Saving Della Ray

“Isn’t that his real name? Tyler? Why doesn’t he have a nickname?”

I shrugged. “I really don’t know. He was in the club way before me. I guess he didn’t care for one, and no one dared give him one either. He’s tough. We have Snake, he’s the president—”

“And he’s cold-blooded?” she piped in excitedly.

“Yeah,” I said briefly and moved on. “We have Skippy—”

“Wait,” she interrupted. “He … uh … He skips a lot? Tight ropes? I don’t get it!”

I chuckled. “He puts peanut butter on everything.”

Her mouth dropped and remained open.

Picking up a piece of shrimp from my plate, I put it into her mouth.

She shut it closed and chewed thoughtfully. “Wow,” she mumbled. “Is that all that you remember?”

“For now,” I said, and continued with my meal. She would never realize that I had already said too much.

We ate quietly for a few more minutes as she processed her thoughts and then she returned with questions. “About Rose,” she began.

I narrowed my gaze at her just as my phone began to ring. I turned to retrieve it from beneath my pillow. It was Rooster. With a finger to my lips, I requested her silence, and listened to what Rooster had called to say.

“There’s trouble,” he said. “Tank and Shotgun attended a party last night and met some Death’s Hand members. They got into a fight.”

I let out a deep sigh and placed my meal on the nightstand. “And?”

“Shotgun got his skull smashed with a bottle and Tank got thrown off the second-floor balcony to a concrete floor. They’re both in the hospital right now. Tank’s got a broken arm and fractured leg, but the doctor says there’s hope, although he might not heal the same.”

“And Shotgun?”

“He’s in a coma.”

I cursed under my breath. “Where’s the meeting?”

“It’s at the house in ten minutes. We’re going to attack tonight.”

I killed the call.

“Everything all right?” she asked quietly.

I gave a little nod. Then I stood and headed over to the small closet by the bedroom window to retrieve a pair of dark jeans and a dark t-shirt, which I put on without a word. The fantasy was over. Real life had called and I had to go running like its little bitch. It was only when I turned around that I realized that she too, had politely gotten up and was taking the things off the bed.

“There’s a little problem in the club,” I explained, and we both stared at each other. I couldn’t say anymore.

I moved to pull out my bedside drawer and retrieved my handgun, confirmed its safety and tucked it behind me. After grabbing the other equipment that I needed from an inner compartment in the drawer, I turned and snatched up my jacket from the armchair by the corner. “The key is behind the door. Just lock it when you leave and keep it with you. I’ll come pick it up.”

Della nodded.

I could see her eyes had begun to fill with tears. I wanted to go to her. Hold her and tell her everything would be fine. There was nothing to worry about. We would be together forever. But I couldn’t.

What came out of my mouth sounded harsh, but it was for the best, “Don’t call me. I’ll call you.” Then I strolled out of the room. I had just pulled the front door open when I heard her quiet call from the bedroom door.

“Please be careful, Bone.”

Bone

I nodded in acknowledgement and went out of the apartment. Putting all thoughts of her behind me to focus on the urgency of the present, I immediately placed a call to Tyler. He didn’t pick up, and I couldn’t wait any longer so I got on the bike and was on my way. When I arrived in the basement of the clubhouse, the executive members of the club were already in deep discussion.

I listened without saying anything. By the time they were done, my soul sunk in horror. “We’re going to burn them alive?” I asked, keeping all expression out of my voice.

“Well, we’re not exactly doing that, are we?” Skippy replied. “We’re just burning their house down.”

“And barricading the exit, so no one will be able to run out,” I stated. “Doesn’t that sound like murder to you?”

“And is that a problem?” Snake asked, his pale eyes glittering like shards of ice.

I stared at him.

“Shotgun is in a bloody coma,” Snake stated in a cold voice. “Right from the onset, they have been the one to come directly at us even when we hadn’t retaliated from the way they treated RJ. You want our club to become a joke? We need to react. Show them we’re not pussies.”

“Why the objection?” Tyler asked. “This is not the first time we’ve taken care of someone before.”

“He’s began to wear skirts since he started dating sugar tits.”