Stephanie Tyler - Vipers Run

She stared at him. Blinked. Because she knew it was a promise, not a threat. “What the fuck’s happening, Preacher?”

“There’s going to be hell to pay.”

Her eyes were glassy, from the pain and the meds to combat the pain. She’d refused her anxiety meds, and Preacher didn’t push them on her. But Christ, there was no way she was getting through tonight without a nightmare.

“It’s not Cage’s fault,” she told him. “Which means it’s not yours.”

“What makes you think I’d take the blame in the first place, woman?” he demanded. She snorted softly and didn’t answer. And she was probably the only woman—the only one—he’d let get away with telling him his business. Like he didn’t know it.

Still, the reassurance was good to hear. Even if he’d never admit it.

She was watching him, a small smirk on her face, because she knew.

Taking Cage back into the MC—bringing him into it in the first place—wasn’t ever something Preacher thought about twice. He’d taken over the MC when it had been in the worst possible shape and he’d dragged it back to where it was today. He didn’t want a piece of shit he couldn’t be proud of representing him. He liked action. Danger. He didn’t mind stealing a car or two either. But the drug shit? No way.

When he’d taken Troy’s wife to bed—and he’d done it several times, because he could—he’d made her a lot of promises he knew he’d never keep.

There’d been a lot of women in and out of his life. But none like Holly. And even though he would end up sleeping next to her tonight, that would be all they did. She wasn’t ready. Probably never would be. And he’d ruined enough women.

“You’ve got blood on your jeans,” she pointed out, her words slightly slurred.

“Didn’t have time to change.”

“Vigilante justice?”

“Best kind.”

“Am I in the wrong place, Preacher?” she asked softly. “Maybe I should go retire somewhere warm and safe . . .”

“Maybe you should,” he told her, his voice just as quiet. But she was already asleep, or pretending to be so she wouldn’t hear his rejection. Again.

And he wondered why doing something for someone else’s own good was always easier than doing it for himself.

“Preach?”

He turned toward Talon’s voice, then got up, covered Holly and followed the man into the hallway.

“Sorry to bother you, man. But some of these guys are freaked about Eli being here.”

“You one of them?”

“No,” Tals said without hesitation.

The next day, Rocco stayed with Calla while Cage and Eli went to the clubhouse in the early-morning hours. Tals said he’d stayed up all night listening to the police radios and other MC chatter and he hadn’t heard anything about the Heathens missing one of their own. And this was big goddamned news. MC wars had been fought over much less.

“This shit’s going to start a war, Cage,” Tals said.

“Maybe you could announce the obvious,” Cage shot back.

“Goddammit, Cage. I was there, okay? I fucking sat by your bed, thinking you were going to die,” Tals told him. “Don’t pull this shit on me.”

Cage swallowed hard. Wanted to say that it would’ve been better if he’d been DOA, but that wasn’t true. It wouldn’t have solved anything. “Eli called he cops. If he hadn’t . . .”

He trailed off and watched Preach and Tals turn to Eli for confirmation. Eli nodded and Cage said, “If our father finds out . . .”

“Fuck that. I’d be more worried about Troy,” Tals spat. “Not that you have anything to worry about. He’s never getting close to you again.”

Preacher turned his attention to Eli, asking, “Do you want to stay here, with Vipers protection?”

“I want to stay here with Cage,” Eli said, choosing his words carefully. Cage wasn’t the only one who noticed that.

“How do you know he’s not a spy?” Crook asked. He was a year older than Preacher, another lifer in the MC, and when Cage shot him a look, he shrugged. “Come on, Cage. You’re as suspicious as we are. Just because he doesn’t sit at the table doesn’t mean he won’t learn a lot of shit.”

“I’ll leave and take him with me,” Cage told him.

“Ah, Cage—come on, man,” Crook muttered.

“For the good of everyone. If that’s what it takes.” Cage stuck his hands in his pockets.

“We don’t let our own just walk away when there’s trouble. And you are our own, Cage. Have been for a long time now,” Preacher said.

“You wanted me to stay away.”

“As much as I wanted you to come back,” Preacher agreed. “Either way, I would’ve been okay, as long as you were happy.”

“What makes you happy, Preach?”

Preacher smiled like he had the greatest secret in the world. “You’ve got to figure it out for yourself. Never made this easy for you. Not starting now.”

Eli’s phone began to ring. He stared down at it for a second, then looked up at Cage. “It’s Dad.”

“Give it to me,” Cage told him.

“I can do this.”

“Put it on speaker when you answer,” Cage told him.

With the men around him, Eli did as Cage had asked and their father’s harsh voice demanded, “Where the fuck are you, boy?”

Eli winced and seemed to lose his resolve.

It was all right, because Cage had enough for both of them. “He’s with me.”

“Cage? You send that boy back to me right now.”

“No. Never.”

“You want more of a war? Almost dying the first time wasn’t enough of a rush for you?” his father demanded. “I’ll make sure the job’s done right—because I’m doing it this time.”

“I want to stay with Cage,” Eli said. “It’s not his fault. He didn’t ask me to. I came to him. It’s my choice.”

“You don’t have a choice, boy. You’re mine. You’re a Heathen. Patched in. Did you tell Cage that?”

Eli swallowed hard and Cage cursed mentally. Being patched in was a whole other problem, one they both knew well. Eli had worn his probie patch into Vipers, no doubt because he’d known it would gain easier entrance.

“We’ll deal with it,” Cage replied.

“You want to be the one to cut the tattoo off your brother’s back? Because you know that’s the only way he’s out.”

Eli paled and Cage put a strong hand on his shoulder. “You’re a fucking bastard. But you’re not laying a hand on him.”

Cage hung up on his father, then asked Eli, “Did they force you to patch in?”

Eli’s expression said it all. And really, when they’d offered it to him, how could the kid say no?

“How big’s the tattoo?” Tals asked quietly.

“Between my shoulder blades,” Eli said.

Cage’s heart sank. That was really fucking big, the span of the skull and crossbones taking up the majority of space. Black ink.

The doorbell rang.

“Liquor shipment,” Rocco said.

“Eli, go with Rocco,” Preacher ordered. Eli hesitated until Preacher said, “Trust us, Eli.”

Eli turned to face Cage. “I do.”

When he was gone, Cage blew out a frustrated breath. “Not a lot of options.”

“So fucking antiquated.”

“They’re trying for one-percenter status,” Tals said quietly. “I heard it from Tenn, who’s been in touch with Havoc.”

“Like they haven’t murdered enough innocent people—now they’ll be forced to so they can keep their rep,” Cage muttered.

Preacher was nodding in disgust, because he’d obviously heard the rumors. “So what about sending Eli to Havoc?”

“Protection in return for what?”

“Sometimes Havoc doesn’t want anything in return for protection.”

“It’d be the last place my father would think to look for him. But what kind of life’s that? He’ll be surrounded by an MC. And he says he wants out. If that’s what he wants, I’m behind him,” Cage said.

Preacher looked pained. “He could go to your sister, but it’s risky.”

“We cover up the tattoo.”

“Anyone who looks at his back will know what it’s covering. Especially in a kid so young,” Preacher said.

“So we dismantle Heathens completely. I don’t see any other option,” Cage said fiercely.

Preacher laughed, but there was no humor behind it. “Sure, let’s take the easy way out.” He ran his hand over his shaved scalp. “Christ, Cage . . .”

Rocco and Eli came back then. “Eli’s got some information for us.”

Everyone turned to Eli, who said, “Dad’s got help now. This guy just came in a couple of days ago and offered to smooth the way into a new territory.”

“Great, so they’ve got a guardian angel,” Preacher muttered.

“More like twenty-five percent of their new-territory profits in return for a smooth run.”

“Only person who can promise shit like that is the law.”

“He’s not a cop,” Eli said with certainty. “But he’s not a civilian.”

“Fed,” Tals muttered.

“Which means he could be investigating or on the take,” Rocco pointed out. Either one wasn’t good.

“You didn’t get a license plate, did you?” Because Cage was certain the guy gave a fake name.

Eli smiled and the resemblance between them hit Cage right in the solar plexus. “I memorized it.”

He wrote it down and Tals went to run it.

Cage steered Eli to a private corner, sat him down. “I don’t care if you don’t have information—you know that, right? Even if you came here with nothing but yourself, it would’ve been fine.”

“Sorry about the patch.”

“I was going to come get you,” Cage told Eli. “Preacher and I were going to bring you back here, with me. For good. Whether you wanted that or not. I shouldn’t have left you there alone.”

“I’m not your responsibility,” Eli said, as if he was repeating a line someone told him over and over.