He has the nerve to walk toward me, like he’s ready to do something stupid. “Your brother sure as hell ain’t coming back from where he is, so what exactly are you here for? If it’s blood, it won’t be mine spilling tonight.”
The sound of the gate to the compound creaking open catches their attention, causing them to shift nervously. I’m pretty sure Avalanche sent a text to Nightmare to rally everyone at the entrance. This amateur and his sorry ass crew is about to learn a harsh lesson in picking the wrong fight. Nightmare knows not to kill them, but these fuckers are in for a beat down they won’t soon forget. The tension in the air thickens as my guys flood through the gate, surrounding us. The look of ‘we’re fucked’ on Legion’s face makes the start of my evening that much sweeter. Just the kind of energy I need to get in the right headspace for getting the information I’m after tonight.
“Nightmare, make sure they get the message; never show their faces here again,” I say as the rest of the guys and I fire up our engines, ready to roll out. Over the roar, I shout to Legion, “I’d stick around for the show, but I’ve got my own business to handle. You boys enjoy your night.”
NINE
MAVERICK
The rumbleof our engines cut through the night as we hit 75 north, heading toward Chattanooga. Traffic is a little slow but we finally pull into the parking lot of the run-down motel. The flickering neon sign blinks on and off, casting an eerie glow on the cracked pavement. Becks heard us arrive, so there was no need to knock. Avalanche and Hellhound stand outside, guarding the door as me, Dementor, and Demolition cross the threshold.
The air is thick with tension, the dim lighting doing little to hide the stench of sweat and fear. The member of the Savage Knights is tied to a chair, blood crusting at the corner of his mouth. Becks worked him over real good, but he’s clearly defiant. My men stand against the wall, arms crossed, watching him like wolves ready to pounce.
The half smile on his face falters as I slowly walk towards him, making sure he feels the weight of every step. He can’t be no more than twenty, maybe twenty- five and unfortunately, his life will end here tonight before it even begins. The patch on his kutte says Prospect and I’m not sure I’ll get the information I need from him. This interrogation will test his loyalty to his club,and if he’s serious about earning his patch, he’ll fight hard to keep his mouth shut.
But, why would they send him out alone to scout and cover this side of the state? I could understand if he were a Nomad, but they had to know it’s reckless for an MC to give that kind of responsibility to a Prospect. There’s something very off here but I remain cool to make sure I don’t cut his throat too soon.
“Where’s the rest of your crew?” I ask, voice low but firm. No need for shouting just yet.
He spits blood onto the floor near my boot, meeting my gaze with a mix of fear and bravado. “I ain’t telling you shit!”
I chuckle darkly, pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of him, close enough for him to feel the heat coming off me. Becks moves back to give me some space, obviously recognizing that I’m not in the mood to play games with this motherfucker.
“You will tell me. One way or another,” I threaten, giving him a chance to make this easy. “I suggest you tell me what I want to know or things are gonna get messy,” I say, pulling my knife from its sheath. Even in the dim light, the menacing blade gleams. He shifts in his chair, struggling to keep up the tough guy act, but I can see the cracks forming. A thin line of blood appears as I press the blade against his neck, just enough to pierce the skin. Leaning in, voice dropping even lower, I snarl,
“You’re alone here and no one’s coming to save you. So I’m gonna ask you one more time, nice and simple, where are the rest of your fucking brothers?” Silence hangs between us for a moment, then his eyes flicker, just enough to tell me he’s mulling things over as if he has options. When you're staring down torture or a quick death, there's not much to consider.
My threat alone should have him spilling everything, but for some reason, he’s holding out. Seconds pass and I’m quickly losing my patience. A weird feeling comes over me as a cellphone on the bed rings, cutting through the silence. Demolition grabsit, relaying that it reads ‘Prez’ on the screen. Taking the phone, I answer the call, my knife pressing into the Prospects neck a little deeper, letting him know to keep his mouth shut.
“This is Maverick,” I seethe, ready to go the fuck off on whoever it is playing games with me.
A low mocking voice creeps through the line, slow and deliberate, sending a chill through my veins with his words.
“You should really keep the curtains closed at your house, Maverick. Just because you live in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean there isn’t danger lurking in the shadows.”
Fire replaces ice, coursing through me like a runaway train that crashes into my chest. The realization hits me; it’s Fury, president of the Savage Knights, the motherfucker who’s been searching for my wife. This was all a setup. A distraction to pull me away from Ember so he could get to her.
“You know,” the voice continues, almost casually, “Emberlynne sure has grown up to be a very sexy woman. She looks real peaceful from here. Sitting there with her friend without a care in the world.”
I grip the phone tighter, my pulse pounding in my ears. Everything around me goes black as raw anger takes over. Jabbing my knife through the Prospect’s neck, I slowly drag it from one ear to the other, life immediately draining from his body. The curdling sound echoes through the small space as he chokes on his own blood.
“If you touch her…”
“Oh, I’ll do more than touch her and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ve been watching you Maverick, and you made a mistake believing you were untouchable. I waited patiently for the right time and because you keep leaving your precious wife alone, I’ve been several steps ahead of you and Elijah this entire time.”
“What the fuck do you want?!” I grit out as the room begins to spin. Warm, thick blood runs over my hand as I twist and turn the knife, imagining it’s this asshole on the phone instead of his useless Prospect. Rage builds as my heart churns violently inside of my chest, and for the first time in my life I feel helpless.
“You’re not in a position to ask questions, motherfucker,” he sneers. “But, maybe we’ll wait for you so I can show you a little game that Ember and I used to play. How fast can you get here?”
“When I find you, you’ll regret touching what’s mine,” I scowl, but there’s no answer. The silence is suffocating as the line goes dead. My world shatters in an instant. The thought of Ember hurt or worse, floods my mind, threatening to break me completely. Heart pounding, I grab my phone and pull up the app for the house cameras. My stomach drops. Every feed is offline. Panic surges through me as I frantically dial Ember’s number, my hands shaking.
“Hey, baby! I was just thinking about you. Let me head to the bedroom so we can talk,” she beams, her usual excitement shining through.
“Ember, listen to me!” I cut her off, my voice tight with urgency. “You don’t have much time. Grab Londyn and get out of the house, now!”
“What? Wait, what’s going on?” she stammers, the confusion and fear creeping into her voice. “Why do I need to leave?”
“There’s no time to explain, just do as I say and get out now!” I bark, already motioning for my guys to move as I head outside. Dementor knows to stay behind and take out the trash. Putting the phone on speaker for my men to listen in, I’m just about to mount my bike, when a loud crash splits the air, followed by frantic screaming.
