The FBI was going to show up any minute now.
Deuce knew Frankie wasn't going to go back to prison. Men like him would rather die than be behind bars. And this particular man was so fucked in the head he was going to take Eva down with him. So she could be with him forever.
Fucking hell.
He was going to lose her to Frankie. Again. This time for good.
"Deuce," Kami said, sitting down beside him. "You need anything for the pain?"
He needed Eva. She was all he fucking needed. She was all he had ever needed.
"No," He croaked.
She wrapped her skinny arms around him and he let her hold him because he knew she was hurting just as bad as he was. And truthfully he needed the fucking comfort.
ZZ looked over from behind the bar and the stacked security monitors there. "Prez. Feds are here."
Ripper stepped out of the hallway. "Prez, go ahead and let ‘em in. Boys got shit locked up tight."
He lifted his chin in ZZ’s direction. “Get the kids outta here and let the assholes in.”
☼☼☼
Nine oh seven A.M.
I pulled on my restraints, wincing as the rope chaffed painfully against my skin. I was on my stomach, all four of my limbs were tied together behind my back, Frankie had even gone so far as to connect my wrists to my ankles and stuff a pillowcase in my mouth.
All of this just so he could feel safe leaving me here while he went for food.
He didn't trust me and when Frankie didn't trust someone it never ended well.
With a lot of maneuvering and an incredible amount of pain, I was able to roll onto my side to relieve the pressure on my lungs and stomach.
I should have listened to Deuce a long time ago. Frankie was beyond saving. This was who he was, who he had always been. Who he would always be.
I had to end this once and for all.
☼☼☼
Nine fourteen A.M.
"So what you're trying to tell us, Mr. West, is that despite your state of the art security system, Franklin Deluva was still able to enter your club entirely unnoticed?"
Deuce scowled at Agent Ricardo Quintanilla. He was a short, fat and bald Mexican who wore clothing a size too small for him. He'd had to deal with him before, many, many times, serving warrants and doing impromptu searches at the club. He had a new partner. A sexy little blonde bitch with a tight ass, big perky tits and bad attitude. Half his boys were eyeing her like she was a piece of fucking cake. He wanted to stab her in the eye with a screwdriver.
"He musta cased the place for awhile," Ripper said, glaring down at the Quintanilla. "Knew what camera's to avoid."
Quintanilla surveyed Ripper's face and grimaced. "Deluva's handiwork I assume," He said gesturing his cell phone towards Ripper's face. "Seen it before. Only those unlucky bastards were all dead."
"Fuckin' great," He growled. "Let's just keep sittin' round here chattin' about the fucks Frankie buried while he starts choppin' up my fuckin' woman."
"Mmmmmmmm," The blonde bitch hummed, tapping her pen against her lips. "Don't you mean Franklin Deluva's woman or maybe Chase Henderson's woman? "
She turned in a circle, doing a survey of the room and all the people in it. "Have you all had Mrs. Fox-Deluva? Is she everyone's woman?"
He shot up off the couch and then Ripper and Jase were on him, pushing him back down.
"Say something else bitch!" He roared, struggling against his boys. "And you won’t live to see another day!"
"Are you threatening a federal agent Mr. West?" She said. "I'm simply suggesting your woman may have gone willingly with her husband!"
"Marie!" Quintanilla bellowed.
"Willingly?" He roared. "He made me watch him rape her! Do you fuckin’ get that? I was chained to a fuckin’ radiator watchin’ my woman gettin’ slammed by a fuckin’ psychopath and I couldn’t do shit about it!"
He heard a shriek that could have been either Danny or Kami or both. The rest of the club went silent.
Cox sucked in a breath. "Prez," He whispered.
He ignored him. "Listen to me agent cunt," He hissed. "I'm way past threatenin’ you. I'm straight ready to fuckin' bury you so you best hope my boys don't let me go."
"Don't let him go," Quintanilla said dryly. He turned to his partner. "Get the fuck outside."
☼☼☼
Eleven fifty five A.M.
I wolfed down my cheeseburger and fries. It had been forever since I'd last eaten and I was starving. Frankie was watching me from the corner of the room near the door, a bottle of vodka between his legs and a blank stare on his face.
"Can I have some?" I whispered, pointing at the half empty bottle.
He glanced down at the bottle then back to me, nodding.
I slid off the bed and slowly walked towards him. Stopping a few inches from his feet, I sat down and reached for the bottle. I had just wrapped my fingers around the neck when Frankie's hand clamped down over mine.
I looked up.
A tear slid down Frankie's cheek. "Eva," He whispered. "Can't sleep baby, can't fuckin' sleep. It's been weeks and weeks and weeks…"
My heart skipped.
"Baby," I said, reaching for him. "Come here."
Scrambling to his knees, he engulfed me in his arms and buried his face in my neck. Trembling, my heart breaking, I stroked his hair, his back.
"Remember my prom?" I whispered. "Remember dancing on the roof afterwards? We danced and laughed until the sun came up. It was one of the best nights of my life baby."
His large body sagged against mine and he started sobbing.
"Oh god baby, no." I pulled his head up so I could see his face. "Frankie," I breathed, wiping his tears off his cheeks. "You don't have to cry anymore. I'm here now. I'm never leaving you, never again baby."
"You can't," He rasped. "I can't sleep without you and I can’t breathe baby, I can’t fuckin’ breathe. I feel sick to my stomach all the time."
"Shh," I soothed, stroking his cheeks, battling my own tears. "Make love to me baby. Let me show you how much I love you."
The familiar taste of his tears mixed with vodka flooded my mouth and I let myself go for a little while, tasting Frankie for the very last time. His hands traveled my body, pushing my dress straps off my shoulders and my dress down to my waist.
"Eva," He breathed, cupping my breasts. "My Eva."
“Yes,” I whispered. “I’m yours. Forever.”
I pushed his back up against the wall and went for his belt buckle. He sat down and lifted his hips so I could slide his jeans down his legs. Holding me close, he rocked me backwards and covered me with his body.
"I love you," I cried softly, grabbing his backside and taking him inside of me. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”
"Fuck baby," He groaned. "I love you, I fuckin' love you, I love you so fuckin' much."
With every thrust he proclaimed his love for me, moving faster and harder each time.
I reached beside me for Frankie's jeans and the serrated blade he kept sheathed on his belt.
"Harder baby," I whispered, needing him distracted. "Give me all that love."
Frankie buried his face in my neck, his tears drenching my hair as his body began slamming into mine.
Gripping the handle of the dagger, I slid it out of its covering.
When I felt him stiffen, felt his orgasm, I ran my hand through his hair and gently tugged. "Look at me baby."
He blinked up at me.
"I'm never going to leave you again baby, you’re with me always now," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "No more nightmares."
He smiled at me, his lost little boy smile. "You've always made them go away."
I brushed my lips across his.
Then I sunk the blade into the side of his neck and with all my strength, wrenched it sideways and twisted.
☼☼☼
One thirty two P.M.
"We've got a hit," Quintanilla said, holding his cell phone
to his ear. "Local uniforms spotted Deluva's plates outside a motel a few towns over."
Deuce didn’t ask any questions, he just kept praying.
"Tell them to hold off," Quintanilla said. "Deluva is undoubtedly armed, extremely dangerous, unstable as all hell and he's got a hostage. I'm going to call a team in right now."
Quintanilla’s eyes went wide and locked on him. He felt his stomach lurch.
She was not dead. She could not be dead. No. God, please god, don’t let her be dead.
“When?” Quintanilla demanded.
Fuck. Fuck him. Fucking Christ. He couldn’t deal. He couldn’t. His kids couldn’t deal. Kami and Devin couldn’t deal. His boys couldn’t deal. This could not happen.
Quintanilla hung up. "Deluva's dead."
He shot to his feet. "Eva?"
"Hysterical, but unharmed."
A violent shudder of relief tore through him.
"How'd they take him down?" Tap asked.
Quintanilla pressed his lips together and made a smacking sound. He looked around the club as if debating on whether to share what he knew.
He sighed noisily. "They didn't. The woman did. Nearly severed his head clean off with a dagger. She came walking out of the room holding it, half naked and covered in blood."
Kami fell to her knees screaming at the top of her lungs. Cox dropped down beside her and pulled her into his arms.
“Fuck…” Cox looked up at him, his boy’s horrified expression mirroring how he felt. “Prez…” He whispered. “Foxy…”
He sat back down and buried his face in his good hand. Mick's arm came around his shoulders and squeezed. "She's okay, Prez. She's alive."
"She's alive," He said hoarsely, "But I can tell you right fuckin' now she sure as shit ain’t okay."
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO:
The Demons buried Frankie on a cloudy Tuesday, wearing his cut; my engagement ring and wedding ring on his pinkie finger. Deuce stayed by my side holding me up when I would have collapsed. I was overwhelmed with grief and regret, swamped with guilt and at the same time, relief so great I felt dizzy from it.
I hoped in death Frankie found the peace he never could find in life.
I stayed a long time after the service disbanded. I talked to Frankie for a while, cried for a while.
Before I left I traced his name on his tombstone, "Sweet dreams baby," I whispered. "Always."
Before we headed home, Kami and I visited Chase's grave. Hand in hand, we sat down in the grass and leaned back against his tombstone. Sharing a seventy five thousand dollar bottle of whiskey, we held each other and cried. We cried for very different reasons, but for Chase all the same. As fucked up as both our relationships with him were, he had been loved. He’d just been too fucked up to realize it.
Then Kami, Cox, Deuce and I went home to our kids and our club and the healing began.
Deuce was in a bad way. Worse off than anyone else. For a long time he wouldn’t touch me, couldn’t touch me. He blamed himself for everything. It was his fault Frankie hadn’t been found; it was his fault Frankie had been able to break inside the club; his fault that Frankie had forced himself on me and his fault that I’d been the one to kill him.
But it wasn’t. None of it was. It was Frankie’s fault, all of it. This, I’d had a hard time accepting as well. At first, I’d placed blame on myself, for letting my relationship with Frankie get to the point it had.
But I got there…alongside my family and my friends and my club…I got there.
Getting Deuce there was another matter altogether.
But we got through it. Together. It didn’t happen overnight and it wasn’t easy.
Nothing worth doing ever is.
And love is worth everything.
EPILOGUE:
Deuce scowled at his father in law. "You're older than me," He grumbled.
Preacher snorted. "Both in our fifties. Only difference is you got yourself a beautiful, younger woman to keep you young and all I got is a club full of stupid shitheads who think bathing is optional and farting is an art form."
They both looked to where Eva was standing, talking with Kami, a very pregnant Dorothy, Mick and his wife Adriana, Danny and… ZZ, whose fucking arm was slung over his daughter's shoulders. His fists clenched but he kept it reeled in. He had promised Eva he wouldn't kick the shit out of him again. Danny was twenty one years old, Eva had said, and ZZ was head over heels for her. She kept reminding him that ZZ had never fallen into the same patterns the rest of his boys had. He didn’t drink excessively, he didn’t have a quick temper, he’d never disrespected a woman, and he didn’t do whores.
Still…he really fucking hated it. Really. Fucking really.
He gritted his teeth and looked back at his wife.
She was thirty five and fucking gorgeous. Her body was sleek and toned, thanks to yoga four times a week, but she still had her curves so he was happy and didn't give a shit if she felt the need to twist her body into a pretzel and look damn ridiculous doing it.
Her dark hair was newly cut and hung halfway down her back in soft waves; she had bangs now, long and swept to the side, Danny’s doing. She was wearing a pair of jeans he was sure were older than he was and looked it, and her old Led Zepplin tee that showed her star covered belly. No bra.
God, he loved her.
His tag around her neck was gleaming in the sunlight. Her IPod was shoved in her back pocket, her earbuds hanging halfway down her jeans. On her feet, pink chucks. And even though he couldn’t see it from this distance, on her left ring finger, was the ring he’d put on her finger the day he’d married her; a thin platinum band inscribed with their names.
Deuce & Foxy.
He watched her turn around and bend over to pick up Cox's and Kami's one year old son, Diesel, and saw his name, Deuce, tattooed right above her ass in large scrolling script. It had been his birthday present last year and he’d been fucking her on her knees ever since.
"Fuck," He muttered.
Preacher glanced at him.
"Just thankin' god," He said, shaking his head. "For that fuckin' woman."
Preacher grinned.
"Never forget the day she came bouncin' into my fucked up life, shakin' pigtails, singin' Janis, wearin’ chucks and sharin' peanuts and straight up stole any decency I had left which wasn't a whole lot but she fuckin' took it and I've been hers ever since."
Preacher's eyes glossed over. "Good thing I went up river same time as your old man," He said, his voice breaking. “If you hadn’t…if Frankie woulda-
He clapped Preacher on the back. "Fuckin' yeah,” He said roughly. “Don’t I know it.”
"Hi daddy!" Ivy yelled, running past them. "Hi grandpa!"
“Hiya beautiful girl,” Preacher said smiling.
"Get back here you crazy little shit!" Cage bellowed, streaking across the lawn after her. "And give me my keys!"
Her blonde pigtails bouncing, her pink chucks kicking up dirt, Ivy laughed her evil little laugh and kept running. Cage shot past her, circling around her. Ivy skidded to a stop, Cage faked right, Ivy whipped to her left and Cage grabbed her. Swung her right off her feet and up through the air.
"Gotcha!" He said, tossing her up in the air and catching her. She shrieked and giggled and screamed until he set her down.
"Ivy Olivia West!" Eva yelled. "Give your brother his keys!"
Bending down in front of her, Cage rocked back on his heels and held out his hand.
"Here," She muttered, slapping the keys into his outstretched hand. Cage's hand closed around hers and he pulled her forward into a bear hug.
"Love you, you crazy little shit," He growled. “Couldn’t have asked for a better sister. Cuz, ya know, Danny’s kinda bitchy.”
Danny flipped Cage off.
Ivy grinned. Cage grinned.
He closed his eyes.
He stuck out his hand.
"Name's Deuce sweetheart. My old man here is Reaper. It was nice talkin' with ya."
She put he
r tiny hand in his and he squeezed.
"Eva," She whispered. "That's my name and it was so, so great to meet you too."
He smiled.
She smiled.
The rest is fuckin’ history.
The End.
More titles by Madeline Sheehan:
The Holy Trinity Trilogy
Holy Trinity: The Soul Mate
Holy Trinity: My Soul to Take
Holy Trinity: My Heart and Soul
(Coming in the spring of 2013)
Undeniable Page 20