Rooster | Fallen Angels MC #4

Chapter 22

Carla opened the door with a shaky smile and stepped aside. I ran my eyes over her to make sure she was alright. For God's sake, the woman was in her damn night gown. When I stepped inside and she closed the door behind me, I caught sight of who was in her living room.

"Bruce?" I asked, astonished. We hadn't heard anything more since Pres had hired Vivian to keep an eye on him at the bar. Here he was, twirling his gun at me and smiling. As far as Vivian was concerned, there had been little to nothing on the Bruce front.

He'd been the reason she was hired by the club, but it had been relatively quiet.

"I've been looking for a good time to see you again, Rooster." Why me? Why me specifically? I eyed Carla, who was still hovering near the front door. First my mother had been terrorized, now Carla?

"You got a problem with the club, you have to take it up with Pres. You know that," I tried to reason. What the hell was his problem? I stepped slightly to the left to cover Carla.

"I've been gathering evidence on the club for years. Years! You wouldn't believe the shit I have on you guys," Bruce said, waving his gun around like it was a goddamn toy.

"And I suppose you're here to tell me about your whole evil plan," I droned. I set my helmet on Carla's counter to make sure I could reach for my gun if I needed to. Damn, I hoped the boys were getting here soon.

"I'm ready to go to an attorney and get full goddamn immunity. You want to know why?" No, but Carla was shaking behind me and I was ready to hurry this story time up. "The club is a fucking brotherhood, and you guys think you can just remove me?"

"Bruce that was fucking years ago. Why do this shit now? Why me?" I demanded. Carla sniffled behind me, and I reached for my gun. This had to end sooner rather than later.

Bruce stepped closer and raised his gun to my forehead before I could even move mine. Carla gasped behind me, but I put a hand behind my back to stop her from moving.

"Does the name Trigger mean anything to you?" With one word, I was transported back to right after I'd rejoined the club, and a rough hand yanked me into a dark room. I shook my head.

"I have no idea what happened to Trigger," I muttered, and that was telling the damn truth.

"Well I have a good idea of what happened to you, Rooster. Of how you cost Trigger his place in the club and his life," Bruce pushed the gun roughly into my head. I could probably take him right about now, but I had to think about Carla behind me.

"You have no fuckin' idea what you're talking about, Bruce," I insisted. I hadn't realized the two had been so close, but Bruce–both as a brother and as a Doc–hadn't had much influence on the club.

Why the fuck was this shit happening now?

"I've been biding my time, waiting for you to fuck up. To earn your spot right next to Tigger, just like you deserve. At the same time, I can make sure that club runs into the fucking ground," Bruce raged. His face was starting to bulge, now, and it was red and he had a vein sticking out on his forehead.

"Bruce, Carla has no damn place in this," I argued.

"I needed some way to get you here, besides, I needed to bide a little time while my guys took care of Viper down at the bar."

A cold sweat washed down my spine, and it felt like a brick had landed in the pit of my stomach. That was why he was coming now. He'd learned somehow that Viper was working for the club and was going to use her to get whatever he deemed to be revenge on me.

Christ! Was she okay? Had they jumped her before she even got to the bar? And the entire club was on their way here, and not to her. She needed fucking help. Carla softly stepped away from behind me, and I reached for her right as a gun appeared next to Bruce's head.

I nearly shot my damn self in surprise, hand still on my gun, when it appeared, followed by Reaper's head next to him.

"Ah, the cavalry," Bruce sighed. "Too late! The damage is done. Viper and this stupid fucking club are over." Bruce was sneering at all of us as he slowly lowered his gun. I could hear Carla being ushered out of the house behind me as Pres entered nonchalantly through the front door.

"Good to see you again Rider," Bruce greeted. Refusing to address him as president was an ignorant, purposeful jab that he wouldn't be making ever again.

"I am damn sick of you trying to torch my damn club," Pres growled. Reaper had zip ties around Bruce's wrist now as Sniper, Rampage, and a few more brothers stepped into view. Damn, they were quiet!

"Pres, I have to go make sure Viper is okay," I rushed as I tried to pass him. He didn't stop me. I rushed back out the way I came, but stopped short when I saw Carla sitting in a patio chair on her front porch dabbing the tears away from her eyes.

"I am so sorry," I softened and crouched in front of her. Carla immediately grabbed my face and wrapped me in a motherly hug. When would the women in my life stop getting involved against their will? I had to worry about Bruce later.

"It's not your fault, boy," Carla reassured. "Viper, is that the woman your mother mentioned?" Christ, of course her and my mother had talked about my love life together, and of course that's what she was thinking about at this moment in time.

"Yes, and I hate to leave you, but I have to go make sure she's okay," I pulled back from our hug and tucked some of Carla's stray hairs behind her ear. That was when I noticed she was still just in her damn night gown.

"Someone get her a fucking coat!" I shouted. Pres had brought several prospects with him, that I was sure about, and I growled when a leather jacket was passed over my shoulder. "This is not thick enough to–"

My frustrated rant died on my lips when I turned to see Vivian behind me, holding her own jacket out to make sure Carla felt comfortable.

Bruised, beaten, and bloody, but she was still there. 

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I was planning on writing this in a totally different direction. Hope you guys liked it!