by Tara Oakes
For now though, I need to get the fuck outta here and down to the club where Chase and Catarina are hiding out.
I check on Sasha really quick through the bedroom door that she insists stay open in case monsters show up at night. She’s out cold, cuddling the pink bunny rabbit doll she loves so much.
With the house lights off, I have nothing but the nightlights that Angel plugged in every other outlet for Sasha’s benefit, to lead me down the stairs. I grab my keys and my cut before heading out, setting the alarm and locking the door behind me.
Esè’s sitting on the front porch with three of the newest prospects, called here to guard the place until I return. I have no idea what Jimenez is capable of, but three men guarding my home and my girls better be enough to take care of it. Worse comes to worse, I can always bring everyone down to the clubhouse, although I’m hesitant to do that. All the people that I love and care about in one place makes me nervous. They could be sitting ducks.
It’s better this way. Jimenez can’t hit more than one target at a time, not effectively. He’s not comin’ for hostages, not yet, at least. He’s coming for victims. And he’s comin’ for the ones that will mean the most to him first.
He’s comin’ for the people who disrespected him, who had the balls to stand up to him. He’s comin’ for the Slayers. He’s comin’ for me.
I leave Esè with strict instructions. The same ones I left for Angel in the note next to her cellphone. She doesn’t leave the house. Nobody does. Not until I tell her to.
The streetlights eerily power off as the earliest rays of sunrise begin to creep over the hills in the east. My house is less than eight minutes from the club, but with the empty early morning streets, I’m able to make it there in six. Probably woke more than a few people up with the sounds of the racing engine.
It’s only one engine, only my bike. I’ve called all the rest of the brothers, except the ones guarding my house, to the club to prepare for what’s coming our way.
The lot’s full of their bikes, neatly arranged in ranking order. One bike sticks out and I’m not at all happy to see it. Once my own Harley is added to the parked collection, I leave it and call out to Twist who’s guarding the door.
My hand rests on the handlebars of the bike that should not be here. “He in there?” I reference the mysterious rider whose bike I’m touching.
Twist, short for Twisted, nods. “Got here ten minutes ago.”
My teeth grit as I walk through the door Twist holds open for me.
Men are sitting at every table, sipping coffee and eating doughnuts that someone with half a brain had the good sense to bring. I see the man I’m looking for almost immediately.
“Stitch!” He turns as he hears my voice. I know why he’s here, hell, I’d be here too if I were in his shoes, but I’m not right now, and that means I have the benefit of reason on my side looking at things from another perspective.
“I’m not leaving. Don’t even bother to ask.” He casually informs me.
I laugh. “I don’t ask. I fucking give orders. Now get the hell outta here and get back to your wife and kid.”
He shakes his head defiantly. “I’m not abandoning my club at a time like this.”
I don’t blame him. That don’t mean I’m gonna let it happen though. “You’re not abandoning your club. You’re doing what your Prez, what I’m, telling you to. You’re not even out twelve hours yet and you’re just itching to get jammed for breaking parole and get your ass thrown back in the hole. Not gonna happen. I need you to fuckin’ think, man. If shit goes down, I’m gonna need someone I trust to take care of shit for me. That’s you. Now get your shit, get to the hospital where you belong right now. If they release your woman any time soon, you get her over to my house. I got some guys over there. It’s safe.”
He moves to protest, but I walk past him to the bunker, leaving him to curse at me. Normally I don’t let shit like that fly, but these are special circumstances. Each one of these men knows I love Stitch like a blood brother and they know I’ll take a few shots of his angry mouth if it means getting him to see the light.
He’s still swearing up a storm by the time I close out his voice behind the bunker door. With most of the cranky ass brothers out in the main room, the bunker is close to empty with only Catarina, Chase, and Uno sitting at the round table, talking in hushed voices that quiet as they see me.
“You guys good?” I ask, sensing that there’s a tenseness between them.
Uno looks up. “The girl’s got a lot to say. Not sure I believe any of it, but you should hear it.”
“She’s not fuckin’ lyin’!” Chase jumps to his feet.
“Whoa!” I mediate. “If she’s got something to say, I’ll listen to it. Then I’ll be the one to decide whether she’s lyin’ or not!”
Neither man seems overly pleased with my suggestion, but they take it.
“Now what you got to say to me, darlin’?” I pull up a chair and rest my feet on the empty seat next to me, crossing my ankles.
Her eyes dart to Chase and he nods, signaling it’s okay to talk to me.
I get that I don’t give off the whole friendly vibe, but I got two ears. I can listen.
“Chase showed me a picture of the two men that burned down your cabin,” she starts.
Yeah, I saw it too. The security cameras we had set up near the entrance to the private road leading up to the cabin and inside the main living room of the place are available to anyone with the app. Gryff, Chase, and I are the only ones who even know about it to access it. I didn’t look at it much over the past week or so to give these two their privacy, but when I got wind that the car we were tracking was headed their way, you bet your ass I kept watch.
“I know one of them. Maybe even both of them, but I can’t be sure about the second person. The shorter man, the one missing a finger on one hand, his name is Pepe. He’s worked for my father ever since I can remember.” I trust her at her description, because I can’t remember whether or not the scumbag was dealing with all ten digits or not.
“Is it possible he was working with your cousin Mateo, too?” Mateo himself told me that he knew exactly where Catarina was stashed. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think he finally decided to pay a visit, although it doesn’t necessarily add up when I think about him working to have Stitch granted parole, or the fact that he seems to care for Catarina. He must have known that it was at least a possibility that we would discover the sneak attack and possibly hurt the girl, although that really isn’t our style, or that she could get caught in the crossfire.
Catarina grows quiet.
“Go ahead. Tell them.” Chase urges her.
I find myself leaning in to hear. I have a feeling this is gonna be good, in a fucked up kinda way.
She takes a deep breath. “My father is a monster. A murderer. He killed every single member of my mother’s family and even had Mateo’s father killed. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. He’s ruthless. He needs to be stopped.”
Interesting… Not exactly the loyalty I was expecting from a kingpin’s own daughter. I guess this is what Chase was referring to when he said that there were things about Catarina that we were wrong about.
“Mateo,” she continues gratefully, as if she’s lifting a huge weight off her shoulders, “he wants to get rid of father. He has for a long time, but we both knew it would never work. Father is too strong. But then, by some twist of fate, you all came into the picture.”
She scans her eyes over the three Slayers sitting near her, obviously referring to my club as the people who fate intervened and brought to her.
“I can tell you that no matter what you think, my father will never cooperate with you. Never. There’s only one way to get around an obstacle like that. Mateo will do it. He just needs a chance and he needs a strong backing so that the other members of fathers organization don’t swoop in to take it from him when father is gone. Mateo thinks this can work. He told me. Please, I beg you. Help us.”
Well
this sure is a crazy twist to all of this.
“Chase,” I’m brainstorming as I’m talking. “See if Stitch is still outside. Knowing him, he’s probably still losing his temper. Tell him to take Catarina over to my place. I’ve got men over there that can keep on eye on them.”
My enforcer stands to do as I’ve him.
“Cat,” the girl says.
Huh? “No. Don’t got no pets there. Why? You allergic or something?”
Both she and Chase laugh. “No. Please, call me Cat.”
“Or Tush,” Chase interjects. Cat smacks the back of his head, not liking the invitation he’s given me.
Great. He gave her a fuckin’ nickname. This kid’s in deeper than I gave him credit for. I can’t help but sneak a peek as they both leave the bunker.
Tush.
Suits her.
~*~
“Don’t like this, D. Not one bit. Can’t trust any of these fuckin’ Cartel shit bags.” Uno expresses his objection yet again.
I silence him with nothing more than a stare. I’ve heard enough. I’m already second guessing myself, I don’t need him adding to it.
I’ve gotten word from Stitch that he’s brought Cat over to my place and he’ll stay to add to the muscle watching over them until Baby is ready to be discharged from the hospital later tonight.
I’ll admit, it was a relief to hear him offer it. I’d never in a million years ask him to skip out on his Ol’ lady and kid to watch over my own, but the hospital is the safest place for Baby to be right now. His woman is safe. And now, with him at my place watching over my own, I feel a fuckin’ whole lot better about the safety of my own family.
There’s no one in this world I trust more that Stitch. He’ll take a bullet, hell he’ll even take ten if he needs to, just like I’d do for his woman. I got enough to worry about with this Cartel shit. I don’t need to be stretched thin worrying about Angel and Sasha, too. That’s Stitch’s job right now.
“Let’s go over this again,” I call out so all my men can hear me. “Everyone’s on their game today. We don’t know who to trust, so we’re no gonna trust anyone who’s not wearing a patch on their back.”
Everyone nods in unison, feeling the weight of my words. We’re about to get put smack in the middle of a fucking war, and we don’t know much about either side.
“He’s here,” Twist announces, still standing guard near the front entrance.
Here we go.
~*~
ANGEL
“Here you go,” I place the hot cup of tea down in front of the young woman sitting at my kitchen table. Cat, I remind myself. Her name’s Cat.
Stitch dropped her off about twenty minutes ago with almost no explanation other than Dawson told him to. Oh, and he also had a whole other list of directives from Dawson, mirroring almost word for word what was left behind in a note when I woke up.
No leaving the house, no going outside, no one comes over. Great. I’d known something was up these last few weeks, but Dawson specifically asked me to let him handle everything, that he would take care of it.
I guess this is what he meant by that.
“Thanks,” Cat sips the steaming cup but decides it needs to cool a bit and places it back down on the wooden table.
I take a seat and decide to figure out what he hell’s going on here. It’s not like Dawson’s gonna tell me any time soon.
“So, where ya from Cat?” I ask innocently enough.
“Near El Paso on the other side of the border. But I go to school in Texas.” She answers without giving specifics.
I blow a stream of air over my own cup before sipping. “Really? What are you studying?”
She seems to light up at that question. “Biology. Pre-med.”
Wow. Impressive. “I majored in Mathematics, Numerical Theory. I never did well in Biology. That’s hard stuff.”
Her shoulders rise and fall. “I guess some of it is. Depends on how you approach it. Math isn’t easy either.” She returns the compliment as we both admire each other’s academic record.
She’s intelligent. I decide to forgo the nonsense and cut right to the chance. “So what are you doing here, Cat?”
I make sure I posed the question in a way that can’t be mistaken for bitchy. I have a question; she has an answer. It’s a simple transaction, and equation of sorts. Surely the scientist in her can understand that.
“I—it’s a long story,” she warns.
I sigh. Judging from the cryptic note Dawson left for me this morning and the four armed men keeping watch over the house, I’d say we’ve got time. “I have a feeling we’re not going anywhere for a while. Start from the beginning.”
~*~
One box of tissues, two cups of tea, and one small break to check on Sasha, later, and I’ve gotten the whole story. “I’m so so sorry, Cat. For everything. You poor girl.”
I console her as she wipes at her drying tears. I can’t even begin to comprehend what she’s been through. Her family murdered, her being raised like a burden, being treated like a piece of garbage with no one to care for her.
“Dawson knows everything you told me?” I wonder.
Cat nods. “Kind of. I told him some of it, but Chase knows everything.”
That’s good. That’s very, very good.
Dawson has a harder than steel outer shell, but he’s got a good heart underneath it all. He doesn’t like to see people suffer, especially if he can help them. I think that’s one of the things that drew him to me at first.
“They’ll help you, Cat. I promise.” I’m confident in my words but judging by the look in her eyes, she’s skeptical.
“How can you be sure?”
I don’t blame her for her doubt. After all she doesn’t know the Slayers like I do. “Because if they don’t, they’ll have to answer to me.”
A slight giggle escapes her mouth. She may think it’s funny, but she doesn’t know me yet either. She doesn’t know how serious I am.
I leave her to rest of her tea while I spring for the ringing phone nearby on the counter. It’s the house phone, so I highly doubt it’s Dawson, but I can’t help but hold out hope.
“Hello?” I ask into the lightweight cordless receiver.
“This is nurse Elroy calling from Riverdale Memorial Hospital. I’m looking for Molly Donovan, please.”
My heart skips a beat and I instantly think of Baby, remembering that we’d put my down as her emergency contact while filling out her paperwork, before Stitch had even arrived.
Is everything okay? Is something wrong?
I begin to panic. “Yes? This is Molly.”
Oh, God, please, please let them be okay. I can hear Stitch’s voice bellowing from the other room where he’s talking with the other guys camped out in my living room. What am I supposed to tell him if it turns out Baby isn’t okay? I mean, people die every single day in childbirth, right? Maybe more so in third world countries, but, it could happen.
“Miss Donovan, I’m calling because you had some bloodwork doneyesterday. Well, normally we don’t get results back so quickly, but the lab must be very slow because I have your results and the Doctor wanted me to give you a call.”
Massive waves of relief flood over me. She’s okay. Her baby is okay. I don’t have to tell Stitch anything. Suddenly, the possibility of being hypoglycemic doesn’t seem all that terrible in light of what the news could have been.
“Yes,” I prepare myself. I hope she isn’t going to go into detail. I know all about this, with Mom suffering from the disorder for years now. I’ll have to watch my diet a little more, snack on things throughout the day to keep my blood sugar up, yadda, yadda, yadda.
What I hear next is most definitely not what I was expecting. At all. As in on a scale of one to a hundred, with the higher numbers giving the degree of how impossible something is, this would be like a 99.9.
“Oh. My. God.” Is all I can manage to say.
“Molly? Are you all right?” I can hear Cat rushing ove
r as I drop the phone from my hand.
And then, for the third time in two days, I faint.
~*~
DAWSON
It’s been hours since I made the call. Hours of planning, waiting, and growing restless. Hours of going over every single possible scenario, knowing that no matter how I try to calculate how this thing is gonna go down, it’s not going to do any good.
There are too many variables, to many people involved to include. So, I don’t. I do this the best way I can think to right now. I do what feels right in my gut, and hope everyone else can play along.
There was no way I was gonna let this shit go down in my clubhouse. This is something best to be taken care of out in the middle of nowhere, without innocent bystanders possibly getting mixed in.
We use an old abandoned barn for some of our business, and it’s perfect for what needs to be done today. It sits on a ton of acreage that we could use if things go bad. Or even if things don’t. Either way, we’ll need to get rid of some bodies. It’s just unclear to me which ones we’ll be burying at this point.
There’s very little daylight left, and he better get here soon otherwise this adds a whole new set of problems. Mateo’s already here, with him and his men being held upstairs in the loft. We outnumber them, out-power them too.
Next, we’re just waiting on Jimenez.
I wasn’t quite sure that he’d be open to the meeting, but I’d taken the liberty to offer some very enticing bait. Mateo had known that I was going to offer Cat to him, in exchange for a more permanent truce. Sure, he’d take that bait and would most definitely order us all killed once the exchange was made. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave the kill order before the exchange was even made, going on what Cat told me herself about the kind of man her father was.
No, I needed something a little more enticing. Something that would guarantee that Jimenez would show up himself instead of sending a bunch of his mercenaries. So I went off script a little and offered up something that no one other than Jimenez, Mateo and I know about.