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If pain had a taste, I’d be feasting on Bert’s right now. “While rigor set in, my brothers and I partied above him. We got so drunk, he wasn’t even a memory. He was a nobody, and no one has thought about him since that day. He lived for nothing.”
Launching out of his chair, Bert backhands me so hard, my teeth shake with the force.
Gripping onto my cut, the leather squeaks as he twists it in his hands. Spit lands on my cheek from his heavy breathing, but I keep eye contact with him.
“What are you going to do, old man? One good punch will shatter your hands. You’re so frail, it’s embarrassing.”
Goading him ignites his anger, and I brace myself for the beating equal to the one his son received all those years ago. But when the door opens, and one of his men slips inside, inclining his head for Bert’s attention, it doesn’t come.
It takes a moment, but he releases my cut and shoves into my chest before joining his guy.
“One of the runners spotted five Lost Souls riding out to an old warehouse on the edge of town with the girl and the fed’s son.”
Bert turns to me. “What are they doing out there?”
I lift my shoulders as much as my restraints will allow. He must be out of his mind if he thinks I’ll give up information on the club’s movements. Not that I know what they’re doing, but my guess is, Cas is getting the rat and the girl away from the clubhouse because he’s expecting unwelcome company.
Dropping his ass down at the bottom of the bed, Bert tells his man, “You know what to do.” When his guy steps in front of me, I give him a brightfuck yousmile before it’s wiped off my face with a heavy blow to my head.
The punches continue to my face, stomach, and ribs, and I struggle to breathe. My abdomen is on fire, but I fight the urge to pass out.
“I will get to the bottom of this,” Bert warns me, then turns his attention to his man. “Leave him. We’ll go see for ourselves what they’re doing. Fill the bag with enough weapons to take them all down.”
I can’t see past the blood hampering my vision, and I can barely hold my head up to see when they leave. I try again to loosen the restraints, but I’m not even sure if I’m actually moving. The thing with beatings is that they don’t hurt your mind. In my head, I’m freeing myself, running out the door and heading for Cas to warn him about the old mill, but I’m not. I settle for imagining Libby, knowing she’ll be pissed with me for missing our anniversary dinner last night, but fuck, if she still isn’t the hottest thing I’ve seen when she’s angry. She’s come so far from being the ice-cold woman I first met in a rickety old shed. Now, we don’t even think about those days. We live our lives secluded from society, with me venturing out when the club needs me, and her only visiting town when we need supplies. Most couples can’t last like that, spending so much time together, but for us, it makes us stronger. Every minute spent with her is a minute I’ll never regret. Falling asleep beside her every night, waking up to her every morning, knowing we’re not pressured by society to conform to a certain way of life, is freeing. It’s rare when she comes to the club, but she doesn’t love me any less for it.
My lip throbs, and I’m not sure if it’s dribble or blood dripping from my mouth and down my chin. I think back on the day when Cas was doing everything he could to bring Oak and Sparky home, and I have every faith he’ll find me—I just have to hang on long enough. I’ll gladly take Lib’s anger, and then kiss the shit out of her.
Nearly twenty years we’ve been together, and it’s not been long enough for me. Even fifty years together won’t be. She’s the one for me, and that’ll never change.
A car alarm pierces the air, but it sounds wrong. It’s too loud, ringing sharply between my ears. Lifting my head, I take in my surroundings, finding nothing is out of place. Then it hits me that it’s the fire alarm.
Outside, I distinguish two vans speeding off, and then the door is opening. I think I must be dying, because my old lady slips through the door, pausing at the sight of seeing the mess I’m in.
“Oh, fuck. Dude, you alive?”
It’s not Libby. Kneeling in front of me, I can see it’s the motel manager.
“What the fuck?” he hisses, and I know this is it; this is my way out.
“On the bed. Get the knife and cut me loose,” I mumble.
He twists around, and every second he’s here and I’m not free, is a breath I can barely take. My body falls forward when he cuts through my wrist restraints, and then he’s hauling me up. I use him to steady myself until I can stand on my own, though it’s taking everything I have to do so.
He sticks close, and when we get to the door, I catch him taking in the damage to my face.
“Tell no one I was here, you hear me?”
“I hear ya, man.”
Stepping outside, the breeze assaults my cuts, but I sigh when I see not one van is parked out front. I do see my old lady parked up across the street, though. Holding my side—which doesn’t do anything to alleviate the pain—I limp across the road where she leans across and throws open the passenger door. I crash onto the seat, barely managing to close it as she peels away from the curb.
“First, I’m not going to rip you a new ass until we’re at the club. Secondly, you being alive saves me from taking you out myself. And thirdly, you can thank me later.”
There’s no time for kisses or soft words, not even an apology. She peels away from the curb, and we pass the fire trucks on our way out of town.
“You set the fire?”
“You said you’d be home in time for dinner last night.”
