Page 43 of Smoke the Enemy

“You don’t see it,” I call to Steffan’s back. My twin turns to give me his attention, the first clue that he isn’t completely oblivious. “There’s something there. I can feel it in my bones that he’s fucking up somehow. Like this new chick? How is she even close to Lee’s type, but he’s practically panting after her?”

“So he actually likes quiet girls like Bailee,” Steffan shrugs, “You, Lee, and I have all done a background check on her.”

“Something is still off. He could have anyone,” I say, grabbing for my pack of smokes and lighter. “Like Taylor’s roommate. Have you seen how she looks at Lee?”

Steffan grunts. “I don’t really care. Whoever Lee wants to dip his dick into is up to him. We crossed our Ts. It’s his tie, his decision. If you actually find something tangible, we’ll discuss later. Until then, Lee’s coming with us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I wave him off, and head to the patio door to relieve the tension in my shoulders. Spending half the night propped against a tree is no way to sleep. I had to make sure Taylor was safe, though. I don’t trust Van Doren. I definitely don’t trust Dupree, and if I’m really honest, I \don’t fucking trust my father.

Being away for almost a year really helped me put things in perspective. Steffan didn’t have that. He’s a true soldier of the Illicit to his core. The only way I can see him changing is when he has evidence. Or if anything were to happen to our little mouse. My fingers crack just thinking about someone or something hurting her. There’s too many variables at play, too many players still on the board. And some sick fuck who wants to threaten us is still running around. I’m ready to start eliminating everyone in our way, and I need Steffan to get on that track with me real fast. I tilt my head to the side, my neck cracking in relief. I’m ready to go. The faster we get the Brotherhood shit taken care of, the faster we can take care of Van Doren. We’ll keep getting rid of everyone until there are no threats to Taylor left.

The ride to the Fallen MC house takes longer than I would like. I forget that most motorcycle clubs choose the most vacant areas so they do their business in peace. Personally, I’ve never been fond of the Fallen. I think they’re more annoying than anything. Unfortunately, The Illicit has been doing business with this particular chapter since the beginning. The Brotherhood even has a hand in selecting their President, which is unheard of in any other club. I guess we can thank Alex Dupree’s grandfather for that too. Fucking Duprees. By the time we even arrive at the clubhouse, it’s almost dusk, the whole day is just about gone. I’m twitchy and I think I’ve looked in on Taylor more than a dozen times from my phone. Thankfully she likes reading and hasn’t left her room most of the day.

“Are you sure they said to meet them here?” Lee opens his window and Steffan slows the car down. The whole street is unusually quiet, the gate is closed and locked up. There is no music, no smell of gasoline and smoke, the usual Prospects aren’t walking the corners.

Steffan pulls out his cell phone, “Yeah, Zeus said tonight at five.” He flashes the phone at me.

“Call him.” I shrug, but not taking my eyes off the dark building towering over us. Steffan hits the call button, and we listen in the silence of the car as the phone continues to ring. I glance out of Lee’s window and look everywhere from the floor to the gates, when something dark like a spot oil catches my eye. “Wait.”

I get out of the backseat and jog across to the gates. Steffan and Lee are at my heels. I crouch down, completelyfocused on the little spatter. Without thinking, I reach out with my fingers and touch the liquid. I rub my thumb against my fingers and watch as the dark pigment shifts to bright red. “It’s blood.”

“What?” Steffan drops down to look, while Lee reaches for his gun holstered at his back. Steffan repeats my actions and glances at me. I raise my brow and his jaw hardens. “We have to go in.”

“What? You aren’t going to call father first?” I pry and he glares.

“Shut the fuck up. We’re going in.” Steffan also grabs his gun from his shoulder holster, and I pull out my knife. I use the pointed end to pry the gate open. Between me and Steffan pushing, we’re able to open it enough to squeeze through.

Inside the compound is even more haunting than the outside. No one is around. A thin sheen of dust hangs in the air. Rows of bikes sit vacant. It doesn’t make sense. Bikers are notorious for not leaving the bikes unattended. There are no lights on inside either. The windows are darkened. I step up to the main door, ready to knock but think better of it. With my jacket sleeve I twist the door handle, not wanting to leave fingerprints at this obvious crime scene, and it gives. This is not good.

The minute the door cracks, the scent of copper and death hits my nose. I hold my breath and glance at Steffan, who already has a pinched look to his face. We grab for our skull bandanas and wrap them around our faces. Lee holds his shirt over his nose and mouth. Signaling with my hands, I motion for us to go in, and I prepare my mind for what we’re going to find. I may not be fond of the Fallen, but there are often women and children here too.

I tap the door with my shoe, and it swings open with a groan. The bodies are piled up. Some against the bar, some on the pool table, and some just leaning against the wall. Men and women. I shine my flashlight and scan the bodies, thankful not to see any children. Blood coats the walls, the floors, and the ceiling. “What do we do?” I murmur.

Steffan steps around me and walks over to a few of the bodies. “Gunshot wounds.”

“Of course,” I scoff, “Who would come in here single-handedly and knife a bunch of bikers? They had to have the element of surprise.”

“Did you hear that?” Lee asks and moves farther into the room. I want to call out to him about tracking footprints, but Steffan follows him. In the back of the clubhouse a lone body lies on the ground. It’s a man, big and burly and someone we recognize.

“Zeus?” Steffan leans down right as Zeus’s eyes pop open. The man is clinging to life, trying to form words, but all that does is cause blood to squirt from his neck. His eyes bulge.

“Don’t try to talk,” I tell him, my eyes taking in every detail. Red angel wings, painted in blood, fan out from his shoulders. A bloody circle is drawn over his head, supposedly representing a halo. Zeus’ skin is laying in strips against the drawn design. All of it enough to hurt and immobilize him, along with the gunshots, but only a little bit to not completely kill him. He was meant to be alive for us.

“Heeeee,” he keeps trying. “Rrreee.”

“I can’t hear what he’s saying.” Steffan bends closer.

My head tilts, watching Zeus’s lips, “dddd.”

“Red?” I say and glancing around. It sure as fuck is red in here.

Zeus struggles before a faraway look turns his eyes glossy. Eventually his breathing staggers and shudders in his chest before he stops moving completely. Lee and Steffan share a look, but we all know what it means. He’s dead. Someone killed the entire Alabama Fallen MC chapter, and left their President as a signal for us. “Angel Maker.”

“This is fucked,” Lee whispers.

“Whoever this is might not be related to the Campus Killer,” Steffan reminds us while he looks for a way out. We follow him out the back doors and into the night air. I take down my mask and take in deep breaths not tinged by death and close my eyes.

“Whoever did this meant for us to find him,” I tell my twin, “He was kept alive, but we were almost too late. Just like the bodyguard in the snow, the nurse…it’s the same person.”

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