Chapter Seven #2
“You really expect us to believe that?” War came around beside me, but luckily, he kept his fists to himself. For now. “You fucking tore him apart!” he bellowed, making Omen cringe away. His trembling turned in to full on shakes.
“I swear, it wasn’t me. She did it.”
“Liar. You’re telling me Lily did that? Lily stabbed Connor?” War roared.
He nodded his head emphatically. His eyes were pleading.
What he didn’t realise was, that just made this whole thing worse.
Love my ass, he was throwing her under the bus right now.
Plus, if what he was saying was true, he’d stood back and let his bitch stab Connor and then fucking walked out and did nothing.
He’d left him there to die. He might as well have been the one wielding the knife.
“You done?” War asked me.
“I can help,” Omen said, noting the change in the atmosphere around him.
No idea why he thought his talking would change the outcome, but he believed he could.
He was wriggling against his bonds, the air had taken on a different feel.
We weren’t going to get anything else from him.
I stepped back and looked at War. I raised a brow, silently asking what he wanted to do with him.
He surprised me when he looked at Handlebar. “Get someone to bring a car around,” he kept his eyes on Omen. “We’re taking him back.”
Omen started freaking out then. He thought, like I had, that it ended here, but War had said all along he was going to make Omen suffer. Plus, it was easier to hold him at the clubhouse, in the Shed.
My phone rang as War laid into him, just a little bit, hitting him around the head and face until he finally did knock him out.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“Hudson, I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking.”
“No one was coming for him.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Think about it,” I walked out of the kitchen as Handlebar and War lifted Omen.
Casper opened the door for them, and they all left the house. I focused back on Ballistic.
“They know we’re gonna kill him for betraying us.
We’re effectively taking out their trash.
He doesn’t know anything about what they were planning, so they didn’t need to worry.
Waiting around for something to happen was pointless and wasting time.
I’m not prepared to do that when her life is in danger. ”
He was silent for a moment. “You went against your Prez.”
“I was with the VP.”
“Shit like that won’t cut it. He’s just as pissed at War.”
“Yeah well, no going back now. War and Felix are bringing him in.”
“We know. The intel you got is good, we’re looking for the van.”
“Anyone on their way here.”
“Fuck no,” Ballistic suddenly sounded amused. “I got the Shed all prepped.”
I laughed a little, which was pretty fucked up, given the circumstances. “So King’s gonna tear us a new one.”
“Probably. Maybe avoid him for a while, Christ knows no one is thinking straight right now,” he got the dig in but at least he was referring to King too.
He hung up and I closed my eyes. Good job I knew him well enough not to take offence. I followed the others out through the back of the house. Casper was hanging back waiting for me.
“Go let everyone know they can head home,” I said. “We got what we came for.”
I whistled to War, who paused and turned to look at me. When I didn’t say anything more, he said something to Handlebar, giving Omen a filthy look, but left him and Felix at the car where they were loading Omen into the trunk. Where the fucker belonged.
“What?” War snapped impatiently.
“Ballistic has the Shed prepped. I know you’re raring to go but King is on the warpath. Ballistic suggested we stay away for a bit.”
“Are you kidding?”
“If Ballistic suggested it, then no, I’m not.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“Well I am, and you damn well should be too,” I added when War scoffed at me.
“Ballistic and everyone else in the club knows Omen is yours. No one is gonna take that away from you, but we shit all over your dad’s plan.
And if I’m being honest, I need a bit of time away from everyone,” I closed my eyes and scrubbed my hand down my face.
I didn’t want to admit this to anyone. But if there was anyone I could say it to, anyone who would understand, it was War.
“I need to clear my head, to try and figure things out. I know everyone is trying to help but…it’s too much and I can’t think straight.” I looked up at my best friend, hating to say it but I was going to lose my mind. “I’m drowning, man.”
War stared at me, the tension in his face slackened as he realised what I was saying.
“We’re ready,” Handlebar called over.
War kept his steady gaze on mine, his eyes switching from one to the other as he looked at me. He held up a hand to Handlebar but kept his eyes on mine. “Take him back. They’re ready for him at the Shed.”
Once they were in the car and driving away, War put his hands in his jeans pocket and looked up and down the street.
“Where are we going?” he asked me.
He sounded apprehensive and I figured he thought I was going to suggest Connor’s place but he needed space too and being in Connor’s wasn’t going to help.
“I know a place,” I said and started walking back to our bikes.
War didn’t question me, he just followed.
He didn’t say anything when I pulled over at a convenience store and went inside to buy beers.
But I did notice how he became aware of our surroundings, of the familiar street we were on.
It was only when we pulled into a driveway and came to a stop that he gave me a look.
He took his helmet off, looking up at the house then back to me.
“You didn’t sell this place?”
“I thought about it, but it’s a good investment,” I sat on my bike and looked at my childhood home. “I’ve made thousands off it over the last six years.”
He gave me a speculative look then glanced back at the house.
When my dad went to rehab just before he got into the drunk driving accident, Ballistic and King arranged for our old house to be completely remodelled. The hope had been my dad would come home, sober and wanting to have a relationship with me, and then we’d live here, happily ever after.
I almost laughed at the thought of it. I knew that wouldn’t happen, dad hated himself too much to be a father to me, but I thought we could build some kind of relationship.
Then he got out of rehab, killed that woman and got a thirty-three-year prison sentence.
He’s never appealed, never tried to contact me, but he’s under the Devil’s Chaos protection in there, no harm will ever come to him.
He was living his own personal hell in there, being unable to drink his demons away.
The old house had a new roof, porch and stairs, all brand-new windows and siding.
The interior was like a show home, which came in handy when I put it on the rental market.
A family had been living here for the past three years but moved out of state for work and I hadn’t got around to re-letting the place. No one would think to look for us here.
War followed me up to the house and I let us inside, disarming the security system. War whistled low as he looked around.
“Don’t remember it looking like this when we were kids.”
“Cos it didn’t.”
He gave the artwork on the wall a side eyed look. “It’s weird.”
I tossed my keys on the table in the hall. It was the same place I’d always left my keys, just a different table. I headed to the kitchen and put the beers in the fridge, pulling two out of the box. Opening them both, I handed one to War.
He leaned against the kitchen counter and looked out of the back window. The yard had been remodeled and paved over in the last year or so. It was easier to maintain so I’d been happy to do it for the tenants.
He was right, it was weird. Like, it was familiar but completely wrong at the same time. We headed into the living room and got comfortable on the grey sofas in front of the TV.
“You never thought about living here, instead of the house on the compound?”
I gave him a look that was all too easy for him to read. He knew better than most the nightmare situation I lived through in this house, given the amount of times I ran to his house when my dad lost it. He mock slapped his forehead and gave me a crooked grin, letting me know he was being an idiot.
“Besides, it’s a nice neighborhood now, lots of families, I’d just muck up the place.”
“Damn straight,” he raised his beer then lowered it so it was between his knees and stared at it for a while. “What are we going to do?”
I shook my head, I didn’t know. We needed to do something, as soon as possible, before I lost my mind. “Taking the Omen matter into our own hands seemed to get results.”
“So you’re suggesting we carry on like that? We do it our way?”
“Or alongside theirs,” I suggested.
He rubbed a hand over his lips. “We let them track down the information off Omen, question the Kingsmen we have, follow those leads and we run something parallel, something King wouldn’t particularly agree with? That’s a bad idea.”
“The worst.”
War’s lip twitched, already knowing we were going to do it. Despite not wanting to go against our President, we were talking about Waverley. We needed to find her and bring her home safe.
“So where do we start?” he asked, his resolve hardening.
It may backfire, we may get into a lot of shit with King and the other members of the council. We might not even be able to come up with anything, but we had to try. And neither of us cared what could happen to us for doing it.
She was half of both of our hearts, whether I wanted to admit that or not. She was priority number one. We could answer for any so-called transgressions once they were done. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission in situations such as this.