Bound by the Don(35)

A little kernel of panic erupted at the direction of his wayward thoughts and he forced his mind back to the task at hand. He'd been at the clubhouse all night and well into the morning trying to track out Finn and his crew's movements when an S.O.S. text had come in from Harlow.



It had just said that there was something he needed to see. And that it was urgent. Whatever the hell that meant. Jackrabbit thought. Harlow had a tendency towards the dramatic but for as long as he'd know the man, he'd been spot on about all his hunches and gut instincts.                       
       
           



       



Jackrabbit saw the mile marker that Harlow had mentioned in the text and pulled off the road towards the shoulder, trying to tear his mind from thoughts of Rachael and the baby to focus on whatever new problem had popped up. It seemed like there was a new one every day and they all seemed to revolve around the same damn person. Finn. He just prayed that this one would be different.



He stopped the engine, threw down the kickstand and looked around the empty landscape in confusion. This was the spot Harlow had told him but all he saw was a few scattered trees and a rocky outcropping that edged the highway shoulder.



Fighting down his own irritation, Jackrabbit pulled out his cell phone and was about to call Harlow to demand a fucking explanation when he saw it. The drops of blood. They were already starting to dry under the hot Texas sun but the dark red was unmistakable.



The arid landscape, the blood soaking into the dry ground, suddenly he was transported back somewhere else entirely and somewhere he never wanted to be again. Back to the war. Back to the midst of the smoke and exposions. Back to the blood as bullets and shrapnel ripped through flesh and bone.



He stood there for a long moment, frozen on the outside but inside he was pure chaos as he fought to drag himself back to reality. He wasn't in the war anymore. But it sure as hell did look like someone was trying to bring it back to his doorstep.



Cursing in his head, Jackrabbit left his bike parked where it was on the side of the road and followed the trail of blood towards the rocky outcrop. It wasn't until he was closer that he heard a muffled grunt of pain and then he was sprinting forward, concern furrowing his brows as he ran.



"Fuck. What the fuck happened?" Jackrabbit said as he rounded the edge of the large boulder. He saw two of his Roadburners. One was lying on the ground, propped against the rocks and grimacing in pain and other was Harlow. His second in command was crouched over the other man, holding a dirty bandage to the other's bleeding shoulder.



Harlow glanced up at Jackrabbit's gruff question.



"I'm not going to ask again, Harlow. What the fuck happened here?" Jackrabbit's jaw clenched together so tightly he could barely form the words.



Harlow just gave him a calm look and a small shrug. "Not totally sure boss. One minute we were riding and the next … "



"Gun shots." The other man, Jones, groaned from where he was laying on the ground and Jackrabbit could hear the agony in his voice. "Gun shots from that ridge." He nodded several yards away and Jackrabbit squinted, then his eyes widened in surprise.



"That's some distance to take a few pot shots at guys on motorcycles." Jackrabbit mumbled, suddenly uneasy. He didn't know many who could attempt and make a shot like that. In fact, he only knew one: Finn.



"It's gotta be Finn." Harlow said and Jackrabbit just nodded his head.



"I know."



"It was a warning." Harlow continued as if he hadn't even said anything.



"A warning?" Jackrabbit snapped. "He talked to you?"



"No, but one of his men did." The man's solemn face grew even more haggard looking, "He's back. And he's coming after members of the Roadburners."



"Shit." Jackrabbit bit of the curse, casting a paranoid stare out over the horizon line. There was little chance that Finn was still there. But what surprised him most was the first thought that ran through his head at Harlow's news. It wasn't the Roadburners, which he knew it should be.



It was Rachael. All Rachael, and the realization that she might be in danger. Especially if Finn finds out that she's pregnant with his child.



It wasn't exactly a secret to the crew after Rachael's outburst at the clubhouse the night she came to tell him. Damn it. This was the last thing he needed. Another complication. But inside he wasn't thinking of her as a complication. Inside he was terrified that she might get hurt because of him, that their baby might get hurt because of him. He'd never be able to live with himself if something happened to them.



Jackrabbit's nerves were on high alert and that spot in the middle of his shoulder blades started to itch as if he could feel a target painted on his back already. They couldn't stay out in the open like this. It was too dangerous.



"Come on, Harlow. Let's get him up. We need to get the fuck out of here." Jackrabbit knelt down beside the injured man. "You think you can ride with that bum shoulder? The club house isn't that far. We can get you patched up there."



Jones gritted his teeth before he nodded stiffly. "Yeah, boss, I think so."                       
       
           



       



"Good. Then let's get the hell out of here. I don't want to be caught out in the open like a bunch of fucking sitting ducks just waiting to get picked off. Harlow, give me a hand."



Harlow gave the area one last sweeping glance and said. "Yeah, boss."



With Jackrabbit on one side and Harlow on the other, they helped Jones up to his feet and walked over to where the two men's bikes had been quickly stashed behind a hedge of shrubs.



Quickly, Jackrabbit took the makeshift bandage that was already starting to dry with Jones' blood under the hot Texas sun and made some readjustments to it. The wound didn't look too bad. The bullet had grazed the flesh but otherwise left no other marks. It was too clean to be an accident.



Jackrabbit shot another searching glance over the barren landscape. There was nothing there but rocks and a few shrubby trees. He knew there was no one else out there, just like he knew that Finn could have killed them both if he'd wanted to. Harlow was right. This had been a warning shot. The real question was: when will warning shots turn to killing shots?



His mind struggled with the question as he helped the man on his bike, making sure he could ride on his own before nodding for Harlow to do the same.



"Back to the clubhouse. Now." Jackrabbit's voice was low and hoarse. He caught the worried looks on the other two men's faces and knew he had to appear composed. But there was not a damn thing he could do about the nerves eating him alive.



"Well, what the hell are you waiting for, the fucking light to change? Go! Ride!" Jackrabbit growled the words as he started his own bike, the sound of the engine roaring through the air before taking off.



He didn't look behind him to see if the other two men were following. He could hear the sound of their bikes catching up to his on the otherwise empty road as they flew down the highway, all three anxious to get out from the open.



His thoughts ran circles around his head. He knew the men were worried. Hell, he was worried too. But as the new president of the motorcycle club, the last thing he needed was for them to lose confidence in him.



They made the ride back to the clubhouse in record time. All of them were feeling that itchy feeling now, the one that makes the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Jackrabbit could see it in the way the other two kept throwing looks over their shoulder, some at him and some at the surrounding countryside.



None of them relaxed until they were pulling into the cracked parking lot in front of the Roadburners club and even then Harlow kept glancing furtively around every corner and every shadow as they parked their bikes and walked to the entrance.



Jackrabbit opened the door and as soon as he walked in he could feel the tension choking all the oxygen out of the room. Apparently, news travelled fast. Somehow they already knew about the attack, if not the details, and they knew Finn was behind it.



"Well, fuck." Jackrabbit sighed quietly as the conversation dropped and he noticed the sideways looks that were sent his way. It was obvious what they'd been talking about. The problem with Finn, and him.



Jackrabbit knew he needed to act, and fast. Distrust was like a disease and he couldn't allow it to spread. Not now, not after he'd just started, and especially not with the threat of Finn hanging over all their heads like a fucking hangman's noose. The Roadburners needed a leader now more than ever, and damn it, Jackrabbit was going to be that leader come hell or high water.



He barely paused as he walked all the way into the main bar of the clubhouse, shoving a big biker aside as he jumped up onto one of the worn wooden tables that littered the warehouse looking space.



Jackrabbit raised his hands and after a moment, a hushed silence fell over the clubhouse. All eyes turned towards him. He looked out over the crowd, making eye contact with each and every single member of the crew that was there. Some looked away guiltily. Some stared right back, the light of challenge gleaming in their gazes.