Page 96 of Suspicious

Hayes grins cockily, waggling his brows. “Anyone told you guys you talk too much? Let’s get going…shall we?”Hayes turns to start walking toward the helicopter, his stride full of confidence. A cocky swagger, even if his hands are tied behind him.

Alpha glances at me, giving me a simple nod as he spins, jogging after Hayes while they make their way toward the helicopter. My heart races fast in my chest, my stomach swirling with the adrenaline surging through my veins as I turn to face Wes. His face is hard and stern, with clear anger rushing through his system, watching his prospect partner striding away from us like he is the king of the world.

Hayes suddenly spins back, a laugh escaping him, his eyes on me. “You should try harder to treat people the way you want to be treated, Loki. You never know, then maybe you mightactuallywin a fight one of these days,” he calls out, dipping his chin, then turns back toward the helicopter, giddy in his freedom.

A slow smile crosses my face, and I feel Wes’ eyes on me, desperate for me to give the signal. But I can’t help myself. Ihave to have the last word. “If you’re using that logic, Hayes, then I treated you just fine. Because I’m about to winthisfucking fight.” Lifting my finger, I aim it forward, giving the signal to Wes as Hayes halts his movements to turn around and ask what the hell I’m talking about.

But it’s too late.

Bang.

Wes takes the shot, the bullet zooming through the air, blasting straight into Hayes’ kneecap as he turns. The asshole goes down like the sack of shit he is, slamming straight into the dirt beneath him. He lets out an obnoxious wail as he rolls around in the dirt, the blood pouring out as we take off as a club, rushing toward him. Alpha, who is trying to fight back his laugh, leans down to remove the rope ties around Hayes’ wrists.

Hayes glances up at Alpha, his eyes almost begging. “Alpha, please, get me out of here. They’re going against your orders. Surely you can get me out and then come back and punish them for this…right?”he pleads.

Alpha smirks, giving him a swift kick in the ribs for good measure. “Youhonestlythought I’d let you leave Los Angeles and never come back? Youreallydidn’t pay attention to anything during your time as a prospect,did you?”Alpha snorts out through his fit of laughter. “Come get him, boys.”

“You’re allfucking crazy!”Hayes yells, still rolling in pain, blood pooling from his knee.

I step up to his side and shrug. “Only when the need arises or when someone pushes us to it. And you, Hayes, you’ve pushed us all off the motherfucking edge.”

He stops rolling around, his eyes focused on me, and I see it. The second it registers in his mind that heisn’tgetting out of this like he thought he was.

That we fucked with him.

Let him think he was walking away.

The fact is, heislosing his life here tonight, in this field.

His breathing kicks back in, and he tries frantically to stand, his knee giving out, but his other leg keeps him upright as he starts scurrying away from us.

Like that’s going to get him far.

We all shake our heads as he rushes, but we all walk at a normal pace, catching up to him fast. Rip is the first to capture him, pulling Hayes around by his shirt, gripping it in his hands, and forcing him to look Rip in the eyes. “You know, dude. You were a fucking dead weight on the farm and helping out with Sadie and the greenhouse. Doughnut was totally more helpful than you ever were, and that’s saying something cause he’s a freaking goat. And goats aren’t good at anything. So, youreallysuck.”

Hayes frowns at Rip, letting out a huff. “At least I’m not some stoner, wannabe surferpretendingto be a biker. Fucking pick a lane and stay in it, asshole.”

Rip curls up his lip, anger crossing his face. “There’s no pretending here. You’re the one who’s clucked. You want to see me as a biker? You got it. This is gonna be totally gnarly, dude!” he chimes, pulls back his fist, then slams it into Hayes’ jaw with enough force that he drops down onto his bad knee. He lets out a loud yelp. The pain rushes through him, causing his entire body to collapse.

Rip doesn’t stop, though, reaching for his gun, drawing it out, and pressing it directly down onto Hayes’ crotch. Hayes tries to fight Rip off, but Rip simply chuckles, pressing his boot down onto Hayes’ torso to keep him still. “You think I can’t bebikerenough? Doesthisfeel biker to you, Hayes?” Rip asks, pulling the trigger, the gun exploding on top of his cock and balls. There’s no telling which was hit, probably all.

Hayes screams in agony, blood pooling beneath him as he rocks back and forth on the ground.

Rip steps back with a slight chuckle. “And you know what, Hayes? In the morning, my stoner ass is gonna go for one kickass, gnarly as hell surf to wash your blood from my feet, youfucking piece of shit,”he mumbles the last part, stepping aside and wiping his brow with his forearm.

I grin at him with a nod. He lets out a small chuckle while Maverick, Montana, Strings, and Ink take off for the bushes to prepare.

Alpha and I stand at the back, arms folded, as we watch the rest of the club step up to Hayes, taking out their frustrations on him in their own personal ways while his screams echo through the clearing.

My own personal symphony of vengeance and justice for Bea.

With Hayes beginning to weaken from the copious amounts of beatings and stab wounds he is receiving, I know we need to hurry this along. The last thing we want is for him to die before the grand finale I have planned for him.

But as if the heavens were listening to my silent prayers, the thunderous roar of four Harleys make their way into the clearing. Montana, Maverick, Ink, and Strings hurling toward us at a fast rate, and Alpha and I smile while the four of them duckwalk their bikes toward Hayes in opposite directions.

Alpha and I move to the front of the group, shifting everyone out of the way. “Okay, enough! Wes. Roll him on his back,” I demand.

Wes steps up and with his boot, kicks Hayes over. He flops onto his back, blood oozes from everywhere, his face a swollen bloody mess as he coughs, trying to keep breathing. “W-Wes, h… help me,” he stutters, his hand slowly raising, trying to clutch at Wes’ cut.

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