Tormented (Fallen Aces MC #3)

by Max Henry

  Evan grins without saying a damn word.

  I shake my head at him, my gaze flicking to the bottle as I consider how easy it would be to smash it over his smug fucking face and do some real damage.

  Not that he’d care, evidently.

  “What happened?” I ask. “That night? What happened afterward?”

  The asshole drags a hand down his face and perches on the edge of the wet seat. “She died.”

  I can’t fucking breathe properly. The memories I have always led me to that conclusion, but I guess I held on to hope a little tighter than I thought all these years. “Did it . . . did she die quickly?”

  He shrugs.

  The motherfucker shrugs.

  “You weren’t even there when she passed, were you?”

  “Nope.”

  “You fucking left her alone?”

  “Didn’t you?” he asks, staring up at me with hardened eyes.

  Maybe, but, “I was a kid, Evan. What the hell could I have done to help her?”

  He hits her, and the car swerves. I hold my breath, my fingers aching on Flopsy while I wait to see if Evan can make the car go okay again.

  “Stop the car,” Momma says. “We’re getting out.”

  “Like fuck you are.”

  “We’re not part of this, so let us go.”

  “Bitch,” he says with a laugh, “the moment you decided you knew better than me and opened that mail, you made this about you.” His horrible eyes are on me as he twists in his seat. “Both of you.”

  “Evan!”

  “You might not have been able to save her, kid, but I’m sure she would have liked to have you with her, don’t you?”

  He doesn’t care. He’s not saying that because he feels remorse that Mom was left alone when she died. He’s purely trying to shift the blame and guilt squarely onto me to weaken me.

  Not today, fucker.

  “I think she would have been happy knowing her daughter got away from the sick fucking kiddy-fiddler, don’t you?”

  Sawyer pushes off the wall he’d been leaning up against in a rush. “You touched her?” he asks Evan.

  Damn. I only told him that Evan pimped me out to his friends, not that he did it too.

  “Oh, you don’t know?” He feigns surprise. “She not tell you that?”

  “It’s hardly the kind of thing you share around the campfire,” I sass. “I’ve spent over ten years trying to forget what you fucking well did, but I can’t.”

  “That good, was it?”

  Sawyer’s fist makes a resounding crack as it hits Evan’s jaw. The bastard damn near falls out of his seat with the force.

  I fight to stay on my feet at what I hear next.

  “Is that . . .?” Sawyer steps toward the back rooms.

  “Stay out,” Evan warns. “You got no right going through my place.”

  I shake my head and storm past Sawyer, following the gentle sobs to a door leading into the room behind the kitchen. The handle turns easily in my hand, yet I can’t get the door past halfway as I freeze in shock.

  No.

  Sawyer takes a step back to let me past as I march through the trailer to Evan. “You’re still at it?”

  “Surprise.” He throws his hands up mockingly.

  “You sick son-of-a . . .” I can’t even finish what I’m saying before my hands are at his throat.

  He plays foul, taking my hair in his hold and wrenching my head to the side. “Remember how I used to hold you like this as a little girl, sweetheart?”

  Something snaps. All rational thought flies out the window, all consideration for the other people in this trailer, gone. I lash out, hitting and scratching at him while he pulls my hair painfully hard. I’m not winning, the pain in my scalp too severe to continue.

  “You’re sick. Fucking sick,” I yell as I give up.

  “And you’re probably just as bad, am I right?” He releases my hair with a thrust, sending me toward Sawyer as he emerges from the back.

  I take a quick look at pretty boy as he stands with his fists twitching, his neck corded with rage, and his eyes blacker than the pits of hell. He’s waiting on the word.

  “You wanted to know who this is?” I shout at Evan, one hand pointing to Sawyer. “You sold his mother out, gave a scared woman false hope, because apparently ruining one family wasn’t enough. Apparently, destroying children’s lives is your thing.”

  Evan stands, eyes fierce as he stares down Sawyer. “Carlos?”

  Sawyer growls. Literally fucking growls like the animal he is. I could place money on his devil going haywire right about now.

  “Have at it,” I tell Sawyer. “I can’t stand to waste one more breath on this asshole. End it.”

  The mobile home shakes and shudders with the force of their brawl, model cars smashing on the floor as I head back into the small bedroom to find the girl curled in on herself.

  “It’s okay, baby.”

  Her head shakes violently from side to side, the noise from the men most likely terrifying her.

  “Do you live around here?” I ask, trying to distract her.

  Her mouth opens on a pained cry, and she begins to sob. I edge closer, giving her time to move away if she doesn’t want interaction, but she does the opposite. The kid crawls over the pretty purple comforter and climbs into my arms where I stand at the end of the bed.

  “Shh, honey.” I stroke her hair, rocking my hips side to side to sway her like Mom used to with me. “You’re safe with me.”

  She cries as grunts and curse words fly through the air. The distinct sound of something large breaking the wall echoes around the room.

  “What’s happening out there?” the kid finally asks.

  “The bogeyman’s being taken care of,” I say. “He won’t hurt you anymore.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  Sawyer

  “What do we do with her?” Abbey asks, stroking the girl’s hair.

  The little critter drifted off as soon as we stepped foot out of Evan’s trailer. My guess is she hasn’t slept properly in days.

  “I guess we try to find out who her parents are,” I say, wiping what’s left of the blood on my hands off on the legs of my jeans.

  Gosh, that felt good . . . .

  Yeah, it did.

  “And him?” She jerks her head back to where Evan lies in a mangled heap on his kitchen floor.

  It’s been a while since I’ve killed with my bare hands, nothing more. Feels fucking fantastic to know I still can. Weapons are great, guns are easy, but it takes a certain . . . finesse to know how to end a man with nothing but your fists.

  “Someone will discover him when it starts to smell, or attract flies.”

  “Aren’t you worried about evidence?” she whispers, pressing the kid’s head to her chest while she covers the little girl’s exposed ear with her hand.

  I chuckle. “No. I’m wanted in three states already.”

  “Well, that sorts that then.”

  I reach out and take the kid from her grasp, seeing her struggle to keep the girl aloft. “How old is she?”

  “Ask her,” Abbey says letting go.

  I nod, letting her know I’ll get to it once we’re back to the bike. The three of us leave, nothing more said until I set the girl down on the seat of the Harley.

  “What’s your name, sweet thing?”

  She looks up to Abbey. My girl smiles back at her.

  “Grace.”

  “Well ain’t that a pretty name for a pretty girl?”

  The kid’s face contorts and she reaches out for Abbey with a whimper.

  “It’s okay,” Abbey explains. “She’ll just be wary of you because you’re a man.”

  Well, shit.

  Broken already . . . .

  Makes me want to kill that fucker all over again, thinking what he must have done to the poor wee angel.

  “Do you know your address, Grace?” Abbey strokes the girl’s hair as she talks.

  The kid shakes her head.
<
br />   “Your phone number?”

  Shakes her head again.

  Gee, this is going to be fun . . . .

  “How old are you?” I ask.

  Grace looks warily across at me, and then answers. “Five.”

  “He touched you? Hurt you?”

  Her lips quiver before she whispers, “Yes.”

  I reach out and scoop the kid up as she falls apart, crying for her mommy. Abbey watches with a fist to her mouth and tears in her eyes. Just makes me hug that kid harder looking at the living proof of what she’ll likely become.

  Wow. My devil lifts a brow as I struggle to contain my anger. Even I wouldn’t have stooped that low. We went easy on him . . . .

  Nothing would have been enough of a death for a sick fuck like that. Nothing.

  “We’ll take her back to the clubhouse until we figure this out.” I nod down to my pocket. “Ring King and give him a heads up.”

  Abbey steps forward to retrieve my phone, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face with her bottom lip stuck out. I watch with nothing short of wonder as she carefully strokes Grace’s back, and then thumbs through to King’s number.

  She handled this whole evening with an eerily calm finesse. As broken and scarred as this spitfire is by her past, she hasn’t let it destroy who she is today. She just doesn’t realize it.

  She handles her demons better than I do.

  Hey now, play nice . . . .

  No.

  I’m sick of this, of being conflicted, torn in two directions, and loving every second of where each road takes me. I thirst for the kill, to spill blood and make the scum of this earth suffer, but at the same time I can’t get enough of tender moments like these.

  Grace mumbles, drifting back to sleep, curling in tighter as I run a finger over her shoulder. She’s so tiny—at least compared to a monster like me—and yet she has the power to bring a man as corrupted and selfish as me to my knees.

  I’d do anything for a soul as pure as hers.

  To save her innocence.

  To keep her untouched.

  Anything.

  “He didn’t answer,” Abbey says. “I left a message in case he didn’t get to it in time.”

  “He won’t answer if he’s in a meetin’ with someone, which is pretty darn likely given what’s coming up.”

  “It’s half an hour to get home.”

  I hold Abbey’s concerned gaze and nod. “And we can’t get her anywhere with one bike and three of us. But we can’t stay here.”

  She paces the sidewalk, rubbing a hand over her stomach as she moves. “I’ve got an idea.” She jerks her head, indicating I should get off the bike.

  Hoisting Grace higher into my arms, I rise and step aside, curious. Abbey rubs both palms down her legs before taking hold of the bars and heaving the machine upright. I’ll give her credit, it’s no lightweight, yet she manages to wrangle it like a pro. Using her boot, she kicks the stand up and starts wheeling it down the road before coming to a stop and looking over her shoulder. “You coming?”

  “Where we off to, Abbey-girl?”

  “Away from here. We need to move in case somebody saw us and called the cops. You never know—people can be suspicious, especially in a quiet place like this.” She gets the Harley rolling again with a grunt as I catch up and walk alongside. “I figure if we get a few blocks away we can call someone who’ll answer for help.”

  I frown, adjusting Grace as she wriggles in her sleep. “I don’t need help.”

  Too proud to ask . . . as always . . . .

  Abbey comes to a stop again, somehow managing to keep the bike balanced with a thigh pressed into the seat and one hand on the bars. She brings my phone out of her pocket with the other and waves it in my direction as she speaks. “You want to make the call, or should I? Because as far as I can see, we’re not going anywhere fast in our current state.”

  You going to let her boss you around like that . . .?

  Yeah, I am, asshole. “Fine. But I don’t want to hear about this again, right?”

  “Build a bridge, pretty boy.” Using her thumb, she taps out a number and brings the device to her ear. “Hey . . . Yeah, we’re good . . . I need a favor.”

  Forty minutes later and Grace is awake as Fingers pulls up in the truck to our meeting spot, six blocks over. She wriggles back into my chest as the old man steps out and rounds the hood.

  Careful . . . you’re going soft . . . .

  Fuck off.

  “What have you two troublemakers got yourselves into?” Fingers asks as he warily eyes Grace.

  “Evan,” I answer simply.

  The old mechanic’s eyes soften and he drops his shoulders with a resigned sigh. He knows who Evan is. Both to me, and to Abbey.

  “You sort him out, then?”

  “Yeah, he did,” Abbey answers, giving me a soft smile as she answers.

  Fingers grunts in acceptance, and then steps toward Grace. The girl stiffens in my hold as he shoves a hand into his pocket and then brings a closed fist out to her.

  “Hold your hands out, love.”

  She twists her neck to look up at me. I nod, giving her knee a pat. Cupping her hands together, she tentatively holds them out to Fingers, who looks on like a doting grandfather. He releases his grasp, dropping something small and metal into her clutches.

  “What is it?” Abbey asks, stepping closer to look.

  Grace turns the trinket over, and then slowly holds it out for Abbey to see. Using old nuts and washers, Fingers has soldered together a doll figurine, complete with a carefully cut outline of brass-colored hair.

  “I was playin’ around with makin’ some trinkets out of scrap to sell for a little extra, but I figured this wee one might need it more.”

  Grace whispers something none of us catch, head bowed as she looks over the metal doll.

  “Pardon?” Fingers asks.

  “Thank you,” she whispers again. “It’s real pretty.”

  Bunch of soft-cocks . . . .

  I slam a hand into my temple and shift Grace to her feet. She reaches out for Abbey’s hand and walks side by side with my girl to the truck. Fingers turns to stand beside me, and we both watch in silence as Abbey helps Grace into the cab.

  “You got any idea what you’re in for with that one?” Fingers murmurs beside me.

  “We’re takin’ her home,” I answer.

  “Not the kid.” He shakes his head. “Abbey. She’s come a long way,” he says. “But don’t let that fool you any. She’s still as fragile as the day Apex first propped her up on a stool and slid a glass of milk and a cookie under her sweet little chin.”

  “She held it together well.”

  “Maybe. But you keep an eye on that girl. She won’t let you know if it bothered her until a week later when she can’t hold it in no more.”

  I glance over at Abbey, a little uneasy at the fact I kept a secret from her that was bigger than anything she might harbor. “I never said thanks for passin’ what you knew about her on to King. It helped me connect the dots, get the validation I needed that it was the same asshole.”

  He shrugs. “If it were you askin’, I probably wouldn’t have told you. You did the right thing getting Pres to ask the question.”

  “You think I’m still doin’ the right thing?” I ask.

  He glances up at me, a tight-lipped smile in place. “For once, yeah, I think you are.” Fingers sighs and slaps his hands on his thighs. “Keys?”

  I point to the Harley and the eyeball keychain.

  He nods once and steps away, throwing an awkward leg over the seat. I close my eyes, relishing the sound of the engine as he starts the bike up and lets it idle a while before easing out into the street and leaving with a wave.

  Abbey watches from her position in the front seat of the truck, Grace tucked in under her arm.

  Why do I get the feeling this is going to be a significant moment for you and me . . .?

  I don’t really know, but all I can say is th
at I feel it too. Maybe it’s the mild chill in the night air, or perhaps it’s the small smile on Abbey’s lips. Fuck, it’s probably just her, but something about this moment, right here, right now, screams that life as I know it is about to be irrevocably shaken up and laid down in a whole new pattern.

  Ah, fuck . . . .

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Abbey

  “Thank you.”

  Sawyer frowns, looking away from where we’d both been watching Sonya fuss over Grace.

  “You don’t need to say thanks, Abbey-girl.”

  I slip my hand in his, ignoring the residual tingles that remain from years of avoiding interaction. “I want to.”

  He shrugs. “Babe, it was just one of those things you do for people you love.”

  I cock my head a little. “Pardon?”

  “I said, it’s just one of those things you do.” He gives my hand a tug, crashing my body against his.

  I don’t miss the cheeky smirk from King over Sawyer’s shoulder.

  “I meant the other part,” I say, returning my gaze to the crisp blue eyes that set my soul alight.

  “What?” He smiles, eyes roving my face. “The part where I said ‘for people you love’?”

  “Yeah,” I reply. “That part.”

  A rumble sounds from deep in his chest. “You like that bit?”

  “It might have made me feel a little special,” I tease.

  He lifts a hand to brush the hair from my neck. “You are special.”

  I sigh, relaxing into his hold as he places a firm kiss just below my ear.

  “What now then?”

  I shrug, leaning back so I can see his face properly. “I truly don’t know. I mean . . . .” He waits patiently while I try to put my tangled emotions into words. “You took away the monster under my bed.”

  His lips curl up on one side, and I find myself smiling in response.

  “What?”

  “Can I be the monster in your bed?”

  The spark in his eyes, the smile on his lips, it brings weightlessness to my chest I can’t remember ever feeling before. I tip my head back in pure joy, and fucking well laugh without fear of what anyone thinks.