47. Get Your Gun Out Of My Son’s Face
Get Your Gun Out Of My Son’s Face
Arlo
T he smell of the Indian food in my hand has my stomach growling as I walk toward the building. I make a mental note to take some Indian cooking classes when the dust settles for Bree and me.
As I reach the door, though, the bag of food falls to the floor, and I rush inside and up the stairs. The door was open, wedged by Bree’s sweater, and I already know she dropped it there to tell me something was wrong.
My apartment door is open as well, and Beans has curled himself into a tight ball on the floor. He lifts his head to look at me, his eyes wide and worried, and the fact that he’s still breathing is the only saving grace of this moment because right then, it hits me full force. She’s gone.
Her cell is still on the table playing her music, and her sneakers are still by the door. I grab a gun from a cabinet drawer and pulling out my phone, I head for the stairwell and fire off a text to Mrs. C.
Me : I need you to get Beans from my place.
I don’t add anything more. I don’t have the time as I pull up the tracking app to see where Bree is, and those fancy earrings I bought her let me know two things: she’s still got a pulse, and she’s still moving.
Pressing the navigate button on the app, I start toward my truck, considering the ground I need to make up, and I know it isn’t fast enough. I need my fucking bike.
With one look toward the shop and the huge window to the customer waiting room, I fire off one more text to Calista, knowing she's about to get alerting to the alarms going off at the shop.
Me : Sorry, C!
Then I pick up the potted tree Cali put outside to soften the place up, and throw it through the glass, shattering it immediately.
I pounce through the window and rush to the Harley, finding the keys on the wall and rolling it forward off the ramp and to the shutters, pressing the button to open them. I connect my phone to the mount on the handlebars and ignore the message I see come in from Cali, and the minute I have enough of a gap, I start the bike and go. I have to get to Bree.
Following the GPS navigation, I find myself on a dirt road that’s pitch black, and I don’t like it. The tracker has stopped moving, and I know I’m closing in on her, but I’m suddenly aware of the noise from the Harley. It’s fucking loud and out here, there’s nothing drowning out the sound.
I pull over, climb off the bike and grab my phone, turning on the flashlight app as I head in the direction of the red dot on my screen.
When I get closer, I start to hear voices and see lights, so I turn off my flashlight. I can’t see a fucking thing and have no idea what I’m walking into, but I need to get to her.
I feel my way through the thick brush that surrounds what looks like an old cottage and the lights on the outside of the building allow me to see what I’m dealing with.
Four men, no, make that six as two more approach, all in Bone Roses MC leather jackets or cuts, patrol the outside of the cottage, all of them visibly armed, none of them familiar to me until number seven walks up and my blood boils under my skin.
Horse. Vice President of the club stands with his hand on his weapon, giving orders to the other men, and I want to rain hellfire on them, on him, because the red flashing dot that is the woman I love is in that cottage. My hand comes to my weapon before I steady my thoughts. Going in there now is a suicide mission, and I’m no good to Bree if I’m dead. I need to be smart, and I need to understand what the fuck is going on.
The club protects the Campbells, always , so this makes no sense.
I try to assess the danger that Bree is in and remember that Nolan thinks he loves her, and he’s convinced they’re supposed to be together. She’s too smart to piss him off, so I have to trust, hope, that he won’t hurt her. Trusting the man who just kidnapped my girl seems fucking stupid, but if I go in there alone, there's no chance I come out with Bree, I probably won't come out still breathing and that doesn't help her. I need to call in some help and get some answers.
Pulling into the compound shouldn’t feel this familiar after all these years. The last time I was here, I’d just gotten out of prison. I was twenty-eight, pretty much my entire twenties had been spent behind bars, and this was the only home I had on the outside.
I’d been welcomed back, handed drinks and women, and given a place to clean up and rest before I had to make a choice.
I made the decision to leave for good, and it was clear that returning to this place wasn’t an option for me after that, but I have no other option today.
Hopping off my bike, I storm toward the gate.
‘Open up,’ I call out to be met with hard stares and hands reaching behind backs for weapons I know are concealed there. I reach for my own in case this goes south.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ The guy on the gate grins, amused at my balls as I get close.
‘Open the fucking gate.’ I don’t have time for this shit. ‘I need to see Viking.’
‘Yeah, and I need to see Megan fucking Fox, but that ain’t happening either. Get back on your bike while I’m still letting you walk away.’
‘Open the fucking gate,’ I snarl, and the Glock that was in the back of his jeans is now pointing straight at my face. I stare it and him down.
‘Dean, open the gate.’ The strong, serious voice I haven’t heard in so long has my attention lifting from the kid with the attitude to the man behind him. ‘And get your gun out of my son’s face.’
I watch as confusion and fear descend over the young guy’s features as he looks from his president to me and opens the gate. I glare as I pass and approach the man giving the orders.
‘We had a deal, Arlo.’ His tattooed arms cross over his broad chest and eyes as blue as mine take me in.
‘I know,’ I nod, ‘but we need to talk . Now .’
‘You’ve been gone a long time, kid, but in case you’ve forgotten, I’m still the one calling the shots around here.’
I step closer, noticing the uncomfortable shuffling of the guys and women around us as they wonder what’s about to go down and if they need to act. Lowering my voice so only he can hear me, I ask the question that’s eating me up.
‘If that’s the case, old man, you want to tell me why your VP just helped kidnap Miles Campbell’s daughter?’
Confusion, rage, and a million other emotions twist my dad’s expression, and he glances left and right at the men he trusts with his life. I see the moment he decides this is a conversation we need to have in private, and he turns, walking away as I follow, muscle memory of shadowing the man for the first two decades of my life kicking in.
He leads me into the chapel, a room used to discuss club dealings, and I inhale deeply. It’s the same. The walls are a bit more yellowed, the chairs a bit more worn, but it’s the same room where I told my father I’d made my decision and we wouldn’t be a part of each other’s lives anymore.
It’s been twelve years since we saw each other, and we didn’t part on bad terms. I had the choice to stay or go, and I chose to go, but that meant cutting ties. It hurt us both, but we were both raised in this life, and we both knew we’d stick to the rules. That’s why the surprise on his face is so evident today. He never expected to see me again.
‘What’s this about, kid?’ he asks, and he sounds tired. If I wasn’t so on edge, I’d laugh. Kid… I’m thirty-nine years old.
‘Bree’s been taken. I need to get her back.’
‘What does this have to do with the club? With Horse?’ He doesn’t hesitate to push back even though I know he wants to raise hell at the mention of Miles, his best friend, his brother, but I knew it was going to be a tough sell.
‘She was being stalked. Mrs. C asked me to help. Two nights ago, a couple of fucks in br cuts trashed my place, burned my bike, and tonight, they took her.’
I feel my body shaking as rage ignites inside of me.
‘You’re mistaken, Arlo. You know I wouldn’t…’
‘Then explain why your fuckin’ VP is guarding the place where she’s being held.’
‘Don’t you raise your voice in my house.’ He stands from the table, and I look up at the man I respected and feared all my childhood. He’s as big as me, still clearly in good shape, and could still kick my ass, but I don’t give a fuck. Standing to my full height, I stare him down as I slide my cell across the table. The photos I snapped of his guys outside the cottage are blurry but clear enough to make them out.
Viking picks up the phone but doesn’t say a word as his nostrils flare and his jaw tightens.
‘You told me to stay away from the kid, Dad, but I didn’t. I fell in love with her, and now they have her, and I can’t go in there alone. Not with them armed and patrolling.’
My dad’s fist slams against the table, and he roars in anger as he stands, his chair pushing back. He’s furious, and I can see the impact of the betrayal in the set of his shoulders and the expression on his face, but I don’t have time for his feelings. I stand. ‘You going to help me or not, dad?’
‘I need to figure out who the fuck I can trust.’ I’ve never heard my father sound so despondent, but I don’t have time for that from him. I need him to be Viking, president of the Bone Roses MC, the angry, dangerous mother fucker I know and love.
‘Then do it fast.’
As we walk out into the common area once more, I fall back, letting him take the lead as he pulls out his weapon and shoots the huge TV mounted on the wall, silencing the loud movie action scene that was playing.
‘ Anyone who isn’t patched, get the fuck out.’
He turns to me as the girls and prospects and hangarounds make quick work of vacating the premises, and I nod. I may not be patched now, but I was, and I’m going fucking nowhere.
‘Listen the fuck up and listen good because if I have to repeat myself, I’m going to get real fucking angry.’ There he is. ‘Miles Campbell’s daughter has been kidnapped.’ There’s a rumble as the men surrounding us stand ready to act, and my dad nods. ‘Your reactions speak volumes, but I’m not done. If I find out a single one of you knew this was happening or had anything to do with it, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what I’ll do to you, and my advice is to start running right the fuck now because when I find you, I’ll make you bleed for a week before I let you die.’
‘Prez, what the fuck? We would never…’
‘Horse is involved. The guys who rode with him tonight are, too.’
A chorus of ‘What the fucks’ ring out as my dad raises his gun and shoots the speaker to the left of the TV he destroyed earlier, just to get their attention.
‘Most of you don’t know my son,’ he gestures to me, ‘get familiar real fast. This is Arlo, and he needs us to ride with him tonight to get his girl back. Wrecker, my father, made a promise to Miles Campbell that this club would protect his family. I intend to honor that promise, even if it means putting down men I thought were my brothers. I need to know who of you I can trust to ride with us tonight. If you’re not okay with what’s going to go down, you can walk out of those gates and keep walking. If you’re with me, step forward.’
Without hesitation, every man in the room takes a step forward, and as my dad picks out the men he wants with us and assigns control to one of the guys staying behind, my heart pounds in my chest at the memory of how it felt to be a part of this, the brotherhood, the unity.
‘Let’s go.’
Climbing onto the Harley, I wait for the men to join me out front when my dad comes to a stop beside me.
‘That yours?’ He looks at the bike, and I nod.
‘It is tonight.’
‘Dome?’ he questions, and I shake my head, so he reaches behind him to call up a spare and hands it to me. When I’ve secured the helmet, he gives me a satisfied nod, and I take a breath. ‘Let’s go, kid.’
Riding out from the club, flanked by my dad and men I once would have considered my family feels fucking surreal. If I weren’t so scared that I could lose Bree tonight, I’d let myself enjoy it, but getting her back is the only thing that matters.
The plan is simple. We’ll come to a stop a way out like I did earlier, going in on foot so the noise of the bikes doesn’t alert them and cause any of them to do something fucking stupid. My dad and his guys will take care of Horse and his so I can get in, take out Nolan, and get Bree.
I’m going to kill the son of a bitch today regardless, but the state Bree comes back to me in will determine how much I make it hurt.
Taking the lead, I turn. The eleven bikes behind me follow, and knowing how close we are, my blood pumps with adrenaline. The red dot on the tracker still pumps, which means she still has a pulse, and that keeps me steady. If that ever stops, every person in a hundred-mile radius better take cover because I will bring hell on earth if anything happens to her.
Slowing as we hit the dirt road, I signal with my hand for everyone to pull over, and in perfect formation, they all turn to the right, coming to a stop.
‘This is it?’ my dad asks quietly, and I nod, yes.
‘Through those trees. It’s dark,’ I warn, ‘really fucking dark and unsteady. You’re going to have to feel your way through once you get closer. Once you can see their lights, they’ll be able to see yours.’
The men all nod, check their weapons, and start to follow me through the trees.