Page 7 of Devil's Due: Sarge

God knows what I’m thinking when I step in his face. He’s my best friend. More than that, he’s my president. But fuck, this is Greer we’re talking about. “Fuck the brothers.Iprotect her.”

He doesn’t even have to put his hands on me to knock me down a peg, his words do enough for him. “You never go into a mission without backup.”

Christ. He’s got me. I nod, relenting, because I hate it, but he’s right. It sucks, but I relinquished total control of Greer’s safety to bring in Reap and the rest, bringing them in for group safety.

Nothing else for it, I head back to the clubhouse to finally get some rest. Rest isn’t what we get once we hit the club. These women are the new, shiny toys we’ve brought in. They talk. They drink. They flirt. I bide my time until I’m ordered to go lay down by Vlad.

“You need me, come get me.” I take her hand to the mouth of the hallway to point out my room. “No matter what.”

“Okay,” she replies. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Before I let her go, I gently run the pad of my thumb over the apple of her cheek. She sucks in a breath and I nod. I think we get each other. Then, I nudge her back into the common with the others and head to my room.

I’m sound asleep when my phone begins blowing up, springing my eyes open. It’s Vlad.

“Get the fuck out here,” he barks. “Club’s under attack.”

“What? The women?”

“Virgin got them up to the cabin.”

Fuck.

I rush into the melee. Guns fire. Brothers on both sides of the fence going down—but the gate is holding. Vlad is outside the compound. That puts me in charge until I get orders.

Before I know it, IEDs and shells are exploding around me everywhere and I dive to the ground, covering my head. We’re surrounded by the enemy. “Get down!”I yell to my men. “Get down!”

Fuck, this is bad. I lift my weapon to aim when a hand touches my shoulder and I whip around, taking the man by surprise, slamming his back to the ground.

“Sarge,” he coughs and I freeze. That’s Cutter’s voice. He shouldn’t be here in this forward area. “Sarge, brother…” Suddenly I’m not in a chilly, barren wasteland. It’s not dirt under my feet, but concrete. No IEDs are exploding around me but there are real bullets zipping past my head. I crouch down looking to my hands still gripped around Cut’s neck and let go, stumbling backward.

Jesus. “You okay?” I ask while checking him over.

He shoves my hands away. “Fine. You just looked a little lost.”

“Lost?” I ask, trying to cover. “We’re in the middle of a warzone, here.” My words might be on point, but he and I both know the truth. I lost my shit.I’m in Kentucky…I try to remind myself over and over.I’m in Kentucky…That’s what the therapist told me to do, anchor myself in the here and now. But the here and definitely the now sucks. It’s Greer’s big blue eyes, picturing them in my head, that finally cuts through the chaos to anchor me, because if I’m back there, then I’m not fully here to protect her.

The firepower we go against is relentless. I can’t be sure until this ends how many chapters from how many states Rage called in for this attack.

It seems to go on forever. When Vlad’s call finally comes in that he’s contacted the police, I’m relieved. The club we’re trying to be works with the authorities when necessary.

Not long after, cops dressed in riot gear show up. High powered rifles take out Rage’s men. I give orders for our men to lay down their weapons. We go from one set of problems right into the next. The cops are cuffing our men too, and all we were guilty of is protecting our property and our lives.

It’s Thornbriar’s Sgt. Tommy Doyle, who works closely with the Lords, to come to our defense and gets them to let us alone. Only those brothers without gun permits are taken in.

The whole situation was crazy. I stand for an extra moment taking in the scene before heading inside the clubhouse as if it was any ordinary night, only, with my body still shaking and my gut wrung tight.

Vlad and I, and the other brothers have earned a drink. A strong one or five. Though, with my protection of Greer, one is all I’ll partake in. I hop behind the bar and grab probably ten glasses, then swipe the bottle of Jack from the shelf behind me and continuously pour a straight line back and forth until each glass is filled.

Vlad’s the first man to get a drink, then I take my glass to head back around the bar to take a well-deserved seat.

What’s that saying? When it rains it fucking pours? Yeah, if that’s the case then this shit just became a hurricane.

My butt only just hits the stool next to the man when Vlad’s butt begins vibrating and he pulls his phone from his pocket. I see Reaper's name across the screen as he goes to answer it.

“Where you at?” he asks. Then there’s a pause before he barks, “What?” My gut tells me this call is about the women and I hate not hearing both sides. “Must’ve been out of signal range,” he barks again. But it’s when he shouts, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Greer?” that I stand so abruptly my stool hits the floor. “On my way,” he shouts, ending the call.

“Greer?” I ask sharply, joining him at his side as we race from the club.

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