Chapter Twelve
Razor killed his motorcycle engine and dismounted. He took a good look at the rows of corn surrounding the small, dilapidated farmhouse. No sign of farm animals or anything living as far as Razor could see.
Terry said he’d find Vulture here, and Razor didn’t think Terry would waste his last words on a lie. It could be an ambush or trap, but Razor doubted it. After the incident at the hospital, word got out Rat had kicked Vulture out of the club. Rat said Vulture acted out of his own selfish interests, so the truce between their MCs still held.
Razor checked his gun. Satisfied he had a full clip, Razor checked the house first. The first and second floors proved empty, but in the kitchen, he saw a bedroll and unwashed plates and cups. Someone had recently been here all right.
He checked the barn next, wondering if this was a wild goose chase. Razor had an important event to go to later on. A man couldn’t very well just miss his own wedding day. He smiled at the memory of being kicked out of his room while the old ladies of the club fussed over Nat in her gown and veil.
Razor dropped his smile when he noticed someone was in the barn. He raised his gun. After Vulture shot him in the chest, he wasn’t about to let his guard down easily again. It took two whole weeks until the doctor discharged him from the hospital.
No strenuous activity, the doctor had warned, but Razor wanted, no needed to get this sorry task done. If Vulture escaped him again this time, then Nat would have to continue living the rest of her life scared that someday this asshole would come back for her.
Vulture sat slumped against a haystack, surrounded by empty bottles. He looked like shit, and Razor told him so. Vulture chuckled. It seemed he hadn’t taken a shower in days either. Vulture raised a half-full bottle at him, then gave him a mocking salute.
“Be done with it,” Vulture slurred. “I knew you’d come here eventually.”
“Heard Rat kicked your sorry ass out. I’m guessing he didn’t know you sent Terry to kill Nat,” Razor pointed out. He hunkered down, not worried. Vulture looked like a defeated man. There was no fight in him left.
“Rat was fond of Terry. He was Rat’s second cousin or something. I didn’t know that until later on,” Vulture confessed.
Shit, Razor thought. Oh, well. If Rat decided to come after him later on, then let the bastard try. Razor and his club would be ready for him.
“You shouldn’t have sent someone else to do your dirty job.” Razor stood back up and placed some distance between Vulture and him. He didn’t want to get any blood on his clothes. “Any last words?”
“Yeah.” Vulture stared at him, hate blazing in his bloodshot eyes. “I’ll see you and that bitch in hell.”
Razor shot him between the eyes. At this close a distance, he wouldn’t miss. He left Vulture in that barn. Razor would send a cleanup crew here later. For now, he had a more important task to attend to.
Razor returned to the compound just as the sun was beginning to set. He parked his Harley and entered through the kitchen, where Grizzly waited for him with his change of clothes. Razor changed into a stuffy white collared shirt and put on a tie. Over that, he wore his cut.
“How do I look?” he asked Grizzly.
“Like a man about to go the noose,” Grizzly joked. Razor was in such a good mood, he didn’t take offense. He elbowed Grizzly in the ribs.
“Everything’s ready,” King announced, entering the kitchen. “Priest’s been here for over an hour.”
King looked him up and down, then neared him. King fixed his tie. “Everything went as planned?”
“Yeah, the deed’s done,” Razor said.
“Good. Now go to your bride,” King said.
Razor emerged from the kitchen. Everyone was there in the bar area, his entire MC family. He wished his mom was here to see him, but he figured she’d be up there, watching him. Then he spotted his bride, looking resplendent in a simple but gorgeous A-line white wedding dress.
Nat seemed to have ditched the veil that was giving her trouble earlier that day. Razor decided he preferred her face bared like this, her gorgeous hair held up in an elaborate do. He couldn’t wait to undo her hair, let it fall free. Then he’d rip that dress to expose her sexy body to him.
Someone, Razor didn’t know who, managed to find a harpist who played the wedding march. Of course the priest was there, but he only saw Nat. She’d surprised him when she requested for a priest to oversee the ceremony.
Razor had said yes of course, because he couldn’t deny his woman anything. Once he reached her, he held her hands over his. Razor could barely hear the next words the priest uttered. He only cared when the priest got to the most important part.
“Richard Sawyer, do you take Natalie Rivers to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?”
“Hell yes,” Razor said. He looked deep into Nat’s eyes.
The priest repeated the same for Nat, and she smiled up at him, sweet and beautiful. “I do,” she whispered.
Razor cupped her cheek and kissed her long and hard when the priest said he could. Hoots and cheers erupted from their watching guests.
The rest of the evening passed by in a blur. Father Matthew stayed for a while for the food, then left. The crowd became a little rowdier after that. Razor and Nat cut the wedding cake, then they danced the night away.
“I didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” she murmured, gripping his arm as he guided her.
“Consider it one of my hidden talents,” he said, smiling down at the woman he loved. His old lady. His soul mate. “I have other talents in the bedroom as well.”
Her musical laugh automatically made Razor rock hard. “Oh, I know,” she said. Nat rose on tiptoe to kiss him on the mouth.
“Shall we head upstairs, milady?”
“Definitely,” she said. Nat yelped when he swung her in his arms and carried her upstairs. Their wedding night was going to be something to be remembered. Razor was going to make sure of that.