Raw: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Minutemen MC) Page 16

  Dirk didn’t say anything, and that was scaring her. He turned away from her and walked back to the fallen Tar Mongol.

  “Hello, Philip,” he said, with a cold, bone-chilling smile on his face.

  The fallen man looked up at him. “This is very stupid of you, Coleman,” he said. “Just let me go.”

  Dirk snorted out a laugh. “Are you serious?”

  “You’re just gonna bring more war between our clubs if you kill me.”

  Dirk took one step forward. He was towering over the man, a tall figure of rage and cold fury. “Oh, you’ve got no idea of the kind of war I’m gonna bring to your club.” He leaned down so that he could look the kneeling man in the eye. “You’ve killed Alex Hurley. He was a dear friend of mine.”

  “It wasn’t me,” the man said quickly.

  Camilla grimaced in disgust. Fucking coward.

  “Maybe,” Dirk conceded. “It doesn’t matter; it makes no difference. You and your club have killed a good man. You’ve killed an innocent woman. You’ve killed innocent children. Do you know how old they were, Philip?”

  The man swallowed visibly.

  Dirk’s blue eyes were impaling him to the spot. “You were there, weren’t you?”

  To Camilla’s surprise, a tear streamed down the man’s face. “God, yes. Yes, I was there! I swear to God, I didn’t fire the shots that killed the children, but I was there.”

  “How old were they, Philip?” Dirk asked again.

  The man hesitated. “I don’t know…the girl was probably about eight or nine.” He fell silent.

  “How old was the boy?” Dirk pressed.

  The man did not reply.

  Dirk pulled the trigger of his gun back. “HOW OLD WAS THE BOY?” he all but roared, his voice echoing off the walls of the canyon.

  “Four!” the man cried out, panicked. “About four or five years old!”

  Dirk fired another shot. The man screamed and went down. He was crying, and Camilla saw that both bullets had hit him in the same leg. Dirk was not going to kill him just yet. She wished he would. She wished he would kill him and not prolong this any further. She was crying, too, guilt still racking her over the death of that family. Hearing the children’s ages made it feel all the more real.

  “You’re a coward, Philip,” Dirk snarled. “You and your club and your president…you’re scum. I’m gonna wipe you out, personally.”

  There was no doubt in Camilla’s mind that Dirk meant every word. And there was no doubt in the man’s mind either, judging by the way he whimpered.

  “Please, Coleman!” he wined. “Just let me go!”

  Dirk was unfazed. “You were going to rape her,” he said. “You and your scumbag of an accomplice. You were going to rape her before you delivered her over to Ruiz, who would have presumably done the same. What kind of men are you?”

  The man was shaking his head. “I’m sorry!” he cried. “I’m so sorry! Let me go. I’ll tell Ruiz to just back down.”

  Dirk laughed then, long and loud and hollow. “Are you serious? Do you really expect me to fall for that?”

  “I will!” the man insisted. “I’ll tell him—”

  “You’ll tell him nothing!” Dirk roared. “And even if you did, Herman Ruiz has never backed down once in his life. He’ll hunt her down until he gets her. Which he won’t, because I’m gonna kill him first. You should tell that to your boss.”

  The man nodded. “I will,” he said earnestly. “I’ll tell him anything you want.”

  Dirk smiled. “Philip Rivera, you’ll tell him nothing,” he said again.

  The gun fired one more shot, and it was the final one.

  Dirk stood over the body for a few moments, looking down at it with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he put the gun away, and he walked back towards Camilla.

  She took a few steps backwards. She was suddenly very afraid of him. She had glimpsed the potential of his rage every now and then over the past few weeks, but she had never quite grasped its enormity until now. She had never quite understood just how ruthless he could be.

  She stared at him. “You’ve killed them.”

  “What did you expect?” Dirk said coldly.

  “You shot them in cold blood,” she said.

  “I shot them before they could shoot me.”

  Camilla arched an eyebrow, appalled. “He wouldn’t have shot you,” she said, nodding to the body of one Philip Rivera.

  Dirk shrugged. “He got what he deserved.”

  Camilla kept on staring at him, horrified. “How can you say that?”

  “Listen, sweetheart, this is war,” he snapped. “This is how we do in the Mojave Desert. I don’t give a fuck what you think.”

  Camilla snapped her mouth shut. Rage was still rolling off him in waves, along with the remains of adrenaline.

  “I suppose I owe you a thank you,” she said reluctantly after a few moments.

  “You don’t owe me squat,” he said. “Except for the respect of not running out on me and making me look like a fucking idiot in my own house—to the eyes of my own club.”

  Camilla lifted her chin a fraction and met his gaze straight on, defiant. “I had to try,” she said, proud of her voice for not wavering. “I couldn’t risk other lives to be lost because of me.”

  He hesitated then, taken aback. He seemed to soften ever so slightly as realization hit. “Is that why you did what you did?” he asked. “For Alex and his wife and their children?”

  Camilla nodded, feeling shaken and tired and desperate. “I can’t stand the thought of them slaughtering someone else’s family because those bastards are looking for me.”

  Dirk exhaled slowly. “Camilla, we’re not going to let that happen,” he said. “You have to trust us on this. We know what we’re doing.”

  Camilla was shaking her head even before he had finished the sentence. “Maybe you do,” she admitted, “but you can’t stop it, and you know it. No one better than you knows that war has casualties, and I just can’t stand aside and let someone else pay the price.” She took a step forward. He was looking at her in a way that let her know she was getting through to him. She had to take advantage of this precious, rare, unexpected moment. “Dirk,” she said, firmly, “let me go. We can put a stop to this right now. Let me go. I’ll drive to the nearest town and from there to the nearest airport, back to New York, and I’ll never come back here again. Ruiz will have no reason for repercussions, and you can go back to your fights.” She saw him hesitate. “Let me go, Dirk.”

  “I…” He trailed off. He was torn, she could tell.

  “It’s the right thing to do,” she said, catching his tormented eyes and pleading with him with her own. “You know that. Let me go.”

  He took a deep breath. She saw the exact moment in which he made his decision, and she could have kissed him right then and there for it.

  “Dirk!”

  Camilla froze. A familiar voice was calling out from the top of the canyon. She looked up, and to her dismay, she saw Stephan Walker and five more Minutemen standing by the edge of the ravine, peering down at them.

  Damn it!

  She couldn’t believe her bad, awful luck.

  “Are you both all right down there?” Stephan called out.

  Dirk shot her an apologetic look. He seemed genuinely sorry that they couldn’t put a stop to this right now. He seemed genuinely sorry that he was made powerless once again by the events.

  “We’re fine!” he called back. “We’re climbing back up!”

  Camilla swallowed hard past the lump that squeezed her throat. She wanted to cry in anger and frustration. So close. She had been so close.

  They climbed back up, slowly and laboriously. When she emerged, she hastily pulled the leather jacket closer to her chest and zipped it up, the wandering gazes of the men reminded her that she was only wearing her bra underneath.

  “Are you okay?” Stephan Walker asked. “Did they hurt you?”

  “I’m fine,” she sai
d, doing her best to meet the man’s startling, all-knowing gaze. “Dirk came before they could do anything.”

  “They tried to rape you?” Stephan guessed.

  Camilla nodded once, curtly.

  She winced at the pure, unadulterated rage that flashed across the man’s handsome features at her admission. She had the feeling it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with something else, but she refrained from asking any questions or saying anything.

  “Where are they?” Stephan asked once he had his anger back under control.

  Dirk nodded towards the canyon. “At the bottom of the ravine. Dead,” he added for good measure.

  Stephan let out a frustrated puff of air. “Goddamn it, Dirk,” he said, surprisingly enough, without heat in his voice.

  Dirk shrugged, unfazed. “They didn’t leave me much choice, did they?”

  “I suppose not,” Stephan admitted. “I would’ve done the same. Besides, two more Tar Mongols dead don’t make that much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. It’s all fucked up anyways.”

  Camilla cringed. She wondered if she would be given the chance to put a stop to this madness again before anyone else got killed.

  “Let’s go back to your place,” Stephan said after a moment’s reflection. “We need to regroup. And we need to talk, me and you.”

  Dirk nodded darkly. He grabbed Camilla by the arm and dragged her unceremoniously to the jeep. She climbed into the passenger seat and was silent as they pulled out into the desert, the Minutemen’s bikes flanking them.

  Camilla burrowed further into the large leather jacket as Dirk drove. She kept her gaze fixed on the desert speeding by the car, not daring to meet his gaze again. She didn’t dare to speak for fear of someone else overhearing them. Not that she felt like she could have found her voice at the moment anyway. Now that she had some time to sit still and think, the adrenaline was wearing off, and she was faced with the brutal reality of what had gone down and what had almost happened.

  She shivered and pulled the jacket tighter around herself. If he noticed it, she hoped Dirk would think she was trembling because of the cold night air of the desert. It had been a horribly close call, and the shock of it all was just beginning to set in. Suddenly, in the bleakness of the aftermath, Camilla wasn’t so sure that they would ever be able to put a stop to this. How did one put a stop to a war that all the men involved seemed to long for?

  Chapter 24

  Dirk was seething as he drove the jeep back to his house in the middle of the Mojave Desert. Dawn was just beginning to make an appearance over the horizon, but for the first time in a long time, that sight didn’t bring any comfort. Now that he was finally given the time to sit and think, all the anger was rushing back over him.

  His head was a jumble of thoughts, and his heart was a swirl of emotions. He was so angry. He was angry with Camilla for doing what she had done, tricking him so cruelly and putting herself in danger in the process. He was enraged with the Tar Mongols who had attacked a woman in such a horrible, cowardly way, driving her off the road and then following her down into the precipice to rape her.

  Mostly, he was furious with himself. He had almost let Camilla go. He had almost given into her—again. What was it about this woman that made him so powerless? So weak? He couldn’t believe his foolishness when it came to her. Maybe Stephan was right. Maybe he should have just let the Tar Mongols have her. That would have made things much easier for everyone involved.

  Speaking of Stephan, he was also angry with him and the others for having such horrible timing and showing up just when Dirk was finally about to take some serious action, as stupid as it might have been. But he was also grateful to them, because now that he had the chance to think on it. He didn’t think he would have been able to forgive himself for betraying his club like that.

  They reached his house. They all parked their bikes and the jeep outside, and they all went inside. Dirk had Johnny escort Camilla back to her room. He didn’t want to have to deal with her just yet; he needed to calm down first. The others were content to just hang around the house, enjoying coffee and breakfast, knowing perfectly well that the first thing that needed to happen now was for the club’s president and vice-president to have a heart-to-heart—or whatever else went down behind closed doors when those two talked.

  Dirk and Stephan left the others in the kitchen and living room, and they carried two steaming mugs of fresh, dark coffee over to the studio, closing the door behind them. Dirk let Stephan sit at the chair behind the desk, and he took a seat on the sofa instead, leaving the other man to have the position of power in the room. There was something comforting about allowing the natural order of things to take place.

  Stephan was watching him silently from over the brim of his mug, his hazel eyes sharper than ever. Dirk had to summon all of his energies not to squirm under the intense scrutiny.

  “So,” Stephan finally began after minutes of silence that felt like hours and days and weeks. “You’ve disobeyed a direct order.”

  Dirk did his best not to wince. “I have,” he said.

  Stephan paused.

  “I can’t give you the apology you’re waiting for,” Dirk said when the man didn’t speak. “I can’t honestly say that I wouldn’t do it again.”

  The shadow of a smirk flashed across Stephan’s lips. “Who said I’m waiting for an apology?”

  Dirk blinked, surprised. “You’re not?”

  “I’m not. In fact,” Stephan said after yet one more pause, “I’m kind of glad you did what you did.”

  Dirk frowned. Now that he had not seen coming. “You are?” he asked warily.

  Stephan nodded and took a long sip of black coffee. “I don’t think I was thinking straight,” he admitted.

  Dirk stared at him in disbelief, more at the admission than at the fact itself.

  “We’ve lost too many good men lately,” Stephan went on, ignoring the stunned look. “And we’ve lost two children, for God’s sake.” His voice trembled. He cleared his throat before he spoke again, “And Maggie. I would be lying if I said those deaths didn’t shake me up.”

  “I think we’re all shook up by them,” Dirk said darkly.

  Stephan nodded grimly. “There was a very good chance that if you went after the Tar Mongols on your own, you would’ve gotten yourself killed. Especially considering the situation.”

  Dirk’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What do you mean?”

  “They took a woman you care about,” Stephan said. “Sounds horribly familiar, doesn’t it?”

  Dirk’s jaw clenched, and his Adam apple bobbed visibly. He didn’t even bother to deny the fact that he did, in fact, care about Camilla.

  “I’m not trying to be a dick by bringing this up,” Stephan said, noticing his reaction. “But you have to admit that given the precedent, I had good reason to think you might have gone in guns blazing with no regard for yourself.”

  Dirk opened his mouth to deny it…and then he closed it again. The man had a point, of course.

  “I couldn’t bare the thought of another loss,” Stephan admitted, “especially not a loss such as yourself.”

  Dirk swallowed hard. There was a new intensity in Stephan’s eyes. He wasn’t used to seeing the man being so open, but he knew why Stephan was doing it. Honesty was the only form of communication they knew between them, and the only one that would not get them killed in the long run.

  “So I gave you a cowardly order, and I’m glad you didn’t follow it. Thank you.”

  “Uh…you’re welcome.” Dirk was still at a loss.

  “Now,” Stephan said after silence had settled back over them and he’d had enough, “we should really think about our next move. Ruiz is bound to find the bodies sooner or later. He won’t be happy.”

  “We strike first this time,” Dirk said immediately. “If we wait for them to attack again, God knows what they might bring. Especially considering their new alliance.”

  Stephan thought
it over for a few moments. He ran his hand through his blond hair in frustration. “I don’t think we’re ready yet, Dirk,” he said. “I hate to admit it, but I really don’t think we are.”

  “Then we must become ready,” Dirk said, unfazed. “As soon as possible, as fast as possible. We can’t keep waiting.”

  “The weapons aren’t in yet.”

  “I’ll ride up to Oregon personally. I’ll have Dan Johnson hurry the fuck up with the delivery.”