Doing this, I had a vague idea where they were taking me.I just had to mentally visualise the road.
As we rounded another corner, this time to the right, it dawned on me where we had been going.
I had been able to recognise the route to Greasy. I had taken that journey so many times, I could do it in my sleep. Which meant we were on the motorway, and the turning to the city was after the five-minute stretch of straight driving.
As we turned left, I knew the city was where we were headed. It took me a moment to pull up a visual of the roads, especially as my head was fucking pounding and my back felt as though it was on fire. But that last right turning confirmed it.
I had been here only a few days earlier, doing what I thought would ensure peace for Rachel. I didn’t realise it would cause my own ambush.
Macbeth, you stupid, jealous fuck!
This didn’t just involve the Rough Riders. Macbeth had aligned himself with the worst scum in the world. He hadn't just betrayed me and his entire club. He had betrayed Rachel, and she was an innocent in all of this.
Rachel had never done a thing to harm him – in fact, there were many occasions where she had told me to shut up when I tried goading him into an argument. Foolish though it was, she had never been given a reason to suspect he was anything but truthful.
Arrogant, spiteful, and annoying as all hell. But he had always been honest with her. Gaining her trust. Her confidence.
And now he had sold her out to those wanting to cause nothing but harm.
However, knowing where we were heading to gave me a unique advantage that they'd never see coming. And the cunts would never live long enough to regret the day they decided to cross the Devil's Disciples.
More importantly, they would be sent to hell screaming so loud their fucking ancestors would be wincing in pain for even thinking of bringing my woman into this.
Chapter 4
Rachel
Doc finished sewing Shark up - not without a lot of screaming and yelling coming from the cheerful patient. At first, our teasing had annoyed him, but we soon got pained smiles out of him, and he even gritted a few remarks back at us.
“If I don't die on this stupid bed, I'll kill you myself. And Jenna, you can consider yourself divorced. And I’m keeping the fucking dog.”
“Go to hell, Vienna. Seriously, fuck yourself. Your dad should have wiped you on the fucking curtains instead of spaffing up your useless mother.”
“You’re a piece of shit as well, Rachel. I can’t throw threats at you, but that doesn’t mean I’m not wishing you a painful death in my head.”
You know, pleasant things like that.
I stayed close by Vienna's side, doing my best to keep the atmosphere light-hearted and upbeat because it was what Shark needed.
It was clear to anyone that his wound was horrendous, and had Doc waited any longer, there was a serious chance he wouldn't have made it. Doc had said that the knife had missed all vital organs, but by the remnants left behind, it had been a rusty, crudely made blade. Which meant that Shark was still at the risk of infection.That’s if the bleeding could be stopped before he bled out.
And yet all I could think about was that we were wasting precious time. I was a selfish cunt, but I didn’t want to be here, watching Doc stitch Shark up. I didn’t give that much of a shit now that the immediate danger was over. I wanted to be out there, looking for Dante.
I knew enough about the club to know we had to wait for Crash to arrive before we could make any serious plans. I also knew that we weren't fully aware of what had happened, andwithout facts, it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.
I also was well aware that the club was on the precipice of a war with the Rough Riders. The Devil’s Disciples would declare all-out war for Dante without even thinking twice about it - but they had to plan it. They had to be prepared. Women and children needed protecting, and we needed weapons. Lots of them. Otherwise, we may as well just allow them to take us to the firing range and shoot all of us point blank.
But it was fucking hard to hang about in this room, inDante'sroom, and not feel utterly fucking useless.
“Hey,” I said to Vienna. “Who is in charge with Dante and Crash both absent?”
“Zach,” he said simply.
“Right. I told him to deal with the rest of the club.”
“Then I change my answer to you, since you’re throwing orders around.”
“You’re handing the reins of the club over to me?”
