Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Skull slaps my back. “She’s safe. Ace won’t let a damned breeze stir a hair on her head.”
I grunt, because I can’t unlock my jaw. Truthfully I’m wondering if the jaws-of-life will be needed to break my teeth apart.
“You good?” he asks, taking a second to look at my face between shoving extra ammo clips into the waist of his jeans.
“He’s gonna knock your head off,” Prez warns as he picks up a rifle from the tailgate of the truck.
“I’d like to see him try,” Skull mumbles.
I let myself take one more look down the road where Gigi is in my truck, in the passenger seat in giant sunglasses and a hat with her hair hidden. She’s even got a fake beard on her face.
God only knows why there was a fake beard at the compound, but I’ll take it.
“There he is,” Prez says, elbowing me. “And the other good news is Grenade and the Broken Wheel members are in position.”
The rumble of bikes splits the air. Lots of them. A whole fucking army.
“Look, he brought the whole club,” Skull chuckles. “How convenient.”
I pick up the duffel bag and round the front of the truck, walking to stand in the center of the road with determination turning my spine to pure fucking steel.
Behind me, Skull and Prez fan out. A dozen yards back, the heavy-hitters for the Kings of Darkness Bad River chapter create a line across the road.
The enemy’s bikes roll to a stop, the engines cutting off at once. For a long minute Gigi’s father stares at me from behind his sunglasses. Finally he shakes his head, shoves down the stand on his bike and strolls toward me like he owns the fucking world.
“Well, well. I’ve seen your face on the videos at the club,” he remarks around a toothpick. “Guess you fell for the merchandise. Was that cherry worth a half-a-mill?”
“What kind of sick fuck talks about his own daughter like that?” I growl.
Ward shrugs like we’re discussing the weather instead of his flesh and blood.
“One who never wanted one to begin with. Then I realized she could fatten my wallet. Maybe putting up with her ass all those years was finally worth it.”
A truck door opens behind me. I don’t turn because I already know who it is.
“Chaos...” I warn.
She ignores me and truthfully, I expect nothing less. Her little combat boots crunch over the gravel until she comes to a stop beside me.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the Glock in her hand.
She’s steady.
The weapon isn’t pointed at anyone.
Ward snorts, spitting out the toothpick onto the road. “Get your ass over here.”
Gigi raises the pistol until it’s aimed square at the center of his chest.
The sound of leather creaking fills the valley as every brother behind me shifts.
Across from us, a dozen Daggers reach for their weapons.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up, but the devil on my shoulder says to hold the line.
Ward smirks.
Gigi raises her voice, looking right at her father. “When I was little I used to imagine this day.”
He laughs before she even finishes.
“You imagined the day you’d finally lose your damn mind?”
Hand steady, pistol aimed, she says, “Nope. I’d lie awake after you’d finished screaming at me and I always wondered what I’d say if I ever stopped being afraid of you.”
Bolts inside of me tighten, a surge of protectiveness causing my blood to rush to my fingers.
But my sweet, badass Chaos, steels her spine, lifting her chin. “I’m done being afraid.”
In the heavy silence, she motions toward his Harley with the barrel of the pistol. “Get on your bike.”
Ward throws his head back and laughs, the vicious sound echoing off the trees.
“You heard my wife. If you want to live to see another day you’ll get on your bike and fucking leave town.”
“Wife,” he snorts. “You’re full of shit.”
She holds up her left hand, wiggling her fingers. “It’s official.”
Ward’s eyes go glacial. His lips in a permanent sneer. He looks over his shoulder and barks an order to his men. “Shoot them!”
Nobody moves. After a long moment, he starts waving his hands in the air. “You fucking heard me—shoot them!”
One of his men slowly lowers his rifle. Another lets his hand fall away from the pistol on his hip.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ward bellows, spit flying from his mouth, his face red and twisted.
The oldest patched member in the front row shakes his head, a look of disgust on his weathered face. “Can’t do it, Prez. She always deserved better.”
“That child never did anything but try to please you,” another says, spitting on the pavement next to Ward’s boots.
Another brother clears his throat as he holsters his pistol. “This ain’t what I signed up for.”
The road goes deathly quiet. Ward Trammel looks like a man who lost a war.
Chaos lowers the gun just enough to rest it at her side.
“Guess they’re done being afraid too,” she says, watching his men turn their backs.
Her fingers find mine and I lace them together and my wife leans into my shoulder.
“Oh, hey Ward. About that money…”
I toss the bag on the ground between us.
Ward tears his eyes away from Gigi and looks at the bag. Greed replaces rage and he bends to pick it up.