Chapter Twenty-Four
Colter
“This is some Crow-level gory shit,” Sway said as he scrubbed the wall with a mop soaked in blood.
He wasn’t wrong.
The sun was high in the sky. We were all taking turns cleaning and digging graves. Neither of the tasks was easier than the other, given how much of a mess we’d made in the house.
“Shame we couldn’t just torch the place,” he added, wincing as he scrubbed harder at a stain that didn’t want to release.
“Yeah. But it makes more sense for it to just sit and decay while Dylan technically still owns it,” Rook said, dropping a rag into a bucket that was looking more red than clear with each passing minute.
“No one will come snooping. The bodies will get a chance to decompose. We should plant some trees over ‘em.”
“Not a bad idea,” Sway agreed. “What’s Dylan thinking about this place sitting abandoned?”
“Think she’s worried a little about the taxes for something that is just gonna sit. But I will cover that. Eventually, she can probably sell it.”
We buried the bodies far enough back on the property at the bottom of a downward slope that would make the area nearly impossible to build on.
Even if someone eventually bought the place, they’d knock the clubhouse down and build in the same area. They’d never know about the bodies in the back.
If someone somehow did come across them, they’d have a hell of a time identifying them without the teeth that were going to be tossed into the ocean once we made it to L.A.
Nasty work, removing identifying markers from a corpse before burying them. But necessary.
I wanted this chapter closed for Dylan.
For good.
Nothing that could ever come back to bite her (or us) in the ass.
That said, we were fucking hurting. All of us. But especially me, Saint, and Syn, since all of us refused to sit by and let Slash, Sway, Riff, and Rook do all the work.
Detroit and Raff were holding down the fort back in Shady Valley, taking care of business, taking care of the animals and the women.
Raff, it seemed, was finally back on his feet and even itching to get back on the road again, though Slash was grounding him for another few weeks at least.
He had gone over to the motel to grab all of Dylan’s stuff and move it into my room, though.
“That all the drugs?” I asked when Slash came out of Roach’s room with something in a bucket.
“Yeah. Flushed the actual drugs. But there are pipes and needles.”
“We can crush the pipes,” I said. “And there are community sharps drop-off locations in L.A. We can get rid of them there. Find anything else in his room?”
We’d continued to rent out Dylan’s moving truck (with a lot of grumbling from the company), so we were going to load up the back with all the clothes and personal effects to get rid of or donate.
Nothing was going to be left in the house but the furniture and unplugged appliances.
With how much work we had to do, I figured we would all be crashing at the clubhouse for the day, taking shifts while some napped.
My gut twisted at the idea of being away from Dylan for even a day, but I reminded myself that once this was handled, it was done. We were free to go to L.A. Then, finally, home.
“Roach was no genius. He had all his passwords written down. So we got access to all his shit. Rook, I’ll have you on that and all the electronics once the cleaning is done.”
Most of the guys weren’t coming to L.A. with us.
There wasn’t anything for them to do there.
So it was just going to be me, Dylan, Slash, and Saint.
Syn wanted to see it through to the end too, but Saint was pissed enough that he wouldn’t sit out all the work with his arm dangling down like it was.
He’d teamed up with Slash to force the younger brother back to Shady Valley to get looked at and recover.
“Yep. I’ll get everything I can off of everything before wiping and getting rid of ‘em,” Rook agreed.
The personal effects for the girls were going to go in a storage unit in L.A. for the girls to go through once they got out of rehab.
We didn’t know what they would be doing after. Dylan told me that almost none of the girls had any family. It was how it was so easy for Roach to keep them under his thumb. There was no support system for them after they were sober.
Except Dylan.
And through her, me.
I made good money.
I could help the girls rent a house or something while they looked for work, got an education, figured their future out.
We weren’t going to leave them on their own.
“Alright,” Saint said, walking in, waving his phone. “I got you a place to stay near L.A. Not in it. That was wishful thinking.”
I didn’t even know he was doing that.
It was on my list after I finished cleaning.
“Where?”
“Found a rental house that was fine with a service lab and two Rotties.
Got a yard and everything. Asked that you clean up after the dogs, but that was the only stipulation.
Also found you a vet. Got appointments for the day after tomorrow.
One after another. Said you found two strays and you think one might be pregnant and you wanted to get ‘em checked out.”
For some reason, my gaze slid to Slash, finding him watching Saint with pinched brows, something intense in his eyes.
But Slash wasn’t the kind of leader to tell you what he was thinking. So I had no idea where his head was at.
“Thanks, man,” I said, nodding.
“This place is a hole, man,” Rook said, looking around as he leaned against a clean wall to take a break.
“I’ve seen worse clubhouses,” Slash said. “But it’s not some place I’d want to call home. Shocked so many women did for so long.”
“From what it sounds like, none of these women had anywhere else to go,” I explained.
“It was a ragtag group of orphans and outcasts who just needed somewhere to crash. Dylan said they were making plans to revamp it before Roach took it from her. They were talking about painting it in shades of pink and purple as the ultimate fuck-you to her dead father and the sexist club he ran.”
“Shame they never got to do that,” Sway said. “And the lighter colors would have made it easier to see all this blood,” he added, plunging the mop into the bucket again. “Would it have killed you to off these guys in a cleaner way?” he grumbled.
As the day wore on, we all got more and more grumpy about the mess. Especially as it dried and got more and more difficult to remove.
But, eventually, we had most of it done.
I walked outside, trying to get some fresh air after breathing in bleach for hours. I automatically found myself reaching for my phone and calling Dylan.
“Everything okay?” she asked, voice tight.
“Yeah, just wanted to hear your voice. Been listening to a lot of bitching and moaning about the blood all day. Been doing some of it myself.”
“God, you’re still working on it?” she asked. Then, under her breath, “Men.”
“Hey, we all had to learn to clean when we prospected,” I said. “There was just significantly less blood then.”
“Fair enough. How is it going?”
“We’re mostly done. We have a lot of packing to do, but aside from that…”
“It sounds like you’re not coming back tonight.”
“It’s not seeming likely. Are you okay? The girls?”
“They’re starting to detox,” Dylan told me.
“How’s that going? Don’t know much about meth detox.”
“It seems to start almost like depression. Everyone is just really tired. But other than that, they all seem to be reacting differently. Diana is down. Megan is irritable. And Emma is really anxious. We’re just trying to keep them calm. And fed.”
“How might tomorrow look?”
“A lot like this. Just amplified. And layered with a lot of body aches, paranoia, and just bad cravings. I’m hoping we can find them placement tomorrow.
I’ve mostly been doing research. Some of these places are real hellholes.
They’ve had enough of that. I mean, I’m going to have to scrounge up some money to—”
“Got some good news on that front,” I cut her off. “Roach had a decent stash in a safe in his room.”
“How decent?”
“Enough to cover their treatment. Maybe some new clothes and shit after they get out. We’ll help ‘em with the housing situation.”
“We,” she repeated.
“Yeah, we.”
There was a slight pause. “I like that.”
“I like it too. How are you? You’re remembering to take care of yourself too, right?”
“Yeah, I’m alright. Just tired. It’s been a long twenty-four hours.”
“Let Morgaine and Vienna take a shift. Get a good nap in. Tomorrow’s not gonna be any shorter of a day. But Saint got a house rented for us that will allow all three dogs. And he set up vet visits.”
“Oh, wow. That’s great. I mean, I’m a little nervous about introducing Sugar and the Rotties. But I’m hoping they get along. It will make things so much easier. How are they?”
“Well fed and sleeping on one of the beds. Took a while to convince them they could get up. But once they did, they passed out hard. Probably the most peaceful they’ve been all their lives.”
“Good. They deserve it. What time are you guys coming back?”
“I’m planning on first light. You guys have to check out before, what, ten?
Figure we can meet outside with the dogs, take them for a walk together, feel things out.
We can eat breakfast in the park before we get on the road so we can settle in at the house.
Crow and Judge will meet us there. And then you, Diana, Megan, and Emma can talk them all into rehab. ”
—
That was exactly how things went.
As soon as the sun started creeping through the trees, we all did a sweep of the house, making sure we didn’t miss any blood, knives, bullets, or anything that belonged to the men who no longer existed.
With that, we rolled the extra bikes into the back of the moving truck and all made our way back to the hotel.
Morgaine and Vienna were at breakfast with the other girls. But Dylan was outside with Sugar, waiting for me.
The second I climbed out of the SUV, she flew at me, jumping up, and wrapping her legs around me. My hands went to her ass, holding her against me.
“That’s a hell of a welcome back,” I said, my voice wheezing.
“Oh! Your ribs,” she said, trying to drop down, but I wasn’t letting her go yet.
“Trust me, after all the digging, hauling, and cleaning, holding you is the least of my complaints when it comes to my ribs.”
“How are they?”
“Not great.”
“And your arm?” she asked, reaching for my sleeve and yanking it up.
She’d done the best she could with the first aid kit I’d brought. The gash from the bullet was held together with butterfly sutures. It was going to heal kind of gnarly, but that was alright. A small price to pay for her freedom. And the freedom of all the other girls.
“I don’t even want to ask about your hands,” she said.
“I wore gloves for all the nasty parts,” I told her. That was all of it, really. No grit in the wounds. Or bleach eating away at healing skin. “How’re you feeling?”
“Sore,” she admitted. “I have some nasty bruises to show you later. But put me down so we can get the introductions over with.”
Sugar was already staring at the window of the car, where Mack had his big block head out, sniffing the air.
Sway lent a hand, taking Molly as I walked Mack, and Dylan came with us, leading a curious and excited Sugar around until we were all relatively sure the dogs weren’t going to fight, then slowly getting closer. Until they were all wiggling and trying to drop down on their front legs to play.
Satisfied they were all worn out and introduced, we made our way back to the hotel, got some food for ourselves and the dogs, then we all loaded up into the various cars, trucks, and onto the bikes.
Thankfully, the trip to L.A. was only about an hour, and the dogs could once again get out to stretch their legs and spend more time together.
“Do you think Mack and Molly will be okay here while we go and—” she started, only to trail off when a new car pulled into the driveway along with all the others, minus the guys who’d headed back to Shady Valley.
My hand went automatically for my gun as the girls all stiffened up. Until I saw who was climbing out of the driver’s seat. “It’s Crow,” I said, relaxing. Another car pulled up next, and out exited Judge.
Then the passenger and backseat doors open and eight women were suddenly making their way toward the house as well.
“Oh, my God,” Dylan said, eyes round as the other club girls squealed and rushed outside to hug their sisters. “I thought we were going to have to track them down.”
“Guess getting rid of Roach’s last few guys was easy work,” I said. “They found them for us. Go on. Go say hi.”
Dylan sucked in a steadying breath and moved outside.
Her steps were slow and uncertain, like some part of her expected some (or all) of the girls to turn on her, pointing fingers, and blaming her for what happened to them.
But as I watched, all I saw were hugs and happy, relieved tears.
“Rook called,” Saint said, moving in at my side to watch the women out the window.
“Did he find something on the electronics?”
“No. I asked if he could focus on the treatment thing for us instead, since he had a long road of nothing to do. Plus, he’s used to dealing with medical places from when his mom was still really struggling.”
“There can’t be anywhere for all these women.”
“Not one place, no. But he found beds in five separate ones.”
“How soon?”
“Some today. Others, tomorrow. I figure the ones detoxing the hardest go in first. Then, three days from now, we’ll know everyone is getting the care we need, and we can finally head home.”
I was more excited about that than I’d expected.
Dylan in my room. Nothing to distract us from spending as much time together as we wanted. Nothing hanging over our heads. Enjoying each other. Making plans.
I couldn’t fucking wait.