Chapter 26
twenty-six
The pain in my shoulders is excruciating.
I can’t tell how long I've been in this position, my hands bound to the chair behind my back. I’ve drifted in and out of consciousness at least twice.
We drove in relative silence for hours, stopping only once or twice.
Once we made it to this warehouse, the fuckers who’ve been holding me took turns using me as a soccer ball.
Like the pussies they are, they made sure my restraints were secure before they beat me, so I couldn’t fight back, could barely defend myself at all.
Every inch of my body aches, the bullet wound on my shoulder split open again somewhere during the assault.
My left eye burns as blood drips into it from a cut along my hairline.
The pounding in my head and my heart rival each other for control.
Despite what I told myself back at Breaker’s house, I don’t want to die.
I don’t want to leave Kelsea alone in this world.
I don’t want my sister to suffer that kind of loss, my friends to carry the weight of this on their shoulders.
But if they’re gonna kill me, I wish they would just get it over with.
The only thing keeping me sane right now are the images in my mind of Kelsea.
Her beautiful smile, her stubborn attitude, everything that makes her the woman I fell for is all I have to keep me anchored.
A door opens and closes somewhere behind me, the sound of shuffling feet coming my direction.
“What the fuck is this, Lincoln?” A deep voice with a thick southern accent says. He sounds pissed, and I’d hate to be Lincoln right now.
“You said we needed money, Prez. That fucking suit offered a shitload just to bring him this guy,” the man I assume is Lincoln replies.
“This is not what we stand for here, Linc. We don’t get involved in shit like this! I told you boys I wanted to turn this fuckin’ club around. I’m practically beatin’ my head against the fuckin wall tryin’ to make this organization go legit!” the other man shouts.
“You know that’s never gonna happen, Prez. Too many of us walk a thin line when it comes to the legal system,” another man says.
“It’s gonna happen if I say it’s gonna happen, Axle. This is my MC now, my responsibility. I won’t have the men I’m responsible for seen as nothin’ more than a bunch of fuckin’ animals,” he replies.
“Can somebody at least loosen these restraints? I’m not really in any shape to fucking fight back,” I ask, knowing it’s a long shot, but the muscles in my shoulders are screaming.
“Jesus fuckin christ. Cut him loose, Ax.” The man they call Prez orders.
“You sure that’s a good idea, boss?” Lincoln, the stupid fucker, replies.
A growl sounds from the older man as they all move to stand in front of me.
The slice of a knife cutting through my zip cuffs is followed by the sudden relief.
The burning heat of muscle damage courses through my joints.
I slump over in my chair, dragging several deep breaths to calm myself.
I look over at the men in front of me. One I recognize as the man who held a gun to Aurora’s head.
“You Lincoln?” I ask him, and he sneers in response. “You’ll die before I do.” I spit back at him.
“Easy there, son. No need to go making threats in your current state. I think my dumbass friend here just got himself in a little over his head.” The man in the middle says.
He’s tall and muscular, full sleeves of tattoos, and a little salt and pepper in his hair and beard.
The confidence he exudes tells me he’s the leader.
“A little over his head? That’s what you call it when a man lays his hands on a woman?” I ask, disgust clear in my tone.
“YOU DID WHAT?!” The older man screams, his fists balling at his sides. He pulls a pistol from the small of his back and whips it across the man’s jaw. Lincoln collapses in a heap on the floor.
“He’ll be dealt with,” the man says.
“Yeah, I know a few men who’d be more than happy to deal with him for you,” I reply, spitting blood onto the concrete floor.
“We take out our own trash,” he replies, whistling sharply.
Two more stocky men come into the room and drag Lincoln’s limp body back out.
“My name is Owen. I’m the president of this chapter of the Bayou Reapers.
” He extends his hand towards me and it takes every ounce of strength I have to shake it.
“Everett. Just lovely to meet you under these… circumstances,” my snarky attitude always gets me in trouble, but for some reason, I just can’t shut it off. Owen smirks at me, suppressing a laugh.
“This is my son, Axel. He’s the sergeant-at-arms here.” He jerks his head towards the man standing next to him and the family resemblance is noticeable.
“No clue what the fuck that is, but okay,” I reply, trying to push myself onto my feet.
“Don’t hurt yourself there, boy. No need to get up,” Owen says, his tone giving me pause.
“You gonna hold me here? Hand me over to that fucking congressman?” I spit back at him.
“No. We don’t do shit like this. This club doesn’t take outside jobs. But we’re all in quite a mess here because Linc already called the bastard. He’s on his way here.” He scrubs a hand down his face, looking conflicted.
“Well, I’d be glad to not fucking be here when he arrives,” I reply.
“Listen, I’m not interested in having your death on my conscience. But I’m also not trying to incur the wrath of a fucking US Congressman. I’ve got people to protect here, too. What does he even want you for, anyway?” He asks, and I scoff. These guys have gotta get better at doing their homework.
“I killed his son,” I say plainly, no remorse in my voice.
“So you deserve whatever you have coming to you?” Axel asks, arms crossed over his chest.
“Let me rephrase. His fucking son kidnapped my girlfriend and tried to kill my sister and my best friend. So I killed him.” I shrug my uninjured shoulder.
“Sounds justified to me,” Owen nods.
“Either way, pops, Linc got us into some shit here. If that congressman arrives and we have nothing to hand him, he’s gonna be pissed,” Axel says.
A plan brews in my mind. It might be a long shot, but it’s better than handing myself over to this fucker. “I've got an idea that may help us both out of this predicament,” I interject.
“I’m all ears, son,” Owen says, quirking an eyebrow in my direction.
“My friends and I have been looking for a way to get a handle on the congressman for months. We’d be more than happy to take care of that problem for us both, but I need them here with me,” I suggest. Owen seems to think over my proposal, considering what I’m really suggesting.
Between Eli, Breaker, and me, we can make him disappear.
We can do it even cleaner if we get a few of the other guys involved.
Iris is an expert at clean-up. Breaker can cover our tracks and build us any alibi we choose digitally.
Eli and I have always been the muscle, and that’s fine by me.
Owen looks me over, as if he’s deciding if this is something I’m really capable of.
If he only knew the amount of blood that stains my hands, he wouldn’t question me at all.
His gaze drags over the full sleeve of military tattoos running from my neck to my knuckles.
“Were you in the service?” He asks, already knowing the answer to his question.
“Yes, sir. We were in the Corps together. We are a team, a well-oiled machine,” I reply, knowing we’ve executed plenty of flawless missions together.
Owen nods slowly, thinking it over. He checks the watch on his left wrist and looks over his shoulder towards his son.
With a jerk of his head, Axel steps forward and extends his hand towards me, handing me his cell phone.
“You’ve got about 4 hours to get them here before the congressman arrives. Think you can manage that?”
“If I know my team, they’re already in the air.
” Scoffing, I dial Breaker’s number. He’s the only one with a phone that’ll work if they’re already in Helo’s chopper.
I let it ring twice before hanging up and calling again, a system we worked out years ago when calling from unknown numbers and locations. He answers on the first ring this time.
“Who is this?” His gravelly voice comes through the line.
“B, it’s me,” I say, solace flooding my system.
“What the fuck?! Everett?!” He sounds relieved at the sound of my voice.
“Damn, daddy, do I have a story to tell you,” I laugh, using the name I swore I’d never use from our time together in the Corps. I spend the next ten minutes giving him the short version of everything that’s transpired during the last few hours.
“Leave it to your dumbass to get into some shit like this, Everett,” he says after I’m done relaying my plan.
“Well… do you think it’s gonna work?” I ask, hoping he says yes.
“We’re already halfway there. ETA 1 hour. Send me your coordinates and we’ll get our shit together,” he hangs up without another word in true Breaker fashion. Owen and Axel look at me with surprise, as if they didn’t really believe I could pull something like this off.
“I’ll be damned, kid. We all might make it through this after all,” Owen laughs.
I smirk back at him, knowing everything has to work according to plan for all of us to make it out of here unscathed.
I debate for a moment whether I should try to call Kelsea.
Hearing my voice would be a relief for her, but it would just as quickly become a detriment knowing I’m willingly putting myself in harm’s way to end this.
No. I’ll call her once it’s done, once I can assure her that everything is safe and I’m coming home.