Tormented (Fallen Aces MC #3)

by Max Henry

  “Today’s the big day,” Sawyer announces out of the blue as he absently strokes my shin.

  We’re on opposite ends of one of the sofas, my legs over his lap as I read Alice in Wonderland. He insisted that was where I started when it came to catching up on childhood staples that I missed out on.

  I know what he talks about. Shit, the butterflies in my gut know what he talks about.

  The final showdown with Daddy.

  “What time do you go?”

  “Evenin’.”

  I pretend it doesn’t affect me, bury my nose in the book and end up reading the same paragraph six times over.

  “Abbey.”

  “I’m not going to lie.” I set the book aside on the floor, and then crawl over so I’m sitting beside Sawyer, facing him. “It makes me nervous.”

  “You’d be one coldhearted bitch if it didn’t.”

  I reach out, cupping his neck with my palm. “He almost killed you once, and knowing those are the chances you have again, while I’m stuck here waiting it out?” I shake my head. “It’s going to be the death of me whatever happens.”

  “Come with me.”

  I frown, tempted to place the back of my hand to his brow and check his temperature.

  “You know I wouldn’t be allowed.” Women aren’t involved in business unless it’s completely necessary and entirely unavoidable.

  He smirks. “Babe, I wouldn’t let one pretty inch of you past his gates.”

  “What did you mean then?” Come with me? Don’t?

  “I meant I want you there when I walk back out.”

  “If you walk back out.”

  He lifts a hand to pinch my chin. “When I walk out, I’m goin’ to be fuckin’ high on life and wantin’ to celebrate that with my girl.”

  “And I’ll be right here,” I assure him. “Waiting. Impatiently.”

  “Too far away. It’ll take me fuckin’ hours to get back here.”

  “Your point?”

  “That wouldn’t wait.” He gestures to his lap.

  “Oh, pretty boy. Are you horny just thinking about it?” I tease.

  “What you goin’ to do to fix it?”

  I level his hard gaze, narrowing my eyes also. “Anything you want.”

  My ass leaves the sofa in a whirl as he scoops me up on the way off himself. “I’m holdin’ you to that.”

  “Good. Now get us upstairs.”

  FORTY

  Sawyer

  The back roads that lead toward my father’s property are quiet this late at night. The only sound to be heard apart from the steady swish of boots in grass is the slow, methodical scratching of a cow grazing nearby.

  The new moon does nothing to help guide the way, the night blacker than a coal-miner’s hand. Still, it’s perfect for what we’re here to do.

  My devil pops his hips, singing “It’s a marvelous night for a bloodbath” to the tune of “Moondance” as he quicksteps through my mind.

  Tuck walks ahead of me, roped in to help the Fallen Aces with the job when his estranged daughter turned out to be involved with the drug syndicate King’s currently trying to crack. Having the president of the Devil’s Breed leading the charge is a scenario I never considered.

  “How much farther is it?” Abbey asks, skipping every so often to keep up with my long strides.

  “Not much longer.” I’d point out a landmark for reference, but she’s lucky with how dark it is out we can even keep track of Tuck.

  To his left are a couple of the younger Aces: a prospect by the name of Nathan who shows all guts and a thirst for glory, and a Latino guy by the name of Alvarez. I narrow my gaze on him, wondering if he’s a plant from my father’s cartel.

  “Where you say you’re from again, Alvarez?”

  The kid with a buzz cut swings his head my way. God only knows how he’s looking at me. Could be cool and calm, or ready to throw down. Fucking moon.

  “Detroit,” he answers.

  “Right,” I say suspiciously.

  Abbey smacks me in the arm. “Stop it.”

  Fuck knows why King included him and Nathan. Compared to the other dozen or so men walking the road with us, they’re babies: inexperienced and dangerous.

  I shift the backpack containing ammo to my chest, looping the straps over my arms backwards. I’ve got two extra clips in my pockets, but denim only holds so much, and without proper tactical gear this is the best I can do. No way I was going in with just a couple of spare rounds. This gunfight is bound to be of epic proportions, and I’d like to be prepared.

  “Stop at that mailbox up there,” I tell Tuck.

  He reaches it first, bringing his men to a halt with a simple hand in the air. A second gesture has the entire group kneeling in the grass, blending into our surroundings.

  The road we’re on skirts two-thirds of casa de la Redmond. It’s the most guarded section of the property, but also the least covered in security cameras. The majority are out back since my father’s second wife, Elena, used the rear as her exit to elope with King.

  I gesture to two of Tuck’s men, getting them to come my way with the rifles they carry. They squat down before me, making an impromptu meeting circle. Tuck shuffles over to rest behind my right shoulder, listening in.

  “If you look down the far end of the fence,” I say, gesturing to the enormous brick wall that encircles the property, “there’s a crow’s nest with a sentry on point. Maybe two now, who’d know?” I shrug. “About a third of the way toward us from there is the first camera.” I point out a small mound on the top of the wall. “See it?”

  Both men nod.

  “You’ve also got one either side of the gate.” I point them out also. “And one at the speaker.”

  “Get the boys lined up to take them all down at once,” Tuck instructs. “Time is of the essence tonight. The faster we crash through his front door, the less time that asshole has to react.”

  “How we getting’ past the gate?” the roughest of the two before me asks.

  “I’ve got help on the inside.” My own Fingers, in a way.

  Frank, the gardener.

  Turns out being helpful and offering a hand when I had time to kill, paid off. The old guy appreciates me enough, feels badly enough about the loss of my mother, that he was more than happy to slip me a coded card to open the gates. Didn’t even want payment for it. Simply picked up his hat, gave me a smile and a nod, and left the bar I met him in a few hours ago, wishing me well.

  “Everybody listen up.” I catch Abbey’s stern stare. “You too, girl.” A couple of the stragglers crowd in to hear what I’ve got to say. “Once we take his eyes and ears down, it’s all on, exactly like we talked about over and fuckin’ over at the clubhouse.” A few people nod—it’s about all I can make out in this light. “We’ve each got our roles, and we’ve each got a job to do tonight. Nobody said draggin’ this asshole off his throne would be easy, but I can damn well promise you one thing: it’ll be worth it.”

  A hushed mumble of agreement ripples through the group as they shuffle around to get in position. The two men I briefed first co-ordinate the rest, while Tuck overseas it all from mid-point. Dull yellow dots of light begin to spread out over the roadside grass as each man reaches his position: our signal system. From a distance, the lights would look as though there were fireflies hopping the seed heads.

  “Come here, Abbey-girl.” I hold my arm out, coaxing her in.

  She snuggles close, wrapping her arms around my waist. “You need to get going, bossy pants.”

  “You got that gun I gave you?”

  She nods against my chest.

  “Anyone that ain’t me and is actin’ strange. Got it?” If I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that you can’t trust anyone—not even your closest friend.

  Even me . . .?

  Especially you.

  “I’ll be fine.” She slips away, pushing up on her toes to meet my kiss halfway. “Now go.”

  I take two crouched ste
ps, and then hesitate. Fuck it. I’m still waiting on no less than five guys to get in position. I’ve got a minute while they shimmy their way down the road, out of sight.

  Abbey smiles, totally aware of my intentions when I scoot back and pull her to my chest, falling on my ass as I do. The bag of ammo jams between us, and I let go of her long enough to drop it to the ground beside me. She knocks me to my back, and then crawls over top of me like the vixen she is.

  I place both hands on her backside to grind her hips into mine, fucking praising whoever’s listening that I asked her to wear her teeny-tiny cut-offs for the occasion. The denim slides out of the way easily, and I lose no time thrusting two fingers inside her. Her head drops to my shoulder; her whispered moan enough to have me wishing we had longer. Digits slick with her arousal, I slide them free and move my fingers to my mouth as I count how many lights are visible now.

  Her chest rises and falls rapidly against mine as I lick my fingers clean.

  “A taste of what’s to come,” I tell her.

  She places a single kiss to the point of my jaw. “Surely you’ve still got a minute or so, pretty boy.”

  “Guess it’d be a damn shame to waste those precious seconds, huh?”

  “It would.”

  Her mouth slips open on a moan as I thrust my fingers back in her slick pussy. She bites down on my collarbone as I curl my fingers and rub the sweet spot inside her to have her coming over my hand in seconds.

  Abbey’s body shudders as I roll her beside me and prop myself up on one elbow to look at her shadowy figure in the dark. She stays still, most likely watching me intently while I clean off my hand, finger by finger.

  “I think I’m good to go now.”

  She giggles softly, giving me a little shoo with her hands. “Go have fun, okay?”

  “Always.” I steal another quick kiss at the same time as Tuck gives the signal to start.

  The gentle whistle of suppressed gunfire swirls around us, my heart picking up pace at what the sweet sound means.

  The day’s finally come. It’s here, the greatest moment of my life. I’ve waited so damn long for this, so long that I can’t really believe it’s happening.

  “Pretty boy.”

  I hesitate, positioned ready to scoot across to the gate. “I gotta go, baby.”

  “I know . . . .”

  “But?” I reach out and fumble until I find her neck.

  “Tonight isn’t about you anymore, baby.” She taps a finger to my head. “It’s about letting your devil take the lead.”

  I nod, placing a chaste kiss on her salty lips. “Baby, don’t cry.”

  “Make sure he brings you home.” The concern in her voice almost undoes me. “I’ll be right back there, waiting by your bike.

  “He’s never let me down yet, Abbey-girl.”

  Yet . . . .

  FORTY-ONE

  Sawyer

  I left the damn bag behind.

  A wash of panic makes its way from my head to my toes as the beep of the gate control echoes around my skull. Fuck.

  Shouldn’t have let the girl distract you . . . .

  Didn’t see you reminding me either, asshole.

  I pocket the access card and slip toward the open gate, the crunch of my brothers’ boots on the gravel the only other sound. Floodlights click on in succession across the property, left to right.

  We’re sprung, sooner than I’d planned.

  Fucker really has upped his security since I broke out.

  “No point fucking around now,” Tuck hollers. “Get inside. Shoot to kill.” He slips right to find safety behind a fountain in the middle of the lawn while he covers the rest of us.

  I knew he wouldn’t go far. King told me the big secret—he’s dying of cancer—so I wouldn’t get mad if I saw him easing off.

  Poor bastard.

  Two guards come at us from the right, quickly taken down by our greater numbers. Three of Tuck’s guys head left to take on the rent-a-cops running in from behind the house.

  I push harder, pumping my thick legs to reach the front door before any one of these paid monkeys manages to break through. My right foot hits the first step, and the enormous double doors swing open.

  Three rounds later, I have two dead security personnel, a graze from a bullet on my left shoulder, and a VIP ticket to the main house. My father’s office lies to the left, but I bypass it, sure he’ll be in the heart of the property same as last time we did this dance, out of harm’s way as best he can.

  The night is eerily quiet as I slip through the door from the entrance hall, out into the pool area. The courtyard sits encased on three sides by the house, partially barricaded by two stories of vine covered stone. When I broke out, it was here that my father hid from the carnage Hooch and the Fort Worth boys unleashed out front.

  Tonight though, it’s empty. Not a soul in sight.

  The pool glows blue, the submerged lights giving the still night an almost ethereal feel. I glance to the sky, frowning. Does she watch me, my mother? Does she look down on her boy with tears in her eyes, or proud that I’m still fighting for justice against the asshole who sired me, even after all this time?

  Better keep focus, my devil warns, or you’ll be up there to ask her yourself sooner than you’d like . . .

  I heave a sigh and backtrack, checking all directions and feeling increasingly uneasy the further I go in the house without any resistance. What if our intel was wrong? What if my father’s not here at all?

  Fuck.

  I make my way back through to his office, and find it empty as well. The sentimental part of me keeps my feet rooted to the spot a second too long, my gaze fixed on the very section of floor where my old man shot Dana, and killed her father, Hooch’s father, Judas.

  The door hinges let out a single, split-second squeak behind me. My hand is on my gun in a flash, but I’m still too slow.

  Cold metal bites into the back of my head.

  “I’m going to count to three and then you’ll remove your hand from your weapon as I lower mine, okay?”

  That voice—I know it. “Sully?”

  “Three,” he says with a chuckle, pulling the barrel from my head. “Didn’t think I’d see you here again.”

  “Likewise.” I turn and face the man who helped Elena escape, the same guy who’d help me sneak in and out when I was just a teenager living under this cursed roof. “I thought the asshole would have killed you by now.”

  “Couldn’t prove anything,” he replies with a smirk.

  “It’s still risky workin’ for him, isn’t it?”

  “I got my reasons,” he says with a firm stare. “Besides, I cut a deal that means I have to stay until I deliver what was agreed on.”

  “A deal? With who?”

  Two of Tuck’s men come barreling through the front door with Alvarez. I lift a hand to let them all know it’s okay.

  “Hey, Sully.”

  Not that it matters, clearly. I shoot the Breed member who addressed Sully a questioning glare.

  “I struck a deal with their boss,” Sully reveals, pointing to the Devil’s Breed men.

  “You’re our intel?”

  He nods. “You’ll find your father in the library.”

  I sigh, rubbing my forehead with one hand. “Am I in the fuckin’ twilight zone or somethin’?”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Firstly, you’re here. And secondly, my old man is in the one part of the house he can’t usually step foot in without having a fuckin’ mental breakdown.” My mother’s part of the house.

  “He doesn’t know he’s there.” Sully winks, and then casual as a chance meeting at the store, he wanders out the door with a promise to catch up soon.

  I give my head a slap; sure I’ve finally lost it completely.

  “We lost two,” one of Tuck’s men informs me. “One of your guys, and one of ours.”

  “We sure there ain’t any ambushes waitin’ to happen?” It seems too easy, too quick.


  The Devil’s Breed member licks his lips and grimaces.

  “What?”

  “Your buddy there”—he thumbs in the direction Sully left—“gave us a helpin’ hand, it seems.”

  Stealing your show, my devil grumbles.

  Hardly. The guy just never knew when to quit helping others. He’s the most selfless idiot I know. Idiot, because who else would knowingly go against a psychotic drug lord with a penchant for gruesome torture?

  You . . . .

  Touché.

  “We checked the out buildings like you asked,” the Breed guy explains, “and found a few bodies he must have prepared earlier.” The dark-haired guy quirks an eyebrow. “Bullet to the head, execution style.”

  I step across to the open entrance doors and stare after Sully as his shrinking frame reaches the main gates. The guy’s literally walked in here like a guardian angel, clearing the way for a perfect finale to one fucked-up tragedy.

  “What now?” Alvarez asks.

  “I guess we do what we came for,” I murmur, still frowning at the distant outline of Sully. “We pull the pin on my old man’s reign.”

  “Lead the way,” Breed boy says. “We’re just here for the show.”

  He smirks as I catch his eye. I kind of like the guy. “What’s your name again?”

  “Jacob.”

  I nod, making a note to remember that in case he could come in handy with any future “projects.”

  “This way then, men.” They trail after me as I lead them right of the grand staircase, toward my mother’s wing of the mansion. “Any of you fuckers bring the popcorn?”

  A couple of chuckles sound behind me as I press an ear to the door that leads through to the servants’ break room. Lifting a finger to my lips, I turn the handle slowly and push the door open. The lights are out, probably in the hopes we’d think nobody was in here. But I catch the distinct sound of fear as a female hiccups in a ragged breath.

  “We’re not here for you,” I call out, stepping into the cloakroom that leads through to the main lounge.

  Don’t have time for this . . .

  Settle down. The old man’s not going anywhere.

  Jacob follows, rifle held at the ready across his mid-section as I step through the dark space. Alvarez and the other Devil’s Breed man stay behind, watching the corridor.