Pawn

by Kerri Ann

  Slipping around the side of the low brick building, we arrive at the front where I’ve entered a few times. The area is packed full of bikes, with the majority of the guys in their ‘church.’ I’m alone. There are a few cars, of which I assume are the ladies’, but no one loitering around.

  There’s a truck and three men whom are suited identically beside darkened SUVs. DEA courses their vests. Their tactical. Each of them adorned in clothing that you’d assume of their position. With guns drawn, stark, unfeeling stares, and three Broken Bows members on their knees before them, the officers hold all the power. One of them is the prospect I drank with last night. Two are men that I hadn’t met yet but had seen around. Again, prospect is plastered against the rocker on their cuts. With their hands crossed on their heads, they’re at a serious disadvantage to the military precision of the heavily armed agents.

  “We’re ready, sir. Where’s Scarlet?” One of the agents speaks up, standing over the prospect.

  “She won’t be joining us. She reached the end of her usefulness.”

  “Fuckin’ pigs,” One of the prospects, Sinew, mutters darkly before the agent smacks him across the head with the butt of the gun, knocking him unconscious.

  Looking at the passed-out body, the agent sneers. “Shut the fuck up. You’re just another robot towing the company line.” He mocks him, “We’re bad assholes. It’s bullshit, kid. You haven’t done enough wrong in your life to earn that attitude. You can’t even grow a beard yet. Pussy.” Laughing, he and his agent buddies smile and laugh at the ribbing that the poor unconscious Sinew takes.

  “Okay, let’s go, boys. Oubliette, after you, my dear.” King motions, directing me to an awaiting blacked-out SUV.

  Popping the door, King gives me no choice. I’ve seen Scarlet and his resolve to show me how dangerous he can be. How deep his disregard for life runs. I always thought the government, the police, and people of power were held to higher standards. That life was precious.

  Not so.

  Sliding across the seat, I move to exit out the other side, as King isn’t quite in yet. Reaching the far seat, the door pops. The agent that clocked Sinew climbs in. Staying in the middle, another man climbs in on the other side.

  Peeking his head within, King chirps, “You know where to go. We have a date that we’re late for as it is. He never likes being made to wait, Johnson.”

  The man behind the wheel shifts the truck into gear with a decisive “Yes, sir.”

  Pulling out of the Broken Bows compound, I look back. Lying on the ground is Sinew and the other men. I’m stuck once more where I don’t wish to be.

  I’m squeezed between two large men with guns.

  This grand adventure to hell and back is becoming increasingly worse.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Busta

  “Here’s the evidence. What do you mean you can’t do anything?” I’m fucking pissed. This was our last chance to sideline King legally.

  Leaving the clubhouse in a rush, taking all of our evidence with us, we kept going with the plan. My head and heart weren’t in it, but neither was Death’s. Thing is, we knew this had to be done. Leaving our families behind, those we cared about most. We knew that this had to be addressed with Johnathan Hart.

  Shrugging snuggly behind his desk, Johnathan Hart isn’t as afraid as I wanted him to be. I wanted him to see that Magnus King had been dealing both sides of the law, that he’d been playing dirty all along. I was no one’s pawn, but I had been playing a part in his match nonetheless, and I’d had enough of it. I wanted out of the game.

  “Lucius, I get it. You and I have a history. I understand your predicament with the law, but King is, and always has been, the legal means to us closing down the clubs on the West Coast. You were brought in for that means. You were to infiltrate, report, and decisively crush the illegal trades in this little part of our world.”

  I’m really wishing I’d brought my piece with me now. I’d love nothing better than to put a bullet through his smug face and gladly see it lodged into the cheap wood paneling behind him.

  I came in here with Death, and his look reflects mine. The two of us were handing over the evidence we had on King to Hart, to bring King down for good. To shut down his destructiveness. Hart, as the head of the Homeland division, sees King as a tool that’s necessary. He’s a dark need in a dark world.

  Here’s the thing about that: I expected the answers we’re being given. Death did too. We didn’t expect to have our request allowed, assisted, or even given authority. That’s fine by me. That just means I do this my way. The Bow way.

  Rising off the wall I’d been leaning on, I step up to the desk. Johnathan seems sort of fearful as I approach, and he should be. I don’t need a gun to harm him. I’m scarier without one. I’ve never had a problem with calling bullshit and doling out pain to those that deserve it. He knows that better than most.

  Realizing early on in the conversation that we weren’t going to get anywhere, I act as if I’m pissed, but resigning myself to the fact that I can’t do a thing. I’ll play my part if need be. No worries about that, Hart. I’ve become a fantastic actor, master at manipulation, and a king of bullshit.

  Talking in a lower tone, seeming annoyed but understanding of his position, I reply, “That’s fine. I get it, Hart. I do. You’re a paper pusher. You can’t do anything about it because he’s doing what he was created for. He’s cleaning house and making you look like the good guys.” Looking over at Death, he has the same look. The one that says we’ve done what we set out to do. “Ready to go?”

  I start across the room. “Yeah, I’ve had enough bureaucracy for one day. I’d like to go before it rubs off on my cut. I’d have to burn it to remove the awful fuckin’ stench.” Grasping the door handle, Death leaves within seconds.

  As I turn and walk away, Hart calls out, “My hands are tied, Lucius.” He’s only doing it to make himself feel better. Not to show he’s helpful or anything like that. Cunt.

  Turning heel, starting for the door, I’m glad. I did what I said I would. I tried to go the way of the law first. I’m still technically on the payroll—that’s what Hart reminded me, and King hinted to—so I had to use that to my advantage. ‘Use the tools in your bag,’ Dad always said. Even a blunt instrument can be dangerous.

  I may not be blunt, but I’m sure as shit ready to work with all the opportunities afforded me. As a Bow. As a DEA. As a man that knows how to cause mayhem and get what he wants when he wants it.

  Stepping into the hall as we start across the desk-ridden room, joining Death, his phone rings in his pocket. Pulling it free, looking at the number as we walk to the elevator bank, his face screws up. He has no idea who it is.

  He raises it to his ear. “Who’s this?”

  “What do you want?” Pausing, listening to the other end, his attitude changes. The calm man has been replaced with a pissed off whirling dervish. Swinging his arms, looking for something to hit, his face is the epitome of seething mad. “She better not be harmed. I’ll fuck up your shit so that even a coroner can’t decipher if you’re a man or a woman!”

  The room stills as Death freaks out. Every face turns our way, and slowly tries to shift back from the dangerous biker who’s losing his shit.

  Only one man can have that effect on anyone—King.

  Turning my way, looking over with strained anger, he hands me the phone. “I can’t...” He walks off to punch the nearest wall over and over. As he slams his hands into the sheetrock, I take the phone.

  “Hello, Lucius.” Fucking King.

  “What in the Christ do you want, King?”

  “Is that any way to treat a friend who’s taking care of something you love? Say hello, Oubliette.”

  No. This can’t be happening. This is beyond words.

  Not again. Not her.

  “Oh, you’re speechless, Lucius. I didn’t think that could happen, but color me impressed.” Pausing for dramatics, he laughs before continuing. “I’ll bet your
friend Bennett is having a bit of a fit right now. That might be my fault. His sister is out of his reach. So is Oubliette.” His tone is condescending and smug. “You know, you two really should keep a better eye on your toys.”

  Still slamming his fist into the wall, the blood stains the edges where he’s wrecked his hands. I have a need to do the same, to pummel something or someone. Someone named King would feel the best right now, that’s for sure.

  “What do you want, King?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

  “Well, I’m so glad you asked. I’d like you to meet me and a mutual friend at the warehouse that you recently closed up. You can bring your brother and his club too, but only two men from each club, max. We wouldn’t want a war with such delectable women in the area. Stray bullets can cause issues.

  “What do you say...an hour from now? That should give you a moment or two to gather your troops. Oh, and remember, Lucius, I have more men at my disposal than you do. Plus, they have no issue with taking out pieces of shit for the fun of it. So be good and stick to the rules. See you there.” With the dial tone appearing in my ear, I finally set the phone on the table before me. The need to tear something down is a driving force.

  Waiting for Death to wear himself out from destroying the wall, I gather every ounce of hatred I have for King and store it up. I’ll need every piece of it to take him down. If I take his friends with me on the way, I don’t care.

  “He has Jazzy and Oubliette. He knew.” He slams his fist into the wall again. “He knew! He wanted us to team up. He expected it. Fucker wants me so pissed off I’ll tear his balls off and feed them to the pigeons.”

  Standing by as he pulls himself together, I tell him the only thing that makes sense. “He has no idea what he’s asking for. We’re going to rain down hell.”

  Turning to me with a darkness in his eyes, he looks the part of a dangerous predator. “I won’t care who’s in my way. I’m saving my sisters.”

  “No one will harm them. That’s a promise.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Oubliette

  Driving toward the wharf, the warehouse coming into view, my stomach churns and the bile rises to meet my strained fears. What if they haven’t been here and cleaned up the mess from Nock? What if there are no weapon for me to defend myself with? What if they place me in a cell far away...

  Too many variables, and I’m fucking freaking out. King knows this is where I was because Lucius explained that it was his connection to the DEA that had me ‘freed’ in the first place. It was, of course, a setup to keep his association with King kept a secret from the Bows, but he’s explained that Bennett is in the same predicament as he is. They’ve been controlled from the day that King stepped foot in their lives.

  What I don’t get is what King wants and why he needs me? Why I’m being used at all, and why he killed Scarlet after she’d done as he’d asked?

  Asshole with a god complex probably thought he could do anything, that he was untouchable—that rules don’t apply to him. Just like True was with Crystal, maniacal and malicious. They have no concept of wrong and right. No concept of the lines they cross to get what they want. Master manipulators.

  Christ! Lucius probably doesn’t even know I’m gone. If he knows, I’ll bet he’s losing his shit. He left me in the care of his club when he went out to meet with Bennett. I have no way to tell him what’s gone on. King and his agents are in the other truck ahead, and I’m securely surrounded by well-armed men. Knowing a guy like him, he’s probably already given Lucius a call and told him I’m in his care. Bullshit. Care is concern. This guy cares for nothing and no one. That’s easy to see. He’s an egotistical narcissistic asshole.

  Turning the corner to the front door of the last place I’d like to visit ever again, King’s vehicle stops beside another pair of limo-style SUVs. Parking beside them and popping the door, the guy to my right steps out. As he stands holding the door, waiting for me to exit. I tentatively shift across the heated leather he’d just occupied. Stepping out into the light, I look to the SUV that held King, just as its doors open and a woman’s voice is heard.

  “You fucked up, you son of a bitch! I can’t wait until my brother skull fucks the remnants of your cracked cranium. I’ll gladly boil off the skin and leave you as a lamp on my desk for all eternity!”

  Knowing that Jazzy is here both frightens and gives me relief at the same time. “Jaz!” I yell out, moving across the lot to her. Before I can reach her, the first brute to exit our caravan grabs my shirt and hauls me back toward his chest.

  “You’re staying with me,” he says in an awkward tone. His voice is raspy and thick.

  Wrestling my shirt out of his grasp, I stand still. I have no issue being defiant, but it’ll be stupid to do it now. I need to wait until it’s to mine and Jazzy’s advantage. We know what’s in that warehouse, and if we’re lucky, we have ammo. If not, we’ll be patient until the rules change and we have an opportunity to free ourselves. Weeks ago, I wasn’t as sure of my own survival, but after everything that’s happened, I’m willing to go on a little faith. Faith that I can survive this too.

  Her eyes twinkle with mischief. They’re telling me exactly what I was thinking. Wait. We’ll figure it out.

  Holding still where I am, I wait for permission to start this pantomime of death.

  I don’t presume that King will allow us to live. We’re only here as pawns in his master scheme against Bennett and Lucius. I’m sure King has planned this for quite a time. I doubt it was me directly that was in his plan, but he’d need leverage. At some point, a woman in his life would be leveraged against him. Like Panna said, Lucius hasn’t had someone that he’s cared for, no one that was old lady material.

  Poor Panna. Laid out on the floor of the clubhouse, her life ended for no reason other than gaining me. I still can’t understand it. As I look down at my hands, still crusted over, my cuticles are filled with Panna’s blood as I tried to save her. Not to mention, the blood splattered along my body from Scarlet. I quickly turn my eyes back up and away from the reminders. Reminders that death has followed me everywhere.

  Giving me a shove, the agent tells me to start moving toward the building. Taking steps larger than I normally would, I attempt to catch up to Jasmine. She looks as worn-out as I do, and her body has the same signs of death attached to it. Coming close to reaching out, I grab for her hand. Clasping mine, I feel a sense of relief.

  “So glad we can reunite you two,” King states with a wide grin. I ignore his barb, and so does Jazzy. We know better than to fight a losing battle. We’re outgunned and outmanned, and we know that the interior of the building is so secure, we have no way to escape.

  As I look around, hoping for a chance to run like we did before, my personal bodyguard pipes up in a scoffing way, “No use in looking for an escape route. There’s no way out.” Condescending jackass. Doesn’t he see we’re grasping at straws and using the only thing we have left? Hope.

  “Fucker,” I mouth under my breath as he shoves me.

  Stepping up to the door, hesitant to enter, I step over the lintel. It looks just like it had when I left—minus the body in the cage. The floor of the cell I occupied has a stain that reflects that of a Rorschach blotter test. Fanned out to the side like devil’s wings, the darkest part outlines where Nock lied. His body still burned into my retinas is laid out perfectly in that space. The wings are a manifest as someone attempted to rub the blood remnants away. Hating that I’m here, hating that I have no choice once more, Jasmine and I don’t dare release each other’s hands. I won’t be set in a cell away from her, and I won’t be kept alone. I can’t. I’ll break a little inside as time ticks down the seconds if I’m put back in that same space by myself.

  Grasping her hand as if it’s the last lifeline, King opens the door. “After you, ladies.” He says it with such a sweet tone, that it’s as if he’s gesturing like a gentleman would at dinner to take the offered seat.

  Stepping in and hearing t
he click of the door as it locks, I turn to face him. I won’t give him the power. I won’t let him know how much this nine by nine affects me.

  Standing outside the door of our cell, King grins. “If you need room service, just ring the bell.”

  “We’ll make sure to call if the pillows are too hard. Or if we wish to cut your balls off and feed them to you.” Jazzy smiles in that dark way that only she can. Her dark eyes drilling into his soul as she tells him how she wishes to break and destroy his manhood.

  Not answering her, he winks. Staring at me, I give him a look that drills into him the seething contempt that I feel. He smiles before turning toward the stairs.

  As each of the agents clomp up the steel stairs, rattling the metal on the way behind him, their receding forms are a blessing. With them leaving us alone, it’ll give Jazzy and I time to talk.

  With little or no care, Jazzy screams up at his retreating form. “They’ll come for us!”

  Moving up the steps, seemingly unaffected by her barb, King finally stops on the third. Calling over his shoulder, the silence of the room carries his voice. “Don’t worry. We have plans for the brotherhood. There’ll be no clubs left in the L.A. area when I’m done.” Continuing on, decidedly smugger than he had been a moment ago, King finishes walking away from us, and up to the mezzanine.

  Once we’re fully alone, I turn. Wrapping Jazzy up in my arms as tightly as I can, she reciprocates the squeezing tight hug. “Oh my God! I was so worried about you. I was a total pain to him the whole way here. After we pulled up at the Bows and he walked away...I was so afraid. I heard that gunshot and thought the worst. Seeing you coming around the side I could finally breathe. I was so afraid, sweetie. So afraid.”

  Breaking the embrace, I wipe the tears away that are spilling down my cheeks, then smile. “Until you stepped out of the car, I thought I was going through this alone. I hate that you’re here, but I’m so glad I’m not alone. If I was here with anyone else, I think I’d break apart.”