Crash (Brazen Bulls MC #1)(68)

Rad was holding her, and he didn’t want to hurt her more, so he remained calm and turned his rage inside, pushed it into his gut. “Jesus f*ckin’ Christ.”

Gunner wagged the bottle in his hand. “This is empty. If it was full when he dosed her, and she drank it all, she’d be dead.” He nodded toward the body, and Rad turned his attention there for the first time. “The puke. Our little nurse is a smart cookie. I think she made herself get rid of what she could. From the beer reek, and the hurt to her face, I’d say he forced it on her.”

Rad scowled at the body on the floor. Smithers had lost his bladder and his bowels as he’d died. His chest, face, belly, and arms were slashed and gory. She must have stabbed him dozens of times. And then, it seemed, she’d puked on his face.

“This is a f*ckin’ mess, Rad,” Simon muttered.

“I know.”

A patched member of another MC killed by an old lady. That was war, straight up. A bloody mess in a motel room within spitting distance of a busy interstate. That was law, so far up their asses they’d be able to taste the sugar from their doughnuts. And Willa, unconscious and hurt.

And she’d f*cking done it on purpose. Sought this shit out.

She moaned, and he thought she might have tried to say his name.

“Baby.” He brushed his fingers over her forehead and spoke at her ear. “Wills, I’m here. Come back to me.”

He didn’t care how much trouble she’d caused. He would take care of her and keep her safe, and he would straighten out this mess.

“I got you, baby. It’s okay now.”

Easing his arms from her, he stood up. “This is on me. The Rat took her, we came for her, and I killed him. That’s the word.”

Ox shook his head. “A lot of people saw you lose it at the truck stop, brother. And the Horde heard the real story. That’s a lot of people to keep on board.”

“Big Ike wasn’t there. He’s the only one I’d worry about flippin’ on us. Nobody but us knows that she came here looking for a confrontation.”

“Gotta tell Delaney, Sarge.”

“Yeah, Si, I know. I’ll tell him, and it’ll be his call whether it goes to the whole club. For now, we hold it between us.” He looked at the two prospects, who’d been standing against the wall since the patches had arrived. “Do you understand me?”

They both nodded.

“Okay. I need to get Willa the f*ck out of here. I’ll take her in her truck. I’m gonna need somebody to get my bike to the clubhouse.”

“I got it,” Wally volunteered. “I’ll go back for the flatbed, when all this is done.”

“Good. Thanks, kid.”

“What about the Rat?” Ox kicked at the body as he asked.

To think clearly, he had to get the sights of this room out of his head. Rad closed his eyes. “We need him out of Tulsa. He must be here alone, or Slick and Wally would’ve had trouble before we got here. We don’t know if the Rats know he’s here, or if they know about his thing for Willa. I guess we need to assume that they do. So he needs to be on his way back to Lubbock when he dies.”

“He’s already dead,” Slick interjected, confused.

Gunner slapped him upside the head. “When they find him, it needs to look like he died away from here, short bus.”

“Oh. Yeah, I get it.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to disappear him?” Wally asked. “Like with that—”

Now Gunner slapped him. “Fuckin’ prospects. Shut the f*ck up.”

But Rad answered the kid. “He wears a patch, Wally. His club’ll look for him. Dirty Rats is a shit club, no honor at all, but they look out for their own. If he’s missing, and they know he was in Tulsa for Willa, they’ll look our way.”

“We can take the Rats. On our worst day, we can kick every Rat ass and all be standing,” said Ox.

Rad nodded. “Yeah, but we got enough goin’ on now, with the Russians. Kirill is already on edge bringin’ the f*ckin’ Horde in, and we’re still on guard to see if the restitution we made with the Dyson crew over Gunner’s last shitshow”—Gunner dropped his head at that—“keeps the Street Hounds out. We have to keep this out of our way if we can.”

“Okay.” Simon had been resting against the dresser. Now he stood straight. “Prospects can clean up what we leave behind—and kids, I mean squeaky clean. Strip the bedding, take it with you. Clean the carpet—get the big machine from the clubhouse. Spray a gallon of Glade or whatever to get the smell out. You are not done until this room is ready for its next guest. I’ll drive the Rat’s van, stop at one of those off-ramps to nowhere, leave the van in the bushes, him in the back like he pulled off to catch ten and got did. Ox and Gun can follow, and I’ll ride back with one of ‘em.”

“With Ox,” Gunner corrected. “Only bitches ride bitch with me.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “You are twelve years old, you know that?”

Gunner flipped him off.

Rad shook his head. “It’s good, but not good enough. Look at all the fluids—her puke, her blood, his blood, his shit, his piss. No way we can make sure all of her is off of all of him.”

Quiet took over the room as the men considered that problem. Then Gunner grinned. “Crash and burn, baby. I know just the place to do it.”