I’d never been so certain of anything in my whole damned life.
“He don’t deserve to fuckin’ breathe after what he’s done, and if Hardy won’t get me my revenge then I’ll get it for myself.”
Fighter nodded. “This is going to cause some shit for the club. You know that, right?”
I looked down at the gun in my hand, waiting for something to change my mind, but nothing did. If anything, staring down at the gun and feeling its weight in my hand solidified my resolve on the matter.
“I know, brother,” I finally replied, “and I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me, but he needs to pay.” I looked at Gauge, expecting him to disagree—the man was the sergeant at arms of the Devil’s Highwaymen; this was going to cause serious trouble for us all. “You got nothing to say?”
“I’ll keep them off your back for as long as I can,” he replied darkly. “Shit’s going on in this club and I need to be here to see it through. This club and these men are everything to me. They’re all I’ve got, and I’m not ready to let it all burn. But I’ve got your back for as long as you need it, know that,” he said with a nod. He reached out his hand and I took it, shaking it once. “You do what you need to do and I’ll keep your path clear.”
“Appreciate that,” I said, and turned to leave.
“Battle?” Gracie called my name and I glanced back at her.
“What?”
“Tell her I’m sorry, please,” she said, her voice shaking. “And tell her I love her.”
“You can tell her yourself when I bring her home,” I replied.
I left the house and headed straight to my bike, knowing that I likely wouldn’t ever be coming back that way. I was riding away from everyone I loved and everything I knew—my club, my brothers, my life—but there was no doubt in my mind that it was worth it. That she was worth it.
I had money saved. Lots of fucking money. Never had anything to spend that shit on so it was all just sitting in an account waiting for me, so I knew I could take care of us, but it was still going to be hard riding away from that life.
I sat on my bike and grabbed my helmet, turning to look as Fighter got on his bike. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“You really doing this?” he asked.
I nodded. “Quinn’s mine, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to keep her from me. It’s just the way it is, whether I like it or not. And Ripped almost killing me and my club not doing shit about it…” I shook my head. “That ain’t right, so I’m gonna make it right. Blood for blood. One way or another, one of us is going to die today.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“I might not be able to come back, Fighter. The backlash of this is gonna be too big—that is if I don’t get caught. And I think we know what will happen if I’m caught.”
He leaned over and patted me on the shoulder. “Brothers for life.”
He held my stare and I reached over and gripped his shoulder. “And my life for my brothers.”
Fighter had been with me since the beginning. We’d prospected together, patched together, smoked together, fucked together, and now we might die together.
I smiled and pulled my helmet on.
No. Neither of us were going to die today. Fuck that noise.
I knew in my heart that life had other plans for me and Fighter, and dying wasn’t one of them. At least not yet.
~ 21 ~
Quinn
Ripped was drunk. Drunk off his ass, face numb, words-slurring drunk. I hated him when he was like that.
Most days we had moved past what had happened up in Georgia and were just like we used to be—barring the scars I bore on my heart, at least—but when he was like this all bets were out the window. He’d tell me constantly how much I’d hurt him, how much I owed him, and remind me how thankful I should be for his kindness.
Thankful? I was rarely thankful for anything anymore.
“You want another drink, honey?” one of the girls at the club, Poppy, asked.
