Bound: Minutemen MC (12 page)

Chapter 18: War

A couple of days later, Dirk woke up to an insistent sound hovering just at the edge of his consciousness. It took him a minute to realize that the ringing wasn’t just in his head but actually came from outside. He sat bolt upright, dislodging Camilla who had been asleep on his chest. They had taken to sleeping together after their hot encounters, and it was a habit that neither of them was willing to stop and really analyze.

“You should get dressed,” he told her as he jumped out of bed and did just that. “It’s probably one of the boys out there, and it’s not a good idea for them to figure out what we’re doing here.”

Camilla stared at him, bleary-eyed. Once his words finally registered, the expression on her face let him know that she thought that what they did in Dirk’s house was no one else’s business, but to her credit, she had the good sense not to say anything.

Dirk was already halfway through the door before she had even found her panties. “Camilla, seriously,” he said urgently, “hurry up.”

She glared at him, and he felt the familiar shiver that the fire in her green eyes always caused to run down his spine.

“I’m doing the best I can!” she snapped.

The doorbell rang again. Dirk cursed.

“I’m going downstairs,” he said. “When you join us, make sure they can’t tell you’re coming from my bedroom.”

She stared at him like he was crazy, but once again she didn’t argue, something for which he was incredibly grateful.

He hurried downstairs. His hand firmly clutched his gun, just in case. He didn't expect the Tar Mongols to have found out where he lived, but he still came prepared; it was a habit that had saved his life many times in the past. He peered at the screen in the hall that showed him the view from the security cameras scattered around the perimeter of the house. What he saw had his stomach in knots in one split second.

Stephan Walker was standing at his front door, peering impatiently up in the eye of the camera. Dirk swallowed. For Stephan to abandon the headquarters in the middle of a Tar Mongols crisis could only mean that trouble had hit the MC.

Dirk shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans and took a deep breath. He reached the front door in a few long strides and threw it open.

Stephan’s hazel eyes glared daggers at him, and Dirk froze. He had only found himself on the receiving end of one of Stephan’s looks a handful of times, but it hit him every time; it was like being impaled by a hundred
very
sharp swords. 

“You took your sweet time,” Stephan all but growled.

Dirk did his best not to flinch. Stephan Walker was a dangerous man on the best of days; on his bad days, he was downright lethal.

“I was—”

“Spare me,” Stephan cut him off sharply. “I can only imagine.”

Dirk swallowed and, to his horror, felt his cheeks heat up.

“Oh, relax,” Stephan snapped. “I couldn’t care less what you do in your own bed. Now are you going to let me in or what?”

Dirk jumped, realizing they were still in the doorway. He hurried aside and let Stephan walk past him. Dirk shot a quick look around outside to make sure that no one was spying on them, and then he closed the front door and bolted it. Stephan was making a beeline to the kitchen, and Dirk hurried after him.

“I need the blackest coffee you’ve got,” he announced as he took a seat at the kitchen island.

Dirk eyed him carefully. There were dark circles under Stephan’s eyes, and a quiet fire burning in the hazel irises. This could not be good.

“Why are you here?” Dirk asked as nonchalantly as he could, as he busied himself with preparing the requested coffee.

“We’ve got a problem,” Stephan said.

There was a dark tone in his voice that made Dirk turn around halfway through pouring the water in the pot.

Stephan waved a hand at him in dismissal. “Just make the coffee, Dirk. We’ll talk after.”

Dirk nodded wordlessly. It was too obvious that Stephan needed a moment to collect himself, which was terrifying enough. Stephan Walker was the most collected man Dirk had ever met; if
he
needed a moment, whatever had gone down must be worse than bad.

Dirk moved in silence through the kitchen, and he only spoke when he finally set two steaming mugs on the island’s counter and he took a seat across from his president. He spoke then, because Stephan had taken off his jacket and there were fresh bandages peering out from underneath the open V-neck of his white, cotton T-shirt.

“What happened to you?” Dirk asked, his eyes narrowing.

Stephan took a long sip of dark coffee before replying. “The Tar Mongols are what happened to me.”

Dirk frowned. “What?”

“They attacked the headquarters.”

Dirk felt his blood run cold with dismay and hot with rage at the same time. “When was this?”

“Two days ago.”

“Two d—? Why wasn’t I informed?”

“You would’ve come,” Stephan said simply. “I need you here. With her.”

Dirk stared at the man in disbelief. “You’d rather have me here babysitting than out there on the field with you guys?”

Stephan huffed impatiently. “I need you to keep an eye on her. You’re the only man I trust with the job. Everyone else is too sensitive to women’s curves.”

Dirk arched an eyebrow. “Uh…I’m sleeping with her, in case you forgot.”

“Exactly. So you’ve ruled out the temptation. I trust you to do your job even while you’re screwing her. I can’t say the same about anyone else in our midst. God bless them and their ever-present horniness.”

Dirk scowled. He couldn’t say that he agreed with what Stephan was asking of him, but—at the very least—he had to admit that the man had a point—as always. It infuriated him sometimes, the way Stephan was always right about pretty much everything.

“So this is the second attack those bastards unleash on us in the span of one week,” Dirk reflected darkly, remembering how five days ago he had taken Camilla from the MC’s headquarters in the middle of the night and brought her to his house in the desert. That attack had been stopped before Ruiz’s thugs could get to the headquarters. This time, it seemed, the MC had not been so fortunate.

“Yeah,” Stephan echoed, just as grimly. “Those fuckers are really getting cocky.”

“Was anyone else hurt?” Dirk asked.

“A few flesh wounds, nothing serious.”

Dirk nodded. “What about
your
wound?” he asked, knowing how Stephan tended to downplay his own injuries. “Are you all right?”

Stephan shrugged instinctively, and he winced when he did so. “I’m fine,” he said with a grunt. He looked up and met Dirk’s gaze. “They want her, Dirk,” he said quietly. “They want her bad enough that they’re risking storming into our home base.”

Dirk grimaced.
Shit.
That was definitely
not
good news. “What do you want to do?”

Stephan ran a hand nervously through his blond hair. “I don’t want to give her to them,” he admitted. “But we might not have a choice. It’s getting bad, Dirk.”

Dirk frowned. Something in Stephan’s voice made him pause. “How bad?” he asked. “What is it that you’re not telling me?”

Stephan sighed. He picked up his mug and took another long sip, and his hand trembled. Dirk’s stomach spasmed with renewed tension.

“Alex.”

Stephan said just that. “Alex.” One word. One name. And Dirk knew that Alex Hurley was dead.

Dirk clenched his fist so tight that his knuckles turned white. “You just told me no one else got hurt—”

“Not in the attack to our headquarters, no,” Stephan said.

Dirk stared at him. “Just say it, Stephan. What the fuck happened?”

It wasn’t like Stephan to dance around a subject. The fact that he was doing it had Dirk suspecting that whatever had gone down must have been some sort of unspeakable horror. As it turned out, he was right.

“They broke into his house. They killed them all.”

It took a few moments for the words to register. It was just too huge, too horrific. Memories of Eleanor rushed into Dirk’s head. He shook them away firmly, but his stomach was now so tight that he felt like he might throw up at any second.

“What?” he finally said, voice choked with pain and fury.  

“It happened into the night,” Stephan said. “Johnny found them this morning.”

“All of them?” Dirk dared to ask after a few moments of silence. “Dead?”

Stephan nodded grimly. “All of them.”

Heavy silence descended upon them. Dirk’s head was reeling, trying to grasp the enormity of what he had just learned.

“Dirk,” Stephan finally said, his quiet, firm voice forcefully pulling Dirk away from his grim reverie. “This has got to stop. We must give her over.”

Fuck, no,
Dirk thought forcefully. Aloud, he said, “We
can’t
give her over.”

Stephan’s hazel eyes flashed in anger. “A woman and two children are dead, Dirk!” he snapped. “What the fuck do you want me to do? Wait until they slaughter someone else? This has got to stop!”

“He’s right, Dirk.”

Both men turned sharply to see Camilla standing in the kitchen’s doorway. She looked pale and horrified, and Dirk realized with dismay that she had heard the last, horrific part of their conversation.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said sternly.

“Bullshit,” she argued, stepping further into the room, fearless as always. “This is about me.” Her green eyes searched Stephan’s face intently. “Did they really kill that family because of me?”

Stephan didn’t waver and met her gaze straight on. “Yes,” he said. “They’re looking for you. This was punishment for us not telling them where you are.”

Camilla swallowed visibly. “So those people got slaughtered because you’re protecting me?”

In an uncharacteristic display of emotion, Stephan snorted. “We’re not protecting
you
, princess,” he spat. “We’re protecting Dirk’s location. The last thing we need is for the Tar Mongols to find out where he lives.”

Dirk winced. He was about to say something, but once again Camilla beat him to it.

“You should hand me over to them,” she said. “Then this will stop. I don’t want children to be killed because of me.” Her voice trembled and her eyes filled with tears, but she was brave enough not to let them fall.

“No,” Dirk growled. “We’re not giving you over. I’ve got another solution,” he said hurriedly when Stephan opened his mouth to protest.

The Minutemen’s president narrowed his eyes and studied him carefully. “And what would that be?”

“We fight.”

Stephan blinked. “Pardon?”

“We fight, God damn it!” Dirk said, slamming his fist on the island’s counter. “This has been going on too long. It’s time to stop with the skirmishes. We gotta wipe them out once and for all. We gotta win the war, Stephan. It’s the only way this’ll ever stop, and you know it. Do you think they’ll leave us alone if we give Camilla over or once she’s out of California? They’ll always have a reason to attack us. Unless we finally stop with the battles and win this war.”