Chapter 21 Silver #2
“Nah, the windows were tinted,” Cash answers. He holds out his forearms to show off his road rash from the attack. His is almost as bad as Mace’s. “They got us pretty damn good. They were clearly waiting for us. Don’t know how they knew where we’d be unless they’ve been tailing us.”
Tito gives a conciliatory nod, brows creased. “That does make more sense.”
“If they’ve been keeping tabs on us, I won’t stand for that,” Cash says. “Korine did mention she noticed a car parked outside our house the other night. I’ve got her and Sunny to think about.”
I bite down hard, teeth aching with pressure. “We’ve all got our families to think about. I saw a car outside my house a couple weeks back. Right after the confrontation with Manuel Pena. Figured it was just me they were threatening.”
“This is just like Tom!” Mace explodes, standing up from the barstool.
Sydney tries to push him back down so she can finish bandaging his shoulder, but he’s too fired up.
“He got us into this shit starting beef for no reason but his ego! All his bullshit power plays are about reliving his glory days!”
Sydney sighs and sets down the bloodied cotton rounds she was using to clean up her husband.
“What’s the use getting angry about it right now?
I saw Tom leave about an hour ago. He was dressed nice—for Tom anyway—and looked like he was heading out for the night.
He probably won’t be back until morning. ”
“So much for being our brilliant leader who’s going to restore the club to greatness,” Cash mutters, arms crossed.
“Our brilliant fucking leader who leads us straight into a dumpster fire while he’s off somewhere getting his dick wet and pretending everything’s fine!” Mace yells. “I’m done with this. He’s gotta be stopped or I’m through.”
“Tom’s gained a lot of support though,” Eddie points out fairly. A fact none of us have wanted to admit. “My nephew has thrown his support behind what Tom’s selling. Others too.”
“Sí, es verdad,” Tito agrees reluctantly. “I’ve noticed the same thing with others like Mudd and Johnny and Bush. They all seem completely on board with Tom’s leadership decisions, like they think the old days are coming back and we’ll all be rich.”
“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” I say plainly. “If Tom wants to war with the Penas—and everybody else—that’s his prerogative. But it ain’t ours, and president or not, this club is still majority rules.”
My phone’s started buzzing in my jeans pocket. I ignore it for a few seconds ’til it keeps going, buzzing insistently against my thigh.
When I pull it out, Solana’s name lights up the screen. I quickly silence the call, sending it straight to voice mail.
But it almost immediately starts buzzing again, her name returning to the screen. I’m trying to cup my hand over it to disguise the name, turning slightly away from the others.
Eddie raises a brow as he watches me fumble with the phone. “Might wanna pick it up, my man. Seems like it’s important.”
“Uh, yeah. Right. Give me a second. Probably just Rachel calling about the kids.”
The back of my neck burns with guilt as I think about how an hour ago my face was buried between his niece’s thighs, flicking patterns onto her little throbbing clit as she ground her hips back against me.
If Eddie knew what we were up to… I don’t have a doubt in my mind he’d see red.
I move toward the other side of the barroom for privacy, answering on the third ring while affecting an annoyed tone. “Hey, Rachel, this really isn’t a good time for—”
“There’s a head on your doorstep!” Solana blurts out in a panic. “A fucking severed head, Silver—Spencer’s head! I heard a car in the drive and rushed over ‘cuz I thought it was you and then—”
“Stay inside,” I command, clenching my phone against my ear. “Make sure all the windows and doors are locked. Don’t open for anybody, you understand? I don’t care who they say they are.”
“Silver, who would do this? What’s going on?!”
“Don’t call anyone and don’t touch anything. I’m coming right now.”
I hang up, suddenly pulsing with ten times the adrenaline I arrived with. My thoughts narrow to one subject and one subject only—the severed head Solana’s told me has arrived on my doorstep.
…which means whoever left it knew I was gone. They knew she would find it.
And they know about my conflict with Spencer in the first place.
I turn to the others who have carried on their conversations among themselves and announce I’ve got to go.
“An emergency, hermano?” Tito asks. “Are Rachel and the kids okay?”
My gaze pans from him to Mace, Sydney and the others. Then I give a tight nod, my expression ambiguous.
“Uh, yeah… yeah just something spooked her. I’m gonna go check it out. I’ll address this situation with the Penas tomorrow with Tom. Everybody go home and get some rest.”
I don’t wait for their responses before turning and striding out of the saloon as quickly as I entered.
I tear into my driveway, cutting the rumbling engine and sliding off the bike seat. I don’t even bother taking off my riding gloves as I stride toward the front step and see exactly what Solana had been talking about.
It’s almost so jarring it makes me question if I’m on the set of some horror movie.
But it’s there under the dim light of the doorstep—Spencer Medlock’s decapitated head dropped off like some morbid package delivery.
His eyes are still open, his skin waxy and pale, telling me he’s been dead for a while. He’s probably been kept in some sorta temperature-controlled storage, like a freezer of some kind, which explains the lack of wet, fresh blood.
Only his vertebrae dangles from the severed throat like a cord.
I wish I could say it’s a replica. It’s some Hollywood magic in Pulsboro, Texas, but it’s very real. It’s really Spencer’s severed head that’s been frozen and delivered to my doorstep as some ominous message.
I’m in the middle of unlocking the door when it flies open first. Solana tosses her arms around me, her whole body weight slamming into me. I catch her, arms instinctively wrapping around her back and holding her against me, stroking her hair and shushing her.
“It’s alright,” I murmur against her locs. I press a quick kiss to her temple. “You’re safe. But I’ve got to… take care of this. Fast.”
Before she has a chance to utter a word, I’ve let her go and gone straight to my kitchen, wrenching open the cabinet under the sink and grabbing the best options that I have on hand—rubber gloves and garbage bags.
Solana can’t bear to watch as I return to the doorstep and swiftly slide Spencer’s head into the bag, knotting it at the top.
I look up and scan my neighborhood street. As far as I can tell, nobody’s seen anything. I live on a dead-end street and half my neighbors are over the age of seventy with bedtimes at seven p.m.
With any luck, nobody saw shit. I have to believe that’s the case; somebody would’ve called the police if they noticed a severed head on my doorstep.
I take Spencer to my truck where I’ll soon be driving out to the middle of nowhere and burying it along with his recently deceased pal, Kel.
When I do make it back inside, Solana’s still shaken. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her brows are drawn close. She almost looks like she might be sick.
I can’t say I blame her—decapitated heads aren’t a pretty sight. Certainly not for regular civilians like her who aren’t in the outlaw lifestyle.
First things first, I wash my hands in the sink with water and plenty of soap. The rubber gloves were covering my hands, but there’s still something about touching a severed head that makes them feel unclean.
“Hey,” I say, returning to Solana. I grip her by the chin, tilting her face up toward mine. “You’re safe. I’m here and nobody’s gonna hurt you.”
She murmurs, “Thank you. I was just… that was the last thing I expected.”
“You and me both.”
“Who could’ve done it? Who would’ve… and why…?”
“Not sure. But I’m gonna find out.”
Even as I tell Solana I don’t know, I’ve got a hunch.
My mind churns through the implications. The Penas have to be behind this as retaliation for our hit on their supply truck, but something about this doesn’t add up.
How would they even know about Spencer unless they’ve been watching me for longer than I thought? Why kill somebody I’d already beaten half to death, who was clearly my enemy rather than my ally?
His death isn’t something I’m gonna mourn.
If they were really trying to hurt me, they would’ve gone after Solana or Rachel and the kids—they would’ve hurt somebody I care about.
Instead, they eliminated somebody that was practically my enemy.
The logic doesn’t track. If the Penas knew I’d threatened Spencer, why would they do me the favor of eliminating him? What message are they trying to send by killing him and leaving him on my doorstep like some twisted gift?
I pull out my phone and dial Tom’s number, stepping into another room. Originally I’d told the others we’d speak about this tomorrow, but in light of a fucking severed head on my doorstep, the situation’s more urgent than we thought.
Where the hell could he have disappeared off to tonight?
The call goes straight to voicemail without even ringing, which means he’s either turned his phone off or he’s somewhere with no signal.
Typical Tom, always available when he wants to be but nowhere to be found during an actual crisis.
“Silver?” Solana whispers.
I follow the sound of her voice back to the entryway. She’s peeking through the curtains of the front window, obviously still shaken.
“There’s a car out there. It wasn’t there when you came home. The lights are on and it looks like the engine’s running. I… I think they’re watching the house.”
“Get away from the window!” I order, pulling her back by the shoulders. I stride over to the secret gun safe I keep in the living room and grab my Glock, checking the clip and chambering a round before storming outside.
The car sits about two houses down, a similar dark sedan to the one watching me weeks ago. The engine’s idling, steam rising from the exhaust pipe in the cool night air.
The windows are tinted, but I can make out the vague silhouette of at least one person inside.
I start toward them, making it clear I’m armed. I’m ready to blow their heads off if necessary.
“Hey!” I yell. “You think this is some joke? Show yourselves!”
As I get closer to the vehicle, the engine suddenly revs. The car lurches forward, tires squealing as it accelerates away from the curb.
I break into a full run, rushing into the middle of the empty residential street as the car speeds off.
“Come back here, you fucking cowards!” I shout at the disappearing taillights. “I’ll find you, whoever you are, and you’re about to see who gets the last laugh!”
The red lights disappear around the corner, fading into the dark.