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Authors: Stephanie Tyler
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ribs, a concussion, a broken nose, a fractured elbow and two knife wounds, with Hammer the most seriously injured.
Stitches, antibiotics, casts and rest. But there would be no funerals for Defiance men tomorrow.
“The fuck’s Tru?” Caspar asked Rebel, who’d come back from the main clubhouse.
“Trixie said she ran halfway through the fight. I’ll go look for her myself.”
“S’all right,” he told Rebel. Knew exactly where she’d run to. Tru’s MO hadn’t changed. Even if she wasn’t runnin’ from shit, she was stickin’ her head in the sand. “She was okay, though?”
“Trixie said she was fine—just stubborn as shit.” Rebel paused. “She tried to get past Trixie to help you in the field.”
“Yeah, sounds like her.” He couldn’t shake the pride from his voice though. Rebel had to notice, but didn’t say anything.
A few minutes later, Silas came riding up next to them, confirming, “Talked to Will—we’re all good. Devils went to the Manderly.” That was one of the few motels open along the lonely stretch of highway between Defiance and the next city that was up and running. It was an hour away, and their clerks were paid well by Defiance to keep them apprised of anyone who stayed there that could be perceived as a threat.
Hell, that was just about everyone. “Didn’t expect them to go home.”
A familiar rumble alerted him that Lance was close. Caspar stood in the cold night air, wiping the blood from his face with a wet towel Rebel handed him, when Lance rode up to them, glowering.
“Church. Now,” he told them, his eyes never leaving Caspar’s face.
Silas shot Caspar a look he couldn’t interpret and rode off after Lance, leaving Caspar and Rebel to walk alone to the clubhouse, where the rest of the table had no doubt already gathered.
“Didn’t make them any promises,” Rebel said as they walked, neither man rushing.
“I make them, I keep them.” But he didn’t know what kind of promise he’d made to Tru tonight. He didn’t want to lock her into something she didn’t want.
Bonding ceremonies usually took precedence over everything, but not tonight. Facing Tru wasn’t at the top of his list, not with his anger at top boil.
And he hadn’t agreed to bond with her—he’d agreed to keep her here, in Defiance. No one was rushing him into anything.
Caspar took his usual place at the clubhouse door because Lance was waiting outside. Rebel paused, but went inside after Caspar nodded his okay, leaving just him and Lance alone.
Lance didn’t move. Caspar eyed the man, caught the fleeting edge of an expression he’d swear was fear. For the first time, Lance seemed to realize that being alone with Caspar might not be to his advantage, and then his face fell back into its typical hardened tightness.
Caspar finally opened the door and Lance moved forward then, while the others watched, paused to stroke his finger in an oddly gentle manner down Caspar’s scar. His voice was anything but gentle when he said, “Remember your place, son.”
When he walked away, Caspar went in directly behind him, slammed the door hard enough to make all the men look. Lance turned to him and yes, church was taking place outside the pews tonight.
He’d pay but what the hell? He always paid. “It’s done, Lance. Too late to back away. Not killin’ any woman to have peace with another MC. The Kill Devils don’t tell me what the fuck I need to do.”
“What about your fuckin’ president?” Lance asked, his anger seething through his calm facade.
Caspar stared the man down, wondered if Lance would tell him to kill Tru. “I did what needed to be done. The choice was mine.”
Roan broke in, coming to Lance’s side, his fist tight in Caspar’s face. “And now, we’ve got a goddamned war.”
“It was coming anyway,” Silas said, yanking Roan’s hand down, more for Roan’s sake than for Caspar’s. “They’re trying to cut into our new deals. We took away Tru—they
Stitches, antibiotics, casts and rest. But there would be no funerals for Defiance men tomorrow.
“The fuck’s Tru?” Caspar asked Rebel, who’d come back from the main clubhouse.
“Trixie said she ran halfway through the fight. I’ll go look for her myself.”
“S’all right,” he told Rebel. Knew exactly where she’d run to. Tru’s MO hadn’t changed. Even if she wasn’t runnin’ from shit, she was stickin’ her head in the sand. “She was okay, though?”
“Trixie said she was fine—just stubborn as shit.” Rebel paused. “She tried to get past Trixie to help you in the field.”
“Yeah, sounds like her.” He couldn’t shake the pride from his voice though. Rebel had to notice, but didn’t say anything.
A few minutes later, Silas came riding up next to them, confirming, “Talked to Will—we’re all good. Devils went to the Manderly.” That was one of the few motels open along the lonely stretch of highway between Defiance and the next city that was up and running. It was an hour away, and their clerks were paid well by Defiance to keep them apprised of anyone who stayed there that could be perceived as a threat.
Hell, that was just about everyone. “Didn’t expect them to go home.”
A familiar rumble alerted him that Lance was close. Caspar stood in the cold night air, wiping the blood from his face with a wet towel Rebel handed him, when Lance rode up to them, glowering.
“Church. Now,” he told them, his eyes never leaving Caspar’s face.
Silas shot Caspar a look he couldn’t interpret and rode off after Lance, leaving Caspar and Rebel to walk alone to the clubhouse, where the rest of the table had no doubt already gathered.
“Didn’t make them any promises,” Rebel said as they walked, neither man rushing.
“I make them, I keep them.” But he didn’t know what kind of promise he’d made to Tru tonight. He didn’t want to lock her into something she didn’t want.
Bonding ceremonies usually took precedence over everything, but not tonight. Facing Tru wasn’t at the top of his list, not with his anger at top boil.
And he hadn’t agreed to bond with her—he’d agreed to keep her here, in Defiance. No one was rushing him into anything.
Caspar took his usual place at the clubhouse door because Lance was waiting outside. Rebel paused, but went inside after Caspar nodded his okay, leaving just him and Lance alone.
Lance didn’t move. Caspar eyed the man, caught the fleeting edge of an expression he’d swear was fear. For the first time, Lance seemed to realize that being alone with Caspar might not be to his advantage, and then his face fell back into its typical hardened tightness.
Caspar finally opened the door and Lance moved forward then, while the others watched, paused to stroke his finger in an oddly gentle manner down Caspar’s scar. His voice was anything but gentle when he said, “Remember your place, son.”
When he walked away, Caspar went in directly behind him, slammed the door hard enough to make all the men look. Lance turned to him and yes, church was taking place outside the pews tonight.
He’d pay but what the hell? He always paid. “It’s done, Lance. Too late to back away. Not killin’ any woman to have peace with another MC. The Kill Devils don’t tell me what the fuck I need to do.”
“What about your fuckin’ president?” Lance asked, his anger seething through his calm facade.
Caspar stared the man down, wondered if Lance would tell him to kill Tru. “I did what needed to be done. The choice was mine.”
Roan broke in, coming to Lance’s side, his fist tight in Caspar’s face. “And now, we’ve got a goddamned war.”
“It was coming anyway,” Silas said, yanking Roan’s hand down, more for Roan’s sake than for Caspar’s. “They’re trying to cut into our new deals. We took away Tru—they
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