Page 26 of StoryTeller's Tale

I suppress my snort. Morals, in my view, are relative. Most of the citizen population would question ours. “Why are you telling me what I already know?”

Chaz gives a quick grin. “I couldn’t commit the Soulz to taking the Dominators on, but Slugger? Well, if he decides he wants to bloody their noses, that puts me in a different place. He’s got a plan, ST, and it doesn’t involve losing one of his best enforcers.”

After taking another sip of my whisky, I tap a cigarette out of my pack. Lighting it gives me a second to try to work out what he’s saying. It is comforting to know he believes Slugger doesn’t want to lose me. “Got a plan to stop me putting my head in the lion’s den?”

He chuckles. “Not what I’m saying. You’re definitely going to be doing that. But Slugger’s got the yearning to kick this business of theirs to the kerb. At least in Arizona.”

“We even sure that’s where they’re holding her?” That doubt has been growing in my mind.

“Oh, ST, you of little faith. Slugger’s got his best IT guys already tracking them down. The Dominators that took her have been identified, and their holding den is indeed local.” He takes out his phone, taps at it, then passes it across. “Plans of the building where they hold the women before transporting them to auction. Looks like we’ve long known about it but haven’t had a reason to go after them until now.”

Using two fingers, I enlarge the image as best as I can. “The basement?”

“Seems the most likely place.”

I suck in smoke, hold it for a moment, then blow it out. “So, what’s the plan?”

Chaz tops up our whisky, then starts to explain. As he speaks, my lips curve upward as my interest is piqued.This sounds more like it.The gist being, while I’ll be going in on my own, risking them shooting first rather than talking, I will have something to offer them as long as I’m given enough time. And while out of sight, my brothers will be there with me, ready to come in and attempt a rescue should I end up imprisoned along with her.

Standing, I ponder the situation. As a SEAL, I was given no guarantee that I would survive. From the time I first put on a biker cut, I accepted that my days were likely to be limited as a result. The benefit being, during the time you’re wearing it, you can really live and feel alive, unlike the morons who work nine to five, with no other object in mind beyond surviving to get their pension. I’ve long been prepared not to make old bones.

I live for danger and excitement.

Is the cause worthy? That’s the question. Is Sheri worth the ultimate payment? Probably not, but sticking one to the Dominators? Yeah, that’s something I can get behind.

“So, what do you think?” He salutes me with his glass as he raises an eyebrow.

I grin and don’t hesitate. “I’m not backing out.”

CHAPTERNINE

STORYTELLER

The whisky and beer combine to provide the sleep medication that I need, and I wake early the next morning actually feeling refreshed. Sure, I have to stretch my back to iron out all the kinks from that fucking mattress, but my mind is definitely in a better place than where it had been yesterday.

With the plan Chaz and Slugger have come up with, I may actually have a chance of getting out of this alive, and, finally, reconcile Sheri with her precious book. I snort to myself, thinking, if this works, maybe she’ll need to send a thank you note to the author. If it hadn’t been for me finding the novel lying around, I’d never have known she was in trouble. The cops would still be chasing their tails, and I know, left to them, no trace of her would ever be found. She’d end up as a missing person statistic, her memory gradually fading like the weather-worn posters left on lampposts.

I know I can’t save everyone, but perhaps I’ll be able to save her. Maybe it would earn me some points in my favour with the universe. Fuck knows I could do with some.

Down in the clubroom, Brandy and Brea have got some breakfast cooking. I wait my turn then fill my plate with hash browns, eggs and bacon. I’m chewing on a mouthful when Iron steps up.

He eyes me carefully before he sits down, folding his meaty hands on the table. “You happy with this?”

The sergeant-at-arms will be able to see the same flaws that I can, and possibly some more that I can’t, or haven’t yet thought about. Whatever, I notice he doesn’t look particularly happy. “Ride or die, Brother. Go big or go home, isn’t that the saying?”

“We’ll give you a good send-off if you don’t make it back.”

I turn and give Beard the finger that comment’s worthy of, noticing the kitchen’s slowly filling up, and all eyes seem to be in my direction.

“Who you going to leave your sled to?” Pothead asks.

“Not you for a fuckin’ start,” I growl.

“Children, children.” Bull appears, slapping his fist into his palm. “Whose heads do I need to knock together?”

“His probably.” Legit points my way. “He’s the one committing suicide.”

I shrug. That’s not my intention, though there’s a chance I might never come back, and it’s not too hard for me to accept that. Not much different to being alone on the road without a club backing me up. I take my life in my hands every day as a nomad. Living life on the edge is what it’s all about.

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