At the clubhouse, Bryce and I swung off our bikes nearly in unison, both running towards the front door. He glanced over at me, already pulling out his gun. “You ready?” he asked.
I nodded grimly. “I'm going first,” I told him. “If anyone's getting shot in here other than Emilio and his lackeys, it's going to be me.”
Bryce snorted. “You don't have to be the hero, Jake,” he said. “Besides, Devil's Route needs you. Halley needs you, and Cole needs you. If anyone's going to get shot in here, it's going to be me. Plus, you were just shot a few weeks ago, and I know that bullet wounds leave impressive scars, and chicks dig scars. Share the wealth, man.”
I couldn't help laughing a little at that. “Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes, even though I really didn't like the idea of him going first, but if he was going to insist that he went first, well, who was I to stop him.
I followed after him into the darkened clubhouse, reaching for the light switch and trying to think where Emilio might be hiding. To my surprise, the clubhouse was constructed almost exactly the same as our own clubhouse, and I spared a moment to wonder how that might have happened.
“You know the Holy Flames used to be part of Devil's Route, once upon a time, don't you?” Bryce asked, glancing back at me. “It was formed by one of the members of Devil's Route, who felt like we were dabbling a little too far with things beyond the law.” He grinned. “And now, here we are, fighting because the Holy Flames seem to think that they're above the law and we're here to bring them to justice.”
I wondered how I had never learned that before. But then again, having not been brought up in the motorcycle club like some of the other guys, there was a lot that I didn't know, things that they just took for rote. Still, that explained the similarities between the clubhouses. And, I supposed, why there were two heated rivals living so close to one another in the small town of Millhaven, California.
I tried to think like Emilio, but I wasn't sure just where the man would go. To his office? No, he had to know that we would look there first. But then again, he had led us straight back to his clubhouse without even really trying to get us off his track. That had been a pretty obvious move as well.
With a sinking heart, I wondered if it was a trap, if maybe he had men here waiting to ambush Bryce and me. Not that I really thought they cared all that much about Bryce, but if they wanted to take over the Devil's Route MC, there was no easier way than to leave the club without leadership. And my death would mean that Frank, Max, and I had all been killing within the month. But if it was a trap, when would he have set it up? And wouldn't he have cared that most of his club was dead out on the highway now? He didn't have enough people left to make things worthwhile, to really take over the Devil's Route MC.
No, he had to just be running scared and running back to the place that he knew. The clubhouse. His office.
I nudged Bryce towards where the offices would be, and sure enough, we heard a clatter. Bryce and I ducked behind a corner just as there was gunfire.
“Shit,” Bryce hissed.
“Did they get you?” I asked worriedly.
“No, but that was close,” Bryce said tersely. He peeked around the corner and fired a couple shots, and there was a pained shout from down the hall. He gave a satisfied grin and nodded. “Come on, we need to get closer,” he said. “They won't be so stupid as to peek out like that again.”
“How do you think we're going to get closer?” I asked. “If we try running down the hall, we'll be sitting ducks.”
“Sure,” Bryce agreed. Then suddenly, his eyes widened. “Oh jeez, I forget sometimes that you didn't grow up around the clubhouse with the rest of us. There's another way to get towards the offices. A back way. But we don’t use it very often since it goes through a bunch of other rooms and stuff. It's kind of like a secret passageway.”
I shook my head. “You had better not get yourself killed during all of this,” I told him, “because I am seriously going to need your expertise when I really take over the Devil's Route MC.”
Bryce laughed. “Yeah, I've always wanted to be some politician's wife,” he said, sticking his tongue out at me.
I always admired his ability to crack jokes when we were in situations like this. Already, I could feel some of my anxiety easing. “Come on, lead the way,” I told him.
We snuck down the hallways and eventually came to a narrow room that seemed as though it were between two walls. I frowned at Bryce. “Where exactly are we?” I asked in a low voice.
He put his finger over his lips, twisting around so he could see me. “If this is anything like the Devil's Route clubhouse, it's not very soundproof,” he said. “Major design flaw. Or intentionally done, possibly, since otherwise it would be entirely possible to have anyone sneak up and murder you.”
“Which is exactly what we're trying to do to Emilio,” I breathed.
“Yeah, well. Bastard has it coming to him,” Bryce said, his eyes getting a steely edge. “Frank and I were close too, you know. That's part of why you and I became such fast friends.”
“I remember,” I told him. And as much as I wanted to kill the man myself… “Look, you're in front. If you can put a bullet between his eyes, do it.”
“That should be your job,” Bryce protested. “After all, Frank was like a father to you. And then there was the whole kidnapping thing with Halley...”
“Bryce,” I said, shaking my head. “I'm telling you, it's your job. Put a bullet between that motherfucker's eyes. For me.”
Bryce stared at me for a long moment, as though he were trying to gauge how serious I was. But whatever he saw in my eyes, it made him nod in agreement. “With relish,” he said. “Let's go.”
We stormed into the office, and even though Emilio and his men clearly weren't expecting us to enter from the direction, they reacted quickly. The next thing I knew, there were bullets flying in every direction, and people crying out in pain. We all seemed to run out of bullets at the same time, though, and suddenly we were all just standing there, staring at one another, trying to take stock of who was injured and who wasn't breathing.
It looked like both of Emilio's men were dead, thankfully. The leader of the Holy Flames wasn't dead, if the rattling breaths issuing from his chest were anything to go by, but he was clearly seriously injured. I put one final bullet in my gun and shot him between the eyes, ending him, and, I hoped, ending the Holy Flames MC in its entirety.
Then, I looked over at Bryce.
“I'm fine,” he said, before I even had a chance to ask. He was clutching at his hand, though, and I could see a lot of blood seeping through the tee-shirt that he had wrapped around it. “It was good placement,” he joked weakly. “Back of the hand, all the girls are going to see this.”
I snorted. “That's it, though?”
“Yeah. You?”
I shook my head and looked down at myself. “I don't think I was hit,” I said, experimentally moving each limb. I grimaced a little. “Of course, the doctor's going to kill me because I'm pretty sure I pulled out the rest of the stitches in my leg, but … well, it could have been a lot worse.”
Bryce shook his head, admiration in his gaze. “Jake Ryce, you are one lucky son of a bitch,” he told me.
I snorted. “Well, it's not really that,” I said, shrugging a little. “Just, they never had a chance to really aim. We went into this all so fast. It was the same as the thing on the highway.” I snorted. “It's the same as what I'm doing with this whole Halley thing. Maybe I'm just as stupid and reckless as Max was, just in a different way. I'm using blunt force and speed to surprise everyone and get the things that I want. I don't know.”
Bryce shook his head again. “You're definitely not Max,” he told me. “And if you don't want to tell that to the rest of the club, well. I'm not about to tell them myself.”
I smiled at him. “Thanks. It's good to know that you have my back, no matter what.”
“Yeah,” Bryce said. “I know that you'd do the same for me. Which is why right now I'm going to have you call an ambulance to take me to the hospital, and then I'm going to entrust you with the keys to my bike. I expect you to get it out of here before the authorities come, because the last thing I want to be doing when I have a busted-up hand already is going through the bureaucratic hoops to get my bike back once it's been found at a crime scene!”
I snorted and caught the keys that he tossed to me. “I can do that,” I told him. “I'll keep it safe until you're ready to ride with me again.”
“Good,” Bryce said. “Now, ambulance.”