Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jarrett
Lying in a pool of congealed death, hope bleeds from me. Bullets scream down at me from every angle. Every exit — every door, every window — leads to my execution.
I might’ve killed three of them, but I am trapped in this stash house.
With every minute that passes, I feel myself growing weaker; my strength seeping out from the hole in my shoulder. With every minute that passes, I drift further into those nightmares that refuse to leave me: the lasting trauma of my time in the service.
A voice calls from outside in between the violent chorus of gunshots.
“If you come out right now, we’ll make this quick. One bullet right between your eyes. It’s the best offer you’re going to get. So stop wasting our fucking time and get this over with.”
I shake my head, clear my thoughts. Trauma and dark memories want to drag me under. But the thoughts of Selena and Jake keep me afloat. It isn't perfect, it isn’t a cure, but thinking about life with them is a start and the promise of something better is something I can cling to. It's the first I've felt like I have a life preserver in this horrible turbulent sea that is my life.
“Give it up or you will suffer,” he shouts again.
Fuck this man for thinking I’ll take the coward’s way out. I might be bleeding out on this dirty floor, but I’m still a fucking man.
“Suck my cock, you piece of shit,” I reply.
“You’re just making it harder on yourself. We’re going to kill you, and then everyone else in your fucking club. You come out now and you’ll save yourself a whole bunch of pain.”
“Last I checked, I’m not wearing a fucking Jackal patch, so I ain’t a cocksucking coward. Come in here yourself and I’ll show you how a King fights.”
He answers with a hail of bullets.
I calm my breathing. Just hearing this son of a bitch’s arrogant voice gets my blood boiling. Being heated in a time like this just means I’m going to make a mistake and get myself killed earlier. I’ve got to stay focused. I’ve got to buy time. I need to do everything I can to make sure Selena and Jake far enough away from this place.
They’re my priority. They’re worth my everything.
Round after round that fires into the house and I wait for my moment to strike back. These men aren’t soldiers, they don’t have the discipline to stagger their firing. There’s going to be a break in the shooting and that’ll be my opportunity to strike.
It comes. One split second. My chance.
I rise up again.
My eyes find him instantly. That big fucking gorilla with the fucking smug grin on his face that is just begging for me to put a bullet through it.
What a sitting fucking duck.
I aim.
His eyes lock with mine. They go wide. Pupils dilate.
That fucking coward.
I wink at him and I can’t suppress a smile.
This is for her.
I squeeze the trigger.
Fire belches from the barrel of my rifle as I send death right at that hulking son of a bitch. He moves — the fucker’s quick — and two of the Jackals standing next to him go down screaming. I duck and roll back to cover as they return fire. They shoot the house to fucking pieces and shrapnel — wood, paint, sparks, shards of bullets — rains down upon me.
My head is swimming from the loss of blood and I know it’s not going to be much longer before I can barely stand. Before pulling a trigger is going to be too much effort.
In the distance, from behind the thundering waves of gunfire, I hear the rolling tide of motorcycle engines coming in hard and the thudding chug of a heavy-duty truck’s motor.
There’s more of these cocksucking roaches?
And they’ve got fucking trucks?
I force my mouth into a snarl. If I’m going to die, I’m going to go out like a man. I’m going to fire every single fucking round I got at these sons of bitches and make them pay with blood for what they’ve done. I know I can take out at least another one before I die. Maybe two, even.
The bikes are almost here.
Screaming comes in from outside. More gunshots.
They know they’ve won. They’re getting reckless.
Grunting, I force myself to a kneeling position and get ready to stand. This is it.
Time for me to die.
I rise above the threshold of the nearest window. And I fire. One round after another out into the screaming scene of total chaos. Half the Jackals are facing away from the house, shooting out towards the road and towards another approaching group. The other half are running for their bikes.
And in the middle of it all: that big fucking gorilla, shouting orders, shooting his gun, and generally looking like a giant prick that needs to die.
I focus right on him.
I don’t care what else is going on, I want him dead.
Ready.
Aim.
One shot. Perfectly placed.
Yeah, I still got it.
He goes down, a chunk of his skull missing. Blood everywhere and the gun goes flying from his limp hands.
The sight of it puts a genuine smile on my face.
If I die, at least I’ll go out knowing I took down the man who threatened the life of the woman I love and her child.
Two of the devils turn towards me. They raise their guns and get ready to blow me away.
I shift my aim. I’m going to go out shooting. I always knew I would die like this.
Suddenly, there’s an unholy screech and the crash of steel on steel as a huge, heavy 4x4 truck comes flying down the road to barrel into the crowd of Jackals. Bodies and bikes go flying, including one Jackal who goes spinning through the air, whirling like a helicopter’s rotor, before he crashes into a tree with a bloody thud.
And behind the wheel of the truck: Ozzy, with a big fucking smile on his face.
He gives me a thumbs up as I just stare at him.
What the fuck is going on?
The rest of my club pulls in right behind the club. With no hesitation, Gunney and Bear both leap from their bikes and, in one motion, put bullets in the prone bodies of the Jackals. Crack. Crack. Crack.
An entire club, wiped out in a bone-shaking crash of steel and bullets.
“Over here,” I call out to them. My rifle clatters from my hands and I reach out to take hold of the windowsill for support. My head is swimming and I can barely stand from the loss of blood.
“Get in there,” Gunney shouts, motioning for everyone to approach.
It’s a welcome sight to see my brothers running towards me: full patched members and prospects. Everyone is here.
“I got you,” Bear says, sliding his arm around me and giving me a shoulder to lean on. “Come on, let’s get you into the truck.”
He leads me away as Gunney directs the rest of the club to grab every crate and everything else in the stash house that they can get their hands on and load it into the truck.
“Good work, mate,” Ozzy says to me as Bear opens the door to the truck and helps me inside. “You good to take a bit of a ride?”
I nod. “I was good enough to kill those bitches. I can do a few more miles.”
“Sam’s up in Portland. We’re going to rendezvous with her once we get out of Salem with the cargo. We’ll move you over to her truck and she’ll get you some medical attention.”
“Did Selena make it out?”
Bear grins. “Who do you think called us?”
“I think I might love that woman.”
The second I say it, I know that’s a lie. There’s no ‘might’ about it — I truly love that woman. Through all the fires, the lies, the violence and destruction, I love her. Her imperfections, her cracks, her scars, they all add character to the wickedly beautiful woman that she is and they echo the pain and damage in my own soul.
“You know, I think she might love you back.”
That puts a smile on my face. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Take care, brother.”
Bear pats me on my good shoulder and closes the door.
I turn to Ozzy. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
The truck chugs its way back to the highway, followed by the rest of the club on bikes. In the distance, I hear sirens as fire and emergency services try to grapple with the sheer mess we’re leaving behind in Salem. From the sound of things, they’re still trying to get a handle on the explosion over by the Bloody Jackals clubhouse and haven’t even gotten to the stash house. They’ll be cleaning up that wreckage for a long time. It’ll be a long time before any MC gets a foothold in this town again.
“Mate, there’s something that’s been on my mind,” Ozzy says, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of us.
“Yeah?”
“How is it you were so sure that we’d wind up in the same place?”
I look out the window, rolling over in my mind just how to answer Ozzy’s question. I don’t want to let on about Selena betraying the club — she had her reasons for it, and, if she wants to come clean to the club about it, she can do that herself.
“Selena’s had problems with them in the past. The Jackals and the Devil’s Riders killed her brother and the MC he was a part of. This war the Jackals have going with the Triads just has the same stink on it,” I say. “I was just thinking with my gut, brother.”
He grunts. “I hear you. Though when I think with my gut, it usually leads to a good feed at a fried chicken joint. Or some burgers. Not a shootout a state away.”
My head starts to nod; my strength is fading with the blood seeping from my shoulder. “Save the meditations on fried chicken and bullets for another time, brother. Let’s just get the hell out of here and get this whole guns business over with.”
Without taking his eyes off the road, Ozzy shrugs.
“It’s going to be a long time before this is over, mate.”
“Not until every last one of them is dead.”