White Knuckles

  “Z, come on, man. We’re wasting precious minutes here,” Rock says.

  He’s tight with tension, but it’s nothing like the fire-breathing beast uncurling inside me.

  “Left up ahead,” Z says. “It looks like a turn around, but you’ll see a dirt driveway when you pull in. They went down there.”

  Rock curses then gives Z the order. “Wait for us.”

  I glare at Rock.

  “I sent Murphy down to check it out,” Z says. “We’re waiting for you by the road.”

  Murphy’s jogging back to Z’s truck by the time we pull in.

  “There’s a house. One car in front. Same one that took her from the supermarket. Didn’t hear or see anyone.”

  “Let’s go,” I snarl.

  Rock stops me with a hand on my arm. “Easy.”

  Somewhere in my human brain I know he’s being logical. We don’t want to bust in there before we know what’s going on. While the element of surprise is nice, it could also get Trinity killed.

  But it’s my Neanderthal brain in charge of my body as I break into a fast jog down the driveway. Everyone likes to joke about how, for a guy my size, I can sneak up on ’em. Well, tonight I use that skill.

  I’m tall enough to be able to peer in one of the front windows. They’re covered in yellowed newspapers, but there’s a sliver that gives me an unobstructed view.

  Ransom.

  Trinity.

  And someone over by the door, judging from the way Trinity keeps looking that way. I can’t see who from this angle.

  “She okay?” Rock whispers as he slides up next to me.

  “For now.”

  “How many?”

  “Two. Ransom and someone by the door I can’t make out.”

  He throws up two fingers, signaling to Z and Murphy to get in position by the front door.

  “Where’s Teller?” I ask.

  “At the cars so he can warn us if someone else shows up. Sparky’s with him.”

  My gaze returns to Trinity. She’s tight with fear. Ransom waves a hand at her in a hurry up sort of gesture.

  Her fingers go to the edge of her sweatshirt, and she slowly lifts it.

  An inhuman growl rumbles from the back of my throat.

  I’ve stalled as long as I dare.

  My fingers twist in the hem of my sweatshirt. My body curves in what I hope is a seductive way but probably looks more like I’m having a spasm.

  I’m lifting the sweatshirt over my head when there’s a crash at the front door.

  Perfect timing, guys.

  I drop to the ground, struggling to pull my shirt down so I can see what the fuck is going on. There’s a deafening crack as the door slams open, hitting the wall. The thunder of boots storming over the hardwood floor fills the house.

  When I finally peek up, Murphy has Kidd pinned against the wall with an arm across the jerk’s throat. “Your cousin’s lookin’ for ya, fucker,” he growls.

  Wrath rushes over to me. Behind him, Ransom’s on his feet, shock all over his face. He doesn’t make a move toward Wrath, but I won’t take a chance.

  Jamming my hand inside my boot, I draw my revolver.

  “Shit, Trin,” Wyatt says, but his voice comes from a million miles away.

  I drag a long, slow breath in.

  Focus on Ransom’s leg.

  Air flows out of my lungs as I squeeze the trigger.

  Ransom falls back on the couch, screaming and cursing. Warm satisfaction fills my chest, seeing him writhe in pain. It’s still not enough, though. He needs to suffer a lot more to pay for what he’s done.

  “Keep your gun on him,” Wrath says.

  “No problem.” Slowly, I rise from the floor. My eyes never leave Ransom, while Wrath helps the other guys secure Kidd.

  “You all right, Trin?” Rock shouts from across the room.

  I can’t form any words. Doesn’t matter. No one would hear me over Kidd’s yelling and Ransom’s cursing. My head bobs up and down once.

  “Shut him up,” Z says.

  “Get him outside,” Rock orders.

  Someone silences Kidd, and he’s dragged out the front door.

  Wrath strides over and lowers my gun, gently taking it from my hands.

  He gives me a warm smile. Pride etched into every curve and line on his face. “Nice shot.”

  Ransom’s still yowling while a good amount of his blood soaks into the dirty couch cushions.

  Not enough blood.

  I’m absurdly proud of my woman. Not that I ever doubted her, but damn, my girl is fierce as fuck.

  I take a second to grab her by the shoulders and haul her against me for a rough kiss. “You did good, baby. So fuckin’ proud of you.”

  Her dazed eyes meet mine, and she wraps her fingers in my shirt, pulling and twisting until our lips meet again. Hungry, desperate kisses that almost make me forget that this isn’t the time or place.

  She’s panting when we part. “I love you so much, Wyatt.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Ransom groans and rolls to the floor with a thump. “Love you, baby. You too, snookums,” he mimics in a high-pitched voice. “Put a fuckin’ bullet in me now so I don’t have to listen to this shit.”

  Trin moves in and kicks his leg, right above the place she shot him, and he lets loose with an ear-splitting scream.

  “I was planning to shoot your tiny dick off.” She draws her remaining pistol. “We can still make that happen.”

  I snuff out my laughter and seize Trinity’s arm, turning her away from Ransom. “He touch you?”

  Before she answers, Ransom laughs. “Yeah. Grabbed that sweet fucking ass of hers.” He throws a hand up in the air, opening and closing it to demonstrate exactly how he violated my woman. “Real firm. Too bad she has to find a new gym.”

  Rage obliterates every other sound in the room as I unsheathe the knife at my side. Ransom’s still busy running his mouth. He only shuts it when my boot slams his wrist to the floor, pinning him in place.

  “This the hand you touched my woman with?” I ask in a low voice.

  Uncertainty, maybe a hint of fear, enters his cold eyes.

  “Not so chatty now, huh?” I thrust the knife through his palm. My rage forces the blade in fast considering all the bones and tendons in my way. Ransom howls and tries to jerk his hand free, making it worse for himself. My blade’s too wide to keep him pinned to the floor, so I slowly drag it out of his hand, smiling while he screams. He cradles his hand against his chest while I wipe my knife on his pants.

  “That was the hand,” Trinity says. I stand and face her. Knowing what I’m capable of and seeing it firsthand are two different things, but she seems unaffected by the violence I inflicted. Hell, she looks ready to grab my knife and give his other hand a matching hole.

  Proud as I am of her, she doesn’t need to be here for what comes next. “You have to go. Send Teller in.” I lash my foot out, my boot landing against Ransom’s ribs. He groans. “This fuck belongs to him.”

  Her lower lip trembles, but she nods. Without another glance at the pile of trash at my feet, she runs out the door.

  Ransom moans in pain. “I woulda ripped that bitch’s tongue out by now. Who the fuck tries to make a whore into an ol’ lady?”

  He’s trying to bait me so I’ll put him out of his misery quick. “I ain’t here to give you relationship advice, Ransom,” I respond with calm. “Won’t do you any good after tonight.”

  His eyes widen, and I can see his tiny brain trying to come up with another approach. “Which one’s Teller? He the one who fell for Mariella’s innocent act? Christ, you fuckers are stupid.”

  I land another solid kick to his ribs. “You really burn down my gym? Or are you so pathetic you have to take credit for someone else’s work?”

  Bleeding from a couple locations or not, Ransom’s dying to brag to someone about all the shit he’s done. “Yeah, asshole. I did it. Who else would have the stones—”

  The door opens
and Rock steps in.

  “Hey, prez,” Ransom shouts at Rock. “Here to take care of business for your boy?”

  One corner of Rock’s mouth curls up, but he doesn’t respond.

  Ransom tries again. “Shoulda known you caved too easy.”

  Instead of answering, Rock crosses his arms over his chest and stands next to me, silently watching the scene in front of him. The lack of a response seems to unnerve Ransom for a second.

  “Your prospect cried like a little bitch when I lit him up,” Ransom taunts. “Smelled like a fuckin’ pig roast.”

  My face stays neutral, but inside I’m raging. “He was a kid,” I say evenly.

  Setting aside the disgusting mental picture Ransom just offered, I lock all my emotions down. No matter how much I hate doubting Twitch, I brought him into the club. Before Teller ends this fucker, I need to know if Twitch was voluntarily working with Ransom.

  Turns out I don’t have to ask, because Ransom’s dying to spill how fucking clever he is while his blood leaks out on the floor.

  “He was pathetic.” He laughs, which turns into a hacking cough. “Tried bribing him with pussy, then money, but he wouldn’t budge.”

  And there’s my answer. Another reason Ransom needs to suffer. I grind my boot down on his non-bleeding hand until he screams.

  Rock places a hand on my arm, and I back off. “What else you been up to?” Rock asks quietly when Ransom settles down.

  Ransom sneers at the question and cranes his neck toward the door. “Tried to hit that fat, red-headed brother you got working for you, but he’s such a pussy, his girl had to save him.”

  Doesn’t surprise me at all that Ransom’s the one who shot at my gym, narrowly missing putting a bullet through Murphy’s skull. “Yeah, takes a real man to shoot at two unarmed people from a thousand yards away.”

  A small smirk curves Ransom’s mouth, and his eyes drift shut. No way am I lettin’ this fucker fade. My boot thumps against his side. “Uh-uh. Wake the fuck up. You got a long night ahead of you.”

  Slowly, he peels his lids back and seems to be surprised the two of us are still staring down at him. Tough shit—I’m not done with my questions. “Why’d you want my girl so bad?”

  “Figured right before your wedding would be the best way to get at you. Knew that night you came to see Eduardo. How fucked up you were over some piece of ass.” He snorts and shoots a glare at Rock. “Got your pussy prez there to agree to all sorts of stupid shit.”

  Rock snorts, not at all insulted by anything Ransom has to say.

  Anger boils inside of me, though. This prick tried to grab Trinity once before. One of his hangarounds put his filthy hands on my woman because this piece of shit ordered it. I knew it. At the time, I’d swallowed down his lies and now it pisses me the fuck off.

  “Easy,” Rock mutters, as if he knows exactly where my brain went.

  I take a breath and dial back my rising fury. “See, I don’t get you, Ransom. You got an issue with one of us, come at us.” I tap my chest and Rock’s shoulder for emphasis. “Real men don’t go after a woman ’cause he got a beef with her ol’ man.”

  He coughs and struggles to sit up, but Rock presses him back against the floor with a boot to the chest. Ransom slaps his hand against Rock’s leg, which does, well, nothing. He glares up at Rock. “I went at you. You were supposed to die in Slater county jail. After my guard-buddy broke you.”

  Jesus Christ.

  Rock doesn’t flinch at the information. It’s not a surprise Ransom was involved in that. We got our payback against the guard. After tonight all scores should be settled.

  “Thought messin’ with your woman would rattle you.” Ransom must really be praying for a swift death to bring up Hope. “But the minute Izzard squeezed her tits, your boys put him out of commission.” He spits at Rock’s feet.

  Rock moves his foot from Ransom’s chest to his face. One swift kick. Ransom rolls to the side and spits, then grins at us through bloody lips. “See? Best way to get to you since you’re all a bunch of pussies who hand your balls over to your women.”

  I start laughing so hard, Rock glances at me like he’s worried I finally came unhinged. “You got a fucking bullet in your leg courtesy of my fiancée and you’re flopping around like a dying fish, but we’re the pussies. Okay.”

  “Stupid whore got a lucky shot,” he grumbles.

  This time I kick him in the leg. “I’d say your luck ran out.”

  “Fuck you.” He gasps and tries to wrap his hands around his injured leg. “Bitches are good for one thing. Only pussies let women get in the way of business.”

  “Pussy, pussy, pussy.” Rock shakes his head. “Don’t you have any other insults?”

  I glance down at Ransom. “A good woman makes you stronger. Too bad you never figured that out.”

  A few seconds later, Teller limps in.

  “Seems like I fucked your brother up pretty good.” Ransom juts his chin in Teller’s direction.

  I return the smirk. “Maybe for a little while, but he’s about to fuck you permanently.”

  Teller doesn’t move—he isn’t in a joking mood. Rock steps back and meets him by the door. He places a hand on either side of Teller’s head and leans in, whispering something to him that doesn’t reach me. When they’re finished, Rock takes up a position by the door and nods at Teller. The door opens again, and Murphy steps inside. He remains silent as he finds a spot next to Rock.

  “Took you long enough,” I say, when Teller finally reaches my side.

  His grim expression doesn’t change.

  At our feet, Ransom squirms at the sight of my determined brother. It seems to finally sink in that his time is up.

  No one’s coming to save his worthless life.

  This battle with the Vipers that we’ve been locked in for years is about to finally end.

  Ransom struggles to sit up, and we let him. There’s no escape.

  Ignoring Ransom for a second, Teller focuses on me. “Loco’s comin’ up to deal with Kidd.”

  “Good.”

  Crazy laughter spills out of Ransom as he falls back against the floor. “Fuckin’ Loco. Christ, you even managed to turn that crazy motherfucker into a goddamn pussy. Treatin’ whores like fuckin’ supermodels.” He spits.

  Teller’s eyebrows draw down, and he shoots a look at me.

  I shrug. “He’s got some sort of fascination with the word pussy.”

  “Fuck you, pussy.”

  Ignoring Ransom, I place my hand over Teller’s shoulder. “He’s the one who shot at Murphy and your sister,” I explain. “So make it hurt.”

  “No problem,” Teller answers in a voice barely above a whisper.

  Each one of my brothers has the ability to lose their grip and do crazy shit in a rage. Over the years I’ve known Teller, he’s rarely let anyone witness the demon who lives inside him.

  Tonight’s a different story. His anger and anguish cling to him so tight I can almost see it.

  He stands over Ransom and pulls out a long knife. Same one he uses during hunting season to gut deer.

  While I’d wanted to be the one to make Ransom tremble and writhe from the pain I inflicted, my brother needs this more. He needs to purge his guilt over Mariella’s death.

  I won’t leave his side. But this moment, this kill, belongs to Teller.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  When it’s done, I step outside for some much-needed air. Rock’s right behind me. “Where’s Trin?” I ask Z, who’s been outside watching the front of the house and keeping an eye on Kidd.

  He tilts his head. “Down the driveway with Sparky.”

  “Good.” Tonight’s ugliness is far from over, and I don’t want her near what’s gonna go down next.

  Rock starts barking orders at Z. “Get Hoot and Birch up here.” He rattles off a list of supplies he needs the guys to bring.

  “Got a shovel in the back of my truck,” Z says, taking one thing off the list.

  Headlights
wash over the driveway, and we all turn to face the newcomer. Rock’s phone buzzes and he flips it open. “Loco. Finally.”

  Yeah, I’d forgotten about Kidd. Mostly because Z did a good job of trussing the fucker to a tree and gagging him. I nudge Z with my elbow. “He even conscious?”

  He shrugs. “I may have accidentally whacked him into the tree once or twice.”

  “Rock, what’s doin’?” Loco shouts as he steps out of his car. Interesting that he came to meet us in an unknown location by himself. High level of trust right there.

  Rock meets him halfway, and they shake hands. “Thanks for coming out here,” Rock says.

  “Ain’t no rest. It’s all good. This what we do twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, right, Rock?” His voice falters and he glances around, clearly confused but not alarmed about why we brought him here and why we’re all so silent.

  “Hey, big man,” he says as he approaches me.

  “We found your long-lost cousin.”

  His eyes widen and his gaze darts around the area before finally landing on Kidd. “What the fuck?”

  I place my hands on his shoulders forcing him to face me. Touching him was a bad idea, because he reaches for a weapon immediately. Before I have a chance to snarl “calm the fuck down,” Rock and Z draw, aiming at Loco’s head. “Easy, bro,” Z growls.

  When he puts his hands up, I release him and explain. “He jacked my woman tonight.”

  “What? She okay?”

  It takes me a second to answer the unexpected question. “She’s fine. He was working with Ransom.”

  I sense his disbelief. His mistrust of anything I have to say regarding his family, even though he struggles not to show any emotion. “Where’s he at?”

  “Inside,” Teller answers as he comes down the front steps, Murphy right behind him.

  Loco’s not sure where to look first. Teller’s bloody hands. The open door. In my eyes. At Rock. He does a slow sweep of everything, and his shoulders sag. “Fuck,” he mutters.

  Rock walks him inside the house, and a few minutes later he stumbles out—a little greener than he went in. Teller’s quiet. Busy cleaning his hunting knife. Loco makes a point to steer clear of him.