“Crusher,” he hissed. “Hal’s dead. I killed that stupid, weak boy a long time ago.”
“Hal,” she tried again. “Don’t you remember what it was like before? Before the MC? Remember right after Mom and Dad died, and you gave up your dreams to take care of me? We were a team, Hal, it was us against the world. We stuck together, we had each other’s backs. You helped me with my homework, and I made dinner and left it for you in the fridge for after your shifts at the factory. You volunteered at the community centre, and I brought you coffee from my weekend job at that café. Remember? Remember how we were?” The lump in her throat made it hard to talk, but she had to keep going. “I loved you, Hal, I loved you more than anything in the world. And I still love you… I’d do anything to get my brother back. Please. Please, Hal. Just – just come back to me. Come back, and let me go.”
He stood and stared at her for a long time, stared for such a long time that she began to feel hopeful. Then he started to laugh.
“Fuck, Shay.” He shook his head. “Never thought I’d see the day that you’d go for the pathetic emotional angle.”
“It’s not an angle,” she protested, stung. “It’s how I feel.”
“Well, there’s the difference between us,” he said. “‘Cause I don’t feel anything. Not for you, not for anyone. I haven’t felt for a long, long time, and I ain’t about to start now. So you can fucking quit it with the ‘trip down memory lane’ bullshit. I ain’t interested.” His eyes and voice were both steel now. “So. You want a choice, huh? Here it is: what’s it gonna be, Shay? You coming back with me? Or are you staying here with these assholes?”
Shay gazed up at him, still leaning up against the wall, his arms crossed as he regarded her with clinical detachment. The thought that her own brother was so cold and disinterested in her was almost too painful to bear, but now wasn’t the time to be hurt by that. Now was the time to make her decision.
It wasn’t a hard one to make, though. If she was going to be kept by the Fallen Angels, at least she’d be with Warren, and they’d be able to run when they thought the time was right. Maybe even today, if Ace ordered them out of the cabin.
In a sick, demented way, this was all working out just fine – but Hal didn’t know that. In his eyes, he was leaving her with a bunch of MC psychos… and she had to go with that, at least for now.
“No,” she said quietly. “I’m not coming with you. I’m staying here.”
He stared at her, impassive. “That’s your final word?”
“Yes.”
“If I walk out of here, then I’m leaving you in the hands of the Fallen Angels,” he told her. “I’m withdrawing any and all protection that you’re entitled to as my sister. I’m handing you over to them, and they can do whatever the fuck they want with you.” He paused. “So, this is your last chance. You coming with me?”
“No.” Her voice was louder this time, stronger. “No.”
“You do know what they’re gonna do to you, right?”
“Of course I know what they’re going to do to me. It’s exactly what your boys will do to me.”
“So why not come back?” he asked, genuinely puzzled. “If it all comes to the same thing, why not live that life back where you were raised?”
“Because.” She spoke very deliberately, finally saying things that she’d wanted to tell him for longer than she cared to think about. “Because I’d rather be treated that way by a bunch of random strangers than by my own brother. The fact that you just stood there for years – for years, Hal – and watched them rape me and hurt me… it made everything worse. You’re supposed to take care of me, have my back. Protect me. Over and over again, you’ve chosen not to, and I can’t stand that anymore. At least with strangers, I expect them to not give a shit.”
He stared at her for a long time, and then finally, he gave her a half-grin, shrugged. “OK.”
Shay watched her brother turn his back on her, start to head for the stairs. A part of her was simply unable to believe that Hal was going to do this to her – that he was actually going to leave her at the mercy of an MC. But a bigger part of her was watching with detachment, since it knew that none of this was a surprise, really. That this had been a long time in coming.
That part of her knew that all of this had been inevitable. She’d lost her sweet brother a long, long time ago, and she’d known it perfectly well, though she hadn’t been able to fully face it. Now she had no choice, though, and the luxury of denial was one that she could no longer afford: Hal was gone.
Shay lay still and silent, watching the man who used to be her brother walk away from her. Watched him just abandon her to her fate. She didn’t say one more word, and neither did he. His footsteps moved farther away, and she heard the door open at the top of the stairs. Another pause, then he sent her the strongest signal possible: he flicked off the lights and shut the door.
And she was left there, all alone in the blackness.
She was furious at herself when she began to cry – but she cried anyway. She curled up and in on herself, and lay there on that damn bed, cuffed in place, and wept in the dark.
Chapter Sixteen
“And?”
Crusher looked over at Kirk, shook his head in response.
“No surprise, huh?” Kirk said.
“Not really.” Crusher rolled his enormous shoulders. “So… I’m outta here.”
“And your sister?” Ace asked him, totally thrown for a loop. “What about her?”
Crusher was already at the door. “All yours. Do what you will with the little bitch.”
Standing way back in the corner of the kitchen, the one closest to the basement stairs, Warren blinked as he watched Crusher walk right on out the door, heard the roar of the man’s motorcycle as he peeled out and away. What the actual fuck was going on here?
That’s when it came to him: if Crusher was giving Shay to the Fallen Angels, then they could make their escape way more easily. They could figure it out, they could wait it out, wait for King’s Men to give them a sign. Then they could get the hell out. Together.
Hope bloomed in his chest, then took hold and took root, so fierce and strong. It was all going to be OK, and he struggled to keep his face cold and hard. A damn near impossible task, since all he wanted to do was smile big. Maybe dance around the kitchen, singing a bit.
Was this the ideal situation? No, not even remotely. He had never wanted to bring Shay back to the clubhouse; never wanted her to see him in his violent, horrifying MC life; certainly never wanted her to spend one minute in the kind of world that she’d walked away from barely in one piece. But if this was the only way for them to be together and plan their escape, then it’d have to do. They’d make it work, or die trying.
No sooner had he finished having this thought, Kirk pulled out his gun, pointed it at Ace.
Ace and Warren both froze.
“Kirk,” Ace choked out. “What the fuck, man?”
“Gun on the counter.” Kirk glanced at Warren, his gun moving back and forth, first trained on Warren, then on Ace, then back again. “You too, Derby.”
The men exchanged looks, saw the absolute blankness in each other’s faces. Knowing that they had no real choice here, they slowly withdrew their weapons. Ace set his on the island, Warren put his on the floor.
“Good,” Kirk said, swung both his eyes and the gun back to Ace. “Now, let’s have a little chat, huh?”
“About?” Ace said.
“About you being the rat.”
Warren felt his jaw drop open, looked at Ace wildly. That wasn’t possible, was it? Ace Cuddy, President of the Fallen Angels and one of Kirk Jensen’s most trusted lieutenants, had been working behind his back all these months? Ace had blown up all of those operations, Ace had shut down all those drug and sex trafficking corridors? Ace had been cooperating with the cops, and the feds, and King
’s Men?
No. No way.
But then Warren looked at Ace; really looked at him. And he knew that it was all true.
“Oh, shit,” Warren whispered to himself. He’d barely breathed the words, but Kirk heard him.
“That’s right,” Kirk said to Warren, his eyes still nailed on Ace. “Your Prez has been selling me out for months. Selling us out. All of us.”
Ace stood there, feeling incredibly calm about what was going on. He’d been so afraid of this moment, and he’d fought like hell to avoid it, done whatever he could do to prevent it from happening. But it had been inevitable, and all of his efforts had been like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. They’d been calculated, and they’d been careful, but ultimately, they’d been fucking pointless.
That was when he knew that in some deep, dark place, he’d always known that it was going to come to this. This moment had been fated to take place ever since he’d agreed to provide King with intel. He’d made his choice that night, back in that warehouse, and he’d made it while standing over Trigger MacGee’s dead body.
When he’d said yes to being a rat, in reality, Ace had been standing over his own corpse, and he’d always, always known that.
“Nothing to say, dickhead?” Kirk hissed at him. “No last words?”
Ace gave him a twisted grin. “Fuck you.”
Kirk paused. “Not very original, Cuddy.”
Ace shrugged. “Sorry about that. Maybe you want to give me a few tips? Give me some more interesting last words? Maybe from someone else you’ve had in your sights like this?”
“Well, I actually have a few things to say to you, if you’d like to hear them,” Kirk announced. “You want to hear them?”
Ace shrugged again, now counting his life in seconds, not minutes. “Sure. Knock yourself out. Monologue to your heart’s content.”
Kirk laughed. “Don’t you want to know how I figured out that it was you?”
“Nope.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Ace crossed his arms. “You figured it out. You’re very smart. Good for you. Gold star, man.”
“I set you up,” Kirk said smugly, clearly determined to crow and boast.
“Yeah. I guessed that part.” Ace tipped his head to the side, narrowed his black eyes. “Let’s see… I bet you gave each one of your top people a separate and different piece of information – maybe you gave different times or places for a drop or a meet – and then you stood back and waited to see at what time or place the cops swooped in. That told you which intel was passed on, and there’d only be one person who’d have known it.” He smiled at Kirk’s stunned expression. “Am I right?”
“How the hell did you know that?” Kirk spat out.
“Because that’s how I’d do it, if I were trying to flush out a rat.” Ace sighed. “So which op was it?”
“Remember the drug delivery a couple of months ago? The one up in the mountains, where the cabin ended up being burned to the ground, and three of your boys ended up in the ground? The one that ended up national news?”
“That one, huh?”
“Yep. I told everyone that the delivery would take place on different days… and damned if fucking Matt Kingston and his people didn’t show up on your day, all determined to shut down the op. That was all I needed to know, really.”
“So you’ve known that long, huh?” Ace mused, surprised despite himself. Kirk had never struck him as the patient type. “That was about the time that you started telling me that Crusher was your main suspect. Throwing me off my game, right? Making me feel safe?”
“You got it in one,” Kirk responded. “I was biding my time. Just waiting.”
“For what?”
“For Crusher to come and talk to his sister. I owed him a favor, and what he wanted was his sister grabbed by someone other than him or his MC. He wanted one last shot at dragging her back where she belongs, and I was willing to give it to him.” Kirk flashed Ace a smile. “I know all about demanding loyalty, and I also know all about punishing people who fail to show it. Oh, and by the way? Your brothers know all about you ratting them out to King’s Men and the cops, and right this second, they’re tearing your whole worthless life apart.”
Ace stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that they’re going through your bedroom and office at the clubhouse, and your apartment. They’re going through them with fucking crowbars, man, and they’re gonna tear your walls down, rip your furniture apart, go through every drawer, shelf, vent, crawlspace. Anything you’ve got hidden away, they’re gonna find it. Papers, phone numbers, burner phones, whatever. You got no secrets anymore, asshole.”
Ace was struck by a sudden horrifying thought, and the realization almost overwhelmed him. “Wait –”
“Wait,” Warren echoed. Yeah, it was probably way out of line for him to speak up and out of turn, but he didn’t care that he was interrupting. Also, he definitely didn’t like Kirk’s use of the word ‘punishing’, and his mind was still spinning with the suspicion that Kirk had been referring to Shay in an indirect way. “What are you going to do with her? With Shay?”
Kirk smirked at him. “You care about the little cunt, Kane?”
“Not the point,” Warren said harshly. “She’s a civilian, and she’s an innocent. She wasn’t ever meant to get all caught up in this.”
“But she is caught up in it,” Kirk said, his tone malicious. “She’s always been caught up in it.”
“And?” Warren forced himself to ask. “What happens to Shay now?”
“Let me show you,” Kirk said.
“Show –”
Warren had just managed to get the word out when Kirk shot Ace in the chest. Just shot him dead centre and as casually as if he were switching a TV channel. Ace flew backwards against the kitchen counter, flew back hard, and then he crumpled forward, landing on his face on the floor. His eyes were closed, and he didn’t move.
Kirk stared down at him, stared fixedly at his broad back. It was totally still, no rising and falling of breath. Kirk waited, then turned to face Warren with a wide smile, the gun held out and ready to fire again.
What he saw took him aback. Nobody ever got the drop on Kirk Jensen, and damned if this little dickhead was going to be the first.
“Put that fucking gun down, Kane,” Kirk snarled.
“No way that’s happening.” Warren’s hands and eyes were totally steady, his back against the basement door. He’d heard Shay cry out downstairs, knew that she’d heard the gunshot. He also knew that right now, he was all that stood between her and this fucking monster. “So don’t bother asking again.”
“What’s the plan?” Kirk said, going for reasonable. “We stand here and point guns at each other all the live-long day? Or we both shoot at the same time?”
“Your choice,” Warren responded. “Though I’d recommend choice number three.”
“Which is?”
“You walk out of here,” Warren said calmly. “Drive away, don’t look back. You let us go.”
“You and Crusher’s sister?” Kirk asked.
“Yeah. You go and we disappear, never to be seen again. We never say a word about any of this, and in return, you leave us alone.”
“Nope. Not gonna happen.” Kirk shook his head slowly. “Crusher wants her dead, and I promised him that I’d see it done. I ain’t a man who goes back on his word.”
“So we have a problem.”
“Indeed,” Kirk agreed. “You got a choice number four?”
Warren was just casting around for something witty and badass to say, when the guttural voice came from behind Kirk.
“I do.”
The shot echoed around the kitchen, so loud that Warren’s ears rang from it. Stunned, he watched a bright red flower bloom in Kirk’s chest, watched the color drain
from his face. The gun fell from his hand, and he fell to his knees, his hands scrabbling at his chest, his throat. He was fighting to hang on to life, but it was hopeless, and he knew it. All three men knew it, and they all held their breaths, watching and waiting for the inescapable.
Kirk fell now, fell forward hard and fast. Landed with a grunt, his eyes staring up at Warren. Warren just stood there and watched the life drain out of those cold blue eyes, just watched the man die right in front of him, feeling nothing but savage relief. That was when he looked up at Ace.
“How – but –” he stammered. “You were shot…”
Ace coughed, then undid the top few buttons of his loose denim shirt. Warren saw something gray and solid, and he blinked.
“Is that –”
“Yep.” Ace winced as he took his shirt off, ducked his head to examine the damage. “Bullet-proof vest.”
“Fuck right off,” Warren said. “How long you been wearing one?”
“Months. Ever since I turned snitch.” Ace twisted the bullet out of the vest, stared at it in distaste as it lay in his palm. “King insisted on it.”
Warren looked down at Kirk again, went and picked up his gun from the floor. He knelt, his fingers on Kirk’s throat.
“Dead?” Ace said with the utmost indifference, as he put his shirt back on.
“As a doornail.” Warren stood up again, wary and alert once more. “What happens now?”
“What do want to happen now?” Ace rejoined.
Warren didn’t hesitate for even one heartbeat. “I want out.”
“With Shay, right?”
“Yeah. We go together.”
“I know.”
“You – you do?” Warren wondered how many more shocks his system would be able to handle that day. “How do you know?”
“Aw, hell, Derby. I’ve known for three days.”
“How?” Warren repeated. “You haven’t set foot up here before today, and God knows, I haven’t told you anything.”
“King told me.”
“King –” Warren stopped dead. “Honey.”
Dark Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 6) Page 23