43. Chapter 43
Walking out of the clubhouse, I will my pain to the back of my mind as I try not to limp. Everyone’s on edge, not that I blame them. Three police cars are lined up outside our gate and I know for a fact that my truck and the mangled motorcycles are still out on the road for them to see. Normally, we would have already had them loaded on a flatbed and taken to the garage, but since we were trying to figure out if we should call the cops in or not, we’d left them there until the decision was made.
Uncle Sam is in the lead car and he gives me a head tilt, along with a sympathetic smile, as he walks back to his car, climbs in behind the wheel and shuts the door while he waits for Drae to open the gate. I know if he had his say, those two slimy assholes wouldn’t be with him, Brady, and Dixon. I’d never met them in person, but I’d heard plenty about them. And not just what Bear told the women.
All three cars pull up in front of the clubhouse, but none of us move from our spots on the steps or porch. Shyvers and Wilson get out of their car, and I bite back a scoff. They’re puffing up their chests and adjusting their gun belts, acting like they’re the top dog when they’re lower than dirt. Not to mention, neither of them would last if they tried to take one of us on, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. Both of them prefer to drink their coffee and eat their donuts rather than get out on the streets to help people. Their ample waistlines are proof of that.
Uncle Sam, Brady, and Dixon roll their eyes at their antics, all of them looking extremely pissed to have them here.
“Well, seems you boys are in a heap of trouble,” Shyvers sneers, as he glares daggers at Thor and Dragon. Wilson’s also glaring at them but, thankfully, stays silent. Seems like nothing’s changed then. Even though Thor and Dragon weren’t the ones that tossed them out, they’re the ones they are focusing the most on bringing down.
Thor cocks an eyebrow at him. “Now, what makes you say that, Billy ‘ol boy?”
Shivers’ eyes narrow on him. “It’s Officer Shyvers, Ryan . Show some respect for the law.”
More than one of us chuckles at that.
“We would show you respect, but you and your partner are crookeder than your busted nose. Just like half the fucking officers in town. Though, I could always break your nose again for you. Maybe then it’d heal straight,” Thor throws back at him which just has Shyvers’ face turning red in anger.
I grin at that. I’d witnessed a few of their fights, but they were all before Shyvers became a police officer. Shyvers never stood a chance. The dumbass thinks that just because he used to play football, not that he was that good—he was just your average joe in high school, and clings to his parents’ coattails that he’s still the big man on campus, so to speak.
“Maybe we should take you downtown for that threat, boy,” Wilson says, finally finding his balls enough to speak up, but I’m not surprised that he’s backing Shyvers. It’s always seemed like Wilson followed Shyvers and did whatever he said, but if he had half a brain cell, he should have known that Shyvers was just going to get his ass in trouble if he kept following him. Or dead.
Thor shrugs. “It wasn’t a threat; it was just a friendly offer.”
Uncle Sam steps forward and he pins Shyvers and Wilson with a hard look. “Shut the fuck up, you two. It’s no wonder you guys are on thin ice if you treat every citizen like this.”
Both of them look like they want to say something, but for once, they wisely keep their mouths shut. Uncle Sam turns toward us. “Now, you called in that you were attacked on the road, but that none of you know who it was. How about you back up and tell us what happened from the beginning?”
“Why don’t we go inside? It’s fucking December,” Wilson whines. “Unless you have something to hide?”
The way he says that last part has ice sliding down my spine, and it has nothing to do with the December chill. Judging by the looks on my brothers’ faces, I’m not the only one that feels that way.
“Sure, we need to show you the security footage, anyway.” Thor tilts his head toward the clubhouse, ignoring Shyvers and Wilson’s scoffs, and some of my brothers head inside. However, me and a few others wait to follow after them, wanting to keep an eye on these fuckers.
Once we’re all inside, my gaze flicks to the couch, and for a moment I panic until I see that Mary is now sitting at a table next to Levi. She must have asked someone to help her move while we were outside. I hope like fuck these assholes don’t focus on her, and I hope the others won’t draw attention to her.
“So,” Wilson starts, but Uncle Sam cuts him off with a hard glare.
“Start from the beginning, and tell us what happened,” Uncle Sam says as he pulls out a notepad and pen.
Wanting to keep the focus off Mary, I step forward. “We were on our way back to the clubhouse and shortly after turning onto this road, someone shot out one of the tires on my truck. A few moments later, another one was shot out before an explosion caused the truck to roll. Once we stopped rolling, I unbuckled and tried to help Mary out, but her buckle was stuck. By then, bullets were flying around, but thankfully, none had made it through the truck yet. As I was trying to cut the belt, someone busted in the front passenger window and tried to start pulling her out and another one hollered for him to hurry up, but they weren’t any of our guys.”
“How do you know?” Wilson asks, his eyes narrowed on me.
“Because I didn’t recognize their voices.” Turning back to Uncle Sam, I continue. “One of my brothers must have pulled him off because the next thing I know, Colt’s face fills the window and he helps me get Mary out. I told him to get her safely to the clubhouse, since I still needed to get out myself. He took off with her and after a few moments, I was able to crawl out, but because of a new wave of bullets, I had to stay ducked behind the truck for a bit. When the bullets died down some, I made my move and ran for the gate. As I did, I heard someone call out that they wanted my head, but thanks to Bear and Dragon, I got here with only minor injuries.”
“What all did that person say?” Brady asked and I motion to Smoke.
“How about we just show you—we already know who was speaking, and it was Stephan Hayes.”
“What makes you say that? It could have been any number of people,” Shyvers sneers and I’m about to speak up when someone else does.
“I know my soon-to-be ex-husband’s voice and it was him,” Mary tells him with an edge to her voice.
His and Wilson’s eyes light up and I move closer to her, not liking how they’re now solely focusing on her. Or I should say leering at her—both of their gazes are glued on her breasts.
I’m about to say something when Uncle Sam raises his hands, halting my words in my throat.
“Let’s watch the feed.”
Turning to Smoke, I give him a chin lift and he hits play.
You can clearly see the truck swerve both times the tires are shot out and all five of them flinch when the explosion happens and I frown when I notice it came from the street below. I didn’t drive over the bomb with the tires because you can clearly see the explosion happening from under the middle of the truck, so it must have been triggered by someone when we drove over it. I gotta give Smoke credit—I can’t even tell where he cut out the assholes after they tried to grab Mary. Through the dust, you can see Colt, and only Colt, approaching my truck. Thank fuck Smoke verified my suspicions on our way out front that the video only showed Colt approaching me. Since he was the one helping Mary get out, I figured he’d cut out the others.
Uncle Sam’s, Brady’s, and Dixon’s eyes harden when they hear Stephan’s voice come over the speakers loud and clear, but Shyvers and Wilson share a look that has me worried. What angle are they going to try now?
I get my answer when the video stops and Shyvers pins me with a hard, narrowed-eye look. “This seems like it could be retaliation. So, what exactly did you do, Luke? Cause where I’m sitting, it looks like you kidnapped Hayes’ wife and are keeping her and his children here, away from a loving husband and father.”
“Bull-fucking-shit,” Mary hisses out and uses a crutch that I hadn’t noticed was by her to stand up, pinning the assholes with a glare that rivals a few I’d seen Levi dole out in the past. “All Stephan cares about is that his punching bag, maid, and cook has left him. I took my kids because I was not going to leave them there with that abusive asshole. I’ve got the injuries, health records, and other proof to prove he was abusing me for years. All Patch did was find me after Stephan gave me the worst beating of my life, took me to the hospital and brought me here when I was discharged. I am not being held against my will. My kids and I are here because we choose to be,” she grinds out.
“And how did he find you? Was he casing your house?” Wilson asks, but his look seems to be more curious than before. Or maybe it’s just my imagination?
“I got a call from my son, telling me what Stephan had done to Mary,” I tell him and they both frown.
“Who’s your son?” Wilson asks.
“Asher.”
Shyvers scoffs. “Yeah right, kid’s last name is Hayes. Stephan is his father, not you.”
Stepping closer to him, I stop about a foot in front of him, and disappointment flashes through Shyvers eyes. What the fuck is that about?
“Mary was kidnapped two months before graduation when we were eighteen. She was pregnant with my son when she was kidnapped. Asher is my son, not Stephan’s.”
A growl reaches my ears and I step back, looking over my shoulder to see Bastion sitting by Mary who, thankfully, has sat back down.
“ Suchen (Search),” Mary commands Bastion and everyone freezes, though quite a few give her questioning looks.
How does she know Bastion’s commands? Wait, does she know German, too? How many languages does she know?
Bastion steps forward, a low growl still rumbling from him. He circles Wilson and barks once before sitting down. I notice a slight tremor in Wilson’s hands that he tries to hide by moving them to rest them on his belt. Then, after a few seconds, Bastion gets up and walks over to Shyvers, a low growl emanating from him again. After circling him, he sits and barks once, but doesn’t stop looking at Shyvers.
“ Bleiben (Stay),” Mary tells him. “Captain Morgan, I think Officer Shyvers needs to be searched. Possibly even Officer Wilson, but I’m going to guess by Bastion’s actions that he’s only getting a trace scent from Wilson.”