Princess (18 page)

Over the past two days, we’ve learned that the cop told Ex that he’d been watching the area closely and thought that this bitch he’s looking for is being held in a certain spot. There are regular rotations that monitor it made by three guards at all times, which will be no biggie for us to overpower.

Spider had to wait until we penetrated the wall and were physically inside the cartel’s perimeter to log into their camera feeds with his cell. Supposedly, whoever has this chick is insanely cautious and at any little glitch, he takes off with her and disappears. By waiting until we were on their land, the system they use wouldn’t register it as an intruding device, just as one of their men trying to use the Wi-Fi. Fucking crazy shit that I’d never know about or even have a guess to think of; Spider’s one smart little fucker.

Trailing along, I think of random shit, such as I’m grateful to have Spider with us and not against us. He’s a good asset to have and will be even more valuable as he gets in more time on the road with us. I should have him set up some type of security over at Princess’ apartment. I hadn’t seen a keypad by the door when I’d left her place last week.

Sinner gasps, “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ with me.” He clears his throat as his steps falter. “Brothers, stop.” He gazes around out in the field.

I don’t know if he found an IED or a mine or what the fuck, so I stop straightaway. My gaze scans over the ground around us. With it being the Cartel, it could be absolutely anything. If it’s not some explosive or drug, it’s most likely a pile of dead bodies stacked up somewhere.

Next, Saint whispers, “
No
.” And we’re all silent enough to hear it loud and clear. “Holy fuck.”

“What?” Ex grumbles and Sinner nods to the open space off to the left side.

Everyone’s eyes immediately shoot in that direction, concentrating to peer closely enough and pick out whatever Saint and Sinner have discovered. Personally, I’m looking for snipers. I wouldn’t be surprised if they position a few out here to pick off intruders. It would explain the lack of heat signatures the guys were talking about earlier.

The choking sound that leaves Spider as he finally sees them doesn’t surprise me one bit. I’d probably choke also…if I could speak or even move my mouth.

Nightmare grumbles, “What the hell we supposed to do?”

“Anything to the right?” Ex whispers.

“When I looked at the map I saw a small cluster of buildings. I don’t know what they house, though, could be guard quarters.”

“Do we run?” Saint asks.

“If it’s a nest for the sentries they’ll shoot us on site.”

Finally, able to conjure up words, I hiss, “Better than getting eaten by two fucking lions!”

Glaring at Spider and Ruger, I point at them heatedly, “Remind me to fucking skin your asses when this is over with.”

Spider’s eyebrows shoot up. “I swear we had no idea.”

My fingers find the snap securing the large hunting knife to my belt. Pulling the button free, I grab my knife and clutch it in my left hand. My digits go to the clasp holding my hatchet, drawing it free as well; I grasp it tightly in my right hand. I’m as ready as can be if those scary motherfuckers come at me.

I’ll most likely die, but I’ll be taking some of their blood with me.

The brothers all follow my example, preparing. Saint reaches around to dig in his backpack, arming himself with a machete. He passes another to Sinner. The others remove various weapons they’re skilled with, watching the lions closely.

They may be lying out there, looking harmless now, but they can easily outrun any of us if they’re hungry enough.

Exterminator murmurs, “Back up slowly, one step at a time, stay as quiet as possible. Think of them as bears. Ruger, keep an eye on where we came from. Night, watch the path that we were goin’. Saint and Sinner, you got behind us. Viking, want your eyes on those cats. You’re probably the most skilled motherfucker out here with those weapons, who has a chance in hell at killing a goddamn lion. I’ll be monitoring them as well. If any one of us is gonna die, it’ll be me, not my brothers.”

I’ve held a sense of respect toward Exterminator since the day he saved my life. He earned that, but today I respect him for an entirely different reason. The fact he’ll put his life in front of ours speaks of true loyalty and brotherhood. This is why we look to him as one of our leaders; he’s willing to ransom himself before us and take responsibility. I won’t argue with him, but if it comes to it, I’ll be the one forfeiting my life so he may live. I owe him that, and I will pay my debt if needed.

We slowly begin stepping backward, steadily peering over at the enormous beasts, and it hits me that I should confess my initial intentions. That way they’ll all hate me and not interfere when I need to sacrifice myself. The brothers in the Nomads have become my family over the past few years; I won’t allow this to be their parting fate.

“That day, you showed up early and saved my life,” I begin.

He cuts me off mid-sentence. “Why do you think I was early to the bar?”

“Because I’d been tracking you. I was there, waiting for you.”

“Go on.”

“I was sent to kill you from another MC, but you stepped in and stopped that rival club for me.”

He grunts.

“You were the first brother to have my back, and you weren’t even in the same club.”

“You fuckin’ proposing or some shit right now?”

“Just thanking you for offering me a new life.”

I think it’s the most serious conversation I’ve ever had with any of them. We don’t do chats unless it’s full of ribbing each other, planning club business, or discussing the best way to torture someone.

“You think we’d let you ride with us without knowing who the fuck you were?”

His statement surprises me, and I glance at him. He points straight ahead, ordering, “Eyes on the cats.”

One of the lions decides that it’s a good time to stretch, putting us more on edge as we keep shuffling backward.

“I know who the fuck you are or were. I chose that time to wait for you, knowing someone was tracking me. I found a young kid who had a shitty fuckin’ deal handed to him and was following orders in place of the mercenary I was expecting. You’ve proved yourself to this club many times over; you fit with us. If this is your confession, I don’t give a fuck about what it
was
. You’re my brother, end of story. Now shut the fuck up, ‘cause if those cats scratch me from you flapping your jaw, I’mma stab you in the same spot.”

I would grin but watching the other lion stand as well, has my heart rate speeding up.

“Move brothers!” Ex growls and our steps speed up.

Sinner speaks up, “There’s a chain link fence.”

We all glance in that direction, finding that it’s not any ordinary fence. I’d guess it to be at least twenty feet tall of heavy twelve inch wired squares.

Nightmare voices exactly what I was worrying about. “You better pray to whatever god you believe in, ‘cause there’s a good chance that fence is electric.”

Both lions’ heads snap to us, licking their chops and begin to stroll leisurely toward us.

“Oh fuck!” Spider says shakily, losing his shit and taking off, sprinting toward the fence.

The lions perk up at him running, crouching lower as they prepare for their next kill.

Ex catches on, realizing we’ve suddenly become more interesting to the felines, quickly becoming their next prey. “Beat feet for the fucking fence, now!”

Our steps thunder against the dirt, running full force toward the only salvation in site. If we get electrocuted, we may as well give up, ‘cause we’d be well and truly fucked. I won’t let that happen, though; I’ll defend my brothers till my last breath.

Making it to the fence, everyone jumps, scaling our wire savior as quickly as possible. I know the lions run and chase us; I can feel the sturdy metal bounce and sway as they jump after each one of us.

As soon as I reach the top, I leap. Not giving a shit if it’s fifty feet below me or twenty, it’s better than getting a limb chewed off from trying to climb down the other side. Landing roughly on my hands and knees, I say a silent thank you in my mind. My fall could have been much worse, and I was fortunate this time.

Nightmare calls out, his voice laced with shock and pain. Snatching my weapons off the dirt near me, I immediately look for Night, ready to help him if needed. I find him lying on the ground at the base of the fence a ways down from me, clutching his calf.

Striding over to him, the lion roars next to us, busily pawing at the holes trying to reach us. The other one jumps again, scaling the fence a few squares up before it falls. It angrily roars at my brothers, pissed off that its dinner just escaped.

“What happened?

“Landed up against the fence and he got my leg before I could scoot away.”

The cat growls at us.

Nightmare meets its primal stare. “Fuck you,” he grits out, flipping the lion off.

“Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I need to wrap it, though. I can feel the blood runnin’ down my leg, and the last thing I want is to attract more fuckin’ animals.” He shakes his head. “Of course, the Cartel would have wild fucking lions on their Compound. Makes perfect sense. I hope I see the motherfucker in charge, ‘cause he’s paying for this bullshit.”

Chuckling, I cut the bottom of his pant leg. It’s torn most of the length of his calf, but the very bottom is still sewn together. Parting the material, I discover a gaping hole. The lion didn’t just scratch him; he tore a fucking chunk out of his leg.

“How’s it look?” he mumbles, scanning our surroundings as I try to figure out how to fix him.

“You’ll live brother, but you’re right, we should tie it tight, in case there are dogs running around.”

“Just fucking wonderful, thanks for that.”

Taking my fresh bandana from my back pocket, I close the gash up as much as I can. Nightmare groans but holds steady as I snugly wrap the folded over material around his leg.

“Little tight, brother,” he grumbles, wincing.

“Yeah, it’ll fall off if not.”

Liar. He seriously needs to be sewn up and who knows if the cut’s deep enough to do permanent damage, but it’ll bleed a shit ton if that wrap doesn’t help out. I need to let Ex know.

We both stand him lightly on his injured leg.

“Someone should go with you back to the bikes.”

“What? No. I’m no pussy-ass crybaby.”

Shrugging, I drop it.

Sinner grumbles at Spider, “Thanks for that, dick. If you didn’t take off, we could have had more time.”

“That lion wasn’t staring you down; he had me in his sights the entire time,” Spidey defends.

Ex holds his hand up, telling them to stop. “Brothers, we need to find this bitch so we can split.”

The guys nod, silently following Ex, hopefully in the right direction this time.

Bethany glances over at
me as we pull onto the side road that leads to my mom’s. “We’re going to your old house?”

“Yeah. Every time I call my mom, Prez answers.”

“So?”

“I want to talk to her!”

“He doesn’t let you speak to her?”

“I always hang up.”

“You’re such an asshole. He’s your dad, Prissy. You need to just accept it, that this is how their relationship is and move on.”

“I get that and to an extent I agree with you, but what happens if she gets so fucked up sometime down the road from him leaving her again that she pops some pills or something and kills herself?”

Bethany doesn’t answer, staring out the windshield as we near my mom’s house.

“I refuse to feel like I stood by and did nothing. I don’t have to go through with our plan by slamming the Prez in front of everyone, especially because it would now affect Viking as well. But at the same time, it doesn’t mean that I have to like him or talk to him. Father or not, he left my life a long time ago.”

“Look, I love Mona, I do; but that’s not your responsibility. Your mom can decide to stop letting him around. Her actions aren’t yours to own and neither should the consequences be.”

“They may not be, but you tell me all the time, I have one mother and she loves me. I’m not going to stand by and not do something.”

Pulling behind Mom’s Impala, I shift my car into park. “Are you staying? Or do you want to come with me?”

“Isn’t that Prez’ bike?” She nods off to the side of my mom’s car at the navy and black Harley Davidson Softail. Cost my brother almost twenty-four thousand dollars to take that bike home.

“No, the Softail is Brently’s. I forgot you hadn’t seen it yet.” Gesturing to the side of the detached garage, I point out. “That’s Prez’s.”

My dad’s very picky about his bikes. He keeps them for years at a time, but when he gets a new one, it’s completely different than the last every single time. This one’s a Harley Davidson, Ape Hanger Custom, low-Softail Deluxe.

I have no clue how much he spent on it, but I’d guess a ton with its glossy black paint and silver pin striping. He’d never tell my mom anyhow. The one time he told her how much he had spent on a Harley, she flipped her shit. I remember hearing her say that they could put a kid through college, but he had bought a motorcycle instead.