by Jani Kay
My legs felt like someone had poured concrete into them, yet I willed them to move by sheer determination, forcing one in front of the other until I fell to my knees by the side of my friend. My stomach lurched. Mayhem had broken out around me. I couldn’t even hear my own screams as I trembled, turning him over, searching for the bullet wound I’d blown through him sixty seconds ago.
Gasping for air like a fish out of water, the first thing I saw was a bloodied knife stuck into Ratbag’s heart. His eyes were glazing over as I held him in my arms. It's not my bullet that mowed my friend down. Thank fuck!
“No, Ratbag. Don’t you die on me, motherfucker,” I breathed, my eyes fucking misting over.
“Ryder. Brother . . . I love y . . .”
The light in his eyes dimmed as if someone had blown out a candle. Sweet mother of God, was Ratbag dead?
I put my ear to his mouth, listening for his breathing, but there was nothing.
Nothing.
Chapter Forty-Six — Harrison
The sound of a single gunshot rang out into the quiet of the Sunday afternoon. Fuck, what was happening just over the wall? Savage and I were still arguing about when we should send in the troops to ambush the weapons deal that was going to go down in less than thirty minutes when we were both stopped in our tracks.
Screams and shouting did not bode well. I ran toward the window, eager to see outside. I couldn’t believe my eyes when a man, dressed in black, skimmed over the wall, carrying a sack over his shoulder. No, it wasn’t an inanimate sack; it was a child. A fucking child.
How the fuck did that just happen?
“Sav,” I shouted, “a fucker just scooped a kid from the compound. We gotta stop him.”
“What? Fuck!” Savage yelled as he jerked the door open and ran outside, his gun already in his hand. I followed in his tracks, hoping we could catch the fucker. In all of this fucked up mess, I didn’t want another kid hurt. Fuck no.
We ran in the direction we’d seen him go just in time to see him jump into a black van that stood at the end of the driveway.
“Get the plate number,” Savage yelled. But there was none. Of course there wouldn’t be any plates. These guys knew what they were doing.
There had to be something I could do to stop them. I ran as fast as I could toward the van, removing my gun from the holster. My lungs burned as I drew level with the van and caught a glimpse of the driver’s face. His head was shaved and adorned with large tattoo swirls. For a split second his eyes met mine, widening in surprise when he saw me. A snarl unfurled from his lips.
Tires screamed as the van pulled away, leaving a trail of burning rubber in its wake.
Planting my feet wide, I aimed at the van and shot at the wheels. He started swerving across the road, making it difficult to get a clear shot, then the van disappeared around the corner.
I knew that face. My brain went into overdrive trying to process the information. Then it struck me: Cobra! The fucking president of the MC. How was it even possible? What the fuck was going on? Why the fuck would Cobra Malone kidnap a kid from his own compound? It didn’t make sense.
At that moment a few men came tumbling over the wall. They weren’t as graceful at landing on their feet as the dude in black had been. They fell to the ground, cursing and screaming as they got up and ran toward us. I recognized Ox and Hammer. Where the hell was Knox? Why hadn’t he come over the wall yet?
“Fuck. Why didn’t you stop the van?” Ox roared at me, inches from my face so that I could smell his repugnant garlic breath. This man was nearly as big as Savage. He looked as if he wanted to snap me in half like a twig, his eyes bulging out of his head as he stared me down.
Before I could even attempt an explanation, the big gates next door swung open and the next minute a black SUV screeched out. As it got closer, I recognized Knox. He was covered in blood. Fuck, had he been shot? He screeched to a stop next to me. His eyes were bugging out of his head and his jaw was set tightly. The grim expression on his face was murderous.
“Get in, Summers. Now.” I didn’t have time to stop and think. I jerked the door open and drew in a breath. Lying on the back seat, blood pouring from his heart, a dagger still stuck in it, was a man I recognized as the Australian dude we were wanting to deport soon.
He looked stone-cold dead to me. One less fucking illegal immigrant. One less criminal.
But the blood . . . I fought down the bile that rose in my throat and looked away. I needed to control this feeling I got every time I saw fucking blood—especially in front of Knox. I swallowed down the bitter taste, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to hide my queasiness and make sense of what was going on. Even though I didn’t look back, the smell of blood still filled my nostrils. It wasn’t a strong scent, but I’d been so immersed in it when Amy got shot that I’d never forget it. Blood always evoked memories of that day and turned my stomach . . . it was the one part of my job I really sucked at, because I was exposed to copious amounts of blood on a regular basis, yet it never got any better. My reaction to it was always the same.
Ryder leaned out of his window, shouting to Hammer. “Get hold of Cobra. Tell him his son has been snatched. We’re going to the hospital to save Ratbag. I’m taking Summers with me to get us through the traffic.” His voice broke. I nearly felt sorry for Knox; he actually believed he could save the man on the back seat. Going to the hospital was pointless—I knew what a dead man looked like. And the black van had long disappeared.
I leaned over from the passenger side and gripped the steering wheel tightly with one hand. “Knox. Listen to me. It's too late. He’s dead. The hospital can’t do anything for him.” Ryder stared at me in disbelief, as if I were speaking a foreign language.
“No. We can save him. He’s just having difficulty breathing.” Ryder was losing it. I knew how close he was to his biker brothers, but surely he’d seen a dead man before? Even killed someone by his own hands?
“He’s dead, Knox. Stone dead.”
His eyes were wild. “You fucking cocksucker. Don’t say shit like that.” He spat at me, his voice filled with venom. He looked as if he’d take my head off. I wasn’t taking any chances—I punched him in the face, trying to bring him back to reality. If we wanted to save the child, we had to act fast. Now wasn’t the time to go into shock or to grieve. There would be plenty of time for that later. Like, years.
Knox’s eyes widened in shock. He rubbed his jaw, cursing, but at least I’d stopped him from wasting time. I whipped out my phone and pressed the buttons to dial the head office.
The squad was on standby, but I doubted they’d be deployed for the purpose they’d sacrificed their Sunday afternoon for. I knew Cobra would never go through with the deal.
Cobra! The man driving the fucking getaway van.
Was this a diversionary tactic? To take our attention off the weapons deal? What the fuck was going on?
This had to be a staged hoax: Cobra pretending to kidnap his boy so we’d give chase and forget about the guns being smuggled right under our noses. Jesus. I nearly fell for it.
I whipped out my gun and held it to Ryder’s head. “Call your boys off. I’ve been wanting to put a fucking bullet through your head for a long time. Don’t make me do it.”
“Have you gone stark raving mad, Summers? A man is dead and a child has been kidnapped. What kind of game do you think this is?”
“Just the kind of game the man who is screwing my naïve and innocent sister . . . without qualms . . . is playing,” I bit out, angry with myself for getting caught in this intricate web of deception.
Ryder turned to me, the look in his eyes one of desperation. “Listen. We have our differences, but I need you to know two things. One: I fucking love Jade, and I’d give my life for her. Two: Ratbag here would have died for nothing if we don’t get the kid back. Jamie suffers from A.D.D. and asthma; he’s going to be scared shitless and be scarred for life . . . if the fuckers who to
ok him don’t . . . kill him.” He nearly choked on the last words.
Ryder Knox had bared his soul to me in this moment. He was telling the truth.
Did I want the blood of yet another child on my hands? Fuck no.
There were already two.
No more.
Chapter Forty-Seven — Ryder
Cobra’s bike came roaring down the road with all the boys he’d taken on this mission in tow. Clearly they’d decided to abort the weapons exchange. A heavy sigh escaped my chest: this was going to be one of the hardest things I’d had to do to Cobra. We’d been through a lot of shit together in our lives, but few things trumped your firstborn and only son to be snatched and possibly killed for an unknown reason.
Summers and I got out of the SUV and stood waiting in silence, our stances wide and arms folded across our chests, our eyes pinned on the bikers approaching us. There was an unspoken temporary truce between us. To my surprise, he’d turned a weird shade of grey, cold sweat breaking out on his skin, and a horrified expression had appeared on his face when he’d taken in all the blood on my clothes and where I’d wiped my hands on my jeans. He’d avoided looking at me, or at Ratbag. The sight of the bloodied body had somehow rattled him—I could have sworn he’d wanted to vomit.
His big-as-a-house partner had radioed the head office and helicopters were being deployed to help search for the black van, but I knew in my heart it was futile. These snitchers knew what they were doing. Jamie was more than likely going to be taken across the fucking border, and locked up in a dark musty room that would cause him to have an asthma attack. They might as well put a gun to the boy’s head—it would be more merciful than dying from a lack of being able to breathe. My heart crimped at the thought. I loved Jamie as if he were my own kid.
Cobra jumped off his bike and virtually pushed the cop out of the way to look into the SUV. I’d told Hammer to only tell him that Ratbag had been shot. I wanted to deliver the news of the kidnapping myself.
I caught Summers pulling in a sharp breath when he saw Cobra. It was as if he couldn’t believe that the president of the Scorpio Stinger MC was standing in front of him. I couldn’t put my finger on it; there was just something strange about the way he stared.
My fucking head was throbbing. My gaze fell on Ratbag’s body, his arms stiffening in the folded position I’d laid him in on the back seat.
“Fuck. All that blood.” Cobra bent over and threw up, inches from Harrison’s boots. The cop took a step back, but his scrutinizing gaze didn’t leave Cobra’s face. Even I looked away when he vomited, but not the cop. Either he had a strong stomach, or he was looking for something. Why? Why did he look at Cobra as if he were seeing a ghost?
“Take off your helmet,” he ordered.
What the fuck? Cobra wouldn’t take off again now he was here. What was the cop on about?
Cobra didn’t hesitate. He plucked it off his head and threw in onto the front seat of the SUV. He was pale and breathless, and I hadn’t even told him about Jamie yet. He was going to lose his shit when he found out.
Harrison’s gaze went straight to Cobra’s head. “No tattoos,” he muttered under his breath and walked away. I didn’t understand what the hell he was talking about. Cobra was covered in tattoos. Everywhere except from his neck upwards had been inked. Summers must have been hallucinating.
“Brother. Sit down.” I nodded toward the front seat of the SUV. Before he could protest about sitting in the car where a dead brother lay, I pushed him backward gently then cleared my throat. “There’s something I have to tell you. How Ratbag died.”
“Yes. How the fuck did that happen?” He narrowed his eyes and stared at me. “I left the two of you to look after the women and kids while we were gone. You chose Ratbag to help you. How the hell did you get him killed with a fucking dagger?”
My throat felt dry and restricted, as if I couldn’t breathe. I tugged at my T-shirt. Why did they have to make these so fucking tight?
Raking my fingers through my hair, I looked down at the ground and kicked a stone while I tried to formulate the words in my head. So much was going through my mind that I could barely make sense of what had happened.
I looked up into piercing eyes. “Quit stalling, Ryder. Tell me,” he demanded, his patience wearing thin.
Might as well cut to the chase. “Jamie. He’s been taken.”
Cobra sucked in a breath. “What do you mean? Where to?”
“Someone came over the wall. I’d gone inside for five minutes. The fucker jumped the wall and scooped Jamie up. Ratbag tried to stop him. The lowlife knifed our brother.”
“What the fuck? Where’s my kid?” He flew off the seat, breathing hard in my face. “Mia . . . does she know?”
I nodded. “Mia saw the fucker take him.”
Cobra snarled and banged his forehead with his palm. “Fuck.”
I pointed to Harrison and his partner. “The cops are working on it. There’s something weird going on. The two of them have been talking quietly without letting me hear. A black van was waiting out here. They saw something—”
“Saw something? As in—they were here when it went down?” he bellowed.
Before I could stop him, he stormed off toward the cops. I followed closely.
Cobra stood in front of Summers and his partner, his legs spread wide, his hands on his hips. “Why in fuck’s name did you not stop them? Do you know how small the chances are of getting him back alive the longer we take to find him?” He was shaking with rage, a thick vein in his neck throbbing as he clenched his jaw.
“Mr. Malone. Calm down. We have a good idea of who took him. I've just had confirmation from the office. Something I saw put me on their track.”
“What did you see? It better be good, or there will be hell to pay.”
Savage took a step closer to Cobra and poked a finger on his chest. “If you weren’t so fucking busy with illegal shit you could’ve been there for your own kid. So shut the fuck up and listen. The kid was taken by your archenemies. The L.A. Demons have him.”
“What?” Cobra roared. “This is full on fucking war. They should know better than to kidnap a Scorpio Stinger kid. They’re dead—every one of them.”
“How can you be so fucking sure?” I asked, directing my question to Summers. It was my turn to be suspicious and to smell that something was off. Were these fucking cops trying to fuel the hatred between the two clubs for their own purposes? Maybe it was all a fucking setup. Maybe they’d staged the whole thing to let us think it was the L.A. Demons. That would be genius on their part—to let the two rival clubs take one another out. That would make their job a whole lot easier.
My gut churned. If I didn’t have a fucking ulcer already, I was going to develop one soon enough.
“I saw the guy driving the van. I have a positive I.D. on him. He’s part of the L.A. Demons. In fact, he’s their new V.P. Apparently he gets sworn in next week.”
“How do you know all this shit? Since when do you follow club business?” I snarled at him.
“Since I made it my business to know. Ten years and counting.” I wished I could wipe the smirk off his fucking face. This truce wasn’t going to last long, the way things were going . . .
Cobra leaned forward with his hands on his knees, trying to steady himself. “We have to go find Mia. She saw the guy snatch Jamie. She must be beside herself with worry. Let’s go, brother.” I pulled him toward the gate as I threw the SUV keys to Ox. “Clean it up. And organize a decent funeral for Ratbag. He was a fucking hero; he deserves to be buried as one.” We walked through the gate before a thought hit me. I turned back and beckoned Hammer over. “Get hold of Ratbag’s family in Australia. Give them the hero version of what happened. Tell them about the funeral. Maybe they want to attend. Other than them, keep it under wraps. Nobody else needs to know we lost a man today.”
Hammer nodded. I knew I could count on both him and Ox to do their best for Ratbag. Now that I’d started to get over the shock of
his death, I was just grateful that I hadn’t actually been the one to kill him.
Facing Mia? That was another story altogether. She wasn’t going to take it well. I’d failed her. I’d fucking let Jamie fall into enemy hands. She would never forgive me for that.
Two babies had been lost already. I was praying to a god I’d never believed in before to please not make it three.
Chapter Forty-Eight — Jade
Ryder and my father tried to dissuade me from attending the funeral. Both men felt it was too soon for me to go out, and especially to something as confronting as the death of a friend. I’d really liked Ratbag. He was the type of guy who could always make me laugh—it was a gift few people had, and I’d miss his face at gatherings.
I was adamant; maybe it could help me come to terms with what had happened with my baby. And I really wanted to be there for Mia. Young Jamie hadn’t been found yet, and she was beside herself with grief and worry.
At the funeral parlor I went in search of Mia. We’d spoken over the phone in the last few days, but I needed to see her face to face.
“Mia, you’ve got to stay strong, honey. Ryder and Harrison are doing everything they can to get to the bottom of it. I can’t believe they even decided to call a truce while they are trying to gather info.” I put my arm around her shoulder, trying to comfort her. The pain in my heart squeezed again as I thought of little Jamie, the child who was so shy around strangers. I wondered how he was coping being away from his mother. Three days was a long time in a child’s life. I hoped that whoever had him was at least feeding him and giving him a warm bed at night.
This was beyond fucked up. Why would anyone want to take a child away from his or her parents? If they had a problem with the club or any of its members it needed to be dealt with adult to adult. Only cowards would use a child as a pawn in their sick game.
I’d spoken to Harrison about it. He said he had clues, although he wouldn’t tell me more. I was sure it was because he was afraid I’d tell Ryder. But he seemed optimistic that Jamie was alive and unharmed. At least that was some sort of relief. Not much to go on, and not enough to sustain a mother who was pining for her child, but at least a positive straw to clutch at.