Chapter 16

The roar of motorcycles tears through the warm Texas air and it’s deja vous all over again. These nomad fuckers really need to get a new MO. From where me and Ana are stationed, we have the perfect view of the bikes bearing down on us, although because we are slightly off to the side, we are out of any direct line of fire. Well, we would be if these fuckers were any good at shooting. There are errant bullets flying around as a row of men pull up in front of the clubhouse, firing at anything they can point their guns at. Looking at the number of men in front of us, I feel as if we have a pretty good chance. The fact the nomads split off into smaller groups helps. I’d rather me and Ana face 6 guys than 60 or however many of the bastards there are.

“These guys are just firing willy nilly! It’s bloody nuts!” Ana yells down at me from her perch.

“Just take out as many as you can, or at the very least, see if you can wing them.”

“No way, buddy. We’re outnumbered. We gotta even the odds by taking these guys outta the game permanently.” A smirk tugs at my lips at how fucking sassy my little wife is, and how little she cares about the law.

“Tav, Jules, 3 to the West” Dayz’s voice rings out over comms, and turning I see all three men in the west fall backward. I was right, the fuckers have us surrounded.

“Gus? You have one on foot coming toward you along the fence line. Thank you.” I smile at how polite Remy is while I shoot the guy she warned me about.

“Fox, Nitro, Judge, one each for you, coming in from the southern end. Back of compound.” Wire calls. I have to admit, the way all three of the hackers are doing an excellent job at comms, I’m thinking I might have to ask them to cover some of our more dangerous jobs.

The next moments are a blur of voices telling us to shoot left, right, north, south. Gunfire is ringing out from every angle, bodies of men that aren’t our brothers hitting the dirt. I even hear a heavily accented “Yahoo I got the bastard! This is the best holiday everrrrr!” yelled out in the distance.

A shout from above me rings out but before I can look up I flinch and a burning sensation spreads through my upper arm, like I’ve been stung by the biggest fucking bee in the world. Something falls from the tree and then I’m on my back in the dust. When I raise my head, Ana is on top of me, arm outstretched, firing at a fucker none of us saw coming. She spins to face the clubhouse, her black hair whipping around her.

“I need help! Gus is hit!” I watch as instead of checking me over, she goes back to her job, lining up shots and taking them. She’s like a fucking Valkyrie, all focus and fire, and if I wasn’t already in love with her, I would be now.

“Fuck! We have you both covered Ana.” Tav’s voice comes through the comms “How bad is it? If he can get to the clubhouse, we’ll lay down cover fire.”

“Ana? Stay where you are! You have two coming your way. Tav and Jules, cover from the roof, Tank, can you cover Ana and Gus from the ground? Thank you.” I know it’s not the time, but I let out a chuckle. Remy sounds like a fucking airport announcer.

I glance down at my arm as the burning gets more intense. It’s only a graze, so I have no idea why the hell it hurts so fucking bad. Tav’s been grazed before and never acted like this.

Pounding coming from somewhere above my head sounds out before two massive boots come to a rest on either side of my head and Tank looks down at me quickly before shuffling to the side, kneeling next to Ana and whispering something in her ear.

“Get back fucker! She’s mine!” I grit out before letting my head fall back onto the ground for a moment. I take a deep breath to center myself again then raise my head up in time to see Ana and Tank fire in unison, both gunmen they were aiming at losing their guns and some of their fingers. Tank murmurs something into his comms and in no time I see the two young prospects gather up the fingerless, screaming nomads and drag them into the compound.

“You two alright? Who needed medical assistance?” Tank’s impossibly deep voice grits out. Fuck, I wish I had that voice. I’d be Barry White-ing my way through life.

“Gus! He’s been hit. Take him to Switch, I’ll cover you,” Ana barks out and then turns back to fire more shots at a couple of nomads that are still fighting rather than running like they should be.

Tank looks down at me with his brow raised in question, but I grit my teeth and shake my head.

“It’s a graze man, I’ll be fine,” I’m dizzy as fuck and my throat feels itchy and tight, but I’m not about to tell the man that. I’m more than pissed that instead of protecting my wife, my family, fuck, even my friends, I’m lying on the fucking ground like a pussy.

Ana kneels beside me. I hear her huff a breath and then mutter to herself in her mother’s language. I let the sound of her sweet voice wash over me as I listen to the happenings around me. The gunfire slows until it sounds like only one guy left. His wild gunfire stops abruptly the moment after I hear Pops’ rifle ring out.

“Yippee, yee hoo motherfucker!” Pops’ voice yells out before a groan comes from the roof.

“It’s yippee kay aye, motherfucker!”

“It’s whatever the fuck I want it to be, dickhead,” Pops yells back and I bury my face in my wife’s hair and chuckle into it, holding her to me with my good hand. She shakes me off, turning to me with wild eyes.

“Shit, Tank, Gus doesn’t look good,” A growl leaves my body when Ana puts pressure on my arm. It hurts like a motherfucker, so I grab both her hands, holding them in one of mine.

“It’s ok. I’m pretty sure it’s a graze. I’m fine, baby, just fine. Thank you for having my back.” I gently kiss her, reveling in the feeling of her lush lips on mine.

“I’ll always have your back, Gus, like now. You need help.” She looks up at Tank, who curses and then does something I don’t care about. All I care about is my wife, who is gazing down at me with fear in her eyes.

Gus’s eyes roll back and his head thuds against the ground.

“Fuck! I’ve never seen someone faint after being grazed before,” Tank says, looking down at Gus with a squinty eye. I feel for Gus’s pulse, which races beneath my fingertips. Something is definitely not right.

“His pulse is racing, we need to get him inside,” I get to my feet and try to pull up Gus, however the man is a beast at the best of times, tall and broad with tightly packed muscle. Out to it he’s dead weight that I have little chance in hell of moving.

Footsteps make their way toward me and, looking up, I see Tav and Jules sprinting toward us.

“Switch is getting his shit ready. Jules, Tav, get Gus inside now! The coast is clear. Tank, provide cover just in case” Dayz speaks calmly yet quickly into all our comms and I watch helplessly as the Tombs brothers pick up Gus as if he weighs nothing. Tank wraps his incredibly weighty arm around my shoulders and we hustle into the common room where Tav and Jules have dumped Gus on the table.

“Shit! What’s wrong with the boy? It only looks like a graze on the upper arm. Has he been hit elsewhere?” Pops barks out, concern marring his tanned, wrinkled face. Switch runs a knife through the front of Gus’s henley, ripping the material from his body, looking for wounds and finding none other than the bullet wound to his upper left arm. The tension in the room is suffocating. Men vibrating with anger or worry. Jules and Tav stand solemnly on either side of Pops, Dayz in Rhodie’s arms with a blank stare on her face. There’s no teasing or quips from them, no incessant chatter, the unease causing my body to shake.

I can feel the panic pressing down on me like a crashing wave. I knew this was too good to last. My breaths are coming fast and I need to get a grip on myself before I completely lose it. A warm hand wraps around my shaking one and I turn to see my mum’s warm eyes twinkle back at me. Not a worry in the world.

“He’ll be fine, e hine, my girl. Trust these men. I do.” She gives me an emphatic nod and her gaze drifts back to my husband’s body on the same table I’ve sat at for dinner. Switch frowns down at Gus for a moment, rubbing on Gus’s bare chest.

“Ana, does his chest always look like this?” I step on shaky legs to stand beside Switch, before looking at Gus’s chest. Frowning, I get closer for a better look before jerking back.

“Is that a rash? I’ve never seen it before. He didn’t have it this morning.” A rattling sound coming from Gus punctuates my words.

“Fuck! I know what’s wrong with him. Wait here!” Switch booms out. If I thought Marx had a loud voice, it’s nothing on this guy. He thunders down the hall to his room, clinic, whatever you want to call it. I grab a hold of Gus’s large hand in mine and caress the back of it, helping to not only anchor myself, but hopefully him, too.

Pounding on the floorboards heralds Switch’s return and we all watch as he pulls the cap off of a pen-like thing and stabs it into Gus’s thigh.

“Um, Switch, he’s fucked up his arm, not his leg, son.” Pops says, slowly, as if Switch is an idiot.

“It’s an epipen. He’s having an anaphylactic reaction to being shot. It’s super fucking rare and I’ve only seen it once before on the battlefield. I’m guessing he hasn’t been hit before?”

We all look at each other, eyes wide, in silence before Tav sputters, “Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling us he’s allergic to being shot? No one is allergic to that!” He bursts into a fit of laughter, much of which I’m sure is brought on by relief, but even to my ears, it sounds absolutely insane. Looking to Switch to see if he’s taking the piss, he just shrugs his broad shoulders at me.

“What can I say? It’s rare, but there are people that have allergies to gunshot residue. I’m guessing Gus is probably used to having a rash after firing his weapon given he uses a gun in his job, but being shot would have the residue on the inside of his body, causing a stronger reaction. Most just end up with hives or a rash. Only rarely do they end up with swollen throat, and anaphylaxis,” Switch looks back down at his patient and when Gus’s eyes flutter open my shaky legs give out, Mum having to hold me upright for a moment before a strong steady hand takes hold of my arm and some of my weight. Half turning my head, I see Jules looking down at me, his eyebrows pinched before he mumbles in his monotone voice,

“He’s ok, girl. He’s ok. Fucking ridiculous being allergic to a gunshot wound, but he’s alive.”

I nod up at him in thanks, and someone shoves a chair into the back of my legs. I sit heavily, one hand still wrapped in Gus’s, while I gently brush his hair back with my other hand.

“What the fuck happened? I feel like I’m having a heart attack and my arm is on fire,” his voice croaks out. He also has a slight lisp, which has my eyebrows making out with my hairline as I look at Switch who murmurs quietly “Swollen tongue” as he goes about disinfecting the bullet graze.

“You fucking got grazed by a bullet, had an allergic reaction that knocked your big ass out, giving us all fucking heart attacks! Doc, after you patch his big ass up, I’ll need you to check my blood pressure and maybe up my meds. Jesus Christ, kid! An allergic reaction? Really? Must come from your mother’s side. I’d never pass on that bullshit. I’ve been shot three times in my life and do you see my tongue swelling up? Christ on a bike.” I roll my lips between my teeth and we all watch as Pops stomps to the bar, demanding their hard stuff straight from the bottle.

Chuckles break out around me as the tension eases some now that we all know Gus is fine. There weren’t any other casualties on our side, not that you can count this as one. The nomads fucked with the wrong people today.

“Switch, patch up Gus. Everyone else, we’re gonna have to help the prospects with body clear up. Does anyone know where Hammer’s headquarters are? Be nice to send his trash back to him,” Marx looks around the room, but everyone is drawing a blank. Until now, I think we all thought it was a Death Riders’ problem. Well, that was before he started recruiting Bratva men. But by bringing this fight to DRMC, it looks like it’s us against them and we have a lack of knowledge about how many men he actually has, what exactly he wants from us, and where the hell to find him.

“Fuck. Fine. Chewy, you got any idea how to get rid of a bunch of bodies?” A stool scrapes along the floor and Pops hotfoots it over to Dayz, their heads together frantically whispering before her head pops up.

“Leave it with us, big man! Just pile the bodies by the Chamber of Secrets and we’ll deal with it later.” Dayz gives him a grin and the thumbs up as the four Death Riders all exchange wary looks with each other.

“Gus, you all good to sit up? Do it slowly, so you don’t get a head rush from the adrenaline I just gave you.” Gus nods and slowly rolls into a sitting position on the table before swinging his legs to the side. Hopping off the table he tugs me to standing, dropping a kiss on my lips then taking my seat and pulling me into his lap.

“No, hell no! You were just shot. You don’t need my big arse on you. Let me go!” I shake my head at him and try very gently to fight his hold on me, but his grip is too strong and I don’t want to hurt him, so I give up with a huff. He presses his lips to my temple, inhaling my scent before dropping a kiss just below my ear and whispering, “Thank you, baby. I just need to feel you in my arms. I need you to ground me.” I let out a breath and watch as men wander back and forth, busying themselves.

I’m feeling all over the place, the adrenaline of what we just went through fading fast. My body feels bone tired, limbs heavy, and an ache behind my eyes coming on. I’m also feeling incredibly unsettled. When I thought there was something really wrong with Gus, I thought this was it. The moment the other shoe dropped. In the heat of the moment, I didn’t have the time to think it all through, but now? As I sit in his arms? Yeah, I don’t think I can handle the heartache of losing him. This whole thing is a mess and I’m exhausted. I close my eyes for a moment and it must have been longer than I thought because when I open them, everyone is gathering in the common room. Marx’s shrill whistle rents the air, drawing the attention to him.

“Ok fuckers. This is the second time we’ve been attacked in our own house and I dont know about you, but I’ve had e-fucking-nough of it. Savage, this seems like your shit you brought to our doorstep, so I hope you have a fucking idea on how to fix it.” Marx shoots daggers at the other man, who does not seem the least bit concerned.

“Fuck man, I would if I could, but this only fucking happens when we’re in Rose Grove.” He shrugs his shoulders and looks at Dex, who nods in agreement. Everyone is quiet as that sinks in. Gazing across the room, I see Dayz in her favorite spot, perched on Rhodie’s knee, squishing her lip.

“So, you’ve never been attacked at home?” Dayz asks abruptly, cutting Marx off. He just rolls his eyes and gestures for her to carry on.

Savage shakes his head. “The only time it’s happened is when we’re here.”

Dayz nods absently and I can see her lips moving, but nothing coming out. She spins her head in my direction before asking,

“Are your shipments still being messed with?”

“Yup. We thought we nipped it in the bud when we found the men that were being paid off by Hammer, but we had another shipment arrive today that was all messed up. Roman is tightening up security. We have another shipment coming in two days that Savage and Dex are transporting and neither of us can afford for it to be missing any product,” and by product, I mean guns, or drugs. These men and my mum know the drill, so I know I don’t have to hide anything or mince words. DRMC is an ally of the Bratva and, by extension, so are the Death Riders.

“Verrrry interesting.” She squints and makes a motion with her hand as if she’s stroking an imaginary beard. I see Savage raise a brow at Dex before they both shrug and quietly wait for whatever genius stuff Dayz is going to come up with.

While all this is happening, somehow my mother has baked bloody bickies, or cookies, as these guys call them. She’s going around delivering them and giving the men little shoulder squeezes or pats on the back. I should be more concerned by how easily she’s slipped into this lifestyle, but she seems happy and we have bigger things to worry about, so I’ll deal with that later. Much later.

“Right, so we can assume Hammer is after you because you cut him from his own club. His men only attack us when you guys are here and I would imagine that’s because DRMC and Death Riders are now allies. If he takes out both clubs, that gives him control of a larger territory and the ability to move anything he likes. The question is, why fuck with the Bratva and how the hell did he get in there in the first place?”

Everyone looks at me, and I shrug.

“We have no idea either. Most men in the Bartashev Bratva are born into it. Only very few get invited in, and they start out the lowest of the low. The shit Hammer is pulling off, messing with shipments, that’s information only higher ups know. I can’t imagine anyone breaking the Bratva bond to deal with Hammer.”

Dayz squints at Savage for a moment.

“Last time shit went down, you said that Flack had been getting paranoid. That’s why he wanted Remy here?”

“Yeah. He’s been antsy since we put Hammer out. Obviously, whatever he knows is fucking true and not just his paranoid musings.” Dayz nods once and then leaves the room, leaving us all hanging.

“I fucking hate when she does that,” Rider says to no one in particular. “Just leaves you hanging, no explanation at all.”

“Chewy said you may need our input.” Remy’s voice a quiet whisper in the room. Rider jumps as she’s standing closest to him and he hadn’t even noticed her and her father were there. Although I have no idea how he missed Flack, the man, like all the other men around here, is huge.

“Fuck! You need a bell, girl.” He says, his large hand splayed across his chest.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” she whispers out. She looks around the room, her bangs always slightly in her eyes. From what I know of her, she’s spent her whole life in the MC, although she is completely different from what most people raised in an MC are like if Marx, Rhodie and Rider are anything to go by.

“Thanks Remy, Flack.” Marx nods at them both. “Savage said you had an idea shit was going South with Hammer. Was that before or after you kicked him out?” Marx says in a slightly softer voice than usual. I notice that this is something the men do when Remy is around. She brings softness out in people.

“It wasn’t Dad. It was me. I was doing the digging and feeding it back to him.”

We watch as she pulls her shoulders back and raises her head to look at Marx and then Savage.

“I-I don’t have all the information yet, but with Wire and Chewys’ help, I will. And I will kill the man that put that effing bullet in my dad.”

“Good girl,” Flack says at the same time as me and Dayz do. The men look a little taken aback by her words, which is funny in itself given that she said ‘effing’ instead of fuck, but they still back her up by banging their fists on any available surface.

“What do you know so far, Rem?” Savage asks her.

She blows out a breath. “You know when I was a kid I liked to read in quiet places?”

Savage cringes before saying, “I’ll never be able to forget that time I was newly patched and a club girl took me into the pantry to give me oral. Next thing, I feel a small hand tap me on the ass and your little voice saying ‘Excuse me, Mr. Savage, can I please get out of here?’”

We all laugh while Remy turns bright red. “Well, I guess I never really grew out of the habit.”

“What do you know?” Marx asks, his voice still quieter than usual. It’s nice, but also a little unnerving.

“I never really paid too much attention cos it was always club business, so I stayed out of it. But before the stuff with Kraykowski, I overheard Hammer. Speaking Russian.” She looks at me before darting her gaze back to Savage.

“How do you know it was Russian?”

She stares at him for a moment before answering. “Because it sounds a lot like when Dex talks to his mom,” All the eyes in the clubhouse shoot to Dex.

“Both my parents are Russian immigrants. All above board.” He grits out. Savage places a hand on his shoulder as Marx eyes him slightly before giving him a chin lift. We all know the Tombs ran prelim background checks on the men before they became allies, and nothing was flagged, but it seems like an unusual coincidence. Especially with all the other stuff going on.

Remy continues talking, “No one ever notices me around the club, it’s just how it is. Hammer was the same. I told my dad, and he said he’d keep an eye on him.”

“When was this?”

“Hmm, around a month before the Kraykowski thing.”

“Weren’t you already Pres by that time Savage?” Marx says

“We were in the transition then. Flack was the one who led the charge in getting Hammer to step down,”

“No wonder you got your ass shot,” Pops pipes up, tipping his chin at Flack, who just grins back. Pops’ eyes then dart to Remy “Oh, sorry girl” She smiles sweetly at him, crinkles her nose and shrugs.

“Ok, so I think we agree Hammer is fucking with us all, MC and Bratva. Around the time Remy is talking about there were three Russians at play. Roman was running the Bratva here, Ushakov was pulling strings from Russia, and Kovalev was in the skin trade. Savage, your MC under Hammer’s leadership were still 1 percenters, although you never traded in skin, so if he was headed down that track he could have been in business with either of them way back then, and Roman, along with the rest of us, shut it all down. That could explain why he has a hard on for us,” Dayz says, looking around the room at everyone who had a role to play.

“Motherfucker. We should have just taken him out,” Savage moans as he runs a hand down his face.

“We need to find who he’s working with. How does he know when you guys are on a run?” Dayz looks to the Death Riders, who look at each other before muttering “Fuck” under their breaths.

“And it makes sense that he’s the one that placed a man on you, Gus and Ana,” Gus stiffens for a moment, his arms banding around me even tighter as I’m still perched on the poor guy’s knee. Soaking up all he has to give me before this comes crashing down.

“And Ana, we need to find out who his contact is in the Bratva. Once we find this shit out, we may actually have a chance to take the fight to him for a change.”

That’s the problem, though. If he’s working with one of the Bratva, I don’t think I’ll want to know.