Ripley's Saint

by Isabel Wroth

  That relief had bled into shock and a raging grief, when Ghost turned away to clean up, whistling a merry tune the whole time. He picked up a tablet and gave it his full attention for a moment, turning around to show them the stuff of nightmares that was his smile. He held up the tablet for Saint and Damon to watch the news just now breaking.

  It took Saint a minute to understand what he was seeing, but when he did, all that rage, pain, grief that had been simmering inside him, the burning ball of it lodged in his throat, erupted in gut-searing roars.

  The Perdition compound was an inferno. The flames burned white-hot in tornadoes out the busted windows, his home, his brothers…gone. And not only the brothers. Athena’s Jeep was parked right next to Ever’s truck outside.

  The women.

  The babies.

  He didn’t remember thrashing around so hard, fighting to get free so he could beat Ghost to death with his bare hands. Barely remembered dislocating his shoulder in the struggle, but later as he and Damon hung there side by side, Saint was feeling it.

  He didn’t know how long it had been since Ghost had shown them the news feed.

  Hours? It felt like days, but Saint knew it couldn’t have been that long since he had left them alone to just dangle down in the dark.

  “How bad is your shoulder?” Damon kept his voice soft, but inside the cramped room it still echoed loudly.

  “I don’t know. I can’t pull up anymore, so bad enough I suppose. Why?”

  Damon grunted with effort, and Saint let his head fall back so he could watch the prospect do an ab curl and hook his feet up on the pipe, right near his hands.

  “In case he comes running back down here in a minute, I need to know if you’re able to help me take down Ghost or if I’ve gotta do it myself.”

  Saint watched with his mouth open as Damon pulled a large safety pin from the hem of his jeans. He could not believe the guy was flexible enough to get his damn leg up by his hands in the first place. By wrapping his legs around the pipe, Damon was able to shift and hook one arm around the pipe so he could have full use of his hands to pick the lock on his handcuffs.

  “If that bastard had had any training at all, he’d have known better than to leave us clothed. Fucker.”

  Damon was muttering, totally calm and collected, like this sort of thing happened to him all the time. Though, from his impressive military record and the classified missions Nasa said he and Stone had completed, Saint wasn’t sure why he was so surprised.

  “How in the hell are you that flexible?” Saint guffawed.

  Damon grunted, shifting around a bit more to find his sweet spot. “I take hot yoga classes with my woman, three times a week. Stone says yoga is for douchebags and hipsters, but after this, I’m dragging his ass to class.”

  “If you get free-”

  “If?” Damon scoffed incredulously, dropping to the floor seconds later with a pained groan.

  Saint just stared for a second. “Get the fuck out of here. Go get help. Find your woman and get her safe.”

  Damon ignored him completely, hunting around for a stool to set underneath Saint’s feet. Taking the pressure off his arms and making him almost pass out from the instant wave of pain that rolled over him.

  “Sorry, bro. This is gonna suck.” Damon told him.

  It did suck. It sucked balls. Damon clambered up behind him like a monkey, wrapping his legs around Saint’s waist to hold himself up high enough to start working on Saint’s cuffs. Saint could barely stand up, barely breathe, wondering how in the hell Damon was able to move around after being chained like that for god knows how long.

  He heard the lock of the cuffs give, and two seconds later he was on his ass on the dirt floor. Damon muttered a string of curse words under his breath as he dropped soundlessly to the balls of his feet and helped Saint sit up.

  “Take a deep breath.” Damon told him, right before he wrenched Saint’s shoulder back into place.

  *****

  Roar had his foot on the first step when the explosion sounded. Ripley was tackled to the ground, Dani screamed from across the room, Roar was running for his wife and children, shouting their names. Chaos. It was terrifying, total chaos.

  “Downstairs! Downstairs, go baby. I’m right behind you.”

  Ripley looked up to see Roar carefully shoving Ever down the stairs ahead of him, Lyon in his arms, and baby Harper screaming in fear as Ever rushed down into Nasa’s sanctum. Athena was behind Roar, towing Wren behind her, the rest of the brothers who had been in the compound following quickly behind.

  “Nasa! Lock it down!” Raid bellowed, the last to move through the basement door just as another explosion sounded, then another. What looked like a solid steel door, slammed down from the ceiling above the stairway, a panic room door, sealing them all in while the vibrations of the explosions rocked the ground all around them.

  Nasa was cursing up a storm, “Son of a bitch! Son of a fucking BITCH!”

  Top had been the one to tackle her to the floor and, as he heaved himself up off the floor, helping her up too, he grunted furiously. “Gettin too old for this shit. Everyone okay?”

  Ripley looked around the room to find that Stone was cradling Dani in his lap, rocking her back and forth while she cried softly. Roar was on his knees with his arms around Ever and their kids. Lyon was wide-eyed and terrified, but he wasn’t crying as he clung tight to Roar’s neck. Harper was still screaming, protected in the shelter of Ever’s arms and pressed against Roar’s chest.

  Wren was looking at the ceiling with horror plain on her face, Pen hovering close by. Raid had Athena pressed to his chest, his face buried in her hair while he raggedly continued to whisper over and over again,

  “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.” There was a wild look in Raid’s eyes, his muscles jumping and jerking with the muffled echo of each new explosion.

  One by one everyone acknowledged they were unhurt and, all of the sudden, Raid burst into motion and let go of Athena to slap Ruckus clean across the face, towering over the younger man.

  “You stupid mother fucker! What in the hell were you thinking?”

  As Raid went on to rip the prospect a new asshole, one of the other brothers, Meeks, tried to step in but Raid shoved him back, and he didn’t quit until Athena ducked between Raid and Ruckus and put her hands on Raid’s cheeks.

  “Raid, he’s okay. Look at me.” Raid visibly struggled to tear his eyes off of Ruckus to look down at Athena. “He’s okay, honey. We’re okay.”

  It took a second for Raid to get it together, and when he did, he reached out to grab Ruckus by the back of his neck and pulled him in for an unashamed hug.

  “You little shit,” he rasped, “You’re lucky you didn’t get your goddamn hand blown off.”

  Still at Top’s side, Meeks came over to softly tell Top the only reason they’d had a chance to get downstairs was because Ruckus had picked up that first grenade and thrown it back out the window.

  “Boy, get over here,” Top boomed, and with a gulp, Ruckus came over to stand in front of Top. “Give me your cut.”

  Ruckus’s eyes flew wide, his already reddened cheeks turning positively scarlet with embarrassment as he obeyed, shedding his cut with trembling hands and gave it to Top. Ruckus stood there looking younger and more vulnerable than ever without the black leather vest around his shoulders.

  Top took off his own cut and handed it to Ruckus, telling him gruffly,

  “Till we get out of this shit and can make an order with Scooter, you wear that. Full patch, all in favor?”

  Every member of Perdition in the room gave a resounding, ‘Aye!’ Ruckus looked like he was about to cry, looking around the room at the hard faces of his brothers, swallowing so loudly it could be heard above the muffled roaring of flames overhead. His hands shook as he put on the club president’s cut and, right before Ripley’s eyes, grew about two feet taller.

  Top clapped him on the shoulder then barked at Nasa, “You got eyes outside?”


  “Only camera left is on the front gate. The compound is on fire and our bikes are all missing. Ghost brought his friends, stole our god damn wheels, and set fire to our house. Son of a bitch! When I find this dirty rat bastard...”

  “Are we safe down here?” Stone demanded, having gotten himself and Dani up, holding her in both arms.

  “It’s rigged for the zombie apocalypse. Fireproof, fully stocked with rations to last the entire club a year, independent ventilation system, and we’ve got a back door that leads out into the woods.” Nasa informed them all from his chair, not having bothered to even turn around to answer.

  “He hit the house, what’s to keep him from taking out Milo, Toad, and Frankie? Or Gee at the hospital?” Ruckus asked, his voice an octave higher than normal.

  Nasa shot Stone a glance and, like Stone knew what had been going on the whole time, he waved his cell phone at Nasa. “Sent my crew a 911 through the emergency line and hit up Veracruz to put a few guys on Gee.”

  Nasa gave a tight nod. “Good. Then we’re gonna be fine. Ever, babies okay?”

  Ever nodded, still white-faced and tucked up against Roar. “Yeah. Thanks, Nasa.”

  “For what?” the giant Viking biker grunted.

  “Being a paranoid, doomsday prepping weirdo. Ruckus?”

  The former prospect cleared his throat, “Yeah?”

  “Three meals a day for the rest of your life.”

  Roar grunted at his wife’s promise, but the look he gave Ruckus, utter relief and gratefulness plain in his expressive eyes as he clutched his family, showed Roar agreed wholeheartedly.

  Ripley was relieved everyone in the compound was safe down here in Nasa’s panic room, but the image on the screen of her phone was haunting her. Panic pulsing through every vein in her body at the thought of not being able to get to Saint or Damon on time and when her eyes met Dani’s across the room, Ripley knew the other woman was feeling the same pain.

  It felt like she was swallowing sandpaper, her mouth so dry that her voice came out as an ugly sound,

  “How are we going to help Saint and Damon from down here?”

  Raid seemed to have gotten it together, finally lifting his face from where he had pressed it to Athena’s shoulder.

  “Ghost thinks he just wiped us out. Most of us, anyway. We have the upper hand now.”

  “Yeah? Well Ghost still has my man strung up somewhere like a slab of meat, he’s hurt and I want him back. NOW!” Dani declared vehemently.

  Ripley managed a nod and pointed at Dani. “What she said. If Ghost thinks you’re all dead, you can be in place to follow us from the tower and the parking garage.”

  Ripley had barely finished talking when every man in the room started to loudly tell her, no way, no how, was she going to meet Ghost. But Ripley wasn’t looking at any of them. She was looking at Tara. Wren. Ghost’s wife, who had read every single one of his horrific confessions and knew exactly what Ghost would do to Ripley or Dani once he got his hands on them.

  Wren’s eyes were tear-drenched, sad, defeated almost, but Ripley could tell she had something to say. So she walked through the sea of arguing men and took Wren’s hands, hoping Wren could see or feel Ripley’s determination. The noise around them started to die down and Ripley was able to hear herself speak.

  “You know this monster, Wren. You lived with him for years. Read his horror stories. Who was the hero?”

  She wasn’t sure where the words were coming from, but she felt it in her gut that Wren was the answer to saving Saint and Damon. For a minute, the other woman looked confused, her brow furrowing as she thought hard, rolling her lips together, biting down until they blanched white.

  “There wasn’t a hero. The murderer, Ghost, never got caught. He always gets away with it.”

  “Not this time. Does he kill alone or with another person?”

  Wren shook her head, squeezing Ripley’s hands tighter. “Alone. No one else could do what he does. They’re not good enough, and a witness is just another person he would have to kill. One he might not get paid for.”

  “Will he take me himself or make one of his brothers do it?”

  “The Leviathans aren’t his brothers. They’re his minions. He’s better than all of them and only allows himself to be called a Leviathan because it offers him some anonymity. Protection even. He’ll come for you himself.

  “Today, a few days from now, he’ll keep Saint alive until he has you. But every day he doesn’t have you, he’ll hurt Saint more. He’ll send you pictures, maybe even a finger or two, until you come to him.”

  Nausea rolled up from Ripley’s toes, heat followed by a sickening clammy sweat, at the sincerity in what Wren had just told her. Pictures of Saint being hurt and mutilated until Ghost got what he wanted. Then once Ripley was in his clutches, he was likely to rape and kill her in front of Saint, making Saint watch helplessly until it was Saint’s turn.

  Ripley gave Wren’s hands one more squeeze and let go to face Saint’s family, his brothers. Dani and Stone. Their faces all reflected the disgust and the terror Ripley was feeling. The gut-churning anger.

  “It’s nine o’clock. You have until noon tomorrow to come up with a better plan. After that, I’m going to play along with Ghost. I don’t care if I have to shove a tracking chip up my ass so y’all can find me; Nasa clearly has plenty of lube. I’m going.”

  Ripley saw Dani take a breath to say something, but Stone grabbed her shoulders, spun her around and bent so their noses almost touched.

  “No. Fucking. Way. Damon would rather die down there alone than let you walk into that trap, and you’ll be leaving this compound over my dead body,” he snarled.

  Dani burst into tears. Stone cuddled her up and looked across the room to pin Ripley with a stare so hot she started to sweat.

  “Ghost thinks he’s gutted Perdition. He’s confident no one will be around to fuck with his plans. And sweetheart,” he directed at Wren, “If he knew you were here, you’d be dead already. Damon is my best fucking friend. I know him, and he’s already got a plan to get out. His picture sucks, but he put his index and pinkie fingers against the pipe where his hands were cuffed. That was a message for me, it means he’s okay for now and good to go.

  “I’m not your man, Ripley. I don’t even know you. But I know Saint would want you to stay safe here and let trained professionals deal with his rescue. Damon and I have been in situations like this before and right now, he’s the best chance at keeping them both alive. You need to be patient.”

  “And if it was Dani down there instead of Damon?” Ripley challenged, the tears starting to flow down her cheeks now.

  Stone’s face went dark, hard, and devoid of all emotion as he cuddled Dani closer. “Damon and I would do what we do best and blow this city apart to find her.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Saint must have passed out because the next thing he felt was Damon slapping him across the face. He blinked, gave himself a shake, then groaned as the pain from his abused body registered. Damon’s voice drew him out of it only so far.

  “Don’t puss out on me. We’ve got to haul our asses outta here. Come on.”

  Saint saw white spots in his vision, but somehow he managed to get his feet under him when Damon hauled him up. “I gather you’ve got a plan?”

  Damon helped him over to a wall and told him to lean on it, stretch, and let the blood start flowing back to his arms. Saint wondered if he’d been out longer than he thought, because Damon now had a small flashlight in one hand and their boots in his other.

  “I figure it’s mid morning and we won’t have much time. Ghost has at least two cameras on us down here, so he probably knows by now that we’ve slipped the cuffs. Don’t know why we don’t have a crew of Leviathans up our asses or some guns pointed at us, but I’m not looking that gift horse in the mouth.

  “There’s a sewer access point over here near the bodies. This maintenance room would be stationed in the hub of sewer connection lines. If
we’re lucky, we’ll get in one big enough for us and hope we don’t have to pull a Shawshank. We’ll find the street access ladder, climb up, find a phone, call in my team for backup, get a shower, and get our girls.”

  Saint was with him up until the end there.

  “Your team?”

  It was hard to tell, but in the dim light of the room, Damon finally looked uncomfortable. Then again, maybe his expression was disgust for having to move the four dead bodies aside to get at the sewer access.

  “After the shootout at Ripley’s, Top and Nasa pulled me aside and had me get in touch with my old team. I reached out, called in some favors, and my guys have been tailing the guys tailing Perdition ever since.

  “Top gave us the green light to run an urban op like we used to, total black out, no communication through any familiar channels. Radio silence unless one of us was taken. Stone has point, and no doubt him and the crew will be all over whoever is left of Perdition and sweep up any Leviathans they can find.

  “Stone started working with this guy, who’s moving his business outside city limits and gave us permission to use it as home base. They have a sweet dungeon set up, got the jail cells finished last week and apparently have enough rope to hog tie a herd of wildebeest.” Damon chuckled darkly, “It’s called, Pavlovia.”

  Once Saint got over the initial shock of Top and Nasa having kept such a monumental contingency plan, a hell of a smart one, from him and the rest of the guys, Saint could only be grateful that Damon had decided Perdition was worth the trouble and not bailed. A conversation for later.

  “Isn’t that some kind of dessert?”

  “No idea. Stone says it’s a play off of Pavlov’s Cat. Something about behavior modification? Teague has actual doctorates in all kinds of Psychology and he does some weird alternative therapy shit involving BDSM.”

  With a grunt of effort, Damon rolled aside the biggest of the bodies.

  “Well, fuck,” Damon muttered, “Teague is going to be pissed about having to find another contractor to finish his place. Sorry, Jerry. You fat bastard.” Damon turned on the little flashlight and found the opening, a square hole in the concrete just big enough for them to squeeze through. He poked his head inside, gagged, turned the light left and right then came back in to suck in some mildly cleaner air.