Tanner's War by Amber Morgan

Norse had a temper, sure, but that was … a tantrum.
    “Let him go,” Nash said, dismissing
Norse with a wave of his hand. “We need to find Tanner and Wolf first. Norse
said some punk snatched Beth—it’s gotta be a member
of her cult.”
    “So they’ve gone to rescue her?”
Roxy asked. Her heart stung for the poor girl and despite her shock at Norse’s
outburst, she couldn’t help feel he was right on this one—Nash shouldn’t get
between Tanner and his target.
    Nash shook his head. “Sounds like
she was taken from here, after Tanner and Wolf set off.” He looked to his vice
president. “This is a clusterfuck waiting to happen.
You ready to go clean up?”
    Roxy chewed her lip, watching her
old man. Judge stroked his beard and grinned. “You know me, boss. Always ready
for action.”
    “You guys be careful,” Roxy said, knowing it was pointless.
    Judge kissed her, a rough, fast
kiss that made her knees knock even after all their years together. “You know
me, honey. Always careful.”
    “Yeah, I do know you, both of you,”
she said. “That’s the problem.”
    ****
    Out past the abandoned ruins of
Heatherton Farm, the road got rougher and narrower, and the fields full of
golden corn turned to empty beds of mud and grit. Storm clouds bloomed like
bruises overhead and billboards plastered with doom-filled Bible verses popped
up along the roadside. Doom has come upon
you, upon you who dwell in the land. And they will be tormented day and night
forever and ever. For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.
    Tanner had never been one for
religion, but the billboards were creepy as fuck. There was no doubt they were
in Church territory now. Up ahead, he could see clusters of low buildings
appearing.
    He killed his speed as they got
closer to the village, taking in the run-down buildings and almost visible
sense of gloom hanging over the place. The only signs of life were the
vegetable patches in every garden, which looked fresh, green, and thriving.
When he cut his bike’s engine, he heard chickens clucking softly and the
distant lowing of cows. He guessed a place like this had to be as
self-sufficient as possible—the better to keep outsiders away. What he couldn’t
see or hear was people, and that was just plain creepy. The silence and
emptiness of the village was oppressive.
    He left his bike leaning against a
rotting wooden fence and waited for Wolf to join him. The mindless rage that
drove him here still burned away in his blood, but the ride had cleared his
head a little. It was tempting as hell to just rip through the town on his
bike, stir up some trouble, rattle some cages and tear off again. But that
wouldn’t help Beth or avenge Mia. If anything, it could make things much worse.
He needed Abram and the whole fucking cult to know that his woman was
off-limits. That any woman Wild Blood cared for was off-limits. And that
justice for hurting them would come fast and hard. He needed to send a message.
    “What’s the plan?” Wolf asked,
coming to his side.
    Tanner scanned the streets, looking
for a church or chapel. It seemed the obvious place to start. “Let’s find the
bastard in charge and see if we can change his views on a few things.”
    “ Shoulda brought a baseball bat.” Wolf mimed swinging one. “Nothing gets a man’s
attention like one of those aiming for his balls.”
    Tanner smirked, amused despite
himself. “ You talking from personal experience?”
    “I broke a lot of knees back home. A lot of knees and a lot of hearts. Sometimes
one lead to the other.” Wolf grinned, but a shadow passed over his face,
making him look older for a second.
    Tanner didn’t know much about Wolf.
He’d been a prospect while Tanner was in prison, and newly patched in when he
came out. He came from Louisiana, he liked to fuck, he liked to fight, and that
was it. Another time, when Beth was safe, Tanner would ask him what he left
behind to join Wild Blood, what shadows hung over him.