War (Kings of Sin MC #2)

4. President

CHAPTER 4

PRESIDENT

Mixed emotions battle within me. Turmoil churns everything up, leaving me fighting for clarity of my own mind. The beeping machines fill my head.

Beep.

He’s alive.

Beep.

He’s alive.

Beep.

He’s alive .

“How?” I take a few steps inside, each one feeling like I have lead in my boots. The lights are so bright, I wince, closing one eye until they adjust.

“We think it was a targeted hit. Not sure who or why, but we didn’t want another attempt while he’s defenseless, so we put out that he didn’t make it.”

That’s precisely what I’d do. No need to kill a man if he’s already dead. My own dad filters through my mind. He didn’t make it to the hospital. A meat wagon came to collect his body, or so it’s been stated. The story has been embellished depending on who’s telling it, but everyone is clear on one thing: my dad was a good man and didn’t deserve getting exterminated—as Kitty would put it. Anger, white hot, consumes me.

“The doctors say it’s up to him now. He’s in a coma.”

This man was president and would have given that order to kill my dad, and he had something to do with Harley. I don’t even realize I’m standing by his bed until Callan shouts my name, shocking me from my daze.

“Let go of the tube, Rogue.” His hand is outstretched, held up like a stop signal, and his body hunches forward slightly. It’s like he’s trying to tame a wild animal.

I dart my gaze to my hand where the breathing tube is clutched tightly in my fist. Tears, warm and salty, slide down my cheeks and fill the cracks of my lips. “He killed Harley.” I choke on the word, sorrow washing over me. No one prepares you for grief, and you never know how you will feel—how you will cope from one hour to the next. Some days I can function, and then in a passing moment, my lungs seize, and I struggle to remember how to breathe.

“Rogue, I promise you, he did not fucking kill her.”

“You can’t promise that. We don’t know.” I’ve left my body. I’m an entity hovering above myself watching. Darkness facing darkness.

“I know. I know him.”

“What about my dad? He would have given the order to kill him. He doesn’t deserve to survive when they didn’t.”

“Listen to me.” I’m shaking all over, losing touch with who I used to be. So much pain is finally overwhelming me. I’m coming unhinged, spiraling into madness, and my thoughts are muddled with anger so intense it’s all-consuming. “You’ve been lied to, Rogue. The Kings didn’t kill your dad or the Devil’s pres.”

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Sniffling, I swipe my free hand under my nose. “Lies.” I stare down at the frail man and the machines keeping him alive. Why him?

Beep.

Evil always wins, but I have the power to stop it and end him.

Beep.

One small tug.

Beep.

A gasp flees my lungs as Callan’s body closes around mine, his hand resting over my tight fist. “I promise, I’m not lying. We have proof, Rogue. I’ll tell you everything. You’ll see that we aren’t the enemy.”

I want to believe him, curl my body into his, and let him take all the pain away and heal me. God, I feel so fucking broken.

“Trust me. Please.” A scream claws up my throat, wanting to rip free.

Releasing the tube, I exhale the breath I was holding and grip Callan’s arm, trying to steady my weak legs. My thoughts are discombobulated. Turning in his arms, I gaze up at the man I’m putting all my faith in.

“If you are the enemy, I’ll kill you both.”

* * *

When we’re back at the compound, I head straight for his office, tensing when Georgina stops Callan with a hand to his chest. “Can we talk?”

I don’t wait around for his answer and continue to his office. A second later, he enters and closes the door. I sit with my ass on the lip of his desk, arms folded.

He leans forward, his eyes meeting mine. “Do you believe me about Georgina?”

“Do you care?” It’s bratty, but damn, I’m angry.

Blowing out a breath, he straightens, placing his hands on his hips. “I don’t want to play games with you. There’s nothing between me and Georgina and there hasn’t been for a very long time. I know having her around stirring shit up hasn’t been easy for you.” I feel a burst of rage rising inside me. That’s an understatement. Kitty said he made it clear to Georgina there wasn’t going to be anything happening between them, but she hasn’t gotten the message. Maybe he should be telling her this, not me.

“Hasn’t been easy, is putting it mildly,” I bite. I want to hold her under water until her lungs burst.

“I told you we’ve met before.” He points his finger to me and then himself. “But there’s more to it.” My heart picks up its pace, my palms sweating. “I knew your dad.”

Thud. “How?”

“I want to tell you a story, and you need to listen, okay? The parts about you, you can’t repeat to anyone.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a reputation to uphold.” He quirks a brow, and I snort.

“Big, bad biker?” I mock, throwing his words back at him.

“Exactly.” He pulls his chair around to face me, taking my hand in his. “You were thirteen when I first saw you…”

* * *

CALLAN

Thirteen years ago…

“We should do Vegas.” Cutter sucks on a blunt and blows the smoke into Richie’s face. These fuckers are going to be the death of me.

“I’m going to break your fucking jaw if you keep blowing that shit in my face. You know I have to pee in a cup twice a week for my probation officer.” Richie wafts a hand in the air to clear it.

“Why do you think I’ve been roofying your drinks?” Cutter flicks the blunt at him, the orange ambers sparking across his shirt before it falls to his boot and he stomps on it.

Fists fly, and I grab Cutter by the hair that he finally grew long enough to tie back. “Quit this shit.” I jerk my head to the bike coming our way.

“Why the fuck does the pres want you meeting with this prick anyway?”

“I don’t ask questions when the order comes from the top—and neither should you. Wait by the gas station. I’ll be done quick.”

“Then Vegas?” Cutter asks.

“You only turn eighteen once, man,” Richie pipes in.

“Good luck telling your bitch you’re off to Lust Vegas for a weekend.” Cutter snorts. Richie gives him a one-finger salute as they start walking away. Cutter’s not wrong. Georgina is the most jealous woman I’ve ever known. She’ll cut his balls off. Not that I’ll be going. My old man said I’d be more involved with the club over the next few years. He wants me as his VP, but I have to earn that honor.

The Devil Skull Rider’s VP pulls up, killing his engine. He has a girl with him. When she climbs from the bike, I realize she’s a kid. Auburn hair falls in waves as she takes off her helmet. I cross the street and overhear him telling her to go get herself something from the store. She snorts when he hands her a twenty.

“I have to buy for Harley too. Double it.” Her green eyes narrow as her brows raise. I have to hold back a laugh. The kid is feisty. Biker brat through and through. Her attitude is just like my kid sister’s.

“Here, kid.” I pull a couple twenties from my pocket and hold them out. She wastes no time snatching them from my hand.

“You won’t get change.” Her old man guffaws as she skips off, poking her tongue out at him.

“She’s got spirit.” I chuckle.

“I call her Rogue. Never known a kid like her. She’s older than her time and more like me than I care to admit.” He looks me up and down. “Speaking of kids who are like their old man…” My whole life people have stated how much I resemble my dad. He’s a good-looking bastard, so I have no complaints. “You got something for me?”

Checking our surroundings, I pull the envelope from my inside pocket and hand it to him.

“If this intel is good, tell your pres we’ll owe him.”

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of, kid.” Plunging his hand into his pocket, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and offers me one, stuffing his own between his lips.

“No thanks. We done?”

A firm nod.

I turn on my heel just as the kid comes barreling out of the store, chewing on a Twizzler. She opens the bag and pulls one out, handing it to me with a grin. “Thanks.” I chuckle.

Most expensive Twizzler I’ve ever had.

* * *

ROGUE

Present

“Oh my god, you’re the guy.” My mouth drops. I remember that day so vividly, all but his face. My dad died a couple days later, changing my world forever. I stand, the realization hitting me in the face. “What was in the envelope?” I ask. It could be the reason for his death.

“I’ll give you what was in the envelope, but it will be a lot to process.”

“I can handle it.” He searches my eyes as silence hangs between us.

Finally, he nods. “So, thirteen huh?” I raise a brow, and he rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t have a thing for you, Rogue. That came later.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I checked up on you when you attended college.”

My heart beats a mile a minute. “We never crossed paths.” I shake my head. I may not have remembered his face because of the trauma of my dad’s death, but there’s no way I would have forgotten his face as an adult. I only saw a photograph and became obsessed.

“I never approached you. I was glad you got on living your life. I had no fucking clue the Devils had their claws in you.”

“So, you stalked me,” I tease. He blows out a breath and brushes a hand through his hair.

“I know how it sounds. Hell, Rogue, when I saw you…” He forms an o with his lips, letting out a rush of air.

“When you saw me, what?” I hedge, kicking his boot playfully.

“I knew you were mine, meant for me.” He grasps my face as he closes the space between us. “There’s a lot I’m not sure of, but never that. When I walked in and saw you sitting at a table in Ray’s, I knew fate brought you there.”

My lungs seize, my heart refusing to beat as it held still to soak up his words. “I know that’s a lot to hear. But there it is, Rogue.”

Tears leak from my eyes, and I choke on the emotion filling me up. It always felt instantaneous from the very first time I saw his picture. Fate . We’ve been dancing around the inescapable from the start. We’re meant for each other. Wiping a tear from my cheek, Callan wets his lips and I follow the action, desperate to kiss him.

Closing his eyes, he breathes heavy. “The envelope I gave your dad had evidence of a rat within the Devil Skull Rider’s club.”

“Wait—what?” All the joy from his first confession shatters.

“At the time, Tyler’s dad, their pres, was in talks of having the Devils become a branch of the Kings.”

“No.” Lies. The Devils hate the Kings. I wobble my head in his grip.

“Rogue, it’s the truth. The Devils only function freely because my old man allowed them to. They wanted affiliation with the Kings to boost their reputation and run jobs for us.”

“If that’s true, why didn’t it happen?”

“Because we found out Tyler’s dad was the fucking rat. It was all part of the fed’s operation. They wanted someone in our club, and to get his sentence reduced, Tyler’s dad went along with it.”

“This can’t be true. Tyler would have never been allowed to become pres.” Sins of the father get held against you in our small circle of the world.

“No one but your dad knew. That’s what the envelope contained.”

I think I’m having a heart attack. I clutch at my chest, my lungs refusing me air. “I need to see this evidence.”

Moving across the room, he opens a cabinet and flicks through files before pulling a thick blue folder out. Dropping it onto the desk, he unfastens it and tips out the contents. Image after image splay across the wood. My fingers nimbly sift through them. Pain throbs in my head as the evidence shows Tyler’s dad meeting with men next to a black sedan. The license plate is exposed and enlarged, and names and badge numbers are written in red next to it. The men he’s with stand in smart suits with badges on their hips, looking away from whoever took the pictures. There are stacks of paperwork. Written statements and correspondence notes of his meetings with the feds.

“How did you get this?” This doesn’t feel real. My whole life, I’ve been nourished with lies.

“My dad pays big money to people in all law enforcement departments.”

“That’s why Larkin came at me off the books.” I swallow.

“Exactly.”

“What about my dad?” I look up at him desperate for answers. Truths kept from me my whole damn life.

“He was loyal to the club, a great VP. If he hadn’t been killed, maybe we would have brought them into the Kings.”

“So, who would kill him?”

He cups my neck, careful not to put pressure on my healing shoulder. “The only person who benefitted from their deaths is Tyler.”

I finch away as if he burned me. “No.” No. No. No. “He wouldn’t.” My mouth dries. It becomes hard to swallow. Anxiety and despair build inside me like dominoes waiting to fall. I dart my gaze left, then right. Wild, untamed fear, anger, and sorrow pulse through me, making my limbs feel too heavy. Everyone said the Kings did it. Bear said they did it. “Why would everyone blame you?”

Keeping his voice low, he says, “Because it stopped people from asking hard questions.”

“And your dad just let them believe that?” The color drains from my face. My fingertips feel icy cold. So does my heart.

“It didn’t matter to him. It made people think twice about starting their own clubs near our territory.”

I’m dying inside. If it’s true, I’ve been in my father’s killer’s bed this whole fucking time. I nearly walked down the aisle to him. What’s worse? My dad fucking loved Tyler. Sickness stirs my stomach, racing up my throat. I dart for the door but only make it halfway up the hall before I spew everywhere.

“Rogue.” Callan scoops my hair back and pats my back. “I’m sorry.” All the hardness so often marring his features softens. The complex, cold facade he often wears is nowhere in sight despite a couple club members watching us.

“Everything good?” one of them asks. I don’t see what Callan does, but it’s enough to make them duck their heads and keep walking.

Wiping a hand across my mouth, I pull away from him. “I need some space,” I murmur. “Please.” And then I’m running through the club, Kitty calling my name from behind me. Grabbing my car keys, I push out of the club and type out a text.

Me: Ty, I’m coming home.