Page 12

Fury

Confined within the cold, stark walls of a city precinct’s jail cell, I slumped over, my head cradled in my hands, desperately attempting to banish the horrifying vision of her lifeless body in his embrace.

She was gone.

How was I going to tell my girls that the woman who raised them, loved them, protected them, was gone? She was the only mother they knew, and now thanks to fucking Montana and the Satan’s Angels, my girls would never know a mother’s love again.

My silent tears fell onto the concrete floor, each drop a testament to my sorrow as I felt them roll down my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I cried.

My heart was breaking.

Everything that I loved, everything I knew was now gone. I invested my entire life in that club, giving it my heart and soul, but time had sadly reduced it to a mere shadow of its former glory. Now, it was nothing more than a faded memory. Given the circumstances, there was absolutely no chance I could ever go back. Not after what Montana said. He caused this. He was to blame, and because of that, I would spend the rest of my life ensuring he suffered the same fate. Only then would I let go of the fury building deep in my gut.

“Christian Moreno. Your attorney is here,” an officer said, unlocking the cell.

Rising from my seated position, I followed him wordlessly out of the room and into another, only to discover to my utter astonishment, the very man I had believed I would never encounter again.

“Joshua?”

Standing to his full height, Joshua Stone—Montana’s cousin—greeted me. He was the brother that recruited and sponsored me when I applied to the Soulless Sinners. Everything I was, everything I became, was because of this man. And when Montana took over the club, Joshua refused to follow Montana’s leadership, so Montana sent him to another club. Joshua tried to get me to go with him, but Montana made me an offer I couldn’t pass up. So, I stayed, and my mentor left.

Knowing what I knew now, I should have followed him.

“Chris, I want to introduce you to Hemlock. He’s here to get you out of this mess.”

Ignoring the man next to him, I asked, “Why are you here?”

“Because shit just got real, and we’re here to save you.”

Shaking my head, I sat down and muttered, “You need to save my girls. I made my bed.”

“No, brother,” Joshua carefully said. “You are innocent.”

Tears streamed down my face as I looked at him. “She’s dead, Josh. My girls are all I have left. I don’t care about anything anymore. Only them.”

“She’s alive.”

Blinking, I gasped. “What?”

“Linsey is alive and in surgery right now. We have Vicious locked down at a secure location. We’re moving now to acquire his kids, but we can’t get to them. They are being held at the clubhouse. We need to get you out of here so you can get them out of there. Chris, you are the only one who can walk in there and remove those kids.”

Narrowing my eyes, I slowly stood. “What the fuck is going on? What do you mean, Linsey’s alive? I saw that motherfucker slit her throat. I saw her die in Vicious’ arms. I shot fucking Montana!”

The man called Hemlock chuckled, then said in a thick Irish accent, “Yeah, that was bloody fucking brilliant, but do me a favor, and next time aim higher. You missed his heart.”

Glaring at the fucker, I snarled, “And just who the fuck are you?”

Joshua nodded as Hemlock said the one thing that had me sitting back down. “My name is Hemlock Kennedy. I believe you knew of my twin brother, Shamrock. A brother in the Golden Skulls.”

“What the fuck is going on here!” I roared, which caused the officer outside the door to enter.

“Everything good in here, Stone?”

“Yeah, Wolf. Just give us a few more minutes,” Joshua said to the officer, who nodded then grinned at me. “Oh man, the boss is gonna have a field day with him.”

“That’s if numbnuts over here doesn’t ruin everything first.” Hemlock glared. “Are you sure about this one, Stone, ’cause once he knows, he becomes a wild card until we can trust him.”

“Trust Fury with my life.”

“Good enough for me,” the officer named Wolf said, shutting the door again.

Turning back to my former mentor, I sneered, “What the hell is going on?”

“Short story.” Joshua sighed, taking a seat. “My cousin opened up Pandora’s box tonight and all hell is about to break loose because he fucking ignored Popeye’s threat. Look, Chris, I’m just gonna speak plainly here. There is bad blood between the clubs that sealed our fates long before you or I ever existed. Right now, those who know the fucking truth are trying to minimize the damage before the table learns the truth. Everything you know about both clubs is wrong. What you need to know is that Montana didn’t have a fucking choice. Not saying he could have prevented this massive fuckup, but he’s not to blame for Linsey.”

I growled. “He ordered the hit. Motherfucker all but admitted it to me.”

Stone shook his head. “No, he didn’t. You need to redirect your anger towards the real threat. Steele ordered the hit tonight to force Montana’s hand.”

“Why?”

“Because Steele believes that Ghost found Thena Hartley. Steele demanded that Montana stop the Golden Skulls at all costs, or he would divulge the truth between the two clubs to the table, which would cause a war no one wants.”

“What truth?”

Joshua looked at Hemlock, who shrugged.

“It’s your play, brother. Whatever you decide, I will support.”

Taking a deep breath, Joshua sighed and said, “The clubs are connected. The history, affiliations, everything.”

“You’re talking about Gregory Stone starting both clubs.”

“No, brother. I’m talking about the rape of Frances Doherty. The one woman who brought a club to its knees and changed the course of the Golden Skulls before it could ever get started. Look, Chris, there is so much more we need to bring you up to speed on, but first we need you to get your girls and Vicious’ kids out of the clubhouse. Once they are secured, we need you to do something for us.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“We need you to find Carly Mitchell, and fast. She’s in danger.”

“The woman Shame was protecting?”

Joshua and Hemlock both stiffened, sitting up in their chairs.

“You know about that?”

“Didn’t like the way things went down after he died. The club brushed him off like he never existed. Wasn’t right. So Vicious and I did some digging ourselves. We found his apartment. The pictures he had on his walls were enough to start World War III, but my gut’s telling me you already know that. I don’t know everything he was doing, but I found a live security feed to where he has her stashed. What I don’t know is why.”

“Because she is not who everyone thinks. She’s Golden Royalty. We need to secure her before Steele gets his hands on her and kills her or worse, forces her to restart the Society .”

“I fucking knew I should have gone into business with my uncle like my mom wanted,” I muttered, shaking my head. Leaning forward, I sighed. “All right, I’ll find her for you, but on one condition.”

Hemlock laughed. “Brother, you ain’t gettin’ it. You are in no position to be making demands. Either you help us, or we walk away and leave you hanging.”

Josh held up his hand, silencing Hemlock, who never took his eyes off me.

“What do you want, Chris?”

“The brand on my back gone, as if it never existed, and when this shit is over, my girls and I walk away scot-free.”

Taking a deep breath, I walked into the Soulless Sinners’ clubhouse to find the place completely empty. This damn clubhouse was never empty. There was always a brother here.

Reaching for my gun, I took a step forward when I heard, “Take another step and I will fucking kill you.”

Stopping dead in my tracks, I lowered my gun and announced, “This is the Soulless Sinners’ clubhouse. Unless you are a patched or branded brother, you have no right being here, so I suggest you leave before my brothers get back.”

The voice laughed as Tyran Fitzpatrick, the right-hand man for Braesal O’Malley, stepped out of the shadows and took a fucking seat, his gun aimed right at me. “You think I care about this stupid club? It’s only a matter of time before the Golden Skulls take back what truly belongs to them. Your club’s days are numbered.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you shooting your president,” he clearly said. “Didn’t think a half-breed like you had it in him. I’m impressed.”

I didn’t like this guy. There was something about him that set my teeth on edge. I couldn’t place it, but I knew this fucker was dangerous.

“So tell me, half-breed, how long have you known?”

“Known what?”

“That you’re the bastard grandson of Casper O’Malley.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“If you think I’m going to let you just show up and take what’s mine, you’ve got another think coming. I am the O’Malley’s right-hand man, not you. I won’t let some half-breed come in and take what’s mine.”

Jesus fucking Christ. This man was certifiable.

Crazy.

Unhinged.

Taking a deep breath, I stated, “First off, I don’t care who you are, and I sure as hell want nothing that belongs to you. Second, I’m one hundred percent Italian, so I don’t know where you got your information, but I’d get your money back. And finally, if you don’t get your fucking Irish ass out of this club, you won’t like what I do next.”

Getting to his feet, he slid a folder across the table toward me.

“Talk to your vice president. He’s been keeping something from you.”

Saying nothing more, Tyran walked out of the clubhouse.

Walking over to the folder, I flipped it open and stared at the contents, trying to comprehend what I was reading, when my phone buzzed in my jacket. Reaching for it, I answered.

“Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” Mercy shouted.

“Clubhouse.”

“Fucking stay there. We’re close. We’re coming to you,” he ordered before disconnecting the call.

Pulling out a chair, I sat, moving the folder closer to me as I laid my gun on the table and continued to read. A short time later, I heard the sounds of pipes pulling into the compound.