Unwilling Protector (Steel Vipers MC)
Page 1
Chapter 1
Train
The Mission
“Motherfucker!” Marcum slams the phone down. Most of us in this room are men that have been hardened by life—including me—but when he slams a phone down like that, anger rolling off him in waves, it takes all I have not to jump. As I look around at Ride and a few of the other brothers, I figure they all feel the same.
The club has changed a lot the last few years. Me, Ride, Ghost, and Marcum are about all the ones left of the original members. Ever since Topper died unexpectedly and Babs left, there was a subtle shift in the club. We’ve got some promising prospects, plus things have been quiet—well, if you don’t count today.
“Did Hound find Ghost?” Ride asks, and you can feel the atmosphere in the room intensify.
No one here is happy.
Ghost has been radio-silent for two fucking weeks. Marcum had given him a week, but when we still hadn’t heard shit from him after that, he called in Hound. Hound was a born tracker—hence his name. The boys laugh and say that he could find a dime bag of coke in a blizzard, and they aren’t wrong. He’s slick as fuck when hunting.
“He’s in a hospital in Charlotte, North Carolina.”
“What the fuck is he doing there? I thought he told you he was just taking some time off for a vacation. He even mentioned heading off to Texas to find him a cowgirl.”
“If I knew all the answers, Train, it wouldn’t have taken me so long to find him, now, would it?” Marcum snapped.
I hold my hands up in surrender. Marcum may be getting some age on him, but he’s a mean motherfucker and I’m not about to challenge the Prez. I’m not afraid, but I’m not sure I can take him, either. Even if I did, I don’t want to be president of this fucking crew. That’s a headache I never want. I’m happy being part of the Steel Vipers. It’s something I love but as a member—not a leader.
“So, what’s next?”
“We load up and head out to North Carolina first thing in the morning.”
“How is Ghost?” Ride asks, and shit, I feel guilty I didn’t ask that first. I’m worried about him. Hell, we’ve all been worried about him. But I’m not the type to verbalize that shit. I focus on explanations and what I can do to fix it all. That’s how I operate—how I’ve always operated.
“In a fucking coma.”
“Jesus,” I hiss, feeling this sickness slide through me. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but that truly wasn’t it.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Damn hospital wouldn’t tell me shit,” Marcum mutters. “All I know is he’s stable. That’s it. I can’t handle things there until tomorrow. I need to make sure Toi is okay and get Jack to watch over shit here. She could go into labor anytime. I’m not leaving her alone.”
“Ride and I can go. You stay here with Toi.”
“We don’t know what kind of shit you’ll face down there. I’m not sending two men out without backup,” Marcum responds, clearly torn.
“Fuck, Marcum, cut us some slack. Me and Train can handle shit. We’re not some wet behind the ears prospects.”
Brambles huffs in the background. He’s the oldest prospect and he’s not exactly happy he’s not been patched in. His impatience is the biggest reason, but none of us are about to explain fuck to him.
Marcum shakes his head no, without saying a word. I decide to wade in. I do it for several reasons, the most important being that I don’t like the idea of Ghost lying in the hospital with no one covering his back.
“Is Charlotte close to where the Devil’s Blaze is starting a new chapter? We’re loosely allied with them, right? You’ve got a marker to use. If we get into trouble, Ride and I can go there.”
Marcum grunts. My lips twitch. Ride and I share a look because we know.
We’re headed to North Carolina.
Chapter 2
Train
Twelve hours straight on the back of a bike used to be a fuck of a lot more fun when I was younger. Now, all it does is make me feel old as fuck. When we got into town, we went straight to the hospital. That was an hour ago, and now it feels as if we are all silently seething. Ghost is a good man. Probably one of the best men I know. To find my brother shot in the back and in the shape he’s in, is a gut punch.
It would take some weak, mother-fucking coward to do a man that way. Some ball less, gutless, ass-wipe gunned down a good man and left him to die. He underwent surgery to remove the bullet, but the injuries he sustained when his bike flipped over into a ravine are complicating everything. He’s in a medically induced coma right now, hooked up to machines and listed in serious condition.