“You ever disrespect me in my house again, LoneStar, and I’ll call for your patch to be taken. This is your last and only warning,” he cautions.
My heart drops into my gut and I stagger back. My breathing becomes choppy and dark spots begin to dance behind my eyes. I bend over as I try to catch my breath and find myself struggling to get enough oxygen into my lungs to keep from passing out. “Fuck. I can’t breathe.” I drop to my knees as the world spins around me.
“Fuck,” Riptide hisses, hunkering down beside me and placing his hand on my shoulder in moral support. “I’m not taking your patch or kicking you out of the club, brother. But if the threat keeps you in line, I’m not taking back the threat.”
“What the fuck happened!” Icer demands as he comes marching over to us. He bends down and gets right in my face. “What did he say to you, LoneStar?”
“My patch,” I wheeze out.
“You threatened to take his patch?” Icer asks, his tone dropping to a treacherous level.
“I’ll take yours too if you keep using that tone with me,” Riptide threatens—there seems to be a lot of that going around as we’re reminded of what’s at stake and what we could lose if we don’t straighten out our act. Our patch. Our family. Our brotherhood.
“Icer. Don’t, brother,” I issue. “I earned it.”
“You didn’t,” he declares. “I think somebody’s forgotten his roots and who all helped him get here.”
“I haven’t forgotten a damn thing,” Riptide hisses. “Just like I haven’t forgotten who was given the president patch and put in charge of you motherfuckers. I don’t know what’s crawled up all of your asses, but I suggest you check yourselves because if I have to do it, you won’t like the consequences.”
“He’s right,” I say, repeating myself, trying to be the voice of reason. Finally feeling steady enough to hop back onto my feet, I continue, “He’s never given us a reason to question him before and we should stop doing it now. I’m sorry, Rip.”
“Forgiven,” he states through gritted teeth, his eyes never wavering from me. A relieved sigh escapes me as we turn ourattention to our more stoic brother. Icer doesn’t say anything, still looking surly but apologetic. Instead, he releases one of his renowned grunts. Rip’s frown turns into a quirky grin when he tells Icer, “Apology accepted.”
“Now that we’re all back on solid ground and are friends again, can we go hunting?” Indiana excitedly asks.
“Yeah, Indie, let’s go hunting,” Riptide answers, rolling his eyes. “Remember the plan, we don’t know what equipment he’s using to spy on us with so we need to tread carefully. We’re going to the backside of the property and will walk through it from there. I’ve already gotten permission from the tribe for us to check things out. They’re as unhappy as we are that they’ve got a trespasser.”
Renegade, being our road captain, steps up and finishes giving us instructions. “We’ll ride out so it appears we’re going on a run and drive around and come in through town. There’s a gravel road off Market Street that leads to the back forty and that’s where we’ll park our rides and travel on foot. It’s a mile hike through rocky terrain so make sure you watch your footing.”
“Be on guard, we don’t know if he’s laid any boobytraps so watch every move you make,” Indiana adds. “Things could get tricky, so watch your brothers’ backs. You may see something he doesn’t.”
We all nod our heads and walk out to our bikes, firing them up. We rev our engines and line up into formation, Rip leading the pack. We made it appear as if we’re going on a run for the club like instructed, bumping knuckles as we sit astride our bikes like we do each time we hit the road for an extended trip.
Rip circles his wrist and points to the gates. Slowly, we roll out and turn left toward the highway. Now that we know to watch for signs of life, that glint of a flash I saw once has me keenly watching the direction I recall it coming from, and again, I see it. It’s quick but noticeable now that I’m looking for it. I relay that information to Rip through our synced Bluetooth so he knows that’s one of the places we need to check out.
As we ride through town, we circle it a couple of times before hitting Market Street and taking the back road that’ll lead us to the abandoned reservation. Rip pulls off on an abandoned county road and we all glide in behind him, shutting down our bikes.
“Is it me, or does this land feel haunted?” I ask Icer as I dismount.
“I bet there’s still a lot of residual energy plaguing this land,” he retorts. “A lot of blood was shed here and I’m sure spirits are still residing here, protecting their home.”
Letti is spiritual and since they got together, she’s opened his eyes to things that are there, but not visual to the naked eye. It’s eerie as fuck but I don’t question someone’s heritage or beliefs. Who am I to say what’s right and what’s wrong? I don’t know all of the mysteries of the world, for all I know, our relatives that have passed still watch over us.
“Hopefully, they figure out we’re here to keep their land sacred and not because we’re here to desecrate it.”
His statement has cold chills racing through me. “They know, they always know,” he mumbles, causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin.
“You two are giving me the heebie-jeebies,” Indiana accuses. “Stop it.”
Icer and I share an amused look before joining the others.
This is going to be a crazy night. If there are spirits watching over us, I hope they lend us a helping hand and keep each of us safe from the lunatic we’re hunting.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
LoneStar
