I couldn't wait to get my woman back, even more than I wanted to put a bullet in Fang's head for what he'd done. Love's a powerful fucking thing when it tames rage, tames hate, and everything else in between. There was a lot to snarl at in all this, but mostly, I just wanted her home.
She'd never get off my bike or outta my bed after this. Never. The first thing I was gonna do when I had her again was squeeze her so fucking tight she'd never dream about walking into harm's way for the rest of her life. Later, I'd spank her pretty ass raw for doing this.
What I really missed was those lips. Their taste, their softness, their sweet flutter on mine like honest-to-fuck pixie wings.
I'd been too soft, too distracted with club business. The realization hit me right between the eyes like a hot sword boring into my skull. Now, my entire soul bled for her, bled dirty red blood from a scalding wound that wouldn't close 'til I had what was mine pressed up against me again.
There was no other cure. Nothing else would undo the damage I'd taken, my failure to keep what was mine close as my own gun.
“Two hours!” Blackjack's voice howled near the front of the column. “Let's fucking go, boys.”
A dozen engines growled, igniting as one, joined by a few stragglers at the end. I strapped on my helmet and felt the comforting purr of my Harley beneath me. She'd always been a fine war horse, and now I needed her to carry me to my girl.
Blackjack pulled out first. We all hit the highway and rode down toward Redding. I was near the front with Rabid and the redhead on his bike, only separated by Blackjack and Blaze by Tank. It was a weird, motley platoon of sworn enemies riding toward hell, joined together in a fucked up marriage all about saving all the asses in the leather seats today. Motorcycles rumbled behind me, at least ten of them, and then a couple trucks from both clubs bringing up the rear.
Blackjack agreed to meet Fang near a hilly wilderness outside town. We'd promised him everything, but we knew he'd be on alert for us fucking him over. Hoped like hell the ruse I had planned would be such a shock he wouldn't see it coming.
It all came down to conscience. Fang didn't have one – some devil had ripped it outta him and chewed it up ages ago – but did the rest of the club? We were about to find out.
The column slowed when we roared onto the unpaved road, heading for the forest clearing. They were parked by the trees. Legions waiting for us.
Even my eyes bugged out when I saw how many Grizzlies Fang brought to cover his ass. Fuck, he must've had half the Tacoma and Portland charters, plus more brothers from Idaho. Basically, every able bodied man who wasn't busy getting killed down south by the cartel's raiders.
Shit. There must've been a hundred guys to our fifteen, possibly more, and he was fully surrounded. Protected.
Blaze and Blackjack stopped a few feet away, undaunted by the huge army facing them. I pulled up next to them and Rabid did too. My brother looked nervous as shit, keeping his hands on the redhead 'til she pulled away forcefully.
My eyes scanned the guys next to Fang and Crack. Fuck, they were supposed to do the exchange here!
Where the fuck was she? Where'd he put my girl? My heart forced adrenaline loaded waves into my blood. I shook, sweated, rubbed the nine millimeter in my belt.
Easy, I told myself. They'll see that shit and hit you between the eyes before you take a single step forward if you make a dumb move.
She's gotta be here somewhere. He wouldn't have left her at the clubhouse with nobody there on guard duty.
I counted all the bastards who'd stuck with him from my club. Rough, Gnaw, Pitbull, Chubb...five more prospects past them. No, they were all there. That meant Missy had to be with them, tucked back in the crowd, maybe bound up in one of their fucking trucks.
Blackjack looked at me and nodded. I walked with him and Blaze. Christa moved up several steps behind me. Rabid had to hang back, or else there'd be more guys on the other side coming to meet us besides Fang and Crack.
Nobody wanted that shit. More brothers eyeball-to-eyeball meant more danger.
“What the hell's this?” Fang grunted, stopping in the middle. “I asked for the video, the rats, and a confession. Didn't ask to see this fucking bitch again.”
He spat at the ground. Blaze grabbed the small black package underneath one arm and threw it on the ground.
“Here, asshole. Five copies. There's the master, plus the fucking camera it was shot on. That's everything.”
Fang reached down and picked it up, grinning on his way up. He looked at me, and then at Blackjack.
“Okay. Let's go, boys. We've got a nice trial ready out back with all your brothers. Promise we'll make it quick, just as soon as one of you fucks tells us straight up where that video came from.”
Trial. Right. Never heard the shallow graves he probably had waiting in the woods called that before.
I looked him in the eye and reached for the redhead, grabbing her hand. “I shot that fucking video,” I said loudly, making sure everybody could hear.