Shot to Hell (Four Horsemen MC #7) Read Online Free Page B

good to go. You should be healed in a few weeks.”
    “Yup.” Though Steele seriously doubted the prognosis. He had a feeling this wound would never heal.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow, when you get back from your op, for another checkup.”
    “Speaking of, you better be on standby. I might have Coyote with me.” On the battlefield, Steele had learned about the power of positive thought, and he tried not to drown in all the negativity. “Tried” being the operative word.
    “Sure thing, brother.” His brother’s mouth creaked into a serial killer-like rickety smile. Duke thought Coyote was dead, and the bastard was humoring him.
    Steele marched out the door without another word. He wasn’t giving in until he saw the body, and tonight, he had the opportunity to make those sons of bitches pay.
    ***
    Several hours later, under the cover of darkness, Steele and Justice stood in the tree line near a dilapidated Victorian home. After parking the truck down the road and performing a perimeter check, they decided to approach the house. 
    It had a crack den sort of ambience.  
    Steele had met up with Justice at Inferno earlier in the evening, and they’d taken a cage from Perdition to Canyon City as instructed. The club used the trucks to make deliveries and the like. He hated riding in a cage, but they needed the element of surprise to confront the enemy, provided these bastards decided to show their ugly faces, of course.
    They’d driven to Canyon City in silence. Normally, he didn’t mind shootin’ the breeze, but he hadn’t much felt like it lately. Lord knew Justice was terse, so he hadn’t minded the quiet.
    The Victorian home had once belonged to rich people, but now it looked like the set of a horror movie. The house had survived all this time, and now it stood empty at the end of a dreary country lane outside the city limits. There were a good three or four miles between homes, so this would be the ideal place to stash a prisoner. No witnesses and not a lot of foot traffic.
    The front porch roof bowed in the middle, threatening to cave in any minute, and the windows were boarded up. The grass came up to Steele’s knees, and the mailbox was a rusted lump on the ground. He guessed some of the local teens had played mailbox baseball with it.
    Steele currently rented an apartment, but he’d dreamed of buying a house of his own…only less Nightmare on Elm Street than this house. Not a new house, though. He wanted to fix something older, with character. 
    Steele thought owning property would be a badge of honor, as if he’d made something of himself.  He’d grown up so poor he couldn’t even afford to pay attention. His mother had never made enough money to pay for her own place, and his father had drunk everything he’d earned until Steele’s mother had tossed him out on his whiskey-soaked ass.
    “Looks vacant.” Justice’s voice turned Steele’s attention back to the present.
    “Looks can be deceiving.”
    “If the Raptors were here, there’d be some signs of life—noise, lights. No point in goin’ in.” Justice seemed agitated. He kept shuffling his feet and checking his pockets.
    “You okay, man?”
    “Fine.”
    He doubted it but didn’t pursue the line of questioning. Even though it looked empty, something nasty might be waiting inside. “Regardless, we should check it out.”
    “Let’s get it over with then.”
    Flicking on a flashlight, Steele approached the place and stepped onto the front porch. The boards groaned and rattled beneath his feet. He cautiously made his way to the door, mindful of both his surroundings and the fragile wood beneath him. Given his luck lately, he’d fall through the floorboards and get punctured by rusty nails. Then he’d be forced to spend a couple hours with Duke as the bastard poked him with tetanus needles and sewed his ass together again. No thanks.
    Justice followed Steele. They treaded lightly all the way to the entrance. Justice leaned against