17 Viking
Viking
The first night of surveillance had been a bust.
So had the second.
And the third.
Prez wanted to give me a break and send someone else out, but I respectfully told him not to. Well, it was more like I grunted out a no, but he knew I wasn’t being an asshole.
I was getting more and more pissed with each night that passed.
The hours ticked on. Tonight it was Rusty Nuts with me.
We were sitting in his truck with only the radio to fill the silence.
I wasn’t a big talker, and everyone knew that.
Neither was he, so that worked out. The Chaplain was more of a listener most of the time.
Besides, he was there at the clubhouse all the time, so he basically knew everything about what was goin’ on with me.
But the silence was damn near killin’ me because tonight I needed somethin’ more to keep my mind from drifting.
Every day, I’d gone back to the clubhouse right as the sun was coming up, only to find Grip and Ivy in bed together.
It didn’t piss me off. There wasn’t jealousy when it came to Grip.
But I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t say there was an ache in my chest at the sight.
No, definitely not jealousy, but maybe… longing.
So, to avoid some kinda spiraling, I headed to the house and slept in my bed, away from it all.
Yeah, Grip and I had a house closer to the edge of town.
I wasn’t sure why we bought it since we basically stayed at the clubhouse most of the time.
I also wasn’t sure why we hadn’t built one on the club’s property.
Probably because the family side of the compound was a little too close, and I meant that as in all the ol’ ladies and shit.
Always up in your business, even if you didn’t have an ol’ lady or kids.
Wasn’t tryin’ to be a dick. I simply liked my quiet time, and that was the basic reason for having a space outside the club’s fences.
Grip had agreed. Hell, it wasn’t like we were the only ones with property on the outside.
I should have learned my lesson the first night, and headed to the house automatically every night after, but it was like I had to know.
So I peeked in our room at the clubhouse every single time I got back in the morning.
Then I would leave, without either of them ever knowing I was there.
Stupid, yeah. I couldn’t even begin to say why I felt strange headin’ home without giving Grip a heads up where I’d be and how my night had gone.
Must have felt strange to him, too, since he always showed up at the house in the afternoon to make sure I was awake.
And, you know, check on me in a way that didn’t seem so obvious.
We didn’t talk about Ivy. Didn’t talk about why I was alone at the house. Or why I hadn’t at least sent him a message to let him know where I was.
That wasn’t a thing we needed to do. Most of the time, we just got what the other one was thinkin’.
It wasn’t that we were co-dependent, it was… something else. Something I’d never been able to explain, but still felt right deep inside my chest. It was good, so I didn’t ever question it.
“Useless,” I grunted.
“Yeah, doesn’t seem to be much happening.” Rusty shifted in the seat, eyes scanning.
“Wastin’ time,” I said with furrowed brows.
“Viking,” the Chaplain said, a hint of warning in his tone. “Prez wants us here, then this is where we stay.”
Another hour went by. The only sign of life was the occasional shifting on and off of lights behind frosted windows of their brick clubhouse building.
Then Drain Pipe emerged, looking shady as fuck as his head swiveled back and forth while he walked around the side of the building.
For a split second, my body was locked in place, frozen under Prez’s order to stick strictly to surveillance.
But… who was to say I couldn’t do surveillance on the move?
Grip would have agreed with me. And he’d be wearing that devious as fuck grin too. Which should have told me it was probably the wrong thing to do.
“Vike,” Rusty said, but I was already popping the door open and hoppin’ out.
My gut said go, and Grip taught me not to ever ignore my gut.
I heard Rusty sigh right before I softly closed the door, doing my best to make as little noise as possible. I knew he’d be right behind me.
It was too damn dark outside, but I managed to stalk through the edge of the tree line without makin’ a sound.
Not that the Foothills Palo Verde trees provided much cover, with the way they acted more like sad shrubs than anything.
Rusty wasn’t as smooth, but the occasional twig snap and scrape over the dry land wasn’t enough to turn heads.
Once I had eyes on Drain Pipe again, I stopped and watched, waiting for the right moment to keep tailin’ him.
I didn’t know where the fuck he was going.
We’d done some scouting the first night, so I knew there wasn’t anything around for at least ten miles.
Which made me think that, yeah, Jack was as good as dead, and drunk dipshit here was about to go piss on his grave.
My body buzzed with a hint of excitement.
This could be the proof that we needed. Yeah, it had been a boring few days, but if the club could have proof that Jack was dead and Drain Pipe was now leading the charge, Prez was gonna have no choice but to let us end this fucker for what he did to us.
Hell, I was tempted to end him right now, dump his body alongside the one that was potentially out there, and cover it up so no one would even know.
A growl worked its way up my throat. Sometimes it was like I was two people, the one who was ready to spill blood to keep my brothers safe and the one who fell in line like a good soldier and followed Prez’s orders.
Well, maybe fall in line wasn’t so accurate in this case, but most of the time it was.
All of a sudden, rusty hinges groaned, calling out a haunting scream. I crouched down, playing boulder, as Drain Pipe looked around suspiciously. Guessed I passed since he didn’t give the area a second glance before he moved again. And then his ass disappeared down a hole a few seconds later.
“Could be a trap,” Rusty said, crouch-walking up behind me.
“Could be,” I agreed.
“Could be more,” he added, no excitement in his tone.
“Could be,” I agreed again, only this time, my tone was teetering on the edge of hopeful.
“You’re not gonna let me call Prez, are you? Might be smart to get some brothers here for backup.”
“Thinkin’ we don’t have time for that,” I said, never taking my eyes off the spot where Drain Pipe had disappeared.
His deep sigh all but said, “Fine. Let’s go.” He might not be fully on board with my split-second idea, but he’d follow me into Hell if that was where this was goin’.
We both reached the area where we’d last seen that fucker, and seein’ as there wasn’t much else we could do, we peered down into a black pit.
I didn’t dare take out my phone to provide light.
Tilting my head, I listened hard. Then I heard the faint sound of shuffling feet, and then another unloved hinge made a plea for oil.
A second later, a light flickered to life, coming from somewhere off the side.
It lit the bottom up just enough to see where the black hole ended, somethin’ like fifty feet down.
This had to be some kind of bunker. Probably a good place to hide shit.
“I’m goin’ down,” I told Rusty Nuts. My tone said I was leaving it up to him whether he wanted to follow or not.
Either our shipment was down there or Jack was. Hell, it didn’t matter if both happened to be there, I just wanted to corner Drain Pipe and drag his ass back to my Prez.
Thoughts of quite literally doing that filtered through my head. I’d love to see him tied to the back of Rusty’s truck, bouncing and flopping with every bump and dip in the road. Just hearin’ his imaginary scream the whole way back to Lost Valley nearly brought a smile to my face.
“Fine,” Rusty said.
I reached out and pressed my fingertips against the wall. It felt like rough cinder blocks. My feet met step after step, twisting into a spiral as I headed for the bottom.
Rusty blew against the back of my neck, telling me without touching me that he’d reached the ground floor too.
Gun or knife?
I couldn’t decide. Gun was probably smarter, but the knife would be safer… for Drain Pipe, that was. I couldn’t accidentally-on-purpose shoot his ugly mug the moment he realized we were there.
At the bottom, I listened for a long minute.
A rough cough floated through the air, and then maybe a faint whimper.
I didn’t have the first clue what we were about to walk in on, but I knew I had to keep goin’.
Peeking around the door frame, I found a narrow room that appeared to be empty.
Where the hell was that slippery weasel?
At first glance, I saw a row of cells against the left wall. The bars were welded into frames that were bolted to the cinder block ceiling. It wasn’t a half-assed put together cell block.
I walked in, heading to check out the first cell in the row. My body became tight when I saw a figure in there.
“It’s Jack,” Rusty whispered into my ear.
It was him, alright, but as he glared up at me, I swear it was hard to picture him as the president of the Serpent Crowns. The man curled up on the dirty floor, looking equally as dirty, appeared closer to death than life.
I wanted to know what happened, but there wasn’t time for a story. We had to get him out and take him with us. There was no other option.
“Kill him,” Jack said. I had to strain my ears to hear it. His voice was raw. Broken. Nearly inhuman sounding.
“Viking,” Rusty rasped from off to my side. I turned my head to see he’d moved down to check out the rest of the cells. Whatever he was lookin’ at couldn’t have been good. The man’s face was as white as a sheet.
“He’s in the next room,” Jack said, his lips so dry and cracked they started bleeding.
With silent steps, I moved to where Rusty was crouched down in front of the second-to-last cell.
Fuck. If I wasn’t mad before, the sight I was takin’ in without a damn warning would have set me over the edge. Skyrocketed me into seein’ red, was more like it.
Rusty had his face through the bars, whispering something that I had a feeling I wasn’t meant to hear, even if I could make it out.
The female in there couldn’t have been a day over eighteen, if even that. That alone turned my stomach, but seein’ her in the state she was in with bruises all over her face and cuts on her naked body, well, I was ready to murder someone.
I couldn’t even speak as I turned around and headed for the next room. I didn’t care if I was taking care of this fucker alone or not. I was truthfully torn before wanting Rusty to have my back and needing him to stay with the girl.
The moment I rounded the corner, I saw Drain Pipe. He had his back to me, and wouldn’t you know, he was staring at our shipment. It was right there. All I had to do was drag it out of here along with the fuckbag standing between me and it.
“Them little bitches ain’t done nothin’,” he suddenly said, causing me to throw a sideways glance at the room. Yeah, there was no one else around. Fucker had gone crazy. “I took their shit and they ain’t even tried to come after me.”
I cleared my throat, holding back a smile as he turned around. All the color drained from his face the moment he laid eyes on me.
“Surprise,” I said flatly.
He seemed like he was frozen in shock for a minute.
So I took the opportunity to move in. As I reached for him, he snapped out of it, turning and trying to run.
He tripped over the packaged weed stack, going all the way down until he was sprawled out on the floor.
I was damn near close to chuckling. This couldn’t have gone any worse for him.
I moved in, ready to gut him or knock him out.
I wasn’t sure which one I was going to do yet.
He got a wild look in his eyes, then the dipshit started throwing packages of weed at me.
I’d been so caught off guard that I dropped my knife as I tried to catch the precious product.
That was when it all went to hell.
Before I knew it, Drain Pipe was on his feet with my knife in his hand. And that knife was currently coming down at me. I wasn’t thinkin’ as I brought my arm up to block the attack. I gritted my teeth as the blade ripped through my skin, stinging ever so sweetly.
The blood started pouring out instantly.
Well, shit.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down.