Heart Ties (Club Ties Book 2) (29 page)

Drake was purging his heart to her, but he didn’t take joy in the deaths. He said it was kill or be killed, and the Sons had done what needed to be done.

“What about the Raiders? When Lucky hears I’m back—” Belle cut off.

White-hot terror ripped through Delta’s stomach, and she clung to Belle right back. “They won’t find out. No one but me really knows you were in that car with Vasily.”

She stiffened.

Awareness crept over Delta. She pulled away enough to look into Belle’s eyes. “Vasily was taking you back to Lucky, wasn’t he?”

She nodded, a tear splashing down her face.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Delta needed to tell Drake. She said a few comforting words to her friend then went to stand at the entryway, listening for the other door to open so she could talk to Drake. If he was going into some mess for her, he needed to know shit went deeper. They needed to protect Belle too now.

Drake laid out the mess with the Raiders and his plans to end it. His brothers voted to follow his lead.

Then Jamison raised a hand. “There’s one more vote on the table today.”

They all looked at him. Jamison had been leading them for a while now, since Strother lost his son and his mind. But something had changed in the few hours Jamison had worn that president’s patch—he was stronger, fiercer. He was a good and worthy leader.

“There’s a small problem of a seat to fill.”

Drake pivoted his head to stare at the empty chair.

“Actually, the Sons officers are all Strother’s choosing, and I plan to make some changes.” Jamison’s voice carried the weight of what he was about to do. Strip patches and put them on other men’s chests. It could be dangerous if one of them wasn’t as loyal to Jamison as he’d been to Strother. Also, the new officer could become a target of animosity.

Drake pressed his lips into a line and waited.

The room went dead silent.

“Mitch.” Jamison gestured toward one of the oldest members, who wore the sergeant at arms patch. “I might need your wisdom to back me. Will you take the VP seat?”

The man’s eyes bulged, and a huge grin made his bushy beard twitch. “I’d be honored, brother.”

“All in favor?”

All hands raised, and they followed the vote with a thumping of fists on the table. Part of Drake was relieved. He’d been in a commanding position in the service, and he was ready to step back and give someone else control.

Well, a little control.

Jamison handed Mitch a knife. He pulled off his cut and sliced the threads of his sergeant at arms patch. The patch lay curled on the table, up for grabs. Jamison handed Mitch the VP patch, and a roar filled the room.

Mitch sank to the new chair, and Jamison raised a hand for silence. Next he pointed to Ace.

“You’re my right hand. Always have been. This club needs you to keep doing what you’re doing. I vote that Ace stays on as secretary.”

Thumping, cheering.

“The treasurer for the past three years has been Bunky, and we can’t fudge the books without him. All in favor of keeping Bunky as treasurer?”

“Aye!”

Thumping, cheering. Bunky sat back and grinned.

“Now this patch,” Jamison scooped the sergeant at arms patch under the blade of the knife Mitch had used and lifted it, “Is a very important patch.” He looked from one man to the next.

They bobbed their heads.

He got up and went to stand behind the empty chair. “The man who fills this seat is a protector. He has military training and knows how to keep the club in order.”

A funny warmth spread through Drake’s stomach at the mention of military training. If there was a position in this MC he wanted to fill, this would be it. But he wouldn’t throw a tantrum if the patch went to a brother. He’d still do right by the Sons.

He became aware of several sets of eyes on him. He stared down at his hands, tattooed with stars and letters spelling out his devotion to the MC.

“I’d like this patch to go to the guy who blows the most shit up—Drake.”

Thumping, cheering, and Drake raised his head.

“All in favor?”

“Aye,” echoed in the room, and Jamison flipped the patch at Drake. He snatched it out of the air.

“Take your seat, bro.”

Feeling the smile take over his face, Drake moved around the table to take his new chair—a role he was ready to own.

“Church is ended. Go in peace.”

Chairs slid back and the room erupted. This time they thumped backs instead of tabletops and congratulated all. By the time they spilled into the main room, they were ready to celebrate.

Delta flew at him, face tense, and he held up his new patch. Her tension shattered, and she threw herself into his arms. Having her lush body pressed to his was the best congratulations he could ask for.

He cupped her ass and pulled her tight against his growing hardness.

“I’ll sew that on for you.”

“I’d love that, Princess.”

Copilot brushed his leg then stood close to them, tail tapping him with every wag. He reached down and gave the dog a cursory ear rub. Delta made a noise of amusement, but something was wrong.

He held her shoulders and pushed her back a little. “What is it?”

A wild light burned in her eyes, and for a moment, he didn’t think she’d be able to speak. She seemed sort of…frozen.

As she had been when he’d first found her.

He lifted his knuckles to her cheek and scuffed them over her glowing skin. She dragged in a shaky breath then caught his hand and whirled, towing him out of the main room.

When they reached their bedroom, she turned to him. “It’s about Belle. Lucky sent for her or something. Vasily was taking her to him.”

It took him a few beats to process this. “Do you have any idea why?”

“No. I’m—” She shoved her fingers through her long hair, hand shaking. Too agitated for him.

He took her to the bed and sat, bringing her onto his lap. She melted into him, and his throat closed. So much trust. Now the MC had put their trust in him too by giving him that patch. He prayed her could live up to all of this.

With a palm flat on her spine, he kissed her star tattoo. “I’ll find out why Lucky wanted her, and I’ll put an end to his wanting. I swear it, Princess.”

“I don’t know how you’re going to do all of this. He’s powerful. He’s got a lot of violent men backing him.”

“I can be more violent.”

A shiver ran through her, but instead of moving away from a man who’d confessed to being violent, she snuggled closer.

He slid his hand under her hair, letting the strands separate between his fingers. Silky soft and maddening. His need built.

“Do you trust me, Princess?”

Without pause, she said, “Yes.”

“
Really
trust me?”

She stared at him. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I want you to know how much you mean to me and I’ll always put your safety first. But I need you to help me with this deal. Just as I needed you with the Russians.”

She pushed off his knees and stood, hands braced on hips. “I’m ready.”

Her sassy stance did things to his insides. He bit off a growl. Dammit, he couldn’t take her to bed. He was an officer now, and the whole club was in the other room, partying in celebration of the changes.

Drake rubbed a hand over his face to try to break his concentration on the sexy woman inches away. “I’m not quite ready for the deal to go down yet. Let’s go join the party. But you’ve gotta promise something.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll never leave my side.”

•●•

They didn’t ride in a formation, and it worried the hell out of Delta. She bit into her lower lip and watched the van ahead of them. Too many times she’d seen the Raiders abandon their bikes for vans and SUVs that could carry bodies of their brothers away from the scene.

Drake was behind the wheel with Paxton at his side, a weapon between his knees. As they sped down the road toward the Raiders MC, she was jostled between Wrench and O’Dovey in the back seat.

A dark fear coiled in her stomach. Of going back into that MC and never coming out again. Of setting eyes on Lucky, Micky, Houlihan, and the others who’d mistreated her.

Girl wasn’t gone for good—she lived just below her skin, ready to sink to her knees or brace herself for a blow.

No, I’ll stay strong.

In the rearview mirror, Drake’s reflection was grim. Straight brows, unsmiling eyes. He glanced up and caught her looking. Amusement crinkled the edges of his eyes, and she breathed a little easier.

Almost there. Familiar landmarks rose up. The place where Fisty had played car pinball, sideswiping vehicles as he drove drunk to the market. A warehouse the Raiders frequented for gun exchanges and to receive drug shipments.

As they rounded a corner and the gates came into view, she released a slow breath. Her fingers twitched into fists, and she hid them on her lap.

O’Dovey’s big hand came down on her forearm. “We’ve got your back.”

Drake’s eyes flashed at her in the mirror, and then he was pulling right up to the gates. Two other vehicles parked and the Sons piled out. When Ace climbed out, Copilot was right behind him, head back, sniffing the air.

It had taken Ace a sharp command to get the dog in the SUV with him instead of Delta. But she knew the instant Copilot saw her, he’d be like glue. The idea made her breathe a little easier. If any Raider tried to touch her, Copilot would rip out his throat.

Drake’s eyes were steady on hers. “Ready?”

She nodded.

“Let’s do this.” As he got out of the vehicle, he placed a hand on the weapon riding along his spine. Wrench, Delta, and O’Dovey spilled out of the back seat and joined the group surrounding Drake.

Jamison flanked him, and they took off as a group, storming right up to the gates with Delta in the center.

Copilot nudged her hand, and she rubbed his nose, but she was too keyed up to allow the dog to offer much comfort. Suddenly three guards appeared, guns aimed right at them.

“Tell your prez we need to talk,” Drake called.

“What the fuck is this?”

Delta shrank at the familiar voice—Alesander. She’d hoped to never set eyes on him again.

“Just get your prez. We’re coming to negotiate.”

“Last time you came to negotiate you blew up a vehicle and stole Girl.”

Anger flared, burning as bright and hot as that car bomb. She didn’t realize she’d moved forward to stand beside Drake until he caught her arm. She ripped her arm free and rushed at the gate, propelling spit through the chain link and right into Alesander’s face. “I am not Girl. My name is Delta.”

A cheer went up behind her, and Alesander’s gaze narrowed as her spit slid down his scarred face.

“You wait until I get you inside. You’ll remember your place.”

Her insides quaked, but she stood her ground, fighting the urge to sink to her knees, to curl up and hide.

Drake’s hand on her lower back made her feel solid again. “Get your prez.”

Alesander twitched his head at Manny, and he turned and jogged toward the MC. Seconds later, half the club spilled outside, weapons drawn.

Behind her, a ripple went through the Sons, followed by safeties clicking off. She prepared herself for some kind of primitive war—side shooting at side with a fence between them.

Delta had to keep that from happening. She raised a hand and hooked her fingers in the fence. Looking into Lucky’s face caused her more turmoil than she’d admit right now. “Let us in. Peaceful negotiations.”

She had no clue if Drake intended for it to be peaceful or not. The man had strapped himself with enough fuse and chemical to blow the MC off the map, and the Sons were itching for a fight.

Lucky’s lip curled. “Well, it’s Girl. We’re very happy to see you.” He lowered his weapon. “Let them in.”

Drake was at her back as she led the Sons onto enemy turf. Several Raiders walked backward, guns trained on them in case the Sons decided to open fire and shoot them all in the backs. Delta ignored the grinning face of Alesander.

At the doors, the Raiders turned and faced them. Twenty paces away, the Sons stopped. Apparently the Raiders weren’t going to chance the Sons in their club. A hysterical laugh bubbled inside Delta, and she had to clamp her lips together.