14. Venom
14
VENOM
E very ounce of my being wants to chase after Lily, so I can explain the exact circumstances that led to me providing Sander with weed six years ago and why I hid Nadia’s involvement in his ensuing spiral into addiction, but I know that now isn’t the time. Brutus is outside, holding court with the boss of the Maddison clan and the father of the man he once secretly planned get to marry his daughter. The three of them are probably concocting a similar scheme now that they think they’ve stirred trouble between me and Lily.
“Righto,” I tell the Shamrocks in front of me. “It’s clear this was a fuckin’ ambush organised by our own prez… think it’s time we reined him in and headed back to the compound. The Maddison’s aren’t worth spittin’ on, let alone negotiatin’ with.”
“That’s a generous assessment,” Toker voices his disapproval. The other men nod their agreement with his harsh sentiment. “Seems to me that Brutus is spoilin’ for a bullet to the head. A man who sells out his daughter and his club ain’t fit to lead… or hold a patch.”
The members of the Maddison clan watch me with suspicion as I jerk my chin toward the open doors that Slash just led Lily through and the Shamrocks start to troop outside without protest. Hugh St. James, in particular, seems upset to be denied the fight he was trying to pick. I spare him one last look, dismissing him a moment later. He’s a non-entity in this battle. The man standing next to him, heir to the Maddison throne, possessor of hands stained by my woman’s blood, owner of ears that have basked in her pain, is the real threat.
And he knows it.
“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” Alex calls after me when I move to follow my club. “But it’s even sweeter knowing that you won’t be touching my angel again anytime soon.”
I swing around to face him.
Toker grabs me. “Don’t give him the satisfaction.”
“Yeah, Venom, be a good boy.”
“Fuck you.”
Alex grins, then he chuckles. Cocking his head to the side, he scans my face with devious eyes that I’d love to pluck out of his skull with a rusty spoon. “You’re not my type… now, offer me a tall blonde with curves that fit perfectly in my hands, and I’ll be apt to take you up on your offer.”
“Over my dead body.”
“That can be arranged,” Hugh interjects. He sights me up with his handgun. I brace, readying for the burning pain of a bullet wound. “I owe you more than one.”
“ Ah , yes… the garage torture,” Toker replies with a laugh. “Hard to believe that was only yesterday when so many other Maddison’s have been fucked up in the meantime.”
The reminder of our little excursion this morning is the final straw.
Poor Hugh. His little brother will be laid up for quite a while.
“Jesus Christ.” Alex pushes Hugh’s forearm down as he shoots at me. The bullet goes wide, pinging off the cement in front of us. Dust kicks up and the slug ricochets off the steel frame. “Grandfather said no gunfire.”
“I know what he said,” Hugh retorts through gritted teeth. “But he wasn’t the one hung out to dry by you.”
“ Oh, get over it.” Alex rolls his eyes. “They barely touched you.”
“They shot me. And, they shot out Noah’s knee.”
“Lily shot me twice .”
“My face is carved up. I’m going to need plastic surgery.”
Toker whistles low as we leave the bickering pair to their argument over who we fucked up more. The sunlight that greets us when we emerge from the galvanised steel structure is a shock. It feels like hours have passed, yet I can still see the dust down the road that tells me Lily and Slash have only just left. Ignoring Brutus, who is once again talking to Kristoff Maddison alone, I head for Cub. He’s sitting on his bike, tablet already retrieved from his pannier, as he works hard to find a way for me to prove that Brutus was involved in yesterday’s diversion at the clubhouse, Lily’s kidnapping, and Alex’s miracle escape from our clutches.
“You got anything?” I yell over the rumbling of his engine.
“Nothin’ concrete,” he tells me. He shows me a green dot on his screen. “But I’m pretty sure Fret’s in trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
I motion Toker to join us.
“What’s up, Venom?” he asks after he’s jogged over to us.
“Cub thinks Fret is missin’.”
“That’s not what I said.” Cub touches the screen to enlarge the image he showed me. “This is the location of the tracker I have in his phone. Because he’s related to Anna, I also have a backup hidden in the St. Christopher medallion he wears around his neck. The phone tracker was last active at the compound, but his second tracker is active in Bishops’ territory. More specifically, at their clubhouse. It’s been there since twenty minutes after his phone went offline... which was more than an hour ago.”
“You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.” I exchange a look with Cub as Toker elaborates on his reasoning why our tech officer is wrong. “Fret knows we’re on lockdown… plus he wouldn’t exchange a look with a Bishop, let alone hang out with them for an hour.”
“Again, you’re both missin’ the point.”
“Then enlighten us,” Toker demands. “’Cause I’ve about had enough cryptic bullshit for one day. I need a joint and the gun range or I’m liable to start usin’ heads for target practice.” He tilts his chin toward Brutus. “Startin’ with that rat bastard.”
“I don’t think Fret is missin’ and I don’t think he’s fraternisin’ with the Bishops. I think he was abducted by them.”
“Fuck.”
“Nope.” Toker groans and shakes his head at my curse. “ No fuckin’ way. Cub is wrong. Fret’s in the workshop or he’s asleep. Technology ain’t shit… it goes wrong all the time.”
My gut dismisses his justifications immediately.
My mind focuses on Lily. If her brother is in the hands of a rival MC, she’s going to blame herself. Whether it’s a coincidence or not, coming so close to Alex’s attack yesterday, it’ll feel like another failure on her behalf. We’re on lockdown to protect her, and her middle brother wouldn’t have even been at the compound if it wasn’t for that. Instead, he’d be at work, creating custom-built furniture commissioned by Western Australian and east coast elite alike or fiddling with his instruments at home.
First Sander, now Fret.
Another brother hurt by her brief entanglement with Alex.
“Fuck.”
This time, Toker scrubs his hands over his face. His gaze is bleak when he murmurs, “This ain’t some kind of radio frequency fuck up, is it? Fret’s really been on Bishops’ territory for an hour…”
“My trackers don’t work on radio frequencies, they’re part of the system I created when I hacked the local phone towers and coded a way to cross-reference that data with the live satellite imaging I’ve backdoored my way into.”
“ Gooble-de-gook .” Toker waves his hands as if he’s warding off magic instead of Cub’s technological explanation. “It’s all a bunch’a nonsense.”
“Still,” Cub tells him. “It’s our best weapon against sneak attacks. It saved Lily yesterday… it’ll save Fret today.”
“We need to leave,” I inform them both. “Without alertin’ Brutus… who knows how he’ll react after yesterday?”
“He’ll probably throw another bar stool at me.”
“Fuck.” I pat Cub’s shoulder. “Slash said it hit the wall.”
“No, that was where it ended up after it bounced off my back.”
“He won’t get away with it?—”
“I’m not worried about that,” Cub interjects. “Getting’ Fret back is my only objective, and that means I want Brutus kept in the dark until I’ve been able to confirm things.”
“Okay. I can give you that.”
“Appreciate it.”
Toker bounces the pads of his fingers against his lips. “Why don’t I cause a commotion, and you two can take off? It’ll give you a head start, plus, that way, you’ll be with Cherub and Slash when this is either confirmed or debunked.”
“What do you have in mind?”
The grin he gives me is filled with mischief. “A little dance monkey.”
“I like it.”
The gravel crunches under my boots as I head for my Harley. I jam my helmet on my head, forgoing my gloves as I hit the ignition and throw my leg over the machine. After exchanging a look with Toker, I give Cub a nod. He tucks his tablet in his side pannier and pulls his visor into place. I match his movement with my own. The madman with the gun fetish, one of my best friends, my ride or die, reaches into his panniers. He pulls a semi-automatic out, jams his finger on the trigger and fires round after round into the air. Taking that as my cue, I roll on the throttle and get the hell out of the yard.
Riding like a bat out of hell, Cub follows on his Harley.
Once we’re clear, I monitor my side mirror.
In it, Toker grabs a new magazine, pops out the spent cartridge and pushes the new one in place. This time, he aims the muzzle at the ground, and unloads a spray of bullets at the feet of the Maddison’s and our president.
And, exactly like he said they would, they dance.
It’s more an Irish jig than any of the conventional gyrations I’ve ever seen.
Arms held stiffly at their side, elbows bent as they try to keep their balance while they dodge the bullets and ricochets, their resemblance to monkeys is obvious.
“Dance monkey,” I crow, punching the air.
Pulling level with me, Cub whoops.
We ride like a pair of maniacs, half hopped up on adrenaline, the rest of our urgency fuelled by pure fear.
If something happens to Fret, the Mayberry siblings will crumble. The five of them are a tight unit. Lily might be the nucleus. The mother figure. However, Fret plays an integral part. He’s the ferocious protector. The calm in the storm. His temper is even until his brothers or sister are put at risk, and then he becomes a hurricane.
Whipped into a frenzy.
Wild and indiscriminate.
He’ll annihilate everything in his path.
It’s a characteristic we share.
One of the reasons why I trust him more than Sander.
As much as I worry about Fret, as always, my woman is at the centre of my thoughts.
How will she react to this latest problem?
Coming hot on the heels of Alex’s half-truths, the turbulence I can see building inside her is likely to peak. Her infinite need to martyr. Her boundless desire to help. Her enduring promise to her dead mother to save her brothers from pain. The hallmarks of the perfect storm swirl around Lily. A collapse of epic proportions.
If I can keep her ire focused on me, I’ll be happy.
If her aim becomes as wild as Toker’s, we’re in trouble.
In my heart of hearts, I still hold faith that I can protect her from herself.
My hope dies as soon as we pull through the main gates into the compound and Lily sprints out of the double doors with her phone clutched in her hand. Her face is white. Her eyes filled with terror. Slash emerges behind her, his expression etched with worry and dread.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, even though I’m ninety-nine percent sure I already know. “Talk to me, Lil.”
“Fret,” she whimpers.
Her knees buckle. The phone drops from her hand. My best friend reaches her first. Slash hooks his arms under Lily’s legs and lifts her upright. He easily swings her into a bridal hold, and she buries her face in the crook of his neck. I scoop the device from the concrete path and, after noticing that a call is connected, press it to my ear.
“What do you want?”
“The princess said she’ll exchange herself for her brother… and that’s what we want.”
Thanks to Cub’s heads-up, I recognise the voice on the other end of the call. “Fat fuckin’ chance of that, Wolf.” When Lily tries to protest, I jut my chin toward the main entrance, and Slash carries her inside. “You know this will only end one way—with the Bishops of Bloodshed wiped out.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” he replies easily. “We have an unexpected ally, and a bitch with a steady hand and a sharp scalpel. Whichever way this ends up, the kid’s still going to be in pieces.”
“If you touch him, I’ll personally dish out the exact same to you.”
“Guess I’m in trouble then.”
Wolf falls silent for a long moment before the sound of Fret’s muffled screaming invades my ears. He sobs, then I hear him shout, “Don’t let Anna give into them.”
The line falls silent as the call is ended.
I squeeze Lily’s phone. When the plastic creaks under the stress, I force myself to loosen my grip. The clear case catches my attention. It’s not the normal case. On her usual protective sheath, the blue flowers are actually carefully camouflaged cocks. It was a gift from the daughter of the UK VP of the Black Shamrocks MC, Indigo Michaelson, who’s another participant in the Moscato and Monet “art and alcohol” club the old ladies use to excuse their cock-filled pranks.
“Lily has a new number, doesn’t she?” I ask Cub. “Who has it?”
He frowns, taking his time to think through my request. “You, Slash, me, Nads, Brutus.”
“Not Fret?”
“No… we’re on lockdown so I didn’t bother to give it to him or anyone else. Haven’t really had time, to be honest.”
“You retrieved her old phone from Alex’s house last night?”
“Yeah. We found it with her handbag in the front study. I haven’t been able to scrub it, so I stored it in the box we use for church in case it’s compromised.”
My mind races with the implications.
Wolf knew to call Lily’s new phone number, not her old one.
A number that only five people have.
Brutus being one of them.
“You don’t think…” Cub trails off as his brain brings him to the same conclusion I’ve reached. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Shit, Brutus really is a rat… he’s sold Anna out to the Maddison’s. Used Fret for bait in case things went wrong.”
“Yeah, it certainly looks that fuckin’ way.”
My tech officer, the kid I fought tooth and nail to find the votes for after I nominated him for the newly created position, shakes his head with disbelief. He’s rattled, his shoulders droop under the weight of Brutus’ latest betrayal. He runs a hand through his messy hair and exhales noisily.
“I’ll keep lookin’… but I can’t promise anythin’. He’s had help coverin’ his digital footprint. I’ve found nothin’ more than some highway surveillance footage so far.”
“Just keep lookin’. I clamp a hand down on his shoulder. “If anyone can find what he’s up to, it’s you.”
“What about… Fret?” Cub’s voice fills with despair as he enquires after my plan to save his childhood friend. “How are you going to…”
“I have an idea,” I tell him. “And I’m goin’ straight to the source to put it into action.” The distinctive sound of Harleys entering our suburb fills the air. “The mood I’m in, he’ll either play ball or fuckin’ die.”
When Brutus leads the pack of Shamrocks that he double-crossed at the so-called meeting into the compound, I’m not sure if I’m looking forward to the inevitable showdown with my godfather or drowning under the weight of his endless deceit. Brutus, true to form, ends my dilemma as he comes barrelling over to me. He throws his helmet at my head. I catch it before it hits me. Running a sharp gaze over his familiar face, I decide that it’s a little bit from column B and a whole lot from column A.
“You little motherfucker. I want your patch.”
“Tell me, prez .” Disdain drips from his title as I ignore his demand. “How much does it cost to set up your own son and your little Cherub? Your heart or what’s left of ya soul?”
“What’re you dribblin’ about now?”
I wait until all the Shamrocks who witnessed Brutus in action at the shed to gather around before I loudly state, “Seems our esteemed president organised that bullshit meetin’ to achieve dual purposes.” My club brothers shift quietly, tensing up as they sense that I’m about to drop a bomb. “He didn’t only want to cause trouble between me and Cherub while also strengthenin’ his ties with the Maddison’s, he also needed most of us outta the compound so Fret could be kidnapped from our turf. With only a few of us here, it was easy for them to get to him.”
“That’s not true,” Brutus shouts. He points a sausage sized finger at me. “He fucked off without an escort. The Bishops didn’t get to him. The bull-headed little prick disgraced his cut when he all but handed himself to them on a plate.”
“Funny,” I remark with a smile that contains zero mirth. Scrubbing my palm over my chin, I muse out loud. “I don’t remember mentionin’ who took him. Tell us, Brutus, how do you know the fuckin’ Bishops have Fret?”
“It’s—I… there was…”
“Kristoff Maddison told us before we left the shed,” Joker, the step-grandson of one of the founding six offers when it becomes clear that Brutus isn’t able to supply a viable excuse. He moves over to our president’s side and pats his bicep. “Thinkin’ you needa rethink the tone you’re takin’ with our prez lately. Seems to me like you’re just lookin’ to find fault. Peddlin’ conspiracies. Castin’ aspersions. Gettin’ Toker to act the fool for you.”
“Kristoff offered his men,” Brutus announces to everyone. To me, it’s clear that he’s simply running with the story Joker just gave him, yet some of the Shamrocks nod like they believe his bullshit. “Since we’re on lockdown, I’m gonna call him, see what he can do for us.”
“So we can owe them a favour?” Toker interjects. “We don’t work with the bloody Irish mob.”
He pushes his way through the group to stand next to me.
Cub, who’s remained by my other side, leans close to murmur, “I think I’ve figured out who’s helpin’ him technologically.”
“Blind Freddie’s figured that out, Cub.” Toker’s response makes me snort.
Brutus glances my way, then he levels his nephew with a sneer. “We owe them nothin’… they owe me for yesterday.”
His strange choice of words goes over most of my brothers’ heads.
Not mine.
The Maddison clan owes him for yesterday….
Yeah, that seems about right.