Are you mad at me? Where’s Dad? I hope he doesn’t hate me.”
“I could never hate you, princess,” Lennon said around a sob. “I love you.”
Effie coughed again. “I’m so hot and cold. I want Cassie to read a story to me and fix her soup. Never mind,” she mumbled. “I smell it. I love you, Cass.”
“I love you too, Effie,” Cassie said, sniffling.
“Tell Heath I fought just like he taught me. He’s the best big brother ever.”
Heath nodded and pressed his lips together, although Effie didn’t see him. Her gaze was unfocused and she faced a different direction.
Effie swayed.
“Lay down, love,” Ophelia said softly.
“Okay.”
“I’m placing you on speakerphone, Mortician.” Until Cash spoke, I didn’t realize he’d stepped away. “Tell Fee what to do.”
“Which bag Stretch grabbed?” a voice said from Cash’s phone that now rested on the bar near Effie’s head. “You see IV supplies? Any vials of meds and syringes?”
Ophelia looked around at what my tantrum had scattered on the bar and the floor. “Negative. I think it’s just a basic kit.”
“It is,” Stretch said. “I thought we were only coming for recon. That’s why we’ve scrambled to get what we need.”
“She’s pretty bad off, Mort,” Ophelia said hesitantly.
“Fuck. Give me a few minutes,” Mortician said. “Austin, right?”
“Yeah,” Cash supplied.
The line disconnected.
“Slice?” Effie called and burst into tears. “Where’s Slice? I tried to save him. Dutch is a liar and a motherfucker. Tell him don’t go to Jackson. They’ll kill him and I love him,” she rambled.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” I said, surprised when Daria stepped back and allowed me to take her place. I brushed my lips over Effie’s, emotions swirling inside me. “Hey.”
Her unfocused gaze studied me and a smile tipped up her lips. “Slice—”
“Sit her up,” Ophelia said. “She’s burning up. We have to bring her temperature down.”
“When are we going to the airport?” I demanded, following Ophelia’s instructions. Holding the blanket in place, I wrapped an arm around Effie. Once she swallowed the acetaminophen, I guided her back down. “What are we waiting for?”
“That would be me.”
I glanced over my shoulder and found a man with black hair, dressed in trousers, loafers, and a button-down, smirking at Cash.
“Fucking asshole,” he snapped. “I fucking told you to wear jeans, Josh.”
“Which is why I wore trousers, big brother.” Josh zeroed in on my cut and smiled at me. “I love fucking with him.” Stepping to where I stood, he patted me on the back.
The Addams Family Theme Song blasted through the clubhouse. Josh lifted a brow, Stretch shook his head, and Ophelia rolled her eyes as Cash answered.
“Josh there?” Mortician asked.
Despite the serious situation, a chuckle escaped me. Fucking Cash. I didn’t understand why he chose that song, but his little brain probably justified it.
“I just rolled in,” Josh answered.
“Everything set up. I’m texting the address. Ms. Elodie will be waiting. Get Effie there, then hit me up. We need to get Ms. Elodie her money and the amount she want might take fucking days. You make the transaction and we’ll reimburse you, Josh. Ophelia, call me when you, Josh, and Effie on the way.”
“I’m going with Effie,” I said, the minute the call disconnected.
“No, you’re staying your fucking ass right here,” Cash said. “We have some assholes to take care of.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” For the first time since we arrived, I tuned in enough to hear Striker. Or, maybe, he hadn’t spoken until now. “What assholes and where the fuck are we seeing to them?”
Daria touched me. “May I…is it okay if I go with them?”
“Your entire family can go,” I said gently.
The last of my anger and dislike toward her died. I intended to push them to reveal the truth of Effie’s father. For health reasons if nothing else. Besides, genealogy kits flooded the market. If Effie recovered, what if she decided to discover if she was one of the motherfuckers who carried Neanderthal DNA? What then? She had the chance to find out how her parents had lied to her in a variety of ways.
Stumbling upon the truth would be worse than her parents sitting her down and confessing.
Josh went to lift Effie into his arms, but I inserted myself in between him and the bar, and swept her up myself.
Unperturbed, Josh turned and headed out the door. I followed without question. Outside, many of the Dwellers remained. They were smoking and milling about. More than a few surrounded the van. However, they fell silent when they spotted me carrying Effie. The sudden gravity on their faces and the nods of acknowledgement surprised me, but I didn’t feel so alone since I hadn’t seen Dad and Drifter once we left the warehouse.
At the end of the block, Josh stopped at a black Escalade ESV. Ophelia scrambled into the cargo space. Josh nodded to me. Sighing, I laid Effie down and rested her head on Ophelia’s lap.
“Need an escort, McCall?” a Death Dweller called. “Or you got this?”
“I can handle it,” Josh answered, smiling at Cassie, then holding the door open as she climbed into the front passenger seat. “Thanks, though.”
It took everything in me to stay calm and help Daria into the SUV, watch Lennon get in behind her, accept his son’s pat on the back before he followed his parents inside, and step back.
“Go inside and have a drink,” Josh said through the open window once he settled into the driver’s seat. “Just trust us. We won’t allow anything to happen to her. Right now, you have club business. Follow Cash’s orders. He’s a fucking jerk, but he’s smart and he’s good at what he does.”
“Come on, Slice.” Stretch’s voice surprised me. “The sooner we settle everything, the sooner you can get to Effie.”
He was right. Taking balls in hand, I flattened my palm against the SUV and knocked on it, then stepped out of the way. Josh reversed the short distance to the intersection, halted, then swerved forward and sped off.
Back inside, Striker greeted me with a punch. “Motherfucker, I told you I didn’t want no fucking heat. Not only do the Sinners know you’re hiding here, but I’m pretty fucking sure the cops are going to start breathing down our necks.”
Most members of Red Rum’s Austin chapter glared at me. Cash, Stretch, and the Death Dwellers glared at Striker.
“You got something to fucking say?” he snarled, glowering from Cash to Stretch.
“Yeah, fuckhead, I have a lot to say,” Cash said, “but, lucky you, I don’t have time.”
“I could fucking shoot you,” Striker roared. “I’m the president.”
“Maybe, but you’re not our president,” Cash retorted. “Thank Christ. I would’ve left this motherfucker so far behind given your lack of loyalty and brotherhood.”
“Enough, Cash,” I inserted. He couldn’t insult my fucking club. “You can’t disrespect my club. This is how we operate. We pay our dues to National, but each chapter earns their own money, unless Riker gives an order like he did to me. We don’t bring our problems to other chapters.”
“The motherfucking national president brought the goddamn problem to you ,” Cash sneered. “Therefore, it should be an organizational problem. What the fuck is wrong with you assholes?”
“I take it you don’t have any place to see to your enemies?” Stretch asked with a smidgeon of hope. “A basement? An attic? A dungeon?”
“My chapter has a small room and our mother chapter has an underground room,” I said.
“Are we fucking at your chapter or the mother chapter, Slice?” Cash demanded.
“We don’t make those fucking types of enemies here,” Striker yelled. “We try not to off motherfuckers too often because we’re such a small chapter, but when we do, we don’t bring ‘em on our fucking turf.” He pointed a finger at me. “This stupid motherfucker botched the fucking interception. He made the enemy. Only reason Riker tried to smooth things over was because of Drifter.” He glanced around. “Where is that motherfucker anyway?”
“At the warehouse with Goose and a few Dwellers,” Cash said. “Cleaning shit up. Thank fuck it’s a Sunday.”
“This is my club,” Striker roared. “Your interference is done. My law goes. I’m the leader.”
“Then lead,” Cash said. “Tell me what to do with the bodies. Tell me what to do with those bozos that need icing. If you wanted this goddamn problem to be local, advise your brother to have the local presidents give his fucking orders to their members. Then it’s local.”
Striker knocked me on the side of the head, and I growled. “You shouldn’t have brought your fucking ass to that signing.”
“You don’t think I regret that decision?” I barked. “Effie…Effie’s…” I couldn’t fucking finish. I’d never been in a position where I had to choose between my club life and attending to a gravely injured person I loved. I felt torn in two, my head split between duty to my patch and the need to be at Effie’s side.
“The bounty was on your fucking head,” Striker continued. The derision on his face crucified me. “Pretty Boy Floyd. Nothing but a fuck-up. Don’t belong in that fucking cut.”
If Cash hadn’t shoved me behind him, I would’ve struck Striker, and then that would’ve been my ass. He was an officer, while my classification was a special enforcer, above a regular member, but not on par with him.
“Let’s just get those motherfuckers in here, deal with them, and hit the road before this ends badly,” Saw said.
“That okay with you, Striker?” Cash gritted.
I could almost hear his teeth gnashing.
“Do it and then get the fuck out and don’t set foot here again.”
Ziggy and two unfamiliar Dwellers quickly marched in three bound and gagged motherfuckers. Their fear pleased me, though their attempts to speak worked on my fucking nerves.
“Shut them the fuck up,” Striker ordered. Three of my brothers hurried over and knocked the fuckheads out with the butts of their guns.
Dislike blazing in his eyes, Cash looked at Striker. “You’re offing them, Prez ?”
Striker smirked at me. “We rescued his bitch. Let Pretty Boy Floyd do the honors.”
I regretted leaving my machete in my saddlebag. After lopping off Dutch’s head, I’d wiped the blade on my black jeans and hurried to Effie. Before I rode out, I shoved the knife away and left it there when we arrived here.
“I think all those camera flashes gave him amnesia.” Striker laughed at his own joke. “He don’t even know what the fuck to do anymore.”
Suddenly, I understood Drifter’s determination to join Riker in Vegas and Dad’s insistence that he lead his own chapter. My twin belonged to the most powerful chapter and Dad fostered loyalty and unity. Perhaps, Striker agreed to start the Austin chapter because of the same competition that led him to his road name.
Once I’d been Floyd Elmont, then Pretty Boy Floyd, but I was Slice. I was a biker and I’d die for my colors. A part of me wished I had the chance to form my own chapter. If I brought in money, Riker would stay out of my way. My first order of business would be an alliance with the Death Dwellers.
I was Slice , the man Effie loved, even in a delirious state. Hopefully, I got the chance to prove myself worthy.
I studied the three unconscious men, wishing they were aware they didn’t have long to live.
Cash followed my line of vision, sipped from a bottle of beer, then took a drag of his cigarette. “You don’t need a knife to slice a motherfucker. Broken glass works, too. Jagged metal. Even hard plastic.”
He was right.
“Head shots are quick and easy, but not nearly as satisfying,” he continued, smoked again, then finished his beer and held out the bottle to me.
Smiling, I took it and got to work.