18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Sunny
Ican’t believe this. It’s my fault. I mistakenly thought Bubbles was as dumb as she looks. Turns out looks can be very deceiving.
“You sure this is going to work?” a male voice says from outside the trunk.
Wait, Split? What the actual hell, dude! I told him his toilet cleaning was top notch to make him feel better about getting the shit job. Well, fuck him. He wasn’t that good at prospecting anyway.
“Do you trust me, baby?” Bubbles' nasally voice breaks through the thin metal separating us.
“Of course I do! I love you.”
Oh, you sweet summer child idiot.
“Then be a good boy and do as I say. We don’t want to make Mr. Crowe mad.”
I stiffen at the name. Crowe? What the hell is going on? I would have figured these idiots were selling me out to the Wolves.
“Now get that bitch out of the car so we can hand her over,” Bubbles says before banging on the trunk startles the shit outta me. “Hear that, bitch?” Bubbles cackles and thumps and I’m chomping at the bit for this trunk to open. “You’re mine now.”
She thumps one last time, and then I think I hear something that sounds like macaroni being stirred in a pot. I shudder because I have a feeling it's less macaroni and more Bubbles tongue down Split’s throat. Gross.
There’s some scratching then the distinctive sound of a lock being turned.
Gripping my knife, I get my legs arranged as much under me as I can, hoping I’m athletic enough to get the momentum I need to attack.
Hopefully Split. I already know I can take Bubbles, but the prospect is lean and lanky, with a much longer reach than me.
Light breaks through the crack in the trunk, fresh air hitting me. I don’t wait. I shove the trunk open with one hand, my other slashing and jabbing as I bounce up as planned.
“Argh, fuck!”
I manage to slash Split across the face, then drive forward, my knife hitting something hard in his chest. No matter, I recoil quickly, going for another body part. I don’t even care that Bubbles is screaming like a banshee, arms windmilling wildly, as if that will stop me.
“You bitch!” she squeals when Split stumbles back and I slash her raised hands.
“What the fuck did you two expect? Shit!” I yell at the top of my lungs, adrenaline on an all time high as I jump out of the trunk, landing on the concrete before them.
“Fuck, baby, she got me,” Split huffs, holding his hand over his side.
With any luck I hit his appendix and now whatever the fuck germs live in there are leaking into him. I’m not sure if that's exactly how it works, I pretended I had the poops when Mom taught that lesson.
The cocking of a gun has me freezing in place. “You continue to surprise me, Sunny Richards.”
A shiver skitters down my spine, and I don’t need to turn around to know who the voice belongs to. Expensive cigar smoke billows around me and I school my features, before looking over my shoulder.
“Amos Crowe.”
A grin splits his thin face, pulling the skin taut across his cheeks.
“Ah, so you do remember me.”
“Nope.” I reply, popping the “p”.
His gaze lingers on me for a little too long, before he shakes himself out of whatever messed up thought is in his head. “I remember you, Sunny Richards.” He takes a step closer and I stand my ground.
Split and Bubbles don’t. They back right up, wounds forgotten until Amos Crowe snaps his fingers at them.
“Tell the Wolves it’s time. Sunny and I are going to have a little chat.” He gives them a goddamned finger wave, then shoos them.
His measured steps echo through the crappy garage, the exact opposite of that idiot Bubbles, her high heels frantically clacking as she follows Split out of the garage.
My attention snaps back to Amos Crowe now standing a foot away. He’s dressed in a pinstripe dark suit with shiny, pointy shoes, and, is that, a heel? I can’t contain my snort, taking pleasure in the irritation that flashes in his eyes.
“Something funny?”
“You’re just a little guy, ain't ya? I goad.
“Oh, I’m the biggest, baddest mother fucker you’ll ever meet.” He moves closer. “Do you know why I chose you?” he asks, head tilted, looking at me in a way that sends a shiver up my spine.
“Because I’m a big, bad motherfucker?” I throw his words back at him.
He laughs, shaking his head, “No. I chose you because you don’t fear me.
” He stares at me intently. “Yet.” He starts pacing in front of me.
No, pacing isn’t quite the word for it. He’s not nervous.
No anxiety in the way he holds himself. He marches, his movements controlled.
“Sunny Maria Richards.” Ugh, he full-named me.
“Eldest child of Warrick John Richards and Maria Ana Richards of 42 Carston Way. Sister to River, Brooks, Forrest and Marigold.” He tilts his head a moment, his mouth resembling what he probably thinks is a polite smile and it does nothing to settle the feeling of dread in my stomach.
“How is little Goldie? I heard she has quite the right hook on her.” He drops his gaze to his manicure, picking at his cuticle and I don’t give him the satisfaction of riling me up.
No. I store that information away for another time.
One where I have the upper hand. And Elias at my back.
“Yawn,” I reply in a bored tone. “So what? You’re gonna kill my family?” I try to bluster, hoping he can’t hear the waver in my voice.
“Maybe.” He considers his words. “Eventually.” Abruptly he turns, moving away, just a little, but enough for me to let out the breath I was holding. “I have plans, Sunny.” He stops in front of me. “And you’re the first move.”
“Revenant will kill you.”
“Oh,” he says, mouth open into an “o”. “You think this is about you and Revenant?” His brows raised in surprise.
“How wonderfully romantic.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head sadly.
“When facing an enemy you must know their weaknesses.” He smiles but the light doesn't reach his eyes. “Revenant’s weakness is -” he whirls his finger in the air before jabbing it in my direction, “you. Gallows’ weakness is the club.
Jubilee’s is Mercy but I don’t think she notices, do you? ” He raises a brow and now I’m scared.
My breath hitches in my chest and fear spikes in my belly. He steps closer, closer still, so close I almost step back to get away from him. Almost.
“I know every. Little. Thing. About the Saint’s Outlaws. Their loyalties.” He leans forward, his cigar laced breath fanning my face. “Their regrets. Who they’d bleed for.” He snaps his teeth in my face before spinning on his heel.
“You’ll never destroy the club.”
“What?” He laughs softly. “I don’t want to destroy the club.” His smile drops, eyes dancing. “I just want what’s rightfully mine.”
Using the muzzle of his gun he idly brushes imaginary dirt from my shoulder, clearly pleased with himself. I want to lunge forward, drive my knife into his ribs, but the unsettling look in his eye has me frozen.
His gaze lingers on my face before he lets out a disappointed groan, “Pity I can’t add you to my collection. Yet.” He shakes himself off, giving me that soulless smile I’ve become accustomed to in the past five minutes. “Be a good girl and pass on the message, Sunny Maria Richards.”
Spinning on his high heel he strolls toward the door, his whistled tune bouncing off the walls of this old garage.
I think to run after him, to kill him where he stands, to escape.
I think of a million and one things I want to do but I hold back.
I need to warn the MC and I can’t do that if I’m dead.
Noise to the left of me has my head snapping in that direction, my gaze meeting that of Split and Bubbles.
Well, hello there.
Revenant
Sitting on my hog I wait for Prez’s orders.
The roar of our engines will settle the fear clawing at me.
It means I’m closer to bringing Sunny home.
My gaze is fixed on my hands, gripping the handlebars as if the leather is enough to ground the monster rising inside me. How dare those fuckers take Sunny?
“We good?” Pastor Richards, Warrick, asks out the window of this F-100, his arsenal on the passenger seat beside him. I dip my chin. We’ll be leaving soon enough.
Gallows catches my eye, raising a brow and tipping his head toward the idling pickup.
“Don’t ask,” I reply, slipping my sunglasses on.
Gallows looks at our lineup. Every patched brother is mounted, ready to ride, except Fogg and the prospect. They’ll be running comms and security from the clubhouse.
“Brothers, mount up-”
Gallows words fade on the wind when gunshots ring out.
“Get down!” Mercy bellows, shoving Jubilee off his bike in time to dodge the bullet that ricochets off his gas tank.
We scatter, sheltering where we can but the gunfire seems all encompassing.
“Who the fuck is shooting at us?” Gallows yells, pissed.
Whoever it is has a death wish. The main driveway and entrance was built to bottleneck intruders. To get to our clubhouse you gotta get through Gallows’ mom’s prepper booby traps and bullshit. But these shots aren’t coming from that direction. They’re coming from the side of the farm we’re on.
“Fuck! It’s the Wolves and they got teams coming at us!” Fogg yells down our earpieces, his fucking voice all I can hear over the sound of my heartbeat. I don’t have time for this shit!
“Report, prospect!” Gallows shouts and the prospect kicks into gear.
“We got a team of three headed straight for your position. Two coming on your right, another three coming straight up the club drive,” Grail spits out.
Gallows looks at me, then at the men scattered around us. “Fuck them up.”
We do as he says. Muscle memory kicking in as we break into teams.
“Rev, with me,” Hush yells, tipping his chin to the right.
He leads. Me at his back. Eyes sweeping the scene.
My gun raises as soon as I clock something in my periphery.
Bang. One Wolf down. Left foot. Right foot.
My gun sweeps high while Hush sweeps low.
Gunfire. Shouts. Ears ringing. The air is heavy with gunsmoke and blood.
Then like a kick to the fucking balls it hits me.
This could be my time. This could be when God calls me home.
And for the first time in as long as I can remember…
I don’t want to go. Not now. Not when I have Sunny.
A rifle cracks somewhere to my right. Hush flinches, stumbling a little before his knees buckle and he falls to the ground. He’s silent as I crawl toward him, heart in my throat, prayer in my mind. I can’t lose any one else.
I reach him, a dark stain on his shoulder growing the longer I look at it.
“I’m fine brother, go!” Hush yells in my face.
Shaking my head, I hold my hands to his wound, ignoring his screams. Blood bubbles through my fingers and my heart rate begins to spike. Not again. Not again. Not again.
The sound of my club brothers grunts and groans fill my head until my vision narrows. Brothers. Sunny. I can’t fucking save them all. I have to choose one. I have to choose one.
“Rev!” Gallows shouts, gaze intense. “Get Sunny back! Brake, Coyote! Go with Rev. ”
Sweat drips down my brow. “What about the club?”
“What about your woman?” My brow pulls low. “This is what he wants. You to choose. Choose right,” Gallows growls.
My boots are fucking frozen to the ground.
I can’t up and leave my brothers. I can’t leave Sunny at the mercy of Bubbles and Split.
Choosing my woman would be choosing right.
But so would choosing my brothers. Fuck!
Someone has to die for the others to live right?
That’s the test. The one God has given me time and time again and every time it took a piece of me. I can’t do this again. I can’t lose.
“You can’t bend the rules to save everyone.”
“Of course I can.”
“What if it’s not God’s will?”
“Then why did He make me the kind of person that would keep trying anyway?”
My eyes squeeze shut, tension leaving my shoulders as a grin tugs at my lips. I get it.
“Shit! There are only eight of the fuckers,” Gallows growls, narrowly missing a Sinister Wolf.
“There’s not enough to take the clubhouse,” Mercy adds, taking measured shots at the Wolves in the treeline.
Realisation slams into me. They’re stalling us from getting to Sunny.
“Rev!” Gallows barks over the sporadic gunfire.
I shake my head once. “Pastor! Bring the pickup around! Brake, you’re with me! Coyote, Hush needs a medic STAT.” They all hustle at my shouts.
All except my Prez who searches my gaze before tipping his chin. “You good?”
“I’m done choosing.”
“About fucking time. Bring our girl back.”
Coyote skids to a stop beside me, his hands covering the wound on Hush’s shoulder as I pull away. Pastor Richards fishtails the pickup, kicking up a little gravel as he brakes, forearm resting on the window.
“Plan?”
“You lead, I’ll keep them off your ass!” I yell, legging it to my girl.
Throwing my leg over I fire her up, her throaty roar soothes me like a fucking balm. Brake pulls in next to me, dipping his chin.
“Sunny, we’re coming, baby.”