Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Booker
I shove my spare helmet onto Kendall’s head and tighten the strap.
My fingers linger on her jaw for a second before I swing my leg over, sit on the saddle, flip up the kickstand, and push the starter button.
“Hold on tight,” I instruct her. “Don’t let go no matter what happens.
” Burying her face into my jacket, she nods.
The engine roars to life, sending a deep vibration through the frame and settling into my chest.
I twist the throttle and we tear away from the building just as the world behind us erupts.
A massive bloom of orange flame paints the sky, and the shockwave slams into our backs a heartbeat later.
The handlebars twitch under my hands, but I wrestle the bike straight until the tires bite the pavement.
I don't look back. There’s nothing for us in that fire.
We ride until the road straightens into open blacktop. I cut the power, letting us coast into the gravel shoulder near an old, rusted signpost. We skid to a halt in the dark. The silence swallows us, broken only by the tick of the cooling engine. I plant my boots and steady the machine.
Kendall doesn’t let go. She leans her forehead against my back, her breathing shaky through the leather of my jacket. I reach back and cover her hand with mine, feeling the fine tremor in her fingers.
“You're okay now,” I say, my voice raspy. “It’s over.”
She shifts, pressing closer as if she’s trying to disappear into me. “It happened so fast,” she murmurs. “I really thought we were going to be stuck there forever.”
“I wasn't going to let that happen,” I reply. “I made a promise to you, and I will never break my word.”
We sit in the dark, watching the road behind us. I scan the shadows, waiting for the distinct thrum of the others catching up. I’m not relaxing until I see the rest of my brothers roll into view, but having her here, alive and breathing against me, makes the wait a hell of a lot easier to bear.
The quiet night is broken by the swelling roar of incoming motorcycles, transforming from a faint murmur to an intense rumble. I remain on guard until my brothers' recognizable silhouettes emerge from the darkness. Coasting onto the shoulder, they pull up and smoothly kick down their kickstands.
My focus shifts to Ozzie, and I can't help the chuckle that bubbles up in my throat. Branson is clinging to the back of Ozzie’s bike like he’s trying to merge with the seat’s fabric.
He looks absolutely ridiculous, his limbs awkward and stiff, while Ozzie revs the engine just to make him jolt.
Branson’s face is a mixture of pure terror and indignation, his knuckles white where he grips the backrest. Ozzie just grins back at him, clearly enjoying the hell out of the man’s discomfort.
It is the most absurd sight I’ve seen all night.
“Careful back there,” Ozzie yells over the engine noise, glancing back with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Don't want to lose the cargo.”
Branson makes a strangled noise as he shakes his head. “Just keep us on the pavement, man. I actually want to live.”
“Take it easy, princess,” Ozzie chuckles while he hits the kill switch. “You're basically one of us now.”
Shade's practically hyperventilating from laughing so hard while he leans over his bike. When he finally catches his breath, he looks over at us. “The moment Ozzie hit high gear, he popped a wheelie. Branson went white as a sheet. It was hilarious.”
I see how different our lives are, and the lingering tension in my chest finally drifts away. It's a welcome distraction after everything we just survived.
I feel Kendall trembling against my back. Before I can turn around to check on her, her laughter rings out through the quiet night. “Cut him some slack, guys. He's a computer geek, his version of a wild time is cracking code.”
Slayer cuts off our teasing with a piercing whistle.
“Ozzie, you and Shade get Branson back to his family. The guys already moved them to the Seven Points safehouse, and Splicer bandaged them up and gave them the all-clear.” Turning to Branson, he adds, “He gave them something to rest, and I’ll have a prospect posted outside to watch the house, so don’t be startled if you hear him tonight.
We’ll get supplies sent over tomorrow to stock the kitchen.
You’re safe now, and no one is left to hurt you. ”
“I appreciate it, man,” Branson replies, his voice tight with choked-back tears. It must be an immense weight off his shoulders to know that the people he cares about are finally out of harm’s reach and can no longer be used as leverage against him.
Ozzie salutes us as he and Shade ride off, leaving a skeleton crew of me and Slayer to head back to the clubhouse. “Ready to go see your boy, Kendall?”
“Yes!” she shouts over the wind.
Slayer twists his throttle and his bike surges ahead with a roar. I match his speed. The countryside blurs into a mess of grays and blacks. The wind bites at us but I barely notice, my focus stays locked on the road and the woman tight against me.
“Hang on,” I yell through our helmets.
She’s already holding my cut like she’s scared I might vanish without a trace if she lets go.
We lean into the winding backroads. Moonlight spills across the asphalt but I don’t give it much thought.
It’s quiet out here compared to the chaos we just left.
My heartbeat finally slows down and begins to beat in a steady rhythm.
Slayer waves for a turn and we pull onto the gravel drive. The clubhouse emerges ahead, a solid shape in the dark. As we park in the front, I kill the engine and say, “Home.”
She shifts against me, her voice soft over the engine hum. “Is he really in there?”
“Waiting for you, Kendall,” I promise. “You’re going to be together.”
She begins fumbling with the chin straps of her helmet, trying to rip free from it but her fingers get tangled and she huffs.
Chuckling, I twist and start to unlatch it for her.
“Patience, Kendall. He’s not going anywhere.
” I leave off the thought about her sticking around for good too.
That’s a talk for another time, once the dust finally settles and she sees her boy.
I lift the helmet off her head, setting it aside on the tank. Her hair falls loose, framing her face in the dim light. She blinks, getting used to the sudden change in the atmosphere. Her eyes dart toward the clubhouse door, hunger and desperation etched into every line of her expression.
“He’s inside,” I confirm, hopping off the bike. I reach up and take her hand, pulling her toward the entrance. We reach the heavy duty door, and I push it open. A blast of cold air from the air conditioner hits us in the face, cooling off our heated bodies.
Kolter is sitting in the worn leather chair by the front window.
His knees are pulled up to his chest, and he’s staring at nothing.
When the door clicks shut behind us, he jerks his head up.
He freezes when he sees her. The room goes deadly quiet.
He drops his feet, standing up slow like he’s afraid she’s just a dream that will disappear if he moves too fast.
“Mom?” he breathes, his voice barely making it out of his throat.
Kendall lets out a sound that is half sob and half gasp. She doesn’t wait for him to come to her. She crosses the room in three quick strides. They crash into each other, his small arms wrapping tight around her waist while she buries her face in his neck.
I stand by the door, feeling like an outsider peeking into something private. It is hard to watch without getting a lump in my throat. I see the tension drain out of her shoulders as she holds him. They look like they’ve been waiting a lifetime for this moment.
“I’m here,” she murmurs into his hair, her hands shaking as she rubs his back. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I promise.” She turns her head, our eyes meet and she mouths the words, “Thank you.”
I give Kendall a quick nod and a wink before turning back toward the bar, wanting to give them some space to breathe and reconnect without a crowd of bikers tracking their every move.
My brothers seem to have the same thought, turning away or finding work needing to be done so they don't look like intruders during such a charged moment.
Slayer is already there, perched on a stool with a bottle in his hand. I slide onto the seat next to him and grab a cold beer from the bucket behind the counter. The condensation feels like ice against my palms, and I take a long pull, letting the bitterness wash away the grit in my throat.
“You doing okay?” he asks, his voice low enough that it doesn't carry across the room. He doesn't look at me, just keeps his eyes on the label of his drink. “That was a hell of a lot of weight to carry on one ride.”
I lean back against the bar and exhale a long breath I feel like I've been holding since we first breached that perimeter.
“It's done,” I say, glancing back toward the area where Kendall is still clutching her boy.
“That's the only thing that matters. Seeing them together like that, it makes the rest of the noise disappear.
I didn't know if we'd actually pull it off without someone catching a bullet, but they're safe now.”
He nods and taps his bottle against mine with a soft clink. “You did right by them, Booker. Get some shut-eye when you're able. There's still trash to haul away before this whole thing is behind us.”
My thoughts drift to the Dallas syndicate and the threat my brother thinks they still pose to the Kings.
I lean toward Slayer and give him snippets of the conversation I had with Kendall before we were raided and made our move.
“I talked to Kendall,” I tell him. “She’s certain they aren’t coming after us.
The intel she fed them points in a different direction.
They believe the councilwoman, Patrick, and Jerome are the ones who duped them.
That puts the target squarely on those three. We’re off the hook.”
He grunts, a curt sound of approval. “Good. Let them tear each other apart. It saves us the trouble.”
“Except the only ones they have a chance of getting their hands on is the councilwoman since we have Patrick and Jerome in the catacombs,” I point out.
“But they don’t know that,” he counters.
“And hopefully, they never do,” I muse.