Page 46 of The Devil's Ice

Bones Gallagher walked into the clubhouse, his every nerve jangling wildly. Something was wrong – very,verywrong – and he didn’t need to know exactlywhatit was to know that it was true. His gut instincts had served him for his thirty-eight years in MC life, and they’d ensured that he was about to celebrate his sixtieth (and probably last) year on earth. So if they were screaming at him now, he was going to listen hard.

He looked around the bar, clocking everyone who was there, but far more interested in whowasn’t. Bullet and Mad Dog hadn’t been seen or heard from in two days, and they weren’t here now. Oh, sure, Preacher and Animal had told everyone that the men had been sent back to Denver to finish what Eyeball and Cruiser had so thoroughly fucked up – but Bones had his doubts about that story.Seriousones.

First, he didn’t believe that Viper would send anyone back to the scene of such a massive clusterfuck so soon. The Road Devils would be on ultra-high-alert right now, and they’d have hidden away their kids and women so completely, they might as well be on another planet. Not many vulnerabilities left at this point, so there was no reason for any of The Hellions to even cross the state line, let alone dare to show their faces in Denver and risk the wrath of Scars Innis and Ice Johansson.

Second, Bullet and Mad Dog hadn’t said anything to Bones about going, and seeing as the three of them were kind of an unofficial Three Musketeers – just because of the sheer number of years they’d spent together as the longest-serving MC members – he didn’t believe they’d leave Utah without a word. Even if Viper had ordered them to stay quiet about it, and had insisted that they treat it like a huge secret, Bullet and Mad Dog would definitely have dropped Bones a subtle hint. The three of them had operated that way together for twenty-five years, as an added layer of protection, and they wouldn’t change their MO now. Not unless they wereforcedto change it… and what would force Bullet and Mad Dog to act that much out of character?

Nothing good. Nothing good at all.

He caught Sheila’s eye now, gave her a cursory nod, and was a bit surprised to see her flicking her green eyes towards the back rooms. Like him, she’d been around the life for years – almost twenty in her case. She’d been married to Whip Radley, and when he’d been killed in a drug deal gone wrong during Crusher Alcott’s reign of terror, she’d been permitted to stick around the club as a waitress. She wasn’t an old lady anymore, but she was loyal to Whip, through and through. Bones knew for a fact that she didn’t evenlookat other men, barely even made eye contact… but her gaze was frantic and signalling something to him now.

Thatwas when he knew.

He gave a tiny nod, watched her hurry to the back of the club with an empty tray. He waited a few minutes, got a beer despite really not wanting it, made conversation with a few of the boys who’d been in the MC before Viper had brought in so many changes, and all these new men. Then he got up, like nothing was happening at all, like his whole body wasn’t almost collapsing with grief at what had surely happened to his oldest friends, at what was happening to his beloved club, and he wandered down to the pool room.

Bones had just taken down the cue when Sheila slipped in, quiet as a shadow. She had a few empty glasses on her tray now, and she made a big show of picking up some overflowing ashtrays, barely glancing at Bones as she did. When she passed him to get to the tables in the far corner, she whispered:

“They’re dead. You’re next. Run.”

Bones didn’t respond, didn’t ask how she knew or who she’d heard talking, didn’t even raise an eyebrow. He simply rolled the rack back and forth a few times across the table, then hung it up on the wall next to Sheila.

“Thanks, hon,” he breathed. “Go now.”

She nodded, then walked out of the room again, back down to the bar. Bones stayed right where he was, calmly lined up his shot, broke the balls in the middle of the table. Absently, he watched as the nine ball shot into the corner pocket, making it a golden break. Normally, that’d be a damn lucky way to start a game of pool, but lucky was thelastfucking thing that Bones felt.

His days were numbered now, probably he was down to his last few hours. The only reason he was still breathing was because of his position in the MC, he knew that for sure. It would be hard to explain his sudden absence, since he wasn’t sent on jobs outside the state anymore, so whatever it was heading his way, it would have to look like an accident. Idly, he wondered what diabolical end Viper had planned for him – Bones was absolutely sure that it was going to be brutal and effective.

The visit to the doctor that morning had just confirmed what he already knew, which was that he would see his sixtieth birthday in a month, but he definitely wouldn’t see his sixty-first. Since the cancer was going to eat him up anyway – and it would be drawn out and painful – a part of him was open to Viper finishing him off, except that Bones was sure that his Prez’s methods would be just as drawn out and painful, and also with zero dignity or respect, and Bones didn’t wantthat. He may have no control over the disease ravaging his body, but hedidstill have the final decision over his own life and death.

As long as Viper didn’t get to him first.

Keeping his eyes on the table, keeping his breath controlled and shallow, he played two solo games, barely missed a single shot. And the whole time, all he could think of was theoneman who could help him now, theonlyperson who would be open to an alliance with a fucking Highway Hellion, assuming that Hellion was able to be useful to him inonevery specific way:

I somehow need to get to that motherfucker Scars Innis.

Hell has really and truly frozen over.

Chapter Seventeen

It was late morning when Vixen woke up to a glorious smell and an even better sight: Ice Johansson walking into her bedroom, clad only in boxer shorts, carrying a tray with a pot of fragrant coffee and a buttery croissant. She blinked, astonished all over again at just how damnsexythe man was, and that he was here in her home. Withher. Smashed up body and scarred face and all.

She’d never been one to believe in miracles – but now she’d experiencedtwo. Breaking her neck and not being paralyzed, and Ice wandering into her bedroom bare-chested, bearing coffee. Vixen wasn’t surewhichone felt more like divine intervention… then she saw those ice-cold eyes gazing at her with such warmth and respect, and she knew the answer to that.

Him. Definitely him.

“Well, hey there,” he said. “You sleep OK?”

She longed to do a full-body stretch, but knew that she was still too freaked out about her neck to do that. Instead, she pointed and flexed her toes, felt the pleasant tug work up her legs. Her ankle felt much better today, and so she decided to be totally grateful for that.

Andfor the half-naked hot guy in her bedroom.

“I slept like I got hit by a rock,” she said. “How long was I out?”

“A good sixteen hours.” Ice carefully set the tray on the mattress next to her. “You needed it.”

“Agreed.”

“OK, so.” Ice cocked his blond head at her. “I brought you coffee, ‘cause I’ve seen you drink it at Satan’s, but I have no clue what you take in it.”

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