The Vice President Read online

  Deep breaths. Hunt’s voice flows through my head the way he would tell me to calm down so my stomach stops acting up. Puking is something I don’t need right now. Not if I need to stay in the car. Dog is standing watch in front of the door. I guess they want an extra barrier between me and the enemy besides the bulletproof SUV. Or maybe it’s all for show. Hell, I have no clue. All I know is how fear is running through my body.

  On one side, I want this to be over with, but on the other side, I’m too afraid of what’s to come. I know this is the moment Stone will have to take out our father. It sounds so simple, and yet it’s not. This isn’t supposed to go down like this—a son having no other option. But even as little kids we weren’t blind and knew damn well a father shouldn’t treat his kids or his wife the way he did. So, I have peace with this decision and know it’s inevitable.

  Stone, my father, and two of the cartel people meet in the middle with Hunt and Alaric. No one is holding onto their weapons, but it’s clear everyone is carrying. There’s one guy standing to the side. He’s one of the cartel guys by the looks of it. He’s playing with a knife, flipping it in the air and letting it tumble before catching the hilt. To be honest, it gives me the chills.

  One moment I watch how they’re talking, and the next, Dog’s head whips back against the window of the SUV, showing a shiny metal point in the back of his head before he sags to his knees and slides to the ground. I lean forward to see Dog’s body; there’s a knife lodged in his head.

  I frantically try to find Hunt in the mass of people, but it’s difficult with all those moving bodies. They’re all fighting, using their fists and knives. One of my father’s guys aims his gun at one of Hunt’s brothers.

  Oh. My. God. No. Hunt steps to the side, and his shoulder swings back from the bullet impact before Hunt shoots the man in the head. Beside Hunt is my brother, and when I take my eyes off Hunt for one breath, I witness my brother’s arm swing up to jam a knife underneath our father’s chin.

  My eyes slide back to where Hunt was standing but I don’t see him. The door to the SUV opens and I feel someone roughly grab my upper arm and pull me out. He’s dressed in all black clothes, and while I’m screaming for him to let me go and clawing, hitting, and kicking, there’s nothing to be done as he drags me off.

  I glance over my shoulder to where the large group of people are still fighting. There are a lot of guys on the ground. Blood. Gunshots. Death. Such a turmoil, but I can’t process or search for my brother, Hunt, or Alaric because I’m roughly shoved into the back of a van. The door slides shut, and it drives off immediately, making me stumble back and hit my head on the door.

  By the time I’ve scrambled up and try to find a way out, the van stops and the door slides open. A man is standing there, along with a few others all wearing black with big fat letters DEA stated on their clothes.

  “Miss Cliners, are you okay?” the man asks.

  I rub my head where I smacked into the door. “I don’t want to answer your question right now, so ask me later when I’m sure my brother and friends are still alive and well. And it would be nice to introduce yourself before dragging me off as if you’re kidnapping me. Oh, wait, you did kidnap me,” I tell the asshole who’s getting out of the van and pulling the black mask from his face.

  The guy doesn’t even give me a glance before strolling toward some kind of tent where three others are yelling, pointing, and whatever.

  “Miss, we needed to get you out of there quickly because everything was escalating. I’m Special Agent Gabriel Barnells.”

  “The contact person?” I whisper so only he can hear me.

  All I get is a tight nod. “The only request we agreed upon was to make sure to pull you out if things went south.”

  Damn those guys. Why didn’t they think about themselves?

  “Why aren’t you helping them?” I squeak.

  Because when I look around, I see a lot of people, but I remember very vividly seeing no black-clothed people with the big fat letters DEA plastered over them pulling the fighting men apart.

  “We have orders,” Gabriel simply says.

  “You have orders?” I can’t believe he said that. “I need to go back. Take me back right now,” I demand and glance around me again, trying to focus on where the hell I am and how to get back.

  Gabriel touches his ear and leans into the guy next to him, who in return dashes off and starts to bellow out orders.

  “Sorry, miss,” Gabriel says. “I need for you to get back into the van. One of my men will take you home.”

  Take me home? I’m trying to find words, but Gabriel is already gone, and the guy who shoved me into the van the first time is back in my face. I have no other choice but to do as he says. Instead of letting the guy take me home, I order him to drive me to the clubhouse. As soon as the van stops, I jump out and slam the door shut behind me. The van speeds off as Angie comes running out of the clubhouse.

  “What happened? Are you okay? Who was that?” She fires question after question.

  I want to give her an answer, but my mouth is dry and I can’t seem to find any words. Her arm slides around my shoulders, and she guides me back to the clubhouse. It’s as if I’m moving on autopilot as I take the glass of water she offers me.

  My eyes finally find hers, but the tears are making my vision blurry. “They all started killing each other. I can’t…. I don’t know. I….” A sob rips from my throat, and Angie throws her arms around me.

  She gently rocks me back and forth until she asks, “And you don’t know who brought you home?”

  I clear my throat. “I stayed in the car like they told me to. Dog was standing watch. One of the cartel he—” I swallow hard and rush out my words. “He killed Dog. I was staring at what was going on, trying to process, and then suddenly the door on the other side opened and someone pulled me out of the SUV and pushed me into an awaiting van. We drove for a few minutes, and then there were all these DEA agents doing nothing. They did nothing, Angie, nothing. What if they’re all dead? Oh, God. Dog had a knife in his head. A knife, Angie. No. Dammit, I remember. Hunt. Someone shot Hunt in the shoulder.”

  Angie flashes up and grabs her phone. “Do you know a name? Anything?”

  “Gabriel Barnells, that’s the name of the DEA contact. He mentioned something about a promise to pull me out when things went south, but, Angie, they didn’t do anything other than pull me out. They were all killing each other, and the DEA did nothing.”

  Angie taps her phone and holds it against her ear. “Bruno? Can you please call and find out if Alaric is okay? Your contact made sure Peyton was safe, but they did nothing else. Okay. Yes. Okay, I will. Thanks.” She hangs up and sags onto the couch next to me.

  “What did Bruno say?”

  Angie stares at me without answering. Minutes tick by until finally her phone starts to ring. She picks up and listens and then abruptly says goodbye and hangs up. Angie throws her arms around me and hugs me tight.

  “They’re okay. Alaric and Hunt are okay. In jail, but okay,” she says between sobs.

  My mind is spinning. Though I’m happy to hear they are okay, I still need to know more. “Hunt was shot. I saw him get shot in the shoulder. He’s in jail? Is he going to be okay, and how long will they be in there? What about Stone? What about all the others? Dammit, are those cartel guys all taken care of? We need to know more details, Angie. We could still be in danger. Raven could be in danger, and Harper. Me. You. All of us.”

  “Shit,” Angie mutters.

  “What are we going to do? Should we head to the police station? What did Bruno mean they are in jail?” My stomach lurches, and I dash up to rush to the toilet just in time to puke my guts out.

  Nothing is good about any of this, and our only hope is to wait until we know more? Freaking out isn’t doing me any good either with the way my stomach is acting up. I need to breathe. I long to hear Hunt’s voice telling me I need to breathe. I need him. I love him. Dammit. I love him, and I didn’t
even get to tell him.

  C H A P T E R T H I R T E E N

  ~ H U N T ~

  “Finally,” I grumble and take a deep breath of fresh air into my lungs.

  Alaric chuckles from my left. “It’s only been a few days, Hunt. You know it was needed.”

  “What the fuck? It was needed? That DEA asshole left us there to rot for ten whole days because the paperwork needed to be done. Paperwork to show we had shit to do with taking out Alejandro and almost the whole chapter of Trigger Pull MC. And do I need to tell you Alejandro isn’t one of the dead bodies they recovered? That asshole is in the wind. For all we know he headed to his cartel friends who casted him out but might welcome him back.”

  Anger flares in Alaric’s eyes, the same kind I have running through my veins, so I continue. “We don’t fucking know. But I do remember very vividly he was pissed off we brought the wrong sister. Are you going to share this little piece of information with Linc? He’ll go on a manhunt and won’t stop until he’s found and skinned Alejandro with his own bare bands.”

  It’s the only thing keeping me on edge all those ten days. Not the fact my shoulder hurts like fuck from the bullet that slammed into it. Not the fact all of us almost died there, and some of us in fact did. We lost Dog and Brewer, and three others are barely hanging on in the hospital. And we’re considered to be the lucky ones.

  Fucking lucky the DEA finally decided to swoop in. Right when we needed them. But I guess that’s all in the past. Those who survived were all thrown behind bars. Rebel Rage MC bikers were all cut loose today. The few cartel assholes who are still breathing aren’t going to see the light of day ever again. Prison time is all they will get for the rest of their lives.

  Trigger Pull MC? I heard only Stone and two of his buddies walked out of jail just a few hours before we did. I’m guessing he’s leaving Nevada to head over to his grandfather. As he should because nothing is left for him here. Well, except his sisters, but he’s always welcome to visit, though his task is to step up and take the president patch. He damn well earned it.

  Stone stood up for what’s right and killed his president—his own damn father—and one of his own brothers to lead his club in the right direction again. Stone also saved my life, as the brother he killed was aiming a gun at my head that the time.

  “There’s nothing to tell me. I already know,” Linc grumbles from my right. “I assume you didn’t see me having your back out there while you were trying to move your fat ass to fight off those fucking pussies?”

  “Shit,” Alaric grumbles. “Forgot Linc is a sneaky sonofabitch.”

  “You’re gonna go try and find him yourself?” I question.

  “I can’t leave her.” Linc shakes his head. “You heard the fucker yourself; he’s obsessed. If he’s alive, he’s going to come for her. I’ve left her for ten damn days already; I can’t stay away any longer.”

  “That could take a while. Him coming after her I mean, ’cause Alejandro is not a complete idiot. The DEA has been a prominent asset, keeping an eye on the clubhouse. they even escorted Peyton to bring Raven back to the clubhouse, so they’re all in one place. They might have stayed out of it before, but those DEA fuckers are all over this shit now,” Alaric says and points to the left. “Our ride.”

  Two vans drive up. Angie is in the first one, and some of my brothers hop in. I jog to the one parking behind it because Peyton is driving that one. She jumps out and into my arms.

  “I fucking missed you,” I mutter against the skin of her neck while I breathe her in.

  I feel tiny arms circle my leg. When I glance down, I see Raven is hugging the both of us. Bending down, I scoop her up and pull her close.

  “Missed you too, baby girl,” I croak.

  “I missed you so much, Daddy. But Peyton was really sweet. She learned me how to bake muffins, and we watched cartoons alllll day.”

  “All day, huh?” I chuckle, my eyes meeting my old lady’s whose are spilling over with tears.

  “Well, maybe not all day because she needs to use the bathroom a lot. To pee or puke. Puking is gross, and I’m really worried she’s sick, Daddy. But she won’t let me take her to see a doctor. We have to, right? You made me go when I was puking a lot.”

  Peyton’s eyes go wide, and she slightly shakes her head, knowing what I’m about to tell Raven. My daughter has a right to know, even more because she’s worried about Peyton while she shouldn’t have to be.

  I don’t care where I’m standing or the fact we haven’t talked about it, but I’m not wasting time. Not with the shit I went through days ago. Your next breath could be your last in any situation. Right now is where I stand, and I’m embracing life as it comes to me.

  “She doesn’t need to go to see a doctor because we know what’s up with her body, Raven.” My daughter’s eyebrows scrunch down at my statement. “Your little brother or sister is growing inside her belly,” I tell her and watch how her eyes go wide when she understands what I just told her.

  Her tiny head swings to Peyton. “I’m going to be a big sister? You’re… you’re going to be a mommy? And Daddy is going to be a daddy again. No, wait, he’s a daddy already. We’re gonna share a daddy. Siblings share. My friend Sara says she shares her toys with her little brother. I can share too, and my little sister or brother needs to share too, right?”

  Fuck.

  This is probably the reason why couples talk shit through before telling kids. How fucking stupid am I? This baby will have a mother and a father while Raven’s mother left her.

  Peyton leans into our space and tilts her head as she addresses Raven. “You’re right, Raven. Family shares everything. You’re going to be such an amazing big sister. One who will get to think of a road name for the baby. He or she is going to need one, right?”

  Raven’s eyes perk up but turn serious the next instant. “Do I have to share everything?”

  Peyton looks at me for an answer. I shrug. “I guess we can deal with whatever it is when the time comes. It’s a bit hard to say when we don’t know what you guys want to share or not.”

  “I want to share the baby’s mommy. I want Peyton to be my mommy too,” Raven blurts, and her eyes bounce between me and Peyton.

  My throat is all clogged up, and Peyton’s eyes are spilling over when she says, “You don’t have to share me, silly. You already have me. I’m right here and not going anywhere. I told you that when I picked you up all those days ago, remember?”

  “Yes, but that was before I knew there was a baby in your belly. And how are you going to get it out?” Raven’s eyes go huge. “Oh. Gross. Puking? That’s never going to fit.”

  “I think it’s time to get in the car and save this discussion for another day,” I tell them and lift Raven into the back seat of the van.

  I close the door and come face-to-face with Peyton. “You’re in so much trouble throwing it at her like you did. She’s going to have so many questions and has the whole car ride to think them up, and we’ll need to answer every single one of them when we get back to the clubhouse. All while I had Angie promise she’d look after Raven for ten whole minutes so I could have you to myself before we enjoy the day together. And I know how selfish that sounds, but you could have died. I saw you get shot. I saw Dog…” Peyton swallows hard before her rant continues. “I just wanted to kiss you and feel you naked against me for all those ten minutes. Selfish, but I need it.”

  I’m chewing the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing. “You’ll have it. But I do have to say, ten minutes won’t cut it, babe. And our girl will be asleep tonight in another room. This gives us the whole damn night to enjoy each other. And, fuck, the rest of our lives because I don’t intend to let anything interfere with our future again.”

  “Promises, promises.” Peyton waves her hand in the air as she gets into the front seat.

  I get my ass in the van too, along with some of my other brothers who were all silently watching us. The van is quiet for the whole ride back to the clubh
ouse, and I do realize what Peyton said is true. I can see the wheels turning inside Raven’s head, thinking up all the questions she’s going to bombard us with.

  When we finally arrive at the clubhouse, Linc is the one who takes off as if struck by lightning. I’m sure he’s heading for Harper, who he hasn’t seen for ten days. Worry strikes me hard because Harper doesn’t allow anyone to come close. Did she eat anything at all those ten days we were locked up? I know Linc kept her kitchen stocked, but it’s been ten days.

  Peyton smiles at me. “I’ve been able to place a bag inside the door without opening it fully. Harper didn’t talk to me the first few days, but I did give her all the information I knew to keep her up to date. For the last four days, we’ve been talking for over five minutes each morning with the door open wide. It’s a big win, and she does remember me, but she’s afraid, Hunt. She’s so damn afraid of Alejandro. But it’s all over now, right?”

  It’s this moment someone comes running down the hall. A thin woman with raven black hair. Out of breath, her head whips left and right until her eyes land on Peyton. Linc comes up behind the woman.

  “Come on, Apple. You’re asking too much from your body,” Linc says, and from the way she sways, I’m sure he’s right.

  The panic in her eyes is vivid, and her chest is rising and falling so damn fast. Shit.

  “Tell me it’s over,” she throws her words at Linc.

  That fucker should lie his ass off, but instead he sucks in air as if he’s a fish on dry land. Dammit.

  “Peyton,” Harper addresses her sister, “tell me it’s over. Tell me he’s dead, because if he’s still alive, he won’t stop until he has me. I was safe here. They didn’t know I was here. If he isn’t dead, he knows where to find me.”

  Peyton glances my way. Fuck. I can’t lie to my old lady. Fucking hypocrite I am with thinking Linc should lie his ass off, but now I get it. I can’t either.

  Harper’s eyes go wide, and her fingers dig into her hair. “No, no, no. He’s still out there, isn’t he? I can’t go through it again. He’ll find me. He’ll do it again, and then he’s going to kill me. I can’t.”