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It’s taking everything I have to keep my mouth shut.
“Hey, Ethan? Did your mom ever tell you about where she came from?” I open my mouth, ready to answer, when JJ angrily whispers, “Don’t say a fucking word.”
“No? I’ll tell you. She grew up in a club much better than this pussy club you’ve come to know. Her daddy, your granddaddy, was a man you could follow, and he took no prisoners. There was a brother who wanted nothing but to fuck your mom, and had to be watched all hours of the day when she was around. He ended up killing a whore, and that’s who your mom went to prison for. To me, she was safer behind bars than she was around him. Of course, your daddy came to her rescue, killing him in the end.
“I can still remember the smell of her burning flesh as your granddaddy took a torch to her hands. I couldn’t get the smell out of my nose for weeks. She passed out after a while, but her screams… ah, I can still hear them today. Music to my fucking ears.”
I can’t take much more of this shit.
“You should thank me. At least I knocked your girl out before I fucked up her hands. Couldn’t have people hearing her screams at the motel.”
Swallowing the bile rising up my throat, I bang the back of my head against the pillar, trying to tune him out by imaging how I would kill him if I had the chance.
Holding his phone up, Zach sweeps it across the main floor beneath us. If I’m right, he’s taking a video. Putting the phone close to his mouth, he whispers something into the speaker. The rest of the Lost Souls will come, guns blazing, that’s for sure. But even with a deal being struck between the club and my parents, it’s hard to believe this won’t be the day I die.
Chapter Nineteen
Cas
Brothers are on their bikes, ready to ride, when a text comes through from Zachery. A ten second video pops up, showing me the old mill with Bert sitting in the middle of it, surrounded by his men.
“They’re all inside. Come quietly, and come through the back door,” Zach whispers.
Good work, Zach. Putting two fingers to my lips, I pierce the air with an ear-splitting whistle to get everyone’s attention.
“There are sixteen men with Bert in the Mill, all hovering around on the first floor, our boys on the second. Zach said to come quietly, so we’re going to ride to the fork in the road and walk the last half mile so we’re not heard. When we get there, you’ll all surround the place while Sparky, Slade, Ricky, and I go in through the back door.”
With nods of agreement, I bring my bike to life.
“What do you want us to do?” Aaron asks over the roar of my bike.
“You’ll wait with my men.”
I roll my bike toward the gate as he and Grace head for their car, and signal for my brothers to ride. They can catch up and drive behind us. He said there wasn’t a fed looking into us, but regardless of what he says, there is a fed in town who’s hopefully still alive. At least when he gives his reports to his superiors, he can tell them it wasn’t a Lost Soul who put hands on him.
Half a mile out from the Mill, I slow to a stop, and everyone follows suit. Once the last engine has been cut, the silence echoes. The calm before the storm. Or, in our case, the calm before a fight.
Pope comes up beside me, taking his gun from his holster, and tips his head, waiting on my orders.
“Take the lead on who’s surrounding the place. You hear a gunshot, you come in shooting. You hear me whistle, hold fire until you have eyes on me, yeah?”
“You got it. Be careful, and bring our boys out.”
“I will, brother.”
Sparky, Slade, and Ricky are waiting when I reach them, and together, we head for the back entrance into the mill. I could care less where Aaron and Grace are, but I know Pope is itching to shoot them, and will if they put a foot wrong and blow our chances of getting our sons out of there alive.
That’s what having a brother at your back means. You trust them fully, and after so long, they can act without having to be ordered because they know what you would want them to do.
“Zach said they were all good, but it took us twenty-three minutes to ride out here. Anything could’ve happened in that time,” Slade mutters.
“Nah, I don’t think so. This guy wants his son’s killer, and he’s different from everyone else we’ve fought. He hasn’t come for us, just Cas. Not that he knows it was you for sure,” Sparky notes.
“Our boys are smarter than we give them credit for. Maybe it’s about time we actually think of them as men,” Ricky says, his eyes focused on the mill in the distance.
“Boys or men, they’re still little fuckers,” Sparky snorts through a laugh.
I chuckle at his description. “They come from us, don’t they?”
