He got into 2-Stroke’s face, Dean’s expression fixed like granite. “There was no other choice, no decision in this matter. You’re my brother.”
2-Stroke didn’t budge, standing up to his brother with just as much conviction. “And you abandoned us. You left us with that fucking madman and his vindictive wife. We were abused and terrorized while you were out saving the country.”
“I’m sorry, Neo. I’m sorry about Riley and what you had to do to protect the both of you. You’re right. I left. I wanted to escape. He was pushing me into the club, and I wasn’t going to play Dad’s damned games anymore. I wanted nothing to do with it.”
“He took his anger out on us. He was so damn pissed when you told him you enlisted and was leaving. He trashed the house for an hour. I locked us into Riley’s room until he was spent. He drank himself into a blackout.”
A look of anger and frustration on his face, Dean shook his head and stared off into space. Finally, he looked at 2-Stroke, the anger replaced by weariness. Dean cupped 2-Stroke’s neck and pressed his forehead to 2-Stroke’s, his grip tight. “I had no idea. If I had stayed, I would probably be in jail right now. If not for his murder, then for other crimes that MC committed in the name of brotherhood.” He shook 2-Stroke gently. “They had no idea what brotherhood, real brotherhood, means.”
2-Stroke agreed completely. He sighed, his shoulders relaxing, still in his brother’s fierce grip. A surge of love for him replaced all the other noise in his head. The bottom line is Dean gave up everything to be here for him. How could he really fault that? It went a long way in repairing some of the wounds between them. “You think that coming here makes up for it?”
Separating from his brother, 2-Stroke tucked his hands in his pockets. “No, I don’t. But I wasn’t going to repeat my mistake and leave you and Chry to fend for yourselves.”
2-Stroke looked away. There was so much more to say, but he’d gotten a lot of his thoughts out. It would have to do for now. He’d stayed away long enough. 2-Stroke folded his arms, smiling slightly. It did his heart good knowing that Alek was safe. He couldn’t have carried one more kid on his conscience. “You saved Alek.”
“Yeah, he was in a cell and his uncle was going to kill him when he got back from killing you and Chry.”
“Do you think it’s going to be worth it?”
Dean looked away and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath that seemed painful to him. “Yeah, it will.” He opened his eyes and 2-Stroke realized it was going to be tough on him, but he was square with his decision. “Some things can’t be undone, Neo. I know that. But moving forward is all we can do. Don’t shut me out again. Can you promise me that?”
“I can promise you that I will talk about what happened with you when we have the time to work it out. All these years, I’ve held it inside and gone nowhere. We can make a new start. We’re brothers, right?”
“Damn right.” Dean one arm hugged him hard and 2-Stroke returned the embrace, holding on as tight as Dean was holding him. “How is she?”
Tightening his jaw against the jolt of pain, 2-Stroke closed his eyes, the sudden thickness in his chest crowding his breath. “She’s holding on, but she’s in bad shape. We won’t be able to move for at least a week…if she pulls through.” The hollow sensation in his gut spread.
“She will pull through. She’s tougher than the both of us.”
2-Stroke nodded. “You guys be careful and keep a low profile like Fast Lane said.” He heard the sound of motorcycles again. “The Kamchatka Bears are here, and I think they’re working for Darko. They’re all over the place looking for me and Chry.”
“Copy that.”
“I better get back.” He pulled up his hoodie and started for the door.
“You be careful, too, little bro. We have some things to discuss.”
By the time he left the hotel, 2-Stroke’s anger had settled into a lump in the pit of his stomach. He consoled himself with the fact that Dean was here. He’d come to help him. It was significant that he was willing to give up everything he loved and worked for to save his little brother. 2-Stroke didn’t want that for Dean, but it was out of his hands. The Navy didn’t approve of their sailors going off on unsanctioned rescue missions, especially when they could set off an international incident.
But there was no negotiating with Darko and Zasha. He and Chry were dead as soon as the pair found them. There was no more leniency in them. He could have only hoped the helicopter crash would have taken care of their problem, but from the numbers of the Bears riding roughshod in this city, it was clear to 2-Stroke it would be a matter of time before they found them.
He avoided the Bears easily, and about halfway back to the safehouse, it started to snow, big fat flakes that floated down like feathers. It coated the trees and the sidewalk, lampposts and cars until there was nothing but a blanket of white.
He approached the house, taking several precautions to make sure he wasn’t followed, then slipped inside the back door and locked it. Chry was still unconscious when he got upstairs to the bedroom, but her color was a bit better.
“Are you all right?” Saint asked.
“I’m better. So, Saint, give it to me straight. How is she?”
“I believe the bullet missed internal organs. She’d be showing signs if she was bleeding internally. I don’t believe that’s the case. The infection is the main concern here. We’re doing what we need to do to keep her alive and recovering. She has to fight off the infection, then I can stitch the wound.”
“We have a problem. It looks like there’s a motorcycle gang on Darko’s payroll. Soviet, ruthless. When can she travel?”
“Well, I would prescribe that she rest for four to six weeks, but since that’s not possible with our circumstances, she could travel in a week at the very least.”
“That’s about all we have, I think. The people looking for us won’t rest until they find us.”
Feeling like his purpose was clear, he nodded toward Marta. “I’ll take the food now. I need to keep strong.”
“Then you’ll rest?”
“After I take a turn with Chry so both of you can have a short break.”
Marta handed him a plate and Saint squeezed his shoulder as he passed. “We’ll be right back.”
Chry twisted and turned on the bed, caught in the terrible hold of her fever. The anger he had experienced at the hotel was gone, replaced by a haunting ache that sat squarely in the middle of his chest. He set the plate aside, the heaviness in his chest expanding. Clenching his jaw against it, he bent down and gathered her to him. Her hair was like silk against his skin as he cradled her upper body in his arms.
“It’s snowing outside,” he said. “You always wanted to see snow. Remember? You used to say growing up in LA was the pits. You wanted to sled and ski. We did ice skate though at the local rink. You with your rosy cheeks and that infectious laughter.” The words poured out of him, his voice breaking. “I was on the outside looking in all that time. I was in shock and numb over Riley’s death and watching Pierce die from my own hands. I was heartsick about Riley, but I was glad that Pierce was dead. It seemed wrong but felt so right. He deserved it. Didn’t he? Maybe my judgment is flawed. Maybe I can’t be a neutral observer. Tell me he deserved it.” The pain intensified and he gasped. “Don’t leave me, Chry, please,” he whispered. “I won’t leave you again. I promise. I was such an idiot thinking that I didn’t matter. That I had to sacrifice everything to make it all right in my head. But I’m all right now. I do matter. I matter to Dean and to the Navy and to all my brothers in arms. But most importantly, I matter to you,” he muttered fiercely, all the tears he’d never shed burning down his face, soaking into her hair.