His fingers twitched through the glove. Oh, God. I knew he was getting ready to cut her throat, maybe kill her on the spot, and I started to squirm, forcing my vision to work again.
“No,” Blackjack said coldly. “I expect you to scream like the miserable disgrace to this club you are when you're laid out on the floor. Rabid!”
Two gunshots rang out like thunder bolts. I never knew who drew first and fired. Brass howled through his gag, his body writhing in frustration or relief – I couldn't tell which.
Serial roared, collapsing on the floor, away from Jackie. He screamed and screamed as blood pooled out the hole in his back. His hands twitched and he struggled on the ground, but he couldn't seem to get back up.
Against the wall, the long haired man who'd helped carry Brass in hit the floor, a hole in his head. He was dead before he hit the concrete. Rabid pointed his gun at the other two against the wall.
“Drop your fucking weapons, brothers. I'm not gonna tell you again!”
The two men reached to their waists and the metal clacked on the floor. One kick and they slid it over to Rabid, who caught up with Serial on the floor, standing over him.
Blackjack turned to me and gave a little nod. Then he walked over to Brass. Pulling out a knife and kneeling, he sliced the cords binding his wrists. He cut the gag next, moving to his boots last.
“Jesus, son. It's a good thing I didn't wait a second longer. You'd have rubbed your hands too raw to deal with –“
Brass didn't wait for him to finish. As soon as Blackjack finished with the bindings holding his boots, he bolted up, amazingly fast for a man who'd just taken a beating.
He lunged, landed on Serial, snarling like a wild cougar. The psycho couldn't put up much of a fight. Brass ripped the Mauler off his hand and quickly pushed his own fingers into it, holding it over Serial's face for one agonizing second.
“No, Brass! No, brother...”
With his free hand, Brass ripped him up, bashing his forehead on Serial's before letting his head slump again. “Don't you ever fucking call me that again. You were never my brother, and you never will be. Not even in hell...”
I looked away as he tore into the psychopath's face. Serial only shrieked for about a minute before his cries became gurgling rasps. Then there was nothing at all.
I opened my eyes, first checking to make sure Jackie was still out. Thank God for small favors, because she was.
Blackjack stood over my man and extended a hand. Brass ripped off the blood covered Mauler glove and let it fall on Serial's corpse.
“Why, brother?” Brass asked, taking his hand and standing on his feet again.
“Because I'm tired of watching my club turn into a sadistic freak show under Fang. I've made my choice. Let's kick his ass off the throne. We already tried the democratic way, and it didn't work. It never does when brothers are shaking in their boots while they vote. Here.”
The older man reached into his pocket and handed Brass something. It must've been a set of keys by the way they jingled.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Blackjack growled. “Take the girls somewhere safe. Use my truck. Head north to Oregon – Klamath – and don't do anything 'til you hear more from me. Rabid and I are gonna stay behind and clean this mess up while we figure out who we can trust.”
Brass looked back at me, his eyes wide. He was full killer then, his face spattered with dead Serial's blood, and it was all over his cut, his jeans, and his shirt too. He stopped, giving Blackjack a big hug, pounding his back until the old man fought him off.
“Go. We've got surprise on our side. Now we just need time.”
Brass ran to me. I shook when he wrapped his arms around me, loosening my restraints with the knife in his hand. As soon as I was free, he passed me the switchblade and I ran to Jackie, getting her untied and then lifting her into my arms.
I checked her pulse and breathing. Normal.
“Brass?” I turned.
He was right behind me, waiting in all his blood flecked glory. “You heard the man. We gotta fucking go. No time to stop at the apartment or anywhere else. You got her?”
I nodded. Brass made one more stop near the door, giving Rabid a manly slap on the shoulder.
“Told you I had your back, brother. Me and Blackjack both, soon as we found out what was coming tonight.”
Brass nodded at the lean, muscular man, the way a man can only look at a true brother. I understood then: these guys were family after all. And if the last few weeks taught me anything, it's that there's nothing like embracing family when you don't know if you'll see them alive again.
Jackie was a heavy load in my arms. She'd grown since the last time I ever moved her, years ago at this point. When Brass turned, he saw me struggling, and reached out. I passed her into his strong arms, and we were off.