The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club (44 page)

His heart had always fallen with the club in all decisions. If it was good for the club, it was good for him. Gunner knew as he stood there that what was best for the club could be the worst thing for him.
Fuck
.
Let’s just get this shit over and done with.

Trask and Gunner rode alone to Silverado Ranch. Raven watched them pull out from the destroyed warehouse on East St. Louis Street. Faith was tightening a few makeshift bandages on the bikers that had been wounded in the fight. Raven’s heart seized when her man twisted back on the throttle. Gunner looked back once before they made a half left and were out of sight.

She stood watching for a few minutes, even after the sounds of the motorcycle engines had faded to the west. She stared until Faith snapped her out of it with a hand on the shoulder. Raven jumped and let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“I know what you see. You can only see one thing, and he just rode away on the back of a Harley.” Faith smiled. She knew exactly how it felt to see her man driving away without her. “He’ll be back. I’ve seen them drive away more times than I like to count, and I see the way Gunner looks at you. He’ll be back if he has to drag himself through the desert.”

“How do you do it? How do you play the waiting game with that kind of resolve, Faith?” Raven felt like her knees would give out. She had no idea how she’d ride the four hours back to Bakersfield without Gunner beside her on the highway.

Faith ran a finger down Raven’s cheek. “You
learn
, dear. You learn to play the game. I never knew if Bear would come back to me, but I learned to believe him when he told me that he would. I trusted in his ability, and I trusted in his brothers to keep him safe.”

Raven shook her head. “But you didn’t go crazy?”

“I almost did. I sat waiting for him for more than five years. Did you know that? I couldn’t even see him, because I knew the cops were watching me. I couldn’t even see Trask’s father through glass. Couldn’t even talk to him over the phone for five years.”

Raven couldn’t even comprehend waiting that long for Gunner. She would go insane, but part of her
knew
she could do it. Part of her knew that their love would be just as strong after five years. She was starting to understand the grit and pain of true love.

“How amazing was it when you saw him for the first time?”

Faith smiled and looked off in the direction her son had ridden. “I’ll remember that moment for the rest of my life. It was better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

Raven turned back to the empty road. She hoped that when Gunner returned, she’d feel that same incredible emotions.

“Dear, I know you’re hurting, but let’s go home. I can’t imagine how tired you are.”

Raven laughed, thankful for a distraction of any kind, “Me? Faith, you were
kidnapped!
”

The older woman brushed it off. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“God, you are as tough as everyone says.” Raven admired Faith more and more. “You mind riding behind me for a few hours?”

Faith shook her head. “I think I’ll need to be up front. Some of the Sons can ride, but I don’t know if they’ll last four hours. Let’s try to make it to Barstow, then we’ll take a break and feed these boys.”

Raven looked over the men once again. Aside from the three that had given the ultimate sacrifice, no one was seriously injured. She tried to comprehend what the club would look like. They had lost some charter members, some kids right off the street, and the founding member was still in a coma. There were fifteen new kids eager to join in Bakersfield and in Davis, but were they best for the club?

Raven didn’t have the answer. “You’re right. Let’s get back to California.”

As they rode, she wondered what the Rising Sons would look like going forward. Trask and Hope would head back to Davis so he could keep building the northern chapter of the club. In Bakersfield, Gunner would take over the presidency, at least until Bear woke up.
If he wakes up,
Raven corrected.

She looked over at Faith, who was riding one of the new recruit’s bikes with an injured man on back. She’d never looked like a biker or even an ol’ lady to Raven, but now she had her hair tied back into quick pigtails and wore a black and gray skull bandana over her forehead. Raven thought the look suited her.

Faith had a smile on her face, and Raven began to believe all the rumors about just how amazing the matriarch of the Rising Sons was.

The miles clicked away, and Raven tried to focus on anything but what was happening in Paradise. She told herself over and over again that Gunner would come back, and maybe killing Vegas would give him the peace he needed. Trigger’s death was tearing Gunner up, and Raven didn’t know what she could do to help him. It was something he had to figure out himself.

She hated to see him so tortured. He was strong enough to keep it together for the club, but she could see cracks forming. He was taking risks, not thinking through things. He was going to get himself killed.
Maybe that’s what he wants.
Raven shook the thought from her head the second it entered. He would never do something so stupid. Not after everything he had told her.

She leaned into the wind, wishing the trip was through. The open road was normally a calming place, but there was no calming Raven at that moment. There was no calm until her man rode back into town unharmed. There was work to do back in Bakersfield, and maybe it would be enough to keep her distracted.

They had called ahead to Hope, and she was setting up a makeshift clinic in Tanner’s garage. Jenny was helping her gather supplies and clean the place up. No one else was going to die, as long as Hope got to them. Stitches were needed, burns needed tending to, and there were a few broken fingers that required splinting.

Raven took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than for the day to be over.

Gunner’s guts twisted in rage and dread. He wanted Vegas dead. He knew Trask would feel the same way. They had both lost somebody they cared about because of that stupid kid. They were both cast into leadership roles because of him, too. Gunner knew there’d be head-butting between the two of them in the future, but they would manage to make it work. They had proven to the Rising Sons that the club was more important than ego.

Now they rode together, just the two of them. Together they’d take out Vegas, restore the honor to their club, and begin the rebuilding process.

As they drove, his heart ached for Raven. She had changed every part of him, and all for the better. He felt stronger, smarter, and better when she was around him. He could still lead, and he could still fire a gun, but he thought about other things. He thought about the lives of his men. When he’d decided that he and Trask should go alone, it wasn’t about ego. It was about all the women that the Rising Sons had left in California to come fight. They had already lost one, and if anyone else was going to die, it was going to be someone who had it coming.

Gunner would do everything in his power to make sure he rode into the sunset, but he couldn’t make any promises to Raven. He wanted to. He wanted to promise her anything her heart desired, but the pain of leaving promises unfulfilled was too painful. Trask was one of the best fighters he knew, and they would protect each other. He had two girls waiting for his return. Gunner wondered what that would feel like. He began to think about a family.

They parked a ways down from the motel in an alley. With the bikes leaning on their stands, both men checked their weapons without a word. Each had two handguns, and each had two full magazines of ammunition. Trask nodded to Gunner, and they turned to seek out room number eight.

The streets were quiet, and Gunner could almost hear the Ennio Morricone soundtrack playing in the background. The echoing guitar, the powerful trumpets—if a tumbleweed made its way across Gunner and Trask’s path, it wouldn’t have surprised either man one bit.

The motel was coming up, and Gunner’s heart raced. There was no controlling it, and there was no need to. It was beating hard for a reason. It was surging adrenaline through his body. It made his reactions quicker, his eyes wider, and his senses all more acute. Gunner loved the pounding of his heart. He smiled and cracked his knuckles.

Walking up the driveway, the two men passed the front office. A fan ambled back and forth inside the door, but no one was present at that moment. They strolled past like they didn’t have a care in the world.

Trask grabbed the railing and swung himself around the corner leading to the row of doors. Gunner followed, looking at the metal numbers on each door. It started at one, and he looked ahead, finding the eighth just across from the gate to the pool.

He felt everything in that walk down to Vegas’s room. Every breath he took, ever step seemed magnified, like they held more weight than ever before. It was time. They could hear music playing, getting louder as they approached room eight.

Passing the seventh door, Trask slowed, letting Gunner move beyond him. The music was coming from Vegas’ room. It worked in their favor. Between that and the closed curtains, they had surprise on their side. Trask backed up to the wall just before the door. Gunner stood in front of it. The two men each pulled out a gun and made their peace. Trask watched Gunner, waiting for the move.

Gunner put a foot hard into the door, just inside the handle. The heavy door gave with a shower of wood splinters. Gunner had the gun pointed into the room, and a surprised man looked up from a bed.

Gunner smiled. “Don’t fucking move, asshole.”

The man slowly raised his hands. Gunner moved forward and grabbed the pistol that was sitting on the dresser opposite him. Trask checked outside once more before following Gunner in. He closed the door. He had to lift it to get it anywhere near the fame, but pushing the slider across held it in place. Trask kept his gun trained on the man on the bed as he followed Gunner.

The bathroom door was closed. Frank Sinatra was singing about
Strangers in the Night
as Gunner and Trask moved into the hotel room. A broken mirror littered a desk and the floor right below it. Among the shards was a cell phone, and when Gunner turned the screen on, he saw a number of missed calls and texts. They were all from Carlos. The Mexican had told the truth, so he wasn’t a total shit.

“What the fuck’s this all about?” The guy on the bed sounded strung out. He barely reacted when Trask told him to shut his damn mouth.

They moved to the bathroom. Gunner didn’t wait for Trask to get in position this time. There was no need to kick in the door; it had no lock. Gunner grabbed the handle, turned, and pushed in with his shoulders.

The bathroom was small, so small that the door hit Vegas hard, knocking him into the tub. His feet gave out and he slid against the tiled wall and fell in, grasping at the shower curtain for any support he could get. The crack of his head on porcelain rang out.

Trask stood back, the gun trained through the doorway. Gunner was in the way of his shot, but Trask had his finger off the trigger and his eye on the first man on the bed.

Gunner grabbed Vegas by his loose button-up shirt, his voice nothing more than a growl. “Get the fuck up, you Beach-Boy-lookin’ motherfucker.”