Chapter Seven
The first thing that Wolf felt was pain. It sliced through his head so deep that his teeth and cheekbones actually hurt. He bit back a groan, heard breathing coming from in front him, tried to get some sense of who else was in the room with him.
There was a sudden kick to his stomach, and the force of it rolled him over. Now he felt the concrete floor beneath him, and its chill brought him back into his body more fully. It came to him that he was completely naked.
Another kick, this one aimed at his upper back. “Wake up, asshole.”
Wolf opened his eyes, saw a gray wall just a few feet in front of him. He blinked, and full sensation and consciousness rushed into his head, his body, his fingertips. He was one hundred percent awake and aware – and he was seriously fucking pissed off. Too pissed off to feel worry or fear, that was for sure.
In a single movement and without any warning, he shot to his feet, turning as he did so: he was gratified to see that Viper and Preacher looked shocked at him getting up so fast and facing them. Without any doubt, they’d been looking forward to giving him a few more kicks while he was down. Quickly, Preacher raised the gun that he’d been holding slack at his side, and Viper narrowed his eyes at Wolf.
“Welcome to your new digs, Connor. I hope the decor meets your expectations. Sorry about the fact that you’re gonna be locked in, but that’s the deal.”
“What the fuck ,” Wolf rasped, totally unconcerned about his nudity. “What’s the fuckin’ game you’re playin’ here, boys?”
Viper had fully recovered himself now, and he smiled. “No game.”
“No?”
“No.” Viper cocked his head, and the large black snake tattoo on his neck almost seemed to sway with the motion. “It’s best for everyone if you just stay out of sight, and out of mind.”
Wolf glared at them, trying to get a look at the room out of the corner of his eyes. He saw a bed and a urinal, both of which acutely reminded him of his time in prison. No windows, just one door with a sliding panel at about chest level, a chair with his clothes in a messy pile, and cement everywhere. The chill in the air gave him the sense that this was a basement, and he wondered if he was beneath the clubhouse, or if they’d moved him to some far-flung building that the MC used to hide from the authorities.
And to dispose of any fuckin’ problems .
He had to admit that he wasn’t sure what to say next. If movie villains (and his own personal criminal past) were anything to go by, the best way to get a jerk to start talking was to stay silent. Give them a chance to peacock and crow and monologue, and gather what information you could from their loose tongues and massive egos.
So Wolf crossed his arms, and carried on glaring. Sure enough, Viper opened his big stupid mouth and started blabbing:
“You’ll be staying down here twenty-four/seven. If I want to talk to you, I’ll do it through the door. If you don’t talk back, the boys will take turns coming in here and caving your fucking skull in until you do talk to me. They’re already lining up for the chance to smash your face into the floor, Connor, believe me.”
Wolf stayed completely still, now in a more relaxed pose.
“We won’t let you starve, but don’t expect more than one meal a day. We’ll slide the tray through that panel on the door, so if you aren’t there to take it, you can fucking eat it off the floor.” He took a deep breath. “Or not. I don’t actually give a shit.”
Reminding himself that he, Scars, King, and the police had planned for every single eventuality – even this one, though they’d considered it a pretty negligible risk – Wolf held his rock-solid calm. Yeah, he’d get the shit kicked out of him and probably way more than once, but Viper still needed Wolf for information. Viper was weeks away from landing every single one of Dawson Kinney’s dirty contracts, just a couple of months away from solving every single one of his money woes. Faster if he went for the bogus cabin story.
So, yeah. Wolf might be stuck here, but he was still useful, and even though he had no clue where he was standing right now, Bale’s high-up inside man in The Hellions would know. He’d pass all the intel on to the cops, and they’d keep watch over him, wherever he was. He was still OK, despite Preacher pointing a gun at his head.
“So.” Viper stared at him. “Nothing to say?”
Wolf gave a tiny shrug, but stayed silent. Viper and Preacher exchanged glances… and then started laughing, full-on belly laughing. This wasn’t amused laughing, it wasn’t even ‘we got one over on you’ laughing. No. This was ‘you’re not in on the joke, you fucking idiot’ laughing, and it was chilling.
That was when Wolf felt the first true stab of fear. Something was very, very wrong here, and he was suddenly struggling to keep his calm.
“Jesus Christ, Connor.” Viper almost sounded friendly. “Aren’t you at all curious why your clothes are gone?”
Wolf shrugged again, more cautiously this time. “I assume you were lookin’ to see if I was wired or hidin’ a weapon.”
“Not just wired ,” Viper said, ignoring the weapon guess. “Matt Kingston and the cops both love to put tracking patches on their buddies, and some of them are clear and smaller than a SIM card – almost impossible to see on bare skin with just a quick look. Some are implanted under the skin. We had to do a real check for those too.”
Wolf had been put on high alert at King’s name being uttered, and he’d heard very little after ‘cops’. Why was Viper talking about King? How did he know anything about Denton and Bale? What did he know? How much ?
Because he clearly fuckin’ knows somethin’.
“Oh, right .” Viper smirked so hard that his black eyes almost disappeared. “Forgot to mention that I knew any of that , didn’t I?”
Wolf held his stare, fought hard to stay quiet. It was pretty goddam obvious that Viper was bursting to tell him what was going on, and Wolf needed to know –he just wasn’t sure that he wanted to.
“You still haven’t twigged yet, have you?” Viper said, greatly amused. “Give it a minute, the penny will drop. You’re a smart boy, huh?”
And just like that, Wolf suddenly saw . He saw completely and totally, and that meant that not only was he fucked, so was everyone that he loved and cared about.
“Ah,” Viper said quietly, watching the realization dawn across Wolf’s face, as bright as a sunrise. “ There it is. Now you’re all caught up.”
“Bale’s in your pocket,” Wolf said, trying to keep his breathing steady and slow as he listed off every single thing that had just become crystal clear. “Denton doesn’t know that. There is no inside man in the MC. That was just somethin’ that Bale said to get us to trust him and make him the point man on all communications with your club, so now he can say whatever the fuck he wants, and nobody will know that I’m missin’ or anythin’s wrong.” He sucked a breath into his contracting chest, reminded himself that that last part wasn’t strictly true, with the decoy plan that he and Scars had set up. Scars would know that something was up – but it would take weeks. “There are no money problems that Crusher left behind. You have zero interest in takin’ things away from Kinney and his Blood Crew. This was all an elaborate plan to get me here.”
Viper laughed again. “Good job, Connor. Too bad you didn’t have this brainwave this morning, huh?”
“ Why , though? Why go to all of this trouble?” Wolf asked, still not getting that part. “Why not just fuckin’ take me out comin’ home one night? Or shoot me in the head the second I walked into your club?”
“Because this is not about you ,” Viper said crisply. “Not really.”
“So who’s it about?”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Viper said, shaking his head and wagging his finger at Wolf, like he was a naughty student. “Why should I spoil all the fun? How about we give you some time to think about it some more? We can talk again tomorrow. Maybe.”
“I got it,” Wolf said as Viper and Preacher turned to go; he didn’t really get it, but it was a calculated shot in the dark to keep the other man in the room and talking. “You want to end The Road Devils completely, don’t you? Crusher wanted to for years , but never got the chance.”
“He never made the chance,” Viper corrected him, and also confirmed Wolf’s suspicions. “The man was a full-on fucking psycho, as you well know, and so he was great at the brutal bloodshed side of things – but he was a shitty planner. He reacted to situations better than anyone, but he didn’t have the first clue how to be proactive, how to create situations. Create opportunities.”
“And you do.”
Casually, as if Viper was gesturing at a new painting on his office wall, he waved his hand around the room, at Wolf’s naked body. “What do you think?”
“How long?”
“How long?” Viper repeated.
“How long have you been plannin’ to end us? No way you pulled all of this together in a couple of weeks.”
“Ah.” Viper flicked his tongue, and suddenly his name made a lot more sense: the tattoo was obvious, but the man also had a swaying, serpentine quality to him. “Like Crusher, I started thinking about punishing you assholes for leaving the life almost six years ago, but then, lots of people did. Lots of people still do . In terms of finding the right pressure point, not as long as you’d think. It came to me only about five months ago, and when I actually zeroed in on it, I could have fucking kicked myself, seeing as it had been staring me in the face for years… ever since that bitch took over your tattoo place.”
“Zoe?” Wolf was perplexed. He was also wondering just how the fuck he’d missed the fact that Viper Grant was a legitimate threat, all on his own. He supposed that when standing next to Crusher Alcott, anybody would look tame. Viper had certainty presented as a non-entity; dim to the point of stupidity, even. That was clearly a huge fucking mistake. “What does Zoe –”
“I’m a very organized person.” Viper raised his voice and talked over Wolf. “And I knew that Crusher getting involved with that absolute asshole Guardian Michael in his vendetta against you would end badly for him. I couldn’t predict how Crusher would bow out, but I had a very strong feeling that he would, strong enough that I rolled the dice and cashed in one big chip that I’d been holding on to. Though, to be honest, I thought that you or one of your boys would end my dear ex-President. I never saw him being killed by his old high school buddy. I do admit that was a surprise.”
“Five months… and since Zoe came,” Wolf said blankly, still stuck on those time frames, his mind busy trying to find what was surely blatantly obvious. What had been going on five months ago, what would have pushed Viper to start plotting and planning in earnest? What had happened five months ago that made The Road Devils vulnerable to total destruction? What had been going on when Zoe arrived all those years ago that Viper had first missed? “Why –”
“Nuh-uh,” Viper said airily. “No more. You can figure it out yourself… I mean, you’ve got nothing but time to think, right?”
“But –”
“Oh, OK.” Viper sighed in mock exasperation, clearly enjoying every second of Wolf’s agitation. He glanced at his VP. “Preacher, maybe you can give him a little hint and preview of events to come?”
Preacher nodded, then looked at Wolf, now moving the gun to point at Wolf’s heart. He paused, clearly deep in thought, then he fixed his clear green eyes on Wolf’s gray ones.
“‘They caused their sons and daughters to pass through the fire’,” he intoned. “That’s Kings Seventeen.”
Wolf stared at him, his mind whirring, the pieces slowly clicking into place.
Is he sayin’ – no. Oh, fuck no .
“‘And shed innocent blood, the blood of their sons and daughters, and the land was polluted with blood’.” Preacher smiled into Wolf’s ashen face. “Psalm One-oh-six.”
“Viper,” Wolf said, almost numb with terror, his lips barely moving. He wasn’t a man who ever begged for anything, but he heard the pleading in his own voice and truly didn’t care. “ Please don’t –”
“Wolf,” Viper said, almost kindly as he and Preacher headed for the door. “Don’t you get it? I already have. And remember this: it’s all your fault.”
The door slammed behind them, and Wolf was left standing in the middle of his cement cell. Naked and horrorstruck and with only one thing going through his mind, over and over again:
The kids. The kids .
Oh, sweet fuckin’ God.
The kids .