“Is there anything else you need?” Sandy asks me, bringing me out of my internal ponderings.
“No, Sandy. Thank you though,” I painfully respond. No amount of assistance from him will help me at the end of the day. He’s done enough for me and I appreciate it with all of my heart. He takes a chance every time he does something kind of being on the receiving end of their ruthless retaliation.
I will never be able to show him how thankful I am for all that he’s done for me. I lay back on my bed and close my eyes. I let sleep overtake me, my body needs this to heal.
My eyes pop open when it sounds like a herd of elephants are stomping around above me. I look over and see Sandy draw his gun, he gives me a warning look before he informs me, “Get under your bed. Don’t make a single peep, I need to go see what’s going on.” He hauls ass away from his post and I slowly get down to the ground and crawl under the bed as instructed.
Jeremiah has made many enemies throughout the years; I can’t help but wonder which one of those has come for payback.
Or, could it be?
No, I shake my head. It’s too soon, Shamus said I’d see him again before they made a move, it has to be an enemy with an ulterior motive. And there’s no way in hell I’m gonna allow myself to get captured by another evil entity before my man has a chance to come to my aid and take me home.
To Stella.
To Ella.
To my new life.
Our new life.
A fresh beginning.
Chapter Eight
Shamus
The club is filled to maximum capacity as we charge in. We were prepared for this. We have men who are standing guard at the doors not allowing citizens to leave, we don’t need the cops called while we’re still here. We aren’t flying our colors; announcing who we are and who we’re associated with. Instead, we are actually hiding our faces behind covered masks. The only thing visible to the naked eye on us are our eyes and mouths. Our arms and hands are covered by long sleeves and gloves so that no tattoo descriptions can be given.
Most of us have full descriptive sleeves, and are extremely noticeable.
I scan the room, looking for Star, needing my eyes on her to ensure myself that she’s safe and sound. I don’t want her caught or placed in the middle of this fight. I wouldn’t put it past Jeremiah nor his cronies to use her as a human shield to protect themselves.
They’re cowards that way.
At least, that’s my observation.
With the loud base of music, no one heard our bikes rumbling as we pulled in. The floors are vibrating from the speakers as they work hard to fill the room with noise. Our hasty entrance has only caught the eye of the bartender and bouncer.
Both of them are a damn joke. They are both taking up residence at the bar, neither one of them jump up to take on our numbers. I notice the bouncer’s eyes scan around the room before he goes to pull out his walkie talkie, but before he has the opportunity to press the button on the side that will allow him to call out for help, Gunner shoots the damn thing right out of his hand.
Blood begins to spurt as he clutches it to his chest with a painful grunt and look plastered on his face.
Now the sound of the bullet leaving the chamber, draws attention from all around us. The music comes to a screeching halt as all eyes turn and land on us. We are a formidable force, scary as hell when we’re all together the way we are.
“Where’s Jeremiah?” Gunner shouts out. “We’re here to deliver his soul to his eternal maker, if everyone stays out of our way and hands him over, no one else will be hurt.” I roll my eyes because he’s full of fucking shit.
We won’t hurt any innocents who are here to enjoy their night, but we will take out every piece of scum who works for the man in question.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot movement in the darkest corner of the room. “You!” I holler out, pointing my gun in his direction. “Stop!” It’s then I notice his hand on a knob to a door that’s hidden from the unsuspecting eye. I wouldn’t have noticed it either if the curtain hadn’t been moved to the side, exposing it.
The man’s body freezes, his hand never leaves where it’s placed. But he does turn his head in my direction as he examines me, us, from head to toe. “Jeremiah isn’t here tonight,” he yells out to me.
“Where the hell is he?” I’m growing panicked because Star isn’t to be seen either. Has he done something to her, has he taken her out of here? Is he on to me, to us?
“Business meeting,” he informs me, still never looking away from us.
Smart man.
“Where’s Star?” His eyes widen in surprise when this question leaves my lips. “She’s mine and I’m here to collect her.”
He visibly slumps before saying, “Good. Follow me, she’s down here.”
I look over at Gunner who nods his head at me and proceeds to follow me. Country stays on his heels as he too follows.
The man swings the door open and goes down a long, steep stairwell. I keep my gun secure in my hand, not knowing if someone is going to jump out of the shadows and catch me off-guard.
I’ve lived too damn long to fall for that sort of trickery.
When we make it to the bottom of the stairwell, there are several cell-type living quarters. They each have a bed, dresser, nightstand and other pieces of furniture and things you’d expect to see in someone’s bedroom. I scan each one and notice that they each have a camping commode
