Chapter 8
Eight
The transfer went perfectly, and Paxton and I ride back to the MC’s compound with another batch of coke.
The wind rushes past the tails of my cut and the roar of the bike between my legs is a wonderful feeling.
As we come around the bend in the road along the American River, two men and a woman catch my eye.
Both men have guns in their hands and the woman…
that woman… My gaze falls on the sleeve tattoo on her left arm.
Fuck, that’s Layne!
I gesture to my little brother and then point at the scene. What the fuck is going on there? Without thinking, I drive up and stop near them. “Layne?”
At the exact time all eyes turn my way, Pax stops next to me. “What’s going on?” I ask and focus only on Layne.
She takes a step in my direction and the blond guy turns to keep his gun trained on her.
“Jesse,” the other guy hisses. He has a military look about him.
Jesse’s distracted for a moment and looks at his companion. “What, that bitch should just get in the car. This should be simple.”
I pull my Glock from my waistband and point it at Jesse. “What should be simple?” I spit between clenched jaws.
“Mrs. Hayes is joining us for a chat,” the soldier says.
“Mrs. Hayes isn’t going anywhere with you at all.” I nod to Layne to tell her that she should come to me. Meanwhile, Paxton has his gun pointed at the soldier. “Hop on the back, Lay,” I say and she does as I ask.
Before these guys can even respond, I push my bike back, open the throttle and ride off. Pax follows me and it doesn’t take long before the first bullet flies past us.
Damn! Thank God the street is practically deserted.
I twist my upper body, point my Glock in the direction the bullet is coming from and fire several times.
As soon as we whiz around the corner, I turn back and focus on the road.
What the fuck do they want from her? Does she know something after all? Hasn’t she been honest with me?
I set course for the Renegades’ compound when she suddenly shouts over my shoulder, “Rebel! I have to pick up Rebel!”
“Shit!” I exclaim, frustrated. “Where are we supposed to go?”
Layne shows me the way to a bungalow in the middle of one of Folsom’s residential neighborhoods, and a few doors down we stop. She dismounts and looks at me. “Will you wait for me?”
“Of course.” I nod.
She shivers, but then she straightens her back and strides toward the house with a determined look.
“What the fuck was that, Ky?” Pax’s face is contorted in pain.
I just shrug. Fortunately, it’s not long before Layne reappears with Rebel’s hand in hers. “This is Kyler, Reb. We’re going with him for a while, so I want you to sit on the back of his bike.”
“On the front,” I correct her and open an arm so Rebel can get on it.
Layne lifts her daughter and puts her between my legs. She presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll see you in a minute.” The tremor in her voice is back. Without looking at me, she walks to Paxton.
I start the engine and drive home. Dad’s going to be pissed off, but I don’t care. Without our intervention, Layne would’ve been kidnapped, and we don’t know what those guys planned for her. Are planning.
The gates of our compound loom before me and relief surges through me.
My heart rate finally slows down slightly and the adrenaline slowly leaves my body.
It doesn’t take long for us to drive in, and I park my Indian in her regular spot next to the stairs.
I throw my leg over the saddle and then lift Rebel off my bike.
“Hey, Shorts.” I bend through my knees and sweep a blond strand of hair behind her ear. I open my helmet and remove it from my head.
A smile appears on her face.
“I’m Kyler.” I extend my hand to her, which she takes and shakes.
“Rebel,” she whispers.
“Come on, let’s go see if your mother’s here yet.” I hold out my hand, in which she puts hers. A strange feeling of satisfaction courses through me.
After I straighten myself, we walk toward the other bikes.
Layne is just getting off my little brother’s dark green Chief.
She’s scanning the grounds, and then, spotting us, a smile graces her lips as she approaches.
Even though she walks fast, her unusual steps reveal that she’s holding herself back from running, to keep Rebel in the dark about what just happened.
As soon as she reaches Rebel, her arms come around the girl and she pulls her daughter close. “Did you have fun? At Piper’s and on the bike?”
Rebels puts her face in her mother’s neck and nods. The girl tells about a movie she watched with her friend. Luckily, she hasn’t got a clue what’s going on.
The entire scene warms my broken heart. It’s exactly like I always imagined Layne would be as a mother.
People always say that the love for a child is unconditional and incomparable.
I see that bond right in front of me and still can’t fully comprehend what it must be like.
Shorts isn’t my daughter, obviously. I quickly rub over Layne’s arm and then I walk away.
Pax is standing next to his Indian and studies his arm. “Goddamn it,” he curses.
“What?” I frown and turn him around. Immediately I notice the blood covering his arm. He stumbles and grabs the saddle of his Indian. Before I can react, Layne’s fingers close around his wrist.
“Come with me,” she commands him, and drags him to the stairs which lead to my apartment. “Ky, open the door. I need tweezers, alcohol, a lighter, a needle, and thread.”
Jesus, is she… I only notice I stopped when Layne calls out “now!”
My legs react, and I hurry up the stairs to open the lock. When I get inside I immediately start searching for the things she needs. I put everything I found on the counter. “I’ll leave you two to it and will report to Dad what happened.”
“Good luck,” Pax says from his seat on the couch, Layne on her knees in front of him. The look on his face says I warned you.
Rebel crawls into the corner of an armchair, her knees pulled up to her chin. I give her the remote to the TV, pat her head, and go downstairs.
“Goddamn it, Kyler,” my dad roars as I enter the bar.
His tall frame fills the door of the chapel.
His body’s still quite muscular for his age and his cut fits tightly around his shoulders.
With fire in his gray eyes, he stares straight at me as he gestures to the chapel.
He pushes his hand through his dark-blond hair, which is turning gray.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans, and put a cig behind my ear. I’m going to need it when I’m done here. Trudging after the prez, I close the heavy double doors behind me.
He sits down at the end of the oak table that has enough chairs around it for all the club members. My gaze slides over the various photos on the wall, showing former and current members. For a moment I linger on Layne’s father, before turning to the prez.
“They were taking her against her will,” I stated flatly. Inside, fire races through my veins, but Dad knows me inside out. Where others see nothing, Dad sees right through me.
His fist lands on the table with a bang. “I don’t give a damn. She’s nothing to us and we have nothing to do with her shit. She made that very clear to you ten years ago. An old fling means nothing to the club, Kyler.”
“So you just let a woman get kidnapped when you see it happening? Without saying a damn word? This is our territory, for fuck’s sake.” I lean casually against the wall, but my heart’s pounding like crazy.
“Kyler, she’s not your old lady. When the hell is that going to sink into that thick skull of yours, boy? She’s got no ties to the club and you’ve backed us into a corner over a fling. Pax got hit—”
“A graze. It’s nothing and Layne’s helping him.” I cross one ankle over the other.
“You’re not listening. You got the Renegades involved in a war that’s not ours to fight. For what? For whom? An old club slut?”
I push myself away from the wall, trying my damndest not to punch my father in the face, and lean on the edge of the table. “Dad,” I start, but cringe under his gaze. “It’s Layne and—”
He gets up from his chair and pulls me forward by my shirt. “I don’t care. I know it’s Layne and I know—”
“She’s Elias’ daughter.”
My father goes still. A moment later he says, “Elias is dead and Layne’s nothing—”
“Seriously, Dad? You would’ve let her get kidnapped? Who knows what they would’ve done to her. Elias is turning in his grave and you know it.” Little by little I regain my confidence.
“It isn’t the reason you did it, and you know it.” Dad runs his hand through his hair.
I turn around. “Doesn’t matter, we protect what’s ours and she’s the daughter of our old VP. Besides, she was on our territory, which means she’s entitled to club protection.” With those words, I walk out of the chapel.
Sighing, I sit down on the bottom step of the stairs and fetch the cigarette from behind my ear.
I put it between my lips, searching my pockets for a couple of seconds before I realize I don’t have my lighter.
“Dammit, I gave it to Layne,” I say to no one in particular.
I rub my eyelids. When I open them, a lighter dangles in front of my nose.
I look up, straight into Layne’s deep-brown eyes.
“Guess you need this?” She lowers herself onto the step beside me, and I take it from her. Immediately, I click it and hold the flame near my cigarette.
“Pax?” Eyebrows raised, I look at her and inhale.
She points upward. “With Rebel. I cleaned and stitched up his wound.” For a moment, she’s silent before standing up. With a soft “thank you,” she walks back up the stairs to my apartment. After I finish the cigarette, I step back down the stairs and mount my bike. I need to clear my head.
At dinner, we explain to Rebel who I am—a friend of Mom and Dad’s—and tell her she’s staying here tonight with Layne.
When I get out of the shower half an hour later, Layne’s just getting up from the couch on which Rebel is lying under a blanket.
She grabs a plate that’s left on the table after our dinner and she clears it.
“Never mind, Lay, I’ll do that in a minute.” I pull open the lid of the dishwasher and prepare to collect the dishes.
Layne’s already behind me, plates in hand. “Do you have another blanket?”
Nodding, I take it from her hands and put them in the dishwasher. “On my bed.”
There’s a snort. “I mean, for the lounge area.”
“Sleeps like shit and I don’t have another blanket. I promise to keep my hands to myself and stay on my side.”
With her arms folded under her breasts, she stands in front of me, my eyes lingering on the arm with the tattoo sleeve.
“It’s only for one night, so I’ll be fine on the couch. I’ll manage a night without a blanket, as well.” She spins on her heel and walks away.
Briefly squeezing my eyes shut, I go to her and take her into the bedroom.
Once there, I close the sliding door so Rebel can’t hear us.
“It’s not just for one night, Layne. You can’t go home.
It’s not safe there. Not until we take those bastards down.
” My voice is a low hum and I curse myself for having to say this to her.
Ideally, I would’ve had a plan by now, but first I have to at least figure out who wants to take her and why.
“Fuck this,” she whispers and with a few large strides, she’s back in front of me.
Her fists bang against my chest. “This is all your fault.” She slams a second time against my chest. “If you hadn’t come to my house, nothing would’ve happened.
You’re an asshole.” When she inhales, I hear the restrained sob.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” When she lashes out again, I grab her wrist. “Stop hitting me.” For fucks sake, I understand she needs to get her emotions out, but I’m not a fucking punching bag.
“Stop ruining my life,” she grits out, her face almost pressed against my chin, jaws clamped together. Anger flares in her dark eyes.
I drop her wrist. “That’s not—”
“I left because I knew that everything the club touches breaks.” She stomps away from me, stops in her tracks, and runs her hands through her black hair.
My heart, or the pieces that I still have, breaks for the hundred-thousandth time. Damn, I understand her perspective, but it fucking hurts to hear it out loud like this.
After a few moments I gather myself. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” My voice cracks and I stare at the ceiling.
“Yeah? Is it? That whole damned club of yours is a front for freaking criminals and you’re their vice president.” She gestures wildly with her arms in the air, causing her tank top to tighten around her breasts, and I struggle to keep my eyes on her face. Now is not the time.
I narrow my eyes and grip her chin tightly. She doesn’t know shit, and I can’t tell her either. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Layne. Ten years. That’s how long you’ve been gone. You have no fucking idea what my club does. So I suggest you shut the fuck up.”
Her gaze holds mine. “I saw enough in the time before I left, remember?”
I step forward, her chin still in my hand, and press her against the wall. “Sometimes,” I hiss.
“Sometimes what?”
I release her with a final push against the wall and run my hand through my hair. “Sometimes we’re criminals, but most of the time we’re not. Damn you, Layne.”
“What the fuck, you’re riding your motorcycle with a gun in your waistband.” She rolls her eyes.
I imitate her and say, “Legal under the Second Amendment.” It earns me a shove and I grab her again.
“The California law—”
“Oh, please.”
She waves me off. My stomach turns at the next comment.
“Not to mention the MC’s gun business. You guys make sure kids get their hands on guns.” Her hands are clenched into fists, as if to stop herself from attacking me.
“Layne, stop,” I hiss and tighten my fists. “It’s not the same as when your dad was VP. I can’t and shouldn’t discuss club business with you.” I lift my chin, and look down at her. A wave of nausea washes over me.
She snorts, pulls open the sliding door and gives me a shove so unexpectedly that I step backward into the living room. “You sleep on the couch.” With those words, she slams the door shut.
For a few moments, I stare at the door. Oh, I don’t think so. She won’t get rid of me that easily.