Colt (Devil's Nightmare MC #10) - Lena Bourne Page 0,27
the tall, dry grass of the field surrounding the Sinner’s compound. Flashes of the night I almost died saving Brenda are trying to overpower my mind, but I’m struggling to keep them out. I can literally feel Blaze’s indignation of the two of us being given this menial task of staking out the back wall of the compound and making sure none of the Sinners approach from this side. Or cops for that matter, since we can’t be sure that the president and the men who died with him were the only snitches talking to the feds in that club.
Pointing out the fact that ten more of our brothers have this exact same task tonight didn’t put him in a better mood. We’re lying near the only door in the back wall. There’s a narrow path leading from the door straight across the field. It’s about wide enough for a big man on a big chopper to ride comfortably, and it comes out ends along a country road that connects to a highway. Me and Blaze and hidden in the tall grass on either side of it nearest the door, just far enough to be out of sight, but close enough to jump out and get rid of anyone trying to exit or enter through that door.
The rest of the brothers are scattered in the grass surrounding the wall. Our orders are to stay close to give each other backup should the need arise. As far as I know, no one is watching the entrance to this path from the country road. It’s obviously an important target, so I don’t know what Blaze is so pissed off about.
So far, no cry’s been raised and there has not been any kind of heightened police presence that we’ve been able to detect. The whole time that Ace was inside, getting cozy with the Sinners, we’ve been out here following around any and everyone that their president came in contact with. We also kept a real close eye on the cops.
It’s as quiet as the grave back here, not even the hissing of the grass can be heard since the wind has died down and the air isn’t moving. I can smell the dried-up earth, the lone flower among these dried up weeds and I hope to hell there aren’t too many rattlesnakes around here. But there probably are.
Up high in the sky, I can hear a rumbling like thunder, but the sky is a uniform dark blue, stars so bright they’re blinding. Helicopter? But they don’t go that high, I’d be able to see the lights. Thunder? I sincerely doubt it’s rained here in the last decade or two. A plane? That’s most likely.
The Knights are setting bombs.
It made me nauseous hearing that plan. I hate bombs. The least you can do before you kill someone is to look them in the eye. I wanted to ask if they plan on killing all the club whores along with the guys, but Blaze was onto me and gave me the death stare, which told me then and there that our long friendship would be over for good if I stuck my neck out on this. So I didn’t.
No harming women and children. That’s always been a rule in our club and as far as I know Cross has always enforced it. He wouldn’t make us a part of something that goes against it now. Right? I sure as fuck hope so.
The trouble with simple stakeouts like this one is that they’re boring as fuck and your mind wanders. Most of my jobs for the club so far have been stakeouts just like this, so I’ve gotten used to the boredom and learned how to keep it at bay. All my mental focus tricks, like keeping my mind clear of everything but the door I’m supposed to be watching, are failing me tonight.
The fact that my phone keeps buzzing with the motel’s number isn’t helping. It keeps lighting up in my pocket, and I want to pick up so bad I can taste it. The worst part is, I can’t turn off the phone because it’s the only way the others will be able to reach us as I’m the designated message relayer for our group. I don’t whether to call that an honor or punishment right now.
The hissing of the grass grows louder and louder, and there’s no accompanying wind to explain it. The sound is coming from the far end of the