Chapter Twenty-One
Dagger
The lights inside the Cell were dimmed. The only beam of brightness in the cavernous room came from the spotlight blinding Shotgun as he hung naked from the meat hook over the thick tarp we’d covered the concrete floor with.
Me, Hendrix, Cash, and Atlas sat staring at our brother, or rather ex-brother, seeing as he’d committed the worst crime imaginable and ratted out his club. Bowie and Breaker had first go at Shotgun; they’d beaten him black and blue, getting out all their pent-up anger before going to shower the traitor’s blood off and return to their families.
We’d been playing while we waited for Fender to come and finish the job.
I thought back to earlier that day and the havoc the bastard in front of me had caused.
By the time we got to the women, Hendrix and his men already had everything under control. The Sinners’ SAA, Howler—the asshole Shotgun had colluded with alongside Bear Rawlins—already caught a bullet between his eyes, but there were still four others we got to execute.
Shot had been recruited by Bear about a month before.
My brother had admitted that he held resentment toward me after the fight with Colt. After he had my back, he’d built an expectation of being asked into the inner circle, even thought I’d invite him to become an officer somewhere down the line, but of course, it didn’t happen.
The final straw was when Colt came back to the club. Shotgun decided he didn’t want to be a part of a club that worked with the Feds—doing so went against everything he believed in, especially after his dad was shot dead by a Fed twenty-five years ago when he was carrying out a bank robbery in Denver.
Instead of coming to me, Shot went to Bear, who promised him a seat at the Sinners’ big table as long as he helped take us down. They decided the best way to bring us to our knees was to take our women and kids, and they were right, except they didn’t know we were watching them.
The emotions coursing through me weren’t positive ones.
I felt sick to my stomach, and my deep-rooted guilt felt like a noose tight around my throat, squeezing so hard that it hurt to breathe.
I’d sent our women and kids into an ambush that had killed Ashley and Maze. Iris was traumatized, and so were the kids. Abe couldn’t look at me, and Fender couldn’t look at anybody because he was so lost inside his grief. His two eldest kids were at summer camp, and Fender was going to pick them up and then take them to his folk’s place in Iowa the next day.
He needed time to pull his family together and be there for his kids, and I’d make sure my generous, sensitive brother and his children would get everything they needed, including time and peace.
The women were mostly okay, though I was positive sleep wouldn’t come easy for a few nights. As usual, Kennedy and Cara bitched about the Sinners and what they’d done. Layla stood proud because the club regarded her with newfound respect. Sophie went about her business the same way she always did, by looking after everybody.
The biggest surprise was Elise.
More SUVs turned up to get the women and she took charge immediately. She ushered the most frightened ol’ ladies and their kids into the first SUV and ordered Iris into it, telling her to look after everybody. It was the best thing she could’ve done, because Iris dried her eyes and went straight into momma bear mode.
An hour later, Leesy walked into the clubhouse and took charge again.
In no time, the men were fed, and the women and kids were settled. She told me to go deal with club business and leave everything else to her. In the moment, she reminded me of my mom—cool, calm, and together.
My chest swelled with pride because she was everything nobody thought she ever would be, except me. I knew thirty years ago she’d find her strength one day. What I didn’t know was the shit she’d have to endure in order to do it.
But then maybe what she went through gave her the strength to become this incredible woman who took charge when the people she loved needed guidance. I hated the thought of what she’d endured, but I appreciated how she used it to draw on the inner strength she displayed.
Elise had proven she was a survivor, and now she was proving she was also an ol’ lady—and a good one at that, seeing as she understood exactly what we were doing down here and encouraged it.
My eyes fell on the set of knives I’d pulled from my room.
I’d not used them since the day Iris was taken. I still threw knives and axes with Kai and Mason, though my treasured set hadn’t made an appearance. This was a special occasion, though, and just like that awful day thirty years ago—when I found Iris strapped naked to a table, bruised and bloody—a statement had to be made.
The thwack of fists hitting flesh filtered through the room.
I looked up to see Atlas naked from the waist up, punching Shotgun’s torso. The angle the traitor’s body hung from the meat hook and the concave of his torso indicated his ribs were busted up. He was pale, too pale, because he’d lost so much blood. The bullet holes had stopped bleeding briefly, but every time we began to beat him, they reopened, and blood dripped down his body onto the tarp-covered floor of the Cell.
He’d begged us for forgiveness, but I didn’t have it in me to care. The instant I looked under the blanket that covered Maze and Ashley in the middle of the road, I knew what Shotgun’s fate would be.
I was gutted at what he’d done, gutted that he’d stood by my side, whispering words of violence, in the minutes before I beat Colt. I should have seen it in him then, but my own bruised ego consumed me.
But not now.
“Move,” I ordered, pushing away from the wall I was leaning on.
Like the Red Sea, the men parted.
My eyes went back to the table, and I touched one of my knives reverently. “Last time I used these was on a Sinner, Shot,” I announced, my voice ragged with pain. “Seems fitting thirty years later, that they come outta retirement for another Sinner.”
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed.
“What for, brother ?” I spat. “Betrayin’ us, killing your brother-in-arms, or killing a defenseless wife and mother?” My stare flicked down his fucked-up body in disgust. “Or are you sorry for tryin’ to steal our women and kids and sell them to perverts? Tell me what you’re sorry for, Shot.”
He moaned in pain.
“You’ve broken my fuckin’ heart,” I muttered, picking up a knife and taking a step toward him. “You’ve destroyed my trust. If my dad was here, he’d have strapped you to the wheels of his bike and rode a hundred miles an hour, dragging you behind on the ground until you were flayed alive.”
Shot let out a sob.
“You’re lucky I’m not as sadistic as he was.” I pulled back my arm and threw my knife at him as fast as lightning. A flash of metal glinted as it flew through the air, and then Shot let out a cry as the blade sank into the upper thigh of his right leg. “I may not be as sadistic as my pop, but I’m still my father’s son. Talkin’ of which…” My stare went to Cash. “Go get Fender. Tell him it’s time to end this.”
Cash nodded and, without a word, turned and stalked from the Cell.
“You hear that, Traitor?” Atlas grunted. “You’ll be out of pain soon, though if I know Dagger, you’ll be praying to meet your maker by the time he’s finished.”
I picked up another knife, testing its weight in my hand while my eyes flicked over Shot, deciding where to land it. Pulling my arm back once more, I tossed it and waited.
Shotgun’s reaction didn’t disappoint. He cried out as the blade landed just below his ribs on his left side.
“I love the symmetry,” Atlas crowed. “Matchin’ wounds on each side.”
Hendrix let out a chuckle from the chair he was lounging in.
“Was it worth it, Shot?” I called out. “Was it worth betrayin’ your family, and your brothers, just to sit around a table where you’d arrange who, when, and how to traffic women, little boys and girls, and babies? Is that something your dad would be proud of? I know how he died, but I also know a lotta thieves, and they’ve still got a moral compass. Would your aunt be proud of what you’ve done? Or would she look at you, shake her head, and ask herself where she went wrong?”
I took another knife in my hand and threw it without even aiming. Something inside me just wanted to cause him pain, like he’d done to me. I may not have been hanging from a meat hook with knives stabbing into my skin, but the pain I felt was just as bad as his.
He was my brother, a man I trusted, and he’d shredded me.
The door opened, and my heart jumped into my throat.
My head swiveled to study Fender as he stumbled into the room, a broken man.
He walked toward Shotgun, seemingly in a daze, his eyes roaming over the man who’d killed the woman he loved.
He scraped out one word. “Why?”
Shot’s pain-filled eyes went to the man who called him brother, and he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Without a word, Fender reached inside his cut, pulled out his Sig P365, pointed it at Shotgun’s head, and fired.
I jumped in surprise, my ears ringing from the booming explosion.
Fender’s arm dropped, and he stood there, staring at Shot. “I’m leaving tomorrow to get the kids, Prez,” he rasped.
“Okay, brother,” I said, my tone strangled.
“I dunno what I’m supposed to do now,” he muttered flatly. “She was my everything.”
My throat burned. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Fender.”
He nodded. “Can you arrange to transport her to her folks in Iowa?” he asked. “I want her in a place where she’s loved and where she’ll be looked after.”
“I’ll arrange it ASAP,” I vowed.
Finally, he turned away from Shotgun, his blank eyes lifting to meet mine. “I love being a Demon, Prez, and I love my kids being part of it, too, but I dunno if I can come back. I see her everywhere I look.” His chest began to heave, and his face crumpled.
I rushed at him, curled my fingers around the back of his neck, dipping my chin to look him dead in the eye. “You’ll always have a place here. Take your time, and think about what you wanna do. If you miss the brotherhood but can’t face coming back, I’ll ask Hendrix to take you.”
“You’re welcome in Virginia, bro,” Hendrix declared. “I’m thinkin’ of opening a small auto shop. It’ll be basic, but you’re a talented engineer. You could run it.”
“I can’t think about it now,” Fender replied flatly.
“It’s okay, bro,” Drix reassured him. “Like Prez said. Take your time.”
“I thought it would make me feel better, killin’ him,” Fender murmured. “Thought avenging her would make it bearable, but it still hurts so bad I can’t breathe.”
“You loved her,” I muttered. “You still do. Just because she’s gone, it doesn’t mean your feelings disappear. You’ll probably never totally get over it, but you will learn to live with it, and you’ll do it for your kids. We’ll be there every step of the way. If you need me, call, and I’ll move heaven and earth to give you what you need.”
He nodded, dazed. “I know.” He paused, then asked, “Will you do something for me?”
I jerked a nod. “Anything.”
His stare met mine again, but that time, there was steel behind it. “Kill ‘em all. Make them pay for what they’ve done. Annihilate that club so they can’t take somebody else’s wife and mother away.”
I met his stare head-on. “Won’t rest until it’s done.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, turning to leave.
“Take care, brother,” I said gently.
Fender gave me a nod and walked toward the door, disappearing through it without a backward glance.
I heaved a breath, scraping a hand down my face. “Fuck!”
“He’ll get through it,” Drix assured me. “He’s stronger than you think.”
I stared at the door Fender had just walked through and cleared my throat. “I think you’re right— Fender will get over it—I’m just not sure I ever will. Losing an ol’ lady on my watch is shameful.”
A warm hand clasped my shoulder. “Pop,” Cash muttered. “You didn’t kill Maze or Ashley. The Sinners did, and Shotgun had a hand in it too. It’s fuckin’ awful, and it’ll stay with us for a long time, but don’t twist it into somethin’ it isn’t. We need to get our shit together and defend against those assholes before somebody else dies. Call a meet; we’re taking those bastards down, ‘cause the best thing we can do for Fender is to keep our word and wipe those fuckers out, once and for all.”
“Most of ‘em are in County,” I informed him. “Bear got away, and Henderson’s slippery sonofabitch lawyer put up bail money, so he’s out.”
Hendrix rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Can’t wait for our clean-up tomorrow. Has Colt pulled back?”
“Yeah,” I replied. My eyes met my eldest boy’s, so much like mine. “When it’s done and dusted, I’m out. The club’s yours. You’re ready, and I’m so fuckin’ tired, Xan.”
“Let’s get the job done, Pop,” he suggested. “Then we’ll talk about the future.”
I nodded my agreement, but deep down, I knew.
My heart wasn’t in it anymore. I loved the club, but it needed fresh blood. My boys would take care of their legacy, and I’d still be around if they needed me. I just wouldn’t be wearing the patch.
The instant we killed the last Sinner, I was done.
“So,” I muttered, picking up the plans from the table and folding them up. “We take it to them, and we do it tomorrow. They’re gonna think we need time to regroup, but we don’t. Losin’ Maze and Ashley the way we did was a blow, but we’re still standing. We hit them with the element of surprise, and we keep goin’ until every one of those fuckers is either dead or in custody.”
“Do we give ‘em a choice?” Cash asked, his mouth stretching into a grin. “Take the bullet or do the time?”
“I don’t give a fuck what you do,” I replied. “Just make sure you don’t leave yourselves vulnerable. We move in at oh-six hundred. Be ready to ride thirty minutes before. Tonight, kiss your wives and kids goodnight and tell them this time tomorrow, one way or the other, it’ll all be over.”
Silence descended over the room while every man sitting around the table fell deep into their thoughts.
It was a significant moment, years in the making, and we all knew it, me and Abe probably more than the others. My mind went to my twenty-first birthday when my ma and pop gave me my old, green bike, the one I’d been eyeing up ‘cause it was the same color as Leesy’s eyes.
“Is that new club over in Mapletree still causin’ shit?”
“Yeah,” Mom stated. “Dad had a face-to-face with their VP, Thrash. They want in on the Demons’ business. He offered Dad their backup if needed.”
My brow creased in thought. “I don’t trust ‘em.”
Mom’s amused stare slashed to meet mine, and she smiled knowingly. “That’s exactly what your dad said. Needless to say, he passed. Told Thrash to keep the Burning Sinners out of Hambleton or get shot in the head.”
I hummed, deep in thought. “Maybe Pop should’a shot him there and then. It may have saved us some hassle in the future.”
Mom shrugged. “It’s not for me to say, John. I don’t get involved in club business. Your dad knows what he’s doing.”
I rubbed at the stubble on my face thoughtfully. “Right.”
I tipped my head back, thinking about how my club had suffered thirty-four years of bullshit from the Burning Sinners. It had been a mistake to let them settle so close to us—I knew that now—but back then, we all believed they had the same morals as we did and that ol’ ladies and kids would stay off-limits.
Then Iris was taken, and we got them in a chokehold when we killed the men who hurt her. We thought we had the upper hand and used them to offload the shit we didn’t want, but really, all along, they were biding their time.
Errors were made, errors that now had turned out to be deadly, but we wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
We were about to end a war that was thirty-four years in the making, and it would be all over in the space of twenty-four hours.
The men were prepared, we all knew where we needed to be. Colt had been briefed, traps had been laid, and all the major players had been pinpointed.
“Colt’s moved his men out,” I informed the table. “The Sinners who are left are partyin’ it up at the house Henderson’s ma left him. All cameras are off, and Colt’s got our alibis sorted. He's playing with our cameras, so there’ll be proof we’re at the clubhouse all morning.” I paused before asking, “Any other business?”
Silence.
I picked up the gavel and smashed it into the sound block. “Get the fuck outta here and go spend the night with your loved ones.”
A chorus of “ayes” went up and chairs scraped across the wooden floor, the men standing and making their way to the door.
Abe remained seated.
My stare met his and held while we had a silent conversation, waiting for the door to close behind Atlas, who was the last man out.
The second the door clicked shut, Abe’s forehead furrowed. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I rubbed at the ache in my chest. “You know that ain’t true.”
“The Sinners murdered them, not you,” he insisted, sitting back in his chair.
My elbows rested on the table, and I held my head in my hands. “Doesn’t matter. You know I played into it. Should’ve seen it in Shotgun, but I was so caught up in my own wants that I ignored it.”
My eyes lifted to see Abe rolling his. “Oh, shut the fuck up, John,” he snapped. “Last time I looked, you weren’t Theresa Caputo. How the fuck are you meant to know everything?”
“Tell that to Fender and his kids,” I retorted. “Or even better, tell it to Iris, who hours ago was sat with her ass on the asphalt, reliving all the shit she went through thirty years ago. The buck has to stop somewhere, Abe, and it stops with me.” I leaned forward and snarled, “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
He too leaned forward, raised his hand, and pointed a finger at me. “Don’t you dare.”
My head reared back. “Huh?”
“My Iris isn’t weak,” he went on. “My woman is stronger than me and you put together. Granted, she may have lost her shit earlier, but right now, she’s standing in our kitchen with our girl, baking up a storm for tomorrow ‘cause she knows we’ll have a full house of men, women, and kids who’ll need feeding.” He shook his head disbelievingly. “Do you not think we had a conversation thirty years ago about leaving this club?”
My mouth fell open.
“Yeah,” he continued. “When Iris was snatched, beaten, and raped so brutally that they took away her ability to have kids, do you not think I wanted to take her out of this place and start again somewhere safe where she could sleep easy and live a beautiful life?”
My throat burned.
“But we’re still here, and it was my wife’s decision,” he revealed. “My Iris knew the risks of staying. She knew what happened to her could happen again, not only to her but to any woman involved with a Speed Demon, but we stayed because it was where she wanted to be.” His eyes narrowed on me. “Now, do you think Fender and Ashley never talked about the dangers of being involved with the club?”
“I don’t know,” I rasped.
“I’ll bet you my house they did,” my friend muttered. “And I also bet you that Fender doesn’t blame you for killing his woman in cold blood. He blames who he should blame. The damned fucking Sinners and the traitor who fucked him over while simultaneously fucking us over— Shotgun .”
The heavy weight on my chest lifted slightly.
Abe spoke the truth, but it didn’t stop me from feeling responsible for the men in my club. That sense of responsibility extended to their wives and kids also. However, some things were out of my control, and that was the bugbear I had to work on.
“Thanks, Abe,” I muttered.
“You straightened your head out?” he asked.
“Not entirely,” I admitted. “But you’ve made me see the light.”
He grinned as he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. “Good.” His chin dipped. “You wanna come check on Reno with me?”
Nodding, I scraped my chair back, stood, and followed Abe to the door. “Thanks, brother,” I murmured, clasping his shoulder with my hand.
He craned his neck to address me and smirked. “Anytime, Prez.”
We walked into the corridor in silence, the strains of music and cheers from the bar filtering down the hallway toward us.
“What are they doin’?” I asked.
Abe barked a laugh. “What do ya think?”
A grin split my face.
In times of adversity, bikers had one rule.
Party.
We believed that life was for living, so we lived it as hard and fast as we could. The same exuberance spilled into other areas: love, work, and, of course, riding. Maybe it was the reason Stone men loved hard, fast, and forever. Stone men—and even women—were bikers at heart, and our dedication to living life to the extreme meant we loved to the extreme, too.
The sounds of the party got louder as we walked up the corridor until we hit the bar, and I stopped dead.
Three club girls danced topless on chairs, spurred on by the men who hollered and cat-called at them writhing in time to a Manic Street Preachers track the boys played in the clubhouse incessantly.
I grinned at the out-of-tune singing as a few of the boys at the bar joined in with the chorus, singing about how a girl stole the sun from their hearts. Laughter and shouts filled the air, along with the pumping bass of the song.
“This is what we fight for, Abe,” I muttered to the man at my side. “We fight for brotherhood and doing things our way. My daddy believed in a dream, a place where vets could go and find the same care and the same family they had in the military. We all came home fucked-up, but at least here, we can be fucked-up together. Maybe when I took charge, the dream changed, but the life we live means we answer to no one. We have to protect it at all costs, or else what do we do? End up on the streets ‘cause our minds can’t handle the rigidity of society’s rules like so many others have?”
Abe nudged his shoulder with mine. “We’re gonna win, John. We’ll beat them. Our club and way of life will prevail.”
“What if we lose more good men?” I asked, heading for the corridor, Abe in step beside me.
“Then they die knowing they fought for something real. They die knowing they’ve lived a good life with us, and their sacrifice will enable more vets, just like them, to find their home.”
We headed down the medical wing, and I turned to give Abe a tight-lipped smile.
He had a point. If I had to choose between giving up the life and club as I knew it or meeting the reaper, I’d gladly shake hands with the hooded fucker before he spirited me off to be reunited with my ma and Bandit.
We walked inside the examination room and, from there, hustled into the recovery area that held four beds, one of them taken up by Reno, who lay flat on his back while Elise took his blood pressure.
She looked up, spotted me and Abe, and smiled. “Hey. The patient’s doing better now Sophie’s patched him up.”
We walked to the side of the bed, both taking a chair as we studied Reno’s injuries.
The blood had been cleaned from his face to reveal a broken nose and both his eyes with black bruises underneath. His jaw had been wired because he’d been kicked in the face so viciously that his jaw was badly fractured. His arm was in a sling, and the fingers on his hand were strapped together because they’d been stamped on, and the bones crushed.
Leaning forward, I peered into Reno’s face to see his eyes were fuzzy with painkillers. He’d lost all color apart from the angry cuts and bruises that marred his olive skin. The guy was from Vegas, so he’d grown up in the sun and usually looked healthy and full of life.
But not today.
Today, Reno looked close to death.
“Hey, brother,” I scraped out. “You look like you’ve been in the wars.”
Tears filled his eyes, and he whispered, “I’m sorry. Ash. Maze. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, Reno. You were ambushed. You didn’t stand a chance. They were waiting for you around the next bend. Whatever happened, they would’ve attacked the cars. The way it happened meant that most of the women survived. Claire told us how you tried to protect them, and that’s why they beat you.”
“Shotgun?” he breathed.
“Taken care of,” Abe interjected. “They’re all taken care of.”
He closed his eyes and dipped his chin.
“He needs to sleep,” Leesy uttered quietly. “Good news is, tomorrow, he’ll probably feel stronger.”
“We’re heading out early,” I said huskily. “We’ll be gone a few hours. I want you to stay here with the girls, Cash, and the other men.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Why don’t you two go get some shut-eye?” Abe suggested quietly. “Iris is taking over Reno duty soon. I’ll wait here and keep her company.”
“Make sure you get a few hours, too,” I ordered gently. “You’re riding out with me.”
He nodded at the bed adjacent to where our brother slept. “I’ll grab some shut-eye on there if I have to. Don’t wanna leave Rissy alone.”
I stood and clapped him on the shoulder. “If she needs to go see Mitch, I’ll arrange it.”
He craned his neck to look up at me. “She just needs a few days to get it all straight in her head. My woman’s a fighter.”
I grinned, glancing at Elise. “Aren’t they all?”
Abe grinned back.
My eyes slid to my woman, and I watched her make notes on Reno’s chart before filling up the glass on the nightstand next to his bed with water. I smiled while she fussed over him, tucking in his sheets and plumping up his pillows.
“You ready?” I finally asked after she checked his temperature for a second time.
She looked up at me. “I don’t want to leave him.”
Abe jerked a thumb toward Reno, who was breathing heavily in sleep. “He’s dead to the fuckin’ world, woman. What d’ya think’s gonna happen? Iris will be here in a matter of minutes. What am I sitting here? Chopped liver? I can make a phone call if he chokes to death in his sleep.”
“Abe,” Leesy admonished. “Stop saying dead and death.” She sniffed haughtily. “Reno might hear you.”
He tipped his face up and looked to the heavens. “He’s asleep, Elise, not in a goddamned coma.”
She pursed her lips and sniffed again.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her to my side. “Say goodnight, Elise.”
She sighed. “Goodnight.”
“Nite,” Abe called out to us, watching as I opened the door and dragged her through it while my brother’s chuckles filtered after us into the hallway.
“You wanna get coffee with me?” I asked nervously.
She twisted her body and looked up at me. “No.”
My heart began to sink until she followed it up with, “I’d prefer a hot chocolate. If I drink coffee after five, I’ll be awake for half the night.”
“Right then,” I muttered, keeping hold of her hand and smiling down at her. “Hot chocolate it is.