Piston by Andi Rhodes

Chapter Twenty-Five

_{The world stops spinning, the sun disappears, the darkness in my soul takes over.}

Holland

Islide the last glass into the cupboard and close the door. Now I remember why I never bothered to get my own place or wasn’t in any hurry to plant roots: unpacking is boring as hell and time consuming. A glance at the clock tells me I have a few hours left before Janessa gets here so I dive into another box. There’s no way I’ll get everything done before she arrives but the more I do now, the less shit will be in our way.

My cell phone alerts me to a text message, and I grab it off the kitchen island and press the screen to see who it’s from. Janessa’s name is on the screen, but the preview pane of the text won’t load so I open it to the app.

Bringing wine. Need anything while I’m at the store?

I try to recall if there’s anything I need and remember that I used the last of my shampoo this morning after Piston left. I ask her to grab me some and set my phone back down.

I manage to get through five more boxes before there’s a knock on my door. I pause what I’m doing to answer it, assuming it’s Janessa and she decided to come early.

I open the door, laughing at her as I do. “Hey, you’re ea—

Something heavy strikes me in the head and pain radiates through my skull. As I fall to the floor, darkness threatens to swallow me whole.

“That’s for taking our cash cows.”

I squint against the blinding agony, but I have no idea who is standing over me. Dizziness assails me, my vision blurs. Something sharp jabs me in the neck and a cold burning sensation courses through me.

My last thought before I blank out is that I really need to quit opening the door before I know who’s on the other side.

* * *

Piston

I spot Fender leaning against a tree. He must sense my approach because he looks over his shoulder and puts a finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet. I creep up next to him and stare straight ahead.

“He’s on the phone with someone,” he whispers.

About fifty yards away is Des, cell phone to his ear. His arms are flailing as if he’s in a heated conversation.

“Who’s he talking to?”

“Don’t know. I need to get closer to be able to hear, but I don’t want to spook him.”

“Fuck that,” I say harshly but quietly. “Devin just told me that big brother here,” I nod in Des’s direction. “He’s the one who left the note on the gate.”

Fender stiffens and he clenches his jaw. “Suddenly I don’t give a rat’s ass if we spook him.”

He storms off toward Des, me right behind him. Des hears us coming and quickly ends his call.

“You followed me?” he shouts at us.

“Who the hell were you just talking to?” I demand.

“No one.” His hackles are up, his tone is defensive.

“Bullshit,” I snap. “I know you left that threat on our gate.”

His face pales and he tries to shrug off my statement. “So? What’s the big deal?”

Fender charges him and shoves him against a tree. “The big deal is your parents crossed a line. One they can’t uncross. You, however, still have a fucking chance. Now tell us who the hell you were talking to.”

“It was my girlfriend, okay.” Des’s face is red but the way his expression falls, the tone of his voice… I don’t think the color is all from anger. “She dumped me.”

“I’m not buying it, kid.”

“Look at my phone if you don’t believe me,” Des pleads. “You’ll see.”

Fender reaches in his pocket and grabs the phone. He maintains his hold on Des and tosses the cell to me. I scroll through his recent calls and my anger and suspicion deflate.

“He’s telling the truth,” I inform Fender.

“Told ya.”

Fender loosens his hold. “Fine, you were talking to your girlfriend. That doesn’t change the fact that you left that note.”

“Yeah, so?”

Des sure has the punk-ass kid routine down. Full of rage and no idea where to direct it. Always right about everything, not a care in the world with regards to who he hurts or who he crosses.

“We know your dad set the fire at the shop,” Fender says calmly, or as calm as he’s capable of.

Des laughs but it’s hollow. “Shows what you know.”

I narrow my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My dad didn’t set no fire.” Des tips his head. “My mom on the other hand…”

Realization dawns. “Why?”

“Because my dad asked her to.” Des shrugs. “If he got caught, he’d go to prison. My mom’s record isn’t as bad so she at least would have a chance at a reduced sentence.”

Holy shit! What is with people and their delusions lately? First Meredith, now this.

“What’s their next move?” Fender asks.

“I don’t know.”

I get in Des’s face. I don’t lay a hand on him, that’s not my style. Not with a sixteen-year-old anyway. It turns out that Holland was right about both he and Devin being minors.

“Think this through, kid,” I snarl. “You’re a minor. You still have time to get yourself out of this, to do the right thing. What’s their plan?”

Des is quiet for so long I fear he’s going to keep making bad decisions. But then he opens his mouth and proves me wrong while simultaneously delivering a blow I’m not even remotely prepared for.

“Their plan is Holland.”

I drop to my knees and throw my head back. My howl fills the air, bounces off the trees, and shatters every ounce of my self-control. The world stops spinning, the sun disappears, the darkness in my soul takes over.

“P, get up,” Fender commands, pulling on my cut to get me to my feet. “I’m sending Riker to get Holland now.” He shoves his cell in front of my face. “See. The text is sent. She’ll be here and safe before you know it.”

“You’re too late.”

I whirl on Des and grab a hold of his shirt. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. Holland’s gone. You can’t save her now.”

I push him away from me and take off running back to the clubhouse. I want to stay, to make him beg for his life, but I can’t. That’s a line I can’t cross. No matter what his involvement is in this whole thing, Des is still just a kid. A dangerous kid, yes, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

He can be the law’s problem for the next two years. After that, after he turns eighteen, all bets are off.

“I know where they’re taking her!” Des yells behind me, causing me to freeze in my tracks.

“Where?” I ask and turn around to face him.

Fender grabs Des by his bicep and forces him to walk. When they reach me, Des yanks out of Fender’s grasp.

“I need you to promise me something before I tell you.”

“You little shit,” I snarl. “Start talking.”

“Promise me that Devin is kept out of this, that you won’t take anything out on him. He knows nothing.”

So, he has a heart in there somewhere.

“I promise,” I agree. “Now, where the fuck are they taking Holland?”

“There’s a motel just outside of town. They go there a lot for drug buys so they’re familiar with it. The Million Dollar Motel.”

I know exactly where he’s talking about and there’s nothing ‘million dollar’ about it. It’s a hole, a shit stain on the community. And it’s now the scene of my greatest fear: losing Holland forever.

I run the rest of the way to the clubhouse, sending a mass text to my brothers as I go. By the time I reach the driveway, most of the MC is spilling out onto the porch.

I straddle my Harley and fire her up. I rev the engine a few times and circle a hand in the air, above my head.

“Let’s ride!”