Blood and Honor

by Vixen, Jayna

“You heard the man, puta.”

  Thatcher’s face reflected recognition followed by shock. “After all this time, my original Darling Doll has come back to Daddy,” he breathed, as his eyes traveled up and down Mickey’s slight frame.

  Wince thought she was going to crumble where she stood, but that stubborn Blake blood that ran through her veins took over. From his vantage point behind the girl, he watched as she squared her shoulders and stood straight up, facing her demon.

  “You sick bastard,” Mickey hissed.

  “Aw, sweetheart, don’t be that way to Daddy,” Thatcher’s voice hardened.

  “Fuck you!”

  “I plan to, baby. I was your first; I should be your last. Don’t you agree?” Thatcher came closer still, his eyes on Mickey. Wince could see that his attention was completely diverted by her presence.

  “You’ll have to kill me first, you pig,” Mickey spat.

  “I think I’ll have Juan and his amigo kill your Phantom friend first. Then, the three of us are going to fuck you until you tell me where that little video your step daddy made is. You know what I’m talking about…don’t you, Mouse?”

  When he uttered that final word, Mickey seemed to snap. “Don’t fucking call me that!”

  The next thing he knew, the tiny slip of a girl launched herself at the dirty politician, catching him by surprise. They went down in a heap. Juan rushed towards the struggling ball of girl and man. He wasn’t able to do much with only one functioning hand, so the man behind Wince joined the fray.

  “Get this crazy bitch off me,” Thatcher huffed, as Juan and the other man pulled Mickey to standing position.

  “You stupid little bitch.” Thatcher pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to the scratches on his face.

  Using his good hand, Juan leveled his weapon at Wince and shoved Mickey to her knees at Wince’s feet. The other man had his gun trained on Wince’s midsection. He looked over his shoulder. They had all switched positions, but things looked the same in terms of an escape route. Now, they had their backs to the edge of the loading dock. If they ran for it, they might be able to hit the water but they’d be sitting ducks there.

  Fuck.

  “What do you want me to do now, cabron?”

  “Shoot them, you idiot! With the girl dead, the evidence dies with her. I have a delivery to make.”

  Juan smiled grimly. “My pleasure.”

  Wince shoved Mickey behind him, knowing that the bullets in Juan’s assault rifle would go right through him. He felt Mickey’s arms go around his waist in a tentative hug.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I never should have gotten you into this mess.”

  “It’s okay, baby. Close your eyes.” Wince placed his rough hands over her own. He closed his own eyes and waited for the inevitable.

  I hope we both go quick.

  It wasn’t to be. Juan was a bit of a talker. “Bet you didn’t know I can still shoot this baby with one hand, eh? My aim’s not so good though, not anymore. I’ll probably get you in the stomach a few times. Then, my boy here will finish you off.”

  He raised his weapon.

  A loud noise came from somewhere over their heads, and Wince’s eyes flew back open. A large machine that resembled a huge forklift was barreling towards the massive pile of steel pipes just behind Thatcher. It looked like there was no driver but Juan let out a yell and started shooting at the machine. Wince grabbed Mickey and shoved her against the far wall just as there was a deafening crash.

  The stack of pipes collapsed. The pile of metal hit the ground hard enough to rattle the whole dock. The noise was so loud it almost drowned out the hideous scream that sounded a few seconds later. More screams issued from inside the container and it dented as a literal ton of steel crashed into one of the sides. A final pipe rolled slowly, coming to a stop just before it hit the water.

  Then, there was silence.

  All Wince could hear was the sound of his own heart beating in his chest.

  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, what the hell just happened?” he asked, mostly to himself. He shook his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears.

  Mickey started to speak and he cut her off.

  “Stay here. I mean it.” She nodded, taking in big gulps of air.

  Wince dropped to the ground and crawled around the side of the container to survey the deadly scene. Juan lay on his back, moaning in agony, his foot trapped beneath one of the enormous pipes. The other man was nowhere to be found. Wince scanned the loading dock for Thatcher, but there was no sign of him either.

  A rustling sound came from the forklift and Wince trained his weapon on it. A pair of cracked sunglasses came tumbling out and skidded across the floor. Then, to Wince’s surprise, Slade appeared from the operator’s hatch. He pulled himself out and carefully felt his way down the jumble of tangled metal and machine. He nodded at the havoc he had created and grinned at Wince.

  “Glad I knew how to drive that fucker.”

  Juan apparently caught sight of Slade too. “Amigo, por favor, ayudame,” the Chicos president moaned.

  Slade produced an impressive piece from his waistband. “Oh, I’ll help you all right, you piece of shit.”

  The venom in Slade’s voice carried across the building. “You remember that jewelry store you fucking torched in Harborville? My mother was inside. I’ve been waiting a long ass time for this.”

  A movement behind him startled Wince and he just about put his elbow through Mickey’s nose. “Jesus, woman! I told you to stay fuckin’ put.” He pulled her down next to him. “You and Rhee, dammit,” he muttered.

  There was a loud piercing scream. Wince whipped his head around in time to see Slade snap Juan’s kneecap with his boot. Then, a single gunshot rang out. The screaming became a gurgle and then the sound abruptly ceased.

  “Wince,” Slade called out in a loud whisper. “You okay, brother?”

  Wince pulled Mickey to her feet, adrenaline still surging in his veins.

  “Damn, kid. You know how to make an entrance,” Wince whistled as he surveyed the damage. “Where are the other two?”

  Slade gestured to a dark, red stain that was beginning to seep out from beneath the center of the disaster. Mickey swayed on her feet, so Wince swung her up into his arms.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. What’s left of them is under all this shit.”

  “Jesus. What a way to go.”

  Slade clapped his arm around Wince’s shoulders. “Got what they deserved. So did that prick.” He spat in the general direction of Juan’s remains.

  Wince nodded. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “What the fuck do we do now?”

  Before Wince had time to respond, men in black swarmed the building.

  “Drop your weapons!”

  Slade froze and looked to Wince for direction. His arms were full of Mickey and he wasn’t about to drop her on her ass. Then, a familiar voice called out.

  “Those are my guys.”

  Agent Marino made brief eye contact with Wince. “Get the fuck out of here,” Marino commanded, as he sprinted to the container.

  Wince didn’t need to be told twice. He and Slade darted out the back and ran for the street. A black van idled at the curb. Slade yanked the side door open and Wince fell into the floor of the vehicle, Mickey still clutched in his arms.

  The driver gunned the engine and they took off like a shot, tires squealing.

  “Let go, I—I can’t breathe,” Mickey rasped in his ear.

  Wince released his hold on the girl and tried to get his mind to cooperate. He sat up and looked to the driver, then did a double take.

  “Damn, kid. That wasn’t the plan me and Dax cooked up with the feds, but it worked out just the same. Better maybe. Nice work.”

  Wince fell back against the seat, too shocked to reply to his club president.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Dax paced anxiously. Things were supposed to go off without a hitch—
the feds were gonna bust Thatcher, seize the trafficked container, and look the other way when it came to the rest of the Phantoms’ cargo. There had been no word from anyone on the sting for the last thirty minutes. The Phantoms and their affiliates were on lockdown at the compound until this thing was done. There was no telling how far it went but retaliation from the Chicos was a very real possibility right now.

  “What the fuck is going on, Dax?” Rhee hissed, her hands over Sirena’s ears. “First you do everything in your power to keep me away from here and then you basically jail us in here!”

  Dax couldn’t think with Rhee railing on about nothing. “Fucking do something to distract the stowaway, would you?” he growled at Charisma, who was seated in Gray’s lap.

  Charisma looked startled but got up immediately and made her way over to Rhee. Dax paced some more. Where the fuck was Wince? The kid hadn’t behaved according to the plan, and it was worrisome as fuck. Dax didn’t like taking a fuckin’ backseat to the drama, but Hawk had played the guilt card, reminding him that he had a woman and a kid who needed him. Dax had agreed to stay behind—-just this once—and keep his hands clean. Now, he regretted the hell out of that decision. The guys should have been back by now, and they weren’t—which could only mean that something had gone wrong.

  “Fuck!” Dax slammed his fist down so hard on the table that one of the groupies shrieked.

  Just as he was about to lose his shit for real, his phone buzzed with a text.

  “Open the fuckin’ gate!” He roared.

  Dax threw the main door open just as the van barreled into the compound. It skidded to a halt just a couple of inches from the porch. Hawk burst out of the driver’s seat, a huge grin on his face.

  “It’s over, kid.” He clapped Dax on the back and headed inside. “I need me a shot of the good stuff.”

  The side door opened slowly and Slade emerged. “Man, that was fuckin’ crazy,” he commented, shaking his head as though he couldn’t believe what he had experienced.

  Then, Slade let out a whoop that surprised everyone within earshot. He dropped to his knees on the porch. “It’s done, pop. It’s fucking done.”

  Dax stared at Slade, shaking his head. What the fuck was the kid talking about? As he watched Slade’s odd behavior, another sound from the vehicle made him turn back around. Wince stepped out of the and blinked as the sun hit him square in the face. The kid looked totally fuckin’ done, but as it turned out, he wasn’t done at all. Not by a long shot.

  Wince turned back to the van and held out his hand to help a shaky-looking female step out.

  “Dax Jamison! You better tell me what the hell is going on, or your balls are on dry dock for the next month!” Rhee punched Dax in the shoulder to get his attention, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Wince and that girl.

  Dax recognized her—and from the loud gasp that issued from her mouth, Rhiannon did, too.

  ***

  There was just no explaining the circumstances without the existence of a divine plan. When Mickey stepped out of the van, the first person she saw was a ridiculously good-looking guy with spiky, white-blond hair. From the look on his chiseled face, this guy knew exactly who she was. His piercing blue eyes widened as he looked from her to Wince. Wince had his arm around her waist, which was a good thing because she felt pretty shaky.

  For some reason, Wince’s hands on her body didn’t make her skin crawl, the way she usually felt when men touched her. Mickey filed that thought away to digest later. The handsome man continued to stare at her. His mouth opened and closed, as though he meant to say something but couldn’t decide what words to use.

  Then, the door flew open, and for a second Mickey failed to register that this sassy, young woman was in fact, her sister Rhiannon. Mickey felt herself tense. The time had come to face Rhee, admit what she had done all those years ago, and bow out as gracefully as she could manage. Rhee stared at Mickey for approximately three seconds before she let out a startled yelp and rushed to her. Mickey found herself pulled into her sister’s arms.

  Overcome, they both ended up sinking to their knees in the dirt. Mickey’s face was buried in Rhee’s shirt, her tears soaking the thin cotton. Rhee was clearly overjoyed to see her, but she still didn’t know the truth. Mickey couldn’t bear it. This reunion was false and she couldn’t go another minute without admitting her crimes.

  “Rhee—wait. Wait. Don’t,” she gasped, pushing out of her sister’s grasp.

  “Don’t? What the hell do you mean, don’t? Michaela Blake where the hell have you been?” Rhee sounded confused and angry. Well, no point denying the inevitable.

  “I ran from so much, Rhee. But you need to know something. I—I…” The words stuck in her throat and she began to cough.

  “Wince! Get this fucking reunion off the front porch,” the tall, blond man growled.

  Wince offered Mickey his arm but Rhee refused to let her go. A moment later, the intimidating blond man stuck a finger in her ribs. Rhee shrieked and let go of Mickey’s arm. An instant later, her big, muscled boyfriend tossed her over his shoulder.

  “Dax! Put me down right now, you big—-ooh!”

  Mickey blinked as the man’s hand came down hard on her sister’s rear. Damn, her boyfriend sure knew how to handle her sister. Warily, she regarded Wince, wondering if he meant to haul her inside as well. He raised a brow at her, and instead held out his hand. She hesitated a moment and then gingerly reached out to take it. He pulled her up gently, keeping her hand securely in his own as he walked her inside.

  It was the second time in so many minutes that she noticed her own lack of revulsion to the man’s touch.

  ***

  “Meeting room. Now.” Dax gestured to Slade, Hawk, Wince, and Mickey. He had already deposited his woman in the office.

  The chosen ones filed in. Hawk looked half-drunk already. Dax wasn’t sure what the hell was up with Slade, but the man looked like he had just won the lottery. As soon as everyone entered, Rhee rushed to Mickey and grabbed her free hand.

  “I need some time with my sister, Dax.”

  “You’ll get all the time you need, darlin.’ Let’s sort this shit first. I need to know what the fuck is going on, starting with you, Wince.”

  Wince looked a little guilty. “I ran across Mickey a few nights ago.”

  “What the fuck do you mean?” Dax roared. Then, he noticed the fearful look on Mickey’s face and he figured he’d better calm the fuck down. He’d seen that look before. The girl had been traumatized. Dax would try to tread carefully here.

  “She was headed here to find Rhee, Dax. She ran in front of my bike.”

  “Are you telling me that Rhee’s sister was in my clubhouse for three fucking days, and you didn’t tell me?”

  Dax slammed his fist onto the table. Mickey let out a shriek.

  “I am done with this interrogation, Dax. I don’t know what the hell you have all been up to,” Rhee glared at both Wince and Dax in turn, “but I’m taking my sister to our room to rest. Charisma has Sirena.”

  With that, his feisty ass woman stood up and took Mickey by the hand. “Come on, Mouse.”

  As if she were in daze, Mickey got up and blinked several times. Then, she nodded at the assembled men, and allowed Rhee to lead her out of the room. The door shut with a click. Dax turned his irate gaze back on his club president, Wince, and Slade.

  “All right, you fuckers. Let’s have it.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  “What I’m gonna say doesn’t leave this room. Understand?” Hawk began, sounding slightly less wasted.

  Dax looked like he was about to explode. “Talk, brother. No bullshit.”

  “You all know this club was founded by Crow and some of the guys who fought in ‘Nam.”

  Wince nodded. There was enough war memorabilia in the compound to start their own army.

  “Well, what you don’t know is that Don Marino and me were in the same platoon,” Hawk admitted.

  “Shit, no way,
” Wince said. Agent Marino had first made an appearance on the island. The man had covered their asses. Wince always wondered about that.

  “Yeah…it was me, Marino, and…Thatcher.”

  “Thatcher? The piece of shit Slade just turned into a pancake?” Dax asked, incredulous.

  “The one and only.” Hawk pulled a cigar from his pocket.

  “Marino asked me to help him and I couldn’t refuse. Didn’t want to, anyhow. We both wanted to get Thatcher, and the Chicos too, since they were helping that bastard traffic those girls.”

  “So you…you’re working with the feds?” Slade hissed.

  “Don’t give me your lip, kid. This goes back farther than any of you.”

  Dax pushed his hand through his hair. “Tell us.”

  “Me and Marino fought along side some great guys. Most of ‘em were young, like us, and scared shitless. You can’t understand what we went through unless you were there. The things we saw—the things we did—it fucked us up. But some guys, they were fucked up to begin with. Thatcher…he was one of those.”

  “What did he do?” Wince asked.

  “We had orders to take out a village—there were rumors that the people there were housing ammunition and enemy soldiers. Marino and I led the mission and we discovered that most of the inhabitants were just scared women and children, waiting for their husbands to return. We searched every one of those damn huts and we didn’t find a single fucking weapon.”

  Hawk paused, lit his cigar, and took a slow puff. A faraway, troubled look settled on his face. “We heard screaming coming from one of the smaller huts. When Marino and I went to check it out, we found Thatcher inside. With a little girl.”

  “How fuckin’ little, Hawk?” Dax demanded.

  “Couldn’t have been more than ten. It was an awful thing to see. The fucker actually asked us if we wanted a turn. He tore this poor kid to shit and he had no remorse—none at all. The next thing we knew, our commanding officer did a sweep and when he saw what Thatcher had done, he ordered us to level the place.”

  “What did you do?” Slade asked.

  Hawk shrugged. “Burned it to the ground. We had no choice.”