Page 109 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

“We can’t let them take us,” Harley whispers so faintly I’m sure I’m the only one who hears her.

I give the smallest nod. I’m hyper aware of everything going on around me, and that each second is bringing Marcus closer to walking in on this scene. There are four of them, so they’d have the upper hand. But maybe he could retreat and call in backup. My mind is a mix of emotions, and my heart is beating a mile a minute while I wait on any sign from Harley that we should fight.

The bikers are discussing whether to take us to replace some product they claim the Evil Dead stole.

“You think we can still sell damaged goods?” the man on the couch asks, and a chill runs down my spine.

The man in the kitchen walks our way, his eyes taking us both in. “Jackal, you know I’m always down with sampling the goods before we put them to work.”

Jackal. I study the man on the couch. The name fits. His smile looks disturbed.

I give my attention to the man stalking toward us. From what they just said, I’m pretty sure we’re the goods. The fight or flight instinct surges through me. Flight doesn’t seem possible. I’m not about to let this guy touch me, at least not without a fight.

I turn, bracing myself, but he seems to sense it and pauses, looking toward Jackal.

“Not here, Trigger,” Jackal commands. “Let’s load up our goods.”

It feels like we’ve been standing here forever, but in reality, it’s probably only been around ten minutes. Nowhere near enough time for Marcus to arrive.

The other two men move toward us. Harley glances my way, and I know it’s time to fight.

I summon the immense will to survive that exists inside me. I elbow and kick the man who tries to grab me, roaring a shrieking sound that momentarily gives him pause.

“God damnit, get them under control.” Jackal rises from the couch to help. He tries to help wrangle me, and I head-butt him.

“Fucking shit.” He grabs his nose for a second, blood pouring out, then backhands me.

The force knocks me to the ground. My cheek burns, and I feel the coolness of a small trickle of blood down my forehead. I refuse to stand up, knowing it will be harder if I’m dead weight on the ground.I swear to God, they’ll have to drag my body out.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem like a problem. He bends down to tug me up, and I grab at him. I yank at the chain hooked to his jeans, trying to drag him to the ground as well. Instead, his wallet flings out and the contents spill all across the floor.

That really pisses him off. He unloads a string of curses, rears back, and hits me again, and pain explodes in my cheekbone a split second before the room fades to black.

***

Marcus—

I roll to a stop in my drive and climb off my bike. I can’t wait to wrap my arms around my girl. I parked right next to Harley’s car, so I guess I’ll have to wait to do what I really want to when I walk inside.

As I approach, I notice the door is not fully closed. My mind barely registers it as I push it open, but the scene inside stills my blood.

My entryway table is knocked over, contents strewn across the floor. My coffee table is smashed, the glass shattered into the carpet. My TV is cracked as if something was thrown at it.

“Brandy? Brandy,” I roar as I run through the house, checking all the rooms. No one is here.

Coming back to the living room, I see two phones thrown on the couch and a few small drops of blood staining the carpet.

I stand frozen in a panic, unsure what to do for only a microsecond until I move into action.

I dig my phone from my pocket and dial Crash. I need the backup from the club and I have to tell Crash. I know I’ll shatter his world the moment I do.

He answers on the second ring, which gives me time to calm myself.

“Hey, what’s up prospect?”

“Where are you?” I ask the question because I want to make sure he’s in a safe place when I drop this bomb.

“You don’t ask where the fuck I am like you’re my keeper,” he grits out.

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