Page 8
Rebel
I leaned against the wall of the Church, which we’d turned into more of a war room, watching Charming pace the length of the space. The air hung heavy with cigarette smoke and tension, the kind you could cut with a knife. Maps spread out across the table showed our territory -- the roads we claimed, the places we protected.
“She’s safe for now,” Ashes said, his voice cutting through my thoughts. He stood at the head of the table, fingers splayed across the map like he was reading Braille. “We’ve got her covered here at the compound.”
I nodded, but something in my gut twisted. Safety was always temporary in our world. How many times had this place been hit? We’d lost people from behind gates that should have been impenetrable. No matter how much we increased our security, it never seemed to be enough. At the same time, I couldn’t lock her down in the house or the clubhouse. She needed the freedom to at least walk through the compound or go on a ride.
The door burst open, slamming against the wall hard enough to rattle the framed patches hanging there. Shade rushed in, his laptop balanced on one arm, his eyes wild behind his glasses.
“We’re in deep shit,” he announced, not bothering with greetings. His fingers flew across the keyboard the second he set it down, turning the screen to show us digital maps and security camera feeds. “Rio’s attackers are pooling with the Moretti family for reinforcements. They’ve got at least fifteen men joining them from the east side of town.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, pushing off the wall. The room went silent.
I exchanged a look with Charming, his eyes narrowed, jaw set in that way that meant blood would spill before the night was over. He didn’t need to speak. He’d always known when to listen first.
Ashes stepped forward, his weathered face grave. “Let’s reach out to our Bratva contacts now. I don’t think we need to sit and wait this time. Charming, your connection through your father might --”
“Waste of time,” Rio interrupted, her voice cutting through the room. It was highly unusual for one of our women to be allowed in here, but with her background, Charming had made an exception.
She’d been in the corner, half-hidden by Renegade’s broad frame. She stood with her arms crossed, her eyes hard as ice, but I caught the way her fingers dug into her own skin. She was scared, but damned if she’d let anyone see it.
“Those fuckers have a way to track me,” she continued. “While I have no idea how they’re pulling that off, what I do know is how they work. At least the military men. We can outmaneuver them.”
“They drugged and raped you,” I said bluntly. No point sugarcoating it. “And now they want to silence you.”
Rio’s chin lifted. “All the more reason to deal with this ourselves. The Bratva will want something in return, right?”
“They always do,” Charming agreed, running a hand through his gray-streaked hair.
I began to pace, my boots heavy on the floor. Everyone watched me -- they knew my history before the club, the skills I’d brought with me. Despite the easygoing guy I appeared to be, I could handle myself.
“They’ll expect us to fortify here,” I said. “But that gives them time to surround us, cut off escape routes.”
Renegade folded his arms, nodding slowly. “So we don’t sit and wait.”
“Exactly.” I tapped the map sharply. “We split into three teams. First team creates a diversion at the north entrance. Second team circles around and cuts off their route back to the highway. Third team --” I looked directly at Rio, “-- extracts you to a secure location they don’t know about.”
“I’m not running,” Rio said, stepping forward. The overhead light caught the strawberry tones in her hair, making it look like fire. “Those bastards already took enough from me. And if they’re tracking me, won’t they just find me anyway?”
Shade cleared his throat. “Not if I make sure you don’t have bugs hidden in any of your shit. Clothes, shoes, vehicle. They could hide a transmitter anywhere really.”
It made me wonder why he hadn’t checked for that shit before now. For that matter, I should have asked him to the moment he said those fuckers had found her.
“Get your stuff to me, including your vehicle. I’ll sweep everything. See what I can find,” Shade said.
“Nobody’s saying run away forever,” I countered. “We’re talking tactical retreat. Live to fight smarter.”
Shade looked up from his laptop. “The Moretti family doesn’t usually get involved in personal vendettas. These guys must have something the family wants.”
“Or they’re offering something in return,” Ashes added, gaze thoughtful.
I tapped my fingers against my thigh, thinking. “Those two men from Rio’s unit -- they’ve got connections we don’t know about. Military. Maybe even higher-level government. The fact they’ve remained free after all the shit they’ve done says plenty.”
“They aren’t just random soldiers,” Rio said, her Georgia drawl thickening with emotion. “Denton -- his uncle runs some kind of security firm that contracts with three-letter agencies. But it never occurred to me he’d use that as a way to escape his fate. I should have. Rat bastard doesn’t exactly play fair.”
“Which means they’ve got resources.” I resumed pacing, my mind racing through scenarios like flipping pages in a book. “Surveillance. Tracking. Maybe that’s what they’re offering Moretti. Intelligence.”
“Weapons,” Rio muttered. “What if they’re leaking military secrets?”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Shipments.” Her lips thinned. “What if he knows when and where weapons are being moved? If he sold that, or traded it to the Morettis…”
Charming’s eyes met mine, and I saw the same realization dawn. That had to be it. And who knew what the hell kind of artillery we were talking about.
“Fucking hell.” Renegade pinched the bridge of his nose. “If they know about that --”
“Then what else have those assholes shared,” I finished.
Rio’s face flushed red. “So I brought a shitstorm down on all of you by staying.”
“No,” I said firmly. “They did. And they’re about to learn why that was their last mistake.”
I turned back to the map, my finger tracing roads and back alleys I knew blindfolded. “Shade, what’s their current position?”
He typed rapidly, flipping through camera feeds. “Three vehicles approaching from the east. SUVs, tinted windows. Standard wannabe tough-guy bullshit.”
“ETA?”
“Twenty minutes, tops. According to incoming messages on their phones, looks like they’re planning to come here.”
I locked eyes with Charming. “We need to move now. If we let them dictate the battlefield, we’re already losing.”
He nodded once, authority radiating from him like heat from a furnace. “She’s your girl. What’s the play, Rebel?”
I shook my head and pointed to Rio. “Let her take the lead. She needs this.”
* * *
Rio
Everyone turned to me. Some clubs might balk at a woman calling the shots, but the Devil’s Boneyard seemed to be different. Or at least, Rebel was. I’d been watching them since day one. Not just here at the clubhouse, but anytime I walked through the compound. Watching and listening. I’d picked up more about them than they probably realized.
“Azrael takes point on the diversion team,” I said. “Rebel said he knows how to create chaos without leaving evidence. Renegade, you lead the blocking team here.” I pointed to an intersection half a mile from the clubhouse. “Box them in, make it look like a traffic accident if civilians are around.”
“And the extraction?” Ashes asked.
“Rebel,” I said simply. “With Stripes as backup. I should be with the diversion team. I want those fuckers to see me.”
“That’s exactly what they want,” Rebel countered. “You’re the bait, remember? They see you, they call in whatever backup they’ve got waiting, and suddenly we’re outgunned and outmanned.”
“I’m some princess who needs rescuing?” I snapped. “Bait? Like I need to wait for you to swoop in and save me? Forget that shit.”
“No, you’re a strategic asset who needs protecting,” he shot back. “And I don’t mean just your body. Your testimony can put those rapist pieces of shit away. That’s justice. That’s power.”
I held his gaze for a long moment before giving a curt nod.
Charming moved to the gun cabinet in the corner, unlocking it with practiced efficiency. “Everyone gear up. Standard armament plus comms.”
“I’ve got something better than standard,” Shade said, pulling a small black case from his backpack. He flipped it open to reveal earpieces smaller than the ones you typically saw. “These run on an encrypted frequency I set up last month. No chance of interception.”
I took one, fitting it into my ear. “These are awesome.”
Ashes distributed burner phones next. “One call, then destroy it. Emergency protocol if comms go down.”
The room transformed as everyone moved with purpose. Weapons checked and loaded. Extra magazines distributed. Vests for those who wanted them. Through it all, I felt Rebel watching me. I took a Glock from Ashes, doing a quick check. I glanced over at Rebel and arched an eyebrow.
“I was military, remember? I can handle myself.”
“Never doubted it,” he replied. “But handling yourself and walking into whatever this is…”
“I’ll say it again. Former military. Were you so worried you wanted to babysit me?”
He checked his weapons before answering. “No. It’s because I’m the best shot in the club, and if those men get within fifty yards of you, I want to be the one putting bullets in their heads.”
I could understand where he was coming from and gave him a quick nod.
Charming called for attention with a sharp whistle. “Listen up. This isn’t just about protecting Rio, though that would be reason enough. These men aligned with Moretti are testing us, seeing if we’re soft. We show them today that the Devil’s Boneyard MC protects their own, and we do it with extreme prejudice.”
Murmurs of agreement filled the room. Rebel glanced at his watch.
“Fifteen minutes until they reach our perimeter,” he announced. “Everyone know their positions and routes?”
Nods all around. Charming made eye contact with each person in turn, a leader making sure his people were solid.
“Rebel,” he said finally, “you’re sure about this plan?”
“As sure as I can be without time for recon,” he answered honestly. “I trust Rio. If something changes, we adapt.”
“Good enough for me.” He straightened, looking every inch the club President. “Let’s move.”
The energy changed instantly. Plans were one thing; action was another. We filed out of the back room, and I fell into step beside Rebel.
“For what it’s worth,” I said quietly, just for his ears, “thanks for not treating me like I’m broken.”
He glanced at me. “Being hurt and being broken aren’t the same thing. Take it from someone who knows.”
I didn’t ask for details. Now wasn’t the time for that sort of discussion. We needed to focus or we’d end up dead.
As we reached the door leading to the compound’s yard, I caught Ashes looking our way.
“Watch her six,” he said simply to Rebel.
He nodded. “With my life.”
And I could tell he meant it.
* * *
Rebel
I stepped into the compound’s open yard, the night air hitting my skin like a cold slap after the stuffy back room. Men were already moving with purpose, leather cuts and heavy boots, weapons prepped and ready. It was a beautiful, terrifying sight.
Rio stayed close to my right side, her steps matching mine. Her face had settled into something hard and focused -- the face of a soldier, not a victim. Good. We’d need that.
Across the yard, Azrael was already directing traffic, his features intense. He moved with the deadly grace of a man comfortable with violence, comfortable with death. They called him the angel of death for a reason.
“Gear up, we move in five!” I barked, watching small groups split off to secure the compound’s exits. The pounding of heavy boots on concrete echoed off the surrounding buildings. I saw a few of our brothers gathering near the gate, not to leave with us, but to remain behind and protect the women and kids. Down the road a ways, I saw Jordan step out onto their porch, holding a shotgun.
“Perimeter team,” Stripes called, his thick accent carrying across the yard. “You take the east approach first. No direct engagement unless you’re compromised.”
The designated men nodded, checking their weapons one last time before mounting their bikes. Engines roared to life, a familiar rumble that settled something in my chest. This was what we did -- we rode, we fought, we protected our own.
I led Rio toward a black SUV parked near the garage. “This is our transport. Tinted windows, reinforced panels. After the club’s last fiasco, Charming had it ready for situations like this.”
She ran her hand along the hood, assessing. “Bulletproof?”
“The doors and windows are. Not the whole thing.”
“Better than nothing.” She glanced back at the clubhouse. “You really think they’ll come here? They aren’t just faking us out to see what we do? Seems stupid to attack a compound full of armed bikers.”
“Men like that -- men who drug and rape women -- they don’t think like normal people,” I said, checking the vehicle’s supplies. Extra ammo, water, first aid kit. “They think they’re untouchable. The Moretti connection makes them dangerous, but it also makes them cocky.”
Rio studied my face. “You’ve dealt with men like this before.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes.”
“Is that why you’re so determined to be the one to extract me? Some personal vendetta?”
I closed the SUV’s trunk with more force than necessary. “My reasons are my business.”
“Not if they affect the plan,” she countered. “Not if they put others at risk.”
She had a point. I leaned against the vehicle, keeping my voice low. “A friend was attacked years ago, back when I was too young to know what the fuck to do. Men with connections, men who thought their money and their names would protect them. The cops did nothing. The courts did nothing.”
“But you did something,” she guessed.
I met her eyes. “Two months after the attack, one of them disappeared while boating. The other had a fatal accident with his motorcycle on a mountain road. Very tragic. I was twenty-two at the time. Before I came to the Devil’s Boneyard.”
Rio held my gaze, something shifting in her expression. Not judgment -- understanding.
“So this isn’t just about protecting club interests.”
“It’s about justice,” I said simply. “Sometimes the system works. Sometimes we need to be the system.”
Before she could respond, Charming approached.
“Shade’s got movement on the cameras,” he said without preamble. “They’ve split up. Two vehicles heading for the front, one circling around back.”
“They’re trying to box us in,” I muttered. “Expecting us to hunker down here.”
“Which is why your girl’s plan is already working.” Charming nodded. “Azrael’s team is in position for the diversion. Renegade’s setting up the roadblock now.”
I scanned the compound. The club had transformed from a group of hard-drinking bikers to a mercenary unit in minutes. This was why the Devil’s Boneyard survived when other clubs folded. Discipline when it mattered.
Across the yard, Jackal was coaching a pair of younger members, showing them how to position themselves behind the concrete barriers at the entrance. His hands moved in sharp, precise gestures, demonstrating sight lines and cover positions. The men listened intently, nodding at his instructions.
“Remember,” Azrael’s voice carried to us through the comms. “Wait for my signal. Not before. We need them fully committed to the approach.”
I checked my watch. “How long until they hit the perimeter?”
“Ten minutes, maybe less,” Charming replied. “Shade’s tracking their cell phones.”
Stripes called me over with a sharp whistle. I joined him at the tactical map he’d brought outside, noting the new marks he’d added.
“They have set up here,” he said, pointing to a spot a half-mile east. “Spotter with a rifle, most likely. You can’t take the main road out.” His finger traced an alternative route. “This service road connects to the highway five miles south. Not maintained, but passable. No streetlights, no cameras.”
I studied the route. “That adds twenty minutes to our escape.”
Stripes nodded. “ Da . But adds zero bullets in your head. Fair trade, yes?”
Hard to argue with that logic. “We’ll take it. Have you coordinated with the safe house?”
“ Da . They expect you by midnight.” He tapped another location on the map. “If your route is compromised, this is the backup location. Old hunting cabin owned by the Bratva. Stocked last month.”
I committed both locations to memory, then glanced at Rio, who had joined us silently.
“Memorize these,” I told her, pointing to the locations. “If we get separated --”
“We won’t,” she interrupted.
“If we get separated,” I repeated firmly, “you need to know where to go. I’ve seen how these things play out. Have a plan A, B, and C.”
Rio studied the map, her blue eyes scanning every detail. “Got it.”
Stripes gave a curt nod, seemingly satisfied with her response. He folded the map, tucking it into an inside pocket of his cut. “Time to move. They will be here soon.”
As if on cue, Ashes approached, distributing final equipment. “Comms check,” he ordered, tapping his earpiece.
I adjusted mine, hearing the soft static as the channel opened. “Rebel, check.”
One by one, each team leader confirmed their comms worked. The soft chatter in my ear was oddly comforting -- connection in the chaos.
“Two minutes to first contact,” Shade’s voice came through the earpiece. “First vehicle approaching the eastern checkpoint.”
I turned to Rio. “Let’s move.”
She nodded, following me to the SUV. I opened the passenger door for her, scanning the compound one last time. Everyone was in position now.
Azrael caught my gaze from his location, giving me a single nod. We’d never been close -- he kept to himself mostly -- but there was a mutual respect between us. He understood what drove me tonight.
“Take care of your girl,” he said through the comms.
“Count on it,” I replied, sliding into the driver’s seat.
I started the engine, its purr oddly subdued compared to the motorcycles I was used to. Rio buckled in beside me, her hands empty now -- the gun would be in her waistband or a holster, ready for access.
“You good?” I asked, pulling out of the parking space.
“No,” she answered honestly. “But I’m ready.”
I respected her candor. “That’ll do.”
As we approached the back exit, Stripes waved us down, approaching my window. I lowered it, waiting.
“You take first right after the bridge,” he instructed. “The road looks blocked, but it’s just brush. Push through.”
“Understood,” I said.
Through my earpiece, I heard Shade’s urgent voice. “Contact! First vehicle stopped at checkpoint. Four men visible, armed.”
“Showtime,” I muttered, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline flooding my system.
“Still time to turn back,” Rio said, though her tone made it clear she didn’t expect me to. “You could let me handle this alone. Less risk to the club.”
I shifted the SUV into drive, easing toward the exit. “Two years before I joined the Devil’s Boneyard, I was in a similar situation. Someone was gunning for me. A random stranger stood up for me when they didn’t have to. I’m just paying it forward.”
Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t press for details. Instead, she checked her weapon one more time, the motion fluid and practiced.
“Then let’s make sure we’re both alive tomorrow to talk about it,” she said.
I nodded, pressing the accelerator as the back gate opened. The night swallowed us, the compound’s lights fading in the rearview mirror. Ahead, the road stretched dark and empty, but I knew better than to trust the apparent calm.
Behind us, I heard the first pop of gunfire, followed by shouts. The diversion had begun.
I pressed harder on the gas. “Hold on. This is where it gets interesting.”
Rio braced herself against the dashboard. For a moment, she looked young -- too young for the hell she’d been through. Then her expression hardened again, and I saw the fighter beneath the trauma.
“Just drive,” she said. “I’ve got your six.”
And just like that, we were committed, racing through the night with nothing but determination, weapons, and the distant backup of a motorcycle club who’d decided this was a battle worth fighting.
Sometimes, that was all you needed.