Striker: No Prisoners MC Book 1 (23 page)

Goddamn it. This was Striker’s nightmare. This was the exact reason he never should have dirtied Lila with his hands. The very second the Grimm Brothers pulled away, Striker snatched his gun and hopped on his bike. He tore back toward the clubhouse. Most of the guys should still be there.

What the hell was he thinking, getting involved with her? Lila didn’t deserve any of this shit. She was the very essence of goodness, and in a few short weeks his life had stained her. Christ, there were countless people alive today because of Lila, because she used her skills and knowledge to save them. No wonder she looked at him with such revulsion when he agreed to hand over the thief. She was a healer, and he was a killer.

When he got her back, he wanted to wrap his arms around her, and hold her forever, so nothing could ever hurt her again. Then he wanted to strip her, and take his time loving every inch of her, erasing any memory of Snake’s touch from her mind. He wanted to watch as she came apart in his arms while he poured himself into her welcoming body.

What he needed to do, though, was distance himself before he poisoned her. Because of him she would spend over twelve hours with a sadistic son of a bitch. He assumed she’d be done with him, never want to speak to him again, and she’d be smart to walk away.

Striker made the thirty-minute trip in nineteen minutes. Dust and gravel flew across the lot as he came to a harsh stop in front of the clubhouse.

“Who the fuck is that?” Jester’s pissed off voice carried through the open doors of the garage bay.

As he killed the engine, Striker saw Jester stomp toward him.

“Striker? Why the hell are you tearing in here spraying shit all over? You’re the one who usually bitches at people for pulling that.”

Striker dismounted and jogged toward the clubhouse. “Need you inside. Now!”

“Jesus Christ, bro! What happened to your face?”

Striker hadn’t given much thought to the beating he took from Snake’s men. He glanced down at the blood splattered across his shirt. When he saw it, the pain in his face registered, but he ignored it. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered beyond finding out who betrayed the club so he could get Lila back before the trauma of being Snake’s captive destroyed her.

“Do you need me to call Lila? Have her come check you out?” Jester increased his stride length to keep up with Striker.

“No I need you to get the fuck inside.”

“Striker your face is all busted up, at least go clean it off.”

“No time for that shit.” He ripped the door open, and stormed into the clubhouse. Shiv was at the bar with Hook and Acer who both jumped up when they caught sight of Striker’s battered face.

“Christ! What happened to you?” Shiv was the first to speak.

“My face doesn’t matter.”

“Sit, Striker.” Shiv tried to push him into a chair.

“I don’t need to sit.” Striker shook of his president’s hold.

“I wasn’t asking you.” This time Shiv was successful in shoving Striker to a chair. “Jester, grab him a wet towel to clean his ugly face. Acer, get him a drink.”

A moment later, a glass with an amber brown liquid appeared before him, the near full bottle next to it. “Drink it,” Shiv ordered. “Calm your shit down, and tell us what the fuck happened.”

He threw down the drink hoping it would help him get the words out. When Shiv held out the bottle to refill Strikers glass, he shook his head. If he was going to pull this off he needed all cylinders firing. “Lila and I were ambushed by six Grimms on the way to my house.”

“Fuck!” Shiv bit out. “Doc okay?”

Striker shook his head as he stared into the empty glass. Fear for her clogged his throat, and he felt tears fill his eyes for the first time since as far back as he could remember. “No. They took her.” His voice sounded rough.

“What?” Jester roared as he returned from the bathroom with a wet cloth. He shoved it in Striker’s hands and began pacing.

Striker used the warm towel to clean the blood off his face. The skin around his eye felt puffy, and throbbed with a sharp ache, but he ignored it. He could breathe without difficulty so his nose probably wasn’t broken. There were much bigger problems to tackle.
 

When he was done he tossed the towel under his chair. “Looks like Jackal is no longer in charge. Don’t know how it happened, but Snake is running the show now.”

Shiv paled a bit at that news. “What a fuckin’ mess. This blows our deal right out of the water.” He grabbed the bottle and took a long pull.

“It gets worse. Snake claims one of us stole a fuck ton of drugs from the Grimms. Gave me until midnight to find the drugs and hand over the guilty party. Lila is collateral.”

Silence filled the room for a long, tense moment.

Jester stopped pacing and gaped at Striker. “You coulda told me Snake had a sex change and I wouldn’t be as fuckin’ shocked as I am now. Think he was shittin’ you?”

Striker turned his glass over and slid it back and forth between his hands on the table. “I think he believes one of us did it. Whether or not it’s true, I don’t know.”

“And if we don’t deliver on time?” Shiv asked.

Striker looked him right in the eye. “Says he’s in the market for a new ol’ lady.”

Expletives came from each man as Striker’s meaning sank in.

“Damn, I’m sorry this touched your woman, Striker.”

Striker looked at Shiv. The older man sat with his head rested on his hands, which were propped up by his elbows on the table. In that position he looked tired, defeated.

The men were quiet for another moment before Acer spoke. “Okay, so we get on this fast, find the fucker, strip his patch, and toss him to the Grimms. Saves us the trouble of getting rid of him.”

Striker nodded. “I agree, though I told Snake to expect him in less than perfect condition. I want a few shots at him before we hand him over.”

They all nodded.

“Who do we look at for this? I don’t even know where to fuckin’ begin.” Shiv shook his head. “Never would have thought one of us would do something like this.”

Striker dropped his head. What a disaster. They were sentencing a brother to death, a fact that Lila had clearly picked up on. The way Lila had stared at him when she realized the guilty man would be handed over to the Grimm Brothers was burned into his memory. Horror and disgust had been written plainly all over her beautiful face. But worse, was how she wouldn’t even look at him right before Snake rode off with her. Striker knew that as long as he lived he’d never scrub the image of Lila on the back of Snake’s bike from his brain.

“I have an idea who it is.” Jester spoke, and his words crashed Striker back into the moment.

Each man gaped at him.

“Do you fucking know something about this, Jester?” Striker’s voice was deadly, warning the other man what would happen if he’d been keeping something of this magnitude from him.

“No, VP. No fucking way I’d let something like that slide. And I could be completely wrong about my suspicions, but I think Rock might be using.”

“Rock? You’re shittin’ me.” Rock was a newer member, who had received his patch a little over a year ago. Striker was surprised, he’d been one of the best prospects they ever had. Took all the shit they gave him as though it was nothing. Not for one second would Striker have guessed he was using drugs. “Why do you think that?”

“Few times we’ve been out on runs, I thought he might be high. His behavior’s been gettin' erratic. I also overheard him talking about money troubles.”

Striker considered Jester’s words. He looked at Shiv to gauge his reaction. Shiv reached into his pocket and drew out a thick cigar. His eyes were sad as he lit it. This would weigh heavily on him, that he let a man into the club who could hurt their family.

“He has been off lately. I knew he was having money troubles as well, and just figured he was stressed. But now that I think about it, he definitely could have been stoned.” Acer shook his head in disgust as he added his thoughts.

“Big leap from doing some drugs to stealing two-hundred-fifty thou worth of product from the Grimms.” Shiv puffed out a stream of smoke and watched it swirl toward the ceiling.

Jester let out a low whistle. “Two-fifty? Shit, no wonder Snake’s on the warpath. We’d tear their club apart if the situation was reversed.”

Striker nodded. Jester was right. Had someone stolen that much from the No Prisoners, they’d be on the receiving end of a full out attack. Difference was, they’d never go after someone’s ol’ lady as payback. There were just some lines you didn’t cross. Sort of an outlaw code of honor. Snake didn’t seem to buy into that. “Obviously we need to be one hundred fucking percent sure about this. The Grimms aren’t going to just give him a spanking and let him walk.”

“I think we should straight on confront him.” Acer snagged the bottle from Shiv and took a swig. “He’s fucked up right now. If it’s him, I think he’ll piss himself to get back in your good graces.”

“Do it now. At his house. This way we can see if he has the shit there. Get Gumby and Hook in on the deal as well. We gotta move fast. Bastard only gave us twelve hours.” Shiv looked at Striker as he issued the order.

All three men nodded. “There will need to be retaliation,” Striker said. “We cannot let this slide. They have my woman. I don’t even want to think about—” He stopped, unable to complete the sentence. He had to believe Snake would hold up his end of the bargain and leave Lila unharmed until the deadline. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to function.

Shiv’s hand landed on Striker’s shoulder with a firm squeeze. “He’ll pay for this, son. I promise you that. But you need to promise me you won’t go cowboy on us and try to take him out yourself. When the time is right we’ll cut that slithering bastard’s head off, but we’ll do it right. You hear me?”

Striker would be lying if he said the idea of going after Snake on his own hadn’t crossed his mind, but Shiv was right. It would be smarter, and safer, to plan the retaliation as a club.

“Loud and clear, Pres.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Okay boys, let’s go catch us a traitor.”

Acer and Jester walked out to the bikes leaving Shiv and Striker at the table. Shiv stood and pulled Striker up for a fierce hug. He slapped him on the back as he whispered, “Your woman’s tough, and about as smart as Einstein. She’ll be okay brother.”

A hint of a smile ghosted Striker’s lips at Shiv’s words. “Thanks, man.”

An hour later, Striker, Gumby, Hook, and Jester convened outside Rock’s front door. Acer waited on his bike at the edge of the driveway. The neighborhood was shit. Someone needed to guard the bikes and keep an eye out for trouble. Acer drew the proverbial short straw.

Striker glanced at Rock’s house. He used the term house lightly. Rock lived in the trashy part of town, in a rundown two-bedroom shack. It looked like crap on a good day, but today it looked even worse. The front had two windows, one on each side of the door. Boards covered one window while the other had a large crack straight down the center.

It made sense now, the dilapidated house, and the less than desirable neighborhood. Rock pissed all his money away on drugs. Damn, he’d seemed like such a great addition to the club, and Striker couldn’t get over the idea of his betrayal.

Rock had a great personality, always joking and upbeat. He was a favorite with the ladies as well, although Striker couldn’t imagine any of them coming back to this hole with him and deciding to spend the night.

Shaking his head in disgust at the entire situation, Striker used the side of his fist to pound on the door. The house remained quiet though they knew he was home. He’d partied last night with a few other guys who told Striker Rock left with a broad, taking her back here.

Striker limited the number of people who knew about the possibility of Rock’s betrayal to the group that was here at the house and Shiv. Until they were certain, there wasn’t any point in rattling the whole club.

After a minute he nodded to Jester who tried the doorknob. It was locked, but the door was so shoddy that one good shove from Jester’s giant frame and it popped right off the hinges. Oh well. There was a good chance Rock wouldn’t have a need for that door much longer anyway.

The foursome strode into the quiet house, and all stopped short when the appalling conditions became apparent. Striker had been inside once, about six months ago, but for what, he couldn’t recall. He remembered the place was a dump, but what they saw in front of them was beyond disgusting. Fast food wrappers littered the floor along with empty beer and liquor bottles. One tall standing lamp was lit in the corner, and provided a fair amount of light since the lampshade appeared to be missing. The natural light was limited with the boarded window, and a smoky haze swam through the air.

“Jesus.” Gumby held an arm across his nose and coughed. “This place smells like shit. What the fuck is going on with him?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say he was high more often than not these days.” Jester ventured into the room and peered down at a coffee table littered with hypodermic needles, rubber tubing and burned spoons.

“Looks like you were right about him, Jest,” Striker said, his voice filled with revulsion. “Fucking idiot. Let’s find him, and see if Snake’s shit is here. Christ, what a fuck up.”

The men hazarded deeper into the house, toward Rock’s bedroom. Striker arrived first, and nudged the thin door open with his foot. He wasn’t going to touch a damn thing in this filthy building if he could avoid it.

When he stepped into the room, he turned his attention toward the bed. Sure enough, Rock was passed out face up on the mattress with one arm thrown over his head. A sheet covered the lower half his body, and the other arm lay at his side. Track marks dotted the crook of his elbow, and even more drug paraphernalia topped the nightstand next to the bed.

A woman slept next to Rock, sprawled out face down, with her naked ass on display.

Gumby was next to wander in, with Jester and Hook on his heels. “Well lookie here!” Gumby said as he gleefully rubbed his hands together. “Rock got himself a little action last night. Nice ass. Too bad she’s probably a crack whore.”