Page 20

W e did our duty to the club. Made an appearance. Clapped some backs. Assured our brothers we were here for good. Listened to our girl talk about that sniveling asshole’s limp dick way more than I personally think was necessary.

Yeah, I’m glad we’re almost fucking done for the day and can finally head home. Maybe we can give Remy a reminder of what a real dick should look, feel, and taste like.

After our short drop in at the clubhouse, we loaded up and drove to the house that’s been unattended since we fucked up and practically gave Colt a key. Not literally, of course. Apparently, we still have at least some brains left. Right now, this place offers the most privacy, which is helpful while we get Etta and her men—including the two new ones—up to speed. Jay has been a surprising asset that comes with a long list of contacts we now have at our disposal. Big Mack is the one former Reaper we have total trust in, and to be honest, I’m thankful he’s finally checking out Etta’s ass and not Remy’s. I kinda like the guy and would hate to have to throat punch him for continuing to eye fuck our girl.

Squire is just finishing up a scan for any unknown devices when a knock echoes through the room. All of us share confused looks. All except Remy and Etta, that is. Considering just about everyone who is anyone we care about can already be found in this room right now, I’m at a fucking loss.

“Now, whoever could that be?” Remy touts in a lilting voice.

Etta walks over to the door, snickering. When she opens it, Aunt Charlie is standing there, an innocent expression plastered on her face, but it’s the man beside her that has the rest of us on alert.

“What the fuck is this, Charlize?”

“C’mon, Storm. I never knew you to be such a pussy,” Remy’s aunt quips as she walks into the house.

He regards all of us warily but follows his sister into the living room.

“Uncle Storm, how kind of you to join us for this little reunion.”

“Remington.” He glances at his other niece, his eyes narrowing. “Beretta. It’s about damn time you two agree to see me. With your father gone, I’m the patriarch of this family, and I?—”

“Oh, cut the shit, Richard. You are no more the head of this family than I am the Queen of England.”

He scowls at his sister. “You’ve been out of club business for decades, Charlize. It should really fucking stay that way.”

She straightens her shoulders, crossing her arms over her chest as she glares at him. “You know what? I would’ve happily stayed in my own little peaceful corner of Deadwood Peak and had nothing to do with the club, or you , ever again.”

“Then why the hell are we here right now?”

She takes a step closer to him, and I don’t have to be a genius to see that she’s got some shit up her sleeve. I recognize that look. I see it on her niece's face often enough.

“Because… You. Killed. My. Brother.”

Her swing comes out of nowhere, her knuckles connecting with his nose in a punch so damn perfect, a professional boxer would be proud. Blood pours from Storm’s nose, and I shoot a look at my girl. There’s a split second where I think we might be okay, but then the color drains from her face. Trip snatches the garbage can and lifts it up just in time for her to toss her cookies.

Poor fucking angel.

Storm attempts to staunch the flow of blood with the sleeve of his flannel. “What in the hell was that for, woman? What are you yapping about? We caught the man that killed Rock!”

“You’re right, Uncle. We did.” Remy’s face is pale, but she closes the distance between her and Storm. “But then we got some information from a semi-reliable source and did some digging. Turns out, the funds sent to the Desert Dawgs for the hit on Etta came from your account.”

“Your source is full of shit, Niece. I ain’t got nuthin’ to do with that.”

“So you’re telling me you just happened to be at the clubhouse that night to celebrate Etta’s marriage despite not giving a damn about my sister or me our entire lives?”

His eyes dart around the room, his forearm swiping across his nose. “Of course I care about you. You’re my blood.”

“Apparently, blood doesn’t mean shit if it’s got tits rather than a dick. You don’t respect women in general, but especially not a woman who might get to lead the club you’ve set your sights on taking over.”

He takes an aggressive step forward, but I’m on him before he can even fucking blink. “I don’t think so, old man.”

He tries to throw me off, but the fucker’s out of shape and no match for my strength. “Get your goddamn hands off me.”

“I’m curious about one thing, Uncle. Did you know that Colt was your nephew?”

Storm goes still, his eyes comically wide. “The fuck you mean, Colt’s my nephew? Rock never had no son.”

Remy smirks. “Oh, but he did, and that son used you for his own agenda. You were never going to get the club, Uncle. You got played.”

Storm sputters, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to process the unfortunate news.

Etta carefully examines her nails like this is just your average family chat. “Pitiful, really, believing you could ever take over the Reapers. Daddy would roll over in his grave.”

“Shut your mouth, you little bitch.” Spittle has gathered in the corners of his lips. “Neither of you ever deserved to be the head of the Reapers. Hell, Rock didn’t even deserve it, but Father deemed him the more capable son. I almost had it all in my grasp until that stupid loophole in the agreement to merge the two fucking clubs.”

Charlie shakes her head, her eyes going glassy. “You fucking disgust me.” She looks at Remy. “Do whatever you have to do. From this moment forward, both of my brothers are dead to me.”

She turns and heads out the door without a backward glance. She may be a Steele, with the backbone that reminds me so much of her nieces, but she still swore an oath to protect life. I don’t blame her for walking away and letting us handle this for her.

“I’ve gotta say, Uncle, this is not a good turn of events for you.”

Storm scoffs. “What the hell does that mean?”

Remy laughs. “Guess I need to fill you in on one more little surprise, Uncle.” She takes another step closer, and I grip Storm’s arms tighter. She leans in, carefully avoiding his bloodstained face. “You’ve pissed off the Avenging Angel, and now, it’s your turn to pay for your mistakes.”

Storm tries to break free from my hold, but Remy’s faster. She lifts a needle, jamming it into the side of Storm’s neck.

“Might want to get one of the other guys to help you, Saint. Uncle Storm is about to lose the ability to stand on his own.”

Just as the words leave her lips, Storm’s body starts to sag in my hold.

“Son of a bitch!”

Luckily, Rogue is close by. He grabs his other arm just in time.

“What the hell are we supposed to do with him now?” I mutter.

“Let’s give our good ol’ uncle a tour of the grounds, shall we? Maybe show him the backyard?”

Etta claps her hands. “Oh, sister. You are a fucking menace , and I am absolutely here for it.”

“What’s in the backyard?” Trip asks.

“Just wait…” Remy quips, following behind us as we drag the fat bastard out the back door and onto the patio.

That’s when I see it.

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Ace runs his hands down his face in frustration…or maybe it’s disbelief.

Kind of hard to tell, honestly. But he’s only saying what the rest of us are fucking thinking.

A motherfucking wood chipper? Holy hell.

The bright yellow heavy duty industrial machinery is poised just off the patio, awaiting its victim.

“Rem, really?”

“C’mon, Grant.” Etta rolls her eyes. “When have you ever known my sister to make an unwise choice? Unless, of course, you count getting caught by Razor. Or walking into Viper’s lair without backup. Or?—”

“That’s enough of that,” Remy growls. “Yes, Grant. I’m sure. I even came prepared.”

She pulls nose plugs out of her pocket and waves them through the air.

“Not gonna be enough,” Rogue mutters.

“I’ve gotta agree with the big guy over here. If you’re planning to do what I think you are, nose plugs aren’t going to save you, angel.”

“Don’t worry. My plan has multiple parts. You’ll see.”

Set up next to the monstrous equipment is a set of heavy chains connected to the thick trunk of an adjacent tree with some sort of electric pulley system attached. There is literally nothing about this entire scenario that is sexy in the slightest, yet watching my girl’s excitement for what’s to come has me rock fucking hard in my jeans.

“I’ve seen some really fucked up shit, but this?” Jay stares on in wonder as Remy and Etta direct Rogue and me on how to position the fat bastard. “This may just top it all.” He glances at Rogue. “Is it weird that I’m a little turned on right now?”

Rogue snorts.

Trip chuckles.

Ace sighs.

Squire leans back against the table, not looking remotely concerned about what’s about to go down. “Better get used to it, man. The Steele twins are impossible to forget once they get under your skin.”

Rogue and I finish securing Storm by his feet, his arms falling limply toward the ground and dangling in the air as he’s hoisted upside down. He’s positioned just above the grass in front of the conveyor belt that leads into the wood chipper, and we step back and out of the blast zone.

“The paralytic agent I injected you with renders you unable to move or speak, but guess what…” She leans in to the man strung up like a fat pig. “You can still feel every single thing I’m about to do to you.”

Without further hesitation, she cocks back and slams her brass-knuckled fist into Storm’s jaw. Blood sprays from his mouth, barely missing her.

“That’s for making Grant and me think we could be related.”

Etta steps forward, her head tilted as she studies her uncle’s swaying body. As he slowly comes to a stop, she pulls her leg back and kicks him with the full force of her stiletto heel.

“And that’s for being a blight on the Steele name.”

The old man can’t even so much as grunt, but tears are leaking out of his eyes and down his forehead, his blood trickling right along with it.

“But now for the real fun, Uncle.” Remy pulls her favorite knife out of its sheath, trailing it over the old man’s face as she stares into his unblinking eyes. “I only wish Rock was here to see this. I’d love to take my time with you, but we have bigger fish to fry.”

She stabs her knife into his thigh, then promptly yanks it out. Blood slowly but steadily begins to stain his clothes, spurting from his leg, over his round belly, down his chest, and along his arms until it starts to drip from his fingertips and pool on the ground beneath him.

“See, Uncle Storm… Remy here just punctured your femoral artery. You’ve only got a few minutes left to poison this world with your presence. I’d say I’m sorry, but…” She taps her long painted nail to her lips, then shrugs. “I’d be lying. Rot in hell, you lousy bastard.”

Remy stares at the dying man in front of us, her face a stone mask.

“Rogue…” Her cold voice is devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

It’s that same blankness that hits at the heart of my soul. I want to save her and fuck her at the same time.

“Yeah, gorgeous.”

“Lower him.”

She says it like she’s telling him to grab her a cup of coffee rather than lower a man to his death. The others may not notice, but I hide a smirk when I see Rogue adjust his junk in his pants before he steps forward and presses a button. We all watch in fascinated horror as Storm inches closer and closer. Then she holds up her hand, and Rogue stops his descent.

“See, Uncle, this is the brilliance of my plan. While your blood is just about drained from your body, you’re still clinging to life. It’s truly the most excruciating death imaginable—you know what’s coming but are absolutely powerless to stop it. Your body will end up spread across our lawn like ground chuck, but on a positive note, it won’t be a heaping bloody mess. I’m pretty sure there are some wild mountain lions in the area that will appreciate the easy meal. Pureed for them and everything. Hell, maybe I’ll even start a garden. I’ll need to do some research.”

“Jesus Christ,” someone chokes out, but I can’t take my eyes off my girl to see who it was.

Personally, I think she’s fucking spectacular.

As time ticks by, Storm’s bleeding slows to a barely there trickle while we play witness to the terror in his nearly lifeless eyes. I’d almost feel sorry for the poor bastard, but he brought this on himself.

When she nods, Etta turns on the wood chipper, and Rogue makes sure Storm’s body lowers directly onto the conveyor belt.

“Any last words, Uncle?” Remy calls out, then she chuckles, the sound pure evil. “Oh. Right. You can’t speak. Sucks to be you! When you get to hell, let Lucifer know he’ll have to wait a bit longer to see me. I’ve got a couple more assholes to take care of first.”

Storm’s fingertips are inches from the sharp blades of the machine when Etta walks over and holds her sister’s hand. The only sound to be heard is the roar of the wood chipper’s engine as his body is shredded into minuscule pieces.

Remy was right. With most of the blood emptied from his body, the mess is kept to a minimum, so she manages to avoid the bucket Trip grabbed just in case.

Storm’s reign of terror has finally come to an end, and I can’t wait to see what my girl has up her sleeve next.