3. Dieterick Dutch Knight
"Dutch, I need your help." Hearing Makari's voice caused my spine to stiffen.
"Makari?" I questioned, moving away from the pool table where Rico and Trigger were locked in a competitive game.
"I need your help," she blurted in a rush.
I inhaled and grabbed the bridge of my nose. "What are we talking about? My leather game is strong if you're looking for fashion tips."
Shit, she didn't laugh.
"It's serious, I wouldn't call if?—"
I cut her off. "I know you wouldn't."
Tunnel vision set in after Makari said she needed me. Part of me wanted to grab my crew and rescue her like a knight in shining leather. Still, the voice of reason reminded me that bringing Makari into the Sons of Shadows business was like throwing water on a grease fire.
"Give me thirty minutes and stay put," I demanded, ending the call.
I stood there staring at the phone like it would bite me. Fuck, I didn't need this kind of smoke, not now. With the Red Scorpions sniffing around, Makari was like the pin in a hot grenade.
I smirked at the situation. I always had a knack for finding trouble. Makari's voice lingered in my mind, stirring up emotions I thought I'd buried deeper than Jimmy Hoffa. I swear Makari had a way of getting under my skin when I knew I shouldn't have cared.
I'd barely made it back to the pool table when my second-in-command, Saint, slid up to me. His face was as hard as the pool stick that he rolled between his hands. "Word on the street is the Red Scorpions have their eyes on your girl."
I picked up a stick, and my grip tightened on it as he spoke. "She's not my girl," I groaned.
It was making sense why she called now. The Red Scorpions were all teeth and no grace. If they were after Makari…
"Shit, any idea why?" I questioned, running a hand down my face.
Saint shrugged. "They could be trying to get to you. Who knows? Either way, Makari is caught in the crosshairs."
I nodded, my brain kicking into overdrive.
"Dutch! We need to talk!" Rico's voice boomed across the room.
I looked to find the crew gathered. "Oh, so we're having an intervention? What's on your minds?" I asked, leaning against the pool table, attempting to keep my tone light.
Rico, our Sergeant-at-Arms, and all of his six-foot-five frame radiated disapproval. "We heard you talking to Makari, and you've been off your game ever since that call."
I raised an eyebrow. "Since when did my personal life become a topic of discussion for the committee?"
"Any time our president's head is anywhere but the game and affecting the club," Trigger answered.
They weren't wrong, but the implication stung. "That call was ten minutes ago, and last I checked, I've handled our business with no problems.
"Yeah, but for how long before this thing with Makari slaps us in the face?" Rico stated.
I squared my shoulders and met each of their glares. "I have this under control, but I appreciate your concern."
"Do you, though? Because from our point of view, you're about to lead us into a war over a woman," Saint pointed out.
Was I that transparent? What were they seeing that I wasn't?
"We look after our own, and Makari has a history with this club. Am I right?" I asked. "I promise the club will always come first, but right now, there is a situation that needs to be handled. Are you with me?"
"Dutch, we're with you. Just be careful, don't be blinded," Saint advised.
I clapped him on the back. "I got you, but we need to figure out how to handle these Red Scorpion fuckers."
As we huddled, I was worried that if I made the wrong move, everything I'd worked for would collapse around me. Still, for Makari, I was willing to take that risk.
I looked at my watch and headed out the door before anyone could change their mind. The weight of my Glock pressed on my lower back as I swung my leg over my Harley. I revved the engine and peeled out of the lot.
I rode through the city on high alert. Every shadow could be an ambush, but it wasn't my safety that had me wound tight. It was Makari's.
After a short drive uptown, I pulled up to her building and killed the engine. I entered the building and headed to her apartment. I rapped my knuckles on the partially open door. No answer. My stomach dropped when I entered the room, instinctively reaching for my piece.
Furniture was overturned along with broken glass. It definitely looked as if someone was trying to send a message other than a robbery. Robbers didn't go out of their way to break and move shit.
My mind raced, wondering if they'd taken her before I'd gotten here. I fucking swear if they lay a finger on her…
A muffled noise in the back snapped me back. I headed that way with my piece drawn, ready for whatever.
"Dutch?" Makari's shaky voice hit me like a throat punch as she appeared from behind an overturned cabinet.
"Jesus, Makari. You almost caught these bullets. Why didn't you lock the front door?"
She blew out air. "I don't know. With everything going on, I guess I forgot."
"Hey, Dutch," Tiya greeted, popping up from behind a dresser. "Thanks for coming. Girl, call me later. You know I got that food on the stove," she said, picking up the flour.
"Pack a bag," I ordered after Makari's friend left the room, leaving no room for discussion.
"I need help, Dutch. I didn't want to leave my home."
"Your safety has been compromised, and you're not safe here."
Makari crossed her arms with her stubborn ass. "Never mind then. I knew I shouldn't have called you."
"These niggas mean business. These aren't some punk kids, Makari."
Makari laughed, but it was weak. "What, and you're going to save me from the big bad scorpion?"
I bit back a rebuttal, knowing her sarcasm was always her shield to hide behind.
"Listen, I know you're independent as hell, but even the toughest people need backup. So, I need you to let me help. Please."
She was quiet for a moment, clearly conflicted. "Fine, I'm not a damsel in distress, and this is only temporary ," she emphasized.
I nodded. "Grab what you need because we gotta get moving," I ordered.
As she packed, I couldn't help but wonder how this could've gone wrong. Makari had always been a wildcard. I wondered if I was doing the right thing until I looked around at the trashed apartment, knowing it was right to push those thoughts aside.
"You know I had plans tonight with a pint of ice cream, my couch, and zero drama."
I smirked. "Shit, next time, schedule your situations for a better time?"
Makari looked at me. "It's not funny. My home is destroyed, and now I'm packing up like a refugee south of the border." Her voice broke on the last word, and I got a glimpse of the fear she was trying to hide.
"Hey, I know it's fucked up, but I'm going to keep you safe."
She looked at me, and I saw the woman I used to know, the one who trusted me with her heart. Then her walls went right back up.
"We both know your promises don't mean much!" she muttered, snatching up her bag with extra force.
Though her words stung, I couldn't argue. Our history was a battlefield, and we were tiptoeing around the mines. Our memories and connection remained no matter how hard we tried to kill them.
"Can we just agree to work together?" I asked.
Makari stared at me. "Okay, but don't think this changes anything."
I watched her sharp movements, and my eyes followed the curve of her neckline. Damn, I couldn't go there, not now. I reminded myself. "You good to go?" I asked.
"Yeah, as good as I can be in this shit show."
"Cool, we're going to head to the club first."
"Great, I get to sit around and watch the crew twiddle thumbs."
I smirked. "Not exactly. I need to make a few calls and find out why they're targeting you. It's also best for us to lay low."
As we moved to the door, I texted Rico to increase patrol around our territory and to call in a few favors from the local PD.
As Makari moved through her apartment, she grabbed a sketchbook. "I need my therapy."
"Don't forget your meds," I reminded her.
"I'm not a child." She shot me a glare.
"I'm just looking out for you. Stay close," I ordered as we entered the hallway. I scanned for potential threats as she locked her door.
Her body stiffened as my hand instinctively moved to the small of her back. In the parking lot, I guided her to my bike and handed Makari my helmet. Our eyes locked, and history between us filled the air.
"Ready?" I asked, swinging my leg over the bike. Makari climbed on behind me, her arms wrapped around my waist, and I felt her lay her head against my back.
I kicked the Harley into gear, and we peeled out, leaving behind the wreckage of Makari's life.