Chapter 11 #2
We’re on them in seconds. I zero in on the guy in the button-up shirt because he might be their cartel connection.
I plant my boot on the side of his knee.
A sickening crunch later and he’s on the ground screaming.
Unfortunately, I’m all out of shits to give for these fuckers.
When he grabs the leg of a sturdy workbench to pull himself up, I kick him back down and pull out another zip tie.
He fights me hard. I catch an elbow over my eyebrow, feel the skin split, and warm blood drips down into my brow.
Doesn’t matter. I’m bigger and stronger and manage to get the job done in under two minutes.
When I get to my feet, I can see that the fight is not going well for the Hyenas. One of the Hyenas grabs a tire iron off the bench and slams it into Scar’s temple before Onyx plows into him with one shoulder, knocking him off his feet.
Onyx is already in the office, yanking drawers and stuffing his empty duffel with paperwork. Slate grabs a folder off the workbench and shoves it inside his vest.
That’s when headlights start sweeping across the front windows. Bikes, lots of them, are swarming the place.
“Striker, talk to me,” I say into my mic. “We found what we came for and need an exit solution.”
“Our drone is in the air. I see twelve bikes surrounding the building and another ten inbound. The dockside road’s still clear. Time to light the place up and get the fuck out of there.”
“Jasper, Onyx! The dockside road is clear.”
“Jasper responds, “I heard.”
Onyx yells over his shoulder, “I’ve one more drawer to check!”
Jasper’s already walking around the room with a gas can, dousing the benches, the bikes, and all the half-built drones. Their whole chop operation is about to go up in flames. Two brothers drag my zip-tied cartel friend and the others towards the back door.
I grab as much of my stolen inventory as I can carry. Merc and Scar grab what they can as well.
On my way out, Jasper’s hand grabs my shoulder and spins me around. He jerks his chin at the soaked workbench.
“You seem to have some hostility stored up. Do you want the honors?”
“Fuck yes I do.” I manage to pull my lighter out with one hand, roll it down the leg of my jeans and touch the flame to the top of the gasoline-soaked workbench.
The fire crawls down the table, lighting up everything in its path.
The flames are spreading up the hanging bikes to the ceiling by the time we clear the door.
I hesitate on the other side of the door, watching with satisfaction as the entire room is engulfed in flames.
Jasper grabs my shoulder again. “We gotta go, brother.”
I look around to make sure Onyx made it out. I see him running for the back fence, wearing his stuffed duffel like a backpack. Our club brothers are taking two hostages, the one I took down and the one who gave Scar another scar. Fuckers.
The rest of us haul ass for the fence, fighting our way through the Hyenas Striker told us were outside. We make it over the back fence, leaving a trail of maimed Hyenas in our wake, just as their backup comes roaring through the front gate. They’re too late and they know it.
As a group, they don’t bother chasing us. Their main concern is putting out the fire and trying to salvage what they can. I’m swinging my leg over my bike when one hapless fool comes over the fence after us.
“Nora’s ours, Rager! That property cut don’t mean shit! Stripe’s comin’ for his bride, and there ain’t a wall high enough for you to hide her behind!”
I don’t remember getting back off the bike, but I’m on him within seconds, all fists and fury. In the background, I can hear my brothers shouting my name. Then a huge arm closes around my chest, and Merc hauls me backward off the man as he walks by, without even breaking his stride.
“Not now, brother,” he says in my ear. “You’ll get your shot. Right now, we ride.”
I curse under my breath but follow him back to my bike.
On the journey back, my knuckles and the cut over my eye are both bleeding, but I can’t stop thinking of how those ignorant fucks think the woman wearing my cut is still going to be Stripe’s bride.
I’ve never lost control that way before tonight.
One word from a nobody, and my control evaporated in an instant. That should worry me more than it does.
When we get back, the clubhouse smells like biscuits.
I follow the delicious aroma to the kitchen.
Of course, my old lady is at the counter with her hands patting out dough on the counter.
There are two full pans cooling on the far end of the counter and a third she’s filling as she cuts them.
She must have come straight here from Striker’s little office once we were safely on our way.
She looks up when I enter and her eyes land on the blood on my face. She sets her biscuit cutter aside. I watch her glance back up at the wound on my forehead as she steps over to wash her hands.
“I’m glad you made it home, babe.”
“We all made it home.” Scar comes into the kitchen, grabs an ice pack out of the freezer and starts to stomp off. Then he turns, grabs a fistful of biscuits, murmuring, “Thanks, Miss Nora. Warm bread is like a little taste of home on the road, ya know?”
She smiles at him. “I do know. I’ve made enough for everyone, and it’s best eaten straight from the oven.”
He gives her a little salute and heads out towards the bar area.
I grab two biscuits off the pan, stack them bottoms-together and take a bite like it’s a sandwich. “You’re right about them being better warm.”
Nora walks up to me, takes my right hand in both of hers and turns it over, examining the split skin. I realize there’s dust from the road sticking to the blood. She doesn’t say anything at first. She just steers me to the sink and turns on the cold water.
“What happened to your hands and forehead?”
“I got into a wrangle with an outsider, who might be their cartel connection. That’s how I got this,” I say, pointing to my forehead.
“What about your knuckles? Was that the potential cartel guy too?”
I shake my head. “One of the Hyenas mouthed off on the way out. He said Stripe’s comin’ for his bride.”
She freezes for a second, before speaking. “I already told you everything about the arranged marriage, Jinx. The ring. All of it. That’s the whole reason I ran. I am not going back to him.”
“I need you to understand that in their world, you’re not just a runaway club princess. You’re stolen property. And Stripe’s the kind that comes to collect.”
She turns back to the counter. “Do you think I don’t know that?
It’s been on my mind, along with you being out in their territory where they can get to you and them spying on me with their drones.
It’s like I can’t win, no matter what I do.
And that’s why I went from making one pan of biscuits to a dozen.
More stress equals more biscuits. You can probably do the math on exactly how scared I am. ”
“I’ve got a good grasp of the biscuit math.
” I shut the water off and wrap my hand in the dish towel lying nearby.
“Hey. Look at me.” When she does, I explain calmly.
“Sneakin’ a drone over a wall is one thing, but them layin’ their hands on you is different.
There are dozens of men in this compound who’d die before they let that happen, and I’m first in line. ”
“That’s what scares me,” she says quietly. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt or killed because of me, least of all you.”
My chest aches for her because she’s afraid of losing all the people she’s gotten close to at our clubhouse. I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You’re not the reason any of us might get hurt. Your father, brothers, and Stripe are the reason. You’re just an innocent bystander in all the shitty things they do. We’d still be right where we are fightin’ for our town and our territory, even if we never met.”
She leans into my palm and shuts her eyes, and for one brief, shining moment everything is right in the world.
Then the horn at the front gate goes off, in three long blasts. My hand drops and I tell Nora, “That’s the signal for trouble at the front gate. Go to the other old ladies, keep your head down, and do what they say to stay safe until I come back.”
Without waiting for a reply, I race out the front door.
Brothers pour into the front parking lot.
By the guard shack, Merc is down on one knee over a prone body.
My stomach drops until I see him struggle to sit up.
At least he’s alive. When he looks up at us, I see that it’s Garret, the prospect who was assigned to walk the exterior perimeter tonight.
His lip is split, his nose is bloody, and one eye’s swollen shut.
He’s also cradling his arm against his ribs. Someone worked him over pretty bad.
“They caught him outside the wall on his loop,” Merc says, feeling along the kid’s arm for breaks. “This was pinned to his shirt.”
I take it. Jasper and Rock walk up and the brothers go quiet while I unfold it. The message is written in block letters with a fat marker, and it doesn’t waste a single word. I read it out loud, “Send the girl out or we’re coming in to get her.”