As I turn into the hospital parking lot, I make a decision to see the club through this mission. I silently vow to help them bring down Yankovich, but when it’s over, when that cocksucker is dead and buried, I’m out of here.
I’m gone.
I’ll go back to roaming the world, waiting for my penance.
Parking the van, I kill the engine and turn to Cobra.
“You’re coming in?” he asks as I blow out a strangled breath and swipe a hand down my face.
“Yeah, man, I think I need a dose of your angel too,” I rasp. “Been dancing with the devil over a week and I’m starting to question my sanity. You mind sharing your sunshine with me?”
“She is sunshine, isn’t she?”
“Don’t tell Jack, the bastard thinks he trademarked that with Reina, but yeah, your little girl is most definitely sunshine.”
Agreeing with me, he smiles and leads the way into the hospital, straight to the day care center where we spot her playing with blocks. I watch the little girl in amazement as she plays and her dad signs her out early.
Too bad responsibilities aren’t in the cards for me. I don’t think I’d mind a little human to love and protect; my own piece of heaven on earth.
I watch from the window as Cobra interacts with his girl. Her big blue eyes light up the minute they spot him and it’s beautiful.
Those eyes are stunning and oddly familiar.
Like I’ve seen them before in someone else.
But I know I haven’t ever seen anything that pure.
Not in this lifetime.
Not ever.
“There she is,” I say, pushing off the wall. “How’s my favorite gal?”
Cobra places her down on her feet and she runs to me. A grin spreads across my face as I hold out my hand and she gives it a high five. Me and the little one got acquainted the night that shit went down with Gina. Aside from the dirty diaper, we got along just great and I taught her the fine art of a deck of cards.
“Cards!”
“Sorry, babe, I left my cards back home,” I reply, dropping down on a knee to make us eye level. “You think we can still hang out?”
Spotting the pink teddy bear in her hand, I point to it.
“Who’s this?”
“Teddy,” she says, giving her bear a tight squeeze.
“Oh no, are you trading me in for Teddy?” I ask her, holding out my hand.
Tucking her bear under one arm, she places her hand in mine and drags me down the corridor. Glancing over my shoulder at Cobra, I wiggle my eyebrows and grin.
“She loves me,” I brag.
“Listen, I’m going to run upstairs and tell Celeste I signed her out. There’s an ice cream truck parked out front, get her an ice cream cone and I’ll meet you down there,” he instructs, bending to plant a kiss on her forehead.
Responsibilities.
They have a way of creeping into your life even when you’re trying your damnedest to avoid them. Sometimes we have to take a step back and trust fate. Sometimes we simply concede to responsibilities and welcome them because they come wrapped up in a pint size package full of giggles.
“I’m calling godfather to the next one,” I retort, because if you can’t beat them…fucking join them. “Come on, girl, Uncle Deuce’s got you.”
“Five minutes,” Cobra calls to us as we walk hand in hand down the corridor to the bank of elevators. Enthralled by the little girl squeezing my hand, I wave my brother off and ask her what her favorite flavor is. First, she tells me it’s strawberry, then she changes it to vanilla and finally she decides she loves them all. When we get to the lobby, she decides she wants chocolate with rainbow sprinkles. We step into the sunlight and make our way toward the ice cream truck. I expect her to change her mind again, but when it’s our turn she still wants the chocolate cone. I order her the cone and a strawberry and vanilla twist too, in case she wants some of her other favorites.
“How much do I owe you?” I ask the guy as I hand Skylar the chocolate cone.
“Five bucks,” he replies and turns around to make the second cone.
Letting go of Skylar’s hand, I dig into my pocket for some cash as the teddy bear falls from under her arm.
“It’s okay, I’ll get it,” I tell her as I flip through my bills, pulling out a twenty.
Tires screech across the curb as the wind picks up and blows the money out of my hand. I watch the money skip along the concrete before diverting my eyes to the van as it comes to a complete stop.
In an instant, everything changes.
Quickly, I spin around to grab Skylar, but I’m already too late.
All that’s left is the teddy bear and her barely eaten ice cream cone.
“SKYLAR!”
“Lights out motherfucker,” someone whispers into my ear as a blunt object slams into my head and everything fades to black.
One instant.
A single moment in time.
That’s all it takes for the sunshine to disappear.
-Eight-
ALLY
Knowing no one will save me, that I’ve been left here to rot, I angrily tug at the cuff binding me to the radiator. The metal scrapes against my wrist and I welcome the burning sensation as my raw skin bleeds.
I crave the pain.
I need it to take my mind off the withdrawals.
Sweat covers every inch of my body as I curl into a fetal position and silently beg for the pain in my abdomen to subside. I don’t know if it’s been days or hours since Deuce gave me that little hit in the office, but my body is shutting down.
Suddenly, I hear noises and I try to decipher if my mind is playing games with me. The yelling sounds closer and the doorknob rattles. I watch as it swings open and Rush stalks over with a crazed look in his eye.
“Shit, what the fuck did you do?” he growls as he turns my wrist over and fits the key into the handcuffs.
I don’t answer him. Instead, I watch him free me and pull off a bandana from his head and tie it around my wrist.
“Snap out of it, Ally, I need you to focus. We gotta get out of here,” he orders, forcing me to stand on my unsteady limbs. Pulling his gun from his pants, he throws his arm around my waist and holds me up against him. Leading me out of my room with his gun cocked high, he drags me into the hallway.
“They’re going to kill me,” he says quietly.
We reach the common room and my eyes widen when I notice Bas and Needles standing in front of us with their guns aimed at both me and Rush.
“Game’s over, Rush,” Bas sneers.
“The fuck it is. I say when it’s over,” Rush bites back, snorting the excess residue lingering on his top lip. “Now stand the fuck down or I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”
“Do it,” Bas taunts.
“Do it and I’ll kill that rancid bitch on your arm,” Needles threatens.
“Rush,” I whimper.
“Shut up!”
“What’s it going to be Rush? There ain’t no way out,” Bas tells him as the doors barrel open and three prospects stumble in holding up a badly beaten man. I look to Rush and watch as the wicked smile spreads across his face. Bas and Needles turn to the prospects and we all watch as one grabs a fistful of the hostage’s hair, tugging back to reveal his badly bruised and bloodied face.
A gasp escapes the back of my throat.
“That’ll teach them motherfuckers to fuck with me,” Rush says proudly. “Now finish him off.”
“There’s a problem,” one of the prospects says, turning toward the door.
“You got more than one,” Bas comments. “You said he’s one of Jack Parrish’s guys, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, so what?” Rush calls.
“Man, I don’t even have to kill you, he’s going to light your ass on fire,” Bas retorts.
The door storms open and another prospect walks in holding a child. I blink to make sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me, but there she is, a beautiful little girl with a
mass of blonde curls and fright in her big blue eyes.
I push free from Rush and tear my eyes away from the child to look at him.
“What did you do?” I shriek, fighting for strength.
“You ordered us to grab Deuce, well he had a kid with him,” the prospect explains.
“You fucking stole a kid?” Needles shouts, the gun flailing in his hand.
“Everyone put down your fucking guns,” Bas orders, staring at the little girl with the pink dress. My eyes dart back to her, noting she doesn’t appear harmed but most definitely is scared. I was much older than her when I was taken but I know that feeling. I know she wants her mommy more than anything.
“I like your sneakers,” I murmur as my feet take the lead and bring me closer to her. “It’s okay,” I assure her when I touch the pink shoe laces on her black and white converse sneakers. “I’m Ally.”
“You’ve lost your fucking mind, Rush,” Bas grunts. “We got to give her back.”
“You just created a fucking mess for this club,” Needles adds. “We’re not fucking kidnappers, motherfucker.”
“Fuck all of you,” Rush shouts, lifting the barrel of his gun to the ceiling. I reach for the little girl and tuck her against me as he fires three bullets into the ceiling. Deuce stirs across from me, fighting to open his eyes and manages only one.
“Let her go,” he stammers, spitting blood through his teeth.
“Take Ally and the kid and put them in the van,” Rush orders one of the prospects, causing me to spin around and meet his crazed gaze.
“Rush, we can’t take her,” I argue as the prospect wraps his hand tightly around my arm. I look around the room, waiting for Bas or Needles, someone to stop him, but they all just watch as Rush loses his grip with reality.
“Deucey,” the little girl cries, holding out her arms for him.
“It’s okay, Skylar, everything’s okay,” he stammers, forcing the less swollen eye to open and peer back at me.
“Ally, baby, listen to me,” Rush stutters. “I’m going to fix this,” he swears, forcing my attention back to him. “We’ll get away from here, we’ll go somewhere where no one can find us. We’ll take the kid too. You want kids, don’t you?”
“You son of a bitch,” Deuce growls. “She’s got a fucking family!”
“We’ll be her new family,” Rush interjects, eyes on me. “Look at her, Ally, she’s a pretty little thing. She can make you happy, make you forget.”
“Rush, you can’t take the fucking kid,” Bas hollers.
“He’s right. If you leave here with that kid, you’re done. Parrish won’t let you live,” Needles adds.
Rush lifts his head, stares over my shoulder at Needles and chuckles.
“Parrish can’t stop me.”
“Then you better hope we can’t either,” Needles replies. “Because we’re not letting you out of here with the kid,” he adds, pulling back the safety on his gun.
Deuce wriggles around, groaning as he tries to break free from the confines of the chains wrapped around him.
“Let her fucking go!”
My eyes find his and my breath catches as he glares at me.
“Proud of yourself?”
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” I murmur, tears sting my eyes and when I blink they fall freely.
Rush raises his gun, reaches behind him for another and then points both of them at the men behind me.
“Get her and the kid in the van!”
“No,” I cry as the prospect pulls me toward the door. The little girl in my arms clings to me and cries for her mommy as Rush fires away. Her tiny body trembles with each shot fired and before I realize what I’m doing, I run toward the van and away from the massacre.
The prospect slams the doors shut and I fight back the memories of the last time I was thrown into the back of a van. I can almost feel the handkerchief being shoved in my mouth and the helmet shoved over my head as they bound my hands behind me with zip ties.
“I want my mommy,” the little girl cries, bringing me back to the present.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, hugging her to my chest. I glance down at the girl in my arms.
Skylar.
Deuce called her Skylar.
“Is your name Skylar?”
She nods.
“That’s a really pretty name,” I rasp, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand.
Closing my eyes, I block out the gunfire and fight off my recall of Rush’s words. I know better than anyone, you can’t change the mind of a sociopath. This is Skylar’s life now. She won’t ever see her parents again and the only life she’s ever known is now over.
This perfect child is now a victim.
The difference between me and her is that she is young enough to forget this. The nightmares won’t last. She’s young enough to adapt to her new life and eventually it will be her normal. She’ll grow up and forget her parents. All she’ll know is me and Rush.
We’ll be her family.
We’ll be the people she calls mom and dad.
I can do that. I can make her feel safe. I can give her everything I wished someone gave me when I lost my life.
“It’s okay,” I chant over and over. “It’s okay.
A moment later the doors open again and the stench of gunpowder fills the van as the prospects drag Deuce’s body beside me. He’s covered in blood and groans when they drop him down against the dirty floor of the van. Rocking Skylar in my arms, I turn so she can’t see how badly he’s been injured and continue to whisper in her ear.
“It’s okay,” I murmur. “You’re safe, sweet girl,” I promise as my vision blurs.
“Oh no,” I moan as the withdrawal symptoms threaten to drag me down. I focus on the unconscious man beside me as sweat beads across my skin. My arms fall from around Skylar as my eyes suddenly feel too heavy to remain open.
Skylar whimpers.
The gunshots die.
The engine revs.
Men shout.
Tires screech.
Gone.
Deuce.
Skylar.
Me.
We’re gone without a trace.
-Nine-
DEUCE
Raised voices sound nearby, waking me from my semiconscious state. Feeling pain throughout my body, I groan and struggle to open my swollen eyes. As I manage to open one, everything comes flooding back to me, hitting me like a Mack truck and panic surges through me as I fear for Cobra’s little girl.
“Skylar,” I shout against the darkness.
No one responds, but the hollering that woke me comes to a pause. Knowing I have that cocksucker Rush’s attention or at least the attention of his goons, I ball my chained fists, slam them against the chair they’re bound to and deliver a warning.
“You’re a dead man, motherfucker. Forget me, if you think Parrish will let you get away with taking Cobra’s girl you’ve lost your fucking mind.”
I strain my ears to listen for a response but all I hear are Skylar’s cries. Helpless and fearing the worst, I release a stream of curses as I try to break free. I push my weight forward and the legs of the chair scrape against the wooden floorboards, moving me a couple of inches from where I was.
It’s no use.
My hands are tied, my ankles shackled. Even if I make it to the door, what the fuck am I supposed to do?
I can’t save Skylar. I can only pray her father does. It’s almost comical to think a man who sits at Satan’s table is asking God for a favor. About to send up an amen, I hear the bitch who caused this whole fucking nightmare scream. Anger boils in my veins as she continues to shoot off at the mouth. Resolving that I don’t give a fuck what she’s crying about, that she’s probably begging for poison, I ignore her and divert my eyes away from the door.
Light streams from behind me, temporarily blinding me. Listening closely, I notice there are no sounds of the city surrounding me and it’s safe to assume the light streaming toward the window is
radiating off the headlights of a car.
My eyes adjust to the light and I glance around the room, trying to make out where this fucking bastard is holding us. I don’t get to look at much as my entire body freezes when my gaze locks on the wall in front of me. Lined with newspaper clippings and photographs, the entire wall is a shrine to one face.
One pair of soulless eyes.
Eyes that call to the darkest part of my soul, the part I thought died the day Chelsea did.
Realizing the crazy bastard is obsessed with Ally, I concede she isn’t just some club whore and focus on the drawing centered on the wall. A younger version of the girl with blue eyes, an unscarred version stares back at me.
She was pretty.
Real fucking pretty for a kid, and her smile, her smile was unforgettable.
Alongside the drawing of the young girl is another one. The woman portrayed in charcoal was meant to resemble the one screaming in the next room, but life had played her dirty. A shame too because judging by the sketch, Ally could’ve been a knockout if she hadn’t become a fuck up.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, trying to make sense of it all. My head hollers for me to mind my business, to forget the bitch who ran her mouth and put me in these chains. I tell myself she’s not my concern, she’s just a troll who isn’t worth my spit. But my conscious wages a war, daring me to read beyond the black and white lines and uncover the gray areas everyone seemed to ignore. Curiously, I silence the voice in my head and allow myself to wonder what happened to the young girl in the drawing. Peeling my gaze away from the photographs, I read the headlines.
Twin missing: Gone without a trace.
Fourteen-year-old girl abducted outside a pizzeria.
Family offers reward.
NYPD closes case on Alexandria Richardson.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shake my head and look back at the drawings. Cobra’s voice sounds in my head as my mind flashes back to the day he revealed his truth to the club. Remembering the grief that poured from his eyes and the desperation laced with his words as he relived his past, sharing the tragedy that took his twin sister from him and left his family destroyed.
The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition Page 70