Stephanie Tyler - Vipers Run

Rocco was by the door and Preacher was there, watching us without watching.

“Where’s Jeffrey?” I asked.

“He’s here,” Cage told me. “Eli, can you take Calla to the truck? Connor’s there waiting.”

Cage kissed me; then Eli came to my side. I didn’t understand why until Cage moved away and I heard Jeffrey Harris’s scream, almost a howl. I met Eli’s eyes and he nodded. As he led me away I looked over my shoulder. Rally and Preacher were holding Jeffrey for Cage, and although I didn’t see everything, I knew what the blood between Harris’s legs meant.

He’d never do this to another woman. He’d never haunt me again. This was justice. And the police were nowhere to be found.

I thought about all of that as I let a boy who was more of a man than Harris would ever be lead me to the safety of a waiting truck. Connor, from the backseat, said, “Preacher said to go to the clubhouse. They’ll meet us there. Cops are on their way.”

Eli pulled away and I said, “Wait—you’re not—”

“Not old enough to drive? I’ve got a license,” he said, like that was all that mattered.

I was so grateful to be safe, I didn’t care. He’d turned up the heat because I was shivering, then said, “Cage is right behind us, okay? He’ll come to you as soon as he can.”

“He saved me,” I whispered.

“Yeah, he did.”

“Again.”

“He’s good at that.” He grabbed another blanket from Connor and handed it to me. As I spread it over my legs, he said, “You’re going to be okay, Calla.”

“So are you,” I told him, and his expression tightened. “He won’t let you go back.”

“Cage might not have a choice.”

“Cage always has a choice.”

* * *

Sometimes, knives were far more effective than money or power. Cage stood over Harris’s crumpled body as the man sobbed.

Harris would die here. Calla’s file would be anonymously sent to the FBI with her name redacted. They would also get pictures of what he’d done to her—two of them, because that’s all he could stand to let Preacher snap before he ran in to rescue her.

Thank God for Holly . . . and for Detective Flores. When he’d figured out where Calla was, Cage had sent Flores on a wild-goose chase, because she’d have simply taken Harris into custody. And that wasn’t nearly good enough for him.

“That one’s for Calla. The next one, that’s for Eli. And the last one will be for me,” Cage growled, his hand curled around the knife. He wiped it on the grass next to Harris’s face and he forced the man to look at him. “Rot in hell, motherfucker.”

And then he walked out of the Heathens clubhouse and away from any guilt, because for this, he had none.

“Now what?” Preacher asked.

“I’m resisting the urge to find the other two who hurt her,” Cage said, with a barely suppressed fury. He never liked being this angry when he had a job to do, but this was far too personal not to be. “But first, let’s finish what we started with the others.”

“Let me, Cage.”

“They’re my problem, Preach.”

“I know. But let me.” With a hand on Cage’s shoulder, Preacher said, “Go to your woman. Tell her she’s free. Tell Eli he’s free. Tell him that with a clear conscience.”

Rocco watched the exchange. “I’ll drive you, Cage. Rally and Tals will help Preacher.”

The Heathens, including Cage’s father and Troy and the others who were going to hurt Calla, were tied up at the bottom of the hill. Five men who wouldn’t be alive come morning.

He grabbed Preacher in a one-armed hug and let Rocco bring him to the rest of his family.

There would be too many questions at the ER, and although I didn’t want to be at the clubhouse, I knew it was the best place to be. Because the police would come here soon, and they’d see what happened to me. They’d put two and two together, but I wouldn’t admit to anything, because no matter what I said, it would indict the man I loved.

Holly helped me shower, got me dressed and settled me onto the couch. She gave me something to calm my nerves and wrapped me in blankets. I couldn’t stop shaking, and I knew I was in a little bit of shock, but that would wear off when I saw Cage come in, safe and sound.

After an hour, Cage came in. He kissed me, then went to shower, as did Rocco. When he came back to me, he was dressed in clean clothes. We were all sitting there watching a movie when the police cars came to the clubhouse, with Officer Flores coming to check on me.

I was bruised, but calm. I told her that someone dragged me into the woods and tried to assault me, but Holly scared them off. And no, neither of us knew who it was.

Preacher and Rally and Tals came in then, all of them looking clean and fresh . . . and reeking of booze. Flores eyed them suspiciously.

“Detective Flores,” Preacher boomed. “Nice of you to join us.”

“I was just leaving. I suppose you have alibis.”

“About six of them,” Preacher agreed.

Flores rolled her eyes.

When she left, I fell asleep in Cage’s arms. When I awoke, we were all there, in the same spot—Tals and Preacher and Rocco and Eli and Holly—collapsed on the couches, with other members of the MC watching over us from various corners of the clubhouse.

Yes, this place could end up feeling like home after all.

* * *

Detective Flores came back to the clubhouse in the morning. I was sitting outside drinking coffee when she sat down next to me. I tensed, because she had to know what had happened by now.

“Agent Jeffrey Harris is missing.”

“Really?” I sipped my coffee. “That’s a shame.”

“It seems like he went crazy, murdered about six men from the Heathens MC in cold blood. Word on the street was that he’d agreed to help them move their drugs, but then he’d turned on them.”

“Sounds like there’s no harm, no foul, then.”

“By all accounts, Jeffrey Harris was a decorated agent,” Officer Flores told me. “I haven’t been able to find evidence to the contrary.”

I wanted to scream to tell her exactly what he’d done to me. “I’m sure he’s got friends who vouch for that.”

“Many of them,” she agreed. “Several of whom tell a very interesting story about a time at a party when a young girl tried to get him in trouble.”

“Really?” I shifted.

“They wouldn’t give a name,” she continued. “But there was talk of some pictures. Like the pictures I found in your brother’s possession the night he died.”

I stared straight ahead. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Are you all right, Calla?”

I turned to her. “I am now. So you’ll excuse me, Detective Flores, if the line between the good guys and the bad guys is pretty much goddamned blurred for me.”

She nodded. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

“No offense, but I hope I never will.”

She gave me a small smile before disappearing around the corner.

I rested for a week before I went stir-crazy. Cage was with me the majority of the time, but today he had things to do. He didn’t specify what things, but I assumed it had to do with cementing Eli’s place with him.

Eli’s mom was scared of retaliation. Cage made sure she was hidden until he could figure out the next steps. I knew Cage’s sister also wanted to come back to Skulls too.

Eli and I went down to the shop next door to grab a quick soup and sandwich. Rocco was waiting outside. Eli had been drawing and I’d been lounging on the couch watching a movie, so I was dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. Eli wore jeans and a T-shirt, and without the leather vest, he looked younger.

He went to grab sodas and I prepared to order. The woman behind the counter eyeballed me, saying, “You’re a new one.”

I raised a brow but didn’t say anything beyond, “I’ll have a number two on white bread and a number four on a roll, please. And two tomato soups.”

She rolled her eyes and put the soup into take-out containers, made the sandwiches in front of me, muttering all the while.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

She shoved the wrapped sandwiches at me, then put the containers up behind it. “You’re one of theirs.”

I didn’t say anything. Eli came up next to me and I swore I heard a mini Cage-like growl. The woman froze, stared at him.

“Can I just pay?” I asked.

“Fine,” she said. When I handed her a twenty, she said, “I’ve gotta grab change in the back.”

“Are you okay?” Eli asked.

“Fine.” And I was. I was also tired and stressed and still very worried about him and Cage and waiting for the other shoe to drop but . . .

She stormed out of the back and punched the register keys. She handed me change and shoved the food into a bag and Eli took it for me.

I didn’t know what she was so angry about. I was the one who should be angry, since she was talking about a revolving door with the Vipers and their women. But that was in the past . . .

“She didn’t come back with change.”

“What?” Eli asked.

“She said she had to go to the back to get change. But she came back and used the register.” My last words were drowned out by the roar of motorcycles. Eli pushed me behind him and Rocco was coming toward us as a big guy got out of a van.

He had a Heathen patch—and a gun trained on me—and with his free hand, he pointed between Eli and the van, saying, “Come with us and no one gets hurt, Eli.”

“Eli, don’t you dare go with him!” I called, but it was too late. Eli was at the door of the van and the gun was no longer pointed in my direction.

“He’s the president of the founding Heathen chapter,” Rocco told me, holding my shoulder like he was worried I’d try to run and grab Eli.

The president looked at Eli, then at Rocco. “Tell Cage to call me. The kid’ll be fine until then.”

* * *

Of course, it couldn’t be over as easily as cutting his father and oldest brother out of his life forever. Eli was still at risk, because even though the feds and ATF were all over that particular Heathens chapter, there were still others to answer to, including the main chapter. The original.

Cage took Tals with him to the bank where the box was being kept. They took it to a different bank, used a different code to lock it up tight.

“That takes care of Calla’s involvement at least,” Cage said.

“You’re not that naive,” Tals told him. And no, Cage wasn’t. But they all knew that having anyone they loved in their lives made them vulnerable.

He was willing to take that chance, if she was.

“What? Rocco, slow the fuck down,” Tals was saying into his phone. Then he paled. “Okay. Got it.”

He hung up and said, “Cory’s got Eli. Took him and said you need to call him.”

Two hours later, we sat in front of Cory, the president of the original Heathens chapter, who told Cage, “You sold out your family. And Eli’s still a probie, which means he’s still Heathen property and you’re no longer a Heathen.”

“My family patched Eli in. He’s fifteen. They tattooed him. He’s not just a goddamned probie,” Cage growled. “You think that shit’s cool, maybe you deserve to be taken down too.”

“Way to stay cool, Cage,” Tals said through clenched teeth. “We’re going to die if you’re not careful.”

“Your friend’s the smart one,” Cory said.

“First time anyone’s ever accused him of brains,” Cage said. “And I wouldn’t count on us being the ones to die.”

Tals put his head in his hands and groaned. “We have RICO evidence against all of you. We’ll leave it alone if you give us Eli and leave Vipers the fuck alone.”

“I never agreed to that,” Cage said.

“But you’re agreeing to get us dead,” Tals shot back.

Cory studied us carefully. Tals slid the key to the safety-deposit box across the table. “Only copy of the key and the tapes.”

“You could’ve used these against all of us—been rid of us once and for all.”

“I’d like to believe one bad bunch didn’t spoil all of you.”

“Been watching this war for years, son.” Cory was pushing sixty. “Tough choice.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Cage told him.

“Get Eli’s tattoo covered.” Cory took the key and stood, knocked on the door. Eli came in, looking nervous but none the worse for wear.

Cage and Tals guided Eli out of the building where Cory held the meeting—a neutral place, except it included a ring of Heathens. But none of them were familiar faces, which made Cage breathe a sigh of relief.