Chapter 5 Raven
Present time—
“You think he told the truth?” I asked, washing the blood from my hands as Crow backed away from the sink.
He ripped a few paper towels from the roll on the counter and dried off, tossing them into the trash can when finished. “We don’t have much choice but to believe him.”
“Boris has no loyalty to us,” I pointed out.
“I don’t think he’s lyin’, Raven. He said he was done with the torture and questions. Fuckin’ took his own life in front of us. I think he died with a clear conscience.”
Snorting, I didn’t reply to that.
“Maybe he took secrets with him, but at least he told the truth about the girls. I got the impression that he never wanted to hurt them to begin with and was only acting on orders.”
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t deserve to die.”
“Yeah, I agree with you. Just making sense of his suicide.”
We’d taken a hired thug blackmailing a bartender named Bella and brought him back to The Roost, interrogating Boris in the basement for any information about Bella’s sister and her kidnapping.
He finally gave up the location and provided an address after enduring hours of torture and the Iron Maiden.
Ended up impaling his body on the spikes inside the chamber and bled to death in front of us, chomping down on a cyanide pill he had kept hidden in his mouth the whole time.
Fucking crazy that he didn’t do it sooner.
“I’m calling church. We’ve got shit to discuss and plan for Brianna’s rescue tonight. As soon as it’s dark, we’re gonna head out.”
Fine with me. “Got your back, Pres.”
He stomped his way upstairs, hollering for everyone to move their asses. Five minutes later, he banged the gavel down and filled the club in on what we learned downstairs, tossing an envelope on the table as he finished.
“We sure this isn’t a trap?” Hawk asked. As Sergeant at Arms, it was his job to be suspicious of damn near everything. His quick wit, critical thinking skills, and focus protected this club on a daily basis.
“Could be,” Crow mused, “but it doesn’t change the fact that Bella’s sister is in trouble.”
A few heads nodded in agreement.
“What’s the next move, Pres?” I asked, staring at the man I knew as not only my new pres but the beating heart of the Devil’s Murder MC. Felt right to see him at the head of the table. Like Lucky Lou had mentioned, only a Holmes should lead the DMMC. It was in his blood.
And that was what Rook wanted.
“We rescue Brianna and protect Bella.”
Bella. His newest obsession.
I didn’t mind the sweet talkin’, sassy, smokin’ hot bartender my pres couldn’t seem to get enough of since he arrived back in town.
My issues arose from the danger the entire club faced because of Bella and her sister Brianna.
We didn’t need to lose any more members when we were still recovering from the shock of Rook’s death.
Hours earlier, we learned Brianna had been kidnapped, and the assholes who took her were trying to fuck around with our club. They forced Bella to pick up a package from the post office and demanded she drop it off at The Roost.
To her credit, she wasn’t stupid and confessed everything to Crow before placing the padded envelope in his office. Now, we sat around the table for church, staring at that fucking envelope as Crow sighed, ripping it open.
No fucking hesitation.
Gotta admit he wasn’t a pussy. Not much scared him, just like his old man.
We didn’t know what the fuck was in that envelope, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out this meant more trouble.
We had enough shit to deal with since Rook’s death.
Our president had been murdered, gunned down in the middle of the fucking afternoon, and we still hadn’t found all the fuckers responsible yet.
Losing our pres had cut deep, and with Crow’s return to Henderson, we finally managed to start the healing process.
Pulling out one of my Cuban cigars, I lit the end, puffing until the cherry burned and the spicy, almost sweet flavor hit my tongue.
This particular brand was a favorite because of the earthy, woody, and sharp aroma that came from a strong blend of Ligero leaves.
Add in the slower burning rate that enabled each cigar to last longer, and I couldn’t ask for a better smoke.
I savored the taste, looking to my pres as he pulled out a bunch of large photographs.
Blackmail.
The old-school way.
With all the technology available, it wasn’t often anyone went through the trouble of printing pictures out. Amazing how these shifty motherfuckers thought they could control us with such tactics. It would take a hell of a lot more to intimidate the Devil’s Murder.
Crow snorted. “What a bunch of bullshit. These don’t prove a goddamn thing other than we’re being watched.” He tossed the stack across the table for the rest of us to peruse.
I didn’t bother picking them up since I could see everything I needed to know from where I sat.
“All our legit businesses, including the strip clubs and pawn shops, are being canvassed. Even the towing and repair service jobs that have been faked.” Making a noise of disgust, I spit a piece of tobacco leaf from my mouth.
“Fucking amateurs. They don’t know shit. ”
“I agree,” Hawk added.
“Just a ploy to annoy us,” Claw added.
“I don’t know,” Cuckoo mused, chewing on a long stick of red licorice after he snapped off a piece with his teeth. “It could be a way to throw us off the trail if we got too close to the truth.”
Crow ticked his chin at Carrion. “What do you think?”
Carrion. The quiet one. The deadliest among us but also the only crow with a sixth sense. He knew things the rest of us didn’t. His skills, including his ability to tap into the recent past, were downright scary. Visions? I couldn’t say for sure. But I knew to listen when he spoke up.
“Flip them over.”
Crow gathered up the photos, placing each of them face down. Something was drawn on the back of them, lines of some kind that formed boxes or grids.
“Well, shit. I don’t know what the fuck this means.”
I leaned forward, staring as I realized they formed a pattern. “I think it’s a puzzle of some kind.”
“It is,” Carrion agreed. “Try shuffling them around until they fit.”
Crow began moving and spinning each photograph until the lines connected. Puzzle complete, he cursed. “It’s a map.”
“What the hell?” Claw shook his head. “What’s the X? Buried fucking treasure?”
Hawk snorted. “Doubt it. Is this supposed to be a map of Henderson?”
“The kindergarten version,” Talon mumbled. “How the hell do we know where to start? There’re no landmarks or anything else to go on.”
“There’s enough,” Carrion contradicted. “Pres knows.”
All eyes turned to Crow.
“Fuck.” He frowned, dousing the room in silence as he tried to make sense of the bullshit fragment of a map. “Wait. This looks like . . . motherfucker!”
I tensed, wondering what upset him.
“This is the neighborhood I grew up in. My fucking house with the goddamn X on it. I recognize the way the streets connect and the grouping of houses.”
“I don’t like this,” I growled, snuffing out my cigar. I’d finish it later. “Something ain’t adding up here.”
“No shit,” Hawk agreed.
“Pres?”
Crow shook his head. “Carrion, can this wait until tomorrow? I don’t know if Brianna has another night. She might not make it past the dawn.”
Carrion closed his eyes, swaying slightly in his chair.
When they opened, solid white greeted us as he tapped into the power of his crow—the only bird among us who didn’t have onyx feathers. Carrion’s crow was white as bone.
“Don’t wait on the girl.” He stood, dismissing himself from church. “I’ll meet you there.”
As the door shut behind him, Talon blew out a breath. “It’s so fucking freaky when he does that shit.”
Falcon had been silent most of the meeting so far, but he flicked his cigarette, dropping ash into a tray on the table. “He’s not been the same since his resurrection. You all know that. He was dead for nearly twenty minutes.”
Falcon brought him back, but Carrion had changed from the experience. Not that he’d ever been what anyone would call normal.
“I trust him and know better than to interfere.” Crow’s words silenced us on the subject. He turned to me. “V.P.? What you thinkin’?”
I’d held my opinion to myself before now.
My club brothers thought I was easy to read. That I was focused and straightforward, and when I said I wanted to seek revenge for Rook, nothin’ would stand in my way. They weren’t wrong. I did crave justice. More than that, I wanted to scar, maim, and spill blood.
But that didn’t mean I was some one-dimensional guy who lived at surface level, and there wasn’t shit more to it than that.
That was where they were wrong. I had layers, like a fucking onion, and peeling them back took time and effort.
Only those closest to me fucking cared enough to do it, especially after I lost Sarah.
Didn’t change the fact that I had thoughts, feelings, and desires, and I kept to myself most of the time.
Everyone thought they understood me. Maybe they did. If others knew how much I held back, they’d lose their fucking minds at the chaos that churned within me, just waiting for the chance to break free.
I suppose we all felt that way since Rook was murdered. Crow, most of all.
“I won’t rest easy until this is settled,” I finally replied, locking eyes with my pres. “The only thing I can think about is hunting the bastards down who’re responsible. I want blood for blood—an eye for an eye. Goddamn vengeance and suffering,” I growled, slamming a fist on the table.
Crow’s hand landed firmly on my shoulder. I never noticed that he had moved. “I understand, and you’re not alone. We’ll get our revenge. Ain’t nobody letting that shit go, including me, Raven.”