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Kai points a finger at him. “Next time I see you, you’d better apologize, you little fucker, or I will break every bone in that skinny body of yours.”
We walk away.
The tension is palpable. The air is dry and hot, but nothing burns as much as the sense of having accomplished absolutely nothing today. I’d hoped the surviving clubs would be desperate enough to understand that working with us is the only way forward, but if they choose to go down in flames, I can’t stop them.
For many of these people, pride and honor supersede everything, including their own lives. We cannot save those who do not wish to be saved, but we can still protect our club, though it’ll be harder with fewer fighters on our side. We’re vulnerable now, especially after the clubhouse shooting. And we all know that Colton is preparing something far bigger and far worse, especially since we put twelve of his men in body bags. I don’t know what kind of PR stunt that was supposed to be, but I do know we won’t tolerate anything else that he brings to our door.
“That fucker will die, I promise,” Kai says as we get back on our bikes and cautiously look around.
There’s always a chance of catching a tail wherever we go. Colton’s people are likely watching us, hidden somewhere, ever ready to kick their gears into motion and maybe even finish what they started at the clubhouse.
If they kill the Blackthorn Riders’ leadership, it’ll be easier to ascend to that so-called throne, to pull all the strings and call all the shots across Southern California. The other clubs will follow him, and then it’ll be infinitely harder for that RICO operation to achieve its desired results.
A lot seems to hinge on our very survival.
“I’ll put him in the ground myself,” Kai adds and puts his helmet on.
“Let’s live to see that day first,” I reply, then give Orion a curious look. “Where to next, hoss?”
“We should try the Wolves again,” Orion shrugs. “Maybe that FBI raid of their stash house two nights ago finally smacked some sense into them. It’s worth a shot.”
Chances are we’ll get rejected. I bet there isn’t a single club willing to work with us at this point. But we’re going to have to deal with it and keep forging our own path. I only pray that we survive. I miss Nadia more than anything. I just want all of this to be over so we can go back to her, so we can figure out how and if we’re going to make it work.
22
Nadia
I feel like a mouse in a trap.
My father’s private security detail guards every door to this house. I can’t even go out into the garden without one of them shadowing me. It’s not like I can jump over the fence. I’m too tired and sluggish. The stress of the clubhouse shooting has finally gotten to me, along with the seemingly endless sadness of not being able to be with Orion, Kai, and Drake.
I’m pregnant and vulnerable. The last thing they need is a target like me in their midst, especially if Colton strikes again. I need to be careful. I need to put my safety first. Mine and my babies.
It was weird and scary enough to have one bun in the oven that I hadn’t planned. But two? Holy hell, how will I do it? My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the club, but he can’t keep me away from them forever. And if they do survive—God, the mere thought of losing them sends knives through my heart—how the hell am I going to tell them?
I’ve tried being civil to my father in the past few days. I’ve resisted answering any of Drake, Kai, and Orion’s text messages despite the constant itch in my fingers. There are moments when my loneliness becomes unbearable until I remember the two nuggets of life currently developing in my womb. I’m not really alone anymore, am I?
As evening falls, I settle in the living room, blankly staring at the TV. I’m not really sure what I’m watching. My mind keeps wandering back to the guys, to the moments we had together. I miss the sensation of the world dissolving around us, of our bodies and souls orbiting around one another in perfect synchronicity. I found peace in their arms. I found a different and better future. I had ideas and new ambitions, exciting projects to work toward.
What do I have now?
A broken heart, two babies on the way, and constant fear for my life.
“I’m home,” Dad announces as he comes through the front door.
He finds me in the living room, and as soon as I see him, I realize he’s had a rather rough day. The top buttons of his shirt are open, his tie is nowhere to be found, and his jacket is creased. I’ve seen this look before, perhaps one too many times, yet it still makes my stomach churn. “What happened?” I ask, sinking further into the sofa.
“Spent half the day talking to the Feds,” he scoffs and runs his fingers through his white-blonde hair before he walks over to the minibar and pours himself a double scotch. “Your boys have really done it this time.”
“My boys?”
“You know precisely who I’m talking about,” he snaps.
“Well, technically, they’re men. Physically and emotionally mature men. But okay, I’ll let that slide, you’ve earned your free pass… What were you discussing with the Feds?”
“Their collaboration with the Blackthorn Riders,” he answers. “And whether I’d be willing to assist. Give them information, any knowledge of any member’s priors. It’s filthy. It’s a filthy thing to do, but I will help them. I will collaborate with every federal agency in this fucking country if that’s what it takes to protect you, Nadia.”
“I appreciate it, Dad, but I still don’t like you keeping me under house arrest.” I shoot back. “But, you know what? It’s more than you ever did for Mom, so kudos to you.”
