Soul Ties (Club Ties #4) (22 page)

He’d let Sarah slip past his defenses again too. Dammit, he couldn’t keep a clear head when in her presence. His mind was thick with road rash, and she was the curve he’d laid down his bike for.

“War.”

He jerked at the word. He’d missed something. The atmosphere in the room had changed. Jamison’s face was lined, and Ace looked pissed. Drake pulled out his weapon and slapped it on the table. The clank made them all jolt.

“I went in there once and I’ll go again,” Drake said.

Jamison pitched his voice low. “We fight until we uncover the truth about our brother.”

“For O’Dovey!” Ace slammed his 9mm down.

“O’Dovey!” More guns hit the table.

Connall pushed away from the table, but nobody noticed he hadn’t contributed his arms as well. He stalked out. When he walked into the main room, he spotted Sarah immediately. He reached for her, but whatever she saw on his face made her spin.

And take off for Church.

Fuck.
“Sarah.”

She burst into the room, and everyone looked up at her. Connall caught her around the middle and dragged her back. She kicked out, screaming. He clamped a hand over her mouth to hold in the words she would spew.

“Take care of your woman,” Ace said.

With a chin-nod, Connall dragged her out and kicked the door shut behind him. As he towed her through the room, the women watched, eyes wide. Once he had Sarah outside, he pinned her to the side of the building and glared down at her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She couldn’t speak around his hand, but he wasn’t about to let her go until she listened. Her eyes glittered with fury. Good. The angrier, the better. Both of them operated best when pissed off beyond reason.

They usually had the best sex too.

Battling his rising arousal, he slowly lifted his fingers from her mouth. She bit his hand—hard.

With a grunt, he ground his cock against her, and she silenced instantly. “Sweetheart, don’t make me gag you, tie you up, and lock you in my house.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

He leaned closer. “You’d like that, I know.” He skimmed one breast with the flat of his hand. “Your nipples are tight. And I bet your pussy’s soaking wet for me.”

“My body has a mind of its own when you’re around. But we both know what there really is between us—lies, secrets, and sex. Nothing else.”

A knife plunged into his heart. He gulped back the pain. Well-deserved pain.

He pushed away from the wall, instantly missing her warmth and softness. Without her scents, a hollowness formed in his center. “You’re not telling them about O’Dovey.”

“It isn’t your choice to make.”

He raised a brow and stared at her for long seconds. When she started to squirm, he said, “We’ll see about that.” He stuck his head through the club door and called for Ever.

She came at once, concern on her face.

“Your friend wants to do something that will get her in trouble—deep trouble. I won’t tell you what, and I don’t believe she will either.” He leveled his gaze at Sarah. “You don’t want her to get into trouble, do you, Ever?”

“Not at all. Leave it to me.” She slid her arm around Sarah and pulled her back inside.

Moments later the guys poured into the parking lot. Engines sang. Ace and Jamison approached Connall. “We need you to fight for us tonight, West,” Ace said.

“We need weapon money,” Jamison added.

“Fight Jason?” Connall rubbed the back of his right hand where it was still slightly sore from the last fight despite thick plaster.

They nodded.

“I’m in.”

Ace clapped him on the back. “I knew you’d pull through for us. If we’re taking the Raiders by storm again, we’re bringing the heavy artillery.”

Fuck. He had two ways to stop this insanity—refuse to fight or confess to the murder. Neither set well with him.

He went into the club to find the plaster wraps for his hands. On his way past Sarah, he somehow managed to keep from looking at her.

Sarah could almost feel the fists jar and splinter Connall’s face as if Jason were messing up her own. Connall’s head rocked. He spat blood and flashed a red-toothed grin.

He was terrifying. Sexy, manly beyond belief. Muscles bunched and coiled. Oh, yes, she knew about his raw power.

When Connall doubled over from a punch to the gut, she cried out. Ace put a hand on her arm, and she leaned into him, taking what comfort he offered.

“He’s going to ruin himself.” Her worry burst out, vocalized at last.

“No, he’s got this. We have all our bets riding on him. He won’t let us down.”

Shock tore through her. “But Jason’s huge and undefeated!”

“Until now. He’s got this, Sweetheart.”

She grasped Ace’s shoulder for support just as Connall dropped to one knee. Jason fought dirty. He drew his boot back sharply, but Connall still had wits enough to dart aside.

Jason’s fist arced straight at her love’s face, and she couldn’t look. Turning away, she quivered and inhaled the stench of blood and greed in the air. Men held fists of cash, and in the corner several of the Russians were standing with folded arms.

A shiver rolled through her.

When she tried to pivot back to the ring, Ace held her by the nape, keeping her face against his shoulder. The crowd told her everything, though. When they groaned, she winced. When they booed, she wanted to throw up. And if they cheered, she soared.

“Fuck.” Ace’s harsh tone jerked her around. He forced her face down and growled into her ear, “Go. Get the hell outta here.”

Panic lifted. She tried to fight him, but he was bigger and stronger and madder. The emotion flooded her in waves. “Oh God, is he all right?”

“Just go. Run and don’t look back.”

She wrenched from his hold and took off, weaving through the bloodthirsty men. All of those men wearing the beloved Hell’s Sons patch—the same men who’d put the man she loved in that ring. Still, she loved her club with a ferocity most people would never experience.

She stole a look over her shoulder, but all she could see was men crowding into the ring. Pulling the guys apart? She needed to find out.

Faltering, she started to go back. And a big male knocked her out of the crowd. Bodies closed like a door, and suddenly she was on the outside, unable to see even by jumping to look over their heads.

Despair settled over her, and tears rushed up. But she beat them back and shoved her hand against the nearest biker. “Get me to that ring.”

He grinned at her. “Not a chance, Sweetheart. This is no place for you.” He nudged her farther away from the mad, chanting muscle of a crowd out of control.

Dammit, they were all in this together, and she was banned. Money started flying, exchanging hands so fast and giving her no chance to learn who’d won.

There had to be another way in.

A shot sounded. She whirled. Was struck from behind by a big, hard, sweating body. He pinned her even as he threw out an arm to aim his weapon. Connall’s hardness pressed her into the concrete floor, but she didn’t mind the pain. Her heart flipped and revved.

“You’re okay.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Stay down.” His mouth sounded swollen, and she burned to wiggle out from under him and examine his wounds.

Another shot, and ice trickled into her veins. “Raiders?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” In a flash, he was on his feet, and she was dragged with him. He threw her at the exit and yelled, “Run!”

This time she did. Straight for the club where all the women and children were. The parking lot was black, but she knew the landscape like the inside of her own brain. Chrome glinted in the moonlight, and it lit her last few steps to the door.

After hurling it open, she ducked inside. A few women glanced up. Ever jumped to her feet. “Sarah, you’re covered in blood!”

Her exclamation momentarily anesthetized her mind. “It’s Connall’s,” she said with utter certainty. She hadn’t even felt him bleeding. The shot she’d heard. His blood. “Oh my God, how much is there?” Tearing at her clothes, she tried to see.

Ever and Delta grabbed her. “It’s okay, it’s okay. What’s happening?”

“R-Raiders. L-lock it down.” The shock was seeping in, and a strange coldness swallowed her.

Women ran for the door just as it opened. Two prospects appeared, and the door was bolted behind them. They swept their gazes over the room, faces masked with the typical Hell’s Sons you-don’t-need-to-know look.

Sarah had seen it on every man she’d ever known in this club. Her father was a master of it, and Connall…

She roused. “Connall?”

They didn’t respond, only pulled weapons as more shots sounded outside. She dropped to the floor in a heap. Ever enveloped Sarah in her embrace, but nobody could help her at this point.

My fault. All my fault.

“It wasn’t the Raiders.”

Ever blinked at her. “What?”

“The Raiders didn’t take O’Dovey. I-I killed him.”

Her friend’s eyes widened, and understanding rushed in. The knowledge that Sarah was a monster, a betrayer. And all the men they loved were in that warehouse, at war against a rival they believed had taken O’Dovey when really it was one of their own.

She could barely drag air into her lungs. Ever released her—and Sarah’s heart shattered. It was just as she’d believed all this time. Her family wouldn’t understand. They’d never forgive her.

Crawling to her feet, she swayed and almost fell over. If she could get to Connall, they could run.
If I can find him in the darkness while dodging bullets.

Two hard thumps on the door, and the prospects opened it, weapons trained on the opening. But a familiar face was there. “Let us in. We’ve got wounded.”

“Connall!” She lurched toward him, but he didn’t even look at her. He had Wrench by the shoulders of his shirt, dragging him. Behind them was another Son with a body looking so pale and lifeless, Sarah burst into tears.

A prospect grabbed her around the middle and tried to drag her back.

“No.” Connall’s tone was like God’s on the mountaintop of this mayhem. “I need her.”

She hit her knees and put her hands on the man with more injuries.

“No, I’ll see to him. You take Wrench.” Connall whipped out a knife and sliced into the still man’s shirt. A gut shot. His insides were hanging out, and there wasn’t a damn thing Connall could do about it here. He didn’t have an OR at the ready or even sterile equipment.

She caught his gaze, and he nodded at the prospect. “Get him into the van and take him to the hospital. Don’t tell them a goddamn thing, you understand?”

“Yeah, Doc.” It took both prospects to lift him. Connall saw them to the door and barred it behind them. When he returned to Sarah’s side, his words rang in her brain, echoing to the far reaches.

“What did you mean when you said ‘I need her’?”

He pressed his lips into a white line. “I need you to help with Wrench. Keep him still while I see where he’s hit.”

She cupped Wrench’s white face and looked into his pained eyes. “Connall West doesn’t need anybody.”

“That’s not true. I need this club.”

“Because they understand your darkness.”

“That’s right.” He raised his head and barked an order at the women hanging around them. A minute later he had supplies—towels, water, and a crude first aid kit. As far as Sarah knew, it only held gauze, tape, and a bottle of Vicodin.

Connall flipped open the lid and went straight for the bottle. He shoved two at Sarah. “Make him swallow these.”

“Whiskey…” Wrench croaked.

“Yeah, let him chase it with whiskey. We need him to hold still. This fucking bullet’s coming out.”

It was lodged in Wrench’s side. She guessed it wasn’t urgent or he’d be in more trouble. But it had wrecked his tattoo. The bullet had blown apart the coiled snake Paxton had put there just weeks before.

Sarah got the pills into his mouth and held his head up to pour copious amounts of whiskey down his throat. Connall organized his supplies, asked for a pair of tweezers, and Delta ran for them.

Outside, the shots were few and far between. An eerie silence penetrated the thick walls of the clubhouse.

Suddenly she remembered the blood she was covered in. She scanned Connall, and a harsh cry left her. “You’re hit!”

“I’m fine. I need to get this out first.”

“But…no! Connall!” She reached for him, but he picked up the knife and began to cut away Wrench’s clothing. When he had the area bared sufficiently, he tossed a glance at Sarah. Something softened, and he gave a low grunt. “I’ll be fine for a few minutes here. Then I’ll drive in to the hospital. I have a friend.”

She nodded, understanding he was the buttoned-up doctor who shouldn’t have tats, patches, or a gunshot wound in his upper thigh. It was his blood that smeared her. “Connall…it’s not…in your artery, is it?”

“No. A few inches to the left. Now hold this right here.” He passed a pair of scissors to her. He’d wedged cotton between the blades, making a way to stop the blood at the site he needed to probe.

He held the tweezers, and she held her breath. “I’m going in. If he starts to rear, you’ll have to hold him down, ladies.”

A small murmur from the group. And then the doctor was officially on duty.

»»•««

Pulling up in front of the hospital sent a sharp pang through Sarah. Connall had refused to let her drive him here to be treated. He’d asked one of the prospects. And he’d made it clear Sarah was not welcome to ride along.

Still, she had to see him.

She climbed out of the car and approached the brick edifice with a pounding heart. Asking where he was made her feel two inches tall, because if she were really important to him, she’d know, right?

“He’s not here today,” the lady behind the desk said.

“No, he wouldn’t be working today. He was injured, and he came in as a patient.”

She stared at her computer for a long time before saying, “No. He isn’t here.”

Her heart turned over. Her mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion—that he’d succumbed to the gunshot wound. But no, the brothers would know.

They don’t know about O’Dovey, do they?