“None of us are going anywhere, Prez. Not today. We’ll find this cunt and we’ll take him out before he gets near any of us again, let alone Sadie.”
“I really hope that’s true, Savage. We can’t have this happening again. We can’t lose our men.”
“Fatalities?”
“Two,” he admits, pain laced through his voice.
“Fuck,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck as I once again survey the scene around us.
“Everyone else has flesh wounds.” He falls silent for a few moments as a brother is loaded onto a gurney and pushed into the back of an ambulance for treatment.
More sirens approach, and only seconds later a fire truck appears.
“We need to find out where that cunt is and put him down. I’m done being controlled by a fucking feral Reaper.”
“You and me both, Prez. You and me both.” I never thought I’d say it, but I want life to go back to normal. Which means I actually want to go back to school.
I help the guys tidy up the yard once the fire crew and Chief Statham give us the nod before following my brothers into the clubhouse for a very strong drink.
Something tells me we’re going to need plenty of it, because this is only the beginning. I can feel it, dread twisting up my stomach.
Darren Creed isn’t going to give up this fight easily. He clearly wants something from us, and I get the impression it’s more than just our blood…
And anything but his own death won’t be good enough to put an end to it.
28
Sadie
By the time the cops leave, it’s late. The mood in the clubhouse is somber as my dad and his friends—his family—mourn the loss of Cooper and Jango.
Wes rubs soothing circles on my knee as we sit on the banquette, watching my dad, Micky, Rhett, and some of the other guys discuss what to do next. I half expected him to call Church, but things are different now.
Darren has crossed a line. It’s a declaration of war, and I know it’ll only be a short time before they ride out to seek revenge.
A shiver goes through me, and Wes squeezes my thigh. “You hanging in there?” he asks me.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” I force a smile.
“Sadie Ray.” Dad calls me over, and I get up and go to him. He pulls me into his arms, dropping a kiss on my head. “I want you to get some rest, okay? The same goes for everyone else.” His voice ripples around the room. “There’s nothing more we can do tonight. This place is on lockdown; nothing is coming in or out. Police Chief Statham is leaving some of his guys out front. We’re safe, for now.”
He tenses beside me, and I peek up at him, laying my head on his arm. Family, this club, is everything to my dad, so I know this is killing him. But he’ll do what needs to be done to make sure Darren Creed is wiped off the face of the Earth.
“You’re not going to go out there tonight, right?” I ask him quietly.
Rhett catches my eye, something passing between us. He wants to go after Darren, I see it simmering in his murderous gaze. And I don’t blame him. Part of me wants to go after him too. But I know my limitations, and what happened tonight proves Darren isn’t just out to make a noise.
He’s out to destroy the Sinners.
A commotion behind us draws my attention, and I watch as some of our guys file out of the hall, armed to the teeth with an array of firearms. They each nod to my dad and then slip out of the clubhouse, no doubt to take up their posts around the compound for the night.
The cops might be guarding us beyond the gate, but Sinners protect their own. It’s how it’s always been, how it always will be.
“Didn’t think I’d see this again in my lifetime,” Dad murmurs, and I hug him tighter.
I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking there will be more bloodshed before this is over, and all I can do is pray it isn’t anyone I care about. Because if I lost him or Rhett, Dane or Wes, I don’t know what I’d do.
“Watch her,” Dad says to Rhett, handing me over to him.
Rhett wraps a possessive arm around my waist and guides me back toward our friends. Quinn and River are with the old ladies, huddled around a table, holding each other. Aunt Dee and Rosita will make sure everyone has somewhere to sleep tonight—not that it will come easy for anyone.
“Riv,” Rhett calls, and she walks over to us. He reaches for her. “I want you with me tonight, okay?”
She nods.
“You and Pretty Boy can bunk in with Dane.” Rhett gazes down at me.
“Yeah, okay.” I lean up and graze my mouth against his. He stills but then melts into the kiss, sliding his tongue past my lips to tangle it with mine.
We have an audience, but I don’t care. He could have been hurt earlier. Dane was hurt.
“Promise me you won’t do anything reckless.”
“I’ll be right here with River, I swear.”
With a small nod, I take Wes's hand and lead him to find Dane. He went to get cleaned up, so it’s hardly a surprise we find him in his room, just coming out of the shower.
“I… shit, let me get dressed,” he blurts out, ducking back into the bathroom.
Wes shoots me a knowing look, and my stomach churns at the image of the scars littering his back. But he doesn’t ask, and I don’t offer up any details; it’s not my story to tell.
“I should probably call my mom,” he says. “She’s been blowing up my cell.”
“What will you tell her?”
“I’ll think of something. Don’t worry about it.” He digs his cell phone out of his pocket before dropping down on the small couch.
I knock on the bathroom door. “Dane, are you okay in there?”
“Yeah.”
But he doesn’t sound okay.
I try the handle and find it unlocked, so I slip inside. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He grimaces with pain.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’ll live.” His t-shirt is clutched between his fingers as he braces himself over the sink.
“Your back,” I say, noticing the fresh grazes.
“Yeah, the blast must have ripped open the new skin.”
I move closer, ghosting my fingers over the angry red welts, but I don’t mention the old scars. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.
Pressing my body into Dane’s, careful not to touch his injuries, I slide my arms around his waist and rest my cheek on his arm.
“Why is he doing this?” I whisper over the lump in my throat.
“Because he’s a fucking psycho hell-bent on revenge.” His eyes meet mine in the mirror, swirling with anger.
I still can’t shake the feeling that we’re missing something. But Dane seems so weary I don’t want to bring it up.
“We should get some rest,” I suggest.
“What’s Pretty Boy doing?”
“Calling his mom.”
“Do you think she’s okay with his old man? I can’t help but think we shouldn’t have left her there.”
“Wes says she is. It’s not really our place to get involved. His dad hates the club; if he finds out Wes is here…” I trail off, hoping that day never comes.