I barely even breathe when that same sack is shoved over mine and I’m plunged into blackness.
I don’t give them the fear that they so desperately want, that they’ll feed off of. I don’t give them so much as a breathas I’m marched, blindly, through the spa, out into the harsh humidity that hits me with wet, clinging force, the second we’re paraded out the door.
Only when I’m lifted and thumped down roughly on what I already know is a bike, do I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from crying out.
And it’s only when the roar of that bike thunders to life and I know it won’t be heard, do I let out a small breathless gasp of pain, rage, and fear.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Edge
Inever thought I’d see the day my former club brother crashes through the front door of my house, splintering the damn thing clean off the hinges.
Steel storms through the place like a hurricane. I’m so fucking shocked that I don’t even have time to stand the fuck up off the couch before he’s on me, hauling me up by my shirt and shoulders.
I see the first blow coming and duck, because I’m sure as shit not gonna stand there and take this bullshit anymore. I’m fucking done with this. With all of it. If Steel wants a punching bag, he can go to the goddamn gym and work off his aggression.
“You goddamn fucking rat!” Steel yells in my face.
Even with basically only one good eye, the other blurred and foggy as shit, I can see that he’s gone completely fucking nuts. Straight into the deep end, jumped off with both feet.
I can handle being called a lot of things. I can take a beating any day, have taken it when I thought I deserved it, but this is too fucking much. No one calls me a rat, not even my Prez. Or former Prez, as it were. Former friend, former brother. Former fucking everything.
I let out an explosive bellow of rage as red paints my vision. The kind of red brought on by shades of pure, unadulterated rage. It takes Steel by surprise. His eyes widen in shock as I bring my fist up, straight into his jaw. He reels back, his hands slackening on my t-shirt, from the vicious blow. I didn’t hit him hard enough to crack his jaw or knock sense into him, apparently, because he comes at me.
Hurtles himself at me, a three hundred fucking pound freight train of rage, leather, and steel.
I go down hard, my chest collapsing as the wind rushes out of me. Memories of the last time we did this come rushing back at me, but I’m not gonna let him beat me into the fucking floor again. Even though I’m still gasping like a dying fish, I manage to swing out blindly with my fist. Even though Steel leans back and I miss, he’s exactly where I want him. Just far enough up that when I bring my knee up, it catches him straight in the balls.
He rolls off me, clutching at a spot where no man should hit another man. Not that I was aiming for it, but it did the job.
Steel curls into a tight, fetal ball and lets out a groan that makes my own balls ache.
“You motherfucking rat bastard!” he moans as he struggles to catch his breath.
His face is a sickly shade of gray, and as I get to my feet, I have a hard time feeling sorry for the bastard. “I’m not a guy who kicks a man when he’s down,” I pant. “No matter how much I want to. But call me a rat again, and I’ll give you a fucking taste of your own fucking shit kickers.”
Steel groans but manages to unfurl enough to flip me the bird. Nice. He lets out a shaky exhale, as though testing to see if his lungs still work. “You’re the only one who could have organized it…” he rasps, a line of spittle trailing from his bottom lip.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” My shoulders heave with each hard breath. I grind my teeth after and curl my hands into fists, trying to keep it the hell under control and not go completely fucking off the handle on him.
“Leah. The girls. Harley… Christine… they were… taken. Guys left a note at the fucking spa with the… front desk girl,” he spits out. “It’s the Devil’s Slaves, aswe thought. Took ‘em and left us a fucking calling card. Their Prez wants a meeting. Our Prez, our VP, and one other bastard of our choosing. Have to go to Jacksonville tonight. Probably a fucking trap. They want our territory. Our fucking warehouses. Our grow-ops, and our connections. Want it all, and they’ve taken our women to ensure that’s exactly what they’re gonna get.”
I reel back at the words like Steel just landed a physical blow. I watch him, panic tearing away at my insides as it sinks in that Harley was taken. That she’s being held by those bastards. That they could have, or can do, anything they damn well want with her.
All I can do is force myself to breathe. In and out. In and fucking out, otherwise I’m going to run out that busted front door, get on my bike, and fight my fucking way in, guns blazing or not, to get my woman back. I’ll kill anyone that has dared to touch her. I’ll—
“It only makes sense…” Steel gasps out as he pushes shakily to his feet, “that you were the one who fuckin’ told ‘em where they were.”
I round on him so fast it stuns even me. I grasp a fist full of leather and haul the bastard all the way up with brute strength. He might have a little bit of weight on me, a few inches in height, if that, but he’s poked the wrong fucking bear. I snarl at him, spraying spittle all over his face when I speak.
“Why the fuck would you say that? Why the fuck would I give them the person I love most in this goddamned world? They have Harley. My woman.”
Steel blinks at that, like it still hasn’t sunk in that his daughter loves me, that I love the hell out of her, that I will light up a trail of destruction and devastation as I blaze my path to get her back.
I shake Steel hard. “Why the fuck would you call me a rat?” I demand again, since he still hasn’t answered me. “Harley was at The Canteen when that shit went down. She was shot. She could have been killed.”
“But you didn’t know she’d be there, did you?” Steel fires back, some of the life and rage flooding back into his face as his color changes from that gray to a more normal shade of bronze. “You thought she’d be here. You weren’t there. You knew I wasn’t either. They had complete access to the place. We were vulnerable and you knew it.”
