Page 37 of Revenant's Fire

A shiver skitters down my spine, and I don’t need to turn around to know who the voice belongs to. Expensive cigar smoke billows around me and I school my features, before looking over my shoulder.

“Amos Crowe.”

A grin splits his thin face, pulling the skin taut across his cheeks.

“Ah, so you do remember me.”

“Nope.” I reply, popping the “p”.

His gaze lingers on me for a little too long, before he shakes himself out of whatever messed up thought is in his head. “I remember you, Sunny Richards.” He takes a step closer and I stand my ground.

Split and Bubbles don’t. They back right up, wounds forgotten until Amos Crowe snaps his fingers at them.

“Tell the Wolves it’s time. Sunny and I are going to have a little chat.” He gives them a goddamned finger wave, then shoos them.

His measured steps echo through the crappy garage, the exact opposite of that idiot Bubbles, her high heels frantically clacking as she follows Split out of the garage.

My attention snaps back to Amos Crowe now standing a foot away. He’s dressed in a pinstripe dark suit with shiny, pointy shoes, and, is that, a heel? I can’t contain my snort, taking pleasure in the irritation that flashes in his eyes.

“Something funny?”

“You’re just a little guy, ain't ya? I goad.

“Oh, I’m the biggest, baddest mother fucker you’ll ever meet.” He moves closer. “Do you know why I chose you?” he asks, head tilted, looking at me in a way that sends a shiver up my spine.

“Because I’m a big, bad motherfucker?” I throw his words back at him.

He laughs, shaking his head, “No. I chose you because you don’t fear me.” He stares at me intently. “Yet.” He starts pacing in front of me. No, pacing isn’t quite the word for it. He’s not nervous. No anxiety in the way he holds himself. He marches, his movements controlled. “Sunny Maria Richards.” Ugh, he full-named me. “Eldest child of Warrick John Richards and Maria Ana Richards of 42 Carston Way. Sister to River, Brooks, Forrest and Marigold.” He tilts his head a moment, his mouth resembling what he probably thinks is a polite smile and it does nothing to settle the feeling of dread in my stomach. “How is little Goldie? I heard she has quite the right hook on her.” He drops his gaze to his manicure, picking at his cuticle and I don’t give him the satisfaction of riling me up. No. I store that information away for another time. One where I have the upper hand. And Elias at my back.

“Yawn,” I reply in a bored tone. “So what? You’re gonna kill my family?” I try to bluster, hoping he can’t hear the waver in my voice.

“Maybe.” He considers his words. “Eventually.” Abruptly he turns, moving away, just a little, but enough for me to let out the breath I was holding. “I have plans, Sunny.” He stops in front of me. “And you’re the first move.”

“Revenant will kill you.”

“Oh,” he says, mouth open into an “o”. “You think this is about you and Revenant?” His brows raised in surprise. “How wonderfully romantic.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head sadly. “When facing an enemy you must know their weaknesses.” He smiles but the light doesn't reach his eyes. “Revenant’s weakness is -” he whirls his finger in the air before jabbing it in my direction, “you. Gallows’ weakness is the club. Jubilee’s is Mercy but I don’t think she notices, do you?” He raises a brow and now I’m scared.

My breath hitches in my chest and fear spikes in my belly. He steps closer, closer still, so close I almost step back to get away from him. Almost.

“I know every. Little. Thing. About the Saint’s Outlaws. Their loyalties.” He leans forward, his cigar laced breath fanning my face. “Their regrets. Who they’d bleed for.” He snaps his teeth in my face before spinning on his heel.

“You’ll never destroy the club.”

“What?” He laughs softly. “I don’t want to destroy the club.” His smile drops, eyes dancing. “I just want what’s rightfully mine.”

Using the muzzle of his gun he idly brushes imaginary dirt from my shoulder, clearly pleased with himself. I want to lunge forward, drive my knife into his ribs, but the unsettling look in his eye has me frozen.

His gaze lingers on my face before he lets out a disappointed groan, “Pity I can’t add you to my collection. Yet.” He shakes himself off, giving me that soulless smile I’ve become accustomed to in the past five minutes. “Be a good girl and pass on the message, Sunny Maria Richards.”

Spinning on his high heel he strolls toward the door, his whistled tune bouncing off the walls of this old garage. I think to run after him, to kill him where he stands, to escape. I think of a million and one things I want to do but I hold back. I need to warn the MC and I can’t do that if I’m dead. Noise to the left of me has my head snapping in that direction, my gaze meeting that of Split and Bubbles.

Well, hello there.

Revenant

Sitting on my hog I wait for Prez’s orders. The roar of our engines will settle the fear clawing at me. It means I’m closer to bringing Sunny home. My gaze is fixed on my hands, gripping the handlebars as if the leather is enough to ground the monster rising inside me. How dare those fuckers take Sunny?

“We good?” Pastor Richards, Warrick, asks out the window of this F-100, his arsenal on the passenger seat beside him. I dip my chin. We’ll be leaving soon enough.