“Fuck.” That was Mason, echoing the growl in the room coming from Duck.
“Jesus fucking Christ. Shit. Shit. Everybody freeze. Shit. Do not take another fucking step until you look at everything around you. Fuck. If they boobied this place, we could all be fucked. I need Devil and Bagger to sound off.” Opie paused, and Bones heard two other men recite call signs. Opie continued, “Right, I’m basement. Devil’s main, and Bagger’s up. We are point. No one, and by that I mean not a fucking soul, precedes us.” An audible breath through the headset, then Opie said, “Good call, Bones. Glad as fuck you miked up. On my way, Duck. Hold, man, fucking hold.”
Less than thirty seconds had passed before Opie stood next to Duck. He crouched, and Duck knelt. Together they examined the flooring in front of the door, the frame of the door, the handle of the door. They shared a look and then Duck stepped back. Opie removed a thin metal rod from his pack and unfolded it, telescoping it out to several feet. He held it out from his body, twisted the handle and Bones watched, fascinated, as it bent in half. Opie did something else and a red light shone from the end, and something else and the rod straightened again. “Myron, you got eyes on my vid?”
Opie didn’t have to wait for more than a moment before Bones heard, “Roger.”
“Okay, feed it to Devil, yeah? Slow and steady, we’ll sweep everything.” Another acknowledgment through the headset and Opie put a knee to the floor. Bones waited as the rod was inserted in the tiny gap underneath the door. With minimal movement, everything appearing choreographed, Opie adjusted the position of the rod. Adjusted again and paused, then whispered, “Bingo.” Opie moved, putting a hip to the floor before going prone in front of the door. “Step back, man,” he said, and Duck took a measured step backwards. “Devil, I got a VOIED, spring-loaded. You got your grippers, man?”
Voice tight and anxious, Mason asked, “VOIED?”
Opie answered him, tone distracted, “Victim operated improvised explosive device. It’s wedged into place behind this door. Opening the door would have caused it to explode.” He shifted, moving, sliding to one side so he could angle the probe slightly differently. “Looks like alpha-alpha, Devil. I see what’s probably a second location.” He moved again and whistled, low. “Daisy chain. Only the first looks to be tripped.” Before Mason could ask, Opie explained, “Secondary explosives are in place close enough to cause a cascade of explosions, but they aren’t wired to the first. They would have depended on the heat or blast from the first one to detonate the rest of them, but it would have happened fast, boom, boom, boom, boom.”
Bones heard, “Excuse me,” from behind him and shifted slightly to one side, allowing Devil to enter the room. In a breath, the big man was on his back beside Opie, taking control of the probe even as he handed over several additional extendable tools. “Y’all might wanna step back a couple more,” he called, and Bones wasn’t surprised that Duck shook his head. Bones felt the same way. No way was he going to back off and leave these two men here alone. “Your funeral,” Devil called with a laugh, rolling his head so he could grin up at the two standing.
Opie grunted, then growled, “Awww, fuck you did not.” He moved, Devil moved with him, and without saying anything else Opie stood and in the same motion reached out and yanked the door open. On the floor behind the door, Bones saw a small lump of what looked like melted wax, wire and metal shoved into it from two sides. Opie bent down and fiddled, then came up with the disassembled device. Tucking the pieces into his bag, he moved into the dark stairwell and completed the same methodical disassembly of several others. Looking over his shoulder, he grinned at Bones. “Y’all comin’?” Turning, he disappeared into the dark for a moment, then was silhouetted by a flashlight as he flicked it on.
Bones beat both Duck and Devil to the doorway.
***
Staring out from his place in the shadows of the dark hallway, Bones held himself in check, wanting with every fiber of his being to burst out and stop what was happening, but knowing he had to wait for the all clear. Opie had taken one glance into the room, one stride that direction before looking down and seeing the tripwire. Neither man was willing to wait, but after coming this far it would be stupid to fuck everything up.
Four people occupied the room, two standing. Carmela, her long hair matted, twisted into a single tail thrown over her shoulder, blood on her face. Deacon, one hand fisting and relaxing, the other clamped into a tight ball of flesh at the end of his arm. The two on the floor were Diamond and Hurley, neither were moving, but Bones couldn’t worry about them yet. His focus was Carmela, cataloging her injuries, evaluating her condition.
A murmur from Deacon, too low to hear from where Bones stood caused Carmela to flinch back, head moving as if struck. “No,” she shouted and positioned herself between Deacon and Hurley. “I’m not going to let you.” Deacon shifted, moving around the room and she twisted in place, keeping him in view.
“Opie, we need you to finish,” Bones whispered this on a barely there breath. In another moment Deacon would be able to see them, and all advantage would be lost. “Sooner would be better.”
In response to another murmured word from Deacon, Carmela again shouted, “No! You can’t. I won’t.”
“One second, man.” Without looking up, without giving way, Opie spoke. “One more, Bones.”
“You don’t have anything.” Still shouting, Carmela glanced behind her at Hurley and Bones saw he was moving slightly, perhaps waking up.
The pair circling took another step, then stopped, and Bones watched with surprise when Carmela maneuvered Deacon back the other way. He didn’t understand it was intentional until he heard Opie’s, “Thatta girl, Mela. Keep him focused.”
“Jesus, old man, you don’t understand, do you? So sad. You think people are disposable. Pick up this one today, throw them away tomorrow. Blood don’t matter. You think I’m going to let you hurt Hurley, then you’re more stupid than I expected. He’s found family, and that matters as much as blood, any day. He’s my family now. Mine, and you don’t have any idea how precious that is.”
Deacon laughed, the sound hard and brutal, and Bones caught a few words, “…just a tool, girl. Any hand that’ll fit…”
She scoffed, leaning backwards and shaking her head. “My Papa Watcher told me about you, you know. How he always thought you were an asshole, but then you proved you weren’t just an asshole, but a fucking asshole. Told me you taught him a valuable lesson, though. One he’s always held to. Taught him that club matters, more than nearly anything other than blood. Said he thought you understood at first, but then he saw you with your own men. Your club, and you twisted and manipulated it so the members didn’t know if they were coming or going.” She took another step, and Deacon matched it, his back now directly pointed to the hallway where Bones stood. “Said you broke it, took it apart at the seams, made it unrecognizable. Man like you, got no idea what’s precious in life, it’s sad to see you grabbing hold of the wrong things.”
So focused was he on Carmela, Bones nearly missed Opie’s murmur. “Clear.”
When he recognized the word, Bones sprinted across the room, leather soles of his boots soundless as he raced lightly across the cement floor. Carmela never wavered, never looked at him, never gave Deacon one indication that death was coming.
“Sad and old, and the thing is, you won’t ever know what you could have held in your hands. But I do, because my papa and my Papa Watcher both taught me. You hold onto what’s important, hold it close to your heart, keep it safe. No matter the cost.”
Bones hit Deacon square in the back, toppling him like a tree, riding his body down to the ground. Once there he straddled the man, defeated Deacon’s bucking twist to try and dislodge him and then Bones wrapped his fingers in the man's hair and wrenched his head backwards, tipping it nearly to his spine before crashing it to the cement over and over. The solid, meaty sounds mixed with grunts didn't register, didn't make sense, not until he saw the blood and gray matter.
“Never again.” Bones lifted Deacon’s upper body off the ground before he smashed it to the ground a final time, carrying it there with the full force of his strength. He felt the body underneath him become limp, muscles unresisting.
"Bones, man. Jesus." That was Opie, he'd gone to where Hurley lay against the wall. "Deacon’s done for."
Bones didn't respond; he lifted the man's head and brought it down again. Bones could scarcely make out his own words behind the grunts of effort. "Never again."
Not wanting to take any risks, he gathered the now unresisting wrists into one hand and twisted them high into the middle of the man’s back as he knelt on Deacon’s spine. Devil’s hands came into view, and while sucking in air with heaving breaths, Bones watched as he quickly secured Deacon’s arms and legs. Once they were bound, Bones looked up, seeing Carmela was crouched over Hurley, her voice a quiet murmur.
“Jesus.” Duck stood next to Diamond, who hadn’t moved through everything. Duck was staring down. “Dead.” Glancing at Bones, Duck shook his head. “Gutted.”
“Just as well,” Opie said, shifting towards Carmela. “I’d have killed him slow.” He stopped and reached towards his head, then Bones heard in his ear, “Secured. She’s safe. Repeat, she’s safe. Both targets are secured and safe.”
“Thank fuck.” That came from Mason through the comm system, followed by calls and responses from within the house as all the men reacted.
“Boss?” That was Opie, calling a question into the comm, and Mason answered, “Yeah?”
“Just to say, Bones is one scary motherfucker. Glad he’s on our side man.” As he knelt next to Hurley, Opie flashed a grin over his shoulder and Bones shook his head. “He’s a goddamned powerhouse.” Neck twisting back, he did a visible scan of Carmela, then in a soft voice, very different from the tenseness of the past days, greeted her, “Hey honey, how you doin’? We got help on the way for Hurley. Devil’s gonna get you outta here, take you to Juanita. How’s that sound, honey?”
“I’m not leaving him.” Carmela’s voice quavered, the first such indication of emotion Bones had heard from her. “Tio, por favor. I can’t.”
“I know you don’t want to, honey. But I didn’t sweep the whole house, just enough to get here. I wanna…I gotta make sure you’re safe, Mela. Get you out, and we can concentrate on Hurley. Go on with Devil, we’ll be right behind.” Opie had already turned a sluggishly struggling Hurley to his side and cut his bonds with quick movements, was now bringing him to his back as Hurley coughed and groaned.
Devil knelt beside Carmela, and when he put his arm around her shoulder, she leaned into his side. “Promise, princess.”
She flinched when Devil gave her title, and Bones knew why when she asked, “Where’s Papa Watcher?”
Fuck, she doesn’t know.
Opie didn’t miss a beat, and Bones knew he trusted in her strength because he gave it to her straight. “He went down, honey. Juanita’s waiting for you. She’ll talk it through with you, yeah? We need to get you to her, and I need to see to Hurley. Let me do what I need to do, honey.”
“He went down?” Thin and airy, her voice sounded childish, high-pitched and filled with shock. “He’s okay, right?”
Devil’s voice rumbled, no humor in his tone when he took over the conversation, urging her to her feet. “Let’s get you to Juanita, princess.”
Standing, Carmela’s gaze darted between the men, finally settling on Bones. “Tio Bones? He’s okay, right?” Devil tugged until her torso swayed, but her feet refused to move, staying planted. “Bones? Tell me…” her voice trailed off and he could see the struggle she had to pull in a breath. “Tell me he’s okay.”
Making his way across to her, leaving the bodies of the enemy behind, Bones shook his head, silently answering her question. She tore herself out of Devil’s hold, throwing herself at Bones and he wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed against his chest.
Come home
Ester
“Honey, you need to eat.” Cajoling and firm by turns, Kevin spoke to the blank wall of my mind. His hand appeared, this his right one, his knuckles telling me LIVE. I silently argued with them. Now Road Runner spoke, but not to me, into a telephone he held swaddled in his hand. For once, I didn’t care. No shits given, as Bones would say. Not today.
“Gimme Bones.” Every cell of my body came alert at the name, the idea he would be speaking to Bones in a moment. This I cared about. Very Much.
We’d come back to Bones’ house thirteen hours ago, but it was an echoing skeleton without him to bring it to life. “Yeah, I get it. Tell him she’s not eating. Tell him I’m worried.”
Tell him I miss him.
Tell him to come back.
Tell him safety first.
Tell him the sheets aren’t right.
Tell him nothing’s right.
Kevin looked at me, then Road Runner said, “She wants him to know she misses him, but she’s okay. I think she’ll eat now, since that’s what he’d want her to do.” A patent fabrication but I wouldn’t make him a liar. I reached out and plucked a blueberry from the plate of lemon-crème stuffed crêpes he’d placed in front of me earlier. Kevin smiled, and Road Runner spoke to the unseen person at the other end of the call, “Tell him it’s good. Stay focused. Stay healthy. Come home. We’ll be here.”
Tell me your story
Bones
“So you are really my Ester’s brother?” Bones pressed the phone to the side of his head, tipped his neck up, and closed his eyes. “The last time we talked you were still questioning many things about her, but gave no indication of being relations. When did this become clear in your mind, Myron?”
He and all the Rebels were staying at the Malcontents clubhouse tonight. Carmela had been treated by their resident EMT, a festering cut at her hairline cleaned up but deemed too old to stitch. It was a miracle she didn’t have more things to deal with, because according to her story, Diamond had kept her drugged for most of the time she’d been missing. Blue Line’s face had gotten hard when he heard that, and Opie mentioned later that Watcher had entrusted Juanita and both of their girls to the Malcontents late last summer. Without knowing what drugs were used, they’d all have to be on the watch for any lingering side effects for Carmela.
Hurley was a different matter. As soon as they’d arrived after the rescue, he’d been installed on a gurney in a lower room kept for medical treatment. Bones had watched as Mason cataloged the room and its equipment, and shared a grin with Opie, knowing they’d be seeing the same kind of set-up in some chapters where the pressure was hardest from enemy clubs. Hurley had multiple broken ribs, and the doc said his left arm was broken in two places. Nearly an hour of working on that alone, and even now Hurley was hooked up to all kinds of monitors and IV treatments.
Carmela had crawled into the bed beside him, not willing to leave, and not a soul was going to try and force her. She’d taken the news about Watcher hard, which was expected, and held it together for Juanita, but it was evident to everyone that Hurley was her solace. He needed to know she was safe and near to rest comfortably, and she just needed him.
Bones was in the common room, ass propped on a stool near the pool tables, and had decided to call Myron for a chat about Ester, and what he thought might be true. Myron had acknowledged the connection straight out, not deflecting when Bones asked. There were so many questions, still. Ideas he hadn’t been in a position to ask about before. Now, however, he not only had the time but the inclination to dig out answers. Tomorrow he, Duck, and Opie were headed to West Texas, to the chapter in Lamesa, but Bones would be going home to Ester very soon, and wanted to know what Myron’s news meant for her.
“Can you honestly look at the two of us and tell me you don’t believe?” Myron scoffed, and Bones focused back on the call. “I’ve lined up family history and dates. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s my little sister.”
“What do you want with her?” Bones lifted his bottle and dr
ained it, tipping it towards the prospect manning the bar. “From her?” He got a chin lift and then saw a scantily clad woman take a bottle from the makeshift bartender, swaying towards Bones with an easy smile on her lips. With a sigh, he handed over the empty, taking the full one from her, frowning when her fingers lingered on his. He wanted to get back to the call and gave her a firm head shake, then Bones watched her nose wrinkle and knew she would take more persuading. Barely suppressing a growl, he said, “I am not in the mood. Take yourself to someone else.” Her hand landed on his thigh, and Bones shook his head again, this time with disbelief. Into the phone, he said, “One moment, Myron.” To the girl, he said, “I am unsure how you can mistake my words.” He let his boot slip off the rung of the stool, stamped his heel against the floor, and dislodged her palm from his leg. “I have an old lady.”
“She here?” The woman’s tinny falsetto drilled into his ears, and he felt his brows snap together at the blatant attempt at manipulation her catty words revealed. “You let your old lady run your life?”
Laughter from the phone told him Myron was a witness to this encounter and Bones winced. Time to shut her down completely. “How that could be your business, I do not know. One thing I do know, is I am not your business.” He leaned closer, seeing a spark in her eyes, not feeling a bit of remorse that he was about to quash her excitement. “I do not want your hand on me. I do not want your company. I do not want you in my space, woman. I am not amused, and I will be certain to share my displeasure with the Malcontents. I suspect they would like to know when a guest of theirs has been so disrespected.” She took a step back, but that was still too close to him, so he continued, “And I’ve marked three members who are watching this encounter very closely, so I suspect this is not your first infraction. If you seek a property patch, this is not a path to follow. Now, back the fuck off, and let me go about my business.”
Rebel Wayfarers MC Boxset 4 Page 22