Page 23 of Chaos Bound
Holt’s gaze fell to her mouth. “Naiya…”
She licked her lips and leaned closer, so close she could feel the heat of his breath. “Please.”
He leaned in, and she jammed the needle into his tattooed arm and pushed the plunger.
With a roar of anger, Holt shoved her away, ripping out the syringe. “What the fuck? What the fuck did you do?” He came at her, backing her up against the wall, and for the first time since she met him, she felt truly afraid.
“I’m sorry.” She held out her hands in a placating gesture. “It will just make you sleep. They’ll kill you, Holt. I can’t let you die so soon after you got out of that dungeon.”
His handsome face twisted into a curious mask of rage and despair, disbelief and betrayal. “Fuck, Naiya. This was all I wanted. A chance to get back at the Jacks.”
“You want Viper,” she said, struggling to keep her voice firm as the veins in his neck throbbed. “You know he won’t come out on a mission like this. He’s back at the clubhouse, and you won’t get your revenge if you die now.”
He reached for her, his hands just brushing the sides of her neck before he staggered back and into Doug’s chest.
“Christ.” His gaze never left hers as he struggled to stay upright. “You shouldn’t have…” His eyes closed, and Doug caught him as he fell.
“That was so wrong.” Doug heaved Holt over one shoulder. “So damn wrong. A man has the right to choose his own destiny. You can’t take that choice from him.”
“His destiny isn’t to die right now before he gets what he really wants,” Naiya bit out, surprising herself with the conviction in her tone. “Now let’s get him to the car.”
Naiya and Ally supported Holt’s other side and they carried him to the passageway that led to the back of the motel.
“He was a prisoner for three months.” She heaved in a breath as she tried to take more of Holt’s weight. “He’s not thinking straight. He has no chance against a bunch of Jacks alone, barely able to walk, and with only one gun and no ammo. I won’t stop him from going after them and having his revenge. But not now.”
“I wouldn’t want to be you when he wakes up.” Doug tossed the keys to Ally and she opened the passenger door of their sporty green SUV. “I’ll take you up to my brother’s cabin. It’s only a few hours away and very isolated. We can pick up some food along the way. No one will find you there. Ally and I will stick around until he wakes up. Run interference.”
“No. I want you guys as far away from me as possible,” Naiya said as they eased Holt into the vehicle. “If anything happened to you, I couldn’t bear it. I made this choice. I’ll pay the price.”
SEVEN
TANK
Tank wandered into Big Bill’s Custom Motorcycles and Artwork dazed and floundering, his senses numbed by alcohol and lack of sleep. In all his imaginings, he had always pictured himself picking up T-Rex’s bike because his friend had come home. He had saved it from the original Big Bill’s shop after Viper burned it down, and brought it to Evie after she’d rebuilt the business in a new location. He’d made sure it would be as good as new and ready for T-Rex to ride. And then Snake had ruined everything.
Dax had worked him over the way only Dax could, and Snake never changed his story. T-Rex had survived three months in Viper’s dungeon. Three months in pain. Three months in agony. Three months alone and believing until the end the Sinners would come for him, that Tank would have his back.
Tank pulled out his flask and finished the last of his whiskey. Hope no longer burned in his chest, but the whiskey soothed his pain.
“Hey, Tank. How can I help you?” Evie looked up from the counter and Tank forced a smile. It wasn’t Evie’s fault that Viper had become obsessed with her, or that Viper had gone to the shop that day because her former boss, Big Bill, had tried to rip Viper off. And it wasn’t Evie’s fault that T-Rex had saved her from Viper by offering himself in Evie’s place.
“I came for T-Rex’s bike.”
Evie’s smile faded and pain flickered across her face. “I’ll tell the guys in the garage to bring it round.”
Tank checked out the bike gear as he waited for her to return. Evie had kept everything from the name to what was left of Big Bill’s inventory when she rebuilt the shop. She sold everything from new and used bikes to gear and parts. Out back, the mechanics did fixes and tune-ups, and Evie did custom paintwork. He’d thought about getting some artwork for T-Rex as a welcome home present, but now he knew his buddy was never coming back.
“They’ll have it for you in a few minutes.” Evie came around the counter and held out a folder. “These are the designs I had worked up after we talked about artwork for the bike. I thought you might like to have them.”
His hand shook as he took the folder and he held it against his chest. If he looked at them now, he’d embarrass himself and dishonor T-Rex’s memory, just as he had done at the funeral three months ago. He sniffed, inhaling the scent of leather and the new bike smell that T-Rex loved. Tank had gone with T-Rex to pick out a bike the day after T-Rex had patched into the club, and T-Rex had cracked him up breathing in the new bike smell so deep he’d choked himself. That was the same day Tank had given T-Rex the knife his grandfather had given him, repaired, polished, and sharpened to celebrate T-Rex’s patch-in. He’d had a message engraved on the hilt. Something straight from the fucking heart.
“I heard about Snake,” she said softly, pulling him back into the moment. “I’m so sorry, Tank. I knew from the fact you hadn’t picked up the bike that you still hoped.”
Fuck. He wished she’d stop being nice. Zane’s old lady was T-Rex’s type, slim and pretty with dark hair and green eyes. T-Rex had tried to hit on her when they were first assigned to protect her, not realizing she’d been the woman Zane had held a torch for all the years they’d known him.
He nodded his thanks, unable to speak for the lump in his throat, and headed outside where Shooter, the newest full-patch member of the Sinner’s Tribe, was loading T-Rex’s bike into the trailer under the guidance of Shaggy, the oldest member of the club.
Stocky, and broad-shouldered, with a short blond buzz cut, Shooter looked like he should be playing high school football instead of running with an outlaw MC, but he knew his way around a gun and was one of the best marksmen in the club, albeit a little out of control.
