Page 8

TALLY

“Nice place,” Wreck commented after he, Kit, Tie, and I pulled up to the curb outside Kat’s house and turned off our engines.

Curtains fluttered in the windows of surrounding houses, some with faces peeking through the cracks. The suburban street was obviously not accustomed to having four rumbling Harleys invade their quiet little neighborhood. There was no doubt in my mind that someone had their finger hovering over their phone, waiting for us to even breathe wrong so they could call the cops.

Kit removed his helmet and sat it on his handlebars, studying Kat’s house. “The police tape really gives it a little something extra.”

“Yeah, something like ‘no one is home, so please steal everything inside.’ ” I climbed off my ride and walked up the path to the front door of Kat’s house, tearing away the single strip of yellow Do Not Cross tape stuck to the front door. It should have never been left there, like a damn beacon to every criminal in the area. I tried the handle, but it was locked, so I shifted to the window a few feet away, and cupped my hands around my face to see inside.

It was a fucking mess.

The television on the wall was completely shattered, and from what I could see of the kitchen, every single cupboard was open, and their contents coated the floor. Broken jars and glasses, food that was probably starting to fucking smell.

Then there was the large blood stain coating the gray sofa. But what had me clenching my fists was the Christmas tree lying across the floor. There was torn wrapping paper tossed about, but from what I could see, not one fucking present remained.

They’d taken those too.

Tie stepped up beside me, squinting to see through the glass and scanning the damage. “Well, that tells you everything doesn’t it,” he fumed, shaking his head.

I stepped back, looking at him with a raised brow. “What do you mean?”

He tapped on the glass. “These guys aren’t from a dangerous crime syndicate or something like that. They’re petty crims. The kind who don’t make a lot of money doing whatever they do and need to steal Christmas presents to sell or trade.”

A twelve-year-old’s Christmas presents.

And I knew Kat.

I would guarantee she’d been saving and working her ass off for whatever had been wrapped up under that tree. That was what she did. She was independent, strong, and determined to reach her goals, no matter how many mountains she had to climb.

And she’d climb them all for Dylan.

“Are you Tally?”

Tie and I turned back to the street and saw a young woman walking up the driveway, Wreck, and Kit was right behind her.

I nodded. “I am. You must be Eve.” Kat had called ahead, letting her neighbor know we’d be coming by and that we needed to talk to her about what had happened. Though, mainly I wanted to know who had done it and where I could find them. “You want to let me know the details?”

She pulled her sleeves down over her hands and wrapped them around herself. She wasn’t young, but the way she pulled into herself and kept her distance from us screamed abuse. Not to mention the glaring bruise across her cheek, a reminder that we were doing the right thing by coming to let this asshole know who he should not fuck with.

“Milo Granger,” she said with absolute disdain. “He’s the leader of this little street gang called the Sixth Street Sinners. My brother Karl got caught up with them for a little bit, but he’d just moved in with me and got a good job, so he went to tell Milo he wanted out. Milo accused Karl of stealing drugs and money from him, saying he couldn’t leave until he’d paid him back.”

I scoffed loudly. “He didn’t like that he was losing a man.”

Her head bobbed up and down. “When Karl said no, Milo stabbed him with a pocket knife. Karl managed to drive to my place, but he was bleeding. I didn’t know what else to do, so I brought him over to Kat.”

Kat didn’t blame her for what happened—she’d been clear about that.

Eve was doing what she had to for her family, and that was something I knew damn well.

“Your brother make it?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Barely. After Milo watched Kat and Dylan drive away, he and his buddies trashed the place, grabbed what they could, and ran. Cops showed up not long after.”

I was ready to be done with this asshole and head back home to Alabama. “We want to have a few words with Milo. You know where we can find him?”

She scrunched up her nose. “Yeah. He lives downtown in this old condemned place. Hold on, I’ll find the address.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. “Just do one thing for me?”

I looked to Kit, who shrugged.

We weren’t exactly in the business of making promises, but I would still hear her out. “What’s that?”

She pushed her shoulders back, lifting her chin despite the tears in her eyes that sparkled in the sunlight. “Those few words you have with him, could you make sure they hurt?”

I didn’t even have to think.

The words fell straight from my mouth.

“Count on it.”

***

The roar of our Harleys as we pulled onto the street Eve had shown us was anything but subtle. Their rumble shook houses and made windows rattle as we rode by. The vibrations themselves were intimidating enough. Add in the fact that I’m sure I looked like I was ready to rip someone’s head off, and we probably made a fairly scary sight. So imagine my surprise when we pulled up to this run-down shack masquerading as a house, and the damn prick I was looking for stepped out onto the porch.

Kat’s description of him had been on point.

Post Malone, but on crack.

I kicked out my stand and steadied my ride before ripping off my helmet and storming toward him.

“Tally, be smart,” Kit warned as I reached the stairs and took two at a time.

“Who the hell are y—” I drove my helmet straight into his stomach, sending him flying back through the open doorway. I followed with my brothers right on my heels.

There were a handful of people inside, mostly young, impressionable boys who looked no older than maybe eighteen. Most of them were too stunned to move. The one who had the balls to reach for the gun on the broken coffee table in front of him was too slow—Tie already had a 9mil pressed to the kid’s temple.

I handed my helmet to Kit and bent down. I grabbed a fist full of Milo’s shirt and lifted him off the floor before driving my fist into his face and dropping him back down. “You wanna threaten someone I care about? This is going to be your one and only warning,” I snapped, stepping back as he fought to pull himself to his feet, huffing and puffing like a bull preparing to charge.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Milo protested before swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his face. “But you’re making a big fucking mistak—?”

I swung again, and my fist connected with the cocky bastard’s jaw.

He jolted back, hitting the wall behind him with a hard thump and crumpling to the floor. He was right at home there, just another piece of trash to add to the atmosphere of the run-down crack den he called home. The décor included broken furniture, plates of food growing their own ecosystems, and the subtle smell of urine lingered in the air, indicating that the yellowish color of the carpet was not a design choice.

Just breathing the air in that shit hole made my skin crawl, but I had a message to send, and I was going to make sure that message was incredibly fucking clear. Shards of glass from the broken windows crunched under my shitkickers as I took another step toward Milo and placed my boot across his fucking neck.

His eyes grew wide, and he clawed at the carpet, struggling and squirming like a cockroach as I placed more and more pressure on his airway. “The house you invaded a couple of nights ago while chasing Karl,” I explained as calmly as possible. My patience for this skeezy back-alley addict was wearing thinner by the second. “You threatened to go after the woman and child who managed to get the hell out of there.”

I leaned down, fighting the urge to simply snap his neck with my boot.

“He’s not gonna be able to hear you if he passes out,” Tie noted from behind me. I looked back at him, and he chuckled lightly, shaking his head and holding his hands up. “Just saying.”

Tie was handy to have as a voice of reason when shit like this was going down—no matter how much I hated him for being right at that moment.

Just as Milo’s eyes began to bulge from his skull, I let out a heavy sigh and pulled back a couple of steps. Milo rolled onto his stomach, gagging and coughing, spitting blood everywhere.

Just another bodily fluid to add to the décor.

The only reason I didn’t simply put a bullet in this asshole’s head and be done with it was that the cops were still looking for his dumb ass. And it would result in the kind of attention I didn’t want or need if they showed up here and found him dead.

“See, Milo, I’m just here to let you know if you ever go back to that house, drive down that street, or even sneeze close to that neighborhood, I will find your ass.” Kit chuckled behind me. He wasn’t only my president—he’d also been my best friend since high school. It wasn’t that he’d never seen me ready to kill some crackhead who hadn’t directly done something to the club.

But he’d never seen me this way over a woman.

She wasn’t just any woman, though.

She was Kat.

Kat was a piece of my past that I had regretted for fucking years. I didn’t give her what she wanted or needed, so she walked away, and honestly, I didn’t blame her.

I fucked up, and this was me making it right.

But also, when I got back to Alabama, she was going to know that I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

I crouched down next to Milo, slamming my hand against his back. “Are we clear? Because if you’re really struggling to understand, maybe I should just end—”

“No!” he choked, his entire body convulsing. “It’s clear… all clear.”

“Fucking excellent,” I exclaimed, getting to my feet.

As we backed out, none of the other young gang members moved to help their leader. They watched him cry and puke all over the floor like the pathetic piece of shit he was, making it perfectly clear that there would probably be a change of leadership soon.

“Milo didn’t strike me as the brightest crayon in the box,” Kit stated as we sauntered down the uneven concrete path to where our motorcycles sat, gleaming in the sunlight.

I grabbed my handlebars and steadied the large chrome monster before throwing my leg over and sitting back.

“You really think it will be safe for Kat and Dylan to come back here?” Kit questioned.

The plan was to give the cops a heads-up, and make sure Milo got locked up for a long fucking time.

But my faith in law enforcement wasn’t all that high.

I couldn’t say for sure that there wouldn’t be more issues.

“Not really,” I answered honestly, rolling my shoulders back. “Which is why I’m going to convince them to stay in Troy.”

Wreck snorted. “And how do you think you’re gonna pull that off?”

There was only one answer.

“Christmas.”