Chapter
6
Black
~Sass~
Doll and I arrive at House of Ink Tattoo after we have breakfast. Jared is just getting in himself; he’s come in early for us. As excited as Doll is, I hope he has had his coffee.
Entering the building, I once again take in the red walls lined with the many posters of sketches and flash sheets of options.
“Ladies, it’s good to see you again,” Jared greets with his usual devilish grin.
Bikers, tattoo artists, or any other man with that badass persona and ink, what is it with the small smiles they can give you that make you turn to jelly? Those simple moments where they break the ‘tough guy’ mold for a moment makes women go stupid just like seeing a man with that V cut to his hip area. Not anymore, though; nope. The old Savannah would be flirting with Jared. Not a chance now. He’s hot, but I have a good thing with Nick; no need to push the edge of my boundaries.
Doll is practically jumping up and down in excitement. “I’m so ready, Jared. Let’s do this!”
“Hi, Jared. I hope all has been well with you,” I acknowledge him stiffly.
Being here reminds me of the ride. The ride that kept us safe while our club took losses. No, not our club, the club took losses—it’s not mine anymore.
Tank is in a coma, making the sacrifice of his safety for Doll and me. Shaking my head at the thought, I remind myself I have walked away. Nick is my world now and it’s safe.
The door behind us opens. Jared doesn’t open until noon—it’s just after ten—so no one should be coming in since this is a private appointment.
Turning to look behind us, I see the biggest vase of white lilies and red roses being brought in by a tiny lady with blonde hair pulled back into a bun. She sets the vase on Jared’s counter for body jewelry before looking at us.
“Hi, I’m looking for Savannah Perchton,” she states, looking around at each of us.
“That’s me,” I squeak out in surprise.
“Sign here, please. These are for you.” She hands me a small clipboard with delivery sheets on it.
“They’re beautiful!” I exclaim while scribbling my name on her paper. I have never been given flowers before.
Unable to stop the smile spreading over my face, I hand her back the clipboard.
Doll is immediately by my side as I pull off the card. She’s smiling a full blown, eat-up-all-the-love-and-happiness smile at me. Yes, my best friend may prefer me to be with a biker, but she understands me and really only wants me to be happy.
I read the card and my stomach fills with butterflies.
I’m sorry for last night, Savannah.
I miss you. Have fun.
Come home soon and be safe.
You are my heart.
I love you.
Love, Nick
Sighing, I realize there are many things about my life that are uncertain right now. Without a shadow of a doubt, however, this man loves me. That’s the one thing I do know with one hundred percent certainty.
Jared calls for Doll to come back to the room he has all set up to tattoo her. While they are settling in, I make a quick call to my lover.
“Hello, Savannah,” he answers with a slight sadness to his tone.
“So, I’m here at Jared’s and the most beautiful flowers were delivered to me.” I smile, hoping it comes through on the phone. I need him to know this means a lot to me. “No one has ever sent me flowers before. Thank you.”
“I’m sure the flowers aren’t nearly as beautiful as you are, love. I’m sorry for being childish last night. You enjoy your time with your girlfriend. I’m glad to see you are where you said you’d be, though. Enjoy the flowers, enjoy your trip, and come home to me soon.” His tone is laced with a stern undercurrent, lacking the feel of being genuine. I hear voices in the background, reminding me he is at work.
“I know you have work to do. I just wanted to say thank you and I miss you, baby.”
“I love you, Savannah. Call me tonight, love.”
“I will.” And with that, we hang up.
A few hours later, Doll is freshly inked and smiling like a Cheshire cat. After our quick goodbyes to Jared, we are on our way back to the hotel to pack up. Once we check out, we load everything in her Camaro. With no space left, my flowers are riding safely but uncomfortably in my lap. This is going to be a long ride from Tennessee to Doll’s and then back home.
“The flowers are beautiful. Nick is really the romantic one, huh?” Doll asks, shaking me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah, he is,” I reply, unable to keep the smile from forming.
“Hotels with soft, fluffy towels and linens, you said. Was that the trip to Charleston he took you on?”
“It’s everywhere we go. He always upgrades to make sure we are in a full suite. Once a month, he also schedules a spa day for me. I get the full treatment; a massage, waxing, facial, manicure, pedicure and my hair washed, dried and styled. He usually takes me out to dinner afterwards, too. I know he’s not what we’re used to, but he’s really sweet and charming.”
“Charming, huh? Oh, Prince Charming, save me from those Hellions and we can ride off in the sunset on your white horse,” Doll jokes in a swooning voice.
“I know. Who would’ve thought it for me, right?”
“I can see the compromise now… you can have the black picket fence if he gets one of those little yappy dogs or some shit.”
“Oh, Doll, stop it. Nick doesn’t want pets; they would leave hair everywhere. Besides, he wants to travel, and that would be something to have to board or take care of while we’re away. And no picket fences; black, white or otherwise. Nick loves living on the beach; we don’t need a fence.”
“Travel plans made yet?”
“When he finishes the project he’s working on, we are going away for a weekend. I don’t know where. It’s a surprise, he says.”
“All joking aside, I’m happy for you, Sass.”
~Tank~
“This isn’t a conversation we’re gonna have on the phone, Thorn. You wanna talk business, get your ass over here, and we’ll talk. And don’t send your crew. Given what’s gone down, I meet you or we don’t do business,” Roundman says. To whom, though, I am not sure. “Figure it out and get back to me with a date.”
There is a pause.
“Desert Ghosts on the phone again?” Danza asks, his voice laced in annoyance.
“Yeah, they want a transport contract. Given the losses we faced after Delatorre, they will either come here to meet and negotiate or we won’t take on their packages.”
Delatorre. Felix Delatorre. His name burns through my body as the memories flood me.
The longer Doll has to stay away, the more on edge Roundman becomes. His patience is wavering after we’ve previously raided four other empty buildings that were all set ups to keep us off Delatorre’s trail.
However, this time, we have solid information on him. Roundman put the word out that he was serious about coming after Delatorre, forcing him to go underground. After putting our guys on his warehouse for twenty-four-seven surveillance, we know Delatorre hasn’t left the building in three days. It’s like Roundman has always said, put your enemy in a position to be backed into the corner, drive them into the hole, and then flush them out.
According to our guy, we have on the inside, Delatorre has his entire production in this warehouse. The drugs being sorted, prepped, and packed in one locked room. The money stored in various safes placed in rooms turned to offices.
Since the threat was placed on Delatorre, he isn’t allowing anyone to leave. They sleep in rotations on bunk beds set up wall-to-wall in three rooms.
He was a day late and dollar short on his lock down, though. We were able to turn a few of his guys and gather information. Yeah, we have his own people ratting him out to us. To minimize the risk, we have one guy we communicate with. Communication with our guy has been hard, but we’ve managed. Those guys are idiots. They’re rats. We have no intention of letting them live, either, but the promise gives us the information we need.
Outnumbered and all, Roundman makes the arrangements to storm the building. When the call comes in from Tripp that he killed Pablo in the men’s bathroom while Doll was literally in a different restroom across the entryway, Roundman calls the sermon.
“Balls to the walls, boys. We go in and kill ‘em all. I don’t give a shit. You find Delatorre, though, and you hold him for me. I take him to the ground. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll watch that fucker take his last breath.”
As soon as we dismiss, we pack and get on the road. The plan is simple and bold. We know Delatorre has a video conference at eleven a.m. that will keep him in his office. Using cargo vans, we’re going to pull up to the outskirts of the warehouse and unload. We brought twenty-two of our guys, yet our Intel on the inside says we’re up against forty or more. We have markers we could call in for back up, but Roundman wants to make a personal statement. Delatorre has threatened every Hellion woman, but he’s targeted Doll, going so far as to place cameras in her house to watch her and Sass. The man has more balls than brains.
For three days, we watch from the shadows. Every detail becomes committed to memory as we plan our moves. Knowing we are going in as the underdog adds to the adrenaline coursing through each of us. These are my brothers, not in blood, but in life and in death. Some of us may not make it out, however we stand together and fall together.
We have surrounded the building, each of us armed. Shoot first, ask no questions later. The fuckers inside picked the wrong team to play for. Roundman gives the order, it’s go time.
Pearl advances first, taking out the guard at the back door by silently snapping his neck. Yes, in broad daylight, Pearl moves his way through the shadows of the building, seeking cover behind trash bins at the back of the warehouse as he makes his approach. Reaching the guard, he swiftly moves behind him, grabs his head and twists. The man only has enough time to grab at Pearl’s arms before it is done and the first one drops.
Pearl, named for his shiny appearance, has no visible tattoos and is obsessed with oral hygiene. He is the only person I have ever known to literally brush his teeth after lunch to protect his pearly whites. He is always in clean jeans, polished boots, and put together immaculately. He is the pearl in the midst of all our outer rough shells. He also has the training for our stealth needs in this situation; able to keep even his killing clean.
A few of us follow the path Pearl clears, making our way to the back door. Around the sides, Coach is taking out his guard and moving his men in.
Carver, who normally stays on the road for transports, makes his way to his side of the building. Living up to his name, he eliminates the guard with a quick cut of the throat. With that done, we have taken over the sides and rear now.
The whistle comes through then the pop, pop, pop, pop sounds as the four front guards are taken out before they can figure out where we are and react. Yes, we’re here, fucker!
Rushing through the back door, I follow Bull—Uncle Kenny—inside. Rapid fire sounds around us as we storm through. Chaos encloses us as Delatorre’s men scramble to grab weapons and return fire.
Continuing to take out his men one at a time, we make our way deeper into the building, the concrete floors causing the sounds to echo further around us. The open space fills with the bodies of Delatorre’s crew as they get taken out.
Four doors line the right wall, opening to rooms and offices. Two by two, our guys pair up to take each room, looking for Felix Delatorre. Perry moves to the three offices lining the left wall, yet before he can open the first door, shots come through it. He is hit and goes down. With no time to tend to him, Coach fires back as he enters the room.
Roundman rushes into the second door to the left, and I look over as Delatorre’s face lifts in recognition. He is standing in front of his desk, obviously fumbling to get his weapon.
“You used my daughter to try to control me, but the Hellions control the chaos that surrounds us. So now you pay the price. You make threats while I keep my promises. I told you it would be at my hand you’d go to the ground, and that day is here.”
Before Delatorre utters a sound, the shots fire as Roundman puts two bullets in his chest. Delatorre stumbles back, falling against his desk. Walking over to him, Roundman leans down, Delatorre’s blood outlining the floor around his boots now.
Placing his Glock to Delatorre’s forehead, Roundman takes in the man that once threatened his daughter. “Go ahead and breathe your last breath. My Doll never should’ve made your radar. Now, you’re in mine. I’ll see you in Hell, fucker.”
Delatorre’s body bleeds out from the wound to his chest as Roundman pulls the trigger, sending the final bullet to his brain.
As I stay with Roundman, Bull moves to the last office on this side. The guard is ready for him, though. I watch helplessly as my uncle, the man who stepped in as my father-figure when I had no one, jerks back as each of the four shots fired hit him in the chest and gut.
Forgetting my club Prez, who is taking on two guys rushing us from behind, I move to Bull. The whizzing sound doesn’t register as the fierce burn cuts through my abdomen from the bullet finding its way inside me. Falling to my knees, I forget the gunman in the doorway momentarily. Adrenaline, fear, and emotion run rampant through me, and I forget that I have been hit.
Pulling my uncle to my lap, the piercing burn of the second bullet cuts through my shoulder, reminding me I am in danger. Looking up, I face the man who I am pretty sure has killed my uncle and just shot me. Pulling my gun, I aim, and without hesitation, I fire. The gunman releases another round that lands in my gut. The sting of pain is indescribable as I watch my bullet take him down between the eyes. Retribution is mine for taking my family.
Leaning over my uncle not wanting him to take another bullet, I try to shield him. I watch as my blood gushes out and mixes with his. My jeans soak up the red liquid as it surrounds us both. Bull is gone. His eyes are open. He is looking out, but not seeing anything, void of life. I reach my hand up, closing his eyelids as I whisper, “Forever ride in eternity, Bull.”
My hands are shaking. My body is weak from blood loss. Before I can move, another of Delatorre’s men stands over me, holding a struggling Amy Mitchell at gunpoint.
As I raise my weapon to him, he moves his gun on me. The trembling taking over, I fire. The shot hits his arm, a miss. Taking advantage, he fires again.
I hear Amy Mitchell scream just before everything goes black.
Darkness. Black. I am engulfed in it. The memory is slipping again. I can’t pull out. Bull is gone.
Feeling the pull to let go, feeling the loss cut entirely too deep, I give up the fight and let sleep consume me.