Ryder
Two days had passed since we’d left, and every second away from Braylen was agonizing. Even though the rest of the guys were bothered by the departure, they seemed used to it. I didn’t think I’d ever become accustomed to leaving her behind, crying and worried out of her mind that she was never gonna see me again. Christ! Every tear she shed tore away a piece of me, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to comfort her, other than tell her how I felt and promise to come back.
Neither of which she initially took very well.
I talked to Braylen every time we stopped, and her voice gutted me. I knew she was going through it, but so was I. Something I had to remind her of. During our last call, she told me she loved me and not to worry about her. Truth be told, my jealous streak spiked with the thought that she was spending time with one of the guys at the club, taking her mind off her worry for me. When I voiced as much, she called me crazy, then reminded me that she didn’t want to be a distraction for whatever I had to do. She just wanted me back safe and sound, and in one piece.
As planned, Etch, Smiley, and Miles joined us, taking turns with the rest of us driving back to California. I learned that Smiley—who was constantly grinning, hence the name—was twenty-six, had two baby mamas and a whole lot of drama. Minus the kids, he reminded me a lot of Hawke, or at least who Hawke was a year back. Personality-wise only. Physically, he was the exact opposite with his bright blond hair and heavy facial scruff. He seemed to be a good guy, telling us that he was honored to wear the KC cut.
Miles had a serious look plastered on his face at all times. He was older than Smiley, closer to my thirty-four years, although he seemed like he might even be older. Hard life. That was what I thought of when I looked at him, and in some ways, he kind of reminded me of myself. Before Braylen.
His light brown hair came to his shoulders, thick and wavy. I overheard Adelaide and Sully whispering about how lucky he was to have such hair, a conversation I definitely wouldn’t be mentioning to either Marek or Stone.
“You guys can set up in these rooms.” Marek showed our Texas brothers to some of the empty rooms at the club, since we wouldn’t be needing them during their visit. He’d contemplated setting them up at Zip’s house, where Reece had initially stayed before moving in with Tripp, because it was so close to the clubhouse, but decided against it at the last minute.
Zip was one of our fallen brothers. He was a good kid, loyal as hell. Unfortunately he’d been killed when some of the Reapers had run his vehicle off the road, snatching Adelaide and Kena per Psych’s request. We paid him homage by burying him on the compound since our club meant everything to him.
“Get situated, then meet us in Chambers,” Stone announced, checking to see if they needed anything before joining the rest of us.
Before long we were all gathered around the wooden table, our guests leaning against the wall much like we’d done when at their place.
“Okay,” Marek started, “the trackers are still live, and it looks like they’re are at the docks.”
“No doubt waiting on some sort of shipment,” Trigger offered. “We ambush them there. Quick and unexpected.”
The ol’ man was anxious to move on our enemy, just like the rest of us, but we had to be cautious. Like I’d mentioned before . . . it could be a trap.
“All of ’em?” Stone asked, frowning at how easy this all seemed.
“Enough of ’em.”
“You all know what I think,” I said, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. Everyone remained quiet, too busy processing all of the what-ifs, I was sure.
“What seems to be the problem?” Etch inquired after several moments passed without another word from any of us.
“The trackers were placed on some of the Reapers bikes a while ago. They shouldn’t still be active, but they are. It might be some sort of trap,” Marek gritted, obviously annoyed it was taking us so long to figure out what to do.
“Then why don’t we hunt them?” Smiley asked, grinning like he’d just asked the most obvious question.
“What?” Breck chimed in, seemingly annoyed that Smiley even put in his two cents.
Even though Breck looked pissed off, it didn’t stop Smiley from explaining. “Scope ’em out. Take a couple trips to where you think they are and watch ’em. See if they’re even there. If they are, probably not a trap. If there’s no sign of life, then figure something else out.” He nodded before adding, “Oh and by the way, I’ve used a tracker on one of my exes, and the fucker lasted for two months. Just sayin’.”
Funny how it took someone new to point out the obvious. The majority of us were dealing with our own personal issues, and because the Reapers had threatened us through our women, we weren’t seeing things the way we should’ve. Blinded with the need for revenge, we ignored what could’ve essentially been right in front of our faces.
If we indeed weren’t walking into a trap, we could’ve taken care of business much sooner. The thought alone angered me; the war with our enemy could’ve been over by now.
“Anyone opposed to what Smiley suggested, raise your hand,” Marek said. I looked around the room and not one man raised his arm. We were all on the same page in that we wanted to do something . . . anything. “Okay, then.” He slammed down the gavel before pushing away from the table.
I was one of the last to leave Chambers, too distracted thinking about Braylen to realize only Jagger remained.
“You okay, man?”
“I guess. It’s just . . . there are so many things that can go wrong. And now that I. . . .”
“Have something to lose?” he finished for me. He slid out a chair and took a seat next to me. “Listen, every time I step into that ring, there’s always a chance someone is gonna get the best of me.”
“I’m not talkin’ about losing a fuckin’ cage fight,” I seethed. “This is so much more than that.”
“Let me finish.” Jagger was only silent for a moment. “If you remember, I killed someone in that ring.” That fact had slipped my mind. “All I did was hit him in the wrong spot.”
“Wasn’t that guy a drug addict? Somethin’ was gonna get him sooner or later,” I mumbled, growing impatient with our conversation.
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“That I take risks every time I fight. We, as a club, take risks every time we leave this compound, our reputation preceding us, angering our enemies. And we take risks when we fall in love with someone. All of a sudden nothing else matters but the woman holding our heart. It’s like the thought of something happening to Kena physically hurts, so I try not to let those images in, but sometimes I can’t help it.” Jagger took a deep breath, reclining in his seat to give me the time to digest his words.
“When did you get so damn philosophical?”
“I’m an old soul.” He laughed, slapping the table and rising to his feet. “Now let’s go find out when we’re leavin’.”