by Kerri Ann
Inspecting our surroundings, I avoid direct eye contact with that smudge on the pavement. I avoid the reminder of my discretionary kill. I search for the glass shard. I hope that they didn’t clear it away when they took Nock.
Peering at the base of the cage’s edge, I finally see it. I’ll leave it in its perfect hiding place and ignore its existence until such time that it’s necessary.
“Come on. I think we’re stuck in this trap for a bit.”
Glancing up at the men in the mezzanine, they’ve settled in on the couches, grabbed alcohol, and or are taking a snooze. We’ll be here a while.
Picking a spot on the floor, away from the marks, and leaving me to look in the opposite direction of the men upstairs, Jazzy and I settle in. “What happened to you? The last I’d heard from Bennett, you were with Busta. I didn’t think an asshole like him would let a woman of his out of his sights.”
“I’m not his—”
She giggles. “Oh, hun, you’re his. I heard from Bennett how our release was planned by him. He told me the whole thing about the pig asshole upstairs that’s orchestrated the two clubs, and how protective Lucius has been over you.”
I’m taken aback. “He hasn’t been protecting me. I mean, we’ve been at the club and I didn’t go home, but that’s what Bennett said to—”
Now she’s laughing out loud. “Bennett didn’t give him directives. Do you honestly think that Bennett is that great at persuasion that he could control the pres of another club? A rival club? Honey, sometimes I think you’re so smart in the ways of flirting and sexual power, then you show me you’re so naive about guys.”
Smacking her arm, I mock pout. “Not funny, Jasmine. Not funny.”
“I’m just ribbing you. I find it funny, though, that you don’t see it. That man is so into you, Obi.”
The past few hours, with the deaths, and the new hostage/containment, is totally taking its toll on me. It’s cost me energy, emotional and physical strength to fight anything further. Not to mention, the alcohol that was keeping the edge off has worn away. “Jasmine, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Not sure how I should take that, sweetie.”
“In the best way,” I reply, yawning.
Cuddling closer, Jasmine wraps an arm around me. “You look worn-out. Take a nap. I’ll wake you if something happens.”
“I’m not tired.”
“And I’m not Ojibway,” she huffs sarcastically. “Sleep. Trust me, I got ya.”
I close my eyes.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Busta
When we’d pulled up to the club gate, I immediately knew something was up. Sinew was laid out on the ground. Miss had arrived only moments before me, and he ran inside to check on the rest of the club as I checked on the boys in the yard. The newest prospect, Slam, and his twin brother, Fletch, were checking on Sinew. His clock had been cleaned by one of the DEA agents, as had theirs, but he was still unconscious. Explaining what had happened to a T, they’d confirmed it was King that had dragged away an unwilling Oubliette. None of that was news to me.
When Miss walked out of the clubhouse, I was slightly confused as to why he seemed so sorrowful. I thought the worst. I thought that King had harmed others.
“I know who the mole is.”
“Yeah? That’s the least of our problems right now I think.”
“Not so sure, Pres. Come with me.”
As he walked off toward the side of the compound, I muttered to his back, “We don’t have time for this shit, Miss.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Stepping in time behind him, approaching the residence area, I was becoming increasingly annoyed with the delay. We should’ve been on the road to get Obi.
“Fuck. Whatever it is, we can—” Pausing at the edge of the building, I see the long curly hair of Scarlet fanned out with blood seeping into the stone and dirt path. “Jesus fucking Christ! Are you telling me the mole killed Scarlet? Or she was it?”
Hanging his head, he looks down at a wallet. “She was it.” He points to the door. “Inside, you’ll find Pandora dead in the hall. Ret isn’t taking it well. He only arrived just before us. It looks like Scarlet killed her and took Oubliette. I don’t think Scar was ours, I think she was King’s.” Lifting a discarded DEA badge off the ground, it shows Scarlet’s picture and her credentials.
How many people did he have in his control? A better question is, why did he have his fingers in so many pots? Actually, that’s simple. He’s been making his money off the backs of illegal dealings for years. That’s why Hart wouldn’t close him down. He must have his hands in the same pot. To take down their informants, it would shut down their incoming cashflow. I’m glad we’re stopping it here. This will be the end of it.
Pulling up to the warehouse in under an hour since the call from King, Death and I devised a plan of attack—the rescue. And if things go wrong, how to make sure the girls are protected when it’s all said and done. Even if we don’t come out of it unscathed, they will.
I contacted both my brother and Soulless and gave them the rundown. Neither of them cared about our girls, but they understood the dangers of letting a cocksucker like King near club property. We were being made an example of, and no one would stand for it.
“You ready?” I ask Death, who’s watching the blood from his beaten knuckles continue to drip on the ground beside my truck. We knew taking the bikes would make it harder for a quick escape with the girls, and it would leave them as a target at our backs. In the truck, at least, they could stay out of sight. I grabbed it when we went to the clubhouse to meet up with Miss and Trigger.
I felt bad leaving Radish behind, but with the girls hopping in the vehicle, and the other two guys on bikes, we had nowhere to put the dog that I was comfortable with. Not in a grab and run situation. I know Trigger was a bit annoyed, but in the end, he was more worried about Radish’s safety.
Parking down the street from our old warehouse, with Miss resting against his bike, we waited for my brother, Rap, Soulless and Sinner. We’d come prepared with enough firepower to leave King looking like Swiss cheese, and I know, as do the rest, there’s no way King is coming out of this outside of a body bag. His end is here.
Walking over to Miss, he clasps my arm and asks, “Ready?” I know his thoughts are running murderous and rampant like mine. He knows that if it was any woman he loved that was locked in there, I’d do the same for him. Also, I think he fell for Obi and her drink mixing abilities.
As we stand at the corner of wharf two, looking at the front entrance of our old warehouse, I take in the six well-armed DEA agents. With at least two pistols each and an automatic rifle over their shoulders, King has them ready to kill us. I’m not afraid of the odds, we have more to lose and a greater reward.
As a blacked-out pickup rides around the corner, I watch Cap arrive. Pulling up beside my truck after shutting it off, he steps out.
“Here. A little gift,” Cap states with a wide grin. Tossing a pinned grenade my way, and holding his own tightly, he shows me he’s carrying a block of C-4 too. “I figure I’ve held onto these long enough. They should be fun.”
Smiling and scoffing at his insanity—a craziness that I’ve missed—I fiddle with the explosive. “This may not be as fun as it is deadly,” I laugh, “but I like where your mind’s going.”
Turning to Rap, I give him a head nod. He's still standoffish, and I can’t deny it’s well placed. The day I was taken from the Cruel Intentions, it looked as if I had been the cause of the club closing. It’s hard to let old wounds heal when they run deep.
“Ready to cause some shit?” I ask.
He replies coolly, “Yep. This is as good a time as any I guess.”
Checking out how Rap is kitted up, I’m glad for the extra assistance. With two fully automatic AKs and a military AR, he’s well-appointed.
“We’re just waiting on Sinner and Soulless to show, then we’ll make our move.”
“Sounds fu
n. I’m gonna hang over here and check out chicks on dating sites,” Rap chuckles. Watching him walk off, I place the loaded grenade on the hood of the truck. Situating it so it won’t roll off, I check my own gear. I’m carrying two Sig Sauers, a Glock, and pockets full of ammo. I won’t take chances. The agents came prepared to put my ass in the dirt, and I’ll conveniently do the same.
“You sure she’s worth it?” Cap asks in a bored tone.
“Yeah. She’s more than perfect, man.”
Wincing, nibbling on his lower lip and biting his tongue, I know my brother well enough. He’s biting back a rebuttal. He has something to say.
“Spill. What is it that’s bugging you, Cody?”
I know that using his real name piques his interest more. It pisses him off too, but I’m going for either at the moment. He’s got something to say and I won’t go into a fucking war with his head not in the game.
Blowing out a breath, he weighs whether what he wants to say will piss me off, but he relents. “I guess I never thought I’d see you with a little white girl.”
Punching him hard across the cheek, his eyes harden and his look is murderous. I’m beyond pissed, though. “Cody, if our mother ever heard you say that, she’d whip your ass then hand you to dad for a good beating.” Ready to hit him again, I feel my blood boil for the attitude he’s showing. It’s King’s fault, not Cody’s that he even thought to say that aloud. It’s King’s fault that I wasn’t there, that our parents weren’t there as he was growing up, and that someone else had a hand in the man he became.
“You’re lucky I have someone else to kill or I’d lay you out for that. Until you know Oubliette, you best keep your blatant disrespect to yourself. I’ve never known you to be that guy, so I hope you just had a lapse in judgement.”
Watching as the fire dies out in Cody’s eyes, a sorrowful glare replaces it. “Sorry. That was a shit thing to say. I guess I don’t really know you anymore, Lu. I don’t know shit about her either, so yeah, I’m an asshole.” He holds out a hand.
Agreeing, I shake the offered hand. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re an asshole. But you say shit like that again and I’ll knock your fucking teeth out, kid. Pres or no Pres. I won’t take that at all. Fair?”
“Yeah, man. Fair.” Smiling in that soft cocky way he does, Cody picks up the grenade I left on the hood of his truck. “What are we waiting on?” He looks at his watch. “I thought we only had an hour?”
“You ever thought to be punctual on someone else’s time before, brother?”
“Nah, never.”
“Good,” I say. “Then we’ll make him wait a touch longer. I’d rather him antsy and annoyed we’re not on time. It’ll throw him off.”
“What about—” Rap starts, just as Soulless and Sinner in their lowrider car comes around the corner. “Never mind. They’re here.”
Decked out in purple, the eighties Cadillac rides toward us. With heavy beats thumping it down the alley, the engine and the music stops as a lull goes over our group. We look around at each other, dumbfounded that a seventies ballad was playing in a car owned by one of the most notorious bikers in L.A.
“Hey.” Popping the door, Soulless rises to his full height. He’s not far off of my brother’s size and stature, but what he misses in size, he makes up for in blatant attitude. Over the years, I’ve had a few run-ins with him. We’ve become amicable. Soulless takes no shit. He doles out punishment, and if he thinks you’ve crossed him, you best keep everything you love protected. He’ll use every dirty move you can assume, and even those you can’t. This is one of those times I’m glad he’s sided with us.
Armed to the teeth with knives, and not one gun, I smile. “Close quarters, huh?”
He smirks. “Only way to kill is seeing death scramble across their eyes on the way out.”
I can’t say I blame him. I agree. When Miss and I went back to the clubhouse, we grabbed our bows. You can’t be a Broken Bow and not have the irony of a death without one. Mine is a 50lb compound with my name etched across the top. It’s easy to load, quick to fire, and it makes a statement.
Miss’s bow is a statement. His long bow looks like something from a Robin Hood reenactment. The accuracy he has with it, though, is unparalleled. His road name is from the single miss he had in a competition against True. His shots are dead-on.
Removing it from the case he carries it in, he sets the waxed string, then tests the draw a few times.
“We’ll take out the first two in style. They won’t know what hit ’em.” I motion to Cap and Raptor. “If you want to grab the other two, we’ll let Soulless have some knife fun after we enter.”
“And us?” Death questions, standing with Trigger.
“Easy. He’s expecting me and you. We’ll let him feel like he’s getting what he asked for. There’s an escape route that we sealed off a little while ago. If Trigger and Sinner come in through it, we’ll have the advantage from behind. It’s not a known thing, so I doubt King will expect it.” Drawing in the dust on the truck hood, I show him where he’ll come in, where he needs to go, and how they gain access. “King won’t expect you to come with someone other than Curse, so with him in the hospital, we should have the advantage there. He’ll expect us to be a man short.”
Before taking the first shot, I ask if everyone’s ready. With quick nods, Trigger and Sinner walk off, armed to the gills with guns and knives.
Checking on me, Miss walks over. “You good?”
“Yeah. I’m ready to rain down hell.” Motherfucking King has been in control for far too long.
Smacking me on the back, he starts toward the edge of the building. Drawing back his bow, aiming at one of the agents, a slow whoosh sound is all that I hear as the bolt is released. Taking a look as he shoots, I see the agent he hit jerk slightly, but not fall to the ground immediately. He stares at the spot in his chest, then slowly collapses.
“That went right through,” Cap says, thoroughly impressed as I’m nocking my own.
Aiming, releasing a deep breath, I let the wind carry the projectile to its intended target. Slamming into the back of the second agent, I watch him spin from the force. Mine packs a wallop even from this distance.
With the four other agents standing around and thoroughly confused as to the location of the hit, Raptor and Cap aim, taking out two each in quick succession.
“That was fun,” Miss chuckles, full of mirth and excitement as he shoulders his bow and picks up his guns. “I’m in need of a celebratory round of head.”
“You ain’t gettin’ that from any of us, fucker,” Soulless tells him with a wide grin.
“I have a girl in mind, sick fuck. Though if you play with the rim right, I might let you do it twice.”
“We ready to do this?” Smiling, I nod and laugh it off.
Soulless is taken aback by Miss, but I’m not. He’d take head from anyone if they did it right. Starting across the yard, I follow Miss as he calls out loudly, “Let’s go fuck some shit up.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Oubliette
We weren’t the first here. That in itself excited King. As they sit upstairs causing a hubbub, I try to catch a glimpse of them.
“I’m glad you could join us, gentlemen,” King greets loudly.
“We’ve waited a long time for you. You shouldn’t keep your guests waiting, especially impatient ones,” one man with a dark voice exclaims. I can’t see him, but his tone speaks of his annoyance. I know the couch up there is set back pretty far, and I’m willing to bet he’s reclined on one of them. I’m thankful. Thankful that the cages are devoid of other inhabitants. Thankful that we’re down here alone to deal with the stress of being back here, and thankful that there’s no other noises so we can hear their conversation.
“You were expected here an hour ago, King.” The man’s voice carries across the vacant space. Accented heavily, thicker on the consonants.
Working in the club, you get used to voices, accents, verbal cues and tones. This
new voice is professional sounding. A true businessman. He’s not kept waiting by anyone.
“Well, they are worth the wait. That, I promise you.” King is smug. He’s selling us to the highest bidder because he can. Grease a palm here, sell a body there. He’s content to be dirty.
Prick.
Listening intently, I see them move to the edge of the railing and peering over. The men appear with King, along with one of his DEA flunkies. “They are a pretty pair. Biker trash you say? I wonder which puta will fetch the most?”
With a contemptuous glare, the other man expresses his deep hatred and disgust with us. Sneering, he turns his nose up. “Piruja.”
Whores.
Hookers.
Who the fuck do they think we are? We’re not anyone’s whores.
As a third approaches the railing, I’m taken aback by his good looks and relaxed attire, compared to his compatriots. Deciding that if we give them attitude, which will only fuel them on more, I do my best instead to concentrate on anything but them.
Staring down at my bloodstained hands, I’m still sickened by the sight. Feeling bile rise in my throat and an unceasing need to vomit up the death I’ve witnessed, I feel the room spin. I can’t ignore the stain on the ground, though I wish I could, and the dark red that coats my hands is a constant reminder that Panna won’t be there to joke with me when, or if, I return to the clubhouse.
I’m almost afraid to return to a place that’s seen the death of someone so kind. I truly cared for Pandora. Reflecting on her in the best way, I think about how she cared for me when she didn’t have to, and how she made me feel at home. She was the sweetest.
“Did you see your piece?” Jazzy asks me quietly, snapping me from my musings. Neither of us look to each other, we don’t want to give them any indication we’re interested in the glass that will save us.
“Yeah. You?”
“Totally. We’ll be prepared if they think to step foot in here. I won’t be someone’s trash. I won’t be made to sell my soul to save my body.”