Page 66 of Cassie
“That we gave our kids what they need to get through this. Trust that they’re coming out the other end stronger than they went in. Confidence in what we’ve wrought, that’s what we need to believe.” Mason’s hand landed on his shoulder, heavy and hard, holding him tight. That grip was an oath between them. If Hoss couldn’t stand on his own, Mason would help, and if Hoss couldn’t walk, Mason would carry him. “Believe with me, brother.”
“And my woman? Cassie? You don’t know her, Mason. She’s more fragile than anyone would think.”
“Untruth,” Myron chimed in, lifting his head from where he’d been studying the video feed from the drone he had hovering near the clubhouse.
“Untruth? No, man. You’re wrong.” Hoss’ head swung back and forth. “She’s mine, through and through, but I went into this with my eyes wide open.”
“Watch this.” Myron gestured to him and Hoss walked around the island to stand at his shoulder. Mason crowded in behind him, Tug on the other side of Myron. “Gimme a sec to queue it up.”
The screen froze, then a small video screen expanded to the edges, blurry footage of the clubhouse captured in a still. Myron clicked and the video started playing. “No sound, but we have Garrett’s phone speaker, so I’ve paired it up as best I could. The drone was closer than I thought. Found this when I logged back into the unit.”
Hoss watched as Cassie idled up the driveway, head held high. She glanced at the man on the porch, then dismissed him to turn her bike and park. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mason nodding in approval. He stared at the screen, picking apart her behaviors until he saw her fear. Saw it start to take her over as he’d seen happen more than once, but then she rallied, rising above the wave that would have swamped her only weeks ago.
“Damn, girl,” Tug murmured admiringly as Cassie offered herself for Faith. There’d been no hesitation, no pause to consider, just straight up courage driving her forwards to save his girl. “Kick his ass, honey.”
Then the door closed, shutting her inside a building with at least six men, one of which was certifiably crazy.Bedlam. He remembered his conversation with Blackie and shuddered.Shoulda let him take care of the man. Blackie had mentioned it casually, the idea of snuffing a man coming up in an offhand way that Hoss hadn’t missed. He’d shut it down at the time, erring on the side of caution and Blackie had backed off.Shoulda let him.
“Untruth,” Myron reminded him why the video was important, and Hoss leaned back, scrubbing across his jaw, he covered his mouth for a moment.
“Untruth,” he agreed. “That took courage in spades, and fuck me, but I’m proud of her at the same moment I want to beat her ass for putting herself in that position.” Teeth clenched, he forced back the roar of anger that wanted to escape. “Fuck.”
“Hey.” Myron’s voice was urgent, and Hoss focused on the screen. There were more than a dozen bikes rolling up the driveway towards the house. From the angle the drone was at, they could see three men head out the back door at a run, trying to keep the building between them and the RWMC members coming in force to take back what was theirs. “Three down.” Myron tapped on the keyboard for a moment, and Hoss watched a man pause after getting off his bike. Gunny looked at his phone then up in the air, unerringly finding the drone. He gave a thumbs-up and must have given an order because five men separated from the main group and headed around the house at a dead run, guns in hand. “That leaves three.”
The men spread out, approaching the front and back entrances with caution. Arms locked on the counter, Hoss leaned towards the screen, feeling Mason and Tug adopting the same position beside him. They watched as their men disappeared inside, all movement ceasing. Myron changed the pitch of the drone, and they saw the smaller group already on their way back, dark forms lying on the field behind them.
A man came out the front, strolling as if he had all the time in the world. The image was blurry, but Hoss watched as, without looking up, the man offered the drone a view of his fist, middle finger raised. He headed for a bike parked near the side and threw a leg over, straddling the machine.
“Fuck.” Myron muttered and sent a message to someone. But before anyone could respond, the man rolled out on the bike, aiming at the road where he turned south, quickly moving beyond where the drone could see him. “I don’t want to leave the site until we know.” He sent another message and the group coming back from the field moved faster, rounding the house and mounting their bikes, angling out into the road following the lone rider.
Hoss knew, had a premonition, that they’d never catch the man. He expected to find it was Bedlam, and that wouldn’t bode well for anyone’s future, Freed Soldiers or Rebels.
Then he forgot the man, gaze fixed on the front porch of an insignificant club’s house in backwoods Ohio, as the two most important women in his life walked out of their own accord from the shadows and into the light. Faith’s face tipping up as the heat of the sunshine shone down on her.
Garrett was just behind them and Mason sucked in a breath as filled with relief as Hoss’ gut felt.
They both watched as the boy walked up to the girl and wrapped his arms around her, inky stains on his clothing exposing his deadly work in the darkness of the house’s basement. The girl turned in his arms and threw herself against him, cradling his head to her neck, pressing closer until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Cassie watched them for a moment, answering Gunny’s questions without turning her head away from these kids who would never again be children, having earned their adulthood in a trial by fire not one man would wish on them.
He saw Gunny reach out to Cassie, puzzled for a moment when she took something from him. An instant later, Myron’s phone rang and Hoss understood. He lifted it from the countertop and, without preamble, without introduction, he told Cassie, “I owe you my life.”
