Chapter 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

GNAW

King,Atomic, and Guts are at my side as we ride toward our destination. Rim and Dennis drive behind us in the pickup truck. I'm not sure what information he's given yet, but Dennis does know things. None of this is by chance or happenstance.

This was all planned, including the Southern Mafia's part in it.

I'm not exactly sure how deep things go, but I still think that Dennis was involved. Although I'm pretty positive that someone from within the club is as well. Which is why church is no longer happening and why only the leaders of the club know anything at all from this point going forward.

The house in the country is new. It's right on the border between Texas and Louisiana. In the country with nothing around for miles. It's the perfect place to run a whole illegal club but also the perfect place to kill and be killed.

The gates open without us notifying anyone. We ride down the long dirt drive, having to dodge potholes every few feet, and I can't help but wonder what this is like when it's rainy out here because it's pretty fucking rough on a dry day.

I'm not surprised to see that the house is one of those huge plantation-style homes, just like the one in Shreveport. Pulling up the circle drive, I park my bike, and the others do the same. The truck brings up the rear.

This shit has to be done today with Sal. They've had him for too long. We're all worried about his safety at this point. And although we legally get the club if something were to happen to him, we would never wish for that shit.

Aside from all of that, we have visiting club members here for backup, and we need it done before they leave. I want this war off my back so I can selfishly focus on my woman, on Kyle. I want to build a life with her, and that's hard as fuck to do with war looming over everyone.

Then there's also the major factor of our warehouse and shipments that need to get back on schedule. A program that I am in charge of and have been slacking on for entirely too fucking long.

Granted, it's only been a couple of weeks. But just one day can completely and totally fuck a business over. I also need to double-check the keg deliveries to ensure that those are running smoothly.

Atomic takes the lead on this, and I look around, trying to find any evidence that we're being watched from any of the outbuildings, but I don't see anything. That doesn't mean they aren't there.

I also can't see Nash or any of our backup, but I know they're there—knowledge that only a few of us are privy to, considering everyone has been on edge with this possible traitor in the midst.

Never did I think that we would have to watch our backs against our own brothers. This entire situation is chaotic, foreign, and fucking ridiculous that we are even in the middle of it. But our club's hand was forced, and now it's time for them to fucking pay.

Atomic doesn't knock. He's fucking over this shit. I watch as he lifts his foot and slams his boot against the door, kicking it open. It splinters as it flies forward, and my lips twitch into a smirk at the sight of it.

With my gun loosely in my grasp, I follow behind Atomic and King as they move into the entryway of the house. The sight that greets us in the living room is Talon with a girl riding his dick, but that's not all.

There are also about five other men sitting around, either getting fucked, sucked, or doing lines from the coffee table. It looks very much like the clubhouse on a Friday night. I'm not surprised to see any of it.

Until I see him.

Xavier.

I know what he looks like. I did a little research in between all this stuff happening. What I found out was that this motherfucker is a complete piece of shit. And now he's getting his dick sucked by one of Talon's girls, which makes me wonder if he's a little closer to Talon than what was being let on.

"Fuck," Talon hisses.

"Don't stop on our accounts. We'll wait," Atomic says with a chuckle.

Guts laughs beside me. Planting my feet wide, I keep my gun to my side as Rim moves next to me, Dennis at his side. I'm not sure we can truly trust Dennis yet. I haven't felt bad vibes from him, but it seems odd that he's involved in this as just a bartender.

Dennis clears his throat, and I shift my attention to him. He gives me a small smile before he speaks. "Is Kyle okay?" he asks in a whisper.

My hackles rise, but mainly because I don't want any fucking man to ever think about Kyle again. Instead of telling him to mind his own goddamn business, I dip my chin in a single nod before I answer.

"She's safe," I state.

"Good," he rasps.

The conversation ends because Talon stands to his feet, pulling his pants up as he does. I watch, arching a brow and waiting for him to speak. He is taking his time, trying to assert his dominance, but it won't work.

He is not dominant. He's nothing but a try-hard wannabe. He wants to be the man in charge, but he lacks the general knowledge and confidence. He has no know-how. He is nothing but a boy playing a man's game.

"Well, it seems you've found me," Talon murmurs. "But I don't see my women."

Atomic snorts. "And you won't, not until this is squashed and you stay where you belong."

"Where do you think that is?" Talon asks.

It's King's turn to laugh. "We don't give a fuck where you stay or go, as long as you're nowhere near us, near our club, or our women. Keep your fucking shit to your goddamn self. I think we've made that really goddamn clear more than once."

Talon tilts his head to the side. "And I've told you more than once that the club is mine. I want my dues."

Atomic takes a step forward. "That shit is not going to happen," he growls. "If you want a full-blown war, you can have it, but those bitches we have aren't coming home, and none of you will survive it. We are not playing games here, Talon."

I watch as Talon's eyes widen. I've suspected he was bluffing most of this time, but seeing the expression flash across his face, I'm convinced. I whistle, a sharp, quick note, then I go for it. Because fuck him. Fuck Xavier. Fuck the whole crew.

Lifting my hand, I point the gun at Talon's forehead and shoot. He goes down within seconds, blood and brain matter flying everywhere, but my focus is not on him. It's on Xavier.

The girls are screaming and running, but Rim grabs them and shoves them against the wall. Dennis stands in place, appearing as if he's about to piss his pants, which, if I looked down, he probably already has.

I point my gun at Xavier's head while all of the other men around me do whatever it is they're doing with the others in the room. Probably searching for more men, who the fuck knows, but my focus is this man in front of me.

This dumb motherfucker who thought he could continue to abuse my woman.

She's not his, not anymore.

"Got a bone to pick with you." I keep my voice as calm as possible. "But I want to take my time with you, so you're coming with us." He opens his mouth to say something, but I shake my head once, my face set hard. "Don't fucking talk unless I ask you a question."

I hear laughter behind me, and I know that voice. It's Nash. "Looks like we had a fun but short party. Property is clear," he states.

"Good," King grunts. "We got three girls here, but we need to look for Sal. I think he might be upstairs."

"We're on it."

Bootsteps trample up the staircase, but it's Rim who asks if he can help me. "Put this fuck in the truck and drive him to the clubhouse. Lock him in the warehouse outside."

And everyone knows what that means. Because that's the place where people are questioned and don't usually walk away from. I can't fucking wait. And when this is done, Xavier will be gone, and so will the Southern Mafia.

You don't get to threaten and attempt to overthrow the Dark Horse MC without getting your ass handed to you. It's ass-handing time. Because I'm fucking done, and so is everyone else.

KYLE

I have no clothes.

Like, none.

Walking down to the bar, wearing one of Rider's black T-shirts and a pair of oversized sweats that I've rolled up about ten times around my waist, I look around for help. Shawn and Ryan are nowhere to be seen, but there are some other girls rather scantily clad hanging around, and three guys.

I make my way up to the one behind the bar. He jerks his chin toward me and asks me if he can get me anything to drink. I order water. Wordlessly, he turns his back to me, and a few moments later, he places a bottle in front of me.

"Excuse me?" I call out before he walks away.

When he turns around again, my gaze flicks down to his vest. Where Rider has a patch with the word SECRETARY in bold, this man has one with the word PROSPECT. He arches a brow, his eyes focused on me as I lift my own up to meet his.

"I know that Rider said for me to stay here, but I really need some clothes and things. I was wondering if anyone could take me to the motel in town so I could pack a bag?" I ask.

I don't mention the fact that I really want to tell Ophelia that I'm okay, maybe give her a hug, too, while I'm there. I think that should be okay. I don't see why Rider would be upset if I did that. It's not like I'll be without one of his people with me, and I need my things.

"No can do, babe," he says. "I'm not supposed to leave the grounds without permission," he states and lifts his hand, using his index finger to tap the patch on his chest.

"It's okay, Wackie. I got her," a man says as he walks up from somewhere behind me. He stands next to me. Slowly, I turn my head to the side before I tip it back slightly so I can look up into his eyes.

He's handsome and tall, with shaggy dark hair and stubble. I wonder if any of the men here are ugly, or maybe they are, but the leather, jeans, and general badass confidence override actual looks and trick the eye.

"I'm Loner," he says. "I'll take you down to get your stuff, and I'm sure you want to see Ophelia down there, maybe even visit Bren?"

My eyes widen at his words. I do. I want to do all of those things, but I wonder why he can take me, and the other one can't. But I decide not to question it. Instead, I give him a smile and thank him.

A few moments later, I'm sitting beside him in a pickup truck and watching the pine trees go by from the window. Loner doesn't talk, but when I hear a noise, I look over at him and watch as he grips the steering wheel so tightly that it's cracking from the pressure.

I open my mouth to say something, but he grunts before he clears his throat. "Shut the fuck up," he snaps. "Don't say a goddamn word."

I think I just messed up… big time.