Chapter Sixteen
Grinder
It’s been way too fucking long since I’ve been on my bike. Seriously, like three days? It’s unacceptable. I’d go tonight but I’m fucking beat.
With Avenged Sevenfold playing on the local rock station, the grizzly sound from the old truck radio makes M. Shadow sound like he’s one cigarette away from losing his voice.
Tapping on the steering wheel to the beat of Nightmare, I groan at the vibrating phone next to my thigh. When I look down, I frown, because I just fucking left Maribel’s place.
My first thought is that Parker already burned down the place because…
not enough purple? Because the water for her tea was heated in the microwave?
I mean, Sledge would nuke this whole fucking town if he saw anyone do that so I’m guessing since his sister has the same crazy-as-fuck DNA… it’s a real possibility.
“‘Sup, Maribel? Do I need to—”
“You need to come back. Oh my God, he has a gun!” The smug smirk on my face vanishes in an instant and my foot on the gas stomps on the brake as I give a hard turn of the steering wheel.
The only reason I don’t total the truck—for the second time this week—is because it’s late, and as I make a screeching U-turn, the road is empty.
As soon as I regain control of the old beat up Ford, I push the gas pedal and grab my phone.
Driving, even at this speed and recklessness, doesn’t fucking matter.
My only focus is getting to Mirabel’s as quickly as possible.
Not knowing what the fuck to expect once I get there, I call for back up.
“Where the fuck are y—” Boner doesn’t have time to scold me about why it’s taking me so long to get back to the apartment we share.
“Get a group of guys to Maribel’s. Shit’s going down.” That’s all I need to say and I know by the time the phone’s lying on the seat and forgotten, they’ll be running to their bikes with their favorite weapons in hand.
It takes me way too fucking long to get to Mirabel’s street, like time somehow warped and it’s pushing against me.
With every second that passes, my brain is conjuring up images of Parker lying in a pool of blood.
Parker being shot. Parker getting stabbed.
Or worse, being assaulted. I won’t fucking stand for it.
We’ve had too many of our women at the compound treated like shit by worthless assholes and I won’t allow for this to happen to Parker. Fuck. That.
I don’t bother with niceties as I arrive at the safe house, instead driving the truck up the driveway and parking on the grass. I slide the baseball bat out from behind my seat and pull out the gun we always keep in the glove compartment.
A shrill scream has me running even faster inside and what I see when I rush through the door is…
What the fuck am I looking at?
“Oh, hey, Grinder.”
I blink and my gaze does a slow, stunned sweep of the carnage in front of me.
Three bodies lying on the blood-coated floor, bleeding out from various stab wounds.
A quick glance to the couch reveals a pale faced woman crouched between the armchair and the couch, her arms wrapped around her legs.
I don’t think she could make herself any smaller if she tried.
Broken shit is all over the place, pieces of glass from what looks like a retro vase litters the floor and the entire scene gives off tornado alley vibes.
Maribel is still holding her phone in hand, watching me watching her, and as if scripted in a Tarantino movie, we both look away but toward the same person.
By the time my eyes collide with her crazed and dilated green ones, I’m seriously entertaining the idea of being in love. Swinging my bat so it’s resting on my shoulder, I cock my head and grin from ear to fucking ear with pride swelling deep in my heart.
“Causin’ trouble already, Stabby?”
She shrugs and looks around at the horror movie set I just stepped into.
“They started it.”
I can’t help it, I throw my head back and laugh like the fucking lunatic I am. As I’m catching my breath, movement below me gets my undivided attention.
Bang.
I blow the finite smoke from the barrel of my gun and realize too late that, again, I’ve acted before thinking.
The screaming gave it away. The same scream I heard as I pulled up just minutes ago.
Fuck.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. I kinda forgot where I am.” My lips stretch over my teeth with a grimace. This is a battered women’s shelter. I have no business shooting my gun like a fucking neanderthal.
Although, neanderthals didn’t have guns and therefore were more civilized than I am.
“What the actual fucking fuck, Grinder?” Yeah, Bear’s about to make a necklace from my balls. This is going to hurt. Totally worth it.
“Yeah, sorry, man. I didn’t th—” Ouch! I narrow my eyes at Bear, who’s definitely in grizzly mode, his big hand slapping me upside the head, and fuck my life, it’s just so much fun fucking with him when he’s like this. “Think it’s the best idea to use violence in a shelter?”
For the briefest moment, I see the teddy bear’s eyes swimming with regret. His old lady lived here for a while after running away from sex traffickers in The Firm. We took care of those motherfuckers, but the trauma lives on, and because I’m an asshole, I’ve just triggered him. Again.
“Anybody else, they’d be six feet under.” And I believe him. But what can I say? I’m adorable and sexy, which gives me a lot of passes around here. “Now fucking apologize.”
Right. Of course.
“Maribel and…” I frown, then look at Parker for help.
“You’re on your own, you fucking psycho.” Brat.
“Someone call for me?” What the fuck is Psycho doing here? Boner really did call in for reinforcements. The Enforcer whistles but I ignore him. I have more important shit to do.
“I’m sorry.” Hopefully the woman cowering in the corner hears the sincerity in my voice.
“It was like a reflex action. He won’t be bothering you again, we promise.
” The promise was a little much since the guys are literally lying dead at our feet.
Maribel nods our way, her hair wrapped in a silk scarf, as she makes a beeline to the tenant.
Well, this is awkward as fuck. I don’t do well in these situations. Blood, gore, violence and a hard fuck with a few laughs in between, no problem. Getting in touch with my feelings is like opening a door that’s been shut for a very, very long time.
“Boner?” I call out, turning and walking out the door to meet him. On my way out, Shade is walking in with Hoops. Damn, is the entire fucking club here?
“What happened?” Hoops interrupts whatever he was saying to Shade and lifts his chin, addressing me.
“No fucking clue, Prez. I’m getting the prospects to clean this shit up.” He nods, then eyes my baseball bat, shaking his head with a smirk on his face. He knows me so well. “Didn’t even get to use it.”
“‘Sup?” Boner greets me, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He takes a drag then hands it to Jonesy. “You sounded spooked, man, so I woke everyone up. I think Psycho may actually kill me in my sleep.”
I shrug. Chances are high. “I’ll bury you with your porn.”
“Thanks,” he deadpans and I grin.
“What are besties for?” I slap him on the shoulder and look around.
“Gather up the prospects, we need this to be clean before sunrise.” It’s a tall order, I know, but we can’t have the police involved.
No fucking way am I taking a chance on Parker going to jail.
The stand your ground law is firmly in place in North Carolina, and since Parker is a tenant at the house, she wouldn’t have any problems. However… I don’t fucking care.
Someone needs to tell the scared woman that nothing happened and she can now live her life without the fear of being attacked by her…whoever it is that wanted to cause her harm.
No fucking way is Parker paying for saving their lives. Not on my fucking watch.
“I thought it was self-defense?” Boner takes another drag from the cigarette and talks through the inhale.
“It was.” I don’t look him in the eye because I don’t need any shit from him.
“So? No one’s gonna bat an eye. That there’s Maribel’s castle. She ain’t gettin’ jammed up.”
“It wasn’t Maribel. It was Parker.” Leaning on the bat with the Beretta in my other hand, I lower my head and purse my lips, knowing damn well Boner’s about to fuck with me. I mean, I would if I were in his shoes so, fair.
“Ah, gotcha. Now it makes sense.” It’s all he says and I blow out a slow breath of relief.
“Is Parker that new chick?” My head snaps up, my eyes narrowed at Jonesy. I’m not even sure why I’m reacting like this. Parker is the new chick. Woman. She’s the new woman.
“She’s off limits.” Shit. Did I just growl? Hells yeah. That was definitely me channeling a mixture of Psycho and Bear. Fuckin’ A. I’d high five myself if it didn’t mean getting shit from my brothers.
Jonesy raises his hands in surrender, his eyes tiny slits like he’s either half asleep or fully baked.
As a prospect, I could give him shit for that.
They’re supposed to be at our beck and call and fully functional, but I’ll let it slide.
Mostly because I don’t give a fuck. That kind of shit is the problem of more responsible members like Bear or Sledge.
Boner just laughs and laughs and laughs. Fuck that guy.
“Get this shit cleaned up!” His response to my order? Two middle fingers.
This is why we’re best friends.
Jogging to the truck just a few feet away, I drop off the bat and check the safety on the gun before storing it in the glove box, where it belongs.
Then I’m off, returning to the house. As soon as I step across the threshold, something nags at me.
Hoops and Shade are in the kitchen and I can only see a sliver of them through the opening between here and there.
Parker is sitting across from the woman she saved, talking low and looking as awkward as I felt earlier.