Vipers Run (15 page)

The ride Cage was supposed to take with Preacher the night after he'd arrived back in Skulls had been pushed off until things were calmer.

Unfortunately, losing the detectives' tail took a bit of work, but they were able to use all of their very distinctive bikes to throw them off track. Rocco and Tals headed in the opposite direction—on Preacher's and Cage's bikes—while Cage rode Tals's bike and followed behind Preacher on Rocco's Harley. It was just like the first time he'd ridden behind the head of Vipers, wondering if Preacher was bringing him into the woods to kill him.

He'd been sixteen. That's how fucked up his life had been. That's how he'd thought, even after so many years of Preacher paying for his school, his clothes, his life.

That night, Preacher had given him a probie cut. “Nothing will change if you don't put it on, Cage. You'll still have my support—financially and otherwise—until you're eighteen. After that, the financial shit stops but nothing else does.”

He'd stared at the cut for half a second before nodding and letting Preacher help him shrug it on. Because he believed in Preacher, and the Vipers. And he believed in the MC life, since that was all he'd known.

He'd followed Preacher's example, had gone into the Army and done his time. Between Preacher and the Army, he'd become the man he wanted to be. The man he'd need to be to shoulder the responsibilities of being second in command of Vipers, which was where Preacher told Cage he ultimately wanted him. For now, Tals was filling that role, and Tals himself told Cage he didn't want it. Ultimately, Tals would be a much better enforcer, and he'd enjoy that job far more.

Before he could accept that, though, he had to take down his family. And now, it was finally time. “I should've been honest with you about going rogue. But after that fight . . . when we lost Cal and Marsh I . . .”

Jesus, he didn't want to go back there. A night of celebrating, of being back in his element, the
Vipers all around him, all shot to shit in an instant. A single Molotov cocktail flung through the window of the bar. He remembered the screaming, the choking smoke. He and Tals and Preacher easily made it to the doors, opening them to let people and smoke out . . .

Right into the arms of the waiting Heathens. And Cal and Marsh had taken the brunt of it.

“I know, Cage.”

“What do you know, Preach? That if it hadn't been for my return, those guys would be alive? The bar wouldn't have been destroyed? Women wouldn't have been scarred and terrified?”

“Taking the weight of it all on your shoulders isn't smart, Cage. The Heathens want to bring us down—you're a convenient excuse.”

“You can't tell me there wasn't a vote called after that,” he said.

“Is that why you left?”

“I didn't want to make any of you choose. If I thought I could let go of the cut, I would've. But that's something I'd never do.”

The men stared at each other as Cage bared his goddamned soul to Preacher.

“Fine. I can understand that. But you still could've asked for our help in this, even though you were rogue.” Preacher crossed his arms and stared him down, and goddamn, the man still
had the power to make him feel ten again. “Why didn't you?”

“It's not your fucking responsibility.”

Preacher nodded. “Never said it was, but maybe I'd want to help.”

“Not your battle. You've done enough for me. More than enough. I couldn't ask—”

“You could've. You should've. But since you didn't, I've gone ahead and started working toward it. Guessing you'd like to help.”

Cage's head shot up. “Don't get involved, Preach. If something happened to you or the club again—”

“Something will happen. Something is happening, Cage. Can't keep the meth out of Skulls on a wing and a prayer. You saw those men the other night—they might've followed you and Tals into Skulls, but Tals isn't stupid. He recognized them. They're the ones working with the Heathens to push the meth in here, to scare the shit out of the residents and the cops, so no one says a word. We've got to do some major damage control. Now.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Follow me.” Preacher walked a few feet, then moved behind some trees and pointed. “Go lift the trap door. Disarm it first.”

“Are there cameras?”

“Waiting for you to tell me, Army guy.”

“Fuck off,” he muttered, since Preacher was one himself. “What the fuck is this?”

“Drug tunnel,” Preacher said. “Now you know why I needed the C-4.”

“I know they dig this shit in California, but here?”

“They're getting smarter.”

“If they're so smart, how'd you find out about these?”

Preacher smiled. “You know what they say about a woman scorned.”

“One of the Heathens women told you this?”

“Troy's old lady.”

“You slept with my brother's wife?”

Preacher shrugged. “Whatever it takes. She needed a shoulder. And revenge. And I got her the hell out of Dodge. She's safe, hidden, and she'll get clean.”

Goddammit, Preacher always knew how to pull it out of the fire for me.
“When?”

“When I left you in the hospital.”

“I thought you were just pissed.”

“I was. If you hadn't been in such bad shape, I'd have beaten the shit out of you myself.” Preacher pointed at him. “I waited for you—I could've done this months ago, but I fucking waited for you, kid.”

Kid
. Shit. Cage forced himself not to smile.

Taking out the tunnel was step one in dismantling the Heathens' power. Cage's father and his brother were too well protected for him to take out. He'd seen that himself and wore the scars to prove it.

Because he'd gone it alone. And even the baddest of assassins had some kind of backup.

When he was in basic, he'd learned that no man is an island. And he'd known that in his brotherhood, but he'd forgotten it along the way.

But he'd gotten one hell of a reminder.

Now he set the C-4 with the igniters and waited. Because he and Preacher didn't want to take out the Heathens who'd come to patrol the drug tunnel. No, he was planning on framing them.

There were neighbors close enough to hear the explosion but not be hurt by it. No innocents would be harmed by this—it wouldn't make up for all the people the Heathens had already hurt, but it was a start.

Hitting the Heathens where it would hurt them most would anger the MC and put their relationships with the connections they sold the drugs through in disrepair.

It looked like they'd gone from just making it themselves to buying it in larger quantities. Or maybe they were doing both, but either way the
fact that they'd needed a tunnel made Cage think that more than just meth would be coming in.

“Think Havoc knows about this?” he asked Preach. Because even though their compound was hours away, they owned this stretch of land, although why was anyone's guess.

“Back end of their land, so I'm guessing no, or they would've taken care of it a long time ago.” Preacher ran a hand over his shaved scalp. “Then again, who the fuck knows if they're in on this? I'm thinking that not giving them a heads-up is the best idea.”

“Agreed.” It was time to start dismantling the Heathens from the head down, and a war with Havoc wasn't something any of them wanted. “Ready when you are, Preach.”

“I've been ready for this since you were ten, Cage.”

Cage ignored the tightness in his throat as he pressed the button and watched the tunnel blow sky
high.

The night passed quickly, thanks to a constant stream of men and women, all hoping to get a glimpse of one of the Vipers. But tonight, no one with the familiar patch on their cut came in. I got looks from men, sneers from some of the women, but it was fine, especially because Holly wasn't there the whole night.

She'd gotten quiet at some point after being the life of the shop for a couple of hours, calling out to people as she tattooed a man's shoulder. And then the wisecracks were gone and then she was gone. She'd left me with a woman named Gigi, who was in the back now, counting up one of the registers while I finished taking the last of the money from the young girl who'd come in and given a deposit.

I scheduled the appointment, but I could tell she would back out.

“I'm almost done, Calla. Then we'll go to the clubhouse,” Gigi called. My heart sank, because I'd managed to forget about that for a while.

I was just about to go lock the door when the bells on the door jingled and I looked up to see a teenage boy wearing a leather cut with a probie patch.

“Where's Cage?” he asked. I stared at the patch and then at him as alarm bells went off in my head. He was young, sure, maybe sixteen at most, but he was also a Heathen.

“He's not here. You can check next door.” I tried to sound casual.

“Not going into a Vipers clubhouse.” He pointed to the Heathen patch. “Can you call over for me?”

I glanced down at the phone and back up at him, the confusion no doubt obvious in my eyes.

“You're new,” he said.

“Very.”

I held my breath until he said, “I'm Eli. Cage's brother.”

Eli, not Troy. “Oh. Oh, okay. Is he expecting you?”

“Definitely not.” He paused and looked at me, but I didn't see any kind of connection there, and maybe he didn't know that the Heathens had me on some kind of hit list. “You Cage's old lady?”

“We're friends.”

He put his tongue in his cheek and pushed it out. “Cage doesn't have women friends.”

“Maybe you don't know him all that well.”

He smiled, the way only a teenage boy could when the devil was at his door. And then he said, “I'm in some trouble. He said I could come to him, but I lost his phone number.”

“He'll be back soon.” In truth, I'd debated pulling out the cell phone to call him, but I decided that I liked Eli's vibe and didn't have anything to worry about. Although I really didn't understand the Heathen thing. Unless . . .

I pointed to his jacket. He looked at the patch and back at me.

“I'm not going to hurt you. I really just want to talk to Cage.” He glanced behind him. “You want me to lock this up?”

Gigi called, “A few more minutes, Calla, and then Rocco's coming to grab us!”

Okay, that was good. Although it made Eli tense up. “Yeah, just hit the lock, okay? I'll talk to Gigi about letting you hang out here until Cage comes back.”

I should've been bone tired, but I was buzzing. Maybe I'd crash soon, but for the moment I was just fine.

And really, I should never say or think
anything like that and tempt the universe, because shit went to hell in the next few moments.

“Yeah, that'll work. Gonna hit the head.” Eli went to use the bathroom and I was about to go talk to Gigi when the glass door shattered inward. I ducked behind the counter to avoid the flying glass.

There was a bat. I held it in my palms, wondering if I should get up or not.

In the end, that choice wasn't mine. Someone grabbed the back of my shirt and dragged me up, but since the counter was between us, the hold was awkward. I managed to pull away, my shirt nearly ripped off in the process. I held one hand to my chest, the other firmly curled around the bat as I focused on the leather-wearing Heathens in front of me.

My first thought was that Eli had somehow played me, but I dismissed that quickly. My instincts had been sharpened since I'd let Jeffrey Harris take advantage of me.

“Where's Cage?” one of them demanded.

I found my voice. “You could've just knocked.”

The biker grinned, but it wasn't friendly. It was predatory, and I chilled. “Come here, sweetheart.”

I held up the bat. He held up a gun, and I froze. And that's when gorgeous Holly came in, swinging a shotgun wildly. She was distracting enough
in just a T-shirt and striped barely there underwear, her hair as wild as the look in her eyes.

“Get the fuck out of here,” she said in her clipped British tones. She sounded so proper even when she was cursing, and for a moment it almost worked. The Heathens blinked at her; then the biggest one smiled and stepped forward, still holding his gun as he went to grab Holly.

Holly walked toward him and fired. It hit the big Heathen in the thigh and he howled in pain. She shot again, toward the other men, who cursed, grabbed their friend and dragged him backward through the shattered glass of the door.

Everything after that happened so fast. I unfroze, because Holly buckled to the ground, holding the shotgun and rocking a little. Eli came out and cursed and told me, “Gotta get out of here before the cops come.”

I thought he was talking about himself, but he pointed to Holly and me. “I'll take care of some of this—get her to the back.”

While he killed the lights, I bent down as sirens rang in the distance and focused on Holly. “Holly, listen to me.” Holly's eyes were vacant as she looked at me. “Holly, we've got to get out of here. Just give me the gun.”

But Eli was pulling it from her hands instead. “I'll get rid of it and the carpet. Get out of here.”

The idea of handing a scene-of-the-crime shotgun to a teenager went against everything I'd ever known, but I did it anyway. “Holly, come on.”

I pulled her up and the three of us went out the back, grabbing Gigi, who seemed to be in shock as well, and locking the door as we did. Eli disappeared into the woods and Holly and I went through the alley silently and into the clubhouse. Once inside, I looked her over. She had blood splattered on her shirt. I ripped it off her as Bear came out and said, “All right. A show.”

“Police are after her,” I snapped. “She shot a Heathen. Alarms are going off next door.”

Rocco was next to me, demanding, “Why didn't you press the alarm?”

“I didn't know there was one,” I told him. Holly mumbled something. “And Cage's brother's getting rid of the gun.”

“Cage's brother?” Rocco repeated as he grabbed the T-shirt and lit it on fire.

There was a knock on the back door. “That's him.”

“He can't come in here,” Bear protested, but I was beyond listening. I let him in and Bear went from angry to relaxed in seconds. “Hey, Eli.”

Eli stood in the doorway. “I got rid of it.”

“Good job, kid,” Rocco told him.

“Not a fucking kid.”

“Right. No. Come on—I've got an idea.” Rocco motioned for him to come inside, and after a long moment's hesitation, Eli did. “Go wait in Cage's space, all right? Take Holly.”

Eli led the tall woman by the elbow. She turned around toward me before she allowed that, though, and she squeezed my hand.

* * *

Halfway through the demo of the tunnel, several Heathens came charging up the hill.

“Better than Havoc,” Preacher muttered to himself as he drew his knife with the pearl handle, the one rumored to have come from the founder of the club. The knife he'd taken by force from the last president of Vipers nearly twenty years earlier, when he'd had enough of the man's shit.

The knife he'd killed the man with, in the middle of the clubhouse, and left him lying in the middle of the floor, daring any of the others to step forward and fuck with him.

A balls-to-the-wall move—one he'd been too young and stupid to even consider not trying. Impetuousness had served him well back then. These days, he believed thinking things through was a man's best friend.

Back then, a few of the guys had come forward to challenge him. They were no longer in the club, but he'd left them among the living. But the
former president . . . after what he'd done to a woman, the daughter of a member, there was no way Preacher could look in his face daily or pretend to take orders from him.

You didn't fuck with women or children. That was a rule he drilled into his MC members' heads. The Heathens didn't live by those rules, and because of that, he had no problem at all taking their lives.

Cage came over to him and looked at the dead bodies at Preacher's feet. Three bodies in all, but one of them was moving.

“I'd have called if I couldn't handle it. Go back to your explosions,” Preacher told him.

Cage just shook his head and left, muttering something about crazy motherfuckers.

* * *

An hour later, they'd buried the two Heathens and blown the drug tunnel to the sky. Cage and Preacher left the other Heathen handcuffed to his own bike, C-4 in his pockets and the remains of the tunnel next to them.

It wouldn't take care of his father and Troy—not immediately. But the fallout would throw enough suspicion on the Heathens to keep them busy for a while. It would also deplete their drug supply, and their cash flow. And hopefully, make them several more enemies.

All in all, a good night. Until he saw the flashing lights two blocks before he and Preach got to the clubhouse and pulled over. They checked their phones and saw the alarms—Cage realized they'd been out of range.

Preacher dialed, a hand on his shoulder to keep him from bolting, because Calla was the first thought in his mind.

“Started in the tattoo shop? What the fuck?” Preacher growled, then hung up and made a few more calls, cementing their alibi for the night before they drove past the shop and into the clubhouse.

Of course, the goddamned police chief was only too happy to see them.

“Looks like a brick was thrown in the window. Seems like the shop was closed at the time. We're just being extra cautious.”

“And I certainly appreciate that, Officer,” Preacher told him as Cage slid into the clubhouse, his heart pounding out of his chest. Bear pointed and he took the stairs two at a time, slammed the bedroom door open and found Calla, pale but unharmed, sitting on the bed. She'd been curled up and started when he'd burst in, but she met him halfway. He scooped her up in his arms and just held her close. She was trembling but holding him tightly.

“Babe, what the hell . . . ?”

“I didn't want to worry you. I know you said emergency, but by the time it became one . . .” She trailed off, shook her head.

The creak of the floor behind him made him turn, ready to strangle the next person who came near him. He hadn't been prepared to see his stepbrother.

“Hey, Cage.”

“Eli, what's going on?” The fact that he was even in the clubhouse meant something was completely fucked.

“He saved me and Holly. Well, Holly saved us and then Eli protected us from the police,” Calla explained, her voice strong enough to make him believe she was okay. He looked between them and saw an understanding had blossomed between his woman and his brother, and that a bond had already begun to form. Life and death would do that to you.

“Is that true, Eli?”

Eli nodded, but he looked troubled. “She wouldn't have needed saving if I hadn't fucked up in the first place.”

“Eli, no,” Calla started, but Cage put a hand on her shoulder and motioned for Eli to continue.

“They followed me here. They had to. I thought I was being slick but . . .”

He looked miserable.

“Why'd you come here in the first place?” Cage asked.

Eli shrugged.

“I think you two need some time alone. I'll go check on Holly.” Calla touched his back and then Eli's arm on the way out. Her look implored Cage to go easy on him, and Cage would. He just wouldn't let Eli know that.

* * *

Cage watched Calla move from the main section of the clubhouse before he said to Eli, “You know how many times I've reached out to you?”

Eli shrugged. Now the kid was going to pull the cool act.

“Does your mom know you're here?”

“Doubt it.” He paused. “I spent the past week at clubhouse.”

Cage almost growled out loud. Eli's mother had promised that Eli would spend minimal time at the clubhouse. Eli had seen Cage as the enemy before this. Cage saw a scared kid behind the teenager in the probie cut, forced to be a man too soon.

“Why?” he demanded harshly. More so than he'd intended.

Eli's jaw tightened. “I was moving there permanently, at Dad's request.”

“Dammit, you were supposed to stay . . .”

“Like you did? You left.”

“Eli—”

“Heard it before.”

“You'll hear it again.”

Eli turned away from him and Tals stuck his head in. “Cage—a moment?”

Cage said to Eli's back, “We're not done,” and the boy just grunted.

“Way to parent,” Tals told him.

“Like you could do better?”

“Mommy Dearest could've,” Tals informed him seriously. “Take a step back. He finally did what you wanted—he came here. Don't push him back out the door.”

* * *

Holly was already asleep, helped along by whatever meds Rocco had given her before he and Bear took the bullet out of her thigh. I'd heard her moaning, and it had been a struggle to stay out of the room myself. Once Preacher arrived, he seemed to have that same struggle.

Rocco said he'd stay with her overnight at the clubhouse, but then Preacher said Rocco should drive us home and that he'd stay. That got a raised eyebrow from both Tals and Rocco, but I didn't question them. Tals quickly decided he would stay to stand guard, in case the Heathens tried to
come back. Rocco drove me and Cage and Eli back to the apartment. Once Cage got Eli settled in, he came back to where I waited, by the windows.