Kelso

When I meet up with my brothers after the trial, we’re all excited. We know not a second was wasted, and it will be damn hard for any of the other teams to do better than us. 

“One minute and thirty-two seconds.” Slater slaps my shoulder as I approach him. “Better than when we practiced.”  

“What can I say, everything went perfectly. I’m fucking awesome.” 

Pacer walks up behind me. “Fuck no, I was the fucking awesome one. You got the easy part. It was my skid and turn that were on point.” 

Mack chuckles while Lana, Dom, and Piper congratulate us. Ava bounces up and down, having no clue what’s so exciting, and Sophie smiles down at her daughter. Della hugs Pacer and me and says she’s happy for us, but happier we’re still in one piece. 

“As stoked as I am, I gotta jet. I got a beautiful redhead to celebrate with.” I grin from ear to ear as my family coo and tease me on my way through them to get to my car. 

Thundering rumbles to my right get my attention. I stop dead when twenty to thirty bikers come into view. The crowd parts for them as they ride slowly toward my family.

Behind me, Pacer growls, “Della, get Sophie and Ava out of here, now.” 

Turning, I return to my brothers and Dom and watch as the women in my family casually but fluidly walk to Pacer’s Dodge. They all fold inside the car and stay put, not making a move. 

A few moments later, the herd of bikers come to a halt in front of me and my brothers. Scanning their vests quickly, I read Anamosa Chapter. 

Fuck. 

The three riders at the front of the pack step off their bikes, and the one in the middle turns his back to us and speaks to a man behind him. It’s then I see the emblem on the back of his leather cut, a reaper with the words Dirty Deeds MC and Indiana. Anamosa Dirty Deeds MC. Never heard of them, but by the size of their crew they're not a new club.

The three men stalk toward us. We stand united and strong, but with relaxed expressions, as if we don’t have a care in the world. 

Half a meter away, the bikers still, and the man standing in the middle lifts his heavily tattooed hand and removes his black KD sunglasses. The broad-shouldered biker tilts his head and narrows his blue eyes at each of us, one after the other. “We’ve been told you men are the Portland Street Kings. Correct?” His voice is gruff and the deep tone surprises me, because the man’s dark blond hair and beard adorn what I thought was a young man, possibly midtwenties, but his voice sounds a lot older, with years of experience behind him.

“Correct,” Slater answers, crossing his arms against his chest. “We’re on our way out, so if you have something to say, you had better make it quick.” 

Scanning the man’s jacket, I learn he’s the president and an unholy one. An unholy patch means the man has done something ruthless to save his club or a member. A normal biker is trouble, but an unholy one is a person everyone should steer clear of. They hold nothing above their club, not women or family. 

The president throws his head back and laughs. The two men beside him don’t move or flinch. With a quick glance, I see the vice president stands to the left and the sergeant at arms to the right. 

The three men step forward, coming much closer. The president stands face-to-face with Slater.

My brothers, Dom, and I don’t move, not showing an ounce of fear. I don’t lie to myself, though; I know my rapid pulse and swirling gut are pure fear. There’re twenty or more of them and only five of us.

The president grins and runs a hand through his blond undercut, and drops his arm to his side. “I like that you have the balls to speak to me this way, especially when you’re outnumbered, but I’m not here to start trouble. I only need information.”

Slater relaxes and lowers his arms to his sides. “What could we possibly know that would interest you and your club?” 

 “First, let’s introduce ourselves. You can call me Aero. This is Gunner,” he gestures to his right, “and this is Mac.”  

“Slater,” my brother announces, and then goes silent. 

The president’s face splits into a smile as his eyes scan across my family. “Well, Slater, two of my members are dead, and one is missing. Whispers have begun and the Portland Street Kings’ name keeps popping up. Why is that?” 

Glancing to my brother subtly, I watch Slater lick his lips. A grim line forms on his face. “Our name means a lot of different things around these parts. Usually it gets dropped when dead bodies show up. Doesn’t mean we had anything to do with it, though. Maybe you need better control of your men. Sounds like they’ve been running around without Daddy’s permission.”

Oh fuck. Pressing a fist to my lips, I try hard to swallow down my chuckle. My brothers attempt to hide their amusement as well, but we don’t go unnoticed. The three bikers glance my way and their eyes darken. Definitely not the time for Slater to crack his first joke in… forever. 

Aero’s gaze swings back to Slater and narrows. “I’m not an unreasonable man, unless I’m forced to be. I have someone you’ve been looking for, a Deputy Adam Parks.”

Any warmth from my laughter disappears as ice fills my veins. “He’s ours,” I hiss. “We have plans for the motherfucker.” 

The president’s eyes swing to me. “You’re Kelso then?” With a clenched jaw and hard eyes, I say nothing. Parks has been impossible to find, and now we know why. “Apologies, but he’s long gone. The pig squealed long and hard before he got gutted.” Aero folds his arms against his chest, leather stretching with the movement. 

“Brick and Grease are deemed traitors by our club. I couldn’t give two fucks about those idiots, however, that slippery fucker Krazy is my number-one problem. I’m bringing in a new era to my club, one a lot of the original members are fighting against, hence why Krazy has gone above and beyond to get inside help from the pigs to bring me down.” 

“He started a coup,” Slater says, not a question, an observation. 

Aero nods and glances over his shoulder and then back to us. “I got men at my back who will die for me and others who want me dead. Krazy isn’t stupid, he didn’t meet with the deputy, and the pig never heard his name. I know what he’s doing behind my back, but without proof I can’t accept his disappearance and go on my merry way. He holds too much weight in my club. They want answers, and revenge if he’s dead.” Bracing, I tighten every muscle in my body, preparing for anything. “Trust me, the last thing I need right now is more fucking problems, I already got ninety-nine. Nevertheless, I got laws I have to uphold to my club.” The president takes a big breath in and continues, “Now, do you have Krazy, or did you kill him?” 

Slater glances to me and lifts his eyebrow, allowing me the choice to decide on what we’ll tell them.

“He’s alive, but we have no idea where he is.” I offer all I need to and nothing more.

Aero glances to his left and then right; the three men converse between one another. 

“I believe you,” Aero finally says. “Fair warning, if you find him, don’t kill him. Call me and I’ll pick him up. If he dies before I can cut out the disloyal members and prove he was in on the coup with Brick and Grease, my club will call for your blood and I won’t be able to stop them. I’ll have a revolt on my hands, and I’ll save my own ass and my club before any street thug lives. Are we clear?” 

Slater nods and turns his back on the bikers, walking away. My brothers, Dom, and I follow suit. 

“And,” Aero says, and we turn to look back at him, “keep Sophie alive, will you. Krazy fucking loves the woman, she may be the advantage I need to break him.”

Pacer growls and spins around, but Slater places a hand on his shoulder and stops him from doing anything stupid.  

Aero grins, and dread weighs down on my chest. The president, his VP, and the sergeant turn on their heels and head back to their bikes. Within in a few minutes their crew is gone, only dirt in the air where their bikes once were.

Dom, Pacer, and Mack walk straight to the car, to the women, while Slater approaches me. “Get Ivy and bring her back to our place. I know you both have shit to work out, and I don’t care if you scream our house down, but do it at home. We need to stick together until this all blows over.” 

“Done.” 

I’m in my car, fishtailing it out of Speed Wars and heading for my Red, with her promises and hauntingly beautiful remorse echoing through the car. I understand now what Mack said about forgiveness. The moment Ivy poured her heart out to me, even over a stereo, my heart cracked and I fell for her all over again. Hate is overrated. I never want the ugly emotion inside me again; love is where happiness lies, love is where I want to spend my life. 

* * *

Pulling up to Ivy’s house, the first thing I look for is her car. It’s there, sitting out the front. 

I step out of my car and rub the back of my neck. I’m surprised to be feeling a little nervous. Five days ago, Ivy and I broke each other’s hearts. I don’t even know where to begin or what to say when I first see her. I wish we could wipe the day from our history and go on as if it never happened, but I know it's a fool’s dream. We need to acknowledge our past and deal with our problems to build a concrete and stable future.

Stalking up the walkway, I notice the front door is ajar. Taking two quick leaps up the porch steps, I freeze when I’m met with a knife sticking out of the front door, holding up a white piece of paper. Red is smeared across the blade and paper.

With my breathing stalled, I rip it off the door.

The note floats out of my trembling hands as my muscles bunch and I spring from the spot, slamming open the door and screaming, “Ivy!” 

I freeze inside the door, my knees almost buckling when the metallic smell hits my nose and my vision takes in red blood, everywhere. A large puddle sits at my feet, but it’s spread all over the room, on the lounge, TV, walls, and even the still-hanging photo frames. Bile rises and threatens to spill, but I can’t rest. Racing through the house, I yell Ivy’s name, but there’s no voice back, no whimpering, no sign of her anywhere. 

Only silence, except the deafening sound of my heart cracking open, splitting in two. More painful than when Ivy hurt me, this is like nothing else I’ve ever felt. 

Walking back to the living room, dizziness clouds my view as I take in the bloodred room, the color I loved so much now something more sinister. It feels as if someone has taken my soul and broken it. 

My body grows heavy, but I grab hold of the lounge and refuse to allow myself to become weak. Hope and despair battle it out inside my soul like never before. I will not give myself this moment to think of the unimaginable. Ivy isn’t here, her body isn’t here.

I focus on four handprints on the wall; they’re large, much too big to be Ivy’s. Krazy. He’s taunting me. Uncontrollable shaking racks my body. Swallowing roughly, I stride for the front door. 

I will end him. 

I will bleed the life from his body as he has done to the woman I love. 

Nothing and no one will stop me.