Reprisal (Tidals & Anchors MC Book 2) Page 2

  "Any news?" he asked me when I walked into through his back door.

  "Not yet. Red's still trying to see what he can pry out of Pardon," I replied, sitting down at the kitchen table with him. Leon nodded and got to his feet. He made his way to the refrigerator, pulled out two beers, and sat back down, sliding one across the table toward me.

  "It's ten in the morning," I pointed out with a laugh. Leon looked up at me with his tired eyes and chuckled, before screwing the top off of his bottle.

  "So it is."

  I unscrewed the cap off of my bottle and took a healthy swig. "So it is" seemed to be the favorite saying of the Raders. I put my bottle down and looked at Leon who was glancing out the kitchen window. His bottle was held firmly between both of his hands and he had a sad look on his face.

  "We're gonna find him," I promised quietly.

  He nodded and used his thumb to wipe away tears that were forming in his eyes.

  "Yeah, I know."

  "Then what's the matter?" I asked, taking another swig of my beer.

  "I know what the MC thinks of me; it's the same thing my boy does. A lot of it isn't true, but I never got the chance to make things right with him, you know? I just let him go on believing that I was this worthless piece of shit that Pardon made me out to be and I never bothered to correct it. That’s eaten away at me for years, Dallas. Now I don't know if I'll ever get the chance to make it right with him," he finished with a heavy sigh.

  "I already told you that we're going to find him. Alive. I won't let my best friend die over some setup."

  "Hm." Leon's face wore a sad smile and I could tell that he didn't know what to believe. I knew in my heart that I was telling him the truth. Finding Swing alive was our number one priority and we weren't going to stop until we did.

  "Nero was always a tough kid, you remember that," I continued. "I don't think I ever saw him cry and we took a lot of bumps as kids. Come to think of it, the only time I've ever seen him show that kind of emotion was when Harold died and that probably lasted about five minutes after he got the phone call telling him."

  Leon nodded, but didn't say anything. It didn't surprise him that Swing showed emotion for Harold and not him. It was, after all, like he said; most of what the newest members of the MC knew about Leon was what Pardon told them. Even the existing members who were still in Tidals & Anchors, wouldn't dare step up to the plate and call Pardon out on his lies.

  My phone rang in my pocket, taking my attention away from Leon. I reached into my jeans pocket and glanced at it.

  “Fuck, I gotta take this. Sorry,” I said to him as I got to my feet and walked outside. I managed to answer the phone on what I felt would’ve been the last ring. “Tell me something good, man.”

  “I haven’t found him, but I think I’ve got something just as good,” Red replied.

  “Alright.”

  “On a hunch, I decided to go by Leon’s old work place. You know, the one that Swing uses for marks and shit? Dallas, it looked like a crime scene. There was blood almost all over the place and some drag marks on the ground, kinda like we saw at his place in Poulsbo. But you remember that creepy home movie that chick with the mask made? That same mask was there with a bullet hole in it,” he said excitedly.

  At first I didn’t understand what had him so amped about finding a bloodbath and a mask with a bullet hole in it.

  “I don’t get it, Red,” I replied bluntly.

  “Swing is still alive. He has to be. Who else knew about that place but us and the MC? And to find that same mask there? No fucking way it’s a coincidence.”

  “Take Honest and go back. I’ll meet you guys there in ten minutes,” I said, before I hung up.

  I went back into the house to find Leon was still sitting at the table where I left him, staring off into space.

  “Think he’ll be happy to see me?” he asked, before I could say anything.

  “Swing? Hell yes. We just gotta find him first. I got a good lead just now too. I’m gonna go take a look. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

  “Dallas,” Leon said in a voice that stopped me as I reached the door again.

  “Yeah?” I asked, turning to glance at him.

  “Before this is all over, I’m going to make sure Pardon dies a slow, painful death,” he said giving me a level stare.

  “I’m alright with that, old man,” I lied, as I turned and left Leon sitting in his home.

  I can’t let them kill my father. I just have to find Swing and talk some sense into him.

  Four

  Alaska

  I was sitting in my office with my hands clasped behind my head. A yawn escaped me and I glanced over at the leather couch that Swing was sleeping on. I didn't want to keep him housed at Femme Fatale, but I had finished trying to fix him a little while ago and decided it would be best for him to get some rest before I moved him again. I wasn't sure where the hell I was going to put him, but I couldn't let him stay here.

  With another yawn, I thought of what a debacle it had been trying to sew him up. He hadn't put up much of struggle once he was restrained, but I was so hell-bent on making sure the he stayed as pretty as I found him that it took longer than it should have.

  It had taken Tumbler and a couple of my bouncers to hold him down once I started swabbing his cuts and punctures wounds. I had tried to tell him that it would hurt and offered him some vodka to numb the pain, but he had declined saying he could take it. The first swab wasn't so bad, he had said. The second one was where he gave me a dangerous stare. As soon as I placed the third on one of his larger wounds, was the moment he let out a pained grunt. That's when I nodded at Tumbler and she left to get some back up.

  The three of them had held him down on my favorite pool table in the backroom, while I continued to swab as many cuts as I could find. I wanted to make sure that nothing would get infected and get a better idea of what I could actually sew up myself and what would heal on its own.

  "He's gonna need to go to the hospital eventually," Tumbler said, as I sat down on the table next to him and began to stitch him up. "He's lost a lot of blood."

  "Fuck. Has anyone seen my glasses?" I asked, ignoring her statement. "I think they're in my office; be a doll and grab them for me?"

  She had rolled her eyes, but nodded and did as I asked. I reached into my black jeans pocket and pulled out a hair tie, slipped it around a makeshift ponytail I made, and secured it.

  "Thanks kiddo," I said, taking my glasses from Tumbler and sliding them over my eyes. "Hold him still. I don't know how deep these really are so I need to be careful when I..." my voice trailed off as I leaned over and placed a hand against his side. Swing grunted again when I slid the needle under his skin and began sewing him back together as best as I could.

  It had taken me three hours. Not because of all of the wounds he had, but because I wanted to make sure there would be as minimal scarring as possible as well as fastest healing time. This war with Tidals & Anchors was coming whether I wanted it to or not. Helping Swing, getting him out of the torture room we had found him in, branded us enemies of Pardon and I knew he wouldn't hesitate to come knocking down my door once he figured it out. For that reason alone, I needed Swing to be as close to one hundred percent as possible. Stilettos & Steele was full of dangerous and cutthroat beautiful bitches, but it wouldn't hurt to have a Rader on our side.

  Especially if he's anything like his old man, I thought glancing at him and yawning again.

  I had heard some great stories about Leon Rader, and his way of running Tidals & Anchors was honestly what I tried to fashion myself after with my ladies in my MC. Do what you have to do to get the job done and do what you have to do to get out in one piece. That was one of the biggest things I had admired most about him based on the stories Warner had told me growing up.

  "I'm locking up for the night Alaska," Deacon, my head bouncer said poking his head into my office. "You gonna be alright with him or do you want me to move him?"

 
I smiled and him and shook my head, "I'll be fine. I've got the great equalizer in my top drawer."

  He shook his head and chuckled, bidding me a good night before he disappeared. I glanced at Swing again and wondered if I'd be able to leave him here without anything happening to him. I really wanted to go home but I felt like it was my duty to keep his ass alive until he could do it for himself.

  With a sigh, I leaned back in my chair and kicked my legs up onto my desk. I tried to ask myself if what I was doing was the right thing. It would be so easy to end this war before it started by putting a bullet into him while he slept. What would Leon do? I wondered rubbing my eyes tiredly. Probably not kill his son.

  I dropped my legs from the table top and crossed my arms on it, letting my head rest on them. The last time I glanced at the clock was just before Deacon had come in and it said 2:02 am. Chances were that Swing was asleep for the rest of the evening, so I just had to make the best of my current situation and pray I didn't wake up with a stiff neck. I closed my eyes and let the sleep take me.

  I half expected my dreams to be restless. What, with having put down one of my own girls and having to stitch up an angry giant, but I actually was relieved that I hadn’t dreamt anything at all. Chances where I would’ve had some crazy visions of being chased by white masks or something.

  “Alaska!”

  “What?!” I sat up and gasped, as the door to my office banged open and Tumbler yelled my name. I was so startled at first that the sudden movement almost caused me to fall out of my chair. “What time is it?”

  “Jesus Christ,” Swing grumbled from him place on the couch.

  “Alaska, they’re here,” she said urgently as she shut the door behind her.

  “Who’s here?” I asked, wiping the small amount of drool off the side of my mouth. I was so groggy and so tired that I wanted to shove Swing off the couch and go back to sleep.

  “Pardon and Tidals & Anchors,” she hissed, flipping open the blinds behind me.

  Swing looked at her, then me, before he struggled to his feet and came over to look out of the blinds with us. When I got this place, I had a window set up in my office so that I would be able to see into the gentleman’s club whenever I needed to, but I primarily kept it closed because I wasn’t a fan of watching naked women writhing all over the place. I was a fan of the monetary intake.

  “Motherfucker,” he said through grit teeth. “Give me a gun.”

  “You can barely walk,” I reminded him rolling my eyes.

  “I don’t need to be able to walk to put a bullet in his fucking head,” he replied angrily.

  I got to my feet and smoothed my hair back, redoing my bedhead ponytail and sighed. Reaching down, I straightened my vest out and pulled up on my jeans.

  “You’re staying in here,” I said, sticking a finger in his chest. “If he tries to leave this room, this is where I want you to shoot him,” I said to Tumbler, before I walked out and closed the door securely behind me.

  I walked down the narrow hallway with my head held high. Nothing about Pardon really scared me and I wasn’t going to let him think he knew more than he actually did. Pardon had never come into my establishment before so it was no coincidence.

  “Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” I remarked, walking toward the empty stage where they were waiting. Pardon had been sitting on the edge of the stage, but pushed himself to his feet when I approached him with my arms open.

  “How’s it going, darling?” he asked, taking me into his arms and kissing my cheek.

  “Good! So what brings you here?” I asked, with a bright smile.

  “Looking for something that was taken from me,” he said, looking into my eyes. “I was just wondering if you might know where I could find it.”

  “Depends on what it is,” I replied with a laugh.

  “I think you know what I’m looking for Alaska,” he said with a tired sigh. “I’m really not in the mood for games. Just tell me where you put Leon’s boy and we’ll leave. No repercussions; scout’s honor.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. Fuck. I knew he found out somehow. I looked Pardon up and down for a moment before I went over and sat down next to him on the edge of the stage.

  “What makes you think I would know anything about that?” I asked, glancing at him.

  “Bring her in, Boots,” he nodded to one of his larger, scarier looking club members.

  Bring who in? I thought curiously as I looked toward the door. When the club member reappeared, he had a small, obviously frightened person by the arm. The closer they got the more I realized who it was and I felt myself become furious.

  “Judas bitch! You can fucking shoot her for all I care,” I spat out angrily. “You and your sister deserve everything that happens to you, Saylor! And in case you were wondering I already put your bitch sister down myself.”

  Pardon glanced at me and gave me a grim smile. I didn’t understand at first. The look on his face was smug and dangerous at the same time.

  “I knew you’d have him,” he said softly. “Warner got to you, didn’t he? Told you the Raders are good people? Did you know that he’s the one that set up Nero? He’s the reason he wound up in the warehouse getting cut up, but you just couldn’t leave well enough alone could you, Alaska? You just had to play the hero and go running in to save him. Warner hates Nero. He hates Leon. The only one he respects is Harold, but you’re too blinded by worshiping the legend of Leon that you pretty much made up for yourself, that you don’t see anything else. Your father would be so disappointed if he knew what his little girl was up too. Hiding the man that almost killed him because of her wanting to be so badly like his old man.”

  “Leave Warner out of this,” I replied through grit teeth.

  “That depends on you Alaska. You gonna give me what I want or am I gonna send Saylor to kill your old man?” he asked.

  I looked down at my shoes and took a deep breath. Glancing at the blinds I could see that they were being held open by two sets of curious hands.

  What would Leon do?

  With a slight shake of my head, I looked at Pardon and smiled, “I don’t have him.”

  “Kill them both and burn this fucking place to the ground,” he said to Boots, who shoved Saylor onto the stage. Pardon signaled for the rest of his club to follow him as he walked out of Femme Fatale.

  Five

  Dallas

  The outside condition of Swing’s workshop made my heart drop into my ass when I arrived. The door had been left cracked open, something he never allowed, and as we backed our bikes into our usual spaces, I was honestly terrified to see what the inside looked like.

  “It’s not that bad once you get over what the outside looks like,” Red assured me, as I walked toward him.

  No sooner had he said that, did Honest walk out of the workshop looking extremely pale. “There’s so much blood,” he mumbled in a shaky voice.

  “You’re not helping right now,” Red snapped at him.

  “I’m sorry, Dallas,” Honest said looking at me with tears in his eye. He blinked a few times to keep them from falling and shook his head as he walked past me and went to sit on his bike.

  “What’s he apologizing for?” I asked Red, a sick feeling suddenly forming in the pit of my stomach.

  “He’s overreacting. I’m telling you that it is not that bad Dallas. Swing wasn’t the only person in there, remember? That mask with the bullet hole is still in there; whoever was wearing it was bleeding out too. It’s not all his. Come on,” he said, leading the way in.

  “I don’t know if I want to see this,” I replied, not moving.

  “Dallas. I know how tight you and Nero are; I wouldn’t let you walk into some shit show if I didn’t think you couldn’t handle it. You know if he was here right now, he’d call you a pussy and shove you inside,” Red remarked with a chuckle.

  If he were here right now, I wouldn’t have to worry about this shit, I thought grimly. With a nod, I relented and followed Red
into the workshop.

  Once we were inside, I realized that Red was right. There were bloody drag marks and the white mask with the bullet hole in the middle of where the forehead would be. But the splatters of blood, the bullet hole mask, and the bloody marks on the ground weren’t what had my attention.

  “So that’s where it went,” I said under my breath.

  “What?” Red asked curiously.

  “That’s the President’s chair, man. Didn’t you fucking notice?” I asked him incredulously.

  Red put his hands in his pockets and walked slowly around it. I watched as he shook his head before stopping in front of it. “It’s too cut up for me to have noticed. That means Pardon was here.”

  Obviously, I thought grimly. There weren’t many things I was sure of anymore; who to trust, if I could trust myself, if Swing was still alive, but this... I knew for sure that Pardon was behind this.

  “When did everything go so wrong?” I asked myself quietly.

  Red cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. I heard another set of footsteps as Honest entered the warehouse. With a heavy sigh, I crouched down in front of the chair and took in the nicks in the wood, the dried blood; shit, there were even small pieces of Swing’s clothes stuck in the wood.

  “How deep did they cut him, you think?” Honest asked quietly.

  “Deep enough. We gotta find him. He’s obviously in Bend, but where the fuck is he?” I asked in frustration, getting to my feet.

  At that moment, my phone rang startling all of us. I looked down at the caller ID and sighed. It was Pardon and I wasn’t sure if I should answer the phone or not. I decided to let it go to voicemail but he only wound up calling again.