Page 17 of Trip (Sons of Hell MC #11)

C.C.

“Hang on, kid!” I shouted as I gunned the engine. The tires kicked up so much mud as I spun the wheel sharply, hydroplaning as Cameron’s laughter filled the surrounding air. It was a fight to the finish as the brothers tried to outmaneuver me in the wet open field.

But I had news for these boys.

No one was better at mud dogging than me.

“On your right, C.C.!” Cameron hollered. “Banks is coming up fast!”

Like hell he was.

Turning the wheel of my quad cab, I spun the tires in a wide arc, covering Banks in thick chunks of mud as Cameron shouted, “Take that, Knuckle Dragger!”

Mud splattered across my windshield, obscuring my view for just a moment before I flipped the wipers on. Cameron was gripping the passenger handle, his laughter that of pure exhilaration. Meanwhile, Banks was too busy wiping the mud from his goggles to notice me accelerating toward the next curve.

“C.C., watch out!” Cameron yelled as Gunner’s quad roared past us on the left.

I could hear the roar of another engine closing in from behind.

Glancing in the side mirror, I caught sight of Enigma barreling through the mud, his quad spinning up a storm as he closed the distance with a devilish grin.

“You think you’re quick, but you’re not quick enough!

” he yelled, his voice nearly drowned out by the growl of the engines.

“Hold on, Cameron! I’ve never lost a mud dog race, and I ain’t losin’ today!

” I called out, slamming my foot down on the accelerator.

The quad cab surged forward, the engine growling in protest as it clawed through the slick terrain.

Mud flew everywhere, painting the world in shades of brown and chaos.

Cameron leaned out of the window, his arms flailing like a referee on a racetrack. “Go faster! You got this!” he hollered, his laughter mixing with the thrill of the moment.

Ahead, the field narrowed, a makeshift finish line marked by two battered barrels sitting unevenly in the mud. Enigma was gaining ground, a predator on my tail, but I wasn’t about to back down. The challenge wasn’t just in winning—it was in the pure, unfiltered adrenaline coursing through my veins.

As we hit the last stretch, I jerked the wheel sharply, the quad cab spinning in a calculated half-circle. Enigma’s front wheels clipped the edge of a shallow trench, slowing him down just enough for me to speed past the barrels with Cameron whooping in victory.

Enigma skidded to a halt, shaking his head as he pulled off his goggles, his face streaked with mud. “You got lucky, C.C.,” he called out, grinning despite his loss. “Next time, it’ll be me spraying you with mud.”

Laughing, I shook my head. “You know, Eugene, if you ever want the chance to beat me, you best have Sugar do the driving. My cuz knows her way around a mud bog.”

Flinging mud from his chest, he grumbled, walking off. “Figures. Woman knows everything.”

Gunner rode up and parked his cab next to mine, grinning. “Damn, that was fun.”

“Where is Banks?”

Gunner smiled, turned, and chuckled. “Getting his ass beat by the mud.”

Sure enough, when I turned around I damn near lost it because Banks was knee-deep in mud and every time he tried to move, he lost his footing and fell into the thick sludge. The man looked like a walking mud Boggie. Not one part of him was visible.

“Will someone help me!” the man shouted as his brothers all doubled over laughing.

“Not a chance in hell, Banks!” Scribe shouted.

“You got this, Banks.” Priest laughed. “Just one step at a time!”

“I fucking hate you all!” the mud-covered man sneered, falling backwards into the wet sludge.

“I’m hungry.” Cameron unbuckled, turning in his seat to laugh at Banks before adding, “Where’s a good place to eat around these parts?”

“Well,” I said, looking at the kid. “We can head into the city. I know this little deli that makes the best damn sandwiches this side of the Mississippi.”

The kid looked at me and challenged, “They better knock my socks off. I’ve got a manly appetite.”

Grinning, I simply said, “Well then, kid. Let me introduce you to a New Orleans muffuletta.”

After helping Banks out of the mud, we all loaded up and headed to my auntie Marabella’s house, where the Sons of Hell were staying while in New Orleans.

As the brothers all headed for the showers, I snuck into my auntie’s room and quickly cleaned up and changed my clothes.

Walking out of the bathroom, I saw my Auntie Marabella sitting on her bed, waiting for me.

“You look happy, Cosette.”

“I’m always happy, Auntie.” I grinned.

“No, sweetheart.” Auntie Marabella shook her head. “I mean, happiness is radiating off you. Haven’t seen you smile like this in a long time.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m always happy.”

“I ain’t your momma, girlie. You can’t lie to me. I’ve known you since you came into this world, and I watched the light inside you fade when your daddy died. For years, you hid yourself behind any vehicle you could to escape the truth. But something’s changed.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whispered, turning away from her. She always saw too much where I was concerned.

“It’s that handsome young man, isn’t it?” she softly asked. “The one who’s here to help you. The brother in the Sons of Hell.”

“Trip.”

Auntie Marabella sighed. “Has he claimed you yet?”

“What?” Spinning around, I asked, “How do you know about that?”

“I know a lot about everything, Cosette. Your uncle Skeeter didn’t just run the scrap yard.” She shook her head and sighed. “I knew Glorianna didn’t tell you. What was she thinking? Her own son is a club brother. She should have prepared you.”

Confused, I walked over to my aunt and asked, “Prepared me for what?”

Auntie Marabella’s gaze softened, the weight of unspoken truths flickering in her eyes.

“Prepared you for the Sons, girlie,” she murmured, her voice low but steady.

“You think this life is just about brotherhood and bikes? That boy, Trip... he ain’t just here to help.

He’s protecting you. Claiming you ain’t just sweet words and stolen kisses—it binds you to their world, to their code. ”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as her words sank in. “Auntie, I don’t—”

“You don’t know what it means yet,” she interrupted gently, “but you will. And when the time comes, you’ll have a choice to make. The Sons of Hell don’t half-love, Cosette. They take care of their own, fiercely, but there’s no halfway in their world. You gotta be all in or not at all.”

Her words sent a shiver up my spine, and I couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else entirely. Trip’s face flashed through my mind—his smirk, the way his eyes lingered on mine, as though he saw something even I couldn’t see.

“What does Trip know about this?” I asked, voice shaking despite myself.

Auntie Marabella gave me a knowing look. “You think he’s just a man passing through? That boy’s been sent here for a reason, Cosette. Maybe it started as a charge, but it’s more than that now. If you don’t believe me, look into his eyes next time. You’ll see it too.”

My auntie’s words followed me for the rest of the day.

I couldn’t get them out of my head. Coupled with what King said at the track and Trip’s words last night when he mentioned claiming me, I was more confused than ever.

I had heard Amber occasionally say the word regarding a brother in the Silver Shadows, but she never elaborated.

I knew what the definition of the word meant, but my gut was screaming at me that there was some deeper meaning for a brother in a motorcycle club.

“Dang, that was good,” Cameron said, leaning back in his chair as he rubbed his stomach. “Gotta get Ms. Beth to add this to the menu.”

Absently, I asked, “Ms. Beth?”

“Oh, that’s Sarah’s momma. She owns the best coffee shop in Rosewood. Makes the best chocolate chip muffins around.”

“She’s married to the town sheriff, right?”

“Yep.” Cameron nodded, wiping his face with a napkin as he looked intently at me. “You okay over there, C.C.?”

“Just thinking.”

“About my boy?”

I smirked. “What if I am?”

“Then it’s time we talked.”

Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms over my chest and asked, “About what?”

“About the claiming.”

“And what do you know about that? You’re just a kid,” I challenged.

Cameron narrowed his eyes and clearly said, “I may be a kid, but I know if you ain’t careful, you are gonna lose the best thing that has ever happened to you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Taking a deep breath, the kid leaned forward and sighed as Priest and Banks joined us at the table. The rest of the brothers just scooted their chairs closer.

“She ain’t gettin’ it, Priest.”

“That’s because you are talking to her like a Betty, kid,” Banks said. “C.C. is more brother than Betty.”

Intrigued, I nodded. “You guys wanna let me in on what the kid is talking about?”

“Trip ain’t like the rest of us,” Priest began. “He’s different. Has options, but stayed away because of his past.”

“He’s been hiding, licking his wounds,” Scribe added.

“But deep down, we all know he wanted back in the game,” Banks said. “Was even making moves to return.”

“You’re talking about racing.”

Enigma nodded. “Yeah, but the accident stopped him.”

“I know. It was all over the news.”

Gunner shook his head. “Not that accident, C.C.”

“I don’t understand.”

Sighing, Banks spoke up, “We were on our way home from delivering Hell’s Breath up and down the east coast when we happened upon a big accident on the interstate.

Someone cut Trip off trying to avoid the accident, and Trip flew over the car.

He wasn’t wearing a helmet. By the time Hawk and I got to him, we knew it was bad.

Trip was life-flighted straight to Rosewood Memorial Hospital.

None of us expected him to live. He died several times before the docs could stabilize him. ”

“He was in a coma for close to ten months before he woke up,” Scribe stated, then sighed.

“He cheated death, C.C., and it’s given him a new lease on life.

Only he’s being cautious. Which isn’t like Trip.

He’s a lot like you. Stubborn, fearless, lives for the adrenaline rush.

Instead, he’s being careful and not taking any chances. ”

“What do you want me to do about that?”

Scribe leaned forward, his voice low, charged with a mixture of frustration and hope. “We need you to remind him who he is, C.C. Show him that the fire hasn’t gone out, that he’s still the same Trip who lived for the rush, who thrived in chaos.”

“You want me to claim him!”

Cameron grinned. “Now she’s gettin’ it!”