Was it fucked up that I’d prefer this dipshit at my back than my council anyway?
Fucking Coshocton assholes. West Orange brothers were the only ones who goddamn mattered, anyway.
Although, where the hell was Digger? Where the fuck was my Enforcer?
Racing down the single track that led to the main road, I gunned it once we were off the uneven ground then headed toward my subdivision.
Traffic swerved, horns blaring as I rode through them like the hounds of hell were biting at my ankles, but I ignored the fuckers, not even giving them enough attention to flip them the bird.
The wind whistled in my ears, but the white noise was cleansing. It let me think about my next steps. About how I was going to resolve this fuck up when it was likely that, by the end of the day, my family and I, North as well, would be goddamn dead.
If the entire chapter was against us, if they were just waiting to reclaim their club, then we were screwed. In more ways than one. Cyan hadn’t fucking survived that bastard just to die today, and there was no way in hell any of those fuckers were going to touch my Old Lady.
Rage filled me, cleansing me, strengthening me. Awakening me even more. This was like a dose of meth and coke at the same time, only without the fatal consequences.
I clenched my fingers around the handlebar, riding toward my death, prepared for it so long as they goddamn lived. Those fuckers wanted me. Not my woman and kid. I was the end goal. I could handle that, would easily trade myself for their safety.
That, I realized, was how I’d get them out alive.
An exchange.
Simple.
My heart settled. A trade. That was all we needed here.
As I raced toward the gates, out of nowhere, the whistle of the wind changed, shifted, turning into a roar that sent my heart pumping again. It shivered over my skin, bringing every single nerve ending in my body to life.
Praying that I wasn’t wrong, I twisted my head around, careful not to whirl into traffic and felt a relief more fucking pure than newly processed heroin shift through me.
The chapter was there.
In the distance.
Dozens of bikes, of men… my brothers.
Riding to me, not already at my house.
Not waiting to kill my family and me.
The rumble on the ground was sweeter than any high I’d experienced in my fucking life. It shot through my limbs, sank into my bones as they rode into war with me, not against me.
I released a full breath, the first since I’d heard Kendra’s voice, and more confident now, if still confused as to where they’d all goddamn been, I made it to the subdivision.
The sight of blood in the gatehouse had my nostrils flaring with anger. I’d suspected this was likely, but that didn’t mean I was happy to be right.
It dripped down the back wall of the booth, blood and brain matter splattered there like some kind of modern work of art.
Jaw clenched, I rode through the open gates, spotting a crumpled Paul on the ground as I passed.
The idiocy of the fuckers behind this told me they had no business being anything other than grunt workers, never mind the leaders of an MC.
Who the fuck took out an unarmed security guard?
Then, if that wasn’t bad enough, left the body and the evidence behind and didn’t expect the cops to be called?
"What a fucking waste," I rasped under my breath, feeling bad for Paul because if I hadn’t picked this subdivision, he’d still be goddamn alive.
Someone else I feared for?
Jump.
As I raced through the streets, well aware that how fast I was riding and the number of brothers roaring up behind me were drawing attention from the neighbors, I hoped to fuck the sheriff would be heading toward us sooner rather than goddamn later. I’d never call ‘em, but I didn’t have to when old bats had one finger on the ‘9’ and the ‘1’ whenever I rode by alone, never mind when I brought my whole chapter with me.
When I pulled up to my street, I absorbed all the information my eyes shot my way. Digger’s house looked shut up, no sign of life there, but Jump’s? He was flat out on the front yard, face down. I ground my teeth, accepting another soul’s loss on my conscience, before I saw someone in the doorway.
His woman.
Darla, I thought her name was.
She was dead too.
The fucking bastards had killed his Old Lady.
Was it too early for school to be out? I genuinely didn’t know what time it was, but I just hoped to Christ it wasn’t, otherwise his kid could be dead as well.
Aside from the bikes parked on the lawn I fucking mowed week in and week out, all looked quiet at my house. There was no one in the windows, no one by the door. As I pulled up on the road, I climbed off and stared at what had been, until this afternoon, my home.
Hands clenched at my side, I started on the walkway as North pulled up behind me.
"Storm? Where the fuck are you going?" he called out.
"They want me," was my calm reply, but my voice was quiet enough for the roar of my brothers’ hogs to drown it.
I scanned the building’s façade, coming up with nothing apart from a shadow in the kitchen window that made me think someone had their eyes on me.
When they didn’t shoot, I figured this was what they wanted, although what their plan was, I didn’t have a fucking clue.
Thudding footsteps pounded behind me, and someone dragged my arm, twisting me around and bringing me to a halt. As they did, the scent of smoke hit my nostrils and I frowned, peering up at a soot-covered Digger.
"There was a fire at the warehouse over in Lafayette. Called in as many brothers as I could. We’d have been here sooner—"
"You got here plenty fast."
Digger let out a gruff exhalation. "What the fuck’s going on, man? What’s the Code Red?"
"Kendra and those ex-Sinners are in there. They’re holding my family hostage."
He sucked in a breath. "You can’t go in there. Not if they’re leveraging them for you. The second they get you, is the second they’ll blow you all apart. You saw what they did to Paul."
"Jump and his Old Lady too."
Digger’s mouth tensed but he nodded. "Fucking bastards."
"Where’s MC?" I rasped.
"She’s at the diner."
"You sure?"
"Positive. She checks in."
"Whatever happens today, Digger, I need you to promise me something."
"Anything, man. Any-fucking-thing."
Just thinking of Kendra had my heart pounding. "You kill that bitch. You make sure Kendra dies—"
He grabbed my arm. "I’ll leave that job to you."
"I’ll do whatever they fucking want to make sure K and Cy are safe, Digger. I don’t expect to make it—"
"Shut the fuck up." He grunted, smashed a fist into my shoulder, then growled, "What’s their end game here?"
"I don’t know. North gave me intel on that Sticky fucker. They were talking about overturning me as Prez. They want the clubhouse back. No idea why they brought the war to my home, unless it’s because of Kendra."
"Would she have that much power over them?"
"Maybe, maybe not."
I twisted around and caught a sight of a dirty SL who hovered a few feet away. It seemed too much of a coincidence for the fire not to have been set by these bastards as a diversion and I just hadn’t gotten the memo.