Page 80 of Zeke

I wait until the truck is gone and I can no longer hear the rumble of bike engines before I turn back around and head into the cabin. Brawler tries to follow, but I hold up a hand to tell him to stay put and let me go in alone.

As I walk in the door, I see that Steve has moved. He’s crawling across the floor of the cabin, his back to me, so he doesn’t see me enter. He’s breathing heavily through the pain of dragging his destroyed leg behind him as he reaches for the phone. His fingers are mere inches away when I walk over and pick it up, yanking the line out of the wall.

“No…” he whines, his arm still reaching for the empty space where his salvation had been.

I sit down in the chair he’d been in when Zeke burst in and I watch him for a few minutes.

“I don’t know your story,” I say after a while. “I don’t know a damn thing about you except for one thing. You came after someone my family claims as our own and put them in danger. You hurt one of my crew by hitting her in the head with a gun. And you wasted my club’s time and resources by making us come find you and deal with you.”

“Fine,” he says, sobbing pathetically. “Call the police. I don’t care. She’s gone and I’ll never get her back now.”

“No,” I say, standing up again, my feet right in front of his head. “You won’t. Because she’s under my protection. My family’s protection. My club’s protection. She is out of your reach now and forever. Not that any of that will matter for you.”

“Why?” he whimpers, looking up at me through puffy eyes.

“Because you fucked with the wrong family,” I tell him, my face and voice deadly serious. “And people who come after me and mine don’t get a second chance.”

“What—”

He never gets the chance to finish. I remove my gun from its holster and pull the trigger, putting a bullet in his brain, then another for good measure. No sense in doing the same job twice because of laziness or incomplete action.

I stand still for several minutes, watching the pool of blood beneath him grow until I know there is no way in hell he could have survived. I kick over the body and look at the glassy, staring eyes.

Good. One more problem down.

I look around the little cabin for any clues or evidence about anything else I might need to tell Charge about Kira, but I don’t see anything that isn’t a remnant of an outdated, filthy hunting cabin. But there is one thing that might come in handy.

I walk back outside where Brawler leans against his bike, waiting for me.

“He taken care of, boss?” he asks, knowing full well the answer.

“Not yet,” I say. I hold up the bottle of cheap vodka and the piece of cloth used for the chloroform I took from inside. I hand them to him, and he looks at me expectantly. He knows what I’m about to tell him, but he wants to hear it from my mouth rather than make an assumption, even if it would be a correct one.

“Burn it to the ground,” I tell him. Then I watch as he lights the Molotov cocktail and throws it at the wooden building, which catches fire immediately and begins to burn.

I turn my back on the smoke and flames as Brawler climbs onto his bike. I get on behind him so he can take me back to my bike before I say, “Let’s go home.”

And he doesn’t wait a second before obeying the order.

CHAPTERFORTY

Zeke

Ipace the living room impatiently, watching as Charge continues to check on Kira.

“Didn’t you already do that?” I demand as he takes her pulse again.

Charge levels a look of annoyance at me. “Of course, I did. But it’s a funny thing; heartrates change. I’m keeping an eye on whether it’s steady or if there are variations that might lead to her needing to go to the hospital.”

The idea of her having to go to the hospital because of what that guy did to her is enough to make me violent with rage, but I see Kira’s weary eye watching me. I need to be better for her right now. I need to make sure she’s taken care of—actually taken care of, and not just by my own standards—which probably aren’t right since I don’t know a thing about medicine outside of putting on a Band-Aid and taking Tylenol for a headache.

It feels like hours, even though it’s only a few minutes before Charge finally says she’s okay to not go to the hospital and lets me take her up to bed. Eli called her dad the second we got back, and he is already on his way, but we have a few minutes. I just want to be alone with her. To hold her and really feel that she’s safe, since I had no idea if that would be the case when I found her.

We get up to my room, with her clinging to my neck for support, and I set her on the bed. I arrange pillows and blankets to be as comfortable for her as possible, then I stand awkwardly for a moment before sitting down at her side and pulling her tightly against me. Holding her like someone is going to come snatch her right from my very arms.

She says something, but it’s muffled by my shoulder. As much as I want to care about what she has to say, I’m so glad to have her back that I know any conversation can wait.

Eventually, she relaxes and sinks into my arms, hers snaking around my back to hold herself even more tightly to me.

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