Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

T he double doors of Church slammed against the walls as Cage burst through. He knew the officers would be having a meeting. They would not allow two of their own being attacked on their own turf to go unavenged.

Steel did not look surprised by Cage's interruption. He did, however, look annoyed at Cage's treatment of his doors. "The doors did not harm your girls, Cage. They don't deserve your ire."

For some reason, hearing Steel refer to Angel and Bree as ‘his girls' was fulfilling. It was an acknowledgement of his claim, even though Angel was a patched member just as much as he was. The two were already claimed by the club, but now? They were claimed by him too. It gave him a sense of satisfaction, like he was an extra layer of protection for them.

Cage pushed those feelings aside. "What the fuck happened?"

Steel pointed to the doors behind him. Cage closed them and then took the closest seat to him next to Bear. It was only then that Cage realized it was more than just the officers in the room. Keys and Carlos were sitting across from him next to Ghost. Keys had his laptop with extended monitors spread out before him.

"First, how's Angel and Bree?" Steel inquired.

"Exhausted," Cage answered shortly. "What the fuck happened?"

"Two Pythons and a prospect entered the tattoo shop. There was a scheduled appointment at seven for a consult according to the schedule Keys found on Angel's computer." Bulldog ran a hand down his long beard. "Angel was tased and taken down. Bree kept her wits about her and was able to hide her phone from them. They strung Angel up against the wall and planned to rape her as a message to Steel."

"Why her?" Cage interrupted. "Her shop is on Main Street. They could have easily been seen."

"According to Angel, the one kept going on about her being a woman in the MC," Steel said. There was a hardness in his voice that promised vengeance. "I believe he believed Angel was our weak link."

Cage was prouder than he could have imagined that Angel had proved him wrong. "How did they escape?"

"Bree sent out an SOS message." Bear pulled his phone out and showed the message to Cage. It didn't pass his notice that the message above it mentioned the words ‘Cage's party' and was sent from Angel herself. He ignored that message, though, and handed Bear's phone back to him.

"You said Bree shot one of them?" Cage looked up at Steel.

Steel nodded once. "He dropped his gun when she threw jars of supplies at him. Threw herself out of her wheelchair to get it."

Cage ducked his head down, gripping the back of his neck. "Jesus Christ." Guilt swarmed him for having not been there. Bree was strong, and getting stronger by the day, but she still was only a year out from nearly dying.

"It's not your fault," he heard Lucky say from across the table.

No one would be able to convince him of that. He'd been here, safe, in the fucking clubhouse wallowing away after Angel turned him down again while they'd been assaulted and nearly raped…

Fuck.

Cage got up, unable to remain seated. He started pacing behind the chairs. He felt like he had an army of ants crawling all over him.

"What happened to the Pythons? Where are they?"

"We have the prospect. His fate is up to Angel." Steel's words sounded like a warning, probably believing that Cage would want the prospect himself. He wasn't wrong. The location of where the prospect was when unspoken. Given Carlos's presence in the room, Steel would not mention the cellar. "The Pythons are dead."

Cage flinched. As much as he was pleased by that news, he did not want the Python's death on Bree's conscience. "Bree can never know. As far as she's concerned, the man survived and is in jail."

Steel studied Cage for a long moment before saying, "That's Angel's call to make. We'll honor it if she agrees with you."

Anger rolled over Cage. He knew he didn't have the right to make that parental decision—but, damn, he wanted to. The image of Angel, pregnant and smiling, flashed before his eyes like a prophetic vision. Fuck, he wanted to see that in real life.

Cage was the youngest of twelve brothers and sisters, all with the same parents. Hell, he had nieces and nephews who were older than he was. He'd grown up with no privacy and then he'd joined the Navy, where he got even less privacy. Since receiving his discharge papers four years ago, Cage had believed that he would remain single and childless for the rest of his life. A way to guarantee his privacy. One-night stands and the occasional weekend fuck-a-thons were all he needed in his life.

Bree had changed all of that. The desire to be more than just her fun-loving uncle had sparked something in him. The fact that it had been Angel who took Bree in cemented that feeling all the more.

"What about the other one?"

"Angel took him down," Bulldog answered. "She crushed his throat with her legs while still tied to the light fixture."

Fuck. Cage should not be so proud of that fact. "What's our plan for going after the Pythons?"

"There isn't one."

Cage whirled around at Steel. "Why the fuck not? Scar is back. Send him if you won't send us! Fuck it, I'm going?—"

Steel raised a single eyebrow and ordered, "Stop. You're not going anywhere, and Scar isn't some cannon to be set loose on our enemies. We need intel , Cage, before we can make a decision. I won't go off half-cocked. I warned King he wasn't prepared for a war with us, and I stand by that."

In the past, Cage had always admired Steel's calm demeanor. It took a lot to knock the twenty-year Marine veteran off of his game. Last May, Cage had sided with Steel against going storming the Heaven Haven Community where Bulldog's Abby had been held against her will for sixteen years. Bulldog had wanted the community destroyed, but Steel had encouraged caution. He'd wanted information first.

As a military man, Cage understood. Wars were not won by running off, as Steel had put it, half-cocked and unprepared. That was how good men died. He got it—but never before had it infuriated him to the point where Cage seriously debated on going against a superior's orders.

Mutiny was not a word that he took lightly.

Cage's eyes landed on Bulldog. He understood the other man's fury in a way he hadn't before. He understood why Scar had sacrificed himself and his place in the MC to prevent Bulldog from doing it.

Bulldog's eyes lifted to meet Cage's, and something passed between them. An understanding coupled with sympathy. Bulldog knew exactly how Cage felt just then.

"We need to worry more about protecting Mount Grove than we do destroying the Pythons." Carlos brought everyone's attention to him. "Today, they drove a car, which has been impounded, and did not wear their cuts. We need a way to safeguard the town."

"Maybe we can build a dome around it like that TV show," Bear suggested.

Ghost rolled his eyes. " Under the Dome and only the first two seasons were worth watching."

"And completely unrealistic," Carlos added.

"I'm working on security for each club building. I'm going to outfit them all with a panic button." Keys continued to type on his keyboard as he spoke and did not look up at any of them. "I also am going to put a tracker on each ol' lady and club kid. Something simple but disguised. Like a piece of jewelry. I'm working on building an SOS app too, but it's not ready yet. Hopefully by the morning."

"You need to eat and sleep too," Steel reminded Keys.

Keys just shrugged.

"We're also opening the two trailers to club family," Bulldog told the group. "We have spare rooms in the clubhouse as well as in some of our own homes. I'm going to encourage any family who lives in Mount Grove to come stay on club property until we sort out the Python threat." Bulldog looked pointedly at his brother.

Carlos rolled his eyes. "Mom and Zoe are packing what we'll need. They'll be here within the hour."

"Same goes with your police force families," Steel told Carlos. "If they don't feel safe in their own homes, bring them here. We'll figure out the space and food later."

Carlos nodded his appreciation. Then the new sheriff turned to his brother. "I do have one question, though: since when is Scar back?"

When Bree and Angel first moved into their new house nearly a year ago, Bree had been so excited to have her own room. She'd painted and furnished it just how she wanted. Even with how excited she was to finally have a space and a room to call her own, there had been some nights when she'd seek Angel out. Those nights had become less and less frequent as the months had moved on, as she'd healed and gotten stronger.

Angel was not surprised in the least when Bree came rolling into her bedroom. She threw the covers down to make room for Bree and waited patiently for Bree to transfer herself out of her chair and onto the mattress. This was one of the reasons Angel had not bought a high bed.

After Bree got herself situated, Angel threw the covers over her. Bree rolled to her side so she was facing Angel.

Angel reached out and touched her face. "How are you doing, baby?"

"I'm worried."

"What about?" Angel knew better than to give deceptive assurances by saying something cliché like "I'd never allow anyone to harm you." The events of their day had already proven that statement false.

"You killed that man and I…" Her young voice trailed off. "Are we going to jail?"

Angel shook her head. "No, baby. It was self-defense. And last I heard, the man you shot was on his way to the hospital."

"What if he dies?" She looked so small, nothing like the vibrant, vivacious teen Angel had seen her become over the past year.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Bree. He might die. If he does, then know you did the right thing. You saved not only me but also yourself. There is nothing to be ashamed about. It was his actions that led to his death, not yours."

Bree nodded, though Angel wondered if she truly understood. "I just… I never wanted to have to do that."

"Me either," Angel told her honestly. "I've killed before, Bree. It takes something from you. I hope for your sake that he does survive. He'll go to jail for what he did."

"But he'd get out."

Not knowing what else to say, Angel went with the truth. "Yes. He could. Technically, their actions fall under an attempted crime. I'm not a lawyer, but I'm pretty sure that changes how long he would be sentenced."

Bree made a disgusted face. "It shouldn't."

"No system is perfect." She reached over and ran her hand through Bree's hair.

"Well, I can think of one good thing that came out of today."

Angel raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"You and Cage finally stopped dancing around each other and are going out on that date."

Angel snorted but had to admit that her daughter did have a point. "Get some sleep, baby. I'm here and you're safe."

The smell of coffee roused her. Angel cracked one eye open to see Cage trying to sneak-walk to her nightstand. He carefully placed a mug of coffee down. He turned, probably with the intention of slipping back out of her bedroom, when he saw her watching him and froze.

"Oops," he mouthed.

Angel grinned up at him. She'd allow for a little B-and-E if it meant she got her coffee delivered to her bed. She opened her mouth to thank him, but he put a finger to his lips. Then pointed behind her.

Angel twisted, wincing slightly as her sore body protested, and saw a sleeping Bree still in bed beside her. Looking back at Cage, she pointed at her bedroom door.

He nodded and left.

Angel got up and used the bathroom as quietly as she could. She was still wearing only a pair of panties and Cage's shirt, but she didn't want to risk waking Bree. Angel grabbed her coffee and slipped out of her room.

Cage was leaning against the wall outside of her bedroom. "I see I missed the slumber party," he said with a sexy as hell grin. He leaned down and kissed her.

Angel, though, did not find it amusing. "She hasn't gotten into my bed like that in a long time. I need to call her therapist and fill her in."

"I already did that. Bree's got an appointment scheduled at one today. Juliana," Bree's therapist, "said she would see her during her lunch hour. She also hopes you're doing well."

Angel's throat felt tight at Cage's words and she had trouble swallowing the coffee in her mouth. Cage had called Bree's therapist? Cage had scheduled an appointment? Angel wasn't sure how she felt about that. She appreciated the help. Hell, she was the one who'd said she'd call Juliana last night and then forgot. But… Her eyes glanced to the closed door beside her that hid her sleeping daughter from her view. But she was Bree's mom. It was her responsibility.

"I'm not taking anything away from you," Cage told her softly. "I just wanted to help."

"Thank you," Angel said automatically. She took another sip of coffee. "I should have called last night. How does Juliana even know who you are?"

Cage's grin was wicked. "Apparently young Bree talks about me often."

Angel winced. If Bree told Juliana about Cage, then it must be about her crush on him. Was she truly okay with them going out on a date? Maybe she should cancel.

As if sensing where Angel's thoughts were going, Cage reminded her, "Bree gave us her blessing. She's old enough to express her feelings if she truly did not want us together."

"She told me that the one good thing about yesterday was that we both stopped dancing around each other and are finally going out on a date."

"See?" He smiled. "She approves." He leaned down and took her lips. "Go get dressed. Steel called for Church. I was going to tell him that you're sleeping, which I still can if you don't want to go."

Angel shook her head. "I need to get back to the land of the living."

Cage looked confused at her wording but didn't question it. "I'll call one of the ol' ladies over to stay with Bree."

Once again, Angel felt like her parental reins were slipping from her hands. That was her job. But she shook the feeling off. It was just a phone call. Saved her from having to do that and get herself ready.

Angel nodded her thanks and ducked back into her bedroom.

Cage sent a message out to the ol' ladies to see who was available to come stay with Bree. Abby was the one who replied and asked for about twenty minutes to get Caleb and Georgie situated. He told her he'd be over to help wrangle the two infants.

Bulldog's house was a lot bigger than Angel's—and a hell of a lot more chaotic too. When he'd claimed Abby, he'd also laid claim to four children that weren't biologically his in any way. It was interesting, Cage pondered, how most of the club kids were claimed children and not biologically linked to a member. He liked it, though, and approved. Every kid deserved to have a safe and happy home.

Abby was gathering a heavy backpack that looked like she was preparing a six-month journey down the Appalachian Trail, not to walk to her neighbor's house for a few hours.

"Angel has her own kitchen sink, Abs," Cage pointed out.

"Har-har." She hefted the bag onto her back. Cage was impressed she didn't topple over. "Grab Caleb, will you?"

Cage glanced into the living room where he saw more toys than he and his eleven brothers and sisters had ever owned. By the time Cage had come around, everything was hand-me-downs and used or broken toys. In the middle of the toy hoard was Caleb, who was mumbling baby words to himself as he built a block tower.

He looked back at Abby. "I can take the bag?—"

She shook her head. "I got it. Let's go." She leaned over and picked up her six-month-old daughter, Georgie, from the high-chair.

"Yes, ma'am." Cage walked into the living room and scooped Caleb up.

"Unk K!" Caleb exclaimed. "Tow! Tow!"

Cage was able to translate the baby speak to "Uncle Cage! Throw! Throw!" and did as he was ordered. He tossed the toddler into the air and caught him with ease. Caleb laughed and spluttered and giggled.

Then Caleb waved his arms up and down, commanding, "Gen! Gen!", which Cage knew meant, "Again! Again!"

Abby was waiting at the front door with Georgie. She'd come a long way in the six months since she'd escaped the cult her family had held her hostage in. When Cage had first met her, she was extremely malnourished and extremely pregnant. Still, even with as strong as she was or felt she had to prove, Cage was too much of a gentleman to allow her to carry that heavy pack, even if it was to the next house down.

He situated Caleb onto his hip and reached over to the top loop of the bag. He lifted it one-handed and actually saw her shoulders sag in relief. He raised a single eyebrow.

Abby rolled her eyes and relented. "Thank you."

"You should have never put it on in the first place. Bulldog would have murdered me if he saw you with this thing."

"For the sake of your life, and my back, I'll let you carry it."

Cage chuckled, put the bag over his left shoulder, and opened the door for her.

"How's Angel doing?"

"She's upset but she's strong," he answered, not wanting to break Angel's confidence. Her breakdown in the bath the night before was between the two of them.

"I know the feeling."

Of all of the ol' ladies, Abby was the only one to whom that statement was literal and not a figure of speech. Cage glanced down at the toddler in his arms who was the product of such violence. The child was innocent, but Cage had to wonder if Bulldog resented him at all. Maybe not the child himself, but what he represented? He couldn't imagine the turmoil Bulldog and Abby had gone through to get where they were now.

"It's hard," Abby continued. "Rape is a violation, but it also steals from you. I can only imagine the fear Angel went through, especially with the—" Suddenly, Abby stopped talking. The guilt on her face confused Cage immensely.

Cage stopped walking. There was something there, something significant about Angel that Abby knew and Cage didn't. "With the what?"

Abby just shook her head and shrugged. She kept on walking without looking back. "With Bree there. That's all. That's what I meant."

No , Cage thought. It wasn't.

Cage was looking at Angel funny, and she had no idea why. He kept staring at her, like she had a crossword tattoo on her forehead and he was trying to solve the puzzle.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Angel asked as they walked into the clubhouse together.

"You're keeping something from me."

Angel stopped walking. She tried to look confused. "I am?"

Cage pointed a finger at her. "See, that? That's how I know it's true. If you weren't keeping something from me, you'd have been angry I accused you of something rather than pretending you didn't know what I was talking about."

Angel's eyes narrowed. "You don't know me that well."

"I know you very well, sweetness. You're keeping something from me." He gripped her hips and brought her flush up against his chest. "No need to tell me, though. I'll figure it out."

Now Angel rolled her eyes. "I thought Jasmine and Sophia were the only ones who liked to play detective."

Cage's grin was sinful. Angel felt her nipples pucker as warmth spread between her legs. "I can get a sexy detective's costume and would be happy to do some snooping." He brushed his lips against hers.

"Stop that you two!"

Angel and Cage broke apart to find Lucky standing by the bar with baby Conner strapped to his chest and Scotty. Lucky had his hand over Scotty's eyes, which Scotty found so amusing he was uncontrollably giggling. He wasn't fighting against being blinded all that hard, loving the game of having his dad's hand over his face.

Cage took Angel's hand. "Sorry about that, man." Though he didn't sound sorry at all.

Angel walked with him towards the stairs that led up to Church. She saw two of the Honeys with brooms and cleaning supplies chatting in the doorway that led to the clubhouse apartments but didn't think anything of it.

Most of the club members were already in the room, either seated or standing around. A few of them came up to Angel and offered her a hug. Many inquired about Bree. Cage hung back and allowed Angel to answer their questions but kept close.

Banging on the table drew everyone's attention. Steel put down the gavel. "Take your seats. We've got a lot to talk about before we have to get to our day jobs."

Angel aimed for her usual seat, but Cage grabbed her hand. He brought her around to the other side of the table. He sat her where he usually sat and then went towards the back of the room where a table of coffee and pastries was set up. Angel wasn't the only one watching him as he prepared two cups of coffee and a plate with two pastries. He brought everything over to the conference table. He put one mug in front of her, the plate between them, and the second mug in front of himself. Then he took the seat next to her.

Angel didn't know whether to scowl at him or thank him. She landed on scowling. "I can get my own damn cup of coffee." She didn't mind the bed service…but that was different. Private.

"Shut up and drink it," Cage countered. He looked down the table at Steel. "Where are we at with the Pythons?"

Angel put her left hand up to stop Steel from answering. She turned to Cage on her right. "Nothing has changed here, Cage. Yes, I agreed to go on a date with you, but that doesn't change us here . I am still one of you and I can get my own coffee and breakfast."

Rather than annoyed, Cage's expression turned amused. "And where do you think your coffee and pastries come from in these meetings, sweetness? Have you not noticed that for the past year, I've been the one to get them for you? Today was just the first time I stopped being subtle about it."

Angel's jaw opened. She had no idea what to say to that. She tried to think back to specifics—and realized that one of her brothers usually passed her a cup of coffee at the start of Church. Like an assembly line. She'd never questioned where it came from.

"I… But…" She looked down at her coffee. Cage just sat there with a smug look on his stupidly beautiful face. "I… The…" Realizing the others were looking at them, Angel's cheeks flushed. She turned to face down at the table at Steel. "Where are we at with the Pythons?"

Steel took pity on her and started the meeting. Keys took over and had a lot to report regarding the Pythons' financials.

"Take it all," Steel ordered him. "Empty them out. Let's see how loyal his members are to him when they can't get paid."

Keys nodded. "I'll have it all within the hour." He looked across the table at Angel. "I'll be to the tattoo shop around noon. I have a new security system for you as well as a panic button."

"That's fine." She appreciated the extra security. Not for her, but for Bree and her employees. "Bree has an appointment at one with her therapist."

"That's good." To the group as a whole, Keys said, "Last night, I spoke with the officers about putting tracking devices on the ol' ladies and the club kids. However, just as a precaution while we're dealing with the Pythons, Steel is recommending we wear them too."

"Oh!" Pumpkin flipped his non-existent long hair. "Got a nice pair of earrings for me to wear like they have in the movies?"

"No, jackass." Keys threw something across the table at him. Pumpkin caught it and held it up. "Dog tags. We're all used to wearing them. Hell, some of us still wear them. No one will suspect they're not our original tags."

"Why not just put something into the stitching of our cuts?" Ghost asked.

"Because a Python is more likely to take or ruin our cuts," Angel piped in. "They were pissed I had one. Tried to grab for Bree's too. They're a symbol just like our military uniforms were. There are a lot of POWs out there that reported the first thing taken from them were their uniforms."

Keys nodded to her. "What she said."

Cage cleared his throat, "Taking their money is great, but that won't destroy them."

"Slow and steady wins the race," Steel cautioned. "Let's see how they react to having no money. I'm sure their business partners won't be too happy with them when they learn they lost their money too." Steel turned to Bulldog. "Still no sign of Scar?"

Bulldog shook his head. "Seems to have vanished again. I don't think he's in town."

"Told you we should have put a tracker on him," Keys muttered under his breath.

Bulldog glared at Keys. "He's a free man. He can go where he wants. He's not at our beck and call."

Steel put a hand out to stop the escalation. "Why don't you think he's in town anymore? He came when he heard about Jasmine and the dogfighting ring."

Bulldog's eyes glanced down the table towards Angel before he turned back to Steel. "Because he didn't come running last night. If he knew about Angel and Bree being targeted, he'd already be here. He'd blame himself for not seeing it coming and not being there to protect them." Bulldog cleared his throat before adding, "And the Pythons would already be dead."

"Keep looking for him," Steel encouraged. "Scar might seem invincible but he's still human. He can die just like the rest of us. I don't like him being out in the open, alone."

A knock on the large double doors drew everyone's attention. Mitch, Steel's former CO and the oldest prospect the club had ever recruited, stuck his head into the room. "You have a visitor," he told Steel.

Steel scowled at him. "I'm in a meeting. Whoever it is can wait."

Mitch, who didn't back down from anyone, shook his head. "You're going to want to see this."

Angel watched as the two of them stared at each other for a long silent minute. Then Steel nodded. He stood up. Lucky and Bulldog followed him from the room.

Everyone sat still and quiet for a second before Pumpkin pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the double doors. "Anyone else interested in eavesdropping?"

It was a mass exodus from the room. The remaining members all tried to exit at once so they could get the best view. There was a small landing at the top of the stairs before the conference room they called Church. They were certainly not being stealthy or quiet as they pushed and elbowed their way onto the landing.

Bulldog glared at them over his shoulder but otherwise ignored them. Standing before Steel, Lucky, and Bulldog was a woman in all black. Her long dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a braid. She carried a full visor motorcycle helmet under her right arm. In front of her was a man on his knees with his hands bound.

She took notice of her audience and also ignored them. With a booted foot, she kicked the bound man forward. Unbalanced, he fell to his elbows before Steel's feet. "A present for you, darlin'," she said loudly. She had a southern accent, one that would have fit in better at tea parties and social gatherings than leather and a motorcycle. "Scar sends his love."