Swing (Tidals & Anchors MC Book 1) (7 page)

I opened my eye again and looked at him. It all made sense to me now. He had set me up from the very beginning when he insisted that I kill Alaska Winslow. A girl whose story I didn’t even bother to find out. A girl whose life was wasted because this old bastard wanted to get rid of me. He knew he would win the vote for an extra year and that me getting the chair was a real possibility. So he set me up for an to break a Havoc clause. Killing another member of an MC without reason or the unanimous vote of all charters of your club, is an automatic yes to Havoc for the perpetrator.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Pardon,” I said quietly. “Kudos though. This was well thought out.”

“You wanted the chair, well you’re gonna get it. Bring it in, son,” he said turning to someone behind him.

Son. Dallas. My best fucking friend was in on this too,
I thought with a laugh. He set me up by taking me to what I could only assume was the hometown for Stilettos and Steele. With as much as I hated to finally understand the truth, I also knew that I wouldn’t die here. I’d fucking survive this shit and I would get back at Pardon and Dallas. I’d get them at the same time and make them watch each other die.

I heard the thud of heavy wood as something was brought into the workshop. Then I heard Pardon tell the “boys” to get me off the table and tie me into the chair. I didn’t fight them; in fact, I went willingly. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to fight off the whole of Tidals & Anchors. Not yet, anyway.

When I was brought to my feet, I walked over to the chair like a man condemned to die, without giving them a struggle.

“Gimme a sec,” I said.

I rolled my shoulders a few time, trying to get some circulation going, before I put my hands on the arms of the chair and let them tie me up. It was actually kind of ironic. The chair that Pardon was referring to was the president’s chair of Tidals & Anchors. He had the
actual
fucking chair brought to Leon’s.

I held my head up and opened my eye to look around. Whoever was here from the MC quickly left the workshop before I could see them.

All of them except Pardon.

Mary Ann walked over to stand next to him and they both looked at me with satisfied expressions on their faces.

“That girl you killed? The club president? That was my daughter,” Mary Ann said, a dark expression crossing over her face. “Just in case you were wondering what I had invested in this.”

“Duly noted,” I replied with a nod.

I still don’t care.

A third person, the one I assumed to be the voice I couldn’t quite place, came to stand next to them. This person had a white mask over their face and was standing there with their arms crossed over their chest.

“Is it time now?” they asked, voice slightly muffled by the mask.

“Yeah. Yeah it is,” Pardon confirmed. “Teach him a lesson, but keep him alive. I want to make sure that I get the final blow.”

With a nod, the masked figure stepped forward, a dirty rag in their hand. My head was jerked roughly back against the chair as the rag was used as a blindfold.

I sighed impatiently.

“Before this is over, I
will
kill you.”

My whispered promise to my faceless executioner must have struck a chord because the hands hesitated as they finished securing the blindfold.

Pardon. Mary Ann. Dallas. The Faceless Coward. Tidals & Anchors.
My list was going to leave an epic bloodbath in my wake, but I would get every last person that wronged me. That was a fucking promise.