by Nikki Groom
What the fuck is going on with my life?
We should have stayed in Santa Cruz. We were fine there. Bored, yes, but we were fine. It seemed that although we lived in the past, it was a weird, twisted comfort zone that we had grown to be at ease in. Everything changed when we moved here. The pedophile rapist might have fucked with my head thirteen years ago, but I have never moved on from it. It’s always there. The devil on my back. The degree of anonymity I am afforded here has led me to want to inflict karma on those I feel that deserve it the most. Taking back the control, ridding the world of vermin. Retribution for that one night, and for all the children that have been too broken to survive such torment.
But along with the psycho side of me that I never really knew I had making an appearance here in Reno, it’s changed Vaughn too. He’s become stressed and intense. He’s more possessive of me and my whereabouts. Worry, maybe. A fatherly instinct to protect me from harm? The only person I really need protecting from is myself.
“Sadie? Darling, are you okay in there?” Vaughn calls through the door. I don’t answer immediately. My breaths rush up through my lungs but won’t come out of my mouth. I hunch over, bracing my elbows on my knees as I try to gain control of the furious ball of panic rising in my stomach. I drop to the floor, and curl into a ball, wrapping my arms around my legs as tight as I possibly can and rocking back and forth.
“It will pass, it has to pass. It’s just a second. One second after another. Just breathe,” I mumble under my breath.
“Sadie. Talk to me,” Vaughn calls out again, more frantic this time. “I’m going to break down this door if you don’t tell me that you’re okay right this minute.” His words echo through my head. He can’t come in. I don’t want him to come in. I need to be alone for this to pass.
“I’m okay,” I call out weakly. “I’m just going to take a shower,” I tell him, hoping it will be enough to make him leave.
“Sadie,” he sighs.
“I’m fine,” I whisper back.
After a couple of seconds, I hear his footsteps retreat. He knows what happens when a panic attack comes over me. He knows that I deal with it better on my own. He’s been watching it happen to me for the last thirteen years—since that night. The night that changed everything. The night that took everything I had, everything I was, and left me with nothing but Vaughn and a broken shell of a mind to live in. Vaughn was the one to find my mother and brother the next morning, murdered in my mother’s bed, cuddled up together in death, he said. He also found me, curled in a ball, sobbing, bleeding, and whispering to myself in the far corner of my closet. To this day we’ve never spoken about exactly what happened to me. I’m not sure if it’s because he didn’t want to hear the details, or if he didn’t need to. Sometimes I wonder if it was all a dream. If this is all a torturous thirteen-year-long nightmare that I’ll wake up from at any minute, and be the eleven-year-old girl that kissed my mother and brother goodnight before I never saw them again.
I drag my mind from the past to the present, reminding myself of the reality that I am in fact living in. The choices I’ve made tonight remind me that you don’t get a choice in your dreams. Dreams just appear, they happen of their own accord, and there's nothing you can do to change or steer them in a different direction. If I could manipulate my dreams, I would forever stay asleep.
But what I do have is conscious choices. I can control my next decision.
Every second of the day, for as long as I have breath in my body, I choose to step where I walk, to put a bullet where I aim, and end a life where I see fit.
Donny Carden.
Pedophile. Wife beater. Good for nothing asshole that will never again be able to hurt another woman or child.
And that feels good. So fucking good—because I’m wiping the scum from the earth. Saving little children from being imprisoned in that wretched, torturous place in their mind that they can never escape. A life sentence of the innocent, all because some sick asshole has done something so vile, so hideous, so life changing to them for personal, selfish, perverted gratification.
And I won’t stop.
I won’t stop until I’ve taken my last breath on this earth. I won’t stop until I’ve slain every child molesting fucker I can get my hands on. Until I find the man that brutally took my innocence and gut him like a fish. Maybe then I’ll find some peace in my own head.
Chapter 6
“What are we doing here? It’s a waste of fucking time. A waste of my fucking time.” Ruck’s bored tone interrupts my concentration.
“Shut the fuck up, dick head,” I snap back at him under my breath, keeping my eyes on the road.
“You think they’re gonna come this way?” Tex whispers as if someone nearby might hear us, which is crazy seeing as we are in the middle of nowhere, and hidden between two huge trees and a load of bushes.
“How many times do I have to answer stupid goddamn questions?” I turn to Tex. “You two are the most impatient fuckers I’ve ever had the displeasure of hanging with,” I grumble, turning my attention back to the road.
“Well, I’m fucking starving,” Ruck mumbles, and I’m about to rip him from the back seat into the front, and slam him right through the screen when a rumble of bikes draws our attention.
“Fire her up, Texy baby, let’s watch the fur fly!” I rub my hands together as the bikes pass, realizing just how hungry I am for this.
Tex starts up the van with a roar and pulls out onto the road, wheels spinning, leaving dust clouds in our wake and grins on our faces. The familiar buzz of pursuit gives me an instant hit and a heady high, better than any illegal substance you can take. This is what it’s all about: the adrenaline, the chase, the fact that three men, grumbling about being stuck with each other for an hour, have turned into a pack of connected hunters. I know these boys have my back. They know I have theirs. It’s the life, the brotherhood, and it’s all I need to keep the blood pumping through my veins.
The air in the cab breaks as Ruck opens the window to lean out and take his aim. As we approach from behind, Tex revs the engine hard with a wicked laugh and the two guys on bikes flick their heads back in our direction realizing what’s about to go down. Just as I thought, Spice and Dago. They come past here twice a week. Same days, same time. Riding from their rental property to their HQ. They are well-known members of The White Wolves MC, but for some reason, they never move up through the ranks. They’ve never been given a huge amount of responsibility, and I wonder about their loyalty to their club. Maybe their Prez can see they’re a weak link, and I’m about to find that chink in their armor.
“Want me to get up close and personal, boss?” Tex asks. “Give ‘em a little nudge in the right direction?”
I laugh at Tex’s eagerness to take these two down, but we’re not here to kill them. Hurt them a little maybe, but not kill them, yet. I want them alive, and I want them to talk. “Nah, man. This one’s Ruck’s. Got ‘em lined up, bro?” I call back to Ruck.
“Oh yeah, baby! Pull back, Tex, my friend,” he warns before shooting out the back tire on Dago’s bike. Tex brakes hard with a screech as the bike is whipped out from underneath Dago and sent skidding across the asphalt. A second shot takes out Spice’s tire, and he slams into the hard ground as the bike separates from him and spins off in the opposite direction. Tex pulls up smoothly between the stunned Wolves, and before he can come to a complete halt, Ruck and I are out of the doors and running at the men. Spice isn’t much of a match for either of us, clearly stunned and with an injured leg, he’s not going anywhere. But Dago, despite carrying a very heavy shoulder where he landed, runs down the bank by the side of the road and into the woods.
“I’m on it,” Ruck calls out as he picks up his pace and goes in after Dago.
“Ruck!” I yell back after him, but he’s already gone. “Fuck it,” I curse. I didn’t want him going in after him. Dago is bound to be carrying, and Ruck has just put himself in the firing line without even thinking.
; “He alive?” Tex asks, coming to my side. Spice takes that opportune moment to groan and roll onto his back, and as he opens his eyes to see Tex and me, he realizes this was a stupid move. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” Tex tells him before knocking him out with a fist to his face.
“What was that for?” I ask with a chuckle.
Tex shrugs, “Wanted to. Besides, he’s easier to handle if he’s unconscious, right?”
“Right. Let’s get him bound, and I’ll go and find Ruck. Fuckin’ boy, always diverting from the plan.”
“There was a plan?” Tex chuckles to himself, pulling a loop of rope out from the back of his jeans.
He makes fast work of binding Spice’s hands and feet and after taking his weapons, two guns and a knife, we haul him into the back of the truck, swinging him up and letting go so he lands with a thud. “He’ll be out for a while,” Tex says with pride.
“Yeah, thanks to you and your fucking great big hands,” I laugh.
Tex holds his hands up in front of me, “Hey, don’t knock it, big hands, big cock.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I shake my head and grin, and in that split second my ears ring with the sound of a shot in the woods, and my heart starts to beat ten times faster.
“Stay here, load the bikes up,” I bark, and Tex nods as I take off on foot down the road. The only time I feel vulnerable is when Ruck’s in trouble. He’s my kid brother. My only flesh and blood, and no matter that I don’t even like him some days, more so lately, I love that boy more than life itself. I skid down the dusty bank, rocks and rubble falling away underneath me as I try to stay upright. My feet are moving faster than I can keep up with but I need to get to Ruck wherever he is. I draw my gun and slow down to think logically. As my breathing slows, all I can hear is my heartbeat pounding through my ears.
It’s still. Too serene. No sound. No scuffle. No one to be seen or heard. Not even the birds are making a noise in the trees.
I hold my breath, tuning in for the slightest sound, anything that can lead me to Ruck. A twig snaps under the weight of a footstep, and I spin around in the direction of the noise with my gun poised and ready.
“Ha! Had ya going there. Didn’t I?” Ruck laughs, coming out from behind a tree with his hands in his pockets like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“What?” I say, lowering my gun just a fraction but staying guarded.
“Chill, man. I have the suspect detained and secured,” he gestures towards the tree he just stepped out from behind, and I see Dago’s feet. “Got a shot in his thigh, mere surface wound but he took it like a pussy, so I gave him a smack on the back of the head with a log—he’s not going anywhere for a little while.” He looks smug, and I can feel the anger rising in me.
“Chill. Chill?” I ask as I step toward him, “I thought you had been shot.” I shove him hard in the chest, and he stumbles backward.
“I told you I had it,” he spits after righting himself.
“And I called out after you to stop, but you fucked off and did your own thing as per fucking usual. You’re a cunt, you know that Ruck? A selfish cunt that needs to wake up to the real world or one day it will be you with a bullet in the back of your head, and I won’t be there to save your sorry ass.”
He comes at me with his nostrils flaring and his eyes full of rage. I know he’s ready to go hard at it. Christ knows he’s ready to blow off some steam so that bubbling anger can boil up and simmer back down again, but now really isn’t the time or the place, not when we have two unconscious bikers from a rival gang to deal with. I step in his direction, planting my foot firmly and slamming my hands into his shoulders. “Not now,” I roar.
“Screw you, Ramsey.” He strains against my hands, pushing forward but not trying anything else. I see the war in his eyes. The weight in his heart. I see it every day, but I don’t know what to do for him or how to fix it. Sometimes I think he’s unfixable.
I grip tighter around his shoulders, almost shaking him and forcing him to look at me. “Now is not the time, Ruck. Shit to deal with.” I motion my head over to Dago. “We’re going to drag his sorry ass up the bank and dump him in the back of the van with his buddy.” His breathing slows as my words sink in and the reasonable side of Ruck comes back to the surface. I place my hand on the side of his face and tap his cheek with my palm. “With me?” I ask, imploring him with my stare. He blinks slowly then nods, eyes downcast, touched with that deep-seated pain that I’ve come to recognize as a permanent fixture. But now’s not the time for this discussion—or any kind of discussion for that matter. Shit to do, and borrowed time to do it on.
We haul the bastard up the bank, and Tex is waiting for us, holding the back doors of the van open. We throw Dago in, slam the doors shut, and I slap my hands together, dusting them off. A smile spreads across my lips, dumb fuckers, they have no idea what’s about to hit them.
The ride to the cabin is quiet, and the sun has barely risen in the sky. Ruck stares out of the window in contemplative silence, and all of us are pensive on the short drive to the hills. The shit going down with The White Wolves has been a long time coming, a deep-seated war that has been pressure building for years. We thought we could warn them off easily enough, but they think they’re bigger and better and they haven’t taken the hints up until now, so it’s time to step it up. If they don’t listen this time, the war is on.
“Where do you want ‘em?” Tex asks as he drags one of The Wolves effortlessly out of the van by his foot and he lands on the dusty ground with a thud. Ruck grabs the other and dumps him next to his mate.
“Put ‘em in one of the bedrooms, strap ‘em to a chair and make sure they’re facing each other but not close enough to touch. Make sure they’re secure. I’ll be there in a minute.”
We don’t use this cabin often. It’s full of rot and not far off falling down, but no one other than us ever comes up here—no one would even associate it with us, and it’ll house our new guests sufficiently for as long as it takes for them to give us answers.
Tex and Ruck haul up and toss the men over their shoulders as easy as carrying sacks of grain. I light up a smoke and sit on the back loader of the van looking out over the track we’ve just driven up. The air is warm, the birds still quiet, but there’s an undertone, a feeling of unease, of anticipation, and I focus my mind on the task at hand while watching the dust from the track still lingering in the air. This shit with the Wolves is serious. We’ve never had anyone pose such a massive genuine threat to the club and its future until now. The drive-by shootout they did last week was the closest they’ve come to HQ. They knew it would rile us and luckily no one was hurt. The girls were scared, the place was a fucking mess, but above everything, they set the ball rolling for a shit storm. They’re serious about taking over our business in Reno, and if we let it slide, we’ll be seen as being weak. If we retaliate, there’ll be a war. And now, no matter what ruthless, cruel and illegal things I’ve done without question in the past, I know it’s gonna get a whole lot worse.
Only the strongest survive.
I crouch down in front of Dago. Both him and Spice are gagged and bound tightly, heads rolled onto their shoulders, unconscious and unaware of the joy that awaits them when they open their eyes.
“Let’s just cut their fucking hands off, so they know we mean business when they wake up,” Ruck says. He stands with his hip cocked and his arms folded lazily as he envisions his plans for our guests.
I stand slowly, eyeing the sleeping pair and shake my head. “You know that’s not good manners, bro.”
“I know.” He shrugs. “Never claimed to have manners.”
“Should’a brought Dev. He’d come in his pants if you gave him the job of working these boys over.” Tex chuckles.
“Yep, but you know he never surfaces before the middle of the afternoon, and I wasn’t going to be the one on the receiving end of him at five am this morning, or any morning, actually.” I step forward and crouch at the side of Spice. “Let’s start with you, m
y friend.” I slap his cheek several times to rouse him.
Nothing.
“You and those fucking big hands, Tex. Knocked him out good and proper.”
“Nah, he’s just a pussy. Bucket of ice water or some salts will do the job.” He takes a small clear bottle out of his pocket and tosses it to me. I pop the lid and throw my head back as the smell infiltrates my nostrils, coughing as it hits my lungs.
“Fucking hell, man,” I choke out.
“If he stays asleep when you wave that under his nose, then we got a problem.”
I stick the top of the bottle right up his nostril, forcing him to inhale the pungent gas. It takes a few seconds before his body starts to react and he slowly regains consciousness. His eyelids twitch at first, then his fingers, and we wait quietly while he blinks rapidly, trying to work out his surroundings. The second he gains visual clarity, his eyes widen, and he hisses in a sharp intake of breath as he throws his head back.
“Hello, Spicey, my man.” I tilt my head and smile, keeping my face in his line of vision. He struggles, trying to pull his arms and legs free, muffled sounds coming from behind his gag and adrenaline triggering his fight or flight response. “Ah, I wouldn’t bother if I were you. The way Tex here ties those binds, you ain’t goin’ nowhere.” I stand to full height, and he cranes his neck to look up at me while blowing out fast breaths around the gag. “Feel like talking?” I ask him, his nostrils flare and he glares hard at me. I laugh out loud. “You tryin’ to intimidate me? Well, I don’t think that’s very polite, or clever considering your position, do you?” I turn to Ruck.
“Nah, man,” Ruck says sucking in a breath through his teeth. “That’s not polite at all.” He moves behind Spice and places his hands on his shoulders. This is when the panic really sets in. He’s trying to act tough. He’s trying his hardest to be brave and fierce. But having tested his binds, and sussed out his surroundings, he knows we hold the cards. All of them.