After the Fall: The Fallen Men, #4 Read online

  I was fuckin’ thrilled when Zeus opened the carved chapel doors to announce they’d voted in my favour. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he and Axe-Man had been the two to flip on the other older contingent.

  Still, winnin’ was sour grapes because Skell, Heckler, Buck, and Wiseguy were not fuckin’ happy with me when they walked out to straddle their hogs and get down the mountain as part of the faction that would follow the Berserkers to their store house.

  Zeus had slapped me on the back and ordered Ransom to pour me a beer. “You wanna be callin’ shots, you gotta be prepared to get the odd stray bullet to your gut.”

  “Great,” I’d muttered into my beer, unused to havin’ people be angry with me.

  “You get used to it. ’Sides, those old motherfuckers got a short memory.”

  I grinned as I remembered the way my old man had winked and laughed. Joinin’ up with The Fallen had been the right decision, and I knew it every time I got to sit with my dad and shoot the shit with him like it was part of my job ’cause it was. If I’d gotten employment outside of the club, he would’ve loved me just the same, but I would’ve missed out on talkin’ to him in any kinda real way, because even the Prez’s son was exempt from club business if he wasn’t a member, and after Lou, that club was Zeus’s life.

  I was sick and fuckin’ tired of being left out of the decision-makin’, though, which was why tonight was a massive gamble that absolutely fuckin’ had to pay off.

  There was a discernable shift in the energy of the crew as we near Exit 78 and the scene of the ambush. We’d decided to go down real easy, lull them into a false sense of security so they wouldn’t be hyper vigilant checkin’ their tails on the way back to Vancouver.

  It went against the grain for us. In a sense, we were a pack of animals, loyal to our brothers, but vicious as hell when outsiders intruded on our territory. Only the least temperamental men rode with me––Axe-Man, Curtains, Nova, and Cyclops––because it took a special breed of man to take a hit and roll with it instead of fightin’ back.

  Just before we hit the exit, I held up a fist and called out, “Live free, die hard!”

  Our club motto was echoed back to me over the howl of the wind, and moments later, they were on us.

  It was a dark night, the moon obscured by filmy clouds, the ocean refractin’ the anemic light like a dull mirror so that we could see the grainy outline of the sheer cliffs to our left and the drop to the water below on our right.

  Perfect weather to stage an ambush.

  They were suddenly in front of us, a dozen men appearin’ like demons out of the shadows, forcin’ us to come to sudden, grindin’ halts that sent our bikes careenin’ into the asphalt. The road tore up my right side, rippin’ through the denim like sharp teeth, scrapin’ up my side with burning claws. I gritted my teeth as I kicked free of my Harley before it could crush me and rolled with my momentum until I landed in a kneelin’ position.

  The fightin’ at my back had already started, the dull thwack of fists against flesh and grunts of exertion as my brothers fought just hard enough to make it realistic.

  I braced on my torn-up knee and pushed to my feet, hissin’ at the fiery burn of road rash down my side. The base of my spine tingled, and I spun around in a crouch, knife in hand, to face the two men who’d crept up on me.

  One, of course, was Wrath.

  He stared at me with the cold eyes of a killer, his face filled with savagery as if the taste of fighting in the air had infected him with rabid intent.

  For a second, I thought he’d turn on me.

  In the next, I shifted slightly so my left side was visible only to him, and I winked at him.

  Even in the dark, even with adrenaline fuzzin’ the edges of my vision, I saw his lips twitch.

  Yeah, Wrath Marsden was with me.

  So I angled my body toward the other biker, readyin’ for anythin’ because the ’serkers were fuckin’ crazy.

  Only, it wasn’t a Berserker wearin’ a leather cut and motorcycle boots, but the one man other than my father I could say had a hand in raisin’ me.

  Lionel Danner.

  I blinked, trying to right the palimpsest my vision made of him three years ago when I’d last locked eyes on the man, and he’d been as he always was, stern, decked out western Canadian style in denim on denim with aviators tucked forever in his shirt, to the guy wearin’ a leather cut and steel-toed motorcycle boots as if he was born in ’em.

  He looked shell-shocked by the sight of me, and when Wrath stepped forward to attack me, Lion took a step too as if to stop him.

  I watched him as Wrath swung and connected hard with my right cheek. Pain blasted through my eye and sinuses like explosive, bright and colourful bursts behind my closed lids. Eyes slatted open against the ache, I launched myself at Wrath, laughter in my chest as we grappled. It reminded me of bein’ a boy and wrestlin’ with Mute, tusslin’ and inflictin’ pain but only enough to score a point.

  That was what Wrath and I did for a while, exchangin’ blows, aimin’ away from the tender places but givin’ it good when we landed a punch. Sometime in there, Lion moved away, and it was only us fightin’ at the edge of the fray.

  “Quit fuckin’ smilin’ like a goon,” Wrath grumbled as I connected with his chin and sent him stumblin’ backward. “You wanna give us away?”

  I swallowed the metallic taste of adrenaline off my tongue and bit the corner of my lip to halt the smile before it could form again.

  “Now, you fuckin’ get down and stay down. Grease and Mutt’re leadin’ this pack, and they’re crazy ass motherfuckers.”

  A gunshot sliced through the silent night, reverberatin’ off the cliffs and out over the ocean. My blood went hot, then cold with dread.

  Who the hell had they shot?

  If they’d kill one of my brothers, I’d shoot this plan dead in the water and murder every last one of those motherfuckers.

  “Down,” Wrath growled, shovin’ me to the ground and then turnin’ on his boot to run toward the rest of his club who were huddled around a moanin’ body.

  I’d never been happier to hear moans of pain because it meant no one was dead.

  Not yet.

  Grease, the Berserkers VP, rallied them together along with three bags of our shit and took off with most of them as the sound of sirens began to wail faintly from up north.

  As soon as the grumble of bikes receded to a low purr, I shot to my feet despite the ache in my body and jogged over to my fallen brother.

  Wrath intercepted me before I could reach him with a strong grip on my arm.

  “That went off without a hitch.”

  “You call a brother of mine gettin’ hit, goin’ off without a hitch?” I asked, my raised brows cuttin’ lines in my forehead. “You forget if things go your way, that man moanin’ on the ground will be your brother too.”

  “Don’t forget it,” Wrath said with an eye roll. “You’re just bein’ overprotective. So he got a little bullet wound. He’ll live.”

  I shoved him, but I could tell by the conversation Lion and Axe-Man seemed to be having that everythin’ was goin’ to be fine with my Fallen brethren.

  Lion was already crouched over him, slappin’ lightly at Axe-Man’s face to rouse him from his painful stupor.

  “Fuck,” the massive blond man wheezed. “Fuck you, you fuckin’ ’serker.”

  “Shut the fuck up and put pressure here. The cops are comin’, and they’ll get you to the hospital.”

  “Fuck you,” Axe-Man repeated before launchin’ a wet missile of spit at Lion’s shocked face.

  Lion wiped his cheek roughly, then cursed under his breath and turned toward us, carefully rearrangin’ his features when we locked eyes. The man’d always been private, reserved to the point of coldness, and unflappably polite.

  It would’ve been fair to say few people really knew the man he was beneath the good guy, gentleman cop persona, but I did.

  And so did Harleigh Rose.

&nb
sp; In fact, if anyone knew him, it was my little sister, and if anyone loved him better than anyone else, it would’ve been her too.

  “Thanks, man,” I grumbled to Wrath. I was pissed Axe-Man was hurt, but it wasn’t his fault. “Did you have to hit me so fuckin’ hard, though?”

  The mammoth masqueradin’ as a man shrugged, shoulders about ready to rip through his tee. “Had to look the part.”

  “Yeah, well don’t think anyone’s gonna be the wiser the way you clocked me. Jesus, have a headache for a week after this. Cress is not gonna be happy with the shiner.” Which wasn’t exactly true. My girl hated to see me hurt, but she also got a helluva rush from takin’ a fuckin’ from me after I’d been out on a run when the animalistic side of me was pushed to the forefront.

  “What the fuck is goin’ on here?” Lion finally asked after watchin’ us like a novice at his first tennis match.

  I swallowed my laughter, but it coloured my tone when I said, “Good to see ya, man. Have to say, like the leather better than the Canadian cowboy look you usually got goin’ on.”

  “What the fuck?” he repeated.

  This time, it couldn’t be helped. Laughter coiled in my belly and sprung forth so loudly, I had to tip my head back and clutch my gut to keep upright.

  Recovered, I wiped a tear from my eye and grinned at him, tryin’ not to chuckle against the irritated bewilderment stamped on his face. “Yeah, betcha thinkin’ what the fuck right ’bout now, but we don’t got time to clue you in. I gotta see if Axe-Man’s gonna make it, and you two gotta get the fuck outta here.”

  Wrath grunted in affirmation and stalked off. I made to do the same, but stopped shoulder to shoulder beside Lion and locked eyes with him.

  “Good to see you, Danny,” I murmured, usin’ the nickname my twelve-year-old self had given him. “Stay safe, yeah?”

  “Lion, get movin’!” Wrath hollered from down the hill where they’d stashed their rides, and I took it as my cue to get a move on too.

  Axe-Man was fine. The bullet had gone through and through just under his lat muscle, and after we tied his bad arm down to the handle, he was able to ride back to Entrance on his own bike.

  We took the backroad up the mountain, passin’ the cops racin’ down to the scene just through a copse of trees, but we made it safely to the clubhouse in no time. As soon as I walked through the doors, Ransom was handin’ me his cell.

  “Sup?” I asked, pinnin’ it between my ear and my shoulder as I reached over the bar to grab a cold beer waitin’ for someone else on the counter.

  “We got ’em,” Bat pronounced, glee evident in his voice. “We fuckin’ got ’em.”

  I cracked open the beer usin’ the side of the counter and lifted it into the air before cryin’ out to the boys in the clubhouse. “We got ’em!”

  A rally of cheers went up from the dozen men surroundin’ me as beers were quickly handed out, and someone turned up the music, Esterly’s “This Is My World” screaming through the air.

  “How much?” I shouted over the noise before takin’ a pull of my beer.

  Energy still coursed through, jerkin’ my knee as I sat on the stool, thrummin’ through my fingers as I drummed them against the bar top. This was why the club always had women on hand, biker bunnies who hung around because they liked the taste of men in leather and the feel of all the rough and wild between their thighs. The brothers could plug that excess energy after a ride or a fight into their outlet and finally come down from the high.

  Needed somethin’ to take my mind off it so I could focus on what needed to be done then get back home to my woman.

  One of the girls, a gorgeous redhead I’d once played around with named Tempest Riley, caught my eye from across the room and jerked her head up in question.

  I looked away, not botherin’ to answer.

  Everyone knew Cress was it for me, but it didn’t stop some of them from tryin’.

  “Near three hundred pounds of green and a motherfuckin’ arsenal of guns. Seems the rumours are true, and they got an in with the Port Authority to smuggle this shit through the harbour.”

  “Fuck.” The Fallen didn’t deal in anythin’ but primo marijuana. We grew it, sold it, and distributed it from sea to shinin’ fuckin’ sea. They were apeshit for it over in China, and we were in hot demand even across the world in Australia. It was Zeus’s gig when he cleaned up the club after his uncle Crux got The Fallen involved in some fucked enterprises, and it was one we were all good with. We still made cake, and we didn’t have to deal with the moral or physical fallout associated with the harder stuff.

  But weapons… those could be sold for a tidy profit or, even better maybe, stockpiled in case of Armageddon.

  “What’s Z say about the guns?” I asked.

  “We’ll take some, not all. We don’t have the kinda apparatus to deal arms.”

  “True, and I gotta feelin’ the Van PD are lurkin’ around that club. Best leave somethin’ to be found, yeah?”

  Bat was quiet for a beat, readin’ into what I wasn’t sayin’ in the way he could. He was a former SEAL and one of the smartest men I knew. Had no doubt in my mind he knew I was keepin’ secrets; he just respected me enough to let me hold them close for now.

  “Wrappin’ things up. Be back around three in the mornin’, set the time for Chapel.”

  “Will do, brother. Stay safe.”

  “Yeah. And King? Well done, brother. A gamble, but well fuckin’ worth it. Wish I’d been the one to think it up,” he praised.

  And I felt that, the praise, like water and sunlight on the small tree of pride growin’ up my spine. I was learning my place, earnin’ my place in the club with men who had raised me, inspired me, and fuckin’ loved me since I was a boy. It felt good. No, it felt like comin’ home, to have that kinda respect from men I’d always seen as leather backed heroes.

  “Thanks, man,” I murmured, tryin’ to keep the ache out of my voice and then decidin’ I didn’t give a shit if he knew how much I cared because he deserved to know I loved him. “Means a lot.”

  “Means a lot you came home in the end,” he countered and then, as was his way, abruptly hung up.

  “Hey, King!” Curtains hollered from near the pool tables as red and blue lights started to flash against the walls. “Think we got some company.”

  “Fuck,” I muttered as I slammed my beer down and prowled to the door, Nova and Cy falling into step on either side of me.

  There were two police cars parked at angles in the driveway behind the chain-link gates that separated the compound from the road, and Staff Sergeant Danner stood before them, hands on his hips, eyes hot on me even from across the yards of pavement.

  “Need somethin’, Harold?” I called out, stayin’ on the doorstep instead of goin’ to him like he would’ve wanted.

  “Got a call about a turf war out near Exit 78. Reports of shots fired and motorbikes. You know anything about that?”

  “Hmm…” I rubbed my hand over my stubbled chin as I faux pondered. “Nah, not likely. We’ve been holed up here celebratin’ Nova finally sleepin’ with a girl from Nigeria.”

  “Doin’ the ’round the world challenge,” Nova drawled as he took a seat on the stair and sprawled out. “Hit ninety-seven countries so far. Got a taste for somethin’ Nordic next.”

  One of the officers waitin’ with Danner choked on his laughter as he swallowed it down.

  “Cut the crap,” Danner shouted. “We’re checkin’ hospitals. There was blood found at the scene, so I’m guessing one of yours or the other was hurt badly. When we find the hit biker, we’ll know the truth.”

  “You do that, Danner,” I agreed easily because Axe-Man was currently in one of the closed garage bays bein’ seen to by Dr. Ross who’d been on The Fallen payroll for decades. He was losin’ his eyesight, but it was better than nothin’. “Give us a call, you need help with your investigation.”

  The fumes of anger between us turned the air waxy with the heat of our hatred. Danner stoo
d there, braced, itchin’ so fiercely for a fight I wondered if he’d break down the gate and come at me.

  Finally, he turned and got back into his cruiser.

  The other car lingered as Danner drove away, and I realized why when Gibson emerged from the car with Hutchinson, the only two cops left who were even mildly friendly to The Fallen.

  For them, I got my ass in gear and went to meet them at the gates. Gibson’s face was contoured with confused misery, but Hutchinson’s was close to panic as he pressed his cheek to the fence.

  “Danner’s got a tip on one of your locations,” he hissed. “Apparently, someone called in about a suspected grow-op in the mountains near Squamish.”

  Gibson held a hand up before I could say a thing. “I don’t want to know whether or not that place is real or yours or what. I barely wanted to be here to tell you about it…this goes against everything I’ve previously believed in, but fuck, I don’t sanction the way SS Danner is coming after you, and I don’t think you’re all as evil as you might seem. You especially, not if Lion raised you.”

  I peered through the shadows at Riley Gibson, seein’ him for the first time maybe ever. His skin was pale and crumpled like used waxed paper, unhealthy and exhausted no doubt from sleepless nights ponderin’ his morality. He was the kind of man, like Lion, whose conscience weight heavy on his soul, and I knew whatever Danner was plannin’ for the club had to be fuckin’ dark to get Gibson on our side.

  Nodded curtly and stuck my hands in my pockets as I rocked back on my heels. “Appreciate the call, boys.”

  Hutchinson tipped his chin, knowin’ he’d wake up in the mornin’ to a shit ton of grade A weed on his doorstep like a gift from the fuckin’ tooth fairy. Payment for his aid.

  But Gibson hesitated, so conflicted I could see the war of it clash in his eyes even in the darkness.

  “You gonna be good to handle it?” he questioned quietly, eyes dartin’ over my shoulder to the brothers who waited on the stoop of the clubhouse.

  Waited until his gaze locked with mine so he could see straight down through to my soul. “Nothin’ is all black or all white, Gibson. Might’ve hurt you to come give me the knowledge, but you gotta know, this place and these people here aren’t about chaos and murder and wrongness. Yeah, we got our own code, but the cornerstones of that are loyalty and brotherhood. You just helped us out. Means one day, somehow, we’ll repay the debt. Don’t worry about bein’ found in bed with us, either. Not one of us is a nark, least of all me, not to a man like you, not to a friend of Lion’s, yeah?”