Chapter Fifteen

Cullen

On the way to the clubhouse, I stopped in at The Wall, just to have a beer and gauge what the rumor mill was spurting out. Zain was there, had just gotten back from a shift at the garage, and he and I ended up talking for a while, since he was the one with the inside scoop on what the Fury was up to.

“Still quiet,” he said to me with a shrug, spinning bottle caps on the bar. “Never heard them so quiet before. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Means trouble, you think?”

Vera, a tight piece of ass who was the bartender at The Wall most nights and Zain’s main action—mostly because she gave us free drinks—refilled our shot glasses with tequila without us asking. Zain winked at her and said, “Nah. You never know with Slade. I mean, Blaze was a loose cannon, but Slade’s even more fucked in the head. He alternates between touched and just good old, straight-up batshit.”

“Yeah?” I tossed back the shot and signaled to Vera for another one. And this was the guy I was going to be having a nice, friendly conversation with? Couldn’t wait.

“Hey. Thought you were going to meet with him. Did you ever get in touch with him?”

“Yeah. For the last time. I’m gonna. Gonna give him a call tonight and set it up.” I punched him. “Geez, fucking Christ, you guys nag worse than a bunch of bitches on the rag.”

He grinned at me and popped a handful of peanuts into his mouth. “Speaking of bitches. I hear you have one at home at the famous McKnight bachelor pad. Isn’t that against your rules?”

Holy hell, news about me did not miss anyone. I thought of Grace, all hot and gorgeous in my bed, the way her skin felt under my touch, the way she looked, curled up in my sheets. A pretty little dream, one I couldn’t wait to wake up to. “Yeah. An ex. Just visiting.”

“Gotcha.” He raised an eyebrow and continued feeding himself peanuts. I got the feeling he didn’t believe me. Change the subject, Cullen.

“So, back to Slade. You think he’ll shut me down? You think he won’t want to talk it out?”

Zain slumped over the bar. “See, that’s the thing with Slade. You just can’t fucking read him. He likes to be the mystery man. Leaves you guessing.”

The prospects for our phone call were looking bleaker by the moment. “Yeah? So when you were on that side . . .what were your dealings with him?”

“Didn’t have much interaction with him at all. You know, never around much but when he was around he was too important to associate with any of us new or potential Fury. Just heard from everyone he was a bad bitch, and to stay away. You didn’t want to piss in his Cheerios, that’s for sure.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Sounds great.”

“Yeah. Like there was this one time. He came in, all quiet, like it was just another day. Then he grabbed a pool cue and fucked up another Fury. I mean, left him bleeding on the fucking floor in pieces. Punctured his lung, broke nearly all his ribs, just went off on him for like twenty minutes straight, and no one dared stop him. Guy nearly died.” He shook his head and exhaled. “Come to find out Slade’s girl was fucking around with him, and he’d done worse to her, at home. Practically killed her.”

Reasonable fucker. I sucked in a breath. Yeah. This little talk was not going to go over well. But I still had to try. I’d promised Hart and Zain I would give them the chance, and I still wasn’t convinced we needed to launch into an all-out war.

I checked my phone and slipped off the stool. Shit, I was going to be a lot later than I told Grace. I’d said only an hour, but I’d spent more than an hour shooting the shit with Zain.

She knew me. She knew I was never on time for anything.

Though I had to be out of my mind. I had her waiting at home for me. Sexy, fucking beautiful, everything I could possibly want. In my bed. I didn’t know how I managed to stay away.

“Going to the clubhouse now,” I told Zain, pulling out my wallet and dropping a couple twenties on the bar. “Thought I’d see what was going on and make the call from there. You coming?”

He grabbed his helmet. “Yeah.”

The two of us went outside, got on our bikes, and set out toward the pier. When we got to the warehouse, I saw Hart’s bike there, as well as a few bikes of some of the other guys. As I climbed off my bike, there was a stiff wind coming off the ocean, and what looked like a storm blowing in. Just as we were opening the door to the clubhouse, lightning lit up the sky.

The clubhouse was, as usual, hazy with cigarette smoke. Led Zeppelin wafted from the speakers, almost drowning out the sound of pool balls clacking together.

“Hey!” Hart called to me, looking up from his game of pool as I fist-bumped the other guys inside. I’d been here only a few days before, but it felt like I’d been gone forever. Before Grace, I used to come to the clubhouse every day. This place was probably more my home than the mansion ever was.

Hart pointed a finger toward the kitchen. I peeked into the small room and noted the package he’d mentioned on the phone, which he’d left on the counter for me. It was about the size of a helmet and wrapped in craft paper. Probably some parts I’d ordered for the cars. I had other business to deal with first and lit up a cigarette.

We had a landline attached to a pole in the kitchen area and I headed for it to make my call. Zain and Hart came up close, wanting to hear the conversation. Hart gave me a piece of paper, with the number written on it. I dialed, dragging on my smoke as I waited for someone to pick up.

On the fourth ring, when I thought it was going to voicemail, someone said, “Talk to me.”

I squeezed my opposite ear closed so I wouldn’t hear Robert Plant’s screeching “Whole Lotta Love.” I shot Zain a look and he turned down the music. I traded a glance with Hart as I said, “Hey. This Slade?”

“Yep. Who am I talking to?” His voice was smooth. Deep. In control.

“Cullen.”

“Cullen.” He said it like one would say Herpes. “I’ve heard about you. Bastard who killed Blaze and four of my men. Am I right?”

“You got your information wrong, Slade,” I said, straddling a stool in front of a 70’s orange laminate kitchen counter and pulling an ashtray over. “Blaze wasn’t playing by the rules. Kidnapping an innocent girl? We couldn’t let that slide. You gotta know that.”

He snorted. “I’ll give you that. He didn’t get much in the brains department, ol’ Blaze. I was just listening to a little bit of The Fritz on the radio. Your daddy sure could play, man. I’m a guitar man myself. You got any of that talent?”

“No,” I muttered. My father had talent, but I’d known from a young age I wanted to be nothing like Brent McKnight. Never even picked up a guitar. “Wasn’t that lucky.”

“Ah, too bad. So what is the leader of the goddamn Steel Cobras doing, calling me on this fine night?” he said. It sounded like he was chewing on something.

Cocky asshole. I could just see him, sitting on his fucking throne.

I took another drag, choosing my words carefully, thinking of all the intel Zain had given me on this crazy bitch. “I think now’s a good time for the two of our clubs to see if we can’t find some common ground. There’s plenty of Aveline Bay for all of us, and I want you and I to hash it out. See what we can do.”

There was silence. Then, he laughed, long and hard. “You mean, peace and harmony, sixties hippie shit?”

“Yeah.”

He said, smoothly, “I like the way you think, man. You know. We lost some men last month with the business that went on, including Blaze. I was just telling the guys it was needless shit. It didn’t have to happen.”

He sounded reasonable. I felt good about this. “Yeah, man. So name the time and place. I’ll be there.”

Suddenly, thunder rumbled overhead, the walls of the warehouse shaking. “Just us two?”

“Yeah. No need to involve anyone else. Let’s just sit down and have a few beers.”

“All right. Then let’s do Rocky’s.” Rocky’s was a bar downtown, on neutral turf. “Say, tomorrow at eight?”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll be there, Cullen my man. We lost five men, so I can’t promise you this’ll fix things. But, I can promise you the Fury ain’t going anywhere.”

“Understood.” I cut the call and looked at the guys. They all had surprised looks on their faces, like they’d expected the call would erupt in a shouting match. I was pretty surprised myself. Hadn’t thought it’d go that smoothly. I thought I’d get a lot more shit than I had. Especially since we’d killed five of their guys.

“We got a meeting,” I said, stubbing out the end of the cigarette. “Tomorrow at eight. Rocky’s.”

Zain punched his palm. “Shit. I didn’t think he’d bite, truly. Can I go with?”

I snorted at him. Of all the Cobras, they hated Zain most of all, since he was once almost one of them. “I’m going alone.”

“You think that’s smart?” Hart asked, running a hand through his ruddy hair.

“It’s fine. That’s what we agreed on. I ain’t worried.”

Hart let out a short laugh. “Since when do the Fury ever play by the rules? Honor doesn’t mean nothing to them.”

I threw up my hands. He was right. But just because it didn’t mean anything to them, it didn’t mean I was just going to let the Cobras code go. “I’m not going to worry about that until there’s something to worry about. Right now, we’re just two guys, going out for beers. That’s it.”

Hart shot me a doubtful look and crossed his thick, tattooed arms. Fine. I’d let him and the others wait in a parking lot nearby, if it’d make them feel better.

Then I looked at my phone. Seven o’clock. Hell, I’d now been gone for over four hours. I wasn’t scared of this Slade asshole who’d nearly impaled a guy on a pool cue because I’d seen what a livid Grace could do, and it wasn’t pretty.

Shit shit shit. I’d go pick her up a really nice dinner. Then I’d take her into bed and by the end of the night she’d have screamed my name so much that she’d have forgotten I was late. “I got to go, guys,” I announced to them, pocketing my phone. “I got plans.”

I grabbed my helmet and made toward the door, for the first time hearing what sounded like armies marching across the corrugated metal roof. Fuck, the rain was coming down. Out the window, all I could see was a wall of gray.

“Wow, man,” Hart breathed, peering out the window. “Look at it coming down. Never seen it rain this hard. You going out in that?”

I couldn’t remember the last time it’d rained. The roads would be slick as hell, not to mention I probably wouldn’t be able to see shit. Yeah. I’d wait for the rain to slow. Grace would understand. She’d bitch, but eventually, she’d understand.

Then I looked over on the counter and saw the package.

Setting down my helmet, I walked toward the counter and picked it up. Tossed it in my hands. It was surprisingly heavy. Shook it a little. Something inside shifted.

Our parts didn’t come in like this. They were clearly marked by the vendor. That set off alarm bells in my head. But like I said, I wasn’t going to worry until there was something to worry about.

I studied the name on it. The name and mailing address had been hand-written in block lettering. No return address. No shipping information. So it hadn’t come from the post, or UPS, or FedEx. “Who dropped this off?” I asked Hart.

He shrugged. “It was at the door when I got here.”

Wiping at my eye, I went to get a knife to rip it open when I suddenly heard something. Beeping. Like a timer. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Shit.

I brought the package to my ear.

The rhythmic sound was definitely coming from inside.

And I doubted someone had sent me a timer as a gift.

“Fuck,” I breathed, sliding the package onto the table and dropping the knife. I backed toward the door. “Everyone out! It’s a fucking bomb!”

They all looked up at once, and then they began to stampede toward the door. I threw it open, into a wall of rain, just as another jagged slice of lightning lit up the sky and thunder began to rumble.

A bomb. A fucking bomb. No wonder that asshole Slade was so agreeable. And I was playing right into his hands.

I motioned for them all to hurry, shouting at them to get their asses moving, when I looked through the steady downpour to the parking lot and saw a taxi slowing to a stop at the end of the docks.

Rain soaked my face, matting my hair against my eyes as I stood in the open door and watched Grace slip out of the taxi, holding Ella in one arm, a pink jacket tenting her head.

Grace. Fuck. What the fuck was she doing here?

She knew not to come to church. I’d told her to stay away.

But since when did Grace ever do a fucking thing I told her to?

My chest squeezed. I gritted my teeth as she bumped the door closed with her hip and started to run my way.

I waved at her, but she had the jacket over her face, shielding me from her view. I shouted as loud as I could, but the rain raged around us, drowning out my voice.

She kept coming.

Fear knotted in my chest. Too close. This was bad.

I let go of the door and broke into a run, waving both arms at her and shouting my fucking head off.