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“I’m sorry.”
“Bailey, about what I said downstairs.”
“You don’t have to explain. It was the heat of the moment.”
“Thank you,” I muttered, rubbing my face, instantly regretting my reply. It felt wrong. “Look, I need to head back downstairs for a bit. Can you give me an hour and then I’ll take you back to town?”
“It’s alright. I can find my own way home. Besides, I need to get back. You do whatever it is you need to do. I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t want you going alone.”
“I won’t. I’ll get Scribe to take me.”
Nodding, I got to my feet and headed for the door. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I knew if I did, I wouldn’t leave. Whatever this was between us needed to end. I refused to go there. No matter how much I wanted to claim her.
She wasn’t mine, and I would never be hers.
Walking out the back door to the clubhouse, I headed past the obstacle course and made a mental note to spend some time out there. Nothing a little gun therapy couldn’t fix. Anything to get my mind off the angel in my bed.
Like most motorcycle clubs, the Sons of Hell had their own wet room. Only ours was called the tank. An old gas chamber used to condition men and women in case of a biological attack, I acquired our tank from an auction several years ago at the Fort Eustis’ military post. Buried underground, I trudged down the stairs and into the tank to find the two imposter fucks hanging on the meat hooks from the ceiling as Frank and Priest worked them over. Leaning against the wall, I watched as my brothers had their way with them. I really didn’t care what happened to the lying fucks, as long as they told me what I wanted to know.
The kid was the first one to talk. “Stop! I’ll tell you what you want to know. Just stop hitting me.”
“Who is Czar?” Priest asked.
“The President of the Sons of Hell motorcycle club.”
“Wrong asshole,” Priest said, before hitting the kid in the stomach again. “Who is Czar?”
“I’m telling you the truth. He’s the President.”
“He’s telling you the truth,” the other man said, before coughing up blood. “We’re from the California chapter of the Sons of Hell. Our President is Czar.”
“Does this Czar have a real name?” Frank asked.
Both men shook their heads.
“What does Czar want with Venom?” Frank prodded.
The kid moaned. “She has something he wants.”
“What?” Priest asked.
The kid sniffed, tears running down his face. “I don’t know.”
“Czar wants her as bait,” the older man admitted.
Pushing off the wall, I growled. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Czar. He wants Venom. Bitch is worth a lot of money. Czar wants her as payback for something that happened a long time ago. I don’t know what that old man did to piss Czar off, but he wants revenge. He’s been going on and on about getting payback against the true sons of hell. None of us knew what he’s talking about. We just do what we’re told.”
Priest and Frank looked at me.
It made no sense.
“Did Dog make a deal with Czar?”
The kid shook his head. “Fuck no. That old man told Czar to his face that if he ever stepped one foot in his shop again, he would put a bullet between his eyes.”
