Page 16 of Property of Scythe (Kings of Anarchy MC: Ohio #1)

I ’m unusually chipper the following morning, and it’s got everything to do with Lottie. I spent the entire night fucking her as often as possible, and I should have been tired. I’m not.

I walk downstairs and realize two things. One, Mountain is back. He’s grinning at me like a goddamn fool. So are Voodoo and Phantom. Two, I fucking missed church, and no one called me out on it.

Well, shit.

That explains why all my club brothers are gathered in the bar, waiting for me to show up. I scratch the back of my neck and sip on my coffee, leveling them all with a hard stare.

“Get your asses in the chapel.”

Chairs scrape the floor, and a few snickers escape from the men because I’m not ever going to hear the end of this shit. They’re going easy on me right now, but that’s because they know I spent the night claiming my ol’ lady.

Once the chapel doors close, I bring the meeting to order. “ There’s a hell of a lot to cover today, but I want to welcome back Mountain and Voodoo.”

Some of the guys cheer while a few slap them on their backs.

“And I’m making this official. Lottie is my ol’ lady and she’s agreed to my property patch. So she’s getting inked and a cut.” The pride in my voice is unmistakable.

Before I met Lottie, I didn’t think I’d ever find a woman I wanted by my side as much as I wanted her in my bed.

Phantom grins. “About time, Pres.”

“Congrats, brother,” Mountain adds.

The guys all offer their good wishes, and I thank them. This club is about more than fucking women, riding motorcycles, and making money. We want to build something that endures. That’s family, brotherhood, and a way of life for the next generation. This is proof.

There are secrets Lottie doesn’t know about us yet, and I won’t reveal them until it’s time.

The men in this room have all been brought together because of our DNA, the connection to the town of Raven’s Crest, and our love of bikes.

In this room, we’ve formed a bond and a club.

There are things said and done here that the townsfolk will never know.

“We lost a brother. He wasn’t a patch yet, but Chris is in our hearts, and he won’t be forgotten. We’ll have to bury him soon.”

The men are somber. It hits us all hard that Chris is gone. He was a great prospect and a good soul. He’ll be missed.

Phantom and Mountain pass around glasses. When everyone has a shot of whiskey, we lift them high.

“To Chris,” I toast.

They all repeat after me, downing their shots.

We’ll grieve later. Now is not the time.

“There’s just one thing to focus on for tonight,” I begin. “We’re setting a trap for a clown. ”

That’s when the room gets rowdy.

We form a plan and wait for nightfall. We’ll be ready.

I find Lottie after church. She’s in Mila’s room, sitting on the floor and playing with dolls.

My daughter’s smile warms my heart. She needs a mother figure in her life.

Emma is great, but she’s a babysitter and friend, not a mother.

She’s young, and she doesn’t have the same presence or connection to Mila that Lottie has. It’s not a bad thing, just different.

I lean against the door, watching them until Mila notices.

“Daddy!”

She jumps up and rushes to me, throwing her little arms around my waist for a hug. I will never tire of that greeting.

Lottie stands and smiles. “We’re going to have a tea party later.”

“Oh? Sounds fun.”

I hold out my hand, and Lottie takes it. “I need to talk to Lottie, munchkin. You play and be a good girl. Okay?”

“Can Pappy come up and play with me?”

“I’ll ask him.”

She hugs Lottie and then runs back to her dolls, pulling out a brush to comb through all their hair. It’ll take a while.

“What do we need to talk about?” Lottie asks as we enter the hall.

“The plan for tonight.” I lead her downstairs and into the bar area, sitting at an empty table. “I think the killer is going to come back during the festival.”

She sighs. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“He’s not going to give up until he gets what he wants. That’s not happening, so the club is going to deal with him.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Stay here. ”

“With Mila?”

“Yes. I have a panic room and I’m going to lock you both in it until this is handled.”

A panic room? “Is Mila going to be okay with it?”

“She will be if you’re with her. You can make it a game or a sleepover. Anything to get her excited and keep her from the truth.”

“But won’t the killer know I’m not there?”

I already thought of that. “Yes, but he won’t be able to resist because I’m going to piss him off.”

Her eyes widen, and a brief look of fear crosses her features. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“He has to be injured after you hit him with the Hummer. He’s probably desperate at this point. I’ve got to lure him in before he does something crazy.”

“Like drop off a severed arm?”

Yeah. She has me there. “I know, but he’s angry now. A lot more than before you hit him.”

“He’ll want me, Scythe.”

“And that’s not an option.” I tug her onto my lap. “You need to stay here. I won’t risk you.”

“I appreciate that, but what if he comes here looking for me?”

Fuck. It’s my biggest concern. “I don’t think it’ll happen, but the panic room will protect you. He can’t get inside.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

I capture her mouth in a kiss, pushing my tongue through the seam and tasting her. She’s sweet and intoxicating. Heaven in the middle of hell.

As the president of this club, I have to take care of business, but I don’t want to leave her or Mila. It’s creating havoc in my head.

“We’ll be safe, Scythe,” she assures me.

I hope she’s right.

THE LINES OUTSIDE FEAR Farm are the longest yet.

They stretch all the way to Mystic Emporium and Butter Bliss Bakery.

Granny Jo is taking advantage of the crowd and has her door open, enticing customers with maple-glazed donuts, pumpkin bars, and snickerdoodles fresh from the oven.

The Mystic is brewing up a vat of spiced cider outside the entrance while several witches sell the drink to passersby.

It’s cooler out, and now that we’re into September, the days aren’t quite as long as summer.

The crowds are bundled up a bit more against the chill, and there’s a buzz of excitement as the leaves begin to change color and fall from the trees.

Phantom joins me as we walk through the festival, checking in with all the employees, vendors, and actors to ensure they’re aware of the psycho clown.

We have protocols in place, and we’re using the buddy system, so no one is out here alone and without help in case of emergency.

But not everyone is here. I’ve left several club members at The Barn, along with Hangman, the prospects, and Boomer.

If the psycho turns up there, we’ll know.

For now, I’m focusing on the festival. There are quite a few returning customers, and I like to make my rounds, ensuring everyone is having a good time.

“The wait for the hayride is over an hour and a half,” Phantom informs me. “I’ve got a few actors out there engaging the crowd, so they aren’t bored.”

“Good call.”

“The corn maze is moving steadily, with a short wait of about thirty minutes. I’m not seeing any sign of trouble anywhere.”

“It’s early,” I warn him.

“I know. Just keeping you up to date.”

I appreciate it. I’m trying to keep tabs on my club members, the festival, the visitors, and the attractions, so I have an idea of what is happening at all times.

It’s an impossible task, but I do it anyway.

We’ve used two-way radios in the past when the crowds get this big, and we might have to start utilizing them again.

Tonight, I’m too wired with energy to worry about it.

“I get it. Have you seen Mountain?”

“He’s by the hayride. Said something about switching out actors so it doesn’t get stale for repeat riders.”

Makes sense. “Did he have his axe?”

“Yeah. It’s strapped to his back. Guess what costume he chose?”

“A lumberjack,” I deadpan.

Phantom snorts. “Oh, you’ve played this game before.”

We both chuckle. Mountain is a lumberjack. His family owns Coleman Lumber Company. He splits the ownership with his four brothers.

“Do you think he’s going to show?”

“The psycho clown? Yeah. He’s too fucking narcissistic to miss the opportunity.”

“That’s probably because we made a new prop with a noose around an Art the Clown costume and left it where he could find it.”

Phantom was generous enough to donate his costume for it.

“Yeah, it was a killer idea,” I laugh .

Phantom shakes his head. “That was awful. Worst joke ever.”

Yeah. Probably.

Phantom pauses beside me as we watch over the line outside the corn maze. He fidgets as he cracks his knuckles. I know he wants to smoke, but this is a non-smoking area on purpose. All the straw, dry leaves, and hay will burn up in a flash.

It’s too risky. All it takes is a strong gust of wind and . . .wait. “Do you smell smoke?”

Phantom sniffs the air. “Fuck.”

We run into the corn maze, pushing through the crowd as I see black smoke rising into the air. It’s coming from a section in the back part of the maze with the largest stacks of hay bales.

I race beside Phantom as he pulls out his phone and dials Mountain. “Tell him we need water now!”

I don’t want to use fire extinguishers because that makes a mess that fucking sucks to clean up. Water will dry. Even if it gets muddy around here, it’s better than chemicals and foam.

We find the source of the smoke, and it’s a small fire, smoldering, but nothing we can’t handle. We spotted it in time. If it had gone unchecked, it would have burned down the maze and ruined the attraction for the rest of the year.

Phantom pulls a water bottle from his pocket, and I do the same. Together, we pour enough liquid to smother the flames. It’s a crisis averted, and I’m relieved.

When Mountain finds us, there’s nothing left but a bit of smoke. “Well. Damn. I guess we’re good.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd that a fire started right here?” Phantom asks, gesturing to the wet hay bales. “There’s no accelerant or anything flammable.”

He’s right.

Mountain shakes his head. “I hope this isn’t a distraction. ”

If it is, it’s well played. We’re all here instead of checking on the rest of the festival and hayride. “Go back to the hayride, Mountain. Phantom, you’re with me. We’re walking the whole damn lot.”

An hour later, I stop at the shack. Phantom is staying close to the corn maze.

Mountain hasn’t moved from the hayride. Both the main attractions are safe.

There are so many people playing games and walking around that it’s hard to tell if the psycho has returned.

He might not always use his Art the Clown costume.

I’m guessing by now he’s ditched it since the cameras outside Lottie’s building caught him in the act.

We don’t know his identity yet, but Boomer is working on it.

The staff are busy tonight. Not many have time to stop inside the shack.

We kept the severed arm a secret from most of them, so only club members knew about the body part given to us as a gift.

I do a quick walk of the building to be sure nothing is tampered with and check in with the prospect I posted at the door.

“How’s it been tonight?”

“Good, Pres. High traffic, but no one stays long. It’s a busy night.”

Just like I thought.

“Stay sharp.”

“I will, Pres.”

The kid is eager, and he reminds me of Chris.

I’ve got to get back to the festival. Phantom and Mountain both check in with me, and I’m starting to wonder if the killer is a no-show tonight. It’s getting late. The crowds are showing the first signs that they’re beginning to dwindle.

And that’s when I hear a scream. There are different types of screams. Most of the time, they’re from fears that are intended to make them scared, so it doesn’t carry true terror. But this one is horror and pure terror.

In an instant, I know it’s got to be the psycho clown .

I run in the direction of the scream as I hear more like it. By the time I reach the calling card the killer left behind, there’s no way to contain the crowd that’s seen it.

He’s left us another gift. A blatant fuck you .

A severed foot and hand are poised so that the hand is flipping us off.

Blood is splattered around the body parts, and there’s a rope of intestine looping around the foot.

It’s enough to turn your stomach. A few people look green, and I usher folks away from the scene, trying to convince them it’s a display.

I don’t think anyone is buying it.

It takes a second for me to realize this means the killer isn’t here. He’s left a gift, which means he’s long gone. But I don’t buy that he’s finished, or that he got what he wanted. He came here looking for a victim. Lottie wasn’t here.

Fuck. I know where he’s going.

He’s after Lottie . . . and she’s with my daughter.