Chapter 29 #2
His grin broadens. “There it is. That panic. I’ve been waiting for that.
The second that calm finally cracks. You’re good, Decker.
Real good. So good I barely have any proof.
Last night, though, finally tipped me off.
” He steps closer, and I match his step back as I eye his hand sliding to his holster, to his gun.
“You warned him, didn’t you? That I was coming for his VP.
He’s not the only one with eyes in that place, you know.
McKenna was on his way to a death sentence, and because of you, he’s still breathing.
And then I saw you with the She-Donovan.
That why you’re doing this? Biker whore pussy? ”
Deep.
Fucking.
Breaths.
“Whatever you think you know is wrong. You’ve made this too personal,” I say, keeping my tone surprisingly even. “This vendetta against Donovan? It’s messing with your head. Take some time off. Reflect. Meditate. Whatever you need to do to bring yourself down a couple notches.”
He chuckles. “No, Decker. I got you. That quick little fuck with your whore isn’t the only thing I saw last night.”
Another step closer.
This time I stand my ground. I don’t need a weapon to kill him.
A fast strike to the neck, a hit to the temple.
He’d be out before he hit the ground. Takedown.
Truck door open. Body inside. Hands to the throat until his pulse stops.
From here, the cameras might not even catch it.
It’s early, though, sun bright, the town packed with morning commuters.
Dumping his body would be… inconvenient.
“You’re too smart to risk it all for a little tail,” he says. “It’s more than that. This is a long time in the making. Started small, didn’t it? A little payoff here, another there. But then you let a few too many things slide. Now you’re in deep. Now Donovan calls the shots. Am I right?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. Not exactly how it went. But yeah. That asshole definitely calls the shots.
“What happened in there”—he thumbs over his shoulder—“can go away. You’ll be out of a paycheck for a couple weeks, sure, but like you said, that could be anybody.
I did you a favour. I gave them the worst angle.
There’s still a way for you to get out of this.
” With another step closer, he lowers his voice.
“I only did that to show you what could happen if you don’t play along. ”
The rage rolling through me is at a full boil now. Fuck this fucking guy.
“I’m listening.”
“Bring me Donovan. Alive. You do that, and all I’ve learned over the last few days stays buried. I won’t go kicking up your business.” When I stay silent, he says, “It’s a mutually beneficial situation. I get Donovan, and you get freed from his payroll. Win-win.”
Do I want Axe dead? Yeah. Most days. But there’s no way out of this for me. Axe made sure of that. It’s a mutually destructive situation, really. Lose-lose.
Despite all that, I still smile. “Just tell me what I need to do.”
I need liquor. No. I need a solid few hours on my bike. Take a rip out of town and keep driving until the sun’s completely dipped below the horizon. Until South Bay and all the shit that comes with it are so far behind me that I don’t bother coming back.
No.
I need Grace. I need her hair in my face and her fingers gliding over my chest. I need one of those moments when I can shut my mind off and just exist. With her.
It’s just after nine a.m. when I pull up to my house. The curtains are drawn shut, as I left them. With any luck, Grace will be where I left her. In bed. Mostly naked. Or maybe puttering around my kitchen, dressed in one of my tattered sweaters, sipping her third cup of coffee.
When I turn my key, there’s no resistance.
I stiffen. It’s unlocked. Breath held, I search my memories from this morning. Grace in bed. A hot pot of strong coffee brewing. I walked out of the house. I turned. I locked the door.
So either she’s gone, or someone’s here.
Slowly, I push open the door, listening for a threat. The house is dead silent. My bedroom door is open, but from this angle, I can’t tell if Grace is still safely tucked under my blankets, or if my sheets have long gone cold.
I step inside, reaching for the gun I keep hidden on the top shelf next to the door. Carefully, I grip it and work my way towards my room, doing a quick sweep of the kitchen as I go. I’m just about to cross the threshold into my bedroom when I hear it.
A quiet click. Metal on metal. The snap of a round being chambered. Then a cold barrel presses into my temple.
My muscles lock up, my instincts raging.
“Hey, Decker.”
I breathe out through my nose, my shoulders dropping. “Hey, Preach.”
“I’m gonna need you to give me that gun,” he says.
Slowly, I hand over my weapon. “Where is she?”
“Living room. Hands where I can see them.”
Following his direction, I raise my hands and then I turn to face him. Tattoo covered, leather Sinner cut, fingers adorned with thick rings, and the gun. Pointing straight at my face. He’s close enough I could disarm him. Grab the barrel. Strike to the throat. Twist. Slam his wrist into the?—
“I know what you’re thinking,” he warns. “And I don’t want to shoot you, but we both know I will. No sudden movements, all right? I’m not alone.”
Of course he isn’t.
At gunpoint, he herds me back down the hallway, through the kitchen, and into the living room.
Tex leans against the wall, picking his nails with a knife, looking bored. And Grace looks… grim. She’s on my couch, hands twisting in her lap, face still a little swollen from last night. She’s wearing my favourite Jay’s sweater and a pair of jean shorts.
We exchange a quick look, but I don’t let my attention linger on her too long. I can’t afford to with the threat sitting in the recliner at the back of the room. Axel Donovan.
“Gracie was just in the middle of telling me a story.” He leans back, cocking his head, and gives me a once over. “Sit.”
I force a smile. “I’ll stand.”
Axe’s focus slices to Preacher, who’s still looming behind me. A sharp pain explodes in my lower back as he hammers the butt of his gun into my side. I crumple to my knees, choking as I hit the floor. Gritting my teeth, I glare up at him, at his gun, which is in my face again.
He only shrugs. That barrel is still too close to me. I could still disarm him from here. Still gain the upper hand. Still?—
“Given the state I found Grace in when I came here looking for you,” Axe says, his lip curling, “I’m gonna assume she’s already filled you in on what she’s been up to. But I’ll catch you up just so we’re all on the same page.”
Grace clears her throat. “Axe?—”
“I’ll tell you when you can talk,” he snaps. “Gracie here jumped into bed with the enemy, and when shit got a little too real, the traitorous bitch slithered back into Sinner territory expecting to be welcomed back into my family.” He glowers at her. “That about sum it up?”
“Almost,” she says dryly. “You forgot the part where this traitorous bitch took out their VP before running back here.”
He snorts. “So you say. But I’ve met Broedy Bannon. Been a hot minute since I’ve seen him, but he was a big fucker even back then. Girl your size would have a hell of a time bringing a man like him down.”
She breaks into a brittle smile. “I imagine he thought the same thing. But he’s the one who ended up on the floor drowning in a puddle of his own blood. You’d be smart not to underestimate me. He did. And look how that turned out.”
Brows jumping, Axe angles forward, elbows on his knees. “Let’s get something straight. Being Jimmy’s daughter doesn’t protect you out here. Fucking watch your tone with me. And you wanna threaten me, you better be ready to follow through.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “Maybe I am.”
“As much as I’d love to believe your little story,” he continues, “I can’t trust a goddamn thing that comes out of your mouth. Far as I know, you’re here because they asked you to be. They want what I’ve built, and they’ve sent you here to help them take it.”
Her eyes widen. “You can’t be serious. I would never?—”
“The part I’m confused about is where you play into this, Decker.
” Those cold eyes are back on me. “Why my guys tell me they saw you and Gracie running out of that shithole those Raider fucks were hiding out in. Help me fill in the gaps, or I’ll have Preacher here put a bullet in your fucking head.
Can’t say I’d be sad to finally be rid of you. ”
As if to prove Axe’s point, Preacher presses the barrel into my temple.
“Don’t,” Grace says quickly. “Decker had nothing to do with this. He was just helping me?—”
“Helping you what? Feed information to the fucking enemy?” Axe glares at me. “I bet you jumped right on that. Chance to take me down? Make it look like a territory war? Smart, I’ll give you that. Guess I underestimated your resourcefulness.”
I ignore the thrum raging in my chest, the pulse pounding in my ears. I push it all down—the sickness thrashing in my stomach, the panic clawing at my insides—and smile. “You caught me. Got a few facts wrong, though. Not surprising. Not a lot going on in that thick skull of yours, is there?”
Another sharp pain, this time Preacher’s gun colliding with the soft spot between my shoulders. Grace screams as I crumple to the ground. It takes me a second to gather the strength to push myself back up to my knees, but I manage.
“You’ve got thirty seconds to explain,” Axe says. “And if I’m not satisfied with your answer, I’m gonna paint your walls with Grace’s brains. And then I’m gonna kill you.”
Time stops. I lock eyes with Grace. Her face is still as stone. Signature scowl in place. She’s doing that thing she does, where she steels her spine, clenches her fists, takes in a small breath. Slips on a mask of challenge.
Do it. Try me. Make me. I dare you.
The look I’ve come to love.