Kit just smiles, a small, secretive half smile that the scar pulls into something sharper. But he doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he says, “We need to let Viper know you’re here.” He pauses, tilting his head as if considering. “Actually, I have a better idea. Let’s play a little game, shall we? Let’s see how long it takes Viper to figure out you’re gone. Doesn’t that sound like a fun game?”
Before I can answer, not that I have any idea what to say to that, he calls over his shoulder. “Scorpion!”
The man who’d been standing by the far wall straightens. “Yeah, boss?”
“Take our guest to her room and get her settled. She’s had a hard night, after all.”
Scorpion nods and comes forward, gesturing for me to stand. I look back at Kit as I rise, my legs still shaking. He gives me acheerful little wave and then, as Scorpion’s hand closes around my upper arm to guide me away, he starts to laugh.
8
Chapter 8
Roman
The rumble of my bike dies beneath me as I cut the engine in the clubhouse lot. Dawn is just breaking, pale light washing over empty beer bottles and cigarette butts scattered across the asphalt. My body aches with exhaustion; my eyes burn from twenty-four hours without sleep. The ride back to the clubhouse was long enough for doubt to seep into my bones, for all the questions for which I don’t have answers to multiply.
I swing my leg off the bike, wincing at the stiffness in my muscles. The other brothers who rode with me are pulling in behind, their expressions mirroring what I’m feeling: frustration, exhaustion, the strain of another dead end. Hammer nods at me as he dismounts, his face sagging with fatigue.
“I’ll let Atlas know,” I tell him, not bothering to raise my voice above the dying engine sounds. Hammer just nods again.
We’d spent the entire night combing through an old warehouse where the Hell’s Fury used to store their product before we burned most of their operation to the ground. There was nothing there but dust, cobwebs, and rat shit. No sign that Demon or any of his remaining crew had been there in months. Another dead end in a string of them.
I run a hand over my face, the stubble rough against my palm. When was the last time I showered? When was the last time I slept in my own bed, with Kayla curled against me?
Kayla. Guilt twists in my gut like a knife. I was supposed to meet her at that fancy restaurant last night. Another promise broken because of club business. But this is different. This isn’t just some run or a deal gone sideways. This is Demon.
The memories surface unbidden: Naomi a year ago, her voice flat as she told us about her brief fling with the president of the Hell’s Fury MC. She claimed it was just casual, nothing serious on her part. But Demon had other ideas. He wanted to make her his old lady, tried to convince her to betray the Rejects, to give him inside information that would help him take over our territory.
Naomi turned him down, and Demon lost it. Threatened her life, started stalking her. We doubled security around the clubhouse, around Naomi specifically, but it didn’t stop him.
Eight months ago, they took her. She’d grown tired of feeling smothered and had snuck out on a ride, thinking she’d be safe if she stayed close to the clubhouse. They’d grabbed her in broad daylight and killed the prospects she’d brought with her for protection. We tore apart three counties looking for her. I led the attack when we finally discovered the warehouse where they were holding her. It wasn’t until we were inside that we realized they’d leaked her location in order to lure us into an ambush. I still hear the sounds of that fight, bullets whizzing past my head, the sound of my brothers dying. But mostly I rememberDemon’s laughter, his insane laughter as he came at me with a knife.
I touch the scar on my ribs absently, feeling the raised ridge through my shirt. He’d been good with that knife, I’ll give him that. Would have gutted me if Naomi hadn’t grabbed a gun from one of the downed bikers and shot him.
The bullet caught him in the side of the head, tearing a path along his temple and cheek. He’d fallen like a stone. I’d been about to put another bullet into his head to be sure he was dead when one of his men appeared. The last thing I remembered was his large, meaty fist crashing into my jaw.
When I came to, Naomi was leaning over me. Pale and shaken, but alive and uninjured. She said that the giant of a man had thrown Demon over his shoulder and disappeared into the darkness. The rest of Demon’s men had scattered. I thought that was the end of it.
We all did.
We burned the Hell’s Fury clubhouse to the ground that night. The club was finished, or so we thought. But then a few months ago, we started getting intel. Whispers from contacts, sightings from other clubs. Demon was alive, and he was still after Naomi.
And last night, the bastard finally made his move. Or at least one of his men did. Tried to grab Naomi when she left the clubhouse to get some air. He bolted when she fought back, too quick for her to get a good look, but two of our brothers gave chase on their bikes. They lost him, but he’d been heading toward that old Hell’s Fury property, where they’d done most of their business when they were still around.
And that’s how we ended up wasting an entire night searching an empty warehouse while that psychopath is still out there somewhere, planning God knows what.
I roll my shoulders, trying to work out some of the tension. It doesn’t help. Nothing will except finding Demon and putting him down for good this time.
I push open the clubhouse door. A few prospects are cleaning up from the night before, sweeping floors and collecting bottles. They nod respectfully as I pass.
“They in the office?” I ask, not slowing my stride.
“Yes, sir,” one of the prospects answers immediately. “Been waiting for you.”
I head down the hallway toward the back office, each step feeling like I’m wading through quicksand. The exhaustion is really hitting me now, but there’s no time to rest. Pausing outside the office door, I take a moment to steel myself. Atlas won’t be happy with my report. Naomi, even less so.
With a deep breath, I push open the door.