Sage's Surrender Page 4

  Nine

  Sage

  Each crack I send down, she lets out a surprised cry. In the beginning, it sounded like she was in pain, but now, as I reach number ten, I hear a giggle. A mother fucking giggle. It makes my cock rock fucking hard. I push her off onto the bed and storm out of the cabin, slamming the door as I go. Outside, I try to calm myself and pick up the broken mugs that will probably piss Buggs right the fuck off, but I’m too pissed to care. Brook has it in her head that this club is bad—to blame for everything—when this club did nothing but save my life and keep me from going back to prison, where I probably would have died had I gone back in.

  Right after I was discharged from the army, I found myself spinning out. Drinking and women were something that came after I patched in. Before that, I got caught up with the wrong people and started doing stupid shit. Like armed robbery. One job, trying to rip off a jewelry store, went bad and landed me in prison. Five years behind bars and the first fucking thing I did was get in touch with the same people who landed me in the joint. Luck stepped in that night. I was supposed to meet them at a little hole in the wall bar in some no name town in Montana. Instead, I sat down on a barstool and ordered a beer. To my right was Gin. Fucker had on a leather cut with prospect stamped out in bold letters on the back. Told me all about the club after he found out about my years in the army as an EOD and my time served in the slammer. The next day, I was prospecting for the Rhino chapter.

  “You look a little pissed, brother. She givin’ you grief?” Rock’s booming voice along with the crunching of gravel fills my ears as he walks toward my bike. I don’t even remember getting this far out of the house.

  “You could say that,” I grumble, glancing back at the cabin. I catch only the slightest movement by one of the windows. I know she’s watching us. I need to get the fuck out of here—as far away from the barely legal blonde as I can.

  “What’s goin’ on, Pres?” I know the man wouldn’t be leaving his house to come chat with me twice in twelve hours.

  “Someone tried to kill Gin last night. A woman. Nurse who works at the hospital.” He crosses his thick arms in front of his chest.

  “Tried. I’m guessin’ the bitch didn’t succeed?”

  Rock shakes his head. “No. Ringer was on duty.”

  “Shit.” I fucking know Ringer. “Is she still alive to question?”

  “She’s alive. Though, she can barely speak. Fucker damn near killed her before he backed off and let her breathe. She hasn’t said who had her do it. Somethin’ you want’a find out?” Rock asks with a smile, making one of my own grow.

  Besides blowing shit up, I do enjoy the occasional interrogation.

  Our torture chamber, as I like to call it, has gotten a few upgrades throughout the years. Some new tools. Some more soundproofing on the walls, but what I like the most is the tall sink we had installed, complete with a nifty little hook to hang people from the ceiling right above it. This is where the nurse from the hospital is currently. Tears drip down her face, rolling over her temples, until they disappear into her hairline. Her dark brown hair sways in the water already filling the plastic tub. “All I want to know is who hired you and how to find them. Not too hard for you to tell me those two things. I’ll make it quick. Nice humane shot to the head instead of letting you drown,” I tell her. Some might find it sick to torture a woman, but no one fucks with this club.

  “I…don—don’t…n-n-n-n—know…” she whimpers.

  “Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that,” I say, reaching down to splash some water into her face. She flinches back and lets out a startled yelp.

  “Please. He…has her,” she sobs.

  Now we’re getting somewhere. “Who?” I grip her hair by the nape and pull her up just enough to be face to face. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know. I swear. Please, he…he said he would ki—kill her.”

  “Who is her?” I feel like we’re going around in fucking circles.

  “My mom. He has her,” she whimpers, sniffling and choking on her own snot. “He...he…said I had to do it…or he would kill her.”

  “Do you know where they are?” She shakes her head. “You’ve got to give me something,” I growl.

  “I don’t know. Please. I was supposed to meet him after it was done.” I look over to Ringer, who’s standing in the corner, his heavily muscled arms crossed over his massive chest. The guy might be a little soft around the middle, but he could pound the piss out of anyone.

  “Got more than I did,” he mutters, glaring at the woman.

  “Where were you supposed to meet?”

  “The old abandoned deli across t-t-t-t—town.” Her words cut out as drop her back down to swing in the water at the middle of her forehead. “Please! Please! I will do anything. Please don’t let him kill my mother. Please!” she yells as the water rolls up her face, bypassing her lids. Her body swings, despite her not having use of her arms. Water splashes around the sink, some spilling over the sides and onto my boots.

  “What you think, Ringer? We give her a chance?”

  He shrugs. “Don’t know, man. Could come back to bite us in the ass.”

  “No. It won’t. I swear it…” Her next words are garbled as the water reaches over her nose. I give it just a second before pulling her up and reaching past her to yank the plug and shut the cold tap off. I give Ringer a jerk of my chin, but he’s already coming over to my opposite side to help me take her from the chain. She coughs and sputters, trying to catch her breath and purge the aspirated water from her lungs. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” she pants as she relentlessly gasps for breath.

  “Yeah. We’ll see how thankful you are if you’re lying to us.”

  Ten

  Brook

  A knock on the cabin door pulls me from the mindless binge watching of some reality TV show I hadn’t even bothered to catch the name of. Through the glass, the shaggy, dirty blond hair and scruffy face of my brother comes into view. I take in a deep breath to try to stave off the tears as I swing the door open with a fake smile plastered on my face. “Jason!” I say, my arms wide. He steps forward and accepts my embrace, but it feels forced, frigid.

  “Hey, sis.” I pull back and look him over. His arm is in a sling close to his body and the t-shirt he has on is stretched over his trim chest. He looks like a smaller version of Gin, and it makes my heart ache. He has grown up so much over the years. Gone is the boy I left behind. In his place is a young man close to becoming an adult. “Thought you would have slipped your detail by now and run back to Cali.” He smirks as he walks farther into the kitchen to sit down at the table.

  “Nope. Not like I could leave anyway. I don’t even have my car here.”

  “Never stopped you before,” he grumbles under his breath, and it stings. I don’t know what I was expecting seeing my brother again. On the phone, it sounded like he wanted me here, but maybe it was just a ploy to get me back in Cental.

  “Is there something you need to say, Jason? Or should I call you Jay?”

  He narrows his eyes at me in a glare and shakes his head. “You’ve always had some grudge against Dad. I’m sure you have your reasons and all, but it’s kind of the kettle calling the pot black, you know?”

  I cross my arms. “Really? Can you enlighten me?”

  “You hated Dad for letting Mom take us away, like it was his decision—”

  “How was it not?”

  “Shut it. Let me finish.” My bossy ass seventeen-year-old brother has been hanging out with bikers for too long, “You know how much Mom hated Brit. There was no way she was going to let us stay with them, even if she didn’t want us. Then that whole fucking shootout happened. He lost Brit and the baby, and was in no way able to track us down, let alone take care of us. You know that,” he scolds, as if I should know better. And maybe on some level I do…or did. I remember going to see him just once before we left, then Mom took us away from this place. She told us we were going in to say goodbye t
o him and we would never see him again. Even with all that, he made a promise that one day he would come for us.

  “I remember all of it. But he never came for us, and he could have at any point. Like maybe when one of Mom’s boyfriends were beating on you. Or how about the one who would try to rub up on me? Any of those times would have been ideal. But he never came. And he promised.”

  “Life don’t work that way and you know it. We got through it and made it back here only to have you abandon me. You spout off about Dad leaving us? Well, you left me.” He stands to his feet. “I’m not mad at you for leaving, though I still don’t understand why you did, but you can’t keep blaming Dad for everything when you aren’t perfect either.”

  A single tear escapes my eye, and I quickly brush it away with the back of my hand. “When did you become the grown up?” I force out a laugh.

  “While you were gone.” He smiles and comes closer to me, offering a re-do on that hug. “I’m glad you’re back.” He squeezes me as tight as he can with his uninjured arm, then backs away.

  “Where’s Tanya? I thought maybe you would have brought her.” He drops his shoulders a little bit and backs away. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”

  “Yeah. She’s fine. Promise. It’s just…” he pauses, seeming to mull over whether or not to tell me what the issue is.

  “Just say it, Jason. What’s going on?”

  “Whoever shot at me and Dad…well, the club thinks they might go after Grace and Tay, so she’s staying with Vin and Ellie. Rock doesn’t want her to go anywhere else.” My heart speeds up in my chest.

  “Someone out there wants to kill them?”

  “We don’t know. It’s just a precaution. Did Sage not tell you anything?”

  The mention of Sage has my heart beating faster for a whole different reason. The way he left this morning after spanking me suddenly feels like it’s written all over my face as heat takes over my cheeks.

  “Uh…no. He isn’t much of a talker.” I turn from Jason to go busy myself with something, needing to have my hands moving. “You want some coffee? There’s still enough left for a couple cups.” I grab two mugs down from the mug tree on the countertop. It’s missing the two from earlier and I wonder if they’re still out on the deck in pieces.

  “Yeah, I’ll take some. Thanks.” We both sit down at the table and talk. Thankfully, Sage’s name never comes up again, and before long, I’m hugging my brother goodbye as he climbs into his small red pickup and drives away. I watch him for a moment, then decide to go back inside.

  I’m about to turn around when I notice him slow down, then come to a complete stop. Squinting my eyes, I can just make out the rider pulled up next to him and feel a heatwave roll over me.

  “Oh crap.” I turn around and run back into the cabin, shutting the door behind me and finding a spot on the couch.

  It doesn’t take very long for the rumble of the bike to be right outside the door. When the engine cuts off, Sage’s heavy footfalls take its place as he stalks toward the door. My body grows cold with panic. What should I do? Should I run into the bedroom? Fake sleeping? Or face the man head on? Millions of scenarios hit me at once and I find myself just staring at the TV when the door flies open. I force my breathing to steady, my heart to slow, my body to belong to me again, but the memory of his hand on my backside and what the act did to me still lingers low in my belly.

  His presence fills the room and robs the whole cabin of its air. I can’t breathe, and my heart is in my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? “Takin’ a shower,” he grumbles as his heavy footfalls thud through the living room and into the bathroom. It’s then I turn my head and see his back. That’s when it hits me: the smell of smoke.

  Eleven

  Sage

  The spray hits my naked skin and washes away the thick smell of smoke. The woman turned out to be telling the truth, but it didn’t bode well for her—or us. We showed up only to have the place light up around us. Someone planted a remote bomb attached to the mother, and as soon as the woman stepped in—boom! The fire filled the building and they were both toast. Ringer and I were standing by to see who she was meeting, but of course that didn’t work out.

  Stepping out, I grab a fluffy pink towel and roll my eyes. Girls and their pink. This is just a guest house and Buggs still needs to make pink happen. Tucking the towel around my waist, I gather up the pile of ash ridden clothes and stalk out the door, running into Brook, who’s standing right fucking there, her eyes wide and staring at me. Why the fuck didn’t I go to the clubhouse? Oh yeah, I wasn’t fucking thinking. Her eyes move with the drops of water still clinging to my chest as they make their way down to the towel.

  “What happened?” she asks, shaking herself from her staring.

  “Standing right outside a building that blew up,” I say, not giving a fuck of how it’ll affect her as I stalk toward the small room with a double stacker washer and dryer. I stuff my shirt and sweatshirt in, then grab my things out of the pockets of my jeans before tossing them in too. Placing my wallet, phone, and pocket knife down on the small countertop, I start up the machine and pour in some soap. All the while, her gaze remains on me, those baby blues sending a fire igniting along my skin. Her smell over the rank stench of the smoke is welcome. For a moment, I wonder what she might taste like. Sweet and forbidden. Most definitely forbidden.

  “Did anyone get hurt?”

  “Just the woman and her mom on the inside.” She gasps and covers her mouth at my words.

  “Did you kill them?” It’s not accusatory, her tone, only curious. I turn to face her. Her big blue eyes look at me with a mixture of concern and interest as her chest heaves up and down. The small tank top she has on does nothing to cover the fact that she isn’t wearing a bra or that her nipples could cut glass.

  “I didn’t kill ‘em. No. The person who tried to kill your old man did.”

  “Who were they?”

  “The woman was a nurse who works at the hospital. She tried to off Gin last night because whoever wants Gin dead took her mom. She was supposed to meet up with him today, to get her mom back, but when she walked in, the meet spot blew up. After the flames were put out, we found that someone had been waiting for her to show up to blow the building. The bomb had a remote detonator.” I wait for some type of reaction, but she only nods in understanding. “Any more questions?”

  “You still don’t know who the guy is?” I shake my head. “Then no. I don’t.” She backs away from me and starts down the short hallway to the spot she was in when I came through the door. It takes me a moment to remember I’m still in my towel, and I silently curse myself for it. I head to the other guest room. Buggs keeps the place stocked in case anyone needs anything, so I open the drawer and rummage through the t-shirts and jeans to find my size or close to it. After pulling on a plain white shirt and worn jeans, I go grab my wallet and phone and stuff my knife in my pocket before heading to the living room.

  “You want to order pizza? I can have one of the prospects go get it,” I offer.

  “Sure. I could eat something. Cereal is getting old,” she responds, not turning around from the couch.

  “Maybe I could have someone get some shit. Start a list,” I tell her and shoot a text to Kline, one of our newest prospects, telling him to run into town to grab us a pizza. “What kind you want?”

  “Cheese,” she tells me, and I shake my head. Just like her old man. I make the call to the pizza place and send another text to tell Kline what I ordered so he doesn’t end up bringing back the wrong pizza. It’s happened before. Dumbass.

  “Kline will be here in a bit. I’m going to go out on the deck. Make some phone calls and wait for him.” Before she can respond, I’m out the door and plopping my ass down on one of the wooden chairs.

  Twelve

  Brook

  The smell of pizza fills the room, much better than the smoke smell, and my stomach growls.

  “It’s here, kid. Come get it,” Sage says as he
walks in, followed by who I’m guessing is Kline. He’s tall, almost as tall as Sage, but skinny. Not an ounce of fat on him, and probably no muscle either. His goatee is thin and barely there, along with the pitiful mustache he has attempted to grow, and I realize he’s probably the same age as me, if not younger.

  “Brook, this is Kline. Kline, this is Gin’s daughter.” He puts the emphasis on Gin, as if that would explain everything, but when I look over to Kline once again, I realize the reason for Sage’s stern voice. Kline quickly looks away from me as the blush on his cheeks spreads to his ears barely hidden under too shaggy brown hair.

  “Here.” Sage drops down a couple twenties from his wallet. “Get out of here.” Sage glares the poor kid down as he chokes on his own tongue while thanking Sage for the tip and saying it was nice to meet me.

  “That was rude,” I snap, grabbing a slice of pizza.

  “Nah. What would’a been rude is to tell you to go put some damn clothes on ‘cause your tits are showing right through that thing you call a shirt in front of him,” he snaps and grabs his own slice before stomping out of the kitchen without even a glance at me. I follow. Because I can’t help it.

  “I’m sure he has seen plenty of boobs in his time with the club,” I snark, and sit down on the chair angled so I’m able to look at him.

  “Maybe so, but they don’t belong to Gin’s daughter,” he grumbles before taking another bite.

  “They’re just boobs. Plenty of people have seen them.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “You are such an ass.” I roll my eyes, then get up from the chair to grab another slice as I finish off the piece in my hand. Glancing around the kitchen, my eyes zero in on the cabinet above the fridge—hopefully the one with booze. Mentally crossing my fingers, I go for it and almost clap my hands at my discovery. Vodka. My favorite. I’m not much of a drinker—I can’t even buy the stuff being twenty—but I do love a good buzz. Reaching up on my tiptoes, I grab the bottle down and search for a glass and ice. It would be awesome to have a slice of lemon, but I know I won’t find that around here, so I settle for straight vodka.