Damaged & Dangerous: The Sacred Hearts MC Book VI (4 page)

I didn’t know much about Lucky, other than he came by his
road name honestly. To hear it told, he was a crazy motherfucker with a
penchant for explosives and explosive devices. A cool hobby for sure, but
fuckin’ crazy as hell if you wanted to keep breathing and didn’t feel like
raining from the sky in nasty, wet chunks as your way of going out.

I took the left side of the door, while Corbin took right. I
glanced across the street to the house there and, satisfied that it was totally
abandoned, with the way the roof sagged in the center and how the windows were
either busted out or boarded, I gave Axe a nod. He heaved up a leg and smashed
his booted foot into the door by the lock and knob, and the whole thing gave
with a boom and a crash
much
louder than a dude in motorcycle boots
kicking in a door was capable of.

Gun smoke filtered through my facemask and burned my nose as
Axe fell backwards and slid head-first down the stairs, a hole bigger than my
fist in the center of his chest.

“Son of a bitch!” Corbin yelled and went in first, which was
good, because it put me right behind him. I raised my gun and double tapped him
right in the back of his fucking head.

“Clear!” I called and Lucky rounded the kitchen doorway. I
looked up at the shotgun hanging from brackets bolted to the ceiling.

“Really?” I asked pointing up to it. Lucky dropped the cord
in his hand leading to the pulley and trigger mechanism.

“Worked, didn’t it?” he grunted.

“Thirteen,” I said.

“Lucky,” he came forward and we grasped hands, “Thanks for
the warning.” He sniffed and looked down at Corbin, whose blood and brains were
leaking out onto the hardwood.

“This get you the rat?” I asked.

“All but a done deal now. Soon as Shelly gets back to us,
we’ll have proof in the puddin’ and the bitch will be all kinds of hosed.”

I nodded gravely, “You got neighbors we gotta worry about?”
I asked.

“Nope, that’s why I live out here, or I did before I went up
to help my folks. I been pretty much living at the club,” he wiped some sweat
off his upper lip. I nodded.

“Got some brothers coming to help with the mess?” I asked.

“Right here,” we heard from out the front door. Lucky and I
went to it. Trigger stared down at Axe, who was still breathing, or trying to. His
breath was coming in short, hurried gasps, sawing in and out of his ruined
lung. Trigger leveled his handgun right between Axe’s eyes and pulled the
trigger. The big man’s light colored eyes had gone cold and distant, the way a
lot of guys got when they killed. I’m sure mine had held the same look more
than a time or two.

“How the fuck you gonna spin this?” Revelator asked from
behind our SAA.

“You’re gonna hit me,” I said, “Make it look good. Then
you’re gonna send me back to ‘em with a message,” I knew I sounded grim, that
was because of the ass whoopin’ I was about to get.

“Oh yeah, and what would that be?” Rev raised a dark eyebrow
over his equally dark eyes. Of course, we were only operating by moonlight
right now, which was barely enough to see by. Couldn’t really tell you what his
eye color was other than brown. Wasn’t no way we were switching on lights, even
in a rundown half empty ‘hood, for me to check for sure.

I explained what Axe and Corbin had told me when we’d got
here. About how Griz was out for revenge, and fuck anyone who got in his way.
How he was taking his club name a little too literal and for real, at least the
‘Suicide’ part of it. Except that it wasn’t his life he was playing with. The
club was dividing on it, apparently. And Pig-Pen, who was Griz’s mouthpiece,
was too stupid to realize he was putting his ass on the line with every order
he issued.

Trig listened thoughtfully while Rev and Lucky started to
clean up. Finally he nodded.

“You understand we have to make this look good?” he asked. I
nodded.

“Just don’t hit me in the balls. I fucking hate that.” They
chuckled dryly and we all uncomfortably cast looks in the direction of the
dead.

“Where you gonna bury ‘em?” I asked.

“Were they decent guys?” he asked. I shook my head.

“No man, no they weren’t. But they weren’t
as bad
as
the rest of ‘em,” I said. Trig nodded.

“Does it really matter, then?” he asked. He had a point. I
shook my head and didn’t really have a whole lot of time to think about it,
because Revelator’s fist crashed into my face. I went down on Lucky’s dry, dead
lawn.

“
Motherfucker!”
I bitched.

“Sorry, Man, thought it might be better if you didn’t see it
coming.” Revelator lifted one of his hulking shoulders in a half-assed shrug.

“Well, you got my attention now!” I spit blood and tried a
couple of teeth in the back with my tongue. Nope, not loose, still solid. “Make
it look real. But I lose any fucking teeth, I’m kicking your ass when this is
up!” Rev grinned, flashing his chipped tooth in the front, and his fist crashed
into my cheekbone. It fucking hurt but I struggled back to my knees and heaved
a few breaths and stood my ground for probably the second worst ass kicking of
my life.

Dani…

I heaved the bag of trash from behind the bar up over my
head and, with a little jump, got it up and over the lip of the dumpster. I
turned at the sound of a lone bike turning into the lot and wondered what’d
happened. I saw the prospect leave with Axe and Corbin, but he was returning
alone and he was
clearly
holding himself all wrong. After three years
around men riding motorcycles, you recognized the cocky confidence with which
they held themselves when they rode. It was still present even when they were
relaxed and riding, this aura of
I’m a badass and I know it
surrounded
them at just about all times.

The exception to this rule? Pain. Which is exactly what
Pretty-boy, Thirteen, Chris was holding himself with.

“Thirteen, what’s wrong? Where’s Axe? Where’s Corbin? What
happened?” I called, making strides in his direction. He shut off his bike with
a groan and lowered the kickstand. He didn’t have his mask or goggles on, and
his face was red and purple and swelling. He bled freely from a cut on his
cheek and the corner of his mouth was crusted with dried blood as well.

I scooted under his arm and he leaned on me as he dismounted
his bike. He kept his left arm snapped in tight against his body, which told me
clearly that his ribs hurt. He was heavy, and we staggered for the door. And as
much as I loathed the man, I did the only thing I could. I opened my mouth and
screamed.

“
Pen! Pen, help!! Help me!
” It was Skid who popped
out the back door.

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck happened!?” he clattered down
the steel steps and took Thirteen from me. My shoulders sighed with relief as I
let the bigger, stronger man take over.

“What the fuck is going on out here!?” Griz bellowed. “You!”
he pointed at me, “Answer me!” I swallowed hard. I hated being the center of
attention, but I stepped up.

“I don’t know, I was taking out the trash and he rode in
alone. I saw him go out with Axe and Corbin a few hours ago, and here he comes
back alone and I could see he was hurting. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t
know what else to do.”

“Stop your fucking babbling woman, that’s enough. You’ve
patched guys up before, yeah?” he demanded. I nodded mutely, biting my lips
together. “Then get your ass in here and go to work bitch!” More club members
had come outside and they were helping get Pretty-boy to one of the couches. I
dashed back into the clubhouse and got the first aid kit, which was really a
big black and yellow plastic tool box, from the office.

Skid blocked my way briefly in the hall. “You did good, Kid.
Give ‘em a minute to talk to the prospect and find out what went down before
you show your face,” he suggested and gave me a worried sweep of his eyes. I
nodded and followed him to the edge of the common room. I kept back in the
shadows of the hall, near the bathroom doors, and waited until it was okay for
me to show myself. I listened to the men talk.

“What happened, Pretty-boy?” Pig-Pen growled.

“The place was one big fucking trap!” Thirteen gasped,
“Fucker had a shotgun rigged pointing at the door, Axe kicked it in and it blew
a hole clean through his chest! Corbin, he didn’t wait, he went right in and
the Bleeding Heart got the drop on him. I pointed my gun, but he had one
pointed at me and it was a standoff.” I could hear him panting through the pain
for a few moments while he tried to fight it back down so he could keep
talking.

“I think he got a call or a text off while he was hiding in
the kitchen, ‘cause the next thing I know, I got a gun barrel pressed to the
back of
my
skull and what was supposed to be three of us on one of them
became three of them on
me.
I thought I was a fuckin’ dead man for
sure,” he groaned.

“Why the fuck they let
you
live?” Pig-Pen demanded,
and it was a good question. I tucked myself against the wall and continued to listen.

“They wanted me to deliver a message. Told me to say that the
shit stops here and now. That they didn’t start this, but they damn sure were
gonna end it. Then they told me that once I’d delivered the message that they’d
better never see me in a Suicide Kings prospect’s cut or wearin’ your colors,
because they’d fuckin’ kill me.”

“You sayin’ you want out?” Griz asked.

“Fuck no! Fuck those fucking fucks, man!” He made a pained
sound and that was my cue.

“Where the fuck is Coon?” Pig-Pen demanded and I
materialized at his elbow.

“Here, I was just waiting for permission,” I murmured.

“Fuckin’ stupid-ass cunt,” he grated. He and the council, or
what there was of it here, moved off into the corner.

“Here, take these,” Skid handed Thirteen two round tablets.

“What are they?” he winced, reaching for them. I knew Skid’s
drug of choice and answered for him.

“Oxy, it’ll help with the pain,” I said and poured some hydrogen
peroxide on some gauze. I dabbed at the cut on his cheek and he hissed out
between his teeth, but didn’t move or flinch from me.

“You did good, Prospect,” Griz called from across the room. The
knot of anxiety in my chest eased. They believed him. I frowned and hoped they
would mistake it for concentration on my part as I cleaned Thirteen up. I was
trying to decipher
why
I’d feel concern for a club prospect. I mean,
most of them didn’t survive to patch in and when they
were
patched, it
seemed to give them an even shorter life expectancy. At least lately, with the
war going on. I was a little horrified to realize that secretly pleased me.
Maybe
the Sacred Hearts weren’t such a bad lot after all?
I caught myself
thinking.

I was an absolute study in concentration as I worked to
patch Thirteen up, carefully washing the blood away, closing the wound in his
cheekbone with steri-strips. Skid helped me wrap his bruised and battered ribs
with an ACE bandage and I had to admit; Thirteen had a spectacular physique.
His body was sculpted to perfection beneath his plain tee. I swallowed hard. He
laid back without putting his shirt back on and I honestly think I must have
been blushing, because when he noticed we were free and clear of being
overheard he asked me, “Like what you see Rocket?”

I frowned and searched his face, which I would never
describe as
pretty
but certainly was handsome. He was a true strawberry
blonde, the shortness of his haircut barely kissed with the reddish tint of a
newly minted copper penny. His jaw was dusted with the same burnished color in
his few days’ worth of beard growth.

“Who’s Rocket?” I asked softly, and met his eyes with mine.
His pupils were the size of saucers, which was a shame. I liked the green-blue
of his eyes. There wasn’t a single gemstone, either precious or semi-precious,
I could think to compare it to and it seemed to change with his mood. His eyes
were more of a stormy grey-blue that I could see right now, it was hard to
tell, and I wondered if he was in much pain.

“You are.” He tweaked my nose with a blunt fingertip and I
jerked back, wrinkling it. He was high, alright, and I don’t think he was
feeling much of anything…

I sighed, “I’m Raccoon, Coon… not Rocket.” I murmured. He
chuckled deeply.

“You’re Rocket now, Babe.” He murmured and closed his eyes.
I think he was asleep in a matter of seconds.

“Coon! Bring me a bottle of Hennessey for Griz!” Pig-Pen
bellowed from the main area of the club. I stood, fetching the bottle from
behind the bar and took it out to the main area. The men were all gathered
around a battered metal table that was half rusted out. I set the bottle and a
glass at Griz’s elbow. He slapped me on the ass, hard, and gestured that I
should piss off, which I did gladly. They were discussing a plan of action, and
I think most were agreed that the plan now included a full club meeting with
everyone
involved.

As I went back down the hall to the back, I found myself
hoping against hope that they all ran afoul of the other MC. That all of them
were killed off, except maybe Skid and Thirteen. I knew the odds of that
happening were slim to none, though. God hadn’t exactly been kind to me thus
far. Why should he start now?

Once I was sure that the prospect would be alright sleeping
it off where he was, I tucked two more Oxy from the stash that Skid had slid me
- for when Pig beat on me - into a square of receipt paper from my purse. I’d
written ”For when you wake up. –Coon” on it, and folded it carefully around the
two pills before, with a guilty look to make sure I wasn’t caught, tucking them
deep down into his pants pocket. Whoops, and oh my god! If what my hand brushed
against was real, then there might be some truth to some of the rumors I’d
heard about the new prospect’s size!

I wrote on the underside of his wrist ‘Check your hip
pocket’ so he knew to look there, before laying his hand against his stomach,
the writing hidden from view to the casual observer. When he woke up, hopefully
he would find it and the pills. Then, hopefully, he would wash it off and keep
me out of it. I had to hope against hope he wouldn’t tell on me. The last thing
I needed was one of the brothers accusing me of stealing drugs from the club
supply. I doubted Skid would ever step up in my defense again. I could still
see the last time he had, the beating he’d gotten from Pig, and how it haunted
him every time he looked at me.

I knew how he felt. I was haunted by Pig every waking moment
of my life and sometimes during the sleeping ones, too. I gathered my purse,
slipped out of the club and went home, certain that with two more dead
brothers, I wouldn’t be missed.