Chapter 4
Callan
I slid off my bike and let my helmet dangle from the handlebar as I ran my eyes over the small, single-story home.
It was a secluded house in the middle of the countryside with no neighbors for quite a while, but it wasn’t too far of a drive from the nearest city.
It was an ideal location for Rachel, who attended college and had a pretty good social life from what I’d understood over the years while she was gone.
Raymond had picked well when he decided to take Rachel in and buy this place.
“Granddad should be home,” Carter grumbled. “His bike is here.”
Rodney, Carter’s dad and Raymond’s son, strode up the small, brick steps to the wide front porch. His boots thumped across the boards until he was in front of the door. When he tried the handle, the door swung inward.
Unlocked.
A biker from a club like ours—a club that had more enemies than friends—didn’t leave their fucking front door unlocked, no matter how secluded they might be. A man could leave the club, but the club never left him.
Everything about this spelled trouble.
“Fuck,” I muttered, pulling my gun out of my cut. I quickly followed Carter inside. Gretchen—Carter’s mom—stood watch at the front door, armed and ready if trouble decided to strike. We quickly scouted the house, and my gut clenched when I saw the state of Rachel’s room.
It had been fucking trashed. Her mattress was cut open, her drawers yanked out of the dresser and nightstand, everything fucking thrown everywhere. Her closet was in shambles, and her bathroom was no goddamn better.
She was definitely on the fucking run and seeking shelter and safety in the only place she knew she could.
The club.
I gritted my teeth, rage boiling in my gut at whoever had put my woman in this fucking predicament.
Whoever was after her would have to get through me first. That was for fucking sure.
“Shit!” Carter barked. “Dad, I found him.”
I made my way out of the room, putting my gun back in my shoulder holster on the inside of my cut. “Rachel’s room is fucking trashed,” I announced as I headed in the direction of Carter’s voice.
Raymond was lying flat on the ground in the middle of his destroyed bedroom, blood drying beneath his head. Stepping over a messy pile of clothes, I pressed my fingers to his pulse, finding it steady and strong, but he was unconscious. Judging by the blood, he’d been knocked out.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Rodney snarled, staring down at his father with his hands planted on his hips. “Find his truck keys. Gretchen and I will get him to the hospital and sit with him.”
Carter nodded once, beginning to search Raymond’s room for the truck keys.
“Callan and I will head back to the clubhouse. See if we can get Rachel to talk. Something is going on. I knew she wasn’t coming home just because she suddenly fucking missed us,” Carter grumbled.
“She never showed interest in coming back to the club.”
Rodney shook his head. “I called bullshit the moment you called me, remember?” I frowned at Carter’s back. He’d been the one to tell their parents she was back? That was kind of fucked up, especially when he knew they didn’t get along.
Carter tossed his dad the keys he found buried under a pile of clothes. “Bring him to the truck,” Rodney ordered.
Carter grabbed Raymond under his arms, and I grabbed Raymond’s legs. Grunting, we carried him through the kitchen and out to the garage. With some muttered curses, we got Raymond into the backseat and shut the door. Raymond opened the garage door, and Gretchen climbed into the front passenger seat.
“Let me know what Rachel tells you,” she said, looking at her son.
Carter nodded once, and we headed out to our bikes. “Gonna bother locking the front door?” I asked Carter as I strapped my helmet to my head, watching as Rodney and Gretchen disappeared down the street, headed in the opposite direction we would be going.
Carter shook his head as the garage door shut, Rodney and Gretchen’s bikes already hidden within. “Nope. Make it look like no one’s been here if they come looking again.”
I glanced back at the now closed garage. “Bikes won’t be a giveaway?”
Carter shrugged. “For all those fuckers know, the bikes belong to Granddad and Rachel.” He straddled his bike. “Let’s get the fuck home. My sister’s got some explaining to do.”
Yeah, she did. The problem would be getting her to speak. Rachel was nothing if not closed off. And since she hadn’t opened her mouth yet about why she was really home, I could bet money performing a root canal on someone would be easier than getting Rachel to tell us what was going on.
Rachel
Carter stormed into the clubhouse and pointed a stiff finger at me.
I blinked at him in confusion. “What the hell did I do this time?” The only time he got like this was when I’d done something, but fuck, I was staying out of trouble.
Sticking to the clubhouse, only going up the street to the gas station for cigarettes and snacks, and keeping to myself.
“Chapel,” he snarled at me.
I sighed and slid off my barstool, leaving my soda where it was.
Thankfully, I’d just eaten lunch because the idea of being stuck in the chapel with my angry brother would’ve been enough to kill my appetite.
I already knew this wasn’t going to end well.
I hated when people came at me sideways and my brother was damn well going to do that.
Carter and I clashed heads when he was angry. He didn’t know how to watch what the fuck he said, and it usually lit a fire within me, too. And since we were both so damn similar, it turned out to be an explosion that would burn everyone near, too.
We were… destructive.
Callan, who was already sitting at the table, silently met my gaze but didn’t say a word as Brittany walked in behind me, closing the chapel doors behind her. I bristled, my jaw tightening. This was definitely an ambush, and I felt cornered.
And when I was cornered, I attacked.
“What?” I snapped at Carter as I turned my attention to him.
“Granddad was found unconscious. Head wound. Severe concussion and some brain swelling. Whole fuckin’ house was trashed, and your room was fucking destroyed.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at him. But on the inside, I felt sick. Granddad had known what he was doing when he sent me away, hadn’t he? The old man would be fine. He had to be. A head wound wouldn’t be enough to take him out… would it?
“You better tell me what the fuck is going on, Rachel.”
“Fuck you,” I seethed, bristling. I wasn’t spilling shit. If Granddad wanted anyone to know, he would’ve reached out. “You think I’m telling you a goddamn thing when you’ve got me trapped in this room, guarding that fucking door like you’re caging me in?”
“This isn’t the time for your fucking bullshit games, Rachel!” Carter shouted at me.
“If Granddad wanted you to know what the fuck was going on, he would’ve told you,” I spat at him.
I jabbed my finger in his direction. “Get the fuck out of my face with that bullshit. I may be your blood, but I’m not part of your little club.
” I made a sprinkling motion with my fingers, and his eyes darkened, his cheeks flushing with rage.
“You can wait until Granddad wakes up and crawl down his throat if you want answers, but you’re not getting shit from me.
Especially with your holier than thou fucking attitude. ”
Carter shoved away from the door, crowding my space. I tilted my chin up, fucking daring him to do something stupid.
“Back the fuck up,” Callan snapped, suddenly right there beside us, pressing his hand to Carter’s chest. I blinked in surprise. When the hell had he moved? I hadn’t even heard him push back from the table.
Carter swung his angry gaze to Callan. “Who the fuck—”
“You said she was my problem now, remember?” Callan said, arching a brow at Carter. My teeth ground together. What the fuck? I was no one’s problem. “Which means she’s under my fucking protection—even from you. Back up, Carter. You’re too fucking close.”
My eyes widened a fraction, surprised by Callan’s words, and some of my fight died. Callan was standing up to his president to protect me. What the hell…
He looked at Brittany. “Get him out of here.”
Carter sneered at Callan, but Callan ignored him. Brittany gripped Carter’s wrist, pulling him to the door. “You need to chill out anyway,” she told him. “Come on. Let’s get a beer. Take a breather. Maybe smoke a cigarette or two.”
Carter glared at me before Brittany finally tugged him out of the room. Callan shut the door behind them and then walked over to the table, taking a seat again. Silently, he grabbed a cigarette out of his cut and lit it, watching me through the smoke that filled the space around him.
“Take a seat or walk out. But if you walk out, you’re just postponing the inevitable,” he told me in an almost bored tone, like he didn’t care whether I opened up or not.
Not sure how I was supposed to feel about that, especially after the scene he just caused with my brother.
I glowered at him. “Fuck was that about?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “Carter found out we fucked. Told me you’re my problem now.
” Callan ran his eyes over me in a way that made every part of me come alive with the need to be claimed.
Fuck, he wasn’t even touching me. How did he do that?
“For the record, I don’t think you’re a problem.
I think you’re backed into a corner, lost, and don’t know where to fuckin’ turn.
” He flicked those eyes up to mine once more.
“Let me take care of the problem for you, Rachel.”
I sighed and pulled out the chair across from him, sitting my ass on the comfortable, worn leather. “Is Granddad okay?” I asked.
Callan shrugged. “Right now, it’s all up in the air. Rodney or Gretchen will reach out as more news comes available on his condition.” I frowned, my gut twisting. Callan flicked his ashes into an ashtray on his right. “Tell me what’s going on, kitten.”
I scrubbed my hands down my face. The club had found out, and I knew they needed to know, especially since Granddad was now hospitalized and couldn’t take care of whatever was going on himself. But the way Carter had come at me… it’d made me rebellious.
Old habits died hard, it seemed. Three years away hadn’t changed anything, really.
“I was getting groceries when two men from the Souls of Grim MC tried to snatch me right out of the parking lot.” Callan’s eyes went stormy, his rage palpable, but he kept his mouth shut.
“The only reason I’m sitting here right now is because some brave old lady who didn’t know me from fucking Hades smacked one of the men upside the head with her purse, threatening to call 911.
I don’t know what the hell she had in her bag, but she smacked that fucker hard enough to knock him out.
Then, she told me to get the hell out of there. ”
“Why’d you come here?” Callan asked, studying me. His face was nearly unreadable, but it helped a bit, honestly. To see him so calm and level-headed made it a tad easier to open up about what happened. If Granddad wanted it to remain a secret… well, too late for that now.
I sighed. “Granddad told me to when I called him. Didn’t let me come home. Told me not to reach back out. So, I came here. And I didn’t know what he wanted you all to know, so I just kept my mouth shut and lied out my ass.”
“But it concerned you. You were the one nearly fucking kidnapped by a rival club, Rachel. Not him. You had every right to tell us what was going on. Fuck how Raymond might have felt about it.”
My chest tightened. I just shrugged one shoulder. My loyalty lay with Granddad, no matter what it might cost me. He’d saved me in more ways than one. If I’d remained here, I probably would’ve been killed or locked up.
Callan grunted when the silence only stretched between us. “The men—describe them.”
I rubbed at my temples where a headache was beginning to form. Callan reached into his cut and pulled out a clear tube. When he popped the top off, a blunt slid free. He lit it before passing it over to me.
I couldn’t stop the small smile from tilting my lips even if I’d tried. He just nodded once at me. The man was eerily good at sensing what I needed.
“One of the men had a patch over his eye,” I informed Callan.
“That stood out to me the most. Otherwise, no. To be honest, I don’t know much else.
Both had dark hair. The other one was wearing shades, so I can’t give you an eye color.
” I closed my eyes, trying to think. I knew this information was vital, but fuck—I’d been more focused on making it away from them than I’d been trying to memorize anything about them.
“The one without the eyepatch has a crooked nose, and he’s missing his front tooth,” I suddenly remembered. I opened my eyes, looking at Callan again. “I noticed it when the old lady knocked him on his ass.”
Callan grunted. “They’re dead as soon as I get my hands on them, you hear?”
I smirked and leaned back in my chair. I didn’t know what strand this was, but it had me feeling relaxed already. Figured Callan wouldn’t have the cheap shit. “Feeling protective?”
He let his eyes meet mine. “Of you?” I swallowed thickly at the overprotective glimmer dancing in his dark eyes. “Always.”