18

JERICHO

Everything about the run was off from the jump. I’d left Alba’s house with jitters in my gut, but I told myself that was because of the wild fucking scene Alba and I had shot the night before and not because of what I was about to do in the name of the MC.

I still had crop marks across my ass, and every time I moved, I thought of her. Every time my cut rubbed around where she’d dug her nails into my shoulders, I thought of her. Our sex was primal and passionate and fucking amazing.

“You all right, brother?” Hollywood asked, putting his hands on my shoulders to give me a shake.

I flicked my cigarette to the ground and nodded. “Yeah, man. You all right?”

“Freshly hydrated, caffeinated, and masturbated.” Then he clapped the side of my face and winked. I shoved him away and gave him a fake punch to the gut.

“Fuck off,” I said.

He laughed and circled around to his bike, swinging one giant leg over it. “You ready to do this?”

I nodded and sat on my Harley. “Let’s ride.”

It only took an hour to get to the drop, our pack of brothers twenty minutes behind us. We were supposed to set off the alarms, draw the guards out, and lead them away so our guys could swoop in for the kill. Crow had a truck and the rest of the club as an armed escort. While Hollywood and I distracted these cocksuckers, the crew would take the shipment and haul ass back to our turf.

All was going well until I saw more guys than we’d expected. More cars meant more witnesses.

“There’s at least fifteen here,” I whispered to Hollywood.

“You don’t think you can lose them?”

“All of them might not chase me.”

“You want me to call it in?” Hollywood glanced from me to the guys on the dock, where they directed the crane as it dropped a container onto the ground.

I swallowed and weighed the risk. Odds were, half of them followed me. Maybe three or four turned back after ten minutes, leaving three to fight off once I met up with Trojan and the guys. I could handle those odds.

“Nah,” I said, kicking my bike to life. “Stick to the plan.”

I drove closer, pulling up outside the locked gate a few feet away from where they unloaded the shipment right next to their parked cars. I revved my engine to draw their attention.

“Hey, you cocksuckers.” I held up my gun, shooting out the window to the Mercedes closest to me. Next came the Molotov cocktail, a Caputi specialty. The bottle shattered against the seat, lighting the whole car on fire, and when I went to shoot at the gas tank, it exploded in a massive ball of flames. I rode by, gave them the finger, and took off as fast as I could.

Shouts and curses echoed behind me, and if I knew anything about these idiots, they’d chase first and wonder if it was a trap later. When I chanced a glance over my shoulder, I had at least three cars on my tail.

Three!

That’s more than half the fucking crew. They’d just left the shipment?

Fuck. I didn’t know who was stupider, them or me. Because if I got caught, this was it. I was fucking done. They’d pull all my limbs off my body before they killed me. I’d pray for death days before it would happen.

I could not get caught.

My heart pounded as I kicked it into the next gear, hauling ass over the backcountry roads. The roars of the engines behind me got closer, and a shot echoed out through the night air, a snapping tree at my right drawing my attention for a millisecond.

They’re shooting at me.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I went faster. Harder. Rubber to the asphalt. Pulse in my throat. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. My bike hugged the turns like she’d been made for it, and fuck yeah, she had. I’d built her for this.

Go, baby, go. Show them what we can do.

“Wooooo!” I shouted into the night as we went faster.

I couldn’t make it too hard, so I slowed down to give them the temptation of shooting at me again. I swear to fucking God a bullet whizzed by my head. It missed me by a centimeter. I ducked lower and pushed the bike until she whined and screamed and begged for more.

God, it gave me a rush. All this power. This burst of life. Right between my legs.

“We know who you are, you Rose piece of shit,” one of them snarled.

“We’re coming for you,” another one added.

I only laughed and gave them the finger.

“Get back here, you bastard!”

Slip had been specific. I had to make it to the rendezvous point by the deadline. That gave me no room to second guess what might have happened back at the docks. I had to trust that they could handle it, no matter what it was. I kept going.

Like I’d predicted, fifteen minutes into the chase, the car at the back turned around. A few minutes closer to Rose territory, the second one headed back. By the time I was there, it was just me and the Merc on my ass.

I pulled up to the spot where Trojan, Bear, and Saint came out of the shadows, guns drawn and shooting at the Merc’s tires. The car spun out, coming to a hard stop against a tree on the side of the road. My guys swarmed it. I parked my bike and climbed off, grabbing my nine to join the battle.

Trojan fired at the driver as he held up a gun, nailing him in the chest. Saint hit the guy getting out of the passenger seat. And the guy in the back? Bear yanked him out of his seat and put him on his knees in front of us.

The dude smiled, his teeth bloody and his nose broken. His suit was now covered in mud and blood, and by the time we were done with him, probably his piss and shit, too.

“You stupid, dumb motherfuckers,” he murmured, glancing between us.

“You’re the one on your knees, you piece of Caputi shit.” Bear held his pistol at the dude’s temple.

The Caputi laughed, spitting blood at my feet and wiping his hands back through his shiny hair. “How many of your stupid, mangy shitheads did you bring out tonight? All of them, I hope.”

My eyebrows furrowed, uneasiness slithering into my stomach. Why the hell would he say that? Unless—

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I was even more confused when I saw Selene’s name.

She knew not to call unless it was important.

“Hey,” I said. “What’s—”

“They’re here,” Selene said, in between deep pants. Like she was huffing it through a workout. “Caputi drew you out to the docks so his bastards could sneak on our property.”

“What?” My stomach dropped. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The security alarms tripped at the garage. I came out to see what it was. There’s five of them.”

What the fuck?

All the tumblers fell together in my mind. The garage. Alba’s house. It sat on Aris’s property, SR property. Deep in those woods, we had a few big-ass storage sheds where we housed some of the MC’s ammunition and dirty cash. This had been a trap, but not for the Caputis. This had been a trap for us. We were the fucking idiots here.

“Selene,” I said. “Go back to the clubhouse. Right the fuck now.”

“What’s wrong?” Bear narrowed his eyes.

“This was a decoy. Caputi’s after the shed.” I raced over to my bike and hopped back on, kicking it to life. “Selene, get to the clubhouse.”

Trojan shouted on the phone to one of our brothers up by the dock. “How many down?” A pause. Is it bad?” Another pause.

“Selene, listen to me—” The line went dead, and I shoved my phone into my pocket. “Fuck. They’re after the shed. Selene’s tracking them. I’ve gotta get to her.”

Trojan shook his head. “Thor says the container was empty, but there was a shootout. Two of Caputi’s men down. Three Roses. Hollywood took a hit in the shoulder. They’re packing up and clearing out.”

“Tell them about the shed.” I ran my hands through my hair. “I’m heading there now.”

“Shit.” Trojan nodded and looked back down at his phone.

“Go. Take Saint with you,” Bear said, his voice falling into his cool demeanor. He reminded me of his father: commanding, practical, and the voice of reason in the panic going through my head. “Be careful. If you’re not sure, get Selene and get out of there. Losing some guns and cash is nothing compared to two brothers and my cousin. You understand?”

I nodded.

“Got it,” Saint said, then looked at me. “C’mon, KC.”

I whipped my bike around and headed home.

* * *

It took entirely too long to get there. Dread lined my stomach the entire way, and for all the power my bike had, it wasn’t nearly fast enough when my sister’s life was on the line. We didn’t want them to know we were coming, so when we arrived, we parked on an access road that no one except SR knew about.

I cut off my engine and pulled out my gun, stalking through the woods behind the garage, property that belonged to Aris personally and not the business.

Thank fucking fuck Selene and I had turned on “Find My iPhone” for each other years ago, just in case this type of shit happened. If the Caputis had her, they hadn’t done shit to her phone yet because I was still getting a signal a few hundred yards north.

Moving as soundlessly as possible, I rushed through the underbrush, my eyes wide and desperate, looking for the fuckers who did this.

But it had taken us nearly twenty minutes to get here. They could be long fucking gone by now. If Selene had been discovered? Fuck, I didn’t even want to think about what could be happening to her.

Burning hot rage rolled through my gut, and I picked up my pace.

Selene, where the fuck are you?

My hands shook as the panic set in. I didn’t know what I’d do if I lost her. She was my last link to my family, my blood family. We’d come into this world together. She was my first friend, my best friend. I’d burn down the entire fucking world to get my vengeance if they hurt her.

“Where are they, slut?” A shout in the wind came from my right. I turned in that direction, held my gun higher, and took another few steps. The moonlight trickled in through the trees, giving me enough light to step over a body with its head blown off.

One of Caputi’s men.

Which meant Selene had gotten him before they caught her.

“I told you.” She sounded miserable, like they’d already beaten the fuck out of her. “I don’t know, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

I damn near launched myself forward, but a huge hand on my shoulder stopped me. I scowled as Saint held up his index finger, gesturing for me to be quiet. He stepped ahead of me and looked around, giving me three fingers this time.

Three guys.

And Selene.

Fuck, my sister was tough, but this was outrageous. We took another silent step forward. And another. She was on her knees in front of them. Two guys held her arms out to either side and another held her own rifle to her forehead. They all wore suits and shiny shoes, even out here in the fucking sticks, which explained the difference between us better than anything else ever could. I recognized the one with the rifle as Julian Caputi, Benito’s nearest and dearest nephew. His underboss.

The fucking heir apparent came here to do this himself?

Damn, we should feel honored.

Except I was about to blow his motherfucking head off. He should have taken her and left. Instead, I’d make sure he never stepped foot off this property again.

I moved toward them, holding my gun higher.

“That’s all right, bitch,” Julian said. “I don’t mind fucking it right out of your ass. When I’m done with you, Stinky’s gonna have a turn.” He leaned in close. “Wanna guess why we call him Stinky?”

The two other guys laughed, and rage boiled through me. Saint held on to my shoulder, keeping me from doing anything stupid. I squeezed the trigger, itching for a reason to pull it tighter. I aimed at Julian, waiting for the right moment when he wouldn’t be so close to Selene.

The last thing I wanted was for him to squeeze in reflex and kill her anyway.

Selene chuckled darkly, the sound breaking through the blood in her throat. “You’re such a fucking stupid piece of shit. You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”

Julian tilted his head to the side, considering her. I took one last step, bringing me within shooting distance. A twig cracked under my foot and all four heads turned in my direction.

“You hear that?” Julian said.

Selene didn’t wait for any more confirmation. She used the surprise to yank her arms down, grab her rifle, and shove the butt into Julian’s face, breaking his nose so hard that I heard it crack from where I stood. I leapt into action, firing at his head and watching his brains explode out the other side as he dropped to the ground.

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

Gunshots echoed in the night air. Saint took the shithead on the other side of my sister, and I shot the guy closest to me. Before he could collapse, I had Selene in my arms, yanking her away from the fray.

Bright hot fire exploded up my spine and down my legs, and my knees buckled under my weight.

“Fuck.” I curled in on my torso, grabbing at my stomach, and my fingers came away wet and sticky.

What the hell is that smell?

Metal in the air…

Blood.

My blood.

“Shit, Jer.” Selene knelt next to me. She looked terrible. One eye was swollen, black and purple and red everywhere. But her tone is what scared me. “They got you.”

“Fuck.” We were out in the woods in the middle of nowhere, and I’d been fucking shot?

A groan got my attention and I snapped my head up to find Saint writhing on the ground, trying and failing to get up. I nodded to him, gesturing Selene to go while I checked out my own wound.

If I’d been standing two inches to the left, it would have nailed me right in the center of my stomach. As it was, the bullet had grazed my ribs. I’d had burns at the shop worse than this. I pushed myself to my feet, swallowing back the pain, and got to Saint.

“Okay, okay,” Selene said, trying to calm his waving arms. “Let me see it.” She pulled the fabric of his jeans away, muttering to herself about his femoral artery before flipping the limb to the other side. “It came out.”

“Shit,” Saint said. “Is that a good thing?”

“Maybe,” Selene said. “Maybe not.”

I grabbed at my belt, yanking the metal so I could slip it through the loops. I handed it to her and she wrapped it around his upper thigh, twisting it so tight he growled and shouted, “Fucking ow!”

“Listen, you big baby. You’re losing a lot of blood. If we don’t get you some place where I can close this up fast, you’re gonna be fucked.”

“What do we do?” He groaned.

I looked around. I knew where we were in relation to Rose Garage and Alba’s house. The garage would be a quicker walk, but rougher terrain downhill. Alba’s house, on the other hand, would be a few minutes due west, but mostly level ground.

She had medical supplies. Morphine. A warm table and a sterile environment. The garage was a fucking pigsty.

Saint was a big dude. Carrying him would be a fucking challenge, especially because I was also injured. Selene looked like she couldn’t see out of one eye. We were a Goddamned mess.

“Can you walk?” I knelt next to Saint and lifted him with my arms under his back and knees, yanking him to his feet. “I’ve got a plan.” Pain split me in two as I stood, but I pushed through it, knowing if I didn’t, he might die right here in my arms.

He limped along, and Selene held the other side of him. The walk took three hundred fucking years. I’d aged centuries by the time we got there. But I got him there. Somehow. Some fucking way.

I stood in front of Alba’s porch with my brother’s blood dripping down my legs and knocked, praying I didn’t scare the shit out of her.