Chapter Ten

 

Cat watched Blood as they all sat to eat. He was a man back once again in his natural habitat, back within the clubhouse he obviously felt at home in. Back again with the men of this MC he’d pledged his loyalty to, brothers he loved and trusted. It was as if she was seeing him clearly for the first time, and she studied him closely. The way he joked with them, the way he felt at home and totally relaxed in their company…It was eye opening. Yes, he was like the other MCs she’d been exposed to, and at the same time, he was nothing like them. She also observed how respected he was within his club. He held some rank or importance, it seemed.

He caught her eyes on him across the table as he reclined back in his chair, pushing his empty plate away, and he winked.

The other men were still going back for second helpings.

“I went and saw Carlos Santana Saturday night. He was amazing,” one of them said between bites.

Another slapped a spoonful of coleslaw on his plate. “If I cared what you did on the weekend, Bam-Bam, I’d put a gun in my mouth.”

“That so, Easy? Well, what’s stopping you?”

“And if I gotta hear you drone on about another 90’s hair band, Easy, I’m gonna eat a bullet,” Blood retorted.

“Who is Carlos Santana?” the twenty-something Prospect asked and everyone at the table went silent.

Bam-Bam turned on him. “Oh, now you’re just trying to piss me off.”

Sandman scrapped his plate clean. “Can we get this meeting going? I’ve got to get out of here soon.”

“Oh, like you’ve got plans.” Blood laughed at him.

“Okay, enough, boys. Sandman’s right,” Mooch said.

“That’d be a first,” Easy teased him.

Sandman reached over and, with a flick of his fingers, dumped the man’s plate upside-down onto his lap.

Easy looked down. “You fucker.”

“Meeting’s in twenty minutes. Got something to take care of first,” Undertaker said, standing. He glanced at Blood and jerked his head toward the door. Blood nodded and turned to Cat. “Got something to do. Stay here with the girls.”

He rose from the bench, as did the rest of them.

Cat’s hand closed around his forearm, stopping him. His eyes dropped to her hand, then lifted to her eyes. She knew where he was going and the reason. They stared at each other, a thousand questions in her look. None he would answer, and she understood that, too, but she had to try. “She’s my sister. Let me talk to him. Please.”

“She is your sister. But what happens here in this clubhouse, babe, that’s club business.”

“Blood—”

“I won’t be long.” With that he pulled her hand from his arm, stepped over the bench, and strode out of the room along with the rest of the men.

 

***

 

Blood followed Undertaker into the room. There was only one piece of furniture—a chair—and Dax was cuffed to it. The other men shuffled in. Sandman stood on one side with his arms folded, Mooch stood on the other side. Bam-Bam, Mud, and Easy stood around the room.

Undertaker nodded to Blood to take the lead on this interrogation. It wasn’t anything new to him. He was the club’s Enforcer and, therefore, handled a lot of beatings.

He stepped forward.

Dax’s eyes lifted to him, and Blood could see he was already shaking in his boots. He had a black eye from earlier.

Blood slammed his fist into the side of Dax’s face, sending his head spinning to the side. He had no problem doing it—not when he knew this slime ball had been responsible for leading the Death Heads straight to Cat’s door and for whatever horror her sister, Holly, was currently enduring.

Blood had seen a picture of the girl at Cat’s apartment—a small framed picture of the two of them together. He’d slid it in his pocket while Cat was stuffing some clothes in a bag. It was obvious the two were sisters. The girl was young and sweet and innocent looking. He doubted they’d killed her; not a pretty girl like her. They’d find a use for her. Sell her. Trade her out for a favor. Put her on the streets. But the thing Blood didn’t understand was why they’d taken her before they even knew he and Cat had escaped.

He was about to find out. He was sure Dax knew more than he’d claimed to know at Cat’s apartment.

“Please,” the asshole begged. “I told you everything.”

Blood hit him again. Dax’s lip split open, and red splatter flew all over Sandman.

“Goddamn it, man.” Sandman stared down at the stains on his vest.

Blood grinned at him. “You might want to move, dumbass.”

 

***

 

Half an hour later, the club filed into the second floor room they used for Church, the club’s weekly mandatory meetings. But this wasn’t their usual Friday night meeting. This was an emergency meeting that had been called specifically to deal with the Death Heads situation and to discuss what they had just learned from their “guest” locked up in the downstairs back room—a guest who was currently being guarded by a Prospect.

The men settled into chairs, some standing shoulder to shoulder along the wood-paneled walls. The room was crowded with leather-clad full-patched members incensed at the invasion of Evil Dead territory by another MC, as well as the fury they felt that one of their own had been taken and held all this time.

There were grumblings all around the room, most consisting of threats, vowing revenge and all the different ways “those motherfuckers were going to pay.”

Undertaker slammed the gavel against the table and barked, “Settle down!”

The room came to an abrupt dead silence. Other than the creaking of leather vests in old worn executive chairs, they could have heard a pin drop.

“This meeting shall be called to order. We’ll dispense with the usual roll call and get right to it. First up, Bug, I want you to get on the phone with our friends in Texas. Find out everything you can about the Death Heads movements. Find out the numbers still in town, how many they think may have left town on a run, and any intel they can get. I don’t care if it’s just word on the street or unconfirmed rumors, I want to hear it.”

“Yes, sir.” Bug nodded from his place toward the end of the long table.

“Wicked, Big Boy, Sly, I want you three to concentrate on our snitches in town. Get everybody on the look out for those motherfuckers. Find out any talk they’re hearing. Make sure they’re suitably motivated. That goes for all the hang-arounds, too. Don’t divulge too much, but make sure they know to be on the look out for any Death Head activity.”

There were several nods around the room.

An arm rose.

Undertaker acknowledged the man with a nod. “Tee Ray.”

“That sniveling cocksucker downstairs give up anything?”

Undertaker shook his head. “He doesn’t know shit. Apparently, he was trying to save his ass from a beating when he gave up the girls to the Death Heads. They had a disagreement about an accounting issue. Not the first time, according to him. Claims he doesn’t know why the Death Heads were in town. He was brought along to make some introductions to other drug connections, but he believes there was something much bigger in the works. There was talk of a meeting the MC was going to, but he doesn’t know the other players. He wasn’t told prior that they were coming to take the second girl he’d been left guarding. Said two guys showed up, took her without a word, and left. Only thing he knows is one of them got a call; he overheard part of it. Said he heard the guy reference the Quarter, and they’d be there in fifteen minutes. He wasn’t sure that was where they were headed or not.”

“What about Blood being taken?”

“He didn’t know shit about that except they had a guy who needed medical treatment. He cut the deal to offer up Cat, who’s a nurse. The sister just happened to be there. She was a bonus, not the target.”

“And now?”

“Now we find out what the fuck those assholes are doing in our town.”

Mud cracked his knuckles. “We need to get rolling ASAP and comb the city tonight.”

“We wait for a few hours to gather intel before we walk blind into a trap. Then we’ll move, make no mistake.” Undertaker glanced around the table receiving nods in agreement.

“Other chapters?” Easy asked.

“Put the word out to Mississippi and Alabama. We may need backup on this one.”

“Done.”

“Let the support clubs know to keep their eyes open, too.”

“You got it.”

Undertaker’s eyes swung to his Sergeant At Arms. “Double up security here at the clubhouse.”

“You want us on lockdown?” Bam-Bam asked.

“Not yet, but let’s open it up to any ol’ ladies and family who would feel safer here than at home.”

The man nodded. “I’ll pass the word.”

Undertaker looked around the room. “Any other questions?”

The room stayed quiet.

He slammed the gavel down. “Dismissed.”

The majority of the men shuffled out until only the club officers remained—Undertaker, Mooch, Blood, Bam-Bam, Easy, Mud, and Wicked.

Undertaker looked over at Blood. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Blood bit back.

“Bullshit.”

“I said I’m fine.” The two men stared at each other. Then Blood broke the silence. “I want to go down to the Quarter tonight and search for Cat’s sister.”

“No.”

“I can look for the Death Heads.”

“And end up taken again? No.”

“That won’t happen again. They caught me unaware. Now I know they’re here. And maybe they’re long gone.”

“We just discussed this in the meeting. We’re waiting on intel before we move.”

“I made a promise to Cat to help get her sister back.”

“A promise you shouldn’t have made. Your club comes first, in case you forgot.”

Blood stood. “I haven’t forgotten a damn thing, including the fact that I wouldn’t be alive if that girl hadn’t helped me. And I wouldn’t be free if she hadn’t stuck her neck out and made that call. She trusted me. I gave her my word. Or doesn’t that mean anything in this club anymore?”

Undertaker bolted to his feet. “Don’t you disrespect me or this club by suggesting that. Sit the fuck down.”

Blood took a seat.

Undertaker stared at him. His officers stayed quiet, their eyes connecting with a meaning that wasn’t lost on Blood.

Blood knew the conflict of the situation he was in, and he also knew the spot he was putting his President in, but he had to help Cat get her sister back and fulfill his debt to her, even though it might take time away from protecting his club.

This was a crucial time. He knew that. He saw the dichotomy, the conflicting demands on his time, but he knew he had to try. He just couldn’t bring himself to turn his back on Cat, the woman who had risked everything to save him. So his eyes met his President’s with clear determination and resolve. “You know I’m dedicated to this club. That’s never been in question, not once since the moment that Prospect patch went on my back and through all the years I’ve held a full patch. My loyalty and dedication have always been rock solid. You, more than anyone, know how much this club means to me. You know how much I’ve done for this club. Everything you’ve ever asked I’ve done without question, without hesitation. Now I’m asking for this one thing—give me one night to search for her.” He swallowed, the last word a hard one for him. “Please.”

Undertaker sat back in his chair, leather creaking as he did. He ran a hand over his mouth, and then stroked the back of his fingers along his beard as he studied Blood, contemplated all he’d said, and considered his request. Finally, he spoke. “One night. But you don’t go alone. Take Sandman with you, and keep in touch. I want hourly updates.”

“Done. Thank you.”

Undertaker jerked his chin to the door. “Get out of here.”

 

***

 

After Blood closed the door behind him, Mooch turned to his President. “What the hell was that about?”

Undertaker ran a hand over his mouth. “A whole lot of questions in his head he doesn’t have the answers to.”

 

***

 

Blood found Sandman out in the hall, leaning against the wall, just like he knew he’d be. Blood could always count on Sandman to have his back. The man probably knew exactly what Blood was in there requesting, and he was ready and waiting.

“Don’t think you’re going alone,” were the first words out of the man’s mouth, proving Blood’s thoughts were correct.

Blood nodded and laid his hand on Sandman’s shoulder. “Thanks, Brother. You ready to roll?”

“Ain’t I always?”

Blood shook his shoulder and continued down the hall toward the stairs. “Let me get Cat taken care of, and I’ll meet you outside.”

Two sets of boots tromped down the stairs.

Blood found Cat in the kitchen, cleaning up with the other women. He liked the fact that she pitched in. He stopped in the doorway and every eye turned toward him. Cat paused, her hand clutching a dishtowel, stilling the motion as she dried a plate.

He spoke to Mama Ray. “I’ll be out for a few hours. Take care of her for me.”

“She’ll be fine,” she said, her voice raspy from years of cigarette smoke and her arms elbow-deep in soapy water. “Go on, now.”

Blood’s gaze shifted to Cat, and their eyes held a moment. He lifted his chin to her in acknowledgement. She returned the gesture.

The side of his mouth lifted in what some might consider a tiny smile, at least for him. And then he turned and walked out to his bike where his brother waited.

He had just swung his leg over the seat, when Cat came dashing out the door. She stopped short, her eyes searching the dark until she spotted him in a sea of chrome shining in the moonlight.

“Get back inside,” he growled, not pleased she’d followed him.

Moving toward him quickly, she blurted, “Where are you going?”

“Club business.”

“Are you going to look for my sister?”

“Cat, get back inside. Not gonna say it again.”

Her hands landed on her hips in the classic “you’re not the boss of me” pose Blood was familiar with, but not often the recipient of.

“Don’t think you can order me around. You don’t own me.”

That had Blood swinging his leg off his bike and moving toward her with such speed it had her stepping back. He got right in her space, his large presence looming over her. “Until this is over, I do.” He pointed to the ground at his feet. “Here, on Evil Dead property, I’m responsible for you. How you behave reflects on me. I expect you to show respect to me, my brothers, and everyone else here. We clear?”

She looked pissed, and her chin came up, but she had the good sense to concede. “Crystal.”

“I made you a promise. I’ll do what I promised. What I won’t do is be questioned about it by you. I’ll let this little display go. This time,” he warned.

She stared back at him with fire in her eyes, but had the good sense to keep her mouth shut.

“Get inside. Now.”

Her jaw tightened, and Blood half expected her to argue, but she turned and did what she was told.

He got back on his bike and fired it up. He looked over at Sandman, who grinned back at him.

“Bitches, huh? Can’t live with ‘em, can’t leave ‘em on the side of the road.”

“Speak for yourself,” Blood growled as he roared out of the compound and onto the pavement, gunning the throttle.

Sandman followed, laughing as he let out a, “Yeehaw!” Gravel spewed up as he roared out of the lot and tore after Blood’s fading taillight.