Fart!

Somehow I’d ended up running behind Channing’s cousin, and smelling the farts he kept denying.

Another one. I hit Scratch in the back. “Stop farting! They stink!”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I shouldn’t have had that sandwich in the truck.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re kinda mean sometimes, Heather. Do you know that about yourself?”

My hand spasmed. I wanted to hit him again, across the face. I deadpanned, “Really? I had no idea.”

“Not nice. Not nice.”

Then a voice spoke from behind me. “Would you two stop bickering? You’re like two little kids fighting over a toy.”

Scratch didn’t respond, but I screamed my displeasure—or I would’ve. I jumped straight in the air, and just as I started to yell, a hand clamped over my mouth.

“Ssshhhh! It’s me. Lincoln.”

I nodded, and he eased his hand away. I looked at him over my shoulder, still a little shaken. “Where the hell did you come from? And make some noise, why don’t you?” I punched his arm.

Girls aren’t supposed to hit. Guys can’t hit girls, so it should go both ways, but my God, he scared three years off my life. And the need to smoke hit me full blast now. I could smell the nicotine. My nose started twitching, trying to lead me toward it.

“He’s been trailing us the whole time. Right?” Congo said, laughter in his voice.

Lincoln nodded, but barely. The guy was committed to his statue impersonation. “Chan sent me after you guys. Neither of you were answering your phones.” He nodded to our left. “We’re supposed to cross there and meet them on the other side of the hill.”

So far in our scouting mission, we’d done a whole bunch of running around fields and over hills. We’d crossed a river (that was not fun) and gone over more hills. Channing said we were checking some of the Red Demon territories, but so far, I was just seeing land. Everywhere.

“Were you in the trucks before?” It was still bugging me, not seeing Lincoln till now.

Congo spoke for him as Lincoln went ahead, taking the lead. “He’s been our rear, staying back and making sure no one sneaks up on us.”

Well. That made perfect sense.

Channing moved like a ghost. So did Moose, and now Lincoln too. But Congo didn’t, and neither did Chad. Chad smelled like spice cologne, and Congo wore these chains from his pants that rattled every time he moved. Although now I noticed those chains had stopped making any sound.

Chill, Heather. It’s not like they haven’t done this before.

This was a regular Tuesday to them. I kept telling myself that as I jogged after Lincoln and Congo and saw the rest were already ahead. They lay flat at the top of the next hill, some with binoculars out.

Channing turned his head, checking on us as Lincoln dropped and began army-crawling to lie next to him. Congo did the same, but he went to the end, next to Chad. Channing gestured to his right, and I crawled there, Moose on my other side.

“You okay?” Channing asked under his breath, leaning closer to me.

I nodded, but I wasn’t. Or I wasn’t sure.

In the early hours of the morning, when I’d normally be finishing closing Manny’s and going to bed, they were out crawling around in the hills. That shouldn’t have put a dagger of fear in my heart, but it did. I used to not want to know. Now I did, and I was even more terrified.

This life was going to get Channing killed. We weren’t sneaking up on friends or family. We were sneaking up on a motorcycle club—one that did illegal shit.

There’d be guns, drugs, whatever nightmare crap I could think up—it’d be there, and Channing was heading toward it. Not away.

He was insane. They were all insane. I was insane.

“Hey.” He touched my arm, scooting closer. We were lined up from shoulder to ankle, and he could’ve kissed me, but he only whispered, “You okay?”

“No,” I hissed back.

One of the guys started chuckling.

“What’s going on?”

I glared at him, or I tried. There wasn’t much distance between our faces, and as I was glaring, he started smirking. His lips were going to touch mine. He would distract me then, push out all the cold and rational fear in me—because it was rational. The fact that he wasn’t scared was irrational.

He was the insane one—and I was repeating myself. My fear had put me on a loop.

“Don’t you fucking touch me. This is messed up, Channing.”

One of the guys whispered from our left, “Channing’s in trouble tonight.”

Another said, “I’m thinking Channing’s going to get a spanking.”

A third laughed. “Are you kidding me? He’s going to eat that shit up. Spank away. You can spank me too, Heather.”

“Shut it!” Channing lifted up, glaring at both ends of the line.

I had recognized that last voice. “I’m going to make you eat shit, Congo. Just wait and see.”

Moose started laughing. “Congo, you dumbass. She burned down a barn-dance hall because she got pissed. What do you think she’s going to do to you?”

“Jax isn’t one I’d want to piss off.” That was Chad.

I liked Chad, even if he was a little more nuts than the rest. “Thank you, Chad.”

“Got you covered, Heather. And I was not one of the ones being disrespectful just now. Just making sure you know that.”

“Oh, I do.” I raised my voice, just a little. “I’m fully aware which assholes are going to get laxatives in their food when they come to Manny’s one day.”

One of the guys groaned. “I forgot Jax isn’t like other girls. She’s vengeful and she follows through.”

The second voice that had piped in earlier added, “We missed you, Jax. Why’ve you been away so long?”

It’d been high school since I’d tagged along with the crew. As the guys were talking, memories of old times came back to me—when this was just our group of friends doing stupid shit together, when it wasn’t an official crew activity, just a prank or a time we were getting back at Fallen Crest people, or following the Broudou brothers and hoping to make their lives hell.

I met Channing’s gaze, and it was as if he was there with me, remembering too, because his eyes softened. He reached over and brushed a strand of hair from my face.

His forehead rested against mine and he whispered, quietly for only me to hear, “It’s good to have you back.”

His lips touched mine, but only briefly, and he pressed a second kiss to my forehead.

I squeezed his hand before he rolled away.

It was good to be back. It was also terrifying, and I’m pretty sure I’d be jonesing for a cig every time I was with the crew, but it was good. It felt like a piece of me had fit back into place.

“Hey,” Moose spoke up. “They’re moving.”

I hadn’t even looked at what we were scoping out. It was a warehouse, similar to Channing’s, but with another building next to it. A trailer sat at one end, along with a small house. A metal fence ran around the entire place, and a light had turned on, illuminating the front yard area.

One of the large warehouse doors rolled up, and a train of motorcycles pulled out, with no headlights on.

They didn’t rev their engines—just a soft purr as they rolled out, one after another. The front man raised his arm, and the perimeter fence began rolling backward. They had it all set up on an electrical feed, and he started through. They went past us, probably twenty feet to the left.

I panicked for a second, wondering if they’d find our trucks, but then I remembered we’d pulled up to a tree line and left them within the woods. They were hidden.

After the last rider left, the fence closed, and the front yard light went off. At least one person was still in there.

Moose said over my head, “That was Richter.”

“I didn’t see Traverse, or Connelly,” Lincoln added.

Channing was still studying the compound, his jaw clenched. “I didn’t see any of the guys loyal to them.”

An unsettled air lingered over everyone. Channing had filled me in earlier so I knew that wasn’t a good sign. The guys who were supposed to help them weren’t anywhere.

Moose finally asked, “You think they’re dead?”

No one wanted to answer that question, but after a slight pause, Channing shook his head.

“I don’t know.” He pushed himself up. “But I’m going to make sure they’re not in there.”

The rest started to stand. He motioned for them to stop. “No. Stay. I’ll go in alone.”

I sat up. “Like hell you will.”

Lincoln stood too. “I’ll go with him.”

I knew Channing could fight. I’d never seen Lincoln in a fight.

He nodded to me. “I won’t let anything happen to him. Promise.”

Channing came over, bending so his forehead touched mine again. His hands found my face and he whispered, “I’ll be fine, but I have to look. I have to.”

This was what I hated about the crew life, but I nodded. He was going anyway. I’d rather him go with a clear head than one clouded, knowing I was upset.

As he started to pull away, I grabbed him and crushed my lips to his. “You fucking come back to me. You hear?”

“I hear.” He wore a proud grin, and he kissed me again, softer this time. “I promise.”

The two left, blending in with what shadows we could see as they approached the compound.

Chad moved over, taking the spot Channing left behind. Congo followed him.

“If anyone can handle themselves in there, it’s those two.” Chad tried to reassure me. “They’ll be fine.”

Moose growled, “And if not, there’ll be hell to pay.”

I grunted. From the both of us.

We quieted and waited until we saw them appear in front of the fence. One of them threw a stick at it. There was no spark. It wasn’t electrified. Both clambered up and over with an ease that surprised me. They darted across the yard, going to a side door, and were inside.

“Why didn’t they lock the doors?” Congo asked.

“Because their compound is in the middle of nowhere,” Moose answered. “Probably don’t think anyone would have the balls to go in.”

The next moments took years from me.

I didn’t know what Channing was doing. I didn’t know who else was in there.

I didn’t know if they had guns. I didn’t know if someone would attack with a knife.

No lights were on, so they were moving in the dark.

All I knew was that Channing could fight. He was the champion of Roussou’s underground, but I also knew I was ready to tear into them, with my bare hands if necessary. Every second I waited was a lifetime.

The asshole.

He went in there with only one friend.

He left us all out here.

He was selfish.

He was reprehensible.

He was—BANG!

He was the love of my life.

I was up and running before anyone could stop me.

“Heather!”

“Heather! Stop!”

I didn’t care.

Bang! Bang!

Two more shots, and my heart pounded in my chest.

I went down that hill as if my life depended on it, because it did. The guys were in pursuit with me, and I was keeping up. Adrenaline gave me an edge over my normal speed, and I hit the fence hard, using my momentum to climb up and over. This was an old hat I used to wear.

When we were kids, we’d climbed over fences, up trees, through houses. Through creeks and rivers or in the ocean—I would go anywhere with Channing, and today that meant I was storming into an MC warehouse.

After those three shots, there’d been no other sound. The lights were still off, but I was beyond caring.

I ran to the side door and shoved it open.

After that, I stopped. I could smell the gunpowder.

I heard the guys climbing over the fence outside, a few grunts. Someone landed hard on the ground, then nothing. They were as silent as Channing and Lincoln had been.

“Heather.” Moose was behind me, looming over me.

My heart was trying to pound its way out of me, but I held back. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Suddenly, someone cursed. “Fuck this.” The room was flooded in light.

I blinked a couple times, seeing stars. When my eyes could focus, my heart stopped in a whole other way.

Seven guys sat in chairs, their mouths stuffed with rags, their hands tied behind them. Their legs had been zip-tied to the chairs. Lincoln had a gun pointed at someone on the floor, and a pool of blood seeped from beneath him.

And Channing—God, where was Channing?

I heard a footstep from the back hallway, then another.

He appeared, rubbing his hands with a towel, blood splattered over his front and his jeans. There was a smear of blood on his face, but it looked like he’d used something to wipe it off.

“Well.” He looked up, saw me, and surveyed the room. There was no surprise, just a grimness as his jaw clenched again. “If we weren’t at war before, we are now.”