Chapter Eleven
Dagger
“I never thought the day would come when I said this,” Atlas declared. “But what would Bandit do?”
I shot him some side-eye.
My pop may have been dead as a goddamned dodo, but he was still in the doghouse.
Abe snorted. “That crazy fuck would load himself up with grenades and go blow ‘em all up.”
Atlas leaned forward until his elbows rested on the Speed Demons patch, which had been carved into the sturdy oak table in Church. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
I gave him a withering look. “He’d also land every brother in goddamned prison. You wanna leave our women exposed while we’re all doin’ a twenty stretch?”
Atlas sat back and folded his arms across his chest.
“I’ll take that as a no,” I said pointedly.
“Can’t we send Breaker in to at least blow the Sinners’ compound sky high?” Cash asked.
“We could if we knew where the fuck it was,” I replied. “We already blew up their old clubhouse, and they scattered. Any of those fuckers who drift into town get intercepted by us, and they either exit quick, or we take ‘em out permanently. Bear’s gone underground, and Breaker already took out his number two when the fucker snatched little Kady girl. Now he’s blown up Henderson’s house of horrors, and I’m waiting for the pigs to turn up and question us, seeing as the sheriff knows we’ve got beef with the motherfucker. Hello, rock, meet goddamned hard place.”
“There’s gotta be a way to infiltrate,” Cash insisted. “We’ve got some of the military’s best tactical minds among our brothers, plus FBI resources. The Sinners are ragtag at best, so why the fuck can’t we pinpoint their damned clubhouse?”
My pinkie touched the smooth carved gavel next to my hand. “We’ve only had the Feds in our corner for a few weeks. Colt used to track them down, but he’s not a Demon anymore.”
“Can’t Arrow do it?” Bowie demanded.
I shook my head. “Arrow’s good, but he’s not Colt.”
Every eye slid toward me as unspoken accusations hung in the silence of the room.
You forced him out.
We lost a good man.
You did this.
You fucked up.
Nobody said the words, but I could still hear them clear as day. Or maybe it was just my own guilty conscience talking.
“We do got a way in…” Atlas began, his words trailing off.
“Spit it out,” I ordered.
“You won’t like it,” he warned. “But it seems to me we’ve got a prospect in our ranks who can easily infiltrate. He told us himself he’s been workin’ an angle. He’s young, smart, ambitious. The lad wants to help, so why the fuck aren’t we allowin’ it?”
Abe rose slowly from his seat and leaned across the desk toward Atlas, his mouth twisting angrily. “You’re not sending my boy in to spy. It’s too fuckin’ dangerous,” his voice rose to a roar, “he’s eighteen years old, goddamnit!”
Atlas held his hands up defensively. “Hear me out, brother.”
“No!” Abe slashed a hand through the air. “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind? Mason’s full of bravado; all young men are at his age, but he’s nowhere near ready for that kinda risky shit. If they cotton on to the fact he’s undercover for us, they’ll kill him. End of.”
“I’m not sayin’ we should send him straight in,” Atlas pointed out. “We’ll take time to train him. Bowie and me can get him in the ring. Breaker can teach him to be a shadow, and Cash can take him through weapons trainin’. Hell, my woman can take him through some Krav moves if need be. If things get dicey, he gets the fuck outta there.”
Abe sat, his elbows hitting the table, and dropped his head in his hands. “Iris will lose her shit. You forget what they did to her, Atlas. Do you think she brushed it off? No, it stayed with her. The notion of Mason infiltratin’ the gang who raped and tortured her will mess with her head. I won’t allow it.”
Atlas tipped his head to the side. “He’s a prospect for this club. His loyalty is to us. Would you send Billy in?”
“Billy’s more experienced,” Abe retorted, looking up. “Course I would.”
“Would you have sent Sparky in?” Atlas challenged. “He wasn’t as experienced as Billy.”
Abe opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out.
Atlas leaned forward. “I know it’s dangerous, but Mason took on the prospect role knowin’ exactly what it entailed. We can’t wrap him in cotton wool. It’s not fair, and more importantly, it’s not what he’d want.” He sat back and folded his arms across his barreled chest. “We’ll ask him what he thinks; give him a choice. If he doesn’t wanna do it, there’ll be no hard feelin’s.”
Abe's shoulders slumped as if all the fight left him in one big whoosh. His eyes, bleak with helplessness, lifted to meet mine. “I don’t like it, Prez.”
My pinkie touched the gavel again; maybe I was hoping it would give me some kind of inspiration on how the hell I was meant to deal with this shit.
Being Prez of an MC wasn’t easy.
The club was full of strong personalities that often opposed each other. It was my job to listen to both, weigh up the pros and cons, and make an informed decision.
Abe was against Mason going undercover—and rightly so—but my buddy was coming from the perspective of a father lookin’ out for his son. I wouldn’t expect anything less from my oldest friend. Abe was all heart; therefore, he was also my conscience. He was the only brother who challenged me and told me the truth, even when it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I trusted him more than I sometimes trusted myself.
Atlas was an SAA through and through. It was his job to protect the club, which he did faultlessly. He was the type to sacrifice one for the many, and in a way, he was most like Bandit. Now, my dad had his faults, but he loved his club and his brothers and always put them first. Every MC needed loyal men, and Bandit took it too far; however, Atlas didn’t.
In this case, they were both right, and they were both wrong.
The instant Mason slid a prospect cut over his shoulders, he became a Speed Demon, and just like the military, Speed Demons would happily die for their brothers in arms. Every one of my boys, at one time or another, had put themselves at risk for my club. They didn’t get or want preferential treatment—hell, I was often harder on them than the others—but they wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
However, Abe was right. Mason hadn’t been in the military, and he certainly didn’t grow up around bikers who had toughened him up like my boys had. Still, he’d fended for himself out in the world when he ran away from the children’s home to rescue Seraphina, so he had street smarts.
My eyes caught Abe’s. “I can’t treat Mason differently from the other prospects. It wouldn’t be fair on him, and above all else, he wouldn’t want me to. However, if he’s not ready, sending him wouldn’t be effective. He can train for five days, then we’ll assess his skills and make a decision.”
Abe hung his head, and he nodded.
“He was with the Sinners for a few days last year,” Cash pointed out. “Won’t they recognize him?”
“The boy’s bulked out a lot since then,” Atlas noted. “His hair’s buzzed now, and he’s got ink. We can get him colored contact lenses and dye his hair. Plus, most of the Sinners from back then are dead, and their prez is in the wind.”
“Whose this girl he met?” Bowie asked. “How’s she gettin’ him in?”
Abe released a hard breath. “He heard she was the daughter of one of the top guys in the club and sweet-talked her. She’s the girl he got that damned face tattoo for.”
Cash eyed Abe. “How does that get him in?”
“Like I said, she’s a club princess,” Abe explained. “The girl told Mase her pop said she’s only allowed to see boys from the club. So she asked him to prospect.”
“Jesus,” Bowie muttered. “Trust them to keep their women to themselves. They probably couldn’t get decent girls from town, so they hand over their daughters.” He shook his head in disgust. “Do we know who her dad is?”
“Pick. He’s their new enforcer,” Abe advised.
“Never heard of Pick,” I admitted. “I thought Scarab took over as their enforcer after Atlas ran the previous one down after the shoot-out at the side of the road last year.”
“Breaker shot Scarab when the Sinners attacked the clubhouse on the day of Sparky’s funeral,” Cash told us.
“Thought that was Dread,” Bowie argued.
“I shot Dread,” I interjected. “Dunno if I killed him, though.”
Abe gave a low whistle. “Damn. We’ve killed so many, we can’t keep up.”
“At this point, I’m thinkin’ we should’ve shot more,” Atlas muttered under his breath.
“We would if we could find the fuckers,” I scraped out.
Cash looked at us in turn. “With any luck, Mason can get a bead on ‘em.” His eyes fell on Abe, and he grimaced. “Sorry, brother—”
He was interrupted by a loud banging noise.
My forehead creased. “Come in.”
The door flew open to reveal Breaker standing there with an envelope in his hand. “Sorry I’m late,” he said apologetically, stepping inside Church and closing the door behind him.
He walked around the table, taking the seat between Bowie and Abe.
“You okay, Son?” I asked. “You back to yourself?”
He sat back in his chair, and his eyes met mine.
The blankness on his face from the night before had dissipated. He seemed full of life, albeit exhausted. Kit had sacrificed his peace of mind for the club and, more importantly, Elise, over the last seven days.
“Thought it was better to let you sleep in, Son. You’ve had a hard week, and you’re getting married in a couple of days. If anyone deserves to chill out, it’s you.” I dipped my chin. “You good?”
Kit knew what I was getting at. Whenever he went into soldier mode, he shut down his emotions. It was a skill he’d been taught in the EOD when he was sent on bombing missions during the war in Afghanistan.
“I’m good. Kady got me sorted out,” he confirmed, a faint smile playing around his mouth.
Kit and Kady had a beautiful bond. Father and daughter were connected in ways that I didn’t totally understand, and it blew my mind. Kady was full of goodness, and she had no problem giving that to her dad. He lived for Kennedy and his kids, and he’d already proved he’d die for them, too.
“How’s the girl?” Breaker asked.
Atlas’s lips thinned. “She’s good. The fuckers nabbed her from Laramie two days ago. She scored a new job, went out to celebrate, and got roofied. Poor bitch woke up in the van as they were delivering her to the mayor. She’s traumatized but lucky they didn’t assault her. They probably didn’t get time.”
“That’s good, at least,” Breaker said, his mouth twisting in disgust.
“We took her back home this morning,” Atlas added. “She’s gone to her folk’s house in Cheyenne, so she’ll be safe. Sophie had a powwow and managed to convince the girl to keep everythin’ on the down-low.”
“She would’ve agreed to anythin’ she was so damned grateful to get outta there,” Cash interjected. “Luckily, she’s gotta mean streak. When we promised we’d take out the assholes who nabbed her, she seemed more open to lettin’ us deal with it.”
Breaker nodded. “I saw her get delivered from the attic window. They weren’t exactly gentle with her. Those fuckers have gotta lot to answer for.” His eyes slid to meet mine. “They ship ‘em out from a port in California. They didn’t say a name; they just kept mentioning Cali. That’s where Bear is; he oversees the shipments, and it keeps him off our radar.”
My eyes rounded. “Jesus, Kit. You’ve hit the jackpot.”
He shrugged. “It’s not much to go on.”
“It’s more than we had yesterday. Maybe we can track Bear down now we know his vicinity.”
Atlas smirked. “I’ll send a couple’a men over to check out the ports. You never know, they could find out where they ship the girls from.”
“I should go,” Kit declared. “You need manpower here. I can go solo and turn into a shadow. They’ll never know I’m there. I’ll find out what we need to know quicker and get my ass straight back here. If we can tip off the Feds and they raid the shippin’ container, we won't need to go to war, the FBI will lock every fuckin’ Sinner up, and we’ll only have to clean up the dregs.”
I sat back in my chair, eyes glued to my youngest.
Kit was a soldier through and through. He’d gotten more info in the last week than the rest of us had gotten in the last year. For years, I assumed he was a fuck-up, but since Kit had gotten treatment for his PTSD and become a family man, he’d come on leaps and bounds.
My club was way better and safer for him being in it.
“You did good, Son,” I muttered. “Should’ve sent you in there weeks ago.”
Murmurs of agreement filled the air.
Breaker dropped the envelope on the table, unaffected by my words. “I looked around the place and even got into Elise’s room. It was an eye-opener. She’d made it into a mini apartment. TV, a little refrigerator, a book corner. I reckon the only time she left that room was to leave the house.”
I tamped down my irritation. Elise had already told me that he initially didn’t give her any choice. Later, it probably became her sanctuary.
“In the early days, he kept her imprisoned there,” I grated out. “He probably moved the refrigerator in there to avoid her fuckin’ starving to death.”
Mutters and curses filled the room.
Kit slid the envelope toward me with his index finger. “Also, I found this in her drawer.”
Reaching out, I picked it up and stared at it.
“It was hidden at the back of her nightstand,” Kit explained flatly. “I took a quick look—not to be nosy—it just felt important somehow.”
Unease washed through my gut as I studied the envelope.
The fact Kit brought it back with him proved that whatever was inside, he thought it important. Curiosity suddenly got the better of me. Without a thought, I carefully opened the paper flap and pulled out the contents.
I stilled when I saw the collection of photographs. Peering closer, my throat heated when I saw they were of a little girl with long dark hair and golden eyes.
Something punched inside my chest, and I pressed my hand to it, trying to ease the pain radiating from my heart.
At that moment, looking at those images, my lungs felt like they’d implode because it hit me how much I’d missed of my daughter’s life.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. She was pretty, a little doll, and she reminded me so much of my mom that I could’ve sat there and grieved all over again for Connie Stone’s loss. As I studied the images, I noticed they were in order, starting with Sophie as a baby, sleeping soundly and looking so much like Belle; it was uncanny.
I flicked over to the next one, another baby picture, but of Sophie sitting up on a white blanket, a smattering of dark hair across her perfectly shaped head, holding a rattle and laughing. I flicked to the next, then the next, each one in chronological order, representing Sophie’s childhood. Playing on a swing at the park, ballet, birthday parties, and family outings.
My stare fell on the final image. Sophie must’ve been about eight or nine years old. She was in the desert, standing in front of a large cactus, cuddling into a brunette woman who looked to be in her early forties. They were both beaming at the camera.
“Is this her mom?” I demanded, holding the picture up in front of Atlas’s face.
“Yeah,” Atlas replied. “Soph’s got that photograph framed. In fact,” he leaned across the table, picked up a couple more pictures, and scrutinized them, “she’s got most of these ones, too.”
“Fuck!” I dropped the photographs onto the table, lifting my hand to rub at the ache in my chest. “I sound like a dick, but a part of me’s grateful I never knew about her. If I got these the same way Elise did and knew she was out there somewhere, I’d either be doin’ a life stretch, or I would’ve ended up in a straitjacket. It’s no wonder it broke Elise’s heart. I couldn't imagine having these but not being able to have her in my life for all those years.”
“Henderson’s gonna pay,” Abe vowed.
Murmurs of agreement filled the room.
Breaker’s stare slid to mine. “Check the envelope. There’s somethin’ else in there. Dunno what it represents, Pop, but it might mean somethin’ to Elise.”
Heart hammering, I picked up the envelope and gently shook the contents out onto the table.
A soft chink sounded, and my stare fell on a small silver ring.
Automatically, I reached out to pick up the tiny piece of jewelry to study it, but my hand stopped, suspended mid-air as recognition smashed into my gut.
It was the ring I gave my Leesy when I made her my ol’ lady.
A heavy weight pressed down on my chest, and my throat thickened with emotion as I stared at the shiny metal circle.
How could I have forgotten her eighteenth birthday? It was the night I made her mine in mind, body, and soul. A sharp pain reverberated through me like I’d been struck by lightning, but my eyes remained fixated on that silver ring.
Memories flashed through my mind and burned inside my soul.
She opened the lid. “What’s this?”
“It’s a promise ring, Duchess. See that knot?”
Elise ran her finger over the curved loop of the ring.
“They call it an infinity knot. Or a Celtic love knot. It’s the symbol of never-ending love and unity. It represents us.” Gently, I slid it onto her finger. “When I come home, I’ll ask your dad for permission and replace the knot with a diamond. It’s my promise to you.” I tilted her chin up with a finger and stared into her beautiful eyes. “In the meantime, I wanna ask you a different question, one just as meaningful for me. Will you be my ol’ lady?”
“Really?”
I rubbed the ring on her finger with my thumb. “Yeah. Really.”
Tears filled her eyes. “There’s nothing I’d love more than to be your ol’ lady, John Stone.” She beamed up at me. “I love you so much.”
“Prez?” a voice called, pulling me from my thoughts.
I turned to Abe, almost dazed.
“You okay?” he asked, his eyes filling with worry. “You’ve gone white.”
Stunned, my stare slid back to the ring on the table, and my throat began to clog up. “Fuck!” I snapped, tipping my head back and pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes to stop my tears from leaking.
When I came back to Hambleton from Kuwait, I’d had to compartmentalize.
PTSD wasn’t known about back then. It was drummed into us that real men could cope mentally with anything. Only weak men let that shit get to them.
When I popped smoke, all I wanted was to come home to my girl. Maybe, deep down, I knew she’d help me heal. Leesy was my life, my heart, my soul, and losing her broke me in a way I never truly healed from. I went to Colorado and New Mexico to recover from being captured, and from everything going on at home, but instead, I found Adele. I had no choice but to shut down the love I had for Elise. It was the only way I could make it through.
But that damned ring unlocked the vault, and everything had come rushing back.
“Jesus, John,” I heard Abe breathe.
“Pop?” Cash said questioningly. “What the fuck?”
A wave of agony crashed through my insides, and I let out a deep, pain-filled groan. My eyes burned, and my throat squeezed so tightly I couldn’t breathe.
I heard the loud scraping of chairs scuffing across the wooden floor, and suddenly, my boys surrounded me. Comforting hands clasped my shoulders, warmth hit my back, and I took a deep breath, trying to center myself.
“Pop,” Cash murmured. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” I croaked, cracking my eyes open.
Atlas loomed toward me. “Never seen you take a wobble like that before, Prez. Thought you were gonna keel over.”
Abe spoke up from behind me, “It’s been a weird few weeks, John. What with finding out about Sophie and learnin’ that shit about Elise and what she’s suffered. It’s no damned wonder it finally got to ya.”
A hand squeezed my shoulder, and Bowie’s voice asked, “What set it off?”
I glanced over my shoulder to see my three sons at my back, and my shoulders relaxed. “Seein’ the ring and photographs. Everything we lost hit me square in the chest.”
“What’s with the ring?” Breaker questioned.
Pain stabbed through my heart again, but I breathed through it. “I gave it to Elise on her eighteenth birthday, the day I made her my ol’ lady. It represented everything we were.”
“Wait!” Bowie exclaimed. “This is a good thing, right?”
I lifted my eyes and watched the men return to their seats. “Huh?”
“She kept the ring, Pop,” he noted. “Kept it safe in her nightstand, next to her goddamned bed for thirty fuckin’ years. Those ain’t the actions of a woman who doesn’t give a shit.”
A grunt escaped Atlas’s throat.
“Son,” I said, ignoring my SAA’s glower. “I didn’t have her back. She doesn’t trust me, and rightly so. The night I slid that ring on her finger, I promised her one day I’d replace it with a diamond, told her I’d marry her and give her babies, and vowed we’d be together forever. Didn't keep my promises, Bo.”
Cash looked at me quizzically. “You say Elise is pissed at you?”
“Pissed is an understatement.” I deadpanned.
He studied me thoughtfully. “Maybe for once in his life, Bowie’s right.”
My forehead creased questioningly.
“Cara was so angry when I fucked her over, she couldn’t see straight,” he continued. “Years later, when we met up again at Bo’s weddin’, she was still raging at me. At the time, it was a nightmare; her anger was the main thing stopping her from givin’ me another chance, but I’ve realized since that Wildcat was angry because, underneath it all, she still loved me. It stands to reason Elise is pissed because she cares about you. If she didn’t, she’d get the fuck over it easily and just be—well—indifferent.”
“Believe me, Pop,” Bowie interrupted. “You’d know if your woman didn’t give a fuck. You said yourself that even when she acted ice cold, you could sense her anger simmering underneath.” He looked between the men, “Speaks volumes. She’s waited years for you to go claim her, but you never did, even after you and Mom got divorced. Abe told us you and Elise had a lotta love between ya and a lotta passion, too. He said back in the day, you touched her constantly. Everybody else felt like outsiders because nobody else existed when you two were together.”
Cash turned to me, and his head cocked. “Will ya do me a favor, Pop?”
My head reared back slightly. “What?”
His lips twitched. “First time you get back inside, take it somewhere outta the way. From what Abe just implied, everybody within a three-mile radius will feel the goddamned earth move the first time you two get it on.” His lip twitch split into a grin. “We’ve got kids to think of.”
A weird noise escaped Atlas’s throat, and his face paled. “That’s my mother-in-law you’re talkin’ about.”
Abe let out a hoot.
“You’re a dirty little bastard,” I accused.
The men began to laugh.
“Jesus,” I muttered. “You must get it from your mother’s side.”
Cash grinned at me before leaning forward and shooting me a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t like seein’ ya feeling so helpless, Dad. You and Elise will sort it. If me and Cara can make it after the shit I did, anyone can.” His expression softened. “You good now?”
As I stared at my boy, something hit me.
Not two minutes before, I’d been close to dropping to my knees and weeping like a baby. Now, I felt better, thanks to my eldest yanking my chain. He’d done it deliberately to get my head back in the game.
It made me realize how far my eldest had come.
Two years ago, he was fresh outta the slammer and carried a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas. He’d always felt he had something to prove—another legacy my shithead of a dad left—but with a fuck load of therapy, the love of a good woman, and the birth of his boy, he had sorted his noggin out. He’d taken responsibility for his shortcomings and was a better man for it.”
Cash couldn’t have made me prouder.
I shot him a look of gratitude. “Yeah, I’m better. Thanks, Son.”
He dipped his chin sagely.
“Right,” Atlas boomed. “Now we’ve got all that nasty business outta the way, let’s talk about the most important thing on the agenda.” He shifted to face Breaker and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Kitty cat’s bachelor party.”
“Don't get excited,” Kit advised it. “We don’t want a big shindig. Me and Kitten spoke had a chat and decided it was too dangerous to go out partying. We thought a family barbecue would be good. We want the kids with us when we celebrate. They’re as much a part of our journey as me and Kennedy.”
I must’ve been going soft in my old age because, yet again, tears sprang to my eyes, but that time, they represented pride for my son and what he’d achieved. Maybe I’d never get the woman who fitted me perfectly, but I was happy my boys had succeeded where I’d failed.
“I think that’s a great idea,” I assured him.
Breaker smiled. “Maybe you could try to get to know Elise better at the party. She’ll be relaxed and more open, right?”
Atlas cleared his throat. “Wait up. I still haven’t decided if you’re worthy.”
The boys snickered.
I sighed. “Give it a rest, fat ass.”
The SAA’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Keep tellin’ ya. My ass ain’t fat. I’m big-boned.”
“You ain’t got no bones in your ass,” I pointed out.
“It’s muscle,” he argued.
“It’s blubber,” I corrected.
Atlas raised a finger to point at me. “Right, I’ve decided. It’s a nay. You’re not startin’ somethin’ with my ma-in-law.” He sniffed disdainfully. “You’re mean as fuck.”
I grinned. “You’re a fuckin’ baby. You wind every fucker in the clubhouse up, then whine when somebody gives it back. I’m not stayin’ away from Elise. You’ll just have to deal.”
He pouted. “Nuh-uh.”
My grin widened. “She’s mine.”
“Nope,” Atlas protested. “She’s mine, Belle’s, and Stitch’s.”
“And mine,” I reiterated.
“Jesus,” Abe muttered. “It’s like two kids fightin’ over a shiny new toy.”
I took in Atlas, sitting there with a scowl on his face, and a spark of determination lit inside my gut.
Admittedly, I understood his reservations; I hadn’t treated Elise the way she deserved. I’d left her to deal with some heinous shit, stuff that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, let alone the woman I loved.
But seeing the ring changed everything.
Bowie was right; she wouldn't have kept it all those years if she didn’t care. I’d kept the arrowhead because a part of me couldn't let my girl go, even though I was married to somebody else and she gave birth to my kids. Elise had been a part of me for more than thirty years, and now it seemed I’d been a part of her, too.
I’d spend the rest of my life making up for not believing in her, and if Atlas thought he was gonna stop me, he was in for a rude awakening.
It was game on.