don’t know… they had masks, Blake. I was just taking a ride down past the empty homesteads, out on that valley stretch past the bridge? Didn’t even notice them until they were right behind me in my mirrors, and when I tried to hail them the motherfuckers brought out fuckin’ clubs. It was all I could do not to get sucked under my own tires when I skidded to the side of the road. But they were on me, fast.”
Blake squinted. Most of the damage was superficial, but it was pretty obvious that whoever had inflicted it had wanted to send a message. “Did you recognize their bikes?”
Gavin’s good eye blinked, but he turned away. “So, I tried to fight ‘em off, best I could, but there were too many. Clubs and fists coming at all directions. All I could do… just to protect my skull from being bashed in. Shit.”
Blake growled again, low in his throat. “Did you recognize their bikes , Gavin?”
The kid gulped. “I-I’m not saying I did or didn’t,” he said, clearly terrified. “Hell, like I just said, I was getting pummeled right, who knows what I saw? I wouldn’t even trust me to know.”
“Gavin!” Blake barked, and saw the bear shrink.
“It… I don’t know, Blake,” he said. “I think… I think one was Connor’s. But I’m not saying it was! They all had masks. And I was being beat around like a piñata, it’s just… that bike. I could’ve sworn, I saw a skull on the handlebars.”
Blake swore and stood up and punched the air. Goddamit! Everything he had feared was coming true, like clockwork. That was too obvious a detail, too specific, even for someone being assaulted. He knew what Gavin was speaking of—Connor’s bike was a gorgeous modded Harley, but what made it iconic was the engraved skull on the front of the handlebars. Almost like the bastard was driving death down the middle line.
“Maybe I was wrong!” Gavin pleaded.
“You know you weren’t bloody wrong,” Blake said, sighing and sat down beside him. “They wanted to send me a message, and they bloody well did. By beating you up. I should have known Melissa wouldn’t just let things go.”
“They wouldn’t.” Gavin shook his head in disbelief.
“I didn’t think so, at first,” Blake replied caustically, “but this is just the beginning.”
There was a tense silence between the two men, and it was clear that both were mulling over their options and individual regrets—for Gavin, he wanted nothing more than to be a soldier at Blake’s behest. But for Blake, the idea of putting others at risk for the possibility of leadership was reprehensible.
“What are you going to do?” Gavin finally asked, massaging his jaw.
“There’s only two things I can do,” Blake said. “Either I step down my sponsorship for Alpha, and let it fall retroactively to Connor…”
“You can’t!” Gavin exclaimed, rising to his feet. There were streaks of dried blood in his Russian blond hair that Blake hadn’t noticed before, and it made him look even more grim with his swollen face and that one lingering open eye, furious as a hawk. “Connor just wants power, you know that. If he takes control of the gang, it’ll be the end—it’s not just a matter of splitting loyalties. He’ll lead us all to ruin. Hell, you remember how he handled some of those encounters with other gangs.”
Blake rubbed his chin where the faintest hint of a beard was beginning to surround his cheeks again. If Connor did become Alpha, what would that mean? He had run over scenarios in his head, trying to guess at the young man’s prerogative, but it had always been bathed in obscurity. However, Gavin had often been on the same missions with Connor—and it was well known that Connor had always thought of his father as being too prudent, and had often tried to expand the territory of the Ursa Majors. Often at great cost and embarrassment to his father, who had spent a lot, monetarily and in terms of integrity, trying to heal the rifts in
Blake squinted. Most of the damage was superficial, but it was pretty obvious that whoever had inflicted it had wanted to send a message. “Did you recognize their bikes?”
Gavin’s good eye blinked, but he turned away. “So, I tried to fight ‘em off, best I could, but there were too many. Clubs and fists coming at all directions. All I could do… just to protect my skull from being bashed in. Shit.”
Blake growled again, low in his throat. “Did you recognize their bikes , Gavin?”
The kid gulped. “I-I’m not saying I did or didn’t,” he said, clearly terrified. “Hell, like I just said, I was getting pummeled right, who knows what I saw? I wouldn’t even trust me to know.”
“Gavin!” Blake barked, and saw the bear shrink.
“It… I don’t know, Blake,” he said. “I think… I think one was Connor’s. But I’m not saying it was! They all had masks. And I was being beat around like a piñata, it’s just… that bike. I could’ve sworn, I saw a skull on the handlebars.”
Blake swore and stood up and punched the air. Goddamit! Everything he had feared was coming true, like clockwork. That was too obvious a detail, too specific, even for someone being assaulted. He knew what Gavin was speaking of—Connor’s bike was a gorgeous modded Harley, but what made it iconic was the engraved skull on the front of the handlebars. Almost like the bastard was driving death down the middle line.
“Maybe I was wrong!” Gavin pleaded.
“You know you weren’t bloody wrong,” Blake said, sighing and sat down beside him. “They wanted to send me a message, and they bloody well did. By beating you up. I should have known Melissa wouldn’t just let things go.”
“They wouldn’t.” Gavin shook his head in disbelief.
“I didn’t think so, at first,” Blake replied caustically, “but this is just the beginning.”
There was a tense silence between the two men, and it was clear that both were mulling over their options and individual regrets—for Gavin, he wanted nothing more than to be a soldier at Blake’s behest. But for Blake, the idea of putting others at risk for the possibility of leadership was reprehensible.
“What are you going to do?” Gavin finally asked, massaging his jaw.
“There’s only two things I can do,” Blake said. “Either I step down my sponsorship for Alpha, and let it fall retroactively to Connor…”
“You can’t!” Gavin exclaimed, rising to his feet. There were streaks of dried blood in his Russian blond hair that Blake hadn’t noticed before, and it made him look even more grim with his swollen face and that one lingering open eye, furious as a hawk. “Connor just wants power, you know that. If he takes control of the gang, it’ll be the end—it’s not just a matter of splitting loyalties. He’ll lead us all to ruin. Hell, you remember how he handled some of those encounters with other gangs.”
Blake rubbed his chin where the faintest hint of a beard was beginning to surround his cheeks again. If Connor did become Alpha, what would that mean? He had run over scenarios in his head, trying to guess at the young man’s prerogative, but it had always been bathed in obscurity. However, Gavin had often been on the same missions with Connor—and it was well known that Connor had always thought of his father as being too prudent, and had often tried to expand the territory of the Ursa Majors. Often at great cost and embarrassment to his father, who had spent a lot, monetarily and in terms of integrity, trying to heal the rifts in
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