Chapter 11

11

FOX

M otorcycle clubs were not the place to find men with clean hands. Some of us, like the Iron Rogues or Silver Saints, had honor, loyalty, and limits, but we were still involved in shady shit, had blood on our hands, and doled out our own brand of justice. At times, we'd worked with local law enforcement, but I was the judge and jury at moments like this. And in this case, I would also be the executioner.

I rode my bike out to a small building that sat at a spot on our property that was the farthest from any of the businesses, homes, and clubhouse. From the outside, it looked a lot like the safehouse Dahlia and I had holed up in. But on the inside, it was very, very different. We called it "The Room," a name as dismissive as its exterior. The interior had four rooms, a lounging area of sorts, a cell, an interrogation hold, and a space with a cache of…tools that might be needed to aid us in gaining what we wanted.

After parking my hog near the single entrance, I checked my phone again, re-reading Molly's text that assured me Dahlia was fine. I'd hated to leave my girl, but I needed to get this done so we could move on with our lives. Mav and Molly were watching over her, and that had to be enough for the moment.

The door of "The Room" opened, and Storm—the Iron Rogues Captain and an expert interrogator and negotiator—stepped out into the light of dawn.

"What kind of shape is he in?" I asked as I tucked my cell in my pocket and closed the distance between us. Nic had assured me that he would leave Cordell in one piece and "relatively healthy."

Storm grinned. "Couple of broken fingers, missing pinky, and a broken kneecap."

I couldn't help chuckling. How very mafia.

When I stepped inside, Blade was exiting the cell. He glanced up and nodded in greeting. "I bandaged the missing digit and set the broken ones in a splint. Kneecap is shattered though, not much I can do there."

"Bet he fell all over himself thanking you," Storm drawled, clearly relishing what came next. He could be a little bloodthirsty. But only when it came to fuckers who deserved it.

Cordell didn't know where he was or why he'd been brought here. So when Blade went in to fix him up, I could see how he might have been mislabeled as a hero.

"Put him in the blue room," I ordered as I walked through the third door on the right. I flipped on the light and glanced over my options. After some deliberation, I decided to go old school, grabbing a bat, brass knuckles, and a switchblade.

My gun was already loaded for the finale.

When I stepped into the room where Cordell was tied to a chair in the center, he looked at me with surprise, then his expression morphed into loathing and a hint of smug defiance.

"Looking awfully calm for someone who pissed off an Iron Rogue," Blade drawled as he leaned back against the wall.

"You wouldn't risk Nic's business by hurting his family," Cordell spat.

"Don't see any of his family here," I stated in a steely tone.

"Call Nic," he muttered, looking just a touch less confident.

"Who do you think gave me your location so fast?"

Cordell blanched. "He wouldn't betray family…"

"You might have gone after me, but my woman was caught in the crossfire. I don't know if you didn't think about that or didn't care, but either way, you crossed a big fucking line. Nic doesn't tolerate attacks against wives and children. You were already on thin ice with him. When he found out about my old lady, he washed his hands of you."

Cordell shrank into himself as the truth of his situation hit him. "I didn't mean for her to get hurt," he whined like a little bitch.

His eyes darted to the left, indicating he was lying, which added to my rage.

Stepping close, I rammed my fist into his jaw so hard it snapped his head back and rocked the chair. "You mean you didn't give a fuck if anyone else was hurt when you tried to kill me," I growled. "Lying to me isn't the smart play here."

"The truth won't save me."

"No," I agreed as I slipped on the brass knuckles. "You're gonna die for hurting my woman, but honesty might save you a little pain."

"Fine. I knew she'd probably be with you, but I figured if you were dead, you wouldn't care that she'd been killed too."

My next hit broke his nose, sending blood spurting out.

"I lied," I told him as I slipped into a side of me that felt little to no emotion, making me a deadly foe. "This is gonna hurt."

"Damn, Prez," Storm said with a low whistle. "And they call me bloodthirsty."

I rolled my eyes as I strode to a little kitchenette and started washing the blood off my hands.

"Brutal," Blade agreed. "Gotta say, though, Dahlia is your weakness now. You're always gonna have to be on your guard for people who'll try to get to you through her."

"You think I haven't already considered that? Dahlia deserves a fuck of a lot more than a man like me, but I'm just enough of a bastard not to care."

"Don't think I could give up my control like that," Storm mused as he cleaned the instruments I'd used to inflict hours of pain on the man who'd almost taken away the person who mattered most to me.

"When the right woman comes along, you won't care," I stated.

Blade scoffed. "Bullshit. The last thing I need is an old lady to deal with."

Storm muttered an agreement, and I just shook my head at their stupidity. It was almost funny that they thought they'd have a choice in the matter. I certainly hadn't. The second I saw Dahlia, I'd known there wasn't anything I wouldn't do to have her. She owned me from that moment on.

"Dispose of the body," I instructed as I dried my hands. "I need to get back to Dahlia." There was some other blood spatter on me, but I'd wanted to at least have clean hands for the ride home.

"Got it," Storm murmured.

I gave them a sharp lift of my chin in farewell, then walked out while they started talking about an upcoming car race that one of our enforcers—aptly named Racer—was driving in.

Once I arrived back at the clubhouse, I went to my office, where I had an extra change of clothes and used the attached bathroom to take a quick shower.

Before I could leave to head upstairs, a couple of prospects stopped in to report on an issue I'd had them taking care of. I schooled my patience and listened to their update, then walked swiftly toward the stairs. At least two other people stopped me, and as their president, I told myself I couldn't blow them off. However, when I shook off the last one, I dashed up the stairs and down the hall to my room.

Since I wasn't sure if Dahlia was awake yet, I entered as quietly as possible. Maverick was stretched out on the couch with a sleeping Molly curled into his side.

He lifted his chin in greeting and darted his eyes toward the bedroom before mouthing, "Asleep."

I nodded and silently entered the bedroom, then shut the door behind me. The blinds were closed, but it was late morning, so the room was still somewhat illuminated. Dahlia was on my side of the bed, curled around my pillow, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

Without taking my eyes off her, I shed my clothing and climbed onto the mattress. Dahlia stirred as I pulled her into my arms and glanced down to see her sleepily blinking up at me.

"You got him?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, baby. He won't be a problem anymore."

She knew I wouldn't say anything else, and I waited for her to show some amount of annoyance over it. But she just smiled sweetly and snuggled deeper into my embrace.

I fucking loved everything about this woman, and when she healed, I was gonna drag her ass to the nearest courthouse and make her mine in every way.

The only question I wasn't sure how to answer was whether to talk to her father about us before or after she wore my ring. If I thought I could drag it out until I knew if she was pregnant, I'd definitely choose after. Because a marriage couldn't be annulled if the couple was expecting a baby.

However, I'd never been a coward, and I wasn't about to start now. And if my daughter had been injured by a car bomb, I'd want to know about it. So I owed him a call.

Maverick had already done the heavy lifting for us anyway. Mac had been forced to swallow having an Iron Rogue for a son-in-law, so why not two?