Blood and Honor

by Vixen, Jayna

  He wasn’t sure how to ask the next question. The vague image of a bull charging around an antique store came to mind as he opened his big mouth anyway.

  “Are you sure it’s not a—you know, that you were and you lost it?”

  Rhee stiffened in his arms. Shit. Maybe the thought hadn’t occurred to her and he was a tool for bringing it up.

  “I don’t think so. I can go in tomorrow and get checked out I guess.”

  “I’ll have the club doc come here instead. I want to make sure everything’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay.” Rhee shrieked so suddenly that he almost dropped her on her ass.

  “Fuck, okay…”

  “Shit, Dax. Jesus. Just put me down.” She wriggled from his arms and when he saw her face, he realized that she had been crying for hours.

  “At first, I thought it was the wrong time, you know. When I was pregnant before, it was hard. I got—fat. Really fat and swollen too. Then there were complications, Dax. I, we…I could have died.”

  “What?” Died? He felt his heart constrict. Why the fuck hadn’t she ever told him this?

  “It’s a rare thing and it may never happen again, but I was really sick for a while. Manali took care of me…us. I wasn’t sure I was ready to go through all of that again, but then I guess I realized that I wanted another baby and I wanted you to be a part of everything. I got excited, you know? I even…” her voice broke on a sob.

  He watched Rhee take a slow, purposeful breath before continuing.

  “I even started thinking about names. Silly, right?”

  She turned to stare at Sirena’s room. Dax felt like a big, dumb asshole standing there. What was he supposed to say to make her feel better? The strange ache in his chest—that he would deal with later, or never at all. But Rhee, she was hurting and he knew that his usual method of delivering multiple orgasms wasn’t going to fix this.

  Dax sighed heavily and tucked his disappointment far into the recesses of his mind. He didn’t want her to know how much he had been looking forward to seeing her grow round with this baby. Then, he pulled Rhee back into his body and wrapped his arms around her tiny frame. His nose went into her hair, and he was momentarily distracted by the lavender and vanilla fragrance. He struggled to find the words to say but none came, so he just held her until some of the tension eased from her body.

  It took a long ass time.

  Rhee spoke at last, her voice thin but even. “Have you heard from Wince yet?”

  Dax checked his phone. Odd, but no word from his go-to kid. “Something must have held him up. I should head back to the club but I don’t want to leave you.”

  “No, it’s okay. You know, um, I have some pretty bad cramps.” She blushed, which he found endearing.

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Ugh. No, I think I just want to get through the rest of the day and pass out,” she sighed.

  “Want me to send over some help?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Sure, baby?”

  “Yeah. Well, actually, I guess you could do something.”

  “Anything.” Dax wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight. God, she still fit so perfectly into his embrace.

  “I want to know what’s going on—at the clubhouse. You and Wince are both acting…strange.”

  Dax felt the tension in his jaw and tried to relax it away. “Club business, stowaway. Nothing to be concerned about.”

  “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  “Nothing to tell, baby.” It was a lie—one he knew she could see right through. He felt her tense in his arms and then she took a slow, measured breath, as if she was actively trying to calm herself down.

  “But I am concerned, Dax. Ever since we came back here, things have been…different. Stressful. Even Sirena feels it. I—we—need to go back. Soon. When is this “club business” or whatever you want to call it, going to be finished?”

  “Don’t know.” He knew without a doubt that his response was probably going to infuriate her.

  It did.

  Rhee squirmed from his arms and stalked to the kitchen. “Well, figure it out. I’m done with being here.”

  Dax flinched as he ground his teeth. There was no way in hell he could tell her what was going down. The possibility of Hawk ratting on the club was the least of his worries. Something as big as the kiddy porn ring Wince had discovered was bound to have federal watchdogs all over it. The Phantoms had friends in high places and there was no limit to the favors Dax was going to have to call in once they figured out what came next.

  “On it.”

  She stomped off and Dax was left feeling like a stranger in his own fucking house. No matter. Time to head back to the compound and get the information he needed. Then, it was a late night recon mission with Slade. Fuck, he thought he was done riding the line but now he was dealing with his own concept of honor. It felt wrong, fucking wrong, to keep shit from Rhee and to spy on his club president.

  Dax fought the urge to slam the door behind him, and instead let it click shut with the barest of sounds. Then, he strapped his brain bucket on and carved the canyon all the way back to the compound. He was conscious of how fast he was going, but no matter how hard Dax gunned the engine, he couldn’t seem to outrun the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

  Again.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  There was a strange tugging sensation in her arm. Her head felt foggy but it wasn’t from her past. No, this was definitely something else. Why couldn’t she open her damn eyes?

  The low hum of whispers infiltrated her consciousness.

  “She’s been traumatized, Wince.”

  “No shit.”

  “I gave her a light sedative. Looks like she hasn’t eaten for a while. It’s fine, she needs the rest. When she wakes up, make sure she drinks a lot of fluids. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, doc.”

  Doc? Am I in a hospital? Oh, God, no hospitals. The cops more than likely had her on their most wanted list and hospitals were notorious for reporting back to the police—especially in small towns like Darling.

  Footsteps paced away and then there was silence. Mickey forced her eyes open and then snapped them back shut. The light, though dim, burned like a flame.

  “I know you’re awake, Mickey. It’s okay. I had the doc give you something to help you relax.”

  His voice—it was strangely mesmerizing. Her eyes opened and she fixated on the comforting brown eyes that held her gaze. The man approached cautiously and she felt the weight of the bed sink as he settled himself on it. Mickey didn’t move but for once, she wasn’t afraid.

  It was decidedly odd.

  “What’s your name?” she whispered. Her voice sounded like it was coming from within a long tunnel.

  He smiled and she thought the hint of a blush crept up his neck. “Winston Walker. The guys call me Wince.”

  “Wince.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  “You need anything else? Want the TV on?”

  Mickey shook her head slowly. “What happens now?”

  Wince shrugged. “I stall a little longer. You rest. Then, we get you to your family.”

  The word “family” sent her pulse back to racing. The bed dipped as Wince started to get up. Mickey was surprised when her own hand shot out and her fingers latched onto the man’s wrist. He paused, glancing down at where she suddenly seemed to have a death grip on his arm.

  “Where are you going?” she ground out. Why was it so effortful to speak? She hated feeling like this. She had to have her wits about her. There was danger in being so out of it.

  Wince sat back down. “Nowhere.”

  The degree to which her tension dissipated surprised Mickey. She snatched her hand from his arm.

  “I won’t leave you,” her unlikely hero stated with conviction. “Not until you’re ready.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Mickey said, her voi
ce sounding like it belonged to someone else. “I’m sure you have things to do.”

  “What I was working on is done now,” Wince replied.

  Mickey shivered, knowing without a doubt, that she was this man’s finished business.

  “My sister,” she warned, “She’s in danger—because of me.”

  Wince smiled darkly. “Honey, you don’t know Dax Jamison yet, but when you meet him, you’ll know—no one messes with his family and lives. Rhee can hold her own. Rest. We’ll deal with everything in the morning.”

  We will? He had said, “We.” Why did that one little word sound so wrong and yet so right?

  And yet…

  The next thing she knew, sunlight streamed through the window, and Mickey was alone.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  After his session at the beach, Dax was still tied up in knots. Even though the break was shit compared to the island waves, while he was in the water, he was out of his head for a while. It was like taking a deep exhale. But the second he got out and checked his phone, he felt like a fuckin’ boa constrictor had wrapped itself around his chest and was beginning to squeeze the goddamn life out of him.

  Things were going bad.

  Worse than bad.

  He made his way to his bunk, wanting nothing more than to crash—he’d had a lifetime of stress in the last two fucking days. The last thing he needed was some used up-looking skank to throw herself at him right before he reached his door.

  “Not now, baby,” Dax looked her up and down. “Not ever.” Yeah, it was cruel but at least he was honest. He was mildly surprised when the girl stood her ground.

  “I’m Alanna’s cousin. I’m with Decker—he rides with the Devils. They have side business with the Chicos. There was a yard party and I heard some of the guys talking tonight. My cousin’s in trouble—and it involves your club.”

  Christ. What the hell has that fuckin’ groupie done now?

  Dax rubbed his eyes, feeling the weight of the club on his damn shoulders. Goddamn it, was he ever going to be done riding this godforsaken line? Yeah, he had a code, but whoever was in charge up there was splitting some hairs now. He couldn’t draw a line in the sand to divide blood from honor. Everything was all tangled up now. Dax heard his own heavy exhale as he stepped away from his door and turned to the girl who waited anxiously before him.

  “Tell one of the girls downstairs to make me some fuckin’ coffee. And whatever you have to say—it better be good.”

  When he was done listening, Dax was wide awake, and it had nothing to do with the piss poor coffee he had been served. Buzzing on adrenaline, he fired off a couple of texts and then he went to track down Slade.

  Wince was going to have to wait.

  ***

  Slade waited for Dax at the appointed location. He had been on Hawk’s ass for the past twenty-four hours and things were looking pretty shady. The man had been to the shipping yard twice. Slade observed him making some calls on a smaller cell phone that wasn’t his regular phone. Now the guy was at the fuckin’ library of all places, dressed like someone’s grandfather, while Slade stuck out like a sore thumb.

  I can’t fuck this gig up.

  His thoughts plagued him every fucking day. Slade had his father’s blood on his hands. Revenge—that was the only way to rinse his soul clean. Slade parked his bike around back near the dumpsters and stowed his cut. There was a set of blue double doors back here that probably opened into the library basement. If he could pop the lock, he could sneak in without drawing attention to himself. His phone pinged with a text.

  Dax.

  Slade reviewed the message and responded with his location. Then, he rolled a joint and sparked it up. Things were about to go down.

  ***

  It didn’t look good. Hawk was indeed meeting with the feds—in the local fuckin’ library of all places. Dax was grinding his teeth again and the damn habit made his jaw ache.

  “How long’s he been in there?”

  Slade glanced at his phone. “About twenty minutes.”

  Dax hesitated at the back door of the library. The last time he was in this place

  things were headed in a whole different direction. Funny how things turned out, he mused. There was a time in his life when Dax actually thought he was going to be a campus man. What a fucking pipe dream. After earning his cut, the life grabbed him by his balls and took him on a helluva ride.

  Through it all, he let his own code of honor dictate his actions.

  He thought Hawk had had a code too.

  Maybe…he was wrong.

  But, as Dax watched his club president, nose-to-nose with a skirt who was wearing a poorly concealed badge, he was seriously concerned. Was that little club whore, Alanna, right about Hawk? How could he have missed this shit? Dax exchanged a glance with Slade and then nodded at the exit. Slade shrugged and took off without a backwards glance. Nice thing about that kid—he followed orders.

  Hawk patted the lady fed’s hand. Dax smiled as she stiffened and yanked her hand away, giving the old boy a stern look. The skirt walked out, but Hawk remained seated at the small table, a faraway look in his eyes. Dax pulled a book from the shelf and made his way over. To his credit, Hawk didn’t look surprised as Dax pulled up a chair and sat down across from him.

  “Hope that’s not cheese, ‘cause it’s not what you think.” Hawk said softly, his gaze on the book tucked into Dax’s hand.

  Dax glanced down at the book in his hand. Heart of Darkness. Sounds appropriate.

  “Word is we got a rat, Hawk. You gotta admit—this right here don’t look too good.”

  “Not a rat, kid.” Hawk sighed. “I was trying to keep you out of this mess.”

  “You make a deal, Hawk?”

  “Let’s go for a ride, kid. Can’t talk about this shit in a fucking library.”

  They walked out in silence, Heart of Darkness tucked heavily into Dax’s back pocket.

  Chapter Fifty

  The contents of her backpack were the only constant in her life. At first, she was afraid to look for it, fearing that Wince or someone else had taken it. She had been in and out of consciousness, and she hadn’t been able to secure her environment like she usually did. But, her trusty bag with its faded patches rested faithfully against the side of the bed. Mickey breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was still there.

  Of course, she had nothing of real value in there, but the things in that old, frayed sack were her personal history. There were bus passes, the chapstick she picked up at a corner store in the ghetto, and that old doll, Amy. Sure, it was strange that she lugged that doll with its faded gingham dress and cracked cheek around with her, but the doll meant a lot to Mickey. Those unseeing black eyes stared at her night after night, witnessing unspeakable horrors.

  It was Rhee’s old doll…the one Mickey had broken so many years ago. Amy was Mickey’s version of a security blanket and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. Amy had seen everything and she was still there—which was more than Mickey could say for anyone else from her past.

  Because I killed them all. As sure as I’m going to get Rhee and her baby killed now.

  The thought chilled her to the bone.

  The man, Wince, stepped out once she was able to convince him she would be okay for a few hours. His phone had been buzzing all night and all day long, and she knew he had club business to attend to. He looked exhausted, like he was about to drop, but she knew how the club came first. Wince had lagged long enough to take care of her, and she was grateful, but she would be damned if she got in the way of another man’s business. She gave him her word that she would stay put until he came back for her, but she was itching to test her ankle. It was a little swollen but overall, Mickey felt much better now.

  After an hour passed, she was unbearably bored.

  She limped to Wince’s desk, where his laptop sat. Even though she knew she probably shouldn’t, she fired the thing up, expecting it to be password protected. It wasn’t�
�a testament to how tired the man obviously was. From the little she knew of him, Wince was one smart dude. How he came to be here was a question she would love to have answered one day. As she clicked the button to activate the browser, her name popped out at her from a file on the desktop.

  Wow. The man had done his homework. She scanned the file names and learned that Wince had some mad skills. He had copies of confidential government files and sealed records on there. One file contained a bunch of images. She got a funny feeling when she opened it—that feeling that warned her away from a bad decision.

  She ignored it.

  Then, she regretted it.

  It all made sense now. All of it. Paul’s behavior when she was younger, the other man’s involvement…and now, she knew his identity. Now, she knew how bad this mess really was. He was an influential politician—one who was making a run for senator this year. No wonder he was featured making donations to charities such as Rhee’s—the pig was trying to ramp up his votes.

  She clicked on some of the other images and found screenshots of websites that catered to men like her stepfather. The significance of those images manifested suddenly and violently. I might be on here somewhere. Mickey barely made it to the bathroom before she heaved up the meager contents of her stomach.

  That light, that blinking red light in the ceiling of her childhood room, and the all-seeing eyes in Amy’s head…

  Mickey had often wondered how Paul financed his high-stakes card games.

  I’m on these sites.

  The dry retching burned her throat and she fell back against the wall of the bathroom, resting her cheek against the cool tile of the toilet. Wince knew. He knew—everything. She was so dirty—God, how could he have tolerated having her in his bed? And if Wince knew everything—Rhee did too. Right?

  Everything except the part where she murdered their mother.

  On shaky legs, Mickey forced herself back to Wince’s desk and reviewed every single thing in that file. When she was done, Mickey’s head pounded and she felt the adrenaline pulse through her body, preparing her to flee. This was worse than she could have ever imagined. She looked around the dim bunk and then down at herself.