Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Tombstone
Slamming my fist into the punching bag, I let out my frustration.
I’m pissed at myself for letting this happen.
Sutton was taken, and I could’ve prevented it.
Shit, if it weren’t for Prez, I’d have already stormed the Triple Spirits MC clubhouse to get her back.
But Reaper talked some sense into me about not going off half-cocked into the unknown, blinded by my emotions.
This is the reason for the past forty-eight hours.
I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time in the club’s gym at the clubhouse.
I need to release my pent-up energy in the only way I can at the moment.
With the memory of Ronaele’s death swirling around Sutton being taken, I’m able to hold on by a thread.
Using the punching bag, I’m staying slightly grounded, imagining the equipment as the men I wish to slam my fist into.
If I didn’t stay in here for the most part, I know my brothers, they’d have no problem locking me down if needed, and that’s something I won’t allow to happen.
Sutton’s mine, and I’ve gotta get her back.
The game plan is to storm into their clubhouse and take back what doesn’t belong to them. Only we need to make sure we do it right, so my woman doesn’t get hurt.
“Tombstone.”
I tense at the sound of my Prez’s ol’ lady’s voice.
With both hands on either side of the punching bag, I glance over my shoulder at the woman standing just inside the gym.
None of this is Ivy’s fault, and from the distraught look on her face I’m getting, this is eating at her.
It’s because of her cunt of a mother, Sutton was taken, but it’s not on Ivy—she’s as much a victim in this as Sutton. “Yeah.”
“C-can I talk to you for a minute?” she asks, wringing her hands in front of her nervously.
With Ivy being pregnant, no one wants to upset or stress her out any more than she already is.
She’s family and became that the moment she started working at the garage before we knew she was Reaper's. Due to everything that had happened with her accident—I’ll never forget that day or how she looked inside her crushed Jeep—we’ve all become overly protective of her. Especially Reaper.
Hell, being overly protective is a given with us after the bullshit that’s happened in the past. Having lost both Reaper's mom, his older sister—my wife, and his youngest sister, who strangely enough ended up marrying my brother.
A pang of grief hits me at the thought of my little brother.
The day I lost him—we lost his ol’ lady.
We’re lucky, Emery, their daughter, is still alive.
Fuckin’ hell, I clench my hands against the bag having a hard time focusing at the moment.
I need to remember to check in on my niece.
I know she’s got her own shit going on, but I’m just glad she’s finally happy.
“Sure,” I say, clearing my throat. I drop my hands from the punching bag and spin toward Ivy to give her my full attention. “What is it?”
Ivy takes a step forward, and I spot Reaper coming in behind her. “I know it’s not any of my business, but if you don’t mind, can you explain what you mean by Sutton being yours?”
I should’ve known Ivy wouldn’t let it go about my claiming Sutton.
Sighing, I brace my hands on my hips, tilt my head slightly to the floor.
“Sutton and I’ve been fooling around for a while,” I shrug and take a steady breath—guilt setting in about the last time I saw her a few weeks ago. “But I ended things.”
“Why?” Ivy whispers, gaining my eyes once more at her simple one-word question.
“Because shit in my past proves I’m meant to be alone. I’m not Tombstone for shits and giggles. I got my name for who I am and who I’ll always be,” I state, looking past Ivy to meet my Prez’s gaze. He, of all people, will know what I’m talking about.
After losing Ronaele and giving Bethany away, I had turned to stone.
The only time I showed any sort of emotion, besides when seeing my daughter, was when Rissa and her son moved into my house.
I’d known Rissa for a while as she’s best friends with Daemon’s son’s mom.
She brought a small piece of my old self back, because during the time she lived under my protection, she made me face the truth on a lot of things.
One of them is, I can be happy with the way my life is and not have commitments to anyone.
It’s why when she finally got the nerve to go home to her man, I promised myself to be content with the way life is. No one would replace Ronaele. No one.
That is until I met a certain dirty blonde beauty who drew me in and did far more than Rissa ever did. Hell, she did more than Ronaele did, and I loved Ronaele, no matter how big or small it might’ve been. I had promised her for richer or poor. Sickness and in health. Death do us part.
But with Sutton, she’s consumed my thoughts and even my heart.
Not wanting to explain further, I stalk past Ivy and Reaper before heading into the clubhouse for a shower. It’ll be time to head out soon and get her back, and when I do, I’ll make things right.
Riding down the highway, I’m following behind Reaper and Angel. It’s taken us nearly two hours of speeding down these roads, and I’m glad we’re nearly there.
The game plan is to storm the place head-on, taking out any and all who stand in the way—the bitch included.
Reaper signals to slow, and I notice the reason why. There’s a van heading in our direction, and it ain’t an HVAC one.
I come to a stop with my brothers and pull out my gun. My gut’s telling me this van is carrying my woman. I can feel it. Our plan is supposed to take place hours before the time that should’ve been the meet between Ivy and her mother.
The van comes to a halt seeing as there’s no way to pass our bikes. It could also be due to all the guns aimed in their direction. The driver hops out along with the passenger. Both men take aim and pull their triggers, starting a gunfight they’re sure to lose.
My brothers and I swarm the van as the side and the back doors open. A pudgy man holds Sutton in front of him with a hand around her throat and a gun to her temple.
Fuck.
Sutton’s eyes are wide, but I give her credit. She’s not crying or freaking out. I ignore the fact they’ve ripped her shirt from her, and everyone and anyone can see what’s mine.
“Back the fuck up,” the pudgy fucker snarls, pressing the barrel hard against Sutton’s head.
“Don’t think so, ass-wipe,” I say, tightening my grip on the trigger, zeroing in on the man. Just because he’s holding a gun on Sutton doesn’t mean I won’t take the shot. It’s all about hand-eye coordination. “How about you let her go, and I’ll make your death quick and painless.”
“I die, she dies,” the man in front of me sneers, squeezing my woman’s throat tighter.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Reaper’s lined up for a side shot. Without pudgy-fuck-head seeing it, I jerk my head slightly, acknowledging his shot.
Reaper pulls the trigger at the same time I jump for Sutton. I snatch her in my arms and bring her front flush with mine. The asshole holding her is now on the ground with a hole in his head.
“I got you, Bambina,” I coo against her ear soothingly, keeping her turned away from all the carnage. Sutton’s been through enough. She doesn’t need to see dead bodies lying around. “It’s over now, baby. They can’t touch you anymore.”
“She, okay?” Angel asks, stepping toward me, his eyes locked on Sutton’s back.
I nod as I lift Sutton into my arms, “Let’s get you home,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple, right where she’d had a gun pointed to her head.
Standing next to my bike, I reach into the saddlebag and pull out one of my spare shirts I keep with me. “Hold your arms up, Bambina.”
Without meeting my eyes or even saying a word, Sutton does as I tell her. I slide the shirt over her head and slip her arms through. The material falls well past her thighs.
Turning toward my bike, I straddle it. Twisting, I hold my hand out to help her climb on behind me. My brothers all get on their own rides.
The moment Sutton’s behind me and her arms are around my waist, I whistle to Reaper, we’re ready. Time to get her back where she belongs.
The ride back takes us a while longer. None of us want anything to happen to Sutton.
The closer we get to the clubhouse, she starts to shake, but it’s when I park in front of the clubhouse that my beautiful woman goes into a full-blown panic attack.
I twist to find her staring at the building in fear.
Shit.
“Sutton,” Ivy cries, coming out of the clubhouse and starting in our direction.
Neither Sutton nor I move. She’s staring in horror, and I make a quick second decision. Glancing over to Reaper and Angel, I nod. “I’m taking her to my place.”
They acknowledge my words with a chin lift as I start my bike and kick up the kickstand. With Sutton holding on tightly, I hit the throttle and take off, pulling out of the parking lot and toward my house.
After everything she’s been through in the past two days, I’ll do anything it takes to make sure she feels safe.