Chapter One.
July 2022
Kendara
I was going to kidnap and marry this man, I decided as I sang loudly to my favourite country singer. Tall, dark, delicious, and filling his jeans so very well, he desperately needed a licking from me. He was my ideal guy. There was nothing better than denim clinging to strong muscled legs and a pert ass you could bite. As the song reached the chorus, my head began bouncing with the music.
Mid chorus, I caught sight of a white truck drop in close to my bumper. I checked and made sure we had a decent gap, but my singing stopped as the vehicle sped up behind me. I despised tailgaters, and this appeared to be one of them. A guy who thought he owned the damn road, and yeah, it was a male, not me being prejudiced. I spotted his shoulders and ball cap. No woman, unless she lifted weights, had a chest that wide.
I tapped my brakes to give him a warning to back off, but he came even closer. A frown crossed my face. This guy was seriously pissing me off and ruining my buzz. Today had been a good day. I won a case for my client against her ex-husband for domestic violence, and the judge had sentenced him to ten years. It had been a major relief for her and her children.
To celebrate, I’d taken them out for a meal and was now driving home. I lived close to Founders Park in Rapid City, but my client’s home was near Spearfish, so I had kindly dropped her off.
It was early afternoon, which meant traffic was light on the I90, so there was no reason for this idiot to be a prick. I was in the correct lane for my speed, so he could either overtake or be an asshole while I slowed down a little. I could be a bastard.
The truck sped up, got close to my bumper, and backed off again. Stubbornly, refusing to be flustered, I turned the music up and began singing. But I monitored the jerk, which is why I was probably still alive a few minutes later.
Without warning, the vehicle hit me hard, and as I struggled to control the wheel with a gasp, he pulled alongside. He shot me a grin and then rammed his truck into my side.
I’d already braked, so he didn’t get the impact he wanted. He slammed into the front of my car and pushed me sideways, but I fell behind him and began braking hard.
The truck also braked and levelled up beside me once more.
He slammed into me again, and I struggled to keep on the road when a loud bang sounded.
My car spun in a circle before hitting a ridge and flying down an embankment, rolling as it did so. I remembered screaming and then… nothing.
Rooster
Rooster already called in to the police when he saw the truck hit the black BMW heading towards him. The BMW sped up and then slowed as the truck pulled alongside. Horrified, Rooster watched as the vehicle braked and smashed into the car again, sending it spinning across the lanes into his. Luckily, Rooster had reduced his speed.
“He’s hit the BMW twice,” Rooster informed the 911 operator.
“Is the vehicle still moving?” she asked.
“Yes, wait! Damn, he’s struck her a third time.” Rooster gasped as he slowed his bike to a crawl. The BMW flipped, and the truck sped off. Rooster tried grabbing a quick glance as the truck passed him, but all he had was a vague image of a man.
“The BMW’s been forced down the embankment, and it’s rolled. Stopping to render aid now,” Rooter said.
Not bothering to chase the motor, Rooster pulled up where the car had slid down the steep slope and lay on its side, wobbling back and forth. Rooster threw his leg over the Harley and carefully made his way to the scene of the accident.
A strong smell of gasoline assaulted his nose, and he heard it dripping on the grass. One spark and it would go up.
“Need an ambulance and fire as there’s gas everywhere. I can see the victim, she’s unconscious, and there’s blood,” Rooster said.
He reached the car and saw a woman hanging limply from her seatbelt. He thanked God she’d worn it. Rooster stretched his injured leg out and crouched down to peer inside. He frowned as he swept her hair back from her face. She looked familiar, causing Rooster to frown.
Shrugging his feelings aside, Rooster checked her over, keeping the operator informed. Rooster’s main worry was the gasoline. He knew anything could start the motor burning, and the driver remained unconscious.
“I am going to remove her. The risk of a fire is too high,” Rooster spoke calmly.
“Do not, sir. An ambulance will be there within seven minutes,” the woman replied.
“How long for the fire engine?”
“Nine minutes out.”
“This’ll be in flames by then. I’m removing her now,” Rooster said and put the phone down. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a flick knife.
“Lady, you awake?” Rooster asked as he saw her head twitch.
“Ummmm?” she murmured.
“Hey, come on, wake up. You’ve been in an accident, and I need you to tell me where it hurts,” Rooster ordered louder.
“I’ll kiss your ouchies better once I’ve convinced you to be my husband,” the woman slurred.
Rooster blinked, and a smile crossed his face despite of the urgency of the situation. The injured lady sang the chorus of a well-known country song before blinking her eyes open.
“Wow, I’ve gone to heaven,” she murmured, staring at Rooster.
“Not yet, but we need to get you out of the car before it catches fire. Does your neck hurt? Or your back?”
“You can set me on fire anytime, baby,” she said, her eyes closing.
Deciding she had a knock on the head, Rooster concentrated on checking her neck again before he cut the seatbelt. She dropped into his arms, and he gently pulled her out.
Rooster did not get far. Her foot was jammed in the footwell, and he laid her down as a whoosh sounded from the engine. Rooster didn’t need to check to guess the car had caught fire.
Unhurriedly, he worked her foot free as the woman blinked and cried out.
“You’re on fire!”
“Not quite, lady, but I will be if you don’t stop wriggling… there!” Rooster grunted.
Her foot looked twisted, and he was sure it was broken, but she was alive.
Rooster stumbled to his feet, experiencing a pinch in his prosthetic, but he ignored it and slid his hands under her armpits and began hauling her away. If he’d been more confident, Rooster might have carried her, but the slope was steep and slippery, and he wasn’t sure how his false leg would hold up. Instead, Rooster worked his way up carefully, pulling her while keeping an eye on the burning car.
“God, you’re so hot; you are making me burn,” the woman drawled and sent him a sloppy smile.
“Yeah, be nice to the cripple day,” Rooster muttered.
The poor woman didn’t know it, but her words stung. If she saw his amputation, no doubt she would do one of three things, a pity fuck, disgust, or she’d be kind and make excuses to leave. Those had all happened to him. A fourth, which others had spoken about at his physiotherapy clinic, Rooster hadn’t encountered yet. Those with a kink for amputees. Rooster seriously hoped he’d never come across one of those.
“Cripple? Ain’t no cripple honey, you’re all man,” she slurred, and Rooster looked down at her worriedly.
They’d reached the top of the embankment and were safely on the road, but her voice was getting faint. Now that she was safe, he checked her head wound. It was deep and pouring blood freely.
An explosion behind him made him drag her into his body, and he covered her with his. For a moment, his mind blanked, and he was back in the hell which had cost him his leg, dignity, and life. Rooster tensed as he waited for burning chunks of concrete to hit the ground around him, and he clutched the figure in his arms tightly to his chest.
“Stay with me, Rooster,” the woman said, and her words shocked Rooster enough that he came out of his nightmare.
To his surprise, her eyes looked remarkably clear for a brief moment. “Call Mac at Rage; tell him I’ve had an accident,” she demanded before she fell unconscious.
“Mac?” Rooster exclaimed. “Who the hell are you?”
Rooster peered at her car, which was in flames, and cursed. Her purse was in there with her identification.
An ambulance wailed its way up the road to him, the smoke no doubt making them speed up.
Rooster coughed. The acrid taste of burning metal filled his mouth, and he choked on it.
The memories fought to take over, and Rooster shoved them away desperately, concentrating on the woman in his arms. One who had links to Rage MC.
◆◆◆
Rooster looked up as Mac dashed into the hospital. He spotted Rooster and hurried over .
“A black BMW with an African American woman in?” Mac demanded, stumbling over his words in his haste to get them out.
“Yeah, she said to call you, but you didn’t answer. Drake took the message,” Rooster explained.
“Shit! That’s Kenny,” Mac replied and raced over to the desk.
Who the hell was Kenny? Rooster frowned. Mac was acting like this Kenny was important to him. He was certain Mac was with Casey, so who was this mystery girl? Rooster doubted Mac was cheating on Casey.
Rooster pushed the puzzle aside. Right now, Mac was receiving the dirty eye from the nurse he badgered.
“Bud, calm down,” Rooster grumbled, approaching the irate man. He could see Mac getting kicked out if he continued.
Mac turned to him, looking slightly deranged.
“I need to know how Kenny is? I can’t tell Casey I’ve no information, and I’m Kenny’s next of kin,” Mac said with a glower.
“What’s the issue?” Rooster questioned the nurse.
“We aren’t sure if the patient is who he says she is. There’s no identification,” the woman replied.
“And Nurse Ratched here won’t allow me to identify Kenny,” Mac spat.
Rooster’s lips twitched. He shouldn’t be amused but was.
“So let Mac confirm if the patient is Kenny?” Rooster suggested, still with no idea who Kenny was .
“It’s against policy,” Nurse Ratched answered primly.
“Darlin’, you see my cut and who I am. Do I have to call my contacts to go over your head and make your life a misery? Or can we give him a sneak and let him see if this is his Kenny? Because if it is, then we have an ID and her next of kin present,” Rooster said calmly.
The nurse’s eyes narrowed, but a doctor close by nodded.
“That’s a good idea; we need to ID the woman. She needs an operation, and we need her next of kin before we do so. Come with me,” he spoke to Mac, ignoring the nurse now giving all three of us the dead eye.
“I can’t imagine her to be anyone else, considering she told me to call Mac,” Rooster added with a dig at the nurse and retook his chair. His bad leg stretched out in front of him. Rooster was rubbing his knee; it didn’t hurt for once but felt uncomfortable. Today had been a totally different exercise than what he was used to.
The nurse kept sending him dire looks, but Rooster ignored them. When Mac didn’t return within five minutes, Rooster surmised that this had been Mac’s Kenny. He looked up as the doors blew open, and Casey flew in, carrying Blue.
“Rooster!” she called on seeing him.
“I got a call from Drake. He said Kenny’s had an accident?”
“Who the hell is she?” Rooster demanded, his curiosity riding him.
“Kendara, Blue’s Aunt,” Casey answered with a warning look.
Rooster immediately realised who Kendara was. As far as Mac and Casey were concerned, she was a damn hero. Kendara had been friends with Lucy, Blue’s biological mom, who’d been trafficked and escaped.
Lucy had been pregnant and given birth to Blue, who Kendara had smuggled to Rage. Mac and Lucy had once been involved, and although Blue wasn’t Mac’s child, she guessed correctly that Mac would take care of him.
Mac loved Blue like his own, and then Casey had come along, and Blue had a doting mom and dad. Kendara had disappeared, fearing the man who’d bought Lucy might track Kendara down looking for his son. She’d been kidnapped, tortured, and escaped to bring warning to Rage MC. Rooster had heard she worked with Phoenix at Trust HQ as a family lawyer now.
“I know who you mean,” Rooster said, his mind jumping all over the place. When he’d been riding towards the accident, he could have sworn that Kenny was hit on purpose. Now, knowing who she was, someone targeting her made little sense. Unless it was something to do with her job. Even so, he wouldn’t be mentioning it to Casey; Mac would have his balls if he did so. No, he owed his brother from another club the courtesy of telling him his suspicions.
“Rooster, you drifted off there,” Casey said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Sorry, I’m a bit out of it. The car exploding raised some bad memories, you know?” he replied and then regretted it when Casey flung her arms around him.
“O.M.G. What do you need? Sit down, Roo, honey. I’ll call Chance. Do you want Big Al or Janet?” Casey began babbling.
Bemused Rooster struggled to remove himself from Casey’s embrace, and relief hit like a truck when Mac appeared with a scowl and dragged his woman away.
“What the fuck?” Mac demanded as Casey handed him Blue and launched at Rooster.
The look on Mac’s face almost sent Rooster into fits of laughter, but the situation was serious enough that he didn’t. Casey wrapped herself around him once more and clung to him tightly.
“We’ll make the nightmares go away,” she murmured as she rubbed his back and stroked her cheek on his chest.
Tears clogged Rooster’s throat, and he couldn’t speak or act. All he could do was stand there and let Casey offer her version of love and support. Mac scowled even deeper, and Blue matched his father’s expression.
“Mac, call Chance. Rooster needs him. The explosion brought back his bad memories,” Casey whispered in an aside to Mac.
Rooster shook his head. Did Casey really believe he couldn’t hear her? Mac met his eyes as understanding dawned, and to Rooster’s mortification, Mac moved in closer.
“Brother, what do you need?” Mac muttered.
“I’m fine; give me space,” Rooster choked out.
Mac squeezed his shoulder and then ripped Casey away, covering his balls as he did so.
Rooster snorted. Casey was well known to drop a man with a sharp knee or groin punch if he upset her. Mac clearly thought that stopping her from offering comfort would piss her off.
“Babe, give him some room. He needs space to deal with what he’s feeling,” Mac whispered to Casey, and Casey gave Mac the eye before smiling sweetly at Rooster.
“I’ll call Chance,” she said and disappeared.
“Fuck me,” Rooster muttered, searching for his mobile.
“Chance is busy… Shit, that woman is quick,” Mac groaned, holding up his own phone. “Seriously, brother, what do you need?”
“No fuss. Just give me some space and breathing room. I’ll book an appointment with Janet later and talk shit through. But crowding me doesn’t help, it reminds me of being buried under that concrete and not being able to escape.”
“I can understand that.”
Rooster took a seat, and Mac sat opposite him.
“How was Kenny when you found her?” Mac asked, changing the subject.
“Unconscious, and she had a serious head injury. Gotta tell ya, it seemed deliberate to me. I was heading towards them and had a clear line of sight. That wasn’t a case of road rage. The guy chased her and forced Kenny off the street.”
Mac ran a hand through his hair as he gazed at Rooster. “I had a notion it was something nefarious. Kenny is a careful driver and not one to piss someone off. In a courtroom? Yeah, Kenny will go for the jugular, but outside of it, the woman literally embodies the law.”
“Nefarious, Mac? Really? We’re bikers, dude,” Rooster teased, picking up on Mac’s vocabulary.
“It’s my ‘word of the day’ calendar that Kenny bought me. Can you identify anything about the truck?”
“I was too worried about getting to her. Traffic cameras might have something, but all I can say is it was a white truck that hit her, and a man drove it. Didn’t get anything else once I saw her car rolling. If Kenny hadn’t been wearing a seat belt, she’d be in a body bag right now.”
“Who’s investigating?” Mac asked.
“No idea. I noticed Jaggers arrive as I followed the ambulance. As soon as Kenny identified she was linked to Rage, she became my priority.”
“Jaggers see you?” Mac questioned.
“Yeah, plus the operator knew who I was. I informed her I recognised the victim and was going with them and hung up. It will probably be Lio who investigates or Carter. They seem to be the main two liaisons for the SPD.”
“Carter still got trouble with his new partner?” Mac sought .
“Nah, between Holmes and Carter, they broke Devereaux. His attitude has been royally adjusted, and now he works with Hellfire and not against us. However, that fuckin’ Samson is an asshole. He has a number of complaints against him, and not just from Hellfire. His career as an officer in SPD is going to be very short.”
Mac nodded. He wasn’t on speaking terms with the Chief of Police, Wilson Holmes, but he was aware of the man’s reputation. Holmes ran a tight and clean department. If Samson was causing trouble despite multiple warnings, then he’d be out on his ear soon.
“Anything else you can tell me?” Mac asked.
“About the accident? No. It was quick and planned. That’s the impression I got. Someone targeted her.”
“With Kenny’s background, it could be anyone. There’s gonna be a shitload of leads to chase down. Phoe will have any threats delivered to Kenny through the Trusts. Abigail, the Trust’s Head of Security, keeps all letters and emails,” Mac said.
“Yeah, Abigail will have them if a threat has been made,” Rooster agreed.
They looked up as the doors burst open, and Casey rushed back in, carrying Blue.
“Shit, I forgot! Was it Kenny, Mac?” Casey gasped and looked guilty.
“Yes, babe, she is in with doctors now, and we should learn something soon. They were taking her for a head scan and will speak to us after. She’s hurt her head badly, but they’re going to check her out thoroughly. She’s also sprained her ankle,” Mac soothed.
“Oh, hell. And the other driver?” Casey asked, scowling.
Rooster swapped a glance with Mac and wisely stayed quiet.
“He didn’t stop,” Mac said.
“What?” Casey screeched, and Blue winced. She instantly comforted the boy. “Are you telling me someone hit Kenny and didn’t have the decency to stop?” she hissed.
“Yeah, it looks like a hit and run. SPD will check any traffic cameras local to the accident and try to pick the truck up,” Rooster added helpfully.
Casey scowled even more.
“Find that rat bastard,” Casey ordered, pointing a finger at Mac, and Mac nodded.
Rooster barely held a laugh back despite the circumstances.
Rage and Hellfire produced big men. All over six feet and with muscles coming out of their ears. Yet these guys, once they got a woman, became a pussy cat when their old lady wanted something. Rooster had sworn never to turn like his brothers or Rage brothers had, and he doubted now he’d ever get the chance. Nope, his old lady would obey him. Rooster would make sure she understood he wore the pants.
Then he snorted inwardly. What girl? He was a cripple and needed to remember that.
As Mac led Casey away, sending Rooster a dark look, Rooster was amused but depressed at the same time. Clearly, Mac thought Rooster had upset Casey by his mere appearance on the scene of the accident. Rooster knew he’d never feel like that over a woman. He’d never blame a brother for something useless because no woman would have him. A cripple!
His phone rang, and Rooster sent a glare towards Casey.
“Yo, I am fine,” Rooster stated as he answered Chance’s call.
“Casey said you had flashbacks,” Chance rumbled.
“Casey has a damn big mouth. I am cool and handling shit,” Rooster replied.
“Yeah, well, the woman’s worried about you. I’ve made an appointment with Janet, she can get you in tomorrow morning at nine.” “Brother, I’m capable of making my own appointments,” Rooster pointed out.
“I know you are, but Casey will talk to Phoe, who’ll chat to Clio, who will get on at me. So just attend it,” Chance ordered wearily.
“Already had texted Janet for an appointment, bro, but thanks. I know my limits, Chance; stop fuckin’ treating me with kid gloves,” Rooster said without rancour.
Like Rooster, Chance still suffered a shit load of guilt over the explosion. And it was made worse because Clio had developed PTSD from it, and nobody had realised. Their losses had consumed them, and they’d overlooked the impact on women. Chey still woke up screaming, according to Celt, who’d run into the blast zone to rescue him.
And even now, Chey hovered over Rooster, her guilt at wanting Celt not to save him eating her alive. Rooster could understand why Chey hadn’t wanted Celt in danger. He didn’t blame her at all, but on the flip side, he felt guilt that Chey experienced the same emotion. There was widespread guilt in Hellfire.
“Rooster,” Chance said heavily.
“Prez. Tell Clio I’m fine and dealing with Janet and to stop freaking fretting and worry about those children. She’s raising the next gen of Hellfire. Woman needs a medal with Dax and Louisa Mae,” Rooster replied.
Chance snorted.
There was no denying both his kids took after their father with his attitude. And worse, their adopted babies did, too. Isla was fast becoming a mirror image of Rage’s Eddie.
Rooster shuddered. The world was not ready for a second Eddie.
“Keep me updated around Kendara. We’ll talk tomorrow,” Chance mumbled and disconnected the phone just as there was an indignant shriek from a child.
“Good luck,” Rooster said, recognising the tone of the scream. He’d heard it often enough from his own kids. It was a war cry, and one he was glad to avoid!