Sarge: Book 8 in the Vengeance MC series

by Thomas, Natasha

  Focusing on what can only be danger in the distance, I make out the shapes of men coming out of the shadows. They're not trying to be discreet or hide their presence. They simply walk slowly, shoulder to shoulder as they make their way to the porch.

  The moon is high in the sky tonight, casting a faint glow over the front yard, yet not enough for me to make out faces or features. This too unnerves me. I want to know what I'm up against, see what's coming for me.

  "Hurry, Em," I grit out, sliding my K-Bar into the sheath strapped to my ankle.

  Emily places a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turn to look at her, simultaneously cupping her beautiful face in my hands.

  "No matter what happens, I need you to promise me something," I say gruffly, injecting no small measure of demand into my half-hearted request.

  "Anything," she whispers in return.

  "If I tell you to run, you need to promise me you will. That you'll run and you won't look back. Get yourself to Ma's place and tell her to call the boys. She’ll know what I mean. Tell her to send them here, and that I'll leave what I can to lead them to me."

  "What?" Emily gasps. "No, Atlas. I can't leave you. I won't. You can't ask me to do that. I lo...."

  I don't let her finish before crushing my mouth to hers. Plunging my tongue between her soft, plump lips, I taste her for what could very well be the last time. I memorize the way she whimpers as I stroke her tongue with mine, gripping the back of her head and holding her to me. I sear into my brain the way her fingers feel on my biceps as she clutches me tightly, refusing to let me go. But what I know I will never forget, no matter if it's a day, a month, or ten years before I see her again, is the way her body melts into mine as if it's a part of me. As if we are one and the same.

  Eventually, tearing my lips from hers, I look deep into Emily's eyes which are already beginning to brim with tears and tell her,

  “Don't say it, baby. Not now. Not like this. The next time you whisper those words to me, I want to be inside you. I want to hear you scream them the next time I make you come.” Resting my forehead on hers, I ask, “Can you do that for me? Can you wait until I come back to you before you tell me again what I already know and feel in my heart.”

  Emily doesn't hesitate to press her mouth to mine and breathes,

  “Yes. And, Atlas? Just so you know, I will be waiting. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to come back to me.”

  Yeah, I know she will, and that's what worries me because I don't know who these assholes are or what they

  want. I don't owe people money, and I don't take on debts. I don't gamble, I haven't fucked anyone's wife, and I don't do drugs. That's not to say in my twenty-two years that I haven't made any enemies; I have. Not as many as some of the older guys in the club, of course, but nevertheless, enough to know what happens when they catch up with us and want to settle the score.

  A few of the men have had their asses handed to them when they went head to head with guys looking for revenge, but they didn't back down. Not even for a second, because that's not what we do, that's not who we are. We stand. We fight. And we protect those who matter to us. In this case, that's Emily because she more than matters; she's my fucking everything.

  Closing my eyes, I try to rid those thoughts from my mind to make room for more memories of Emily. Her scent. Her deep, soulful eyes. Her long dark hair. Her tight curvy body. But most of all, the memories of how she sounds when she laughs, the way her face lights up when I walk into a room, and how alive she makes me feel with the slightest touch of her hand on my skin.

  As the first knock sounds on the door, I urge,

  "Go. Go out the back door and take the path to the service road. Stay close to the tree line in the shadows."

  Emily's reluctant nod is all I need to calm my rapidly beating heart slightly at what could happen if whoever is out there finds her, but not entirely. No, I won't feel better until she's gone. Until she’s far enough away that whatever is coming

  can't touch her.

  "Now, baby," I say with my hand on the small of her back, guiding her out into the hall.

  With one last glance over her shoulder, Emily's small smile is of little reassurance, but I can't help loving her more for trying.

  "I won't say it, Atlas, but you know what you mean to me, so I expect you to do whatever you have to to come back to me."

  If I didn't know better, I'd swear a grin crosses my face at her demand, but I'm pretty sure it comes across as more of a grimace.

  "You know I will. Just get yourself gone and safe, sweetheart. I promise you, I'll get to you as soon as I can."

  I meant what I said that night. Every. Fucking. Word. I would fight tooth and nail, walk through the fires of Hell, and sell my soul to the devil if I had to to make my way back to my girl. Unfortunately, regardless of how much I meant each and every word, it didn't work out that way. In fact, it would be months before I saw my Emmyagain, and by then it would be too late.

  *****

  With Emily gone, I ready myself by checking my gun and sending up a prayer that my girl is on her way to safety before opening the front door. I should have known then that this wasn't your usual shakedown because generally, thugs don't use the manners their momma's instilled in them and knock. However, in the grand scheme of things, I wasn't worried about me, just Em, always Emily, so I didn't give it a second thought.

  My body goes rock solid as rage courses through my veins at the men standing in front of me. The instant my eyes land on the motherfucker in the middle – the apparent leader of this bunch of fuckwits – I know who he is.

  Emily told me about her asshole ex and how he raised his hand to her the week before she left to come down here, and I picked up enough in our conversations to put together what turned out to be a pretty accurate description of the prick.

  Overly styled hair, preppy looking rich boy, gives me a look of disdain before sneering,

  “Where is she? I know she's here so don't bother lying to me.”

  Running my eyes over him and his friends, I take note of the colors they're sporting and sigh.

  “Usual protocol for visiting another chapter is to give a brother a heads up, so I'm assuming this has nothing to do with club business,” I feign ignorance, not answering his

  question.

  “The way I hear it, you’ve put in a request to patch out of Skull’s crew and into Hog’s, so I’d say this is about as close to club business as business can be,” he grins cruelly.

  He’s right, I did ask Skull to cut me lose, and I did approach Hog about patching over, but that still doesn’t make what I’ve got going with Emmy any of this motherfucker’s business.

  Shrugging nonchalantly, I scoff,

  “Unless you’re wearing the President’s patch now, I don’t see how what I do or who I talk to is any of your concern. Now, are you gonna tell me what the fuck you’re doing here, or am I going to shoot first and ask questions later?”

  “Fuck you,” pretty boy sneers, taking a menacing step toward me. As expected, his flunkies move with him, but I’m ready for them.

  Drawing my gun from the back of my jeans, I level it at him and smirk,

  “I warned you, and I don’t do well with having to repeat myself, so I’d say you’ve got a choice to make. You either get the fuck off my property, or you get the fuck off my property. What’s it gonna be?”

  A sinister laugh bursts out of the assholes mouth before he can get a handle on it.

  “I think you know that’s not going to happen, man. I

  came here for a reason, and I’m not leaving until I’ve got my property back.”

  Shaking my head at the clueless fuck, I sigh,

  “Well, that’s gonna be a problem then, since I know you aren’t talking about my woman.”

  “Your woman!” He bellows. “Emily’s about as much yours as the patch you want will be if you don’t hand her over and forget you ever met her.”

  Now it’s my turn to laugh. Throwing my head
back I roar with it.

  “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

  Before I can shake off the hilarity of his statement, three guns are leveled in my direction.

  “Where. Is. She?” He snaps. “Emily, get your fucking ass out here, and do it quick before I shoot your fucktoy in the goddamned head.”

  “Good luck with that. She’s gone, asshole. Long gone,” I state, leaning heavily against the porch railing.

  I know I should be at least slightly worried about the unstable asshole standing in front of me, but I can’t find it in me to give the first fuck. Honestly, Scott’s probably the least dangerous creature out this way, fucking raccoons are more of a threat than he is.

  “I’m done playing, Sarge,” he spits. The fact he knows who I am doesn’t bother me; it was only a matter of time

  before my defection from Soldiers of Havoc was made public knowledge. That said, I can’t say I like he know where I lived and was able to get to me so easily, but I’ve got a feeling I know who gave him the info he needed, and you can rest assured he and I will be having a good long chat when I get home.

  Straightening to my full height, I glare down at him.

  “Not gonna lie, if this is your idea of a game, then I can see why Emmy quit playing it. I’m also gonna do you a favor and tell you now, she won’t be playing it ever again. She’s mine, so you best find a way to come to terms with that and do it fast. That or you and I are gonna have issues.”

  “I’m guessing we’re gonna have issues then, because I’m not leaving this shithole without her,” he returns, not taking his eyes off me. “You want a unanimous ‘aye’ when your patch goes up for vote then you’ll give me Emily and walk away. Forget you met her, and move the fuck on. Shouldn’t be too hard since you’ve only just met her.”

  Jesus, this guy really is fucking stupid. No one, regardless of how long they’ve known Emily could simply walk away. She is perfection in human form, and this asshole knows it.

  “Again, not gonna happen. Now, if we’re done with our little midnight pissing match, I’d suggest you get on your bikes and get the fuck gone,” I repeat shortly.

  Motioning to his boys to give us some space, Scott takes a step closer, lessening the distance between us by a

  few feet.

  “Look, I’m going to lay this out for you. Let you make an informed decision and all that. Emily and I have been together a little over two years. Sure, we hit a rough patch, and she took off down here, but that’s all it was; a rough patch. I’ve got every intention of asking that girl to marry me as soon as she gets home, and I’ve got every confidence she’s going to say, yes. I get that you think you and she had something, but I can promise you she doesn’t feel the same way.”

  Cocking a curious eyebrow at him, I signal him to go on. Truthfully, I’m interested to see where he’s going with this, full of shit or not. Nothing he can say will convince me that Emily wants his pathetic ass, but I’m not unreasonable enough not to give the douche a chance to plead his case. If nothing else, it should be entertaining.

  With a nod, Scott says,

  “Spoke to her old man, your Prez. He and I worked out our issues, and he gave me his blessing to marry his daughter.”

  Hmm, yeah, bullshit. No way in hell would Skull hand his only daughter, only child over to this man’s care. Especially, not after he raised his hand to her.

  “Took some convincing on my part, and a shit ton of promises, but he eventually came around to my way of thinking. This match, me and Emily getting married will be good for Vengeance and the Soldiers. There’s been bad

  blood between us for too long, and I’m not saying this is the answer to all of it, but it will definitely bridge the gap.”

  Fucking hell! Does he even hear the shit coming out of his mouth? Bridging the gap? Emmy isn’t a means to an end; she’s a beautiful, bright, intelligent woman who deserves better than this asshole will ever give her.

  “Skull’s not getting any younger, and neither’s Hog, they both want peace, and if this is a way to make inroads on that, then they’re both on board.”

  “So you’re telling me the man I’ve been calling Prez, the man I’ve looked up to since I was ten years old, the man that values family over everything else is willing to sacrifice his only child in the name of peace?” I question mockingly.

  “I wouldn’t quite put it that way, but sure, if that’s how you want to phrase it,” he nods as if we’re in agreement.

  Shaking my head in disgust, I growl,

  “I haven’t spoken to him, but I will be, and I’ll be telling him the same thing I’m gonna tell you. Emmy is mine. As soon as I can have it made, my patch is going to be on her back and my ring on her finger. If I can manage it, around the same time, my baby’s going to be in her belly, too. Now, you do with that information what you have to, but mark me; you fuck with my girl, and I will fucking kill you. Ask, Skull; I don’t mind getting dirty. In fact, the dirtier, the better.”

  “Jesus, her pussy that good?” He goads.

  Mistake. Big fucking mistake.

  Closing the two feet between us, I wrap my hand around his throat and slam him up against one of the posts holding up the porch, the wood creaking with the sudden impact.

  “Do not fucking ever let me hear you talk about her like that again. I don’t give a shit if you were with her two or ten years, Emily is not on your radar. Not anymore.”

  “I beg to differ,” Scott smirks.

  More stealthily than I gave them credit for, Scott’s lackeys flank me, grabbing both of my arms and pinning them behind my back. With a swift knee to my ribs, Scott takes one step backward, pulls his booted foot back and slams it into my gut. The wind is knocked out of me as I drop to one knee, and before I see it coming, all three men start in on me, taking turns to beat the ever-loving shit out of me.

  Once they’re satisfied I won’t be getting up anytime in the foreseeable future, Scott leans down, his rancid breath washing over me and states,

  “Take this as your only warning; you and Emily are done. She ceases to exist for you from here on out. You see her, you turn around and walk the other way. She calls you, you don’t answer. She seeks you out, you tell her it’s over. If you don’t, me and my boys are going to make your life and hers a living hell. And before you ask, no, that’s not a fucking threat, it’s a promise.”

  With one last kick to the side of my head, I fade into

  the darkness. My last conscious thought is of Emily, and how fucking sorry I am that I didn’t just go with her like she asked.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ~ Emily ~

  My cross to bear

  An hour and a half later in Emily’s hotel room…

  “Stop. Please, just stop and listen to me,” I beg, knowing there’s no point trying to reason with Scott when he’s like this.

  “Fuck that, and fuck you, Em. You don’t know it yet, but your ass is mine. Today. Tomorrow. Twenty fucking years from now, I own you,” he sneers, spitting on the floor beside my head.

  The headache that was working its way up to a migraine is now at full-force. The pounding in my temples from the multiple blows to my face makes my vision hazy. I can barely see out of my right eyes, and my depth perception is way off. If I had to hazard a guess, the nausea added to the other side effects is a good indication that I have a concussion, at the very least.

  Grabbing a fistful of my hair at the nape of my neck,

  Scott jerks my head back at a right angle until I’m looking right into his dead, cold eyes.

  “Was it worth it, taking that assholes cock? Did you enjoy yourself slut? I hope you did because that’s the last time you’re ever going to see him. And before you start telling yourself he’s coming to save your pathetic ass, he’s not. Me and the boys made sure he won’t walk on his own steam for a good long while, if ever. That’s even if he’s breathing anymore.”

  My pained gasp turns into an agonized whimper when Scott releases me, letting my body slump h
eavily to the floor while kicking me repeatedly in the ribs.

  Scott paces back and forth across the small motel room I rented when I first arrived in Tampa. It’s not much to look at, the carpet is stained from age and wear, and the twin-sized bed is creaky and in need of a new mattress about a decade ago. There’s a round table in the corner with two vinyl chairs either side, a chest of drawers against the far wall, which also doubles as a makeshift entertainment unit for the tiny, outdated black and white television. And the bathroom, equipped with a small sink, toilet, and small shower cubical is in desperate need of updating. But it was enough for me. More than enough. Especially considering, I have hardly spent a minute here since I met Atlas.

  The moment I saw his broad shoulders, strong arms, and handsome face smiling at me from the doorway of his mother’s diner, I was enamored. Five minutes later, after Atlas had introduced himself, I was in lust. Within an hour,

  I was sure my first impression of him was right; it was love at first sight.