“Get to it, Ford.”

“This all started with a misunderstanding.”

“How so?”

“It turns out that Caralee’s buddy Rod the Rebel tried to pass off some fake fucking drugs on the Snakes. That was why they killed him.”

Larkin grunted. “So it wasn’t just some random hit like Jetter was pretending.”

“Not at all. Problem is, the Snakes think the real drugs are out there, and that it’s their fucking stuff.”

“Why? No harm, no foul. Rod got popped. That’s the end of it.”

“Who knows? Maybe the Rebels were just intermediaries or some shit. Might explain their relationship with the Mezcals.”

“Which you haven’t proven yet,” Larkin reminded me.

“Sure. But the point is, when we took in Caralee, we made it seem like we were a part of it. They think she has the drugs, or we do.”

“Shit,” Larkin said, shaking his head. “A misunderstanding.”

“But now we have blood spilled.”

“They’re not going to forgive that.”

“No,” I said, “they’re not.”

“So no matter what, it’s still war.”

“At least we know the Snakes and the Rebels aren’t working together.”

Larkin laughed ruefully. “Yeah, there’s that.”

I stood up. “What’s the next move?” I asked.

“Hold tight for now,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”

I nodded. “Got it, prez.”

I pushed open the door and left.

The main clubhouse room was mostly empty. Clutch and Spoil were dealing with the dead Snake in the basement. I sat down at the bar and grabbed a whisky. Thade was into his fourth or fifth beer, sipping slowly.

“I always feel this way after a job like that, you know?” he said to me.

“Yeah,” I grunted, “I know.”

It was a strange feeling, a mixture of excitement and terror, pleasure and pain.

Something like how I felt when I was around Caralee.

The damn girl. She had no clue how deep into this she was, no clue at all. I thought the Snakes might have been after her because she’d witnessed a murder, but it was much worse than that. They thought she’d stolen from them, and that was something no club could ever forgive.

I had to somehow prove that she hadn’t stolen the drugs. How I could do that, well, I had no clue.

But I knew I had to try. Because Caralee was my fucking wife now. I had made a pledge to protect her, and I thought that pledge would be enough.

I was beginning to realize that there was more going on than I had bargained for. Marrying Caralee and bringing her into the Demons’ realm of protection just wasn’t going to cut it anymore, not with the Snakes pushing for real war.

I had to step my game up.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Caralee

A few hours sitting around in the cabin were more than enough to make me mad as hell.

I wasn’t a damn prisoner, and those two idiots couldn’t keep me locked up.

Worst of all, where was Ford? He could call me at any time, and yet he wasn’t bothering to. And to top it all off, I was his wife now, his old lady. Our first day married and he had already run off to someplace doing whatever the damn club wanted him to do.

I was fuming, so angry. I felt like an animal locked in a cage. Some part of me understood that it was for my own protection, but I wasn’t a little girl that needed protecting.

And so sitting there on the couch, I slowly began to formulate an escape plan.

My best chance was to somehow steal one of those motorcycles. I knew they tended to leave their keys right in the ignition since they were sitting right in front of them. When I used to hang out with Rod, he had tried to teach me how to ride once. Sure, it wasn’t exactly successful, but I’d gotten the basics down. I could go straight without destroying anything.

Shifting gears, well, that might still be an issue.

Still, it was my best bet. Those pledges weren’t going to let me just walk out there and take a bike, though. I needed a plan.

I needed a distraction.

I got up and dressed, putting on pair of jeans, a pair of heavy boots, and a black T-shirt. If I was going to do something stupid, then I might as well look the part.

Next, I went into the bathroom. It had a window that overlooked the wooded area just behind Ford’s cabin.

And I started to scream.

It didn’t take long for the two pledges to come bursting inside, guns drawn.

“Out there!” I shouted, pointing at the window.

“What’s happening?” Ryan asked.

“Two guys, both in leather jackets. They’re just out back!”

Ryan nodded. “Stay here with her. I’ll go.”

He quickly disappeared back out the front door.

“Come on,” Spill said, leading me into the living room. He kept his gun drawn and ready. “What did they look like?” he asked.

“Tall,” I said, frowning, my heart pounding.

Was I really going to do this?

Tags: B.B. Hamel Dark
Source: readsnovelonline.net