here. Shep, he’s not gonna come around you. I promise he won’t get to you again.” Something about the way Shooter says it makes me believe him. I truly believe he won’t let Shep anywhere near me.
“I’m late for work. I gotta go,” I say, needing my escape.
“Don’t ever hesitate to call me, baby.”
“’Kay,” I manage to whisper before sliding the phone off.
Blowing out my breath, I set about getting inside and to work. This cannot consume me further. I survived. I cannot allow it to hold me back from my life.
“Got it bad this time, brother.”
“Fuck off, Boomer,” I reply, not trying to hide my agitation.
“Took off from work when you knew she was okay, drove straight here, hugged her, and now watchin’ her work.”
“Shut it, Boomer,”
“She’s a hot thing. After what she went through, you’re her hero, man.”
“I’m no one’s hero.”
“I beg to differ,” Boomer states in all seriousness.
Boomer was part of my team. He knows me better than most and takes that liberty to be brutally honest with me. He got out of the Army two years ago, and after spending a year riding the open highway, he came to visit me and stayed. His brown hair is in need of a cut along with the shave he is overdue for. Boomer likes his shaggy look, but don’t think the man isn’t put together in his mind. He is setting down roots here in Catawba and prospecting for the Hellions.
When my phone pings with a text, two words pop up: Sermon Immediately . Something is going down.
Tossing some money on the table for Tessie, I make my way to her.
“Gotta run, baby. See ya tonight. You need me, you call. If I can’t answer, Boomer will.”
She nods her head and I take off. Unfortunately, I can’t answer my phone in sermon. I will leave my phone with Boomer, should Tessie need someone. Since she started her shift, she seems to be busy; therefore unable to dwell on what is going on around her. I doubt she will call, but I would rather be safe than sorry.
A thought hits me. Could the bike she heard have been Shep? Did they find him? Is that what a sermon has been called for?
Wasting no more time, I break more than one or two traffic laws as I make my way to meet with my club. Within forty-five minutes of the message, we are all assembled.
Tripp calls the meeting to order, his face not hiding the contained rage he is battling within.
“Gonna keep this short and simple. Got a message,” Tripp barks out at us.
After a swipe and a few clicks on his phone, a video plays. Slice, one of our drivers, is tied to a chair, his arms restrained with zip ties to the arms of the chair.
“Your club is now our enemy. Not by our hand, but by your own. We all face choices. Tripp, your brother has been delivered unto us. We captured him during your raid of our recent shipment. You may have gotten our goods, but we got your brother. The sins of one should not fall upon the shoulders of the innocent. Shep will not be handed over, no matter what my brother Thorn’s orders are to the crew.” Preacher’s sick laugh fills our now silent room as we watch the video, helpless to do anything for Slice.
“Joshua 21:44 . And the Lord gave them rest on every side, according to all that he had sworn to their fathers, and no one of all their enemies stood before them; the Lord gave all their enemies into their hand. The Lord delivered you unto our hand, Hellion. We have been given rest. And now the Lord hath delivered our enemies to our hand,” Preacher recites the scripture in his sick, twisted version.
Then he pulls a knife out of his waistband. Taunting Slice, he cuts across his forearms. Four cuts on each arm for the eight shipments we have taken from their club. Slice fights against the unrelenting restraints as his arms bleed out, grunting in pain.
“By these hands, you stole from my family. By these hands, you pay,”
“I’m late for work. I gotta go,” I say, needing my escape.
“Don’t ever hesitate to call me, baby.”
“’Kay,” I manage to whisper before sliding the phone off.
Blowing out my breath, I set about getting inside and to work. This cannot consume me further. I survived. I cannot allow it to hold me back from my life.
“Got it bad this time, brother.”
“Fuck off, Boomer,” I reply, not trying to hide my agitation.
“Took off from work when you knew she was okay, drove straight here, hugged her, and now watchin’ her work.”
“Shut it, Boomer,”
“She’s a hot thing. After what she went through, you’re her hero, man.”
“I’m no one’s hero.”
“I beg to differ,” Boomer states in all seriousness.
Boomer was part of my team. He knows me better than most and takes that liberty to be brutally honest with me. He got out of the Army two years ago, and after spending a year riding the open highway, he came to visit me and stayed. His brown hair is in need of a cut along with the shave he is overdue for. Boomer likes his shaggy look, but don’t think the man isn’t put together in his mind. He is setting down roots here in Catawba and prospecting for the Hellions.
When my phone pings with a text, two words pop up: Sermon Immediately . Something is going down.
Tossing some money on the table for Tessie, I make my way to her.
“Gotta run, baby. See ya tonight. You need me, you call. If I can’t answer, Boomer will.”
She nods her head and I take off. Unfortunately, I can’t answer my phone in sermon. I will leave my phone with Boomer, should Tessie need someone. Since she started her shift, she seems to be busy; therefore unable to dwell on what is going on around her. I doubt she will call, but I would rather be safe than sorry.
A thought hits me. Could the bike she heard have been Shep? Did they find him? Is that what a sermon has been called for?
Wasting no more time, I break more than one or two traffic laws as I make my way to meet with my club. Within forty-five minutes of the message, we are all assembled.
Tripp calls the meeting to order, his face not hiding the contained rage he is battling within.
“Gonna keep this short and simple. Got a message,” Tripp barks out at us.
After a swipe and a few clicks on his phone, a video plays. Slice, one of our drivers, is tied to a chair, his arms restrained with zip ties to the arms of the chair.
“Your club is now our enemy. Not by our hand, but by your own. We all face choices. Tripp, your brother has been delivered unto us. We captured him during your raid of our recent shipment. You may have gotten our goods, but we got your brother. The sins of one should not fall upon the shoulders of the innocent. Shep will not be handed over, no matter what my brother Thorn’s orders are to the crew.” Preacher’s sick laugh fills our now silent room as we watch the video, helpless to do anything for Slice.
“Joshua 21:44 . And the Lord gave them rest on every side, according to all that he had sworn to their fathers, and no one of all their enemies stood before them; the Lord gave all their enemies into their hand. The Lord delivered you unto our hand, Hellion. We have been given rest. And now the Lord hath delivered our enemies to our hand,” Preacher recites the scripture in his sick, twisted version.
Then he pulls a knife out of his waistband. Taunting Slice, he cuts across his forearms. Four cuts on each arm for the eight shipments we have taken from their club. Slice fights against the unrelenting restraints as his arms bleed out, grunting in pain.
“By these hands, you stole from my family. By these hands, you pay,”
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