Stephanie Tyler - Vipers Run

“And here I thought that was Tenn’s specialty.”

“Tenn’s dealing with his own shit in his own way,” Cage explained.

“You were in the Army together?”

“We went through basic together. Ended up on different platoons for a while—that’s how I met his brother, Tals. Then Tals went to a different unit and Tenn and I served under Bernie.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Calla. It’s mine. Can’t stop my past from hurting people. The harder I run, it seems like the easier they catch me.”

“So stop running,” I told him. “What if we both stopped running and turned and fought instead?”

“I’m afraid we’d just be fighting for the rest of our lives.”

“I’d rather fight than run,” I admitted.

Later, I woke with a start, alone in bed under a warm blanket. I wound it around me as I looked around the darkened cabin.

I caught sight of Cage. He was sitting in a chair by the window. The soft light made him look young. It didn’t hurt that I was looking at the unscarred side of his face, although I decided then and there I liked both sides together, because both sides made the man.

“Hey,” he said without turning his head.

“I didn’t think you noticed me.”

“I notice everything about you, Calla.”

It was odd to be shy around him after sex, and I still was, but I fought for boldness. “I would’ve shown your face on the tape. That was everything, the whole show.”

“That part of the show was just for you.” He gave a fleeting grin, and if it wasn’t so dark, maybe I would’ve seen a slight flush to his cheeks. “Half face is standard for shots like that. No pun intended. My scars wouldn’t have worked for everyone.”

I moved close to him. He shifted on the chair, making room for me on his lap. Even if I’d wanted to refuse, he was tugging me down and I curled in his lap. “Are the Heathens the ones who did this to you?”

Finally, he ground out, “Yes. Five of them.”

Five. And Cage had been shot, stabbed and beaten severely. He’d be feeling those injuries for a long time to come. He rubbed his hand along his scarred neck, like he was revisiting the scene. He wasn’t self-conscious about the scars.

His jaw clenched and his eyes snapped fire. I should’ve been scared enough of him to move away, because I knew what he was capable of surviving. I could only imagine what a fair fight would be like for him.

“Why do you want to know this, Calla?”

“Because you almost died. Because I think you’re taking me into the same world where this happened.”

He clenched his jaw and then ground out, “Fair enough.”

I had a feeling nothing that happened to Cage was fair.

With Calla in his lap, Cage told her how he’d gone to the underground garage with the promise of information. “I’ve been trying to get information I could use against the Heathens. They’ve been giving my club trouble for years, and I finally had a way to stop them. There was this guy who’d been working for the Heathens on and off, but he wasn’t a member. And he was easily flipped for the right price. So I met him and got what I needed.”

“The numbers,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “It wasn’t in my source’s best interest to tell the Heathens what was going on, and as far as I know, he’s still working for them and he’s been calling me too. I’m still trying to figure out how the Heathens found me, but I’ve never run from a fight before tonight.” From anyone or anything.

“I consider tonight about saving me.”

He brushed hair from her shoulder and nipped at the unmarred skin, reddening it a little. She ran a hand over his scarred cheek—it tingled every time she touched it, like she was bringing the nerves back to life.

He leaned his head back and recalled that night. He’d been surrounded, and the fact that it was familiar faces only added to the warning bells that indicated he should’ve been up and out of there an hour before.

He could still hear Troy’s voice.

Dad says hi.

Jesus, how he’d ended up with such a dick for a brother, he’d never know.

He’d heard the sirens in the distance before he’d called Bernie’s phone. They’d scared Troy away—even though they’d known the ambulance was ten minutes out, Troy figured Cage would be dead by the time the EMTs found him. At that moment, lying on the cement floor, he’d been beyond pain, didn’t feel the coldness of the cement under his body as much as his entire body was cold. He’d blinked, but it hadn’t cleared the blurriness from his eyes. He saw the blood from his wound spreading under him rapidly.

Shot and stabbed. His idiot brother was always one for overkill.

You always knew you wouldn’t die in your bed peacefully. He’d known he wouldn’t live to any kind of ripe old age, but he’d lived longer than he’d expected to.

But he didn’t let Calla in on any of that—his history with the Heathens wasn’t something he let out easily. Instead, he told her, “I just knew I had to hang on until the ambulance got there. I hung up on you because I had to crawl through the garage—I was all the way in the corner, behind a Dumpster. They might’ve missed me.”

She stared at him. “I would’ve stayed on.”

“I know that.”

And he’d known he’d been potentially fucking up her life by giving her the intel, but choices were so limited. He couldn’t let the Heathens win. And he wouldn’t let the guy who’d put that pain in her voice win either.

He’d crawled on his hands and knees out of the parking garage, and when he couldn’t crawl anymore, he’d commanded himself to keep going, ignoring the pain in his chest and the fact that he’d begun to wheeze. He’d been freezing by the time he’d heard screams and attracted attention from two older women coming to collect their car.

One of them had pushed the hair out of his face and told him that he was going to be okay. She’d smelled like flowered perfume and her touch was such a mom’s touch, so much like his own mom before she’d gotten hooked on that shit. He’d closed his eyes and thought about her . . . and Calla . . . and Calla was his first thought when he’d opened them.

He’d even said her name, and the nurse told him, “You haven’t shut up about her. She must be pretty special.”

“She is,” he’d agreed, and then he’d done everything in his power to stay the hell away from her. And he told Calla all of that, then said, “I was in the hospital. I didn’t know Bernie died. Preach—Preacher Jones—he kept it from me because I wasn’t in any shape to deal with it. The second I woke up—”

“You were in a coma?”

“Yes.”

“When did the Heathens find out you were still alive?”

He glanced over at her. “When I called them and told them they’d have to try a hell of a lot harder than that.”

She bit her lip, then ran a hand over his scars. “This isn’t going to be an easy ride.”

“No one ever promised it would be.”

“The Heathens know I’m with you.”

“Yeah.”

“And Tenn said they know I worked with Bernie. That they’ll come after me in case I know something.”

“They’re ruthless, Calla. I wish I could tell you otherwise. I didn’t think that they were already watching Bernie. I thought I was smarter . . . that I could do it on my own, without backup.” He stared at her eyes, and there was understanding there.

“You didn’t want anyone else to get hurt,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “And in the process, look what happened. I made you a target. For me, that’s normal. I was born with a bull’s-eye on my back.”

“Can you use the information you got against the Heathens still? It’s not too late, is it?”

“Never too late, babe. But I’ve got to be careful who I give the information to. Law enforcement and motorcycle clubs aren’t exactly on the best of terms.” He sighed. “In the meantime, I need to find a way to stop a few of the higher-ups in that club. And I don’t want to talk about the Heathens anymore.”

It wasn’t fair to her at all—she had a right to ask all the goddamned questions she wanted to, even if he couldn’t give her the answers. But she looked at him, nodded and said, “I don’t either,” and he knew he was a goddamned goner.

Cage took a long drink of his beer and I did the same when he shared it with me. I was warm and tingly inside already, so I didn’t need much else to help. I was untouchable here with Cage. I’d take it for however long it would last.

“Storm’s coming,” he said. Until then, I hadn’t noticed the wind, but I quickly realized that the wind slammed the cabin doors. At any other time, the storm might’ve echoed the rising storm inside of me, but Cage eased the mind-numbing fear.

“How far away from Skulls are we?”

“Hours. Whole different world in these hills.”

“Whose world?”

“This is near Havoc territory,” he said.

“Is that a metaphor?”

“Another MC. Bad motherfuckers.” He handed me a beer.

“So, not friendly, then?”

“Better than the Heathens.”

I took another long drink from the bottle. “That’s not very comforting.”

“Not meant to be. This is dangerous shit.”

“And here I thought you weren’t scared of anything.”

His smile was easy. “Fear keeps you from being stupid, if you’re smart enough to see it.” His smile had been easy for a moment and then he turned serious. “The MC world . . . it’s nothing like you’ve seen.”

“We had MC members come into my family’s bar.”

“Seeing a couple of bikers in a random bar’s a lot different than living with an MC man,” he said, not unkindly, and I recalled the information Tenn had already provided me with. “But for the moment, I’ve ensured you’ve got no choice. You’re not safe without me, Calla, but that’s not the only reason I want you with me.”