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Rage detailed the skirmishes and sabotage we’d suffered at the hands of the Seville Slayers under Riptide’s orders. “He’s had his crew vandalize our property, spread lies about our members, and even tried to poach our prospects, telling them they’re wasting their time with a ‘girls’ club’.”
The anger simmering within me began to boil. Unfortunately, the Hudson I knew, the bully at least, seemed just like the man Rage described.
“He’s undermined our deals, too,” she added. “Badmouthing us to our allies and suppliers, trying to isolate us. And he’s not above using violence. A couple of our runs have been ambushed. Honestly, I’ve always feared what happened last night. That he’d end up at the Roost threatening to kill someone.”
Hearing about the extent of Riptide’s ruthlessness, the deliberate actions taken to weaken and ridicule us, didn’t surprise me. “Why would he hold back with me then?” I found myself asking, the puzzle pieces not quite fitting together. “If he’s so convinced we’re nothing, why not just pull the trigger?”
Rage shrugged, her expression somber. “Maybe there’s a part of him that hesitated because of your past. Or maybe he’s playing a longer game. With Riptide, it’s hard to say. But don’t underestimate him, Brat. He’s dangerous, and now it’s personal between you two.”
As I was more than ready to leave the heavy atmosphere of Rage’s office behind, she dropped a bombshell that stopped me cold. “There’s something else you should know,” Rage said, her voice more subdued than before. “Riptide… he was here this morning.”
I turned sharply, confusion and a hint of betrayal flashing through me. “Here? Why didn’t you—”
She held up a hand, signaling me to let her finish. “He came asking permission to question you and the others about the motel incident. I gave him that permission.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice even, to not let the hurt and surprise completely take over.
Rage’s eyes met mine, steady and unflinching. “Because we have nothing to hide, Brat. And because it’s important, he understands we refuse to be bullied or intimidated. He needs to see that we can stand up for ourselves with no need for me to step in and protect my girls every time there’s a hint of trouble.”
The logic was sound, and yet it stung. Hudson would question me, and I didn’t know if I was ready.
“Be careful, though,” she continued, a touch of the protective leader bleeding through her controlled exterior. “I trust you to handle yourself, but Riptide… he’s unpredictable. Let me know if anything happens. I mean it, Brat. Anything at all.”
Absorbing her words, I nodded. Rage was counting on me, but also cautioning me. “I understand,” I said, finding a semblance of resolve amidst the whirlwind of emotions. “And I appreciate the trust, Rage. I won’t let you down.”
Her nod was curt, a silent acknowledgment of our understanding. “I know you won’t. Just… be careful with him. He’s not the Hudson you remember.”
Leaving the office, the revelation that Rage had spoken to Riptide, granting him access to probe into our affairs, added an extra layer of complexity to the situation. It was a strategic move, one that placed trust in us to handle our own battles, yet it left me with a sense of unease.
Rage’s advice lingered in my mind as I stepped back into the fray of the clubhouse, the reality of the situation settling in. Riptide’s shadow loomed larger than ever, a sign of the challenges ahead. But her warning also reinforced the bond that held the Hell on Heelz together, a bond of trust, strength, and unwavering support. With that in my heart, I still didn’t feel ready to face Riptide and our past.
Chapter 5
Riptide
Rolling into the Roost that day, my nerves were shot, probably jacked on adrenaline. The joint had its similarities to our pad, boasting a pool table, a beat-up jukebox, and a corner arcade. But here, they rocked a Ms. Pacman, while we had the classic Pacman, a nod to the old school. The place was massive, decked out in pine, giving off some serious hunting lodge vibes.
But, man, the setup was a trip. They had this massive stuffed grizzly decked out in a bikini, towering in one corner, and a squirrel perched behind the bar, donning a gun belt and a tiny cowboy hat.
I was half looking, half hoping to spot Brat, her fiery hair a beacon. Yet, she was MIA. The crowd split around me, treating me like I had the plague or something.
Reaching Rage’s office, my cool was fraying. I barged in, and there she was, Hell on Heelz’s head honcho. With her jet-black hair and eyes sharp as knives, Rage was nothing short of intimidating.
“I need straight talk, Rage,” I pushed, my anger bubbling up. “We ain’t letting Viper’s death slide into the background.”
Her comeback was icy, cutting deep. “Fuck off, Riptide,” Rage snapped, her voice dripping with defiance. “Your mess ain’t my concern.”
I wasn’t about to back down. “Those chicks who were with Viper at the hotel, they’ve got info. I want them grilled.”
Rage, arms crossed, gave in a bit. “Fine, I’ll have a word with them.”
But I was adamant. “Nah, my crew will do the questioning,” I insisted, aiming to get face time with Star.
Rage wasn’t having any of it, shaking her head in refusal.
“What’s got you scared, Rage?”
Her eyes turned to slits, sizing me up. After a charged silence, she gave a grudging nod, “Alright. My women can stand up to your guys. But listen good, if any of your lot touches them, I’ll have your balls.”
