CHAPTER 24
SNAKE
Everyone is keyed up as we sit in church because we all know Ryker has news to share and my gut is screaming at me that’s it has to do with Graycie. I can’t help but glare at my Prez because he didn’t pull me aside and fill me in first.
If we weren’t sitting in this room, which I consider hallowed ground, I would beat the fuck out the man. He might be my best friend, my brother, my Prez, but I’m barely holding myself back from letting him know just how pissed off I am at him.
My woman is in danger, I can feel the truth of it buzzing under my skin, but I’m in the dark. I fucking hate it.
I want to put an end to her ex walking through the world as if nothing can touch him. It’s almost as if I can feel him getting closer. He has no idea the noose is really tightening around his neck, and he’s not closing in on Graycie.
He’ll find out soon enough.
Ryker looks at me as if he’s weighing my mood and just how pissed off I am. I don’t even try to hide it from him. I stare into his eyes and let him see it all while my hands clench into fists on the tabletop.
“Don’t look at me like that,” my Prez mutters. “I think it’s best you find out in here,” he pauses and I can almost see his internal wince, “where we can keep you calm and stop you from going off half-cocked.”
That has my attention.
I tilt my head as I study the man I grew up with, one of the few people who can pull me back from the brink when I’m on the verge of losing control. He’s seen it all—the good days, the days I wish I could take back, the laughter, and the loyalty.
The only thing I can do is give him a curt nod of understanding. And I do get it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Ryker’s shoulders relax, but only by a fraction. He’s still barely banking his own rage. It only makes me more worried about what he has to tell me.
When his eyes sweep over the table, I have no doubt that he’s noting the same thing as I am. Our brothers are ready to go to war if that is what is needed. For me. For Graycie.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush,’ he glances toward Sidewinder who, in turn, angles his body toward me as if he’s expecting to have to jump up and restrain me.
Fucking hell.
“We’ve gotten word that Sylvester has checked into the hotel in Hickory,” Ryker lays the facts on the table. “We have his room number, and the clerk will give us the key.”
A riot of emotions hits me right in the chest and I have no idea what I’m feeling.
Rage like I’ve never known before. Anticipation.
The need to move, the need for momentum to carry me right to death’s doorstep so I can deliver that fuckwit directly.
Worry about my woman freaking the fuck out when she finds out.
“Let’s go get him,” I start to stand up, but Sidewinder is there and pushing me back into my chair with a hand on my shoulder.
The glare I send him would have a lesser man running for the hills. I guess it’s a good thing he’s not a lesser man because he doesn’t even blink, let alone flinch, and make a break for it.
“First,” Ryker reminds me, his tone measured, “we make a plan.”
Whiskey clicks something on his computer and an ariel view of the roadside hotel is put up on the screen. He clears his throat and adds an arrow to the image.
“He’s in room 110,” Whiskey fills in. “It’s right on the end of the row, easy to get in and get out.”
I blow out a breath through my nose, my words biting, “Sounds like we have a plan, Prez. We need to get moving.”
Ryker barely spares me a glance before looking out over our brothers. “Snake, Sidewinder, and Playboy will come with me to grab the fucker,” his lip curls up with his words. “Warden has already volunteered to drive the van.”
I glance over at Dad who is already looking at me, his gaze steady and knowing. He gives me a chin lift, a silent acknowledgement. He has my back; he has Graycie’s back.
I’ll be the first to admit that I love the way Graycie has gotten close to both of my parents.
She is loved by both of them, and I can see the joy and relief written on their faces whenever she’s around.
Still, there is a special bond between Dad and Graycie, like he’s the father she never knew she could have, and she’ll burn the world down to keep it.
My woman is loyal as fuck. And fierce.
It’s a beautiful thing to witness.
There’s more talking around the table, about approaches and the teams of two. But I’m barely listening. Not because it’s unimportant, but because I can’t focus.
Knowing I’ll have my hands on the man who found joy in inflicting pain on my woman has my breathing deepening and a haze of red falling across my vision. I’m able to keep it together as the meeting winds down and we all head out to our bikes.
I have no doubt that all of us are already strapped.
Fuck, I’m sure Playboy has his shoulder and ankle holsters in place, along with having at least three knives hidden on him.
The man loves a good weapon, which is part of what makes him the enforcer the club needs.
Still, he really prefers to fight hand-to-hand, which has nothing to do with fairness and everything to do with the satisfaction of causing pain directly.
With your hands.
It’s a feeling I understand, one which is coursing through me as we mount up and head out of the compound. I don’t look back, and a pang of regret hits me in the chest because I didn’t track down my woman and let her know what is going on.
Maybe I should have, but I don’t want her to overthink.
If she knows about where we’re going and why, she’ll worry herself into a fucking tizzy.
It’s better to leave her in the kitchen where she’s helping Patsy and Vera cook dinner.
I’m sure Opal is in the mix somewhere there as well, but, hopefully, she’s just drinking a glass of wine while overseeing everything.
Since the hotel is roadside, we don’t bother trying to hide the roar of our pipes when we pull up. I highly doubt that he’s expecting Graycie to have a motorcycle club at her back. He expects to find a terrified woman who doesn’t try to make too much noise or draw attention to herself.
That version of Graycie is the one that piece of shit created, one he molded, one which only exists because he abused her into submission.
I crack my knuckles as I follow closely behind Ryker as he flanks the door. Playboy strolls up with the key card in his hand and a maniacal smile on his face. The man lives for this kind of shit, and he hasn’t had nearly enough action lately.
None of us hope for chaos, but Playboy thrives in it. Even more so if there is blood and violence involved.
I can only shake my head and focus on the handle, every heartbeat feeling like an eternity. Ryker makes eye contact with each of us before nodding at Playboy who reaches over and unlocks the door.
Sylvester is lounging back on the bed in a pair of boxers. The television is on and the remote is resting on his stomach when we rush in. He sits up and it falls off the edge of the bed and clatters to the floor.
His mouth opens, probably to protest our presence, but he doesn’t get the chance. Playboy is there and sucker punches the man right in the temple. The way he crumples onto the bed, without even getting a chance to put one foot down, is almost comical.
I freeze right along with Ryker and Sidewinder. We slowly turn our attention toward Playboy who is standing at the edge of the bed with his hands on his hips. He’s looking down at the unconscious man we came to grab.
“Well,” he drawls, “that was fucking anti-climactic.”
A startled and hysterical laugh comes out of me as I look between my brother and the man who terrorized my woman and took pleasure in it. We all turn when Warden steps into the doorway.
Dad’s eyes sweep over the scene before he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I guess it’s one way to deal with the problem.” He eyes the man on the bed thoughtfully. “I think I can just haul him over my shoulder, but let’s get him tied up first, ya?”
Playboy chuckles, the sound wrapping around us like sinister smoke, as he pulls some zip ties out of his pocket. The man fucking whistles a tune as he gets limp dick secured.
When he’s done, he steps back and brushes his hands together like what he just did is all in a day’s work. For him, it is.
Warden steps up then, his face a stoic mask. He lets out a low grunt as he flops the dead weight over his shoulder and turns back toward the door. Sidewinder collects everything Sylvester has strewn around the room before stuffing it back in his bag.
“You’d think the man is just on vacation,” the words slip past my lips filled with disbelief.
Ryker lets out a pained sigh. “To him, it probably is a vacation. Just one with more purpose than relaxing.”
My fists clench at my sides as a dull thud from outside has my attention snapping in that direction. Looking through the doorframe, Warden stands up to his full height while Sylvester is laid out in the back of the van, which is pulled in ass end toward the hotel.
The doors being slammed shut are loud in the room. Even though it felt almost too easy, I’m not worried about something going wrong. Now we have him in our clutches, and he won’t be leaving the compound alive.
No, he’s going to die by my hands.
I’m looking forward to it.
We’re headed back toward the clubhouse, surrounding the van the entire way, in almost no time at all. When we pull in, I stop and walk my bike back into its place while the van is pulled around to one of the loading docks on the side of the warehouse.
Sylvester will find himself in our wet room where he’ll be strapped to a chair. At least he won’t be shocked to find himself in only boxers whenever he comes back around since it was his outfit of choice. Little did he know he’d be snatched from his hotel.