“It’s raining. It doesn’t matter,” I say and he nods in agreement. A few guys chuckle because he’s so out of it.
“Need to go in gun’s blazing. He’s prepared, but I can’t,” Bolt sits on Moose’s bike. “I can’t think.” He presses his hand against his forehead. “Fuck, that shit gives you a killer headache.”
“Anvil, take Bolt back to the clubhouse and keep an eye on him,” Mercy orders. “If we aren’t back in two hours, reach out to Reaper and get his guys to help us. Okay?”
Anvil nods and makes his way through the bikes in his way before helping Bolt to his bike. With one arm wrapped around Anvil’s waist, he looks at me over his shoulder, lightning striking over the mountain behind him. “You need to give her more credit. She’s a fighter, Whistler. She did what no one wanted to admit needed to be done. Don’t be mad at her,” he says before Anvil gives me a tight departing smile as he helps Bolt onto the bike.
I know she’s a fighter. Charlie doesn’t realize that’s exactly what she is. She’s been beaten down for so long, the fighter inside her needed time to heal, and now she’s ready to unleash it.
Fighter or not, I’m not willing to let her go into war alone.
I reach behind me and slide my bat out of its holster and glare at the other side of the bridge. My knee is throbbing, but the pain doesn’t compare to the agony of losing her. I’ll swing until my last breath. I do something I haven’t done in a long time, I run.
No, I don’t run.
I sprint. No more waiting, no more dying, no more uncertainty.
It’s time to kill.
I hear the bikes behind me and a few shouts to tell me to stop, but nothing can stop me unless a bullet hits me between the eyes. I jump over my fallen bike, not giving a fuck about the machine. It can be replaced.
Charlie cannot.
My boots hit the water puddling on the road causing splashes to add to the wetness of my clothes.
I slide to a stop, the mud clinging to the bottom of my boots, and halt just before the door.
“I have your back,” One reassures me with the cock of his gun.
“We all do,” Prez says and everyone either has a gun or knives, like Tutu. He has a bright pink knife with a ballerina on it, hence how he got his name.
But we don’t know the story behind the blade. All I know is that he always has it with him.
Wiping my face to clear the rain out of my eyes, I reach for the handle and twist, expecting it to be locked but it isn’t. It opens easily with a familiar groan I’ve heard in Taylor’s videos.
The first thing I do is swing without looking just in case someone is on the other side of this door, but I hit air. With slow, deliberate steps, I keep my bat at the ready and head down the metal staircase. There’s water dripping and tinging against the staircase. Pale yellow lights illuminate the red walls of the mountain his headquarters are built into. There’s no noise, just the rainwater causing the metal to sing.
Below are lines of tables. One has what looks like thousands of purple pills and on another table is packaging and on the third is product ready to be shipped.
This area is smaller than I thought. There isn’t anywhere else to go except through the door in the back right corner.
Once I step foot on the main floor, I make sure to check every corner of the room, so I don’t miss anything.
Brighter lights turn on, causing me to go blind for a second. My eyes adjust and that’s when I see floor-to-ceiling windows going from right to left.
“Whistler.” One shakes me and points ahead.
Behind the glass, sitting in the dark minus a spotlight, is Taylor and Charlie. Taylor is in bad shape. She’s not wearing any clothes and she’s taken some hard hits. She’s bound and gagged while Charlie is being held by Kenneth. He kisses her cheek, and I slam my fist against the glass.
“Took you long enough,” he huffs, playing annoyance.
Since I can’t see the floor because it’s so dark, Kenneth walks around Charlie with his hand around her throat. Her hands are tied behind her back. Her eyes lock onto mine and it’s like she’s accepted her fate.
The door to the right has to lead in there.
“Why don’t you leave the women alone and come pick on someone your own size, you sorry son of a bitch.”
He grins wickedly, a villain living in plain sight not bothering to hide his true intentions. “Oh, I plan on it, Whistler. You’ve ruined what’s mine and what took so many years to break,” he says just as I try to open the door that leads into the other room.
It’s locked.
“She’s not meant to be broken,” I sneer.
“I beg to differ.” He runs his fingers down her body and makes a sound in the back of his throat. “She’s so easy to bend to my will. Why would I want any other?”
Fury unlike anything I’ve ever felt fuels me and I slam my foot against the door, the metal denting but not breaking.
“Let me in there! You fucking coward.”
“Maybe,” he dwells on it for a moment. “I’m a coward in control, though. You can’t stop this drug. My father is gone and distributing it elsewhere, planning the day to ruin Charlie’s father.”
Yeah, that’s not going to happen. We will find him before that can happen. “You think I’m here for the drug? I don’t give a fuck about the drug. You have my family in your hands, and I swear to god, I’m going to enjoy ripping you to shreds.”
He pulls down a gas mask and cackles. “We’ll see.” He presses a button, and the room Taylor and Charlie are in begins to fill with some sort of gas. He elbows Charlie in the face and her eyes roll to the back of her head as she falls on the floor.
Taylor screams and the memory of her being dragged into a dark room plays in my mind. This must be the room.
“Charlie! Charlie, I’m coming, okay?” I’m not leaving without her. I keep trying to break the door down, but I’m not getting anywhere. A small crack begins to form, and the gas begins to leak out.
Shit.
The lights go out and Taylor screams again before it fades into nothing. I begin to sway as the gas begins to affect me and I remember Bolt saying how the tranq makes you feel. I wonder if this gas is made with the same drug.
I can’t see since everything is dark, but I hear loud thuds hitting the ground and when the lights turn back on, Kenneth is standing in the middle of the room and the only man left standing is me. All my MC brothers are down, passed out from the gas, and I know I’m next.
“You mother fucker.” I swing the bat, missing when I see double of him.
“Oh, you’re going to be too easy. What’s Charlie see in you dumb bikers anyway? You can’t give her what I can.” He steps forward and I swing again, missing as he turns to the left, dodging the hit.
I never miss.
“I can give her the one thing you never could.” I swing again but this time I clip his arm and he shouts from the nails tearing his skin.
“What’s that?” he seethes.
“Love,” I answer, taking another swing but there are three of him now. I’m getting dizzier.
“Idiot,” he says, his voice muffled by the mask. “Love means nothing. Love gets you nothing.”