Page 32 of Sweet Revenge for the Bikers

Outlaw grabs the guy by his hair and holds his head in place while he swings back the knife and drives it straight toward the underside of Killjoy’s jaw. His control is perfect, stopping with the tip buried in soft flesh but before any serious damage is done.

An unpleasant, rotten-earth scent floods the air. Aw, fuck. I hope it’s a good tarp.

“Rocco told us to keep an eye out for the girl! We weren’t going to kill her, just take her back to the club. I swear to fucking God I don’t know who shot your guy. Rumor at the club is that your man shot Red, and maybe Red got off a shot back.”

“Fuck,” Outlaw grunts. He rummages through his goodie bag, pulls out a bottle of water and a roll of duct tape. He squeezes open Killjoy’s mouth. “Drink. It’s a long fucking ride and there’s no AC in the back.”

More water gets on him than in him, but it’s enough to keep him going. Outlaw shoves the gag back in and slaps tape over it.

“You think it’s a good idea to take him back?” I ask.

“I think we already have one message we can send.” He points to the body. “So for the moment a hostage feels more useful than a second corpse.”

We wrap the body up in the tarp and haul it into the van. Outlaw pulls out a paper with the Screaming Eagles logo front and center. He tapes it to the tarp. When it’s Killjoy’s turn, he gets his head covered in a pillowcase and a shiny new set of handcuffs that will keep him in place in the back. He smells like shit, literally.

“Did you at least get to work out some of the aggression?”

“A little.” Outlaw’s laugh sounds tired as fuck. “I almost took him out just to see if it felt any better, but that wouldn’t get Lightning off the ventilator, or help Harper sleep at night.”

Melody flashes through my mind. Rebel filled me in on what happened. She’s our responsibility for now, and I’m already feeling the weight of it. How much worse is it for Outlaw and his guys?

“How’s Eagle-eye gonna feel about this?”

“We talked about some of the possibilities before I left. He’s the one who suggested dumping the first guy in their territory. We need to get the Devil’s Brigade to take us seriously, and I’m pretty sure this is gonna fucking wake them up. This kinda shit can’t go without a response even if it turns out to be a rogue member covering their tracks.”

I nod at that. When you don’t answer to the law or society’s norms, the rules of the MC are sacrosanct. Without some sort of system, we’re all fucked.

I follow the van on my bike. From here it doesn’t take long before we’re right in front of the Devil’s Brigade clubhouse. By the time their guards take notice, I’m off my bike and into the back of the van. I roll the body out onto the ground.

“What the fuck?” someone yells from behind their gate.

I hit the throttle and wave. “Have a nice fucking day!”

17

MELODY

Emily opens the door. She takes one look at me and turns around. “Come in, I want to make sure the cut is healing okay.”

I look back. Rebel is behind me alongside Hero, one of Emily’s men. He nods. Ow. I wasn’t sure what kind of welcome I was expecting, but I feel like she deserves a face-to-face apology. The men stay by the front door as Emily leads me into the house.

Nobody else seems to be home. That makes sense. They probably don’t trust me around the kids.

But we aren’t alone. Sitting at her kitchen table is a long-haired blonde woman who doesn’t look like she’s slept in days. Her blue eyes are ringed with red, with purple bags underneath. She looks like she’s been crying, but when I come in, her eyes turn razor-sharp.

“So this is the girl I’ve heard so much about.”

Emily sighs. “Harper, this is Melody. Melody, meet Harper. She’s Lightning’s old lady.”

I think I knew from the moment I saw her, but hearing it confirmed makes me want to crawl right back out the door and hide. But I don’t.

“Hi,” I say quietly. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

Harper looks at Emily. “She’s so young.”

“I told you, but she’s older than I was. Sit down, Melody.” Emily gestures to one of the chairs.

I sit like it’s the last free spot in a game of life or death musical chairs. If there’s any chance of making Emily not hate me, I’ll take it.