Chapter 8 Gage
It’s too fucking quiet. I notice as soon as I leave my room. Palming my gun, I try to assure myself since I left my other weapon with Letty. She’s smart. I know if her life is on the line, she’ll use it.
But I’m hoping it won’t come to that.
The skin on the back of my neck is prickling with awareness, and my gut is telling me that shit is fucked up right now.
I move with methodical, slow steps, staying alert.
The barrel points ahead of me, and I hold it steady, already aware that I’ll have to use it before I ever pull back on the trigger.
Instinct takes over. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to defend myself against a lethal attack or raise arms to protect my brothers.
I’ve fought the Crimson Heretics, a rival club, more times than I can count.
It’s also not the first time I’ll choose my life over some asshole who’s looking to prove a point or thinks he’s got the bigger dick. I’m gonna win every time.
When I round the corner, I survey the bar. It’s nearly empty. A few people are crouched. It’s two of the club girls, a hanger-on, and a wounded prospect. Ryker presses his hand against his abdomen as I scan the perimeter and rush to his side.
“You okay?” I ask, crouching low, and wondering how bad he’s hit.
Why the fuck is it so goddamn quiet?
“It’s not bad,” he lies as he groans. “Storm is hit. Not sure who else.”
Storm? What the fuck?
“Tell me where the Crimson Heretics took him.”
He shakes his head. “Not the Heretics.”
I’m confused. Who else would dare to attack the Grid Iron? Fuck. Ryker looks pale. I think he’s losing too much blood. “Who?” I growl.
“Your father.”
I swear my body stills and my blood runs cold as I process his words. My father. How the fuck did I miss this? “You fucking kidding me? How? Who’s with him?”
“Don’t know. Never saw the fuckers before.” Ryker’s eyes flutter, and he fucking passes out.
I turn to the club girls. “Come over here and put pressure on his wound. Call 9-1-1.”
They both stare at me. Yeah, calling this in will bring heat on the club. I know this, but I can’t let Ryker die either. If multiple members are wounded, we need help.
We’ll figure out how to spin the truth once Storm and the rest of the club are stable. I’ve got no love for the law, but I can admit when we’re in over our heads. Besides, if I can pin this shit on Mifflin, then he’ll go to prison for this.
And maybe I can find a way to get my revenge.
The girls aren’t moving.
“Do it,” I snarl.
The redhead, Ruby, nods. She moves toward Ryker and presses on his stomach, helping slow the blood loss. The other one, a blonde, dials emergency services.
I don’t stick around; I move fast and stay low. I’ve got no idea where anyone is and why I never heard any gunshots. Was I that fucking distracted? The truth? Yeah.
Being buried in Letty’s pussy was fucking heaven and pulled me from my surroundings. I didn’t hear shit, probably because I slept deeply with her wrapped around me.
I exit the bar and turn down the hall that leads to Storm’s office. The door is open. It’s unusual. He keeps it closed so he can relax and not deal with bullshit. I’ve heard him say it more than once.
My body tenses, alert, and I know what I find in Storm’s office will piss me off. I force myself to breathe and remain calm. I keep my hands steady as I move toward the doorway. Somehow, I know Storm is in there, and he’s not alone. I’ve got to be smart about this.
There’s no point in avoiding the inevitable. I know Mifflin won’t kill me. He’s a vindictive bastard. He’ll want retribution first. Bloodshed. Pain. I know because that’s also how I deal with my enemies.
Somewhere in the last two years, he’s become one of them.
It still surprises me that the infamous Blade brothers don’t get involved in family matters. They keep to their own slice of the collective pie, which means I can’t go to any of my uncles for help. But this changes everything.
Bear, our VP, will be out for blood. Mifflin is his fucking brother. This is a betrayal the club won’t stand for either.
It’s fucked up. My uncle Bear is a brute. He enforces club law and doesn’t give a shit that Bullseye and I are family. We get the same treatment as any of the brothers in the club. We fuck up, and we’re held accountable. Bullseye and I accepted it when we patched in.
Mifflin just made a colossal mistake. He’ll find that out soon enough.
I move to the doorway and stand in front of it, keeping watch both inside and outside the room. “Hello, Mifflin.”
He’s aiming a gun at Storm’s head. Blood soaks into the white shirt my pres is wearing.
He’s got a wound in his right shoulder. There’s another on his left thigh.
Crimson stains the denim. He’s a little pale, but his gaze stays focused on Mifflin.
His palm rests on his thigh, and I can see he’s pressing on his wound.
Why am I the only club member here? Where’s Smoke and Bear? There’s no way my father orchestrated this shit on his own. If Storm wasn’t injured, he’d already have Mifflin on the ground with a bullet in his brain.
“Good of you to join us, son.”
I won’t trade words with him and fluff his ego. “What do you want?”
“It’s too late for that. The Vipers have fucked with my shipments for the last time.”
Shipments? I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. My gaze shifts to Storm. He blinks.
“I already told him he’s got shit wrong,” Storm grunts.
“You’re an idiot,” I tell my father. “If the Vipers wanted shit to happen, we wouldn’t be hiding it. Think who stands to gain something from pitting us against one another.”
The Crimson Heretics, sure. Who else?
Mifflin shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. We’re going to take a little walk. Drop your gun on the desk, Gage.”
Fuck. I don’t have a choice unless I want to shoot Mifflin and take the chance that he might kill me, then Storm.
I listen, placing my gun on the desk and moving back outside the door. Storm is steady on his feet as he rises, taking slow steps toward me. When we’re both in the hall, I realize we’re no longer alone. My father’s bodyguards are waiting.
I made the right choice not to shoot Mifflin. My fingers twitch as the urge pulses through me. I hate that he’s in control, but it won’t last long.
Two additional guns point at us as we lead the way outside the clubhouse.
That’s when I notice the rest of the club on their knees.
They’ve been placed in a long line, hands behind their heads.
Like this is an execution. Murderous expressions focus on Mifflin and the guards. We’ll spill blood before this is over.
The sun is starting to rise. Purple and blue hues mix with the stars as the sky brightens. Mifflin attacked us when we’d be most vulnerable. Smart, but reckless.
This shouldn’t have happened. We got lax. Too confident. None of us believed Mifflin was this fucking bold, and that includes me. I underestimated my father, but that won’t happen again. I’ll find a way to make sure he pays for this.
Bear glances at Mifflin. I can see the hate in his eyes as he stares at his brother. They’ve never been close. I don’t know the whole story, but there’s bad blood between them. It goes way back to when they were young, and Bear’s young wife died.
My uncle cuts his gaze to Storm and me, watching, tensing, as he sees his president shoved to the ground. Blood still soaks into Storm’s clothes. He needs a doctor.
That 9-1-1 call had better bring help soon. I’m just waiting on the sirens to confirm it.
Storm growls at the bodyguards, cold fury reflected in his gaze. Even injured, the promise of death lingers in his eyes, and every member here will spill the blood of our enemies without hesitation, the second he orders it.
Two guards hold me, gripping my arms tight enough that I struggle, but I can’t get loose. “You bastard!” I snarl.
Mifflin laughs. “You’re no son to me. Take your place with the rest of the trash.”
Another guard approaches and swings his fist. The punch knocks the wind out of me as it slams into my stomach.
More hits follow. I can’t do shit other than kick and struggle.
When a right hook connects with my jaw, I feel the copper tang of blood in my mouth.
My head lolls as they drop me beside Storm.
It takes every bit of strength I have left not to groan.
Bear yells at Mifflin, calling him a coward. He taunts and threatens my father, but the asshole remains unaffected.
Sirens finally echo in the distance, long before the red and blue lights alert us. I smile at my father and spit blood from my mouth, pushing up from the ground. Pain shoots through my torso as my lungs nearly seize, but I ignore it.
Storm wavers beside me and falls over. He’s too fucking pale. Bear growls. Members start to move, rising from their feet despite the loaded guns aimed at us.
And that’s when all hell breaks loose.
Gunfire erupts as I force myself to my feet. Vipers attack the bodyguards. I know we’re going to lose members, but we’ll take out as many of these motherfuckers as we can first. It’s fucking chaos. Blood splatters the ground. Carnage erupts.
But my focus is on my father. He won’t get a chance to run. I push to my feet and tackle him before he can pull the trigger on the gun he’s aiming at Storm. We hit the ground hard, and I lift my fist, breaking his nose as I connect with his face.
I feel a punch to my ribs, and they scream in protest, but I don’t hesitate to fight with every bit of rage I feel. Mifflin won’t find mercy from me. If there’s one thing I know, it’s his determination and brutality. He won’t give any to me either.
The sirens grow louder, and I know we’ve got seconds before police swarm the compound. I can’t let Mifflin go to jail. I’ve got to ensure he’s no longer a problem. To save my club and Letty, I make a choice that seals my fate.
My hand closes around the knife I pull from my cut, and I stick him in the side, feeling the sharp blade sink between his ribs. I yank it out and stab again, and again until I know he won’t survive the wounds. Sticky, slippery blood coats my fingers as I watch the life slowly drain from his eyes.
Shock briefly flashes across his face before his mouth goes slack. He tries to talk, but nothing comes out. He won’t torment me, Cynthia, Letty, or anyone else ever again. His reign is over.
I roll away from him and wince when I feel something pinch my side. I’m flat on my bike, struggling to breathe. It doesn’t make sense. I lower my hand, and my fingers feel the knife handle.
Fuck. He stuck me too. I never felt it, too lost in the moment and flooded with adrenaline.
People are yelling. Cops order all of us to drop our weapons. The blade I used to kill my father is still clenched in my hand. I toss it away from me, no longer needing it.
The sky decides to open up, and raindrops pelt my face. I blink as they increase in frequency until it’s a downpour. We’re being cleansed from the bloodbath that has just occurred. Like whatever god exists is giving us a fresh start.
Paramedics rush toward us. I hear someone with an authoritative tone say the scene is secure.
I try to roll over to prevent drowning in the rain when I remember the knife in my side.
I yank it free, pressing my fingers to the wound.
I’ve never felt this kind of pain. It’s like my side is on fire, and I groan.
I almost lose consciousness.
The paramedics try to stabilize me as I see people with dark blue jackets gathering around. They’re questioning and separating everyone. FBI is boldly lettered on their backs, indicating this isn’t random.
Well, fuck.
Storm won’t be happy. I see him on a stretcher. He’s loaded into the back of an ambulance as Bear rushes inside with him. My mind struggles to comprehend everything around me. All I want is to see Letty. I need to know she’s safe.
When I hear her cry out my name, I blink and try to sit up. The paramedic pushes me back down against the grass.
“Stay still. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
But I don’t fucking care. “Letty!” Despite my struggles, I don’t have the strength to fight off the two medics keeping me on the ground.
An FBI agent is escorting her away from the scene. As I watch my girl exit through the gate, I see her mother waiting. Cynthia’s look of disgust sweeps over the lot. I know the moment she notices the sheet draped over Mifflin’s body. A smile forms on her lips.
Wait.
Is she the one who called the FBI? Was she working with them all along?
FUCK!
Her gaze falls on me. I see a loathing that shocks me. What the fuck have I done to deserve that? Mifflin was the fucking problem, not me.
The FBI agent forces Letty into the car as she tries to run back to me. Cynthia joins her, and the door shuts. All I can do is watch as the car pulls away from the curb.
This feels intentional. Permanent.
Letty’s gone.
Swept away to a place that I can’t follow.
I know it even as my blood continues to seep into the bandage slapped over my wound. I’ve lost Letty. And this time, I can’t do shit about it.