Mouser (Reapers MC Book 9) Read online

  Immediately, my eyes fall on the huge muscle of a man that we saw not too long ago. There’s a woman in bed with him and just as Cobra stands over his body, the woman’s eyes open right up. She starts to scream, but Cobra covers her mouth. “Get your ass out of this bed and run along. I don’t have an issue with you, sweetie.”

  Her hands are shaking but she nods, showing us she understands and quickly gets out of bed. I’m holding in my breath, wondering if her movements will cause Titan to move but he’s snoring away. At least, he’s snoring until Cobra’s sure to clear his throat. At the exact second he takes Titan’s gun off the bedside table.

  Titan’s eyes open and he stares up at the two of us. “Who the fuck are you two?”

  “Don’t recognize me?” Cobra sneers. I wanna ask him what the fuck he’s doing. We’re supposed to slit throats, not have full on discussions with these fuckers. I should’ve known if we found him this would somehow take a personal turn.

  “Why the fuck would I know a coward like you, sneaking in someone’s room in the middle of the night? You can’t even take down your enemy like a real man.” Titan laughs hysterically, shaking his head. “Never did I imagine this is the way I’d go out.”

  “What, in your bed with your throat slit, or killed by your son?” Cobra snarls back at the old bastard.

  Titan’s eyes go wide and he snickers. “Makes sense, you’re a coward just like your fuckin’ whore of a mother.” Cobra picks up his blade and jams it in the center of his father’s throat, pulling it out and slamming it back down. He continuously does this until I feel Titan’s blood splattering against my own face.

  Placing a hand on Cobra’s shoulder, he turns toward me looking much like a war ridden Viking. “Brother, he’s gone.”

  Cobra takes a couple breaths and nods. “You’re right. We need to move on to the others.” I start to walk in front of Cobra but he shoves me out of the way.

  “Oh no, don’t cut in front of me, prospect. You need to learn how shit is done by a seasoned veteran in the club. Watch and follow,” Cobra pulls the door to Titan’s cabin style room open and there stands the blonde woman, clad in lingerie, but she looks different now.

  Before there was fear in her eyes.

  Now I only see a cornered animal, and this animal has a gun in her hand.

  It all happens so fast and I don’t know what to do. Damon told us to not kill any women but she just shot Cobra and he’s bleeding out on the floor. Like a flash before my eyes I fire a shot off and she falls to the grass below her. Meanwhile, boots slam against the grass as they grow closer and I’m trying to help Cobra in whatever way I can.

  There’s so much fucking blood.

  Too much fucking blood.

  “What the fuck happened?!” Widow snarls at me as he approaches. I point to the woman on the ground. “Oh fuck, whore shot Cobra?”

  “Yeah and I can’t figure out where.” I reply. Rounds of bullets ring out from around us, alerting the rest of the Lucifer’s Heretics that we’re here.

  “So much for getting in and out quietly,” Widow snickers, “Not gonna lie, I like the hot and heavy version better.” He pulls out another one of his guns and turns, firing rounds off like he’s in a fuckin’ action movie. I grab onto Cobra’s cut and pull him behind the safety of the walls, continuing to search for wherever he’s been shot.

  That’s when I feel it, the blood’s coming out from his neck and I know this isn’t good. He was shot in one of the worst areas. Fuck! Everything happens in a blur as I take off my shirt and ball it up, applying it to where I feel the blood coming out.

  There’s no time to waste, so I act quickly and call Zane. I hope Damon doesn’t get pissed, but Zane will know if we have any contacts around here. We need a hail fucking Mary and a world full of luck if we’re going to save Cobra’s life.

  Looking at him right now, I don’t even know if he’s still alive.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Seventeen

  There is a life and there is death, and there are beauty and melancholy between

  ~Albert Camus

  Mouser

  Shots ring out in the background and yet the only thing that matters to me in this moment is talking to the national charter Prez, Zane. Since Damon is in the middle of a shootout with Widow right now, I don’t have the option to ask him what to do. So, I trusted my gut and I’m applying pressure to Cobra’s neck, praying it’s enough to save him until I can get an order.

  “Mouser, what’s wrong?” It’s odd how he knew this couldn’t have been a leisurely call.

  “Prez, we’re in a fuckin’ shootout right now. Cobra was shot in the neck. I don’t know what the fuck to do. I don’t know if we have any contacts down here.” I shoot my words out faster than the bullets being fired around me.

  “Whoa. Alright, calm down. What city and state are you in?” Zane asks, keeping his tone calm and collected. I don’t even know how the fuck he’s managing that when he must be freaking out too.

  “We’re just outside of Wichita, Kansas. In the Lucifer’s Heretics clubhouse. Prez, Cobra’s lost so much blood. I don’t know what to fuckin’ do.” I’m not a doctor. If I was, I’m sure I could’ve done something to save him right now, but I’ve got nothing.

  “Wichita . . . Wichita . . . fuck, Cheyenne! Alexa, isn’t Cheyenne there?!” I hear Alexa’s voice in the background reply with something but I’m not able to make it out. But I’m wondering what the fuck Zane is doing with Alexa since she’s Bull’s ol’ lady.

  “Yeah she just moved there last month,” Zane says, “Alexa is calling her right now. Can you send me your location via text? I’ll have Cheyenne get over there straight away.”

  “Yeah, I’ll send it over. Is Cheyenne a doctor, though? We need a doc. I don’t know if a simple nurse will be able to fix it. It’s bad, Zane. It’s so fuckin’ bad.” I mutter, looking down at Cobra in the darkness. I can see his face because there’s a lamp on in the corner of Titan’s room and he seems to be getting paler by the moment. It only makes me even more worried.

  “She’s in route, Mouser, breathe. Cheyenne is a very talented nurse practitioner, just like Sakura. He’ll be in great hands. All you need to do until she gets there is keep him alive. Keep pressure on that wound like your own life depends on it and call me after Cheyenne gets there. Got it?”

  “Yeah Prez, I got it.” I say, hanging up the phone I toss it on the floor next to me and realize the gunfire has slowed down and I don’t hear a thing anymore.

  “How’s our boy doin’?” Widow asks, crouching next to me.

  “I don’t fuckin’ know. Zane has a chick named Cheyenne coming to help us out. She’ll be here soon hopefully.”

  Widow doesn’t respond but I overhear him filling Damon in as he approaches. Women are screaming in the background and Widow is telling them to chill the fuck out.

  “Where the hell are they runnin’ off to like little pussy ass bitches?” Widow asks Damon.

  Damon clears his throat while his boots get closer to me. “There’s a rumor about a charter in North Carolina but nothing has been confirmed. If the rumor’s true, I’m betting they’re on their way to that clubhouse for some backup. It won’t do them any good. Everyone here will be long dead by then and I don’t even feel bad. This club has not only abused children and beat women, demeaning them in every way possible. They fuckin’ sell kids.”

  “They what?” Widow snarls.

  “They sell children to the highest bidders, specifically girls because they aren’t useful in their eyes. They’re vile fucks.” Damon tells him.

  I’m trying not to listen, doing my best to focus on Cobra but part of me needs a break from this. If I keep focusing on him too hard, I may lose my shit and end up loosening the pressure I have on his wound. “You okay, brother?” Damon asks, placing a hand on the back of my shoulder.

  “As okay as I’m gonna be,” I quickly respond, not trying to be rude, but damn shit is intense right now.

  “He said h
e was callin’ Zane while we were still dealin’ with those . . . ugh,” Widow grunts.

  “Alright, what did Zane say?” Damon asks.

  “Zane called a NP like Sakura named Cheyenne. Apparently, she just moved to the area and she’s a friend of the club or somethin’. Not really sure. I didn’t get the specifics, but if we’re lucky she can save Cobra’s life.”

  “Smart thinkin’ Mouser,” Damon commends me and places his hand over my blood-soaked shirt. “I’ve got him from here. Take a break. Hell, you look like you need to take a breather.”

  I stand up, staring down at my crimson red hands and can’t believe what this night has turned into. Widow walks out of the small room we’re in as headlights come across the area and I go out beside him. If it’s trouble, we need to be prepared. A long haired, tan looking brunette approaches us with a bag over her shoulder.

  “Please tell me you’re Cheyenne,” I call out to her.

  “No, I’m Mary fucking Poppins. Get out of my way, asshole.” She runs past us and goes into the room and Widow decides to stand guard at the door in case anyone else decides to show up. I kneel down on the floor next to Cheyenne and Damon and she’s making obviously displeased faces.

  “Will he be okay?” Damon asks.

  She looks up from staring down at Cobra and it makes me feel like she’s going to bitch slap him. “He’s been shot in the neck. I’m surprised he’s even still alive but you must’ve been doing at least one thing right tonight. I won’t make any promises, but I’ll try to save your guy. Now if you would please remove your hands, that would be great.” Cheyenne unzips her bag, puts on a pair of latex gloves and squirts some sort of liquid over the wound and grabs a headband with some sort of light on it, turning it on and looking down onto his neck. She grabs something else from the bag and it looks like a pair of tweezers, but I don’t think they’re called that. The word forceps keeps coming to my mind.

  “Alright. One of you is going to have to pull things out of my bag for me while I work on your guy. I can already tell you he was lucky as shit when it comes to where he was shot,” Cheyenne tells us as she puts the forceps inside the opening and searches for the bullet. Within a second she has a small round and pulls it out of his body, pours more of the liquid on it and looks to us. “How many rounds were fired?”

  “One, just one.”

  “Alright, I’m gonna stitch him up but this guy must have a guardian angel. The bullet went in above his clavicle and barely missed his external jugular. If it was a centimeter over your friend would be dead.”

  “He’s gonna be okay?” I ask, unable to believe it.

  “Did you not listen to anything I just said?” Cheyenne retorts.

  “Thank you, Cheyenne. Why did he go unconscious?” Damon asks.

  “It could be shock, the overall experience of being shot in the neck is terrifying. It’s likely he had an anxiety attack and his body just completely shut down as a way to protect him.”

  “Thank you so much for coming out here and helping us tonight. We’re indebted to you.” Damon goes on to tell her.

  “You’re welcome. I’m not a fan of what you guys stand for and whatever but, my brother tells me you’re some of the good guys and I had the pleasure of helping Alexa when she really needed someone so . . . I guess you can thank her and my brother for making me change my mind a little bit about y’all when it comes to my thoughts on bikers.”

  “Who’s your brother?” Damon asks her.

  “Boomer, from the Corrupt Kings MC in Wyoming.” Cheyenne replies. Ah, they’re newer allies to the Reapers MC. I think we only teamed up with them because we had the same common enemy at the time. Hopefully it sticks and we remain allies for a while.

  “I can’t thank you enough. When will Cobra be able to ride?” Damon gets straight down to business, causing Cheyenne to laugh.

  “Okay, buddy. Listen up, and listen up good. Your friend here is lucky to be alive and has some serious recovery to do over the next few days. He had a hole blown in his fucking neck and I’m going to stitch him up, but if you’re a persistent motherfucker and insist on him riding out tomorrow he’ll do something stupid and tear them. Then you have the problem of a gaping hole and possible infection. If you’d like to roll the dice regarding his life by all means take him home tomorrow, but if you want him to have a shot, give him five days to rest. I have an extra room at the place I’m renting and lucky for you my lease isn’t up for another week.”

  “Didn’t you just move here?” I question, knowing I heard Zane correctly.

  Cheyenne nods, “Yeah, I did, but I don’t like it here. So, your buddy gonna stay here and heal for a few days?”

  “Yes. Mouser, can you stay with Cobra for a couple days while Widow, Chaz and I head back home?” Damon asks me. Chaz, shit. I forgot he was even here with us. The guy is so good at blending in in whatever situation he’s gotten into. Like a fly on the fuckin’ wall.

  “Whatever you need me to do, Prez.”

  “Perfect. Let me get to stitching your buddy up and one of you can help me get him in the car afterwards. As soon as we get to my place we’ll set him up with an IV, antibiotics and pain killers.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  And little by little, she found courage for it all

  ~JH Hard

  Sakura

  Three days have passed since Mouser went out on the road with Cobra, Widow, Chaz and Damon. Widow and Damon got back midday yesterday and Damon told us at the clubhouse how Cobra was shot and Mouser stayed back in Kansas while he recovered from his wounds. He needed a few days to heal up before he could make the ride back here to Vegas, and even then, it would still take them longer than it did on the way up.

  The positive thing is that it seems like Cobra is going to be okay. I know his girl Izzy is going to freak when she finds out what’s happened. Izzy and I get along as well as Ivy and I do, so Damon asked me to be in the room when he tells Izzy what’s happened.

  She had a long day at the station working on her show and was shooting some commercials afterward, so she won’t be here for a little while. I called Mouser on the phone earlier this afternoon and we spoke for a few minutes. He told me Cobra seems to be doing better, but because of the pain he’s been out of it. Which would be accurate, especially if that Cheyenne woman doesn’t have a lot of pain medicines on her. Honestly, she could just be alternating Tylenol or Ibuprofen so he won’t become reliant on the pain medicine. If I were in her shoes, I’d probably be doing the same thing. Opioid addiction is such a huge problem here in the States from what I can tell.

  When we were chatting, Mouser did fill me in on why they left, what they did, and essentially how they were protecting me. It shouldn’t blow my mind how people can betray those they work with, yet it still does. I can’t figure out how honor and loyalty means nothing to some people, like that man Vinny who was working with the Heretics. It didn’t matter that the Reapers were good to him and paid him well for his services. Instead he wanted more and made the conscious choice to betray them. For what exactly? So he could get a quick payday? It’s sickening.

  “I appreciate you being here when I tell her.” Damon says, suddenly standing directly beside me. I didn’t even hear him come up to me, and he’s one of those guys who walks with determination. Basically, he’s loud. Annoyingly loud just like Widow. I heard those two were part of another MC before they patched into the Reapers, so I naturally assumed they picked that up from whoever they were with before.

  I’m standing in front of the small makeshift bar in the clubhouse and sip on my glass of ice water with lemon, nodding. “You know she’s been going insane for days. We should’ve told her something before now, and knowing she has to come here after work is only causing her more stress.”

  Damon runs his hand through his hair, “I know it is, and I’ll apologize to her for that but I didn’t see another option.”

  “I just gave you another option. If she’d found out before now but knew he was okay she
may be sleeping a little easier and less stressed.” I say, not that it matters because we can’t change the past.

  Since Cobra hasn’t really been with it the past couple days, it would’ve killed her not being able to communicate with him, so I do understand Damon’s reasoning for acting the way he did— even if I think it was messed up.

  “I can’t change it now. She’ll be here soon, and then the three of us will head into my office and we’ll chat about everything.”

  “Yeah. You said that Cheyenne woman has been taking good care of him?” Cheyenne is an ally, who isn’t a big fan of MCs from the sounds of it, even though her brother is in an MC himself.

  Damon chuckles, “Yeah, she literally moved to Wichita to get away from MCs. Ironic how she’s in the one place we needed her to be in the most.”

  “That’s some luck you have there,” I mutter.

  “Yeah, I don’t know if it was God, a higher power or whatever, but I’m grateful we aren’t burying a body.”

  “So am I,” I comment back to him.

  The door opens to the club and instantly I’m thinking it’s Izzy. Mentally preparing myself for the emotional wreck I think she’s going to be, I take a couple steps forward and then see Kat with her dark locks. Glancing up at the clock on the wall I realize Izzy won’t be here for a bit, so I take a seat next to Dixon on one of the couches and peer over at his phone.

  He’s on one of those dating apps. Or, maybe I should call it a fucking app. People in this day and age don’t know how to date, they just want to meet up and get laid. “What’re you doing?” I ask, staring at the beautiful Latina woman on his phone.

  He sighs, “Doin’ what I always do, gettin’ ready to make another damn mistake.”