Chapter Sixteen
The clouds wereblackened shadows that shifted with the wind, and Chains rode fast under a sky devoid of the moon and stars. The rage inside him was like fire lacing through his veins and creeping up his spine. He needed to ram his fist into Bret’s face and make himfeelwhathe’ddone to Autumn.
Chains revved the engine at the red light, flipping off an angry driver who shook his fist at him. If the guy had said just one word, Chains would’ve lost it and most likely smashed in the windows of the jerk’s car and then beat the crap out of him. Every one of his nerves snapped and crackled under the fury that threatened to explode.
After Chains had seen Autumn’s battered face, it took all the strength he had not to run after his brother and beat him to a pulp. But Autumn had needed him, so he pushed down the anger, but it never left him—it just simmered under the surface, and now it was ready to boil over.
When Autumn had been in the bathroom the night before, Chains had called Eagle and asked him to scope out Bret’s apartment to find out whether the pussy was there. He wasn’t, but that didn’t surprise Chains: Bret knew he’d come for him. Ever since they were kids, they’d competed with each other, egged on by their dad. Chains was always the victor when it came to women and kicking his brother’s ass. But what Bret had done to Autumn was inexcusable, and Chains would make sure he paid for it.
The bike rounded the corner and then veered left on a dark street. He knew one of Bret’s best friends, Matt, lived in a townhouse at the intersection of Sparrow Way and Concord, so he pulled over a block away and continued on foot.
The night was silent except for the rhythm of biker boots on asphalt, and the street was deserted, which surprised him since it was only six o’clock in the evening. As he walked on, Chains tried to rein in the fury swirling around inside him. If he didn’t get a handle on it, there was a very good chance he might kill his brother. Pausing for several moments, he jammed his hands inside his leather jacket and took several deep breaths, exhaling slowly. Scorpio had taught him that technique. He had once told him he’d used it during his tours in Afghanistan when he’d been in the Marines, and then later when he’d been incarcerated. Scorpio swore by it, so now Chains implemented the method in hopes of calming the fuck down and avoiding a stint in prison.
One time, a few years back, Bret had called Chains to pick him up at Matt’s house because he’d crashed his sports car when he was drunker than hell. Bret didn’t want their parents to know, so Chains had helped him out. Now he was returning to this house for a second time, but it wasn’t to help his brother out, it was to kick his ass.
He glanced around the area but didn’t see his brother’s car; however, knowing what a coward he was, Chains figured the car might be in the garage or that Bret had his friend pick him up. He went around to the back of the house and heard voices. Light spilled out onto a patch of grass, the scent of smoky hickory swirled in the air, and the filtered clang of metal against metal rang through the quietness.
Chains flattened himself against the stucco wall and peeked around its corner. He saw Matt in shorts and flip flops, standing by a large grill and drinking a beer. Pressed to his side was a skinny blonde in tight jeans and a T-shirt. The chick was sipping something in a tall glass. There was no sign of Bret.
“Do you want another drink?” Matt asked.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” the blonde answered, then a string of giggles filled the small patio.
“Maybe.” Matt bent down and kissed her, then opened the sliding glass door and escorted her to the couch.
Anger and frustration gnawed at his gut like a hungry rat, and Chains stood for a long time in hopes he’d see Bret inside the house, but his brother never materialized.Fuck!
The creak of the door sliding open had Chains back against the cold stucco wall.
“The steaks are almost ready, babe,” Matt said.
Chains came out of the shadows and approached the unsuspecting man—like a lion does its prey.
“Is Bret here?” he asked in a low voice.
Matt’s sharp yelp added to the din of aluminum utensils dropping on the concrete floor with a shrillping. He glanced at the slightly ajar door and took a step toward it.
“I don’t wanna hurt you, dude. Stay the fuck where you are and answer my question.”
“Hey, Chet.” A nervous laugh burst through his lips. “You startled me. How’ve you been?” Matt bent down to pick up the spatula, tongs, and large fork, his hands trembling.
Chains narrowed his eyes into slits. “This isn’t a fuckin’ social call. I’m looking for Bret.”
“I don’t know where he’s at. I haven’t seen him since he went away on business.”
He stalked over to him and grabbed Matt by the front of his shirt. The utensils crashed to the floor again. “Don’t fuckin’ bullshit me.”
Eyes wide with fear, Matt shook his head vigorously. “I’m not—I swear. If he’s not at his place, then I don’t know where he is. I’ve been kind of busy with this chick”—he glanced at the blonde on the couch—“that I started going out with a couple of weeks ago, and Bret’s been out of town a lot. I swear, dude—I’m not lying to you. I wouldn’t do that.” His gaze rested on Chains’s one-percenter patch. “I’d be crazy to do that, right?”
“Yeah—real stupid. I don’t like citizens lying to me.” He threw Matt against a small table piled with foil, plastic wrap, and spice bottles.
“I’m not. Maybe he’s at his girlfriend’s house.”
At the mention ofgirlfriend,Chains nearly punched Matt in the stomach, but reminded himself that he didn’t have any grudge with the guy.
“What’s her name?”
“Teresa. He used to go out with her before he met Autumn. I guess they broke off their engagement.”