Defiance (20 page)

Mathias

Caspar was stone-faced when he got into the van. He was in the back—safety—and Bish had his favorite AK-47 hanging around his neck, without the safety.

He’d gotten in trouble from the MPs more times than I could count but Bish never gave a shit about rules. Granted, neither did I, but I could fake shit a lot better than he ever could.

One look at Bish’s face and you fucking knew what he was thinking and usually, it wasn’t good.

I saw the black and white when I pulled into the old rest stop lot and I cursed silently and then again with one hand, a long stream of curses that had Caspar asking Bish, “He knows I can see him, right?”

I continued ignoring them both and cursing until Caspar instructed, “Pull in right here. Bishop, wait—I’ll take Mathias out there with me.”

Bishop held up his gun, offering it to Caspar, who shook his head. “Just gonna talk.”

Talk?
As in
,
let’s make a deal with the goddamned cops?

All Bish said was, “This means I can’t kill them?” while I signed,
These cops are with Lance
,
remember.

Caspar looked at me. “Never forget anything that concerns him.”

“You sure I can’t just kill them?” Bish asked again. “Got a shovel in the back if you’re worried about the bodies. Lighter fluid too.”

I stared at him. Caspar was ignoring him in favor of getting out of the van.
Will you quit while you’re ahead?
I signed to Bish, then jumped out of the van to follow Caspar.

“You’re the one who always insists on the lighter fluid,” Bish called after me. I shot Bish the finger and kept walking.

I caught up with Caspar as the cops were getting out of their car.

Cops are Tony and Sal.
Tony’s brother
,
Vince
,
was the one who died.
Tony’s the tall one
, I reminded him.

“Got it,” he said.

You think they’ll try something?

“I think we can take them if they do,” Caspar said, his voice barely registering.

I glanced around the deserted rest area that seemed to have stopped being more than a meeting spot, because there were no bathrooms or food or gas. Only shell casings. And some old blood stains on one of the picnic tables we passed.

No one was stopping here unless they had a death wish.

And yet, here we were.

Caspar cut me the side eye, probably because I’d been giving a running commentary with my signs.

I was also armed, low profile. He had to know that, but I refrained from sharing as he walked right up to the cops.

“Where’s the girl?” Sal demanded of Caspar, who leaned against the car and looked bored and fucking scary as shit at the same time. Maybe it was the scar or his eyes, or just his ability to let his face go stone cold crazy, but even Sal took a small step back. Probably didn’t even realize he did it.

Then again, I’d also taken a step toward Sal and I was no fucking slouch.

Caspar sounded bored when he told them, “Got an opportunity for you.”

Tony sneered. “We don’t need opportunities from gangs.”

“Got an opportunity for you,” Caspar repeated calmly. “Take it, you stay alive. Don’t, can’t promise what the fuck happens to you.”

“Is that a threat?” Tony asked.

“Want me to be clearer?” Caspar’s eyes flashed ice. Tony and Sal assessed me and Bish, who was still in the van, knowing we were as much the wildcards in this situation as Caspar was. “Leave the girl alone.”

“She killed my brother,” Tony spat.

“Way I hear it, your brother tried to fuck her without her permission. And since she’s mine, I don’t take kindly to that shit. She hadn’t done it, I would’ve, make no mistake.”

Both cops stilled. Hell, even I stilled.

“Like I said, leave the girl alone. Give me all the shit you got on her. In return, I’ll hand you a bust. Career making, if that shit still matters on your side of the fence.”

It did—Caspar knew that.

“It’ll also get you a shipment of guns you can sell. Hand some of them over to your government, sell some on your own, I don’t give a shit,” Caspar continued.

“We’re all under the same government,” Tony pointed out.

“I’m not,” Caspar said. “We got a deal?”

A look passed between Tony and Sal that made me want to draw my weapon. I held steady and Caspar didn’t take his eyes from them. The guy was the most relaxed predator I’d ever met, and next to Bish, that was saying a lot.

“Give me the information on the guns,” Tony said. “If it’s good—”

“Give you the info. You leave the girl alone. That’s the deal.” Caspar moved from his lean on the car and took a step forward. “Didn’t say this was a negotiation.”

He rattled off the date and time of the gun run, then added, “Fuck it up, fuck with the girl, I slice you wide open.”

He turned and walked away without looking back. I waited a few beats, staring between the two tough guy cops who looked halfway between scared shitless and confused, and then I followed Caspar.

When I got back into the van, Caspar told me to take right off, so I did.

Bish stared in the side view mirror the entire way back to Defiance. When we entered the gates of the main compound, I signed to Caspar,
You know this is gonna backfire.

Caspar lit one of Bish’s cigarettes and smiled as the smoke drifted around him and signed back,
Counting on it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Caspar’s hackles raised before the alarms rang. He told Mathias to hang with Tru and was out of the tube and up through the escape hatch, Bishop on his six. Rebel was waiting for him and, weapons drawn, they raced through the darkness toward the blaring scream echoing in the stillness.

It was two in the morning.

The intruders could be anyone—those cops. Kian’s boys. A rogue crew looking to worm their way into what Defiance had.

His men had formed the perimeter, were searching the area, spotlights on and facing out to blind whoever might still be hanging around. Someone raced off to check for cars or other bikes.

He and Rebel walked the land on the north side, spreading out enough to scan wide swaths of empty land.

It was quiet. Too fucking quiet, and that always unnerved him. The incessant hum of the generators that powered the warehouse at night was the only noise he heard on this side. He stopped, used his searchlight to bounce around in front of him, see if he could catch anyone trying to make an escape.

“Shit.”

At the violent-sounding curse, Caspar was already moving to Rebel. The man was retching, turned away from Caspar but pointing to the ground a few feet in front of him. He forced himself to look again and then cursed and took a few steps toward him. “Aimee. It’s Aimee, Caspar. Got the Devils’ mark on her.”

Caspar walked slowly over to where Rebel still pointed. All the violence they’d seen, all the violence they’d perpetrated and it was still embedded in them to puke when a woman was hurt. Couldn’t breed that out of most of mankind and he was grateful for that.

For this, for the woman who lay in front of him, he sank to his knees and stared.

The Devils’ mark was carved into her stomach. Deep. Didn’t know if it had been made before she died, but he’d bet yes. Her mouth was still held in a rictus of pain. She was naked. Bloody and dirty.

She’d suffered. Holy hell, had she suffered. Her legs were spread and she was torn. He put a shaking hand on her pulse, sure she couldn’t have survived this.

He couldn’t have been more goddamned wrong. “Reb, she’s still here—get the docs. Get a stretcher.”

Rebel didn’t wait, called for Hammer before coming next to Aimee, gingerly reaching out to hold her hand.

“Sweetheart, who the hell did this to you?” he heard Rebel say. She shook her head. Rebel bent to listen.

“She said she didn’t see. Fuck, Cas...” Rebel’s hand trembled around Aimee’s. The look in the man’s eyes was broken. “Hammer...he’s gonna...”

Caspar stood and met Hammer before he got to her, put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “It’s Aimee. She’s hurt bad.”

He swore Hammer stopped breathing.

“Let the doctors see her,” Caspar was saying when Hammer started to walk forward, woodenly. He looked between his friend and Aimee on the ground and for a long moment, everything stood still.

And then the man let out the most heart-wrenchingly anguished scream he’d ever heard in his life. It chilled him to the fucking bone to hear it, echoing in the night. It was a battle cry. A cry of mourning, and a promise that he would hunt and kill whoever did this to her.

After that frozen moment in time, something Caspar would carry with him the rest of his life, things burst into overdrive. The doctors were there, loading her onto the stretcher, Hammer and Rebel running it toward the infirmary.

“Found tracks for three bikes, but no signs of them,” Cool Joe told him. “Had to be Kian’s crew.”

Caspar wasn’t as sure. Didn’t know why, because Kian was more than capable of this...but something was off. Inside his head was a dull roar when he said, “Double the guards at all the gates. Where was she supposed to be?”

“Diner,” Bishop said. “Her shift ended ten hours ago. They assumed she went home and Wally assumed she stayed late to work.”

“If they’d taken her from outside the diner, they were on our property. Alarms should’ve rung way earlier, not when they were on their way out.” Because what had been done to Aimee had taken more than a little time. The carvings were intricate, the violation evident.

“Going to check, boss,” Lil’jon said, took off without hesitation.

Caspar’s machine was well oiled. Which meant there was a mole. Someone working against his own club.

And Caspar knew exactly who that was.

“This isn’t going down smooth for Lance,” Bishop said as he walked with Caspar up from the field toward the infirmary.

“Count on it, yeah? But you go to Tru and Mathias,” Caspar told him. Bishop looked torn, especially when they found Silas waiting for them when they rounded the corner of the specially built clinic. His arms were crossed and anger radiated off him.

“Caspar—”

“You go, Bish. Watch my girl. Nothing happens to her. I gotta deal with this—no one else can.”

Without another word, Bishop took off and Caspar headed straight for Silas.

“Where the fuck’ve you been?” Silas demanded.

“Step back, brother,” Caspar warned as Rebel came outside. “How is she?”

“Needs some surgery. Tryin’ to stabilize her before they’ll do it. Hammer won’t leave and I’m not gonna be the one to pry him away.”

“Stay with him, Reb,” Caspar told him.

“This was Kian,” Silas said once Rebel closed the door.

“So sure?”

“He’s been around a lot.”

“Yeah? Didn’t hear it from Lance.”

Silas shrugged. He’d never had an end game, never took the MC business end seriously. He liked the parties and the sex but in the end, didn’t have the stomach or the desire to keep the people who depended on him safe or happy. He should’ve taken his scholarship and run with it. Instead, he had a dishonorable discharge, a couple of DUIs and not enough brains to take over Defiance. But he was next in line. If he didn’t want it, Roan would happily step in.

That would all happen over Caspar’s dead fucking body. “My job to protect—why wasn’t I told that Kian’s been spotted?”

“Guess Lance figured you’re too busy with Tru. She can’t be trusted, maybe you can’t either.”

“Those your thoughts or Lance’s?”

“You started a fuckin’ war with the Kill Devils. All Kian wants is what was rightfully Paddy’s. Says if we give Tru over to him, that will go a long way in repairing our relationship.”

Caspar didn’t answer, stared at Silas as the wind picked up around him, biting at him angrily.

“Cas, man, come on. We gotta deal with this,” Silas persisted.

“Tru’s not a fuckin’ playing card—I won’t use her to end anything. She’s not fucking chattel.”

“You haven’t fully claimed her. You won’t,” Silas challenged.

“Don’t make my bed for me, brother. You have no idea how much I’ve claimed her. How many ways.”

Silas’s eyes snapped with anger. “Tru’s damaged goods.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“You’re willing to throw Defiance away for her?”

“I’m not throwing anything away for her.”

“She left once before, Caspar.”

“Know that. I’m the one who took her out of here.” He watched that sink into Silas’s brain.

“You kidding me? You knew where she was the whole goddamned time?”

“Yeah. Before the Chaos, for sure. After that, I lost track.” Wasn’t the time to play his hand about Kian. Not yet.

Silas stepped right up to him, toe to toe. “What the fuck? You knew how much I missed her. You knew and you didn’t—”

“I knew and I made her mine, Silas. Took her out of here, made love to her under the stars and made goddamned good and sure to ruin her for anyone else. Tru’s mine. Always was. And trust me, she didn’t fight me at all.”

Silas’s nostrils flared. “You goddamned bastard.”

“You didn’t protect her from shit. You’d hit her sooner or later, same way you do Liv. And then I’d have to fuckin’ kill you.”

“And what, you’re better than that?”

Silas really didn’t know any better. “Yeah, Silas. Don’t need to hit a woman or force her to have sex with me. Never have, never will.”

He turned to walk away, aware that Silas could turn on him like a raging bull. Silas hadn’t been a successful linebacker for nothing. He’d perfected the tackle slam, although after that, the guy didn’t have a clue about fighting.

Caspar heard the heavy footsteps, braced himself for the slam and the two of them went tumbling into the dirt. He rolled Silas, using his own force against him, until they hit the wall of the next building. Silas lay on his back on the dirt, disoriented, and Caspar raised on an elbow and threw his body over Silas’s, pinning him.

He punched Silas in the face, breaking his nose in the process. Silas got his hand wrapped around Caspar’s throat, and the men continued to fight until Caspar wondered how far this would go.

* * *

There was a commotion outside the door. Mathias waved her back and Tru picked up a weapon of her own, a Sig Sauer she’d found in Caspar’s room.

She’d learned to shoot during her time with the Kill Devils. She wouldn’t sit by helplessly and let Mathias take the brunt of whatever was happening.

They’d watched the footage on the security cameras—the men surrounded something on the field and then she watched a stretcher being run by Hammer and Rebel.

Roan and a few of his friends came marching up to Caspar’s tube about fifteen minutes later. She watched, praying they’d veer off, but they didn’t. They pounded on the door.

“I’ll break it the fuck down if I have to,” Roan bellowed.

Mathias turned toward Tru and raised a brow. Shook his head and he didn’t look worried at all. He put a finger on his chin, and stared toward the door, deep in thought. The pounding continued and she knew Roan would slam his way in here.

Mathias, it seemed, had other ideas, which included opening the door for the brick wall of a man.

“This is all her fuckin’ fault.” Roan pointed at Tru.

“What’s my fault? What happened?” she asked and Roan smirked.

“Your friend got what you deserved.”

“What’s he talking about?” she asked Mathias, but before he could answer, Roan was saying, “I’m taking you to Kian’s crew now, before the Kill Devils rape all your friends.”

“Oh my God.” She put her hands to her face. “Who was hurt? Who was it?”

Roan stared her down. “Aimee. Now let’s go.”

She turned to Mathias for confirmation about Aimee, and he signed,
I
don’t know.

And then he signed again—Roan wouldn’t know what he said, but thanks to her crash course, she did.
Have to get through me first.
Not happening.

Three men against one.

Caspar would never have left her with someone who couldn’t handle three against one. And like he read her mind, Mathias looked grim when he signed,
Anyone gets through me
,
shoot them
.

Roan stepped aside and let one of his men attack without warning, coming through the small doorway. Mathias held the doorway, wouldn’t let any of the men farther than two steps inside. Because they could only come in one at a time, they ended up getting slammed around, taken down with what seemed like a practiced ease.

Roan’s two friends, boys she hadn’t recognized, were down. Now it was Roan and Mathias, and watching the fight, she understood the difference between a man trained to kill and one whose anger led him to it.

When it was over, Mathias’s arm was hanging at a funny angle and the look on his face was pure pain. But he was still standing, which was more than she could say for Roan and his cronies.

Mathias dragged them out of the tube and suddenly, Bishop was there, helping to get the men outside. Finally, he came inside the tube, said, “Brace yourself.”

He put a hand on Mathias’s shoulder and Mathias winced, cursed silently. Then he moved close to the doorjamb, his good shoulder against it. Bishop didn’t wait, and with a violent push, got the shoulder back in its socket.

“Is it true—about Aimee?” she asked and Bishop nodded. He looked pale and angry as he said, “She’s with the doctors. I don’t know more than that.”

“How bad?”

“Bad, Tru.”

“Where’s Caspar?” she asked Bishop. “Is he okay?”

Bishop pointed to the security screen and she saw Caspar and Silas fighting, which explained why he wasn’t in here with her.

“Bad shit happening,” Bishop said.

Worse shit about to happen
, Mathias signed as they watched Lance coming toward the fighting men.

“We have to go to him,” she told them.

“Got my orders to keep you out of there,” Bishop said.

“You can’t leave him out there alone like that.” She looked down at the gun and then at them.

“You’re gonna shoot us to get past us?” Bishop asked, an eyebrow cocked.

“No. You’re coming with me and if I have to shoot someone to stop them from hurting my man, I will.”

Bishop whistled and Mathias signed something like,
Don’t bother to try to stop her.

“About time someone got that straight,” she muttered as she pushed past them, stepping on Roan for good measure on her way out of the tube.