LOKI

“What’s wrong with her?” I ask anyone who will answer me.

Cowboy comes to stand in my light. “Is she breathing?” he asks and I nod. “She bleeding?” I shake my head. “She have a pulse?” I gently wrap my fingers around her neck, feeling her heart beat strong, maybe a little too fast, but it’s there. I nod. “Then she’s just experienced an adrenaline surge.” He gives me a smile. “She’ll be fine. Some people can’t handle the adrenaline.”

I nod, but look back at her peaceful face. It’s like she’s sleeping. I frown.

“What the fuck did she do?” someone growls, and I look up to see Big Daddy surging through the crowd of bikers.

“She got her revenge,” I tell him at the same time Rooster groans on the ground.

“Well, fuck me sideways,” Big Daddy says as he gets an eyeful of Rooster. He’s fucked in four corners and has no hands to try to suppress the pain. It’s almost comical to watch. “Get him out of here,” Big Daddy orders and Sketch and a couple of his ATF buddies come over and assess the situation. Sketch laughs at the moron on the ground.

“Darius Rufus Beaumont, you’re under arrest for extortion, bribery, kidnapping, false imprisonment, assault with a deadly weapon and the murders of Kevin and Lillian Beaumont and the attempted murder of Kellen Beaumont…”

There is a collective gasp at the words ‘attempted murder of Kellen Beaumont’ followed by some murmurs from the guys. I can’t make out all of them, but they’re all pretty confused. “Kellen’s dead,” someone finally says.

“No, I’m not,” Pyro says from the back of the crowd of people. I can’t see him from here but hear the collective gasp and chatter that follows through the mass of Angels standing around.

Movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention and Sketch and his buddies pick Rooster off the ground. “I don’t know how you’re gonna explain this one away,” one of his guys says.

“I’ll just tell them she missed,” Sketch mumbles but they help Rooster to the SUV they showed up in. Sticks, Big Daddy and Cowboy laugh at Sketch. He knows damn well she didn’t miss.

My attention is drawn back to the crowd of Angels in the street.

“Why?” I hear someone ask.

“For this very night. The night where we take down the man who was destroying this club, destroying the name we’ve spent the last five decades trying to build into a good, reputable name,” Tryke says.

“What now?” someone hollers.

“Now, you name a new Pres,” Sticks says. “Tomorrow, noon, clubhouse common room. Those wishing to make their bid, prepare. Those with nominations, you’ll have your chance to voice them and three hours to decide. At which point, the Veterans will vote on your nominations and if need be, the members will have their chance.” Sticks puffs out his chest a little. “Then tomorrow night, we party,” he announces and there is a collective cheer among the men, some fist to chest pounding. Some people approach Tryke. I can’t hear the things they’re saying, but no one seems disappointed to see him. It makes me smile. Everything has fallen into place.

Too bad Kiwi isn’t awake to see it.

The crowd disburses. Bikes fire up and roar off down the street until there’s just our little circle left. I’m still sitting on the ground with Kiwi in my arms. Her guns are on the ground at my side. “We have a problem,” Pixie finally says to me.

“We didn’t want to let the others know, but we don’t have Gunnar,” Big Daddy shares.

“We found the boy alone in the warehouse,” Tryke says.

“Where the hell is he?” I growl.

There’s a collective shrug among the men standing before me. “What about Rooster’s house? The money?” I ask.

That’s when I notice Whistler, and a couple of the Tucson guys are missing from the circle. “We sent Whistler in to collect,” Tryke says. “We have it.”

“All of it?”

“Aside from the stacks we caught Gunnar stealing on the tape, yeah, it’s all there,” Big Daddy confirms.

“Now we just need to find Gunnar,” I growl.

“We’re working on it. Sketch has some of his guys on it too,” Sticks says. “Get her inside, tuck her in. She’s gonna be out for a while.”

“I think I should take her to the hospital,” I say softly.

“She’ll be alright,” Tryke says. “Mom used to faint when shit got too real, too.” He smirks. “Just let her sleep it off, she’ll be fine in the morning.”

“God, I hope so,” I grumble and awkwardly try standing when Tryke comes over and scoops Kiwi into his arms. “Thanks,” I tell him.

He smiles wider at me and I stand up. I take her back and he opens the front door. I carry her down the hall and lay her on my bed while Tryke stands at the door. I carefully remove her vest, her corset isn’t as easy, but I manage. I leave her topless and then pull off her boots and jeans. Leaving her in only her underwear. I kiss the top of her head. “I’m so proud of you,” I murmur.

Reluctantly, I leave her to sleep it off and follow Tryke out to the living room. “You really love her?” he asks me.

“More than anything in the world since she was three.”

“That’s gross, man.” He scowls at me.

“It wasn’t like that, and you know it.” I shoulder check him.

“Take good care of her and we won’t have issues.” His voice is soft, but definitely threatening in his Tryke way.

“I’m gonna marry that girl one day,” I tell him.

He busts out laughing. “You said the same shit when she was born and we were nine.”

I laugh with him, “I knew it then.”

He holds out his hand and I take his forearm and he takes mine before we bump chests. “You didn’t have to come out to them,” I tell him. “You could have crawled back to your hole and they wouldn’t have been the wiser.”

“Yeah, well, I feel better about it and I really fucking hate this haircut,” he laughs.

“The scar?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “It was my own fault,” he mumbles. “I could have it removed or reduced, but I kind of like it.”

“The chicks dig it,” I tease him.

He laughs and we leave the house, locking it up as tight as we can.

“I want someone on the house,” I say when we rejoin the guys outside.

Big Daddy cocks his head toward the shadows where Axel is sitting on his bike. One of our highest ranked Veterans and the next in line for Sergeant-at-Arms, should I vacate the position. “We trust him?” Pixie says.

“Implicitly,” Tryke adds. “He’s the one responsible for my being alive. Not to mention half the shit Sketch has to take out Rooster.”

I concur with his assessment just as someone’s phone rings. Big Daddy pulls his phone out, answering it. “Whistler, what’s doin’?” he asks.

He shakes his head. “Fuckin’ Christ, alright.”

“What’s up?” I ask when he disconnects the call.

“We got nothing on Gunnar. No clue where he took off to.”

“I might be able to help with that,” Tryke cuts in. “We have to go back to the house though.”

“Lead on,” Pixie says and we all mount our bikes. I can’t help my eyes roaming over Kiwi’s bike as I go for mine.

“What happened to Opie?” I ask.

“Whistler has him now. Looking for Gunnar.”

I cringe. Whistler got his nickname because he likes to whistle while he interrogates you. When the whistling stops, you’re dead.

I climb on my bike, looking back at the house again. It’s dark and quiet, no lights, no movement and I want nothing more than to be inside with her right now, but I have a job to do. I have to make sure she and my princess are safe, forever.