by Naomi West
I stared at him for a long moment, weighing his grim words in the back of my mind. Finally, I nodded firmly. “And after that…?”
“After that, the Devil's Route will have no choice but to hire you back,” Emilio said confidently. “And with such a clear sign that you are on our side — because you will have then killed off our greatest enemy — we'll be able to rest in peace and give you the tokens that you have earned by fulfilling these deeds.”
I frowned at the man, but I could detect no deceit there. Finally, I shrugged and nodded. “You're right,” I told Emilio, standing and sticking my hand out over his desk to seal our agreement. Emilio smiled at me, his teeth all sharp angles and points.
I left, feeling a shudder travel up my spine. But this was for the best of our club, I reminded myself. Even if Emilio was a scumbag, at least he was a scumbag that I could trust.
Chapter Seventeen
Jake
I ducked my head around the corner, still surprised that there was no one there. “Jake, you're looking good. Wait there until we're ready to bust,” the voice said over my radio.
I obediently dug my heels in to wait, thinking over the past few days.
We'd had another group meeting, the third one in five days, as Bryce had complained. Max had called this one, and I'd been tempted to just skip the whole affair, but I was already in enough hot water with Frank at the moment, so I had reluctantly showed up to it.
“I'm telling you,” Max said impatiently, scowling at Ryan, who had dared to ask him a question about the proposed mission. “I have it from a leading source in their organization that the Flames have a new meth lab. And with the outputs of that lab, their hoping they can continue to encroach upon our territory—and eventually take over the full drug trade in this city!”
I couldn't help snorting. “You have that on what authority?” I asked. “I mean, it's all well and good to–”
“Don't interrupt me,” Max growled, whirling to face me. “I swear to god, Ryce, if I didn't know better, I'd guess that you were plotting with them. After all, you always seem totally unconcerned with what the Holy Flames are up to, despite the fact that you are supposed to be our second-in-command. I shudder to think of what our club will become when, god forbid, my father is no longer able to lead us.”
There were a lot of narrowed eyebrows at that. Max should have known better than to say something like that, given that many of the members of the club were on my side, as evidenced by the recent votes on whether we could protect Halley and Cole and on whether or not I should receive punishment for my public beating up of Brian.
I felt my heart sink, wondering if those two votes had somehow played into what we were seeing right now.
But nobody else seemed to be thinking about that. Instead, when there was a vote, most people voted to bust the Flames' new lab. And I had no choice but to go along with it…
The headset buzzed annoyingly in my ear, and I wanted nothing more than to rip it out. There was a reason I didn't usually do missions like this — raids — where there were tons of people involved. I didn't like having to watch out for more people than myself, didn't like having to calculate what everyone else was doing. But I had no choice this time.
Anyway, Frank had agreed to be part of the raid, had staked his life on it, no doubt because Max was making his position as leader look very precarious and past-minded. I had to make sure that Frank, despite his ailing health, walked out of this okay.
The first bout of gunfire caught me by surprise. I hadn't heard anything on the radios for a while now—nothing except for breathing, that was. I jumped, managing to not knock anything over in the process, and sprang into action, drawing my gun and running towards the noise that I had heard.
I pistol-whipped the first guy that I came across, and then I ran into Max.
“You fucking bastard,” I snapped, lining up my gun so that it was pointed boldly at his head. “You led us into a trap!”
But for the first time, Max didn't seem so confident. In fact, his face was ashen. “I didn't know,” he told me over and over again, as though that confession might save him.
I rolled my eyes and dragged him towards where Frank was supposed to be waiting because if there was anyone I was going to fight for, it was going to be him. “Gather everyone,” I told Max. “Bring them here. We can fight best if we're in a group together, and–”
“You find everyone!” Max cried, pushing me in the same direction that he'd pushed me.
I pulled my arm free. “I'm trying to save your father,” I snapped. “I can't go running around looking for people. If you forget, I'm one of the best marksmen—”
Before I could finish that statement, there were bullets flying at us, driving Max and I in opposite directions. He was clear of things, in the hallway that he was in, and I tried to motion for him to go down and away from the fighting, to find everyone else and bring them back. But I could already tell from the stubborn set of his jaw that he wasn't about to do that.
I didn't have time to think about Max anymore, though. I could hear fighting from behind me, coming from the direction where Frank was, and I turned on my heel and ran, not thinking of anything else but keeping my adoptive father safe. I spun around a corner and saw Frank standing there, his gun out, firing shots at a succession of people.
He wasn't alone, fortunately; there were people there on either side of him, all with guns pointed towards the chaos. But even as I watched…
I cried out and spurted forwards as Frank was hit with a bullet to the stomach. But I wasn't the only person catching the man as he fell; instead, out of the blue, there was Max, cradling his father from the other side.
But even though I felt, vaguely, that I should be rejoicing at his joining me, I could tell that this was the end of the battle for Frank. We dragged him out, towards the exit of the clubhouse—I had to fire my gun quite a few times before we were through.
“What the hell is happening in there?” the clueless guard asked as Max and I walked out, unceremoniously supporting Frank.
I gave the man a look of disbelief but kept moving along with Max.
“You were shot!” Max cried in surprise as we finally caught up to the ring of authorities that was surrounding the place.
I looked down as saw that, sure enough, there was blood marking one of my legs. “It's no big deal,” I said nonchalantly, feigning my disinterest—even though now that I was aware of the thing, it was painful as fuck-all.
“Your father is in worse shape,” I growled, gesturing towards the ambulance. “Do you want to ride with him to the hospital or should I?”
There was a moment where Max was undecided—and I had a feeling he was weighing the fact that his showing up at the hospital was just a cause for more discomfort, for more disappointment on behalf of his father. I almost felt for the man...but not quite.
“Here, go on,” I said, pushing Max into the ambulance. “Call me from the hospital.”
Max looked a little shell-shocked, but he complied. Once he was out of reach, I finally heaved a sigh of relief.
Chapter Eighteen
Halley
I stared down at Jake's weak body and reached out for the umpteenth time to touch his hand, hoping that those gentle touches would eventually ground him and bring him back to the present.
Hospitals had always terrified me, from the time that my grandparents had died when I was a kid. There was always that smell to them, and that look that doctors gave you when there was nothing more that they could do.
That look may not have been directed towards me this time, when it was Jake who was there, lying limp against their pale green sheets, but that didn't make me feel any better. Every time I saw the doctor, I expected to see one of those looks.
Fortunately, it didn't come.
I was surprised, that day, to see the way his eyes flickered, as though they might open at any second. Of course, he had only been shot in the leg during some sort of mission for the Devil's Rou
te—but I didn’t really know what he'd been up to. And with the way that he'd been lying there for the past few days, dead to the world, I kind of thought that … well...
And the color of his eyes! The thing was, he'd been out for so long now that I almost thought I had forgotten the peculiar shade of green that overcame his eyes most of the time. I thought I had forgotten.
But it didn't matter now. What mattered was that both Max and he were in the hospital, with injuries of varying severity.
“What are you thinking about?” Jake asked suddenly, and my hand stilled against his.
I jolted as though he had shocked me. “I didn't realize you were awake,” I said in surprise.
“I didn't think I would be,” Jake admitted to me. He shook his head. “Where's Frank? Is he—”
But before he could even finish the question, I was shaking my head, tears standing in the corners of my eyes. “I'm so sorry,” I said, my voice sounding raw and pained. “I'm so, so sorry.”
Jake held up a hand to interrupt me. “Where is Frank?” he asked. It was clearly the only thing that he could think about, and he had to have the answer to that question before he heard anything else.
I settled back in the chair and closed my eyes. “I'm sorry, Jake,” I said, and I was sure he could see the tears standing in the corners of my eyes. “Frank … well, with that bullet to the stomach, it's a surprise that he survived long enough to even make it to the hospital. But there was nothing more the doctors could do.”
Jake stilled, staring up at me, but I couldn't meet his heartbroken gaze. “I was there, though,” Jake said. “I mean, I saw him get shot, but—”
“Jake, you couldn't help him,” I said. “I mean, sure, you got him out of there. But that doesn't mean you can save a man who has been...” I trailed off, remembering the way Jake's hands had been smeared with blood when I'd finally seen him again, despite the nurse's best efforts to clean him off. “You did everything you could.”
“No,” Jake said hoarsely. “No, I can't believe it. I don’t believe it. I refuse to believe it.”
“Don't worry, though,” I said, trying to make my voice as soothing as I could. “We followed his funeral instructions to the letter, everything that was laid out in his will. And Max is running the club right now, making sure that everything’s fine.”
“It's Max's fault that we're in this mess to start with,” Jake growled, trying to sit up. “And it's his mess.”
“Easy there,” I said, catching his shoulder and pushing him back down onto the bed. “Relax, just relax. Jake, I know that this is hard for you.”
“Hard for me,” he snorted. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman, you think this is just 'hard' for me? This is—”
“I know,” I interrupted, my voice still in the same falsely soothing tone as before. “But Jake—”
“I'm going to kill that fucker,” Jake vowed. He shook his head when I opened my mouth to even consider arguing with him. “No,” he said firmly. “Look, Halley, I know that you have your personal things—your morals and your etiquette and whatever else, but I'm going to kill that fucker. For what he's done to you, for what he's done to Frank, for what he's done to the Devil's Route. He doesn't deserve to—”
“What are you, God?” I scoffed. “You don't have any right to go on making decisions about who lives or who dies.”
I was right, and Jake knew that. He stared at me for a long moment, and this time, I could see tears forming in his eyes. Then, he finally turned his eyes away from me, and I could see him weep.
Chapter Nineteen
Jake
When I woke up to see Emilio Alvarez standing over my bed, I thought at first that he was a figment of my imagination—that maybe I was dreaming that he was there. But no matter how many times I blinked, he was still there, unwavering, and I was finally forced to accept the fact that he was really there. I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice and trying to ignore just how vulnerable I was, lying there in the hospital bed, barely able to move with all the things the doctors had me connected to.
I cleared my throat. “You've come to kill me, just like you killed Frank?” I asked, my voice rough.
Emilio frowned at me, but he didn't move. “No,” he said. After a long moment, he sighed, shaking his head, and sat down in the seat at my bedside. “You have to understand, Frank's death had nothing to do with me. I didn't order it, I didn't want it. Maybe for some of you younger guys, there isn't the same sense of honor that there used to be. But when I first joined the Flames, we would never have just gone out and executed our competition. That's just not how these things work.”
I frowned right back at him, my brain feeling sluggish. Maybe it was from all the drugs that they were pumping into me—painkillers and whatever else. But I just couldn't seem to make sense of things. “What do you mean, you didn't kill him?” I asked. “If you didn't kill him, who did?”
“That's Max's doing,” Emilio said, his tone flat. “I'm actually surprised that he hasn't arranged for another hit on you just yet, but I guess he must be biding his time, waiting until the suspicion over all of this has gone down a little. Also, it's going to be a hell of a lot easier to kill you once you're out of here. He may be stupid, but he doesn't want to deal with a mess of security footage, nurses, and bribes.”
“Wait,” I said, shaking my head. God, if only I wasn't so groggy! Then I could make sense of all of this. “Are you trying to tell me that Max arranged the whole thing just so that his own father would be gunned down?” I remembered Max's ashen face back in the building, remembered the way he had refused to go help out any of the others. He had known, I realized, disbelief coloring my realization. He had known that they were going to kill his father, and he still hadn't done a god-damned thing about it.
And that was probably what Max wanted even; that was the part that was sickening. He probably thought that if the Flames killed Frank and I, maybe he could take over as leader of the Devil's Route, and then he could have everything that he'd ever wanted.
There was just one problem, and that was that I was still alive. Although with the way things were going, it might not be that way for long.
I eyed Emilio. “Why are you here, if not to kill me?” I finally queried.
Emilio shrugged a little. “To offer you a choice,” he said. “I don't feel that we owe you a debt, per se, but I do know that it was a member of the Flames who killed Frank, whoever's orders they might have been operating on. So rather than just tell you how things are going to go from here on out, I'm going to let you decide the fate of your club.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “And my choices are?”
“I assume you want to be the one to avenge Frank's death, by killing Max,” Emilio said. I nodded curtly, and he smiled. “So, do that, then. And once that's done, you will formally disband the Devil's Route MC, and that will be the end of all of our troubles with you.”
“I could never disband the club!” I snapped. “That's absurd. Frank worked his whole life building it up, and the guys deserve better than that.”
“Your other option, then, is to allow yourselves to be absorbed into the Holy Flames MC peacefully. We don't really want to go to war with you, we just want to take over all your areas, all your people, and most importantly, all of your revenue. It's been too long that we've been fighting over territory here. Better that we—”
“You know that's never going to happen,” I interrupted, scowling at him. “I'm offended that you think I would even consider—”
“Oh, you'll do more than consider,” Emilio said, smirking at me. He leaned in close. “Because you know what will happen if you don't do either of those things?” he asked. “We know about your girlfriend and your son, and although I stop short of killing innocents to get what I want, that doesn't mean I couldn't make your life a living hell.”
I swallowed hard, hands clenching into fists against the sheets. “You wouldn't dare,” I snarled, but inwardly … well, I didn't really know what the
man might or might not do. There was a reason he was losing more and more men recently: he was becoming dangerously impulsive, just like Max. There was no telling where those impulses might lead him.
I wished Halley was there in the hospital with me, where I could keep an eye on her and keep her safe. I wished I were healed and healthy and strong and that I could look out for both her and Cole, outside of the hospital. But unfortunately, at the moment…
Emilio stood up, his business with me finished. “Think long and hard about it,” he told me in parting.