Chapter 17
Seventeen
HITTER
I look around as Swift takes out another fucker with a gun. There are only about four of them left, but the motherfuckers are hiding behind the trees, the tables, and anything else they can find. Pussies.
They came to our club, our house, our fucking home, and destroyed it. On one of the happiest days of my life, too. Yeah, all these fuckers are going to pay.
Another peeks his head up, and I take him out. I turn and look behind us, making sure none of these fucking cockroaches got away. Rounding the corner is Dread, and right behind him is… my angel? What the fuck? Why isn’t she inside, safe? With my heart in my throat, I run that way, praying she isn’t hit by any stray bullets. If I watch her get hit, I will lose my ever-loving fucking mind.
“You almost made it, didn’t you? Hiding like the fucking cowards you both are. Looks like this is the end of the line for you.”
I hear someone say, coming from the side of the building. I can’t see what or who it is, but I speed up. I’m trying to get to my woman as fast as possible, but I'm not quick enough. I watch as Dread’s hand reaches back and shoves Izzy fully behind him just as I hear the gunshot ring out.
“NO!” I scream, wondering who got hit. It was too close for it to miss. Dread stood strong in front of Izzy, but was he fast enough to pull her completely behind him? I keep watching as a big red blotch expands over Dread's chest. He winces, and his face goes ashen as our eyes lock. I watch in complete horror as my brother drops to his knees before falling to the ground.
“Grab the girl, and let’s get out of here!” someone yells, and that’s when I see the fucker who took the shot reach around the corner and grab Izzy, my angel.
“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!” I scream, running again. I’m fast, but the fucker pulls his gun out and starts shooting at me. I keep running, not fucking caring that there’s a gun pointed at me or that a bullet just hit me in the arm. I pull up my gun, but the fucker hides behind Izzy, pointing his gun at her head.
“Let me go, and I won’t shoot her, right here, right now,” he says, and I stop dead. I growl, not knowing what the fuck to do, but the fear on Izzy’s face is gutting me, and I can’t watch her get hurt.
“You hurt her, and there is nowhere in the fucking universe you will be able to hide from me. I’ll find you, and I’ll torture you until the day I die. I fucking swear to you,” I tell him as he’s still backing up. I follow their pace, not taking my eyes off them. I look at Izzy.
“I love you, Angel, with all my heart. I promise you, I’m gonna get you back. Come hell or high fucking water, I will get you back,” I tell her, willing her to believe me, to believe in me. She reaches down and twists the diamond on her finger, hiding it in her palm, making it look like only a regular silver band. I know she’s thinking if they see it, they might try to take it. I’m glad she remembered it has the tracker.
“I know you’ll find me, Cason. I love you,” she says right before a black van races into the compound, and two guys run out of the gunfire, jumping in the truck. The dead man holding my woman backs up the entire way to the van, still holding his head behind Izzy’s and his gun to her temple.
“With who we’re giving her to… you will never find her,” the pussy says right before dragging Izzy into the van and shutting the doors. My brothers come around the building, shooting at the van as it throws dirt and trying to make an escape.
“Aim for the tires!! Izzy’s in the van!” I yell, running to my bike. No way I’m letting them get away.
“DREAD!” I hear roared, and I know it’s Drift and Volt. They found him, and I feel like complete shit for forgetting. I look at the road, then look back at my brother’s. Devin comes over to me, gun still in one hand and his bowie knife in the other.
“We’ll take care of him. Hurry and bring my daughter back,” he says, making his way over to Dread.
“Grim, you go check on Dread. Keep him stable. Beau, call the police and help Grim and Devin. Everyone else, get on your bikes and let’s catch those fuckers,” Swift yells, and we roar our engines to life.
I don’t look back to see if they are ready. I don’t slow down, and I don’t wait. I take off, speeding in the direction the black van went. They couldn’t have gotten far. I see them turn at the end of the street, and I know we will lose them if we don’t catch up soon.
I hear all my brothers at my back, but I don’t slow down. I take the turns with as much speed as my bike can handle. We chase the black van for a couple more miles, but, unfortunately, with the help of an older couple pulling out in front of our bikes, we lose them. I get to the end of the four-way, where Devil’s Crossroads will be, and look in all four directions before Swift is beside me.
“We’ll split into four groups. Each takes a road and follows it. Keep your eyes open, and let's find Izzy. Comp, I want you back at the compound trying to find her,” Swift says, taking action.
“We should all get back to the compound. There is a tracker in Izzy’s ring that will lead us to her,” I tell him before anyone can take off.
“Well, fuck brother. Why didn’t you tell us that before we went off on this fucking goose chase?” he asks, and I know that probably would have been the wiser decision, but my woman was right in front of me in that van. I was so close; I let her down and lost her.
“I didn’t think when they took her. I just hopped on my bike, determined to get to her. I didn’t think they would be able to get away,” I say, beating myself up for not going directly to the tracker. I was praying I would never have to use it.
“Alright, Omens, everyone back to the compound. Church in one hour. I want every single one of you fuckers there, prospects included,” he bellows, roaring up his bike and turning back toward the compound. I take one more look around the crossroads before turning and following, feeling like I abandoned the one person I promised to protect above all else.
Sitting in church is the last fucking thing I want to be doing. I feel like I’m wasting time. My woman is out there scared, has no clue what the fuck is going on, and I don’t know if they are hurting her or not.
“Alright, we have shit to figure out. First and foremost, Devin and Grim have taken Dread to the hospital, but it’s not looking good,” Swift tells the room.
“Motherfucker!” Drift yells as Volt yells, “I’ll kill whoever put a bullet in him.”
“That’s a guaran-fucking-tee, but right now, there’s nothing we can do, and we need to figure out where Izzy is being taken and held. We need a plan to get her back and now. Next, we’ll figure out how these fuckers got in and what to do to make sure this shit doesn’t happen again,” Swift growls and bangs his fists on the table.
He keeps talking, but I stare at the door, zoning out. I don’t care about this shit right now; I don't care about club business. I need Comp’s ass to come in and give me an update on where the fuck my woman is. I can’t take this shit anymore. I stand abruptly, ready to storm down to Comp’s office.
“Hitter, what the hell are you doing, brother?” Swift asks, but just as I turn to walk out the door, Comp comes through, laptop in hand. I take my seat, waiting for Comp to give us whatever he’s found.
“Alright, I can get within about a two-mile radius of where they are, but no closer,” he says, hooking the laptop to the screen in the room so everyone can see. I can tell he’s pissed at himself because the scar on his face is tight and has turned red. Usually, it’s pale, but right now, it’s sticking out like a bolt of lightning with deadly accuracy.
“I know where that’s at. That’s a warehouse behind the old strip club in town,” Loki says in a dead voice. His eyes are locked on the screen as he plays Five Finger Fillet with his knife. Crazy fucking bastard.
“How do you know that?” Swift asks, knowing Loki wasn’t one for strip clubs. We’ve never known why, but he’s always been disgusted with them. We didn’t go often, but years back, we owned one. We changed it to a bar instead of a club when Loki seemed to have issues with it. We never asked questions because the brothers honestly never gave two fucking shits about the club or the women in it.
“My mom used to work there,” he says, lifting his shoulder in a shrug like he doesn’t give a shit, but I notice the knife stabbing the table a bit harder every time he brings it down between each finger. I want to ask questions, but at this moment, I could give two shits.
“I have to find her. She’s pregnant, and she doesn’t even know it yet,” I tell the room, holding my head in my hands.
“Wait, what? She’s pregnant? How the hell does she not know? And how the hell do you know?” Swift asks, confused.
“Does that really matter right now, Prez? How do we get my Ol’ Lady back?” I ask the room, ready to burn down every fucking thing in my path if it gets me my woman back.