Lead (The Brazen Bulls MC, #8)

by Susan Fanetti

  Now he was here to kill a man. Since he was eighteen, he’d been killing men on this land. There were almost a dozen bodies buried out in his woods. Becker hadn’t killed most of those, but they’d been using his land for club disposal since Dane’s death. Most of the bodies were the direct result of Dane’s death and the end of the war with the Street Hounds, but a few others were club justice since then. A whole lot of lowlifes were fertilizing the fir trees and mushrooms out here.

  One big reason he’d never sell this land—or live on it.

  From the barn about twenty feet off, the muted sounds of a man shouting his lungs out around a thick gag wafted over the night breeze.

  “Sleeping Ugly’s awake, sounds like.” Gunner took the joint back and pulled deep on it.

  “How do you want to play this?” Rad asked. “Hard or fast?”

  Becker wanted the fucker dead, and he wanted it to hurt—his girl wanted it to hurt—but he also wanted to get back to the hospital.

  “Both. Let’s run an Everlast on him, then a quick kill.”

  Gunner laughed. “That’s awesome. Yes! I love that one!” He ashed off the end of the joint and tucked it away for later.

  Rad chuckled hoarsely. “You are a twisted fucker, Gun.”

  Gunner had coined the name of this particular method of torture for the workout gear it resembled: a heavy bag. They hung the target up by his bound hands and simply beat him until they were done—whether ‘done’ meant that they’d fatigued themselves, or gotten the information they need, or had killed the target, or had just gotten bored.

  They didn’t need a single word from this sweaty motherfucker, so Becker didn’t care when they stopped. They’d stop when they were done.

  “You want first or last, Prez?” Gunner asked.

  “First. I want him feeling every fucking blow I deal him.” Becker shrugged out of his kutte and pulled his t-shirt up from his back and over his head.

  He left his rings on.

  ~oOo~

  Becker flexed his aching hands and watched as Gargoyle and Wally brought Denny’s unconscious body down from the barn rafter. Rad had called in reinforcements to help with the disposal; all three men who’d run the Everlast were worn the fuck out, and there was still a kill to finish and the body to bury.

  The fresh summer air had been corrupted by the stench of blood and piss, vomit and shit. They’d worked him for two goddamn hours, taking turns, and still that asshole was alive. Most of his bones were broken, and his shoulders were horribly dislocated. He looked more like a badly butchered side of beef than a man, but he’d held onto his life like a fucking cockroach.

  So when he crumpled at last to the floor, his broken body no more than a heap of sticks in a skin sack, Becker went over and dropped his knee on his throat. He stayed there, calm and quiet, until the twitching stopped.

  Rad came over and offered a battered hand to help him back to his feet. “We got the cleanup, Prez. You go on back to your old lady.”

  Becker froze in the act of grabbing his t-shirt from the musty hay bale he’d dropped it on earlier. Your old lady.

  Was Sage his old lady?

  As of tonight, yeah, she was. He’d killed for her. Only once before had he ever killed for anyone other than the Bulls.

  She’d been family, too.

  ~oOo~

  “How is she?”

  At his whispered question, Willa stood up from the convertible chair. The room was dim; it was deep in the early morning hours now, and, like most of the hospital, Sage was sound asleep. She still looked terrible, but a bit better. Someone had finally washed the old blood from her face and neck, and her hair had been brushed.

  Someone. Willa had done it. Becker didn’t need to ask. Willa had taken care of his girl. His very young old lady.

  More than a day between the beating and when he’d found her, and she’d still had all that blood on her. He tried to imagine what that day had been like for her, but his mind went to a red haze before he could get very far. Why hadn’t she called him? Or one of the old ladies? Or anybody?

  Willa put her finger to her mouth and drew him back out of the room. In the brighter corridor, she said, “She’s doing okay. The surgery went quick and smooth. Everything should heal up without much change in her looks, except the wounds on her nose. Those will probably scar a bit.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “Well, that’s nice, Beck, but she might care what she looks like.”

  “Right. Sorry. What else?”

  “It’s a pretty bad concussion, and they did a scan of her brain and found signs of a bleed—but it looks like it was a small one that stopped on its own without creating pressure. Still, they’ll want to do a fresh scan in a month or so, and they’ll want her to take it very easy for a couple weeks. We’re working on a schedule for the old ladies to help you take care of her.”

  He’d only just realized Sage’s significance in his life and already the old ladies were in the game. But should she be home? Were they trying to shovel her out of here too fast, like they’d tried to do to Fitz? “If her brain was bleeding, shouldn’t she stay here? It doesn’t matter about insurance. I’ll pay.”

  Willa put her hands on his arms. “She doesn’t want to be here. If she takes it easy, she’ll be happier and more comfortable at home. This isn’t like Fitz, who’s had to do intensive therapy to get back to himself. She’s going to be fine.”

  Honestly, he’d be glad to get her home. “Even when shit’s going right in the club, I feel like I live half my life in this goddam place.” He kicked the corridor wall.

  Willa laughed. “Sweetheart, you are talking to the wrong person if you want sympathy for that. I do live half my life here. And you guys make it three-quarters.”

  He joined her with a laugh of his own. “Thank you for tonight. You don’t have to stay.”

  “Yeah, I do. Rad abandoned me here to go help you handle your business. But I wouldn’t be leaving, anyway. Simon and Deb are in the waiting room. Sammy’s spending the night with Jacinda and Apollo. Jenny’s got our boys. We’re here for the night. We don’t leave family alone. Right?”

  Had he been thinking just the night before that there was a space growing between him and his brothers? More touched than he could say, he kissed Willa’s cheek. “I love you, Willa.”

  She patted his chest. “I love you. Go sit with your girl.”

  When she headed to the waiting room, Becker pushed the door open and went into the room. He pulled the chair close to the bed and sat down. Picking up Sage’s small, cool, soft, hand, he studied the ink laced over its back and up around her fingers. He kissed the intricate medallion at the center.

  “Looks like you got my family now, too, shortcake. It’s a pretty good one.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Sage woke up in an afternoon sunbeam, caught in an eddy of air conditioning cool, sunlight warm, and cozy sleep. She lay for a moment and tried to hold onto the peace in that swirl of gentle sensations. Bed was her favorite place to be these days, and sleep her favorite thing to do.

  She’d been home for a couple of days, and Becker had barely left her side until this morning. Now, he was off doing Bulls things, and she’d been left in the care of old ladies, even though she’d assured him she didn’t need keepers. All she meant to do was sleep, anyway. But Leah had shown up before he’d left, and she’d spent the morning buzzing around like a nursemaid, tidying up and asking Sage if she needed anything.

  She needed a lot of things, but Leah couldn’t help her out with any of them. So she’d stayed in bed and tried to ignore the friendly company.

  Now needing to pee, she groaned softly—you didn’t realize how much you used your face bones to do literally everything until your face got broken and even groaning hurt—and eased her way up to her feet. She stood still for a minute, her palm flat on the nightstand, and waited until she was steady enough to walk. Three days after Denny had rearranged her face, the world still rocked and rolled
a little when she was on her feet, but she was getting used to it. It was kind of like a carnival ride.

  It was her mouth that hurt more than anything else, really. Apparently, a doctor had sliced her up in there and fixed her face with metal pins. Her face, nose, neck, and head all ached, but her mouth ... felt exactly as if somebody had dug through it to get to her skull.

  Her body’s aches and pains weren’t keeping her in bed, however. Becker treated her like she was made of spun glass, and wanted her to be sitting or reclining at all times, and yeah, she was tired and sore and dizzy at all times. But her mind, not her brain, was the real injury. Her mom had thrown her out. She’d seen what Denny had done, and she’d chosen him over her own daughter.

  She didn’t even know how to think about that. The knowledge stomped around inside her mind, unleashed, untamed, and tore everything up, like an angry bear through a campsite. It made it difficult to think about or focus on anything at all, or even remember the things that had happened since. Time and memory had been slippery these past few days.

  She padded out of Becker’s bedroom. There was commotion in the house, laughter and sweet talk, which didn’t belong at all, so she changed course and went into the living room, then followed the happy sounds into the kitchen.

  Leah was sitting on the floor near the kitchen table. Becker sat on the floor beside her. Their bodies were tilted toward each other so that their heads nearly touched. They were laughing quietly.

  The scene was too sweetly intimate to be anything other than romantic, and Sage’s heart broke at once. Right here, in the same house she was in? While they were supposed to be taking care of her?

  Neither had noticed her, and she opened her sore mouth, unsure what she’d say. Before she could, Becker moved, leaned a different way, and she saw fuzzy yellow fur in his lap. A sweet little head surged into view, trying to reach Becker’s face with a lapping tongue, and Becker and Leah both laughed again.

  Lemmy. He’d brought her puppy home. She couldn’t remember telling him about the pup; she’d wanted to, but everything was murky, and it was hard to talk. Still, she must have, and Becker had brought him home to her.

  The shift from heartbreak to heart’s ease was too violent to withstand. The floor twisted violently beneath her, and her head filled up with staticky thunder. When her knees buckled, Sage didn’t understand in time to try to save herself, and she collapsed, landing hard on her ass.

  That hurt her face, too.

  Becker was crouched at her side before she saw him move. “Hey, hey. You okay? You hurt? What’re you doin’ up?”

  “You brought Lemmy back.” All the things in her mouth, including her teeth, felt outsized and misplaced, and forming words around that mess was nearly impossible. She had no idea how much anyone could understand until they responded to her in some way.

  He slid his arms under her and picked her up from the floor. “Yeah. The vet called your phone this morning and said he was ready to come home. I didn’t know we had a dog.” He carried her to the sofa, and Leah was right behind him, holding the pup.

  Sage held out her arms, and Leah set Lemmy in her lap. After just these few days, he looked so much better—bright-eyed and happy and already filling out, clean and fresh and on the mend. And he remembered her! His little tail went crazy and he tried to climb up her chest, not seeming to care about the cast on his leg, to kiss her face. It hurt, but she didn’t care. This little boy meant just about everything now. “You brought him home.”

  Becker sat beside her and stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, sheltering her and Lemmy. “I had some trouble convincing the doc that it was okay to let him come away with me. Once she decided I was on the up and up, she told me about when you brought him in.” He ruffled the pup’s head. “This is who that bastard was hurting. You stopped him from beating the dog, and he beat you instead. Is that right?”

  The details were a bit muddled, but Sage thought that was right, so she nodded. Then she heard words Becker had said when he was carrying her from the kitchen. I didn’t know we had a dog. We.

  She tried to focus on his handsome face. “Can we keep him?”

  He smiled and leaned close. “I think we have to, seeing as you laid your life down for him, yeah?”

  “You like dogs?”

  “I do. I love all animals, and dogs in particular. Didn’t live a life with room for one until now.”

  “Until now?”

  “Yeah, until now. Until you. You’ll have to take care of him. And I’ll take care of you both.”

  Denny seemed to have knocked her tear ducts out of whack, because she hadn’t cried since, though she’d had the urge frequently and had plenty of reason. She wanted to cry now. When her swollen eyes stayed dry, she picked Lemmy up and tucked him under her chin. Then she leaned to Becker, and sighed as his arms came around her.

  “You named him Lemmy?” he asked quietly.

  “Yeah.”

  His chuckle shook her face a bit, but she didn’t mind. “Suits him. He’s a tough little fucker.” She felt his lips on the top of her head as he added in an even quieter whisper, “So are you, shortcake. Tough as they come.”

  “I love you, Beck. Thank you.”

  His head dropped so his cheek brushed hers—lightly, gently, without hurting. “I love you.”

  A floorboard creaked, and Sage opened her eyes. Leah was walking quietly back to the kitchen.

  Sage had forgotten she was even there.

  ~oOo~

  Becker set Lemmy in the middle of the bed. The puppy who had moments ago been keening with loneliness and grief, alone in his big, beautiful new crate in the kitchen, stumble-bumbled his gimpy self up to Sage’s pillows and plopped his ass down. He slurped the side of her face, and his tail thumped happily.

  Sage noticed that the cone collar Lemmy despised hadn’t come from the kitchen with them. Becker was an easy mark.

  With a sigh that stuttered amusement, the mark in question got back into bed and patted Lemmy’s fuzzy behind. “You know, the doc thinks he’s gonna get big, maybe close to a hundred pounds. If he won’t sleep on the floor, we’re gonna need a bigger bed.”

  The angry bear was still growling and snarling in her head, but having Lemmy home—and understanding that they were both really home here, with Becker—had gotten a chain around its neck. Now it just sat in the corner and roared, pulling her attention away at odd moments to remind her that her own mother had betrayed her.

  But she and the pup were going to be okay. Becker was going to take care of them both. He’d even just brought Lemmy into their bed, after insisting all day that dogs didn’t belong in beds, and after going to the pet store and coming back with a giant crate and enough pads and blankets and toys to turn that crate into a puppy palace.

  Sage rolled to her side and pulled Lemmy close. He moaned sleepily and settled in. “She really thinks he’s gonna get big? But he’s so scrawny, and he’s already half grown.”

  Becker shook his head. “She said once she got a chance to get a good look, he’s a lot younger than she first thought. She thinks now only two months or so.”

  “Two months! But he should still be with his mom, then. Shouldn’t he?” She wasn’t sure; she hadn’t had a pet since she was little, and didn’t know many details about their lives.

  One of her mom’s boyfriends had given her a kitten when she was seven. And then, a few months later, while he’d been raging at her mom, Duchess had made the unfortunate mistake of crossing into his sightline, and he’d snapped her neck. Thereafter, whenever one of her mom’s great loves tried to bribe Sage with a live present, she took it to the shelter at her first chance.

  So she didn’t have a lot of experience with animals. But two months old seemed young to be without a mom.

  Becker stretched out on his side, facing them, and watched Lemmy fall asleep. “I think a stray doesn’t get to choose when he has a mom and when he doesn’t.”

  “I guess that makes me a stray, too.”
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  His hand cupped her head and smoothed gently over her hair. “No, honey. You have a family. So does he. That’s what this is.”

  ~oOo~

  Becker hadn’t wanted her to go back for her things at all. Actually, he’d have said that he wouldn’t let her go back for her things, which was not the way it was going to work between them. But she’d let him keep that delusion for a couple weeks, until she felt almost back to normal, because she didn’t want to face her mother while she was weak. While she’d looked like a battered woman.

  He’d wanted to go for her things himself, but she didn’t want that at all. Not that she didn’t trust him, but he had killed for her already, and he was so angry with her mother that his hands shook when they talked about her for more than a minute.

  She was angry, too, but she didn’t want her mother hurt, even by accident. So she’d let him think she didn’t care about anything she’d left there, until she’d been ready to go herself.

  Not on her own—she wanted Becker with her. If she looked hard at herself, she’d see some fear mixed in with her anger and hurt. The site of all her greatest pain was that ugly, rundown house. And it was her mother, too. She hadn’t wanted to face either alone.

  Now that she was in the house, she was glad for Becker’s big, glowering presence. He was a shield between Sage and the howling banshee in the hallway.

  “WHERE IS HE? WHAT DID YOU DO? I KNOW YOU KNOW WHERE HE IS!”

  Sage tried to focus on stuffing trash bags with her things, but she heard blows land and turned to see Becker, his jaw set like a steel trap, standing rigid while her mother whaled on his back. He let her hit and slap and did nothing but make himself as big and immovable as he could.

  “LEAVE HIM ALONE, MOTHER!” she yelled over the shrieking.

  “FUCK YOU, SAGE! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”

  “Just get this done, honey,” Becker said. His voice was low and steady, pushed through clenched teeth, but she heard him with perfect clarity and sped up her pace.

  As expected, Denny had gone through everything, and her room had looked like the Bin after an after-Christmas sale. Her drawers had been pulled out and upended, her closet spilled most of its contents onto the floor, her little plastic bins of cheap jewelry were scattered across the old door she used as a desk.