Page 1 of Vengeance

Chapter One

Black Valley

Chicago

“Kimberly?”

Dallas “Chicago” Smith panics as he answers his ex-wife’s phone call. After the heavy attacks on the Drifter women tonight, he knows she was targeted. It’s the only reason for her to call him this late.

The two have been divorced for years now, but Kimberly will always have his heart. It wasn’t until recently that Chicago realized the true reason she walked away from him. He stopped listening, and she saw it as the point of no return. He knows now that she had to leave. For years, he blamed her, but he recently started reflecting on the past and sees the numerous warnings she gave him. The effort she put in before finally saying she was done with him. Which is why he knows that if she’s calling him now, it isn’t good because Kimberly does not call him. Not unless something terrible happens.

“Some... someone just broke into the house,” Kimberly stutters.

“Where is he now?” Signaling to Psycho, the man who took Chicago’s place as President of the Black Valley charter, he says, “Someone just broke into my old house.”

“He’s... I killed him. I shot him,” she says with a tremble in her voice.

He heads to the door, his boots feeling as though someone suddenly filled them with lead and prevent him from moving as quickly as he wants to. “I’m on my way. I’ll take care of this, Kimmy.”

“He has the same leather as the guys who tried to roll me off that cliff. Dallas, what is this? What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain when I get there. Just leave him where he is and wait for me by the front door, okay? I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“York, West, get Lacey to our house and watch her!” Psycho shouts before he runs behind Chicago with a few others. “Is Kimberly okay?”

“She said she killed him, but I can tell she’s shaken. Hearing it in her voice...” he says and trails off as he jumps on his bike, letting the engine drown out the words he refuses to say.

Hearing his ex-wife and mother of his children scared feels like a kick to the gut. No, a kick to the nuts. It’s too close to home, and even though he’s not the President anymore, he still feels responsible. This started when he wore that President patch, and it feels as though the weight of everything happening sits on his shoulders.

As he drives to the house he once called his home, he remembers how the Savage Slashers tried to roll Kimberly off a cliff in her car ass over teakettle. The screams of terror never fully disappear from his mind. The only thing he had to hold onto was how quickly her attitude changed from fear to anger, and he knew she was okay. Whenever Kimberly yells, he feels better. It’s when she’s scared that he can’t handle it. It guts him because, especially now that they’re divorced, she shouldn’t have to suffer because of his mistakes. The club issues shouldn’t fall on her doorstep.

Chicago speeds through the streets until he sees the house he wishes was still his home. The house they raised their two adult children in, who no longer speak to him. It should look different, especially without him, but it looks exactly the same. Except for the bedroom. He knows he’s not the last man to sleep in the bed he bought in the house he paid for.

“Nice place,” Psycho says, jogging beside him while they rush to the front door with two more unknown footsteps clomping behind him. Familiar, but he can’t turn around to see who it is yet. Not until he knows Kimberly’s safe.

Chicago tries to open it, but it’s locked. He pounds on the door, his heart sinking. What if she only thought she killed him? What if he’s still alive and attacked her? What if she’s hurt? Or…?

“Kimmy! Baby, open the door! I don’t want to break it down!”

The door swings open, and he stares at his ex-wife standing there, shaking and pale. He wonders if another man is in the house when he gets a peek at the pale pink silk nightgown she wears underneath her robe. The robe is tied tightly around her small waist, so he only sees a small amount of lace and silk at the top and just underneath the short hem of the robe he gave her for their last Christmas together. Even scared, he can’t get over how gorgeous she looks with her long, dark hair hanging down her back.

“He’s in the bedroom.”

Pulling her into his arms, he guides her into the kitchen as she shakes. He points down the hallway for Psycho, and he nods to Derek Lee and Joel “Waylon” Maxwell to follow.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Chicago asks, his eyes skimming over what he can see, looking for any signs of damage or trauma. All he sees is a small amount of blood splatter still on her face, and he wipes it off with his thumb.

“He... he broke in through the back door. Kicked it in, I guess. I just fell asleep when I heard it, and I knew someone was in the house. I grabbed the gun in the nightstand, and when he came into the bedroom, he sneered at me, said something, and I shot him.”

He sighs and kisses the top of her head. “You did what you had to do.”

“He said he was going to hurt me like the others. Take what he wanted. Who else have they hurt?”

“No one. Not like he threatened you. A few have been roughed up, but as far as I know, no one was hurt any other way,” he says, unable to utter the word he knows scares her. It scares him, too, to think it’s a possibility with any of their women.

“Why are they doing this, Dallas?”

Letting out a deep sigh, he shakes his head. “I don’t fully know.”

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