by Avelyn Paige
“It’s been a bitch to get cell phone service here, Boss,” Thrasher chimes in.
The men around the table roll their eyes as Irons and Thrasher continue to bitch about the lack of amenities and modern day luxuries.
“You two done bitching like spoiled Malibu Barbies?” Hero pipes up. “We’d like to hear some actual information we can use.”
“Shut the fuck up, Hero,” Irons yells. “You’d be bitching too if you weren’t able to get air conditioning in the pits of hell they call Mexico, too. I think a new river is gonna start out of the crack of my ass if the temperature doesn’t start acting like it’s fall here.”
Glaring at Hero, he slumps back in his chair with a huff as he crosses his arms. Who pissed in his Cheerios today?
“Did you find anything at the coordinates Voodoo gave you?” I ask.
Irons goes mute, and my stomach drops knowing that it’s probably just another dead end.
“Sorry about that, Boss, one of the locals walked up to the truck trying to sell us fresh fruit or some shit. Took a while to get rid of them. Can you repeat the question?”
“Did you find anything at the location?”
“There’s nothing out there but rocks and dirt paths.”
A collective grumble fills the room as Irons interrupts our groaning.
“But, I did find a path leading from that spot that we followed up into the mountain range nearby. It took about two days, but we found a house nestled into the north side of the cliff.”
Voodoo comes out of his seat to my right and leans directly next to the speaker of the phone.
“Please tell me you got an approximate longitude for the place?” he begs.
“Sure did, V. We used those long-range binoculars you lent us—cool shit, by the way—and got a visual on the place. It’s heavily guarded with several expensive fucking cars parked outside. Thrasher should be texting you the coordinates now along with a few pics he’s snapped of license plates in town,” Irons says as Voodoo’s phone chirps in his pocket. He retrieves his phone and looks at it before bolting from the room.
“What kind of security are you talking about?” Hero asks. “Can you give us specifics?”
“Standard issue assault rifles and some pretty big dudes. Guns looked to be an AR-15, but without being closer, I can’t be sure. The last count we have was about twenty armed guards.”
“You see anything else? People or drug vans pulling out of the place?” I inquire, hoping that they could get us at least an idea of who’s running the operation.
“No vans, but the guy in charge looks to be a short, stocky guy with curly brown hair. We’ve been up there a few times to check them out, and he always seems to wear the same damn white hat and pants.”
My heart begins to race at the man’s description. If I didn’t know any better, they could be describing Maj’s Uncle Ricardo Manuel that she used to tell stories about to the kids when they were little. She had fallen out with her family by the time we’d gotten together and she had no desire to ever be considered a relative of theirs. Goddamnit. Even knowing now how much of a fucking liar she was, the story doesn’t seem that far-fetched. I’m betting she practiced that sobbing shit to go along with it for months before she sunk her claws into my dopey ass who soaked up every single word. I am a fucking idiot.
I close my eyes and try to think back to all the times that she described him to the kids. The white hat and pants could be anybody, but I needed to remember some detail that would distinguish him from the rest of the cartel. Just as I am about to give up, a thought hits me.
“Irons, did you get a good look at his shoes?”
“Jesus, man. This isn’t some fashion show. Why would his shoes matter?” Ratchet expresses.
“Just humor me, okay?” I reply back to him. “Were they lime green, Irons?”
I hear muffled mumbling in the background as he confers with Thrasher before coming back to us.
“They sure were, Prez. Thrasher said he could see them from a mile away.”
My stomach jumps to my throat as I am on my feet in an instant barking out orders.
“I need you to get extra eyes on my mom’s and Darcy’s parents houses in Arizona. I want them to have rotating watch details of two or more until they hear otherwise.” While I had just a single prospect watching each house, I’d feel better knowing that when the shit hits the fan for real this time that they are better protected. The thought crosses my mind of sending Darcy, Dani, and Ricca out there until we get back, but that’s a bridge that I’ll have to cross after getting the rest of the details down.
“Call Trax, Mistral, and Hazzard, and tell them to get their crews and get their asses to Mexico. Make sure they come and are ready for a fight.”
The men around the table stare at me in silence, questioning why someone’s shoe color would set me off into motion.
“When my ex-wife talked about her family, she always mentioned an uncle who was a drug dealer and how he always wore these ridiculous green shoes. The man in the green shoes is Ricardo Manuel, the fucking head of the cartel. If he’s there, we found their base of operations. Kiss your old ladies and hug your kids, gentleman. This time we’ll be settling things once and for all.”
As the men file out of the room, I know what I have to do to protect Darcy. I’ve fought myself knowing that what I have planned will not only destroy what we’ve built together over the last few months beyond repair, but me as well. There is no turning back once the decision has been made, and I know that I have to end this before she becomes the next victim in this war. She’ll be safer without me, but I’m not sure if I can say the same thing for myself.
Waking up to find Michael gone in the mornings this week has still taken some getting used to. I know it’s crazy to think that after only a few weeks that I have come to care so much about him. It might be too soon to throw the L word around, but even I can’t deny that he makes those feelings stir instead of me. I roll over onto my belly and pull his pillow underneath me in my arms, snuggling up to his scent that still lingers. I’ll admit that at first I thought our bond came from our individual grief, but this connection we have is so much deeper.
I must have dozed back off because I wake up in a panic as his door swings open with a slam as it hits the wall. He stomps into the room and immediately goes toward his closet with a bag in his hand. What the hell is going on? My stomach falls as I watch him place everything that I have stored away in his room into the bag including my home business laptop. His face is unreadable, yet I can feel the anger wafting off of him thick waves.
“Am I going somewhere?” I ask sheepishly.
“Yes, out of here and away from me.”
“But, I don’t understand,” I stammer.
“This isn’t for you to understand, Darcy. I told you from the very beginning that when one of us needs out then that’s all there is to it.”
“Why are you doing this? I thought you were happy with the way things we’re going with us,” I plead to him as he throws my full suitcase by the opened door.
“I am,” he stutters. “I mean, I was, but shit changes at a moment’s notice. You scratched an itch that needed scratching, but that shit’s finished now. I need you to gather anything else you have left and be out within the hour. Slider is waiting to take you to your parent’s house. Once you can come back, someone from the club will let you know.”
I slide my legs from the bed and let my legs carry me toward him to face the man that is actively trying to break my heart. My stomach rises to my throat, nearly choking me as I try to understand his sudden change of heart. Last night, he was sweet and loving, but today, the asshole that he can be is standing before me trying to throw us away, and for what? Fear of getting to close? Pride? He can’t be the asshole he was before because I’ve seen the real him far more than the other side of him that he’s currently displaying.
“This isn’t about us. Something has you spooked, and it’s easier to shove me away than i
t is to fucking let me in so I can help you.”
“Help me? Darcy, you couldn’t help me even if you put a bullet into my brain and put me out of my misery. You need to stop trying to explain this shit out. I’m done, we’re over. Time to move on before things get even worse than they already are.”
I try to reach up and touch him, praying that he’ll soften feeling me trying to desperately hold onto our connection, but he brushes my hand away and tries to leave. I bolt for the door and slam it shut, narrowly missing his face. He stands stunned as I flip the lock and force him into the conversation he’s trying to avoid. He growls as he charges toward me and pins me against the back of the door with his body as his hands land harshly on the door on the either side of my face.
“Tell me what is going on and where this is all coming from. Are you and the club leaving?”
“Yes, and that’s all I’m going to say. Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” I can tell from the tension in his arms and the turmoil swirling in his eyes that this isn’t what he wants. He’s fighting himself as he tries to keep his charade going.
“Where are you going, and why can’t I come along?” I scream.
“Because where I am going and what I am about to do could kill you or anyone involved that doesn’t already know the risks. I’m not going to put you into harm’s way because I can’t handle being away from you for even a second. It’s for your own good that you leave here and me. I’m too dangerous for you to be around anymore.”
“That’s why you’re pushing me away and out of your life? To protect me? Jesus fucking Christ, Michael. The most dangerous place for me is to be away from you, or have you forgotten about those promises you made to me?”
“You don’t know what you are saying. If you knew the things that I have done, you’d be running away from me.”
“I don’t know because you won’t let me in.”
“I don’t let you in because it would fucking get you killed,” he snarls at me. “Why can’t you see that I am protecting you by sending you away?”
“How are you protecting me if you are keeping me in the dark? I can’t see what’s coming if you constantly act as my buffer from all the bad shit in this world.”
He punches the door and recoils knowing how close he came to hitting me. I know he’s angry and that he would never touch me in a hurtful way, but feeling the wind as his fist passed my face startled me enough that heavy tears trickle down my face from fear. He shoves himself away from me and paces the room.
“Show me how bad it can get. I can’t understand what it means to be with you if you can’t show me.”
He stops mid-step and stomps over to me, grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me out the door in only his t-shirt that I had slept in last night. He escorts me out of the clubhouse with all of the people watching in silence and to a shed on the back side of the property. He throws open the door and shoves me inside. The shed is empty except for a few ropes swaying off the rafters.
“You want to know what it’s like to be around me so badly, let me show you where I found your husband, hanging from the rafters with those ropes tied around his wrists like Jesus Christ on the cross. They fucking left him hanging here bloody and beaten because of his association with this club and because of me. I fucking did this to him,” he screams at me.
“No,” I mutter shaking my head in disbelief. “I don’t believe you. You are just trying to scare me into leaving so you don’t have to deal with me or us anymore.”
“Darcy, I’m not lying to you. This is where we found him that morning. If you don’t believe me, you can ask the man who found his lifeless body in here. Ratchet.”
A scream rips from my throat as I launch myself at him, trying to hurt him in some way before he grabs me by the wrists and stops me from clawing at him. Indescribable pain rips apart my body as I fight against his grasp, trying to take a swipe at him.
“You fucking killed my husband,” I sob into his shirt. “You killed him.”
“Yes, darlin’, I am one of the reasons he’s dead. I may not have pulled the trigger, but I am just as guilty as the person who did.”
“Who?” I screech. “Who killed him?”
“My wife.”
“What?” I question. “Maj killed my husband?”
“Yes,” he says, and his head hangs in defeat.
“How long have you known it was her?” I demand from him.
“Since Tijuana.”
I can see how much it hurts for him to tell me, but I should have known so much sooner than now. He should have told me before we started down the path of being together. So many things would have been different, and right now, I hate him for lying to me. Had I known the ugly truth the day Brent died, I can’t be sure that I wouldn’t have killed Michael with my own hand for his part in this along with his fucking wife.
“You fucking son-of-a-bitch,” I wail as I try to charge at him again, but his body holds me in my place. “You’ve known this entire time. The entire time we’ve been together,” I scream in disbelief that he took me to his bed knowing what his wife had cost me. “Has this all been a fucking game to you? Our relationship? The feelings we have for each other?”
“No, what’s going on between us wasn’t a fucking game, Darcy. Maybe a fucked up idea that this could work out between us at first, but I had never intended for any of this to happen. I just wanted to make you happy.”
“You didn’t make me happy, you bastard. You made me fall in love with you.”
He starts to stutter out more useless words before he just stops dead mid-sentence and stares at me. He tries to step closer to me, but I back away, putting a few feet of distance between us. His eyes say it all as he tries to gain ground on me.
“Stay away from me, you fucking bastard.”
“Darcy, I—” he stammers before I throw up my hand to stop him.
“I don’t want to hear your apologies or even some heartfelt declaration of your fucked-up version of love or even lust for me. Like you said earlier, it’s fucking over. You were right when you said you couldn’t protect me because you can’t protect me from yourself.”
He takes a step, and I counter by stepping back.
“The man that loved me died just above where I am standing, so I guess it’s a fitting enough place for the feelings that I had for you to die as well.”
“Believe me, Darcy,” he starts. “I know how you feel. My wife betrayed me just as she did you. She took a life that meant more to me than my own. I would have died a thousand times just to spare his life because I am just like my fucking father. I bring on my own destruction, and it’s by my own hand that I kill and destroy everything in my path. I promise you that I will fix this.”
“That’s where you are wrong. You won’t fix this, I will. I want to kill the bitch for this. Track her ass down, and when you find her, I want her on her knees in front of me. I want to watch her beg for her life and to see her take her last breath before I put a bullet in her brain. Only then will I be satisfied.”
“She’s already dead. She died the day she betrayed Dani and nearly cost her life. I should have known then that her treachery ran far deeper than just handing over Dani for fucking cash.”
“She’s the reason for Dani’s kidnapping? Jesus, Michael what else have you turned a blind eye to avoid having to deal with shit?”
He sighs and stares at me with sadness behind his blue eyes. “Maj was using me and our marriage to bring in cartel members into the clubs to expand their drug territories. Jagger caught wind of what was going on and started tracking her movements. He’d been following her for a while before she arranged his murder.”
“That’s why you’re leaving. You are going down to Mexico to settle the score, aren’t you?”
“Yes, we’re leaving in the morning to join the men already there. We plan to clean out their compound and end this before more blood is spilled.”
I stalk over to him and square off my body, looking h
im straight in his face.
“I’m going with you.”
“The fuck you are,” he spats. “I wasn’t kidding about you getting the fuck out of dodge, Darcy. I don’t want you anywhere near this shit storm.”
“That’s where you are wrong,” I start. “The way I see it, Brent died because of his fucking loyalty to you and just knowing you seems to be a reason for the grim reaper to mark us all for death. Now, because of the both of you, my kids are in danger, and quite frankly, I’ve had enough bullshit to last a lifetime. So either you fix this with my help, Michael, or you learn to live with more innocent blood on your hands.”
“That a threat?”
“It’s a motherfucking promise.”
Have you ever had a moment in your life when you instantly regretted an exchange or an argument? I know I sure fucking have. I knew I fucked up everything the very second I decided to push her out to keep her out of harm’s way. The words of my brothers clouded my fucking judgment and my need to protect her at all costs including breaking her heart, and in the process, my own went into overdrive. In the short walk from Church to my room where she laid sleeping, I made the decision that not only killed any chances I had with her, but of the future I had been dreaming about. I told her the ugly truth.
Trust me, doing what I did was far from easy because my heart screamed from inside of my chest. My mind begging for me to stop my idiocracy and just tell her the truth calmly. But, no, I stooped so low as to just pack her bags and telling her to get the fuck out of my life. The moment my anger got the best of me as I landed a punch on the door of my room just inches from her beautiful face, I knew I had crossed the line, but I couldn’t stop myself from continuing to torture her.
Taking her to the shed and laying it out for her in such a crude manner was me hitting rock bottom. As she screamed at me in the shed, I wanted so badly to take her in my arms and admit to her that she was right about everything. It was my shortcomings as a man, a husband, and mostly as a leader for this club that not only delivered pain to her family, but to my own. I should have known what was going on with my wife, and I should have stopped it before it cost Jagger his life, but I was too blinded by trying to keep the family mentality going for my kids.