by Brook Wilder
She imagined her sister, and her baby daughter. What they were doing. Whether or not they knew Hannah was missing yet. She hated knowing that it would cause Rachael worry when all she should be focused on was her sweet newborn.
Hannah imagined her mother. She was just a vague memory now, with the same dark hair and laughing eyes. Hannah wondered what her life would have been like if she’d stuck around. How different would she be? Would she be more trusting? Would she still put the world in tiny, logical boxes that she could dissect? Would she be able to feel?
Hannah shook her head at the thought, swiping at the sweat beading on her forehead. She could feel. She did feel. Deeply. Sure, perhaps she preferred that things made sense, but didn’t everyone?
As her mind churned, her feet grew heavier and heavier with every step. The stress and wear of the last two days were finally starting to catch up to her and Hannah could feel it in every screaming, aching muscle.
As morning wore on into afternoon, the pain faded to numbness. Distantly, Hannah wondered why she wasn’t more afraid. She knew any rational person would be terrified, but she wasn’t.
Maybe I’m too exhausted to be frightened, Hannah thought to herself, lord knows I’m plenty tired. And hot. God, why is it so damned hot?
Hannah stumbled on a dip in the path, tried to regain her balance but the world seemed to suddenly shift around her. Almost like everything had turned to liquid and was ripping out in dizzying waves.
“Finn…” Hannah opened her mouth, barely able to get out the word but somehow, he heard. She tripped again, falling into him as she reached out a steadying hand just in time to see Finn’s eyes narrow in concern on her face.
“Hey, princess,” Finn said, turning towards her now, “You alright?”
She tried to tell him she was fine. She tried to tell him anything but she couldn’t make a sound. It was like her mouth had forgotten how to work. Hannah had just grabbed weakly onto the fabric of his shirt when her legs went out from under her. A second later, everything went black.
***
Finn swore he heard Hannah whisper his name and then he felt the contact ricochet through his own body as she stumbled against him. He turned to her in surprise.
“Hey, princess, you alright?” He asked, but he could already see the answer written all over her face. She was pale as a ghost and he was just in time to see her eyes roll back in her head a moment before he reached for her.
Finn caught her before she could hit the ground and quickly checked her pulse. It was beating fast but not fast enough to cause him to panic. He’d seen that familiar look of fatigue before that he’d just seen in her face.
For a long moment, he knelt there with her surprisingly slight weight supported in his arms as he looked down at her. Finn wiped some of the damp sweat from her pale forehead and for the first time, he let himself truly think about what he was doing.
He’d kidnapped her believing she was Rachael, believe she was Jackrabbit’s woman and that he’d be able to use her as part of his plan to get his revenge. But even after discovering that he’d made a major fuck up and kidnapped the wrong sister, he’d still refused to let her go. He’d continued to tell himself that he could use her to his own ends.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, Finn was conflicted. Part of him, a small part of him but there nonetheless, was telling him that Hannah was an innocent in all of this.
But another part, the louder part, the part that had helped him survive all these years with no one to rely on but himself, knew that he could still use her to get to Jackrabbit. Could use her to make him pay. To make them all pay for what they did. It was the least that they deserved. It wasn’t as if they’d never hurt an innocent.
Finn gently swept stray tendrils of dark auburn hair away from her face as he looked down at her but the tender gesture was at odds with the violent images that filled his mind. Memories of what had happened between them, memories of how Jackrabbit and Hatchet had betrayed him.
Mad Dog had been the old leader of the Roadburners and Finn had never met a meaner bastard in his life. After he returned from his second tour of duty, his life had been in shambles. He’d had no home. No family. No job. And a hell of a problem with authority.
The Roadburners crew had welcomed him in with open arms and he’d thought he’d finally found his real family there. Fuck, had he been wrong. It had been great at first. He’d even helped to enlist Hatchet and Jackrabbit into the crew. Military men who knew how to follow orders, and didn’t like to play by the rules. Just like him.
For a while, he’d been happy. Or at least had fooled himself into thinking that he could be. That he deserved to be happy. Fool, was right. Everyone in the crew knew that Mad Dog was rabid animal. He had no conscious and would do or sell anything if it brought in more profit.
He’d started to get suspicious of some of what Mad Dog was dealing in and had started digging. Finn had dug up a hell of a lot more than he’d expected to find. Like the fact that Mad Dog had been trafficking in underage girls. Selling them off to the black market like livestock led to the slaughter.
He’d confronted Mad Dog about it but no one had believed me. All most of the crew ever did was steal cattle or a few supplies every now and then, and usually from the big corporate ranches in the area that wouldn’t miss a few head of cows.
Mad Dog had threatened him then, threatened to destroy every single thing he cared about if Finn didn’t quit, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t quit. He couldn’t stop. His conscious was okay with a lot of fucked up things, but that wasn’t one of them. He’d had to draw the line somewhere or risk losing himself completely.
He’d tried to get Jackrabbit and Hatchet to rally with him but he couldn’t tell them what he knew. He didn’t want to fuck things up for them as well. But they wouldn’t trust him. They sided with Mad Dog and the Roadburners and Finn had been cast off, alone, betrayed by the only people he thought he could trust in the whole world. They’d cut him off from the only real family he’d ever had.
After that, he’d spent years tracking down the girls Mad Dog had sold off, all of those that he could find anyway. He’d formed his own crew as well, the M60’s. Not that they were exactly angels.
Finn snorted at the thought. Far from it. The M60’s crew was a group of the toughest, meanest men he knew. They stole what they needn’t to get by and they weren’t afraid to use firepower if they needed to, either.
But still, the memory of their betrayal raged inside him. He’d been planning for years to build up a crew of his own and return to break the Roadburners apart piece by piece. He couldn’t let doubt stop him, not now. Not when his vengeance was finally within reach. And not when he’d already lost so much to get his revenge.
That shootout at the Roadburner’s clubhouse had cost him dearly. Another mark against Jackrabbit and his crew. Another reason to make them pay. With that thought echoing in his head like a mantra, he lifted Hannah’s unconscious weight in his arms. He forced his guilt aside as he continued his trek to the M60’s hideout.
Finn knew that Hannah wouldn’t understand, but he also knew that it didn’t matter. This was his war to win, and he would, or he would go down trying. He was done letting the Roadburner’s control his life. He was going to take it back no matter what it took. No matter what the cost.
He glanced down at Hannah as he neared the hideout, his expression serious and intent. He didn’t have a choice. He’d been fighting this war for as long as he could remember. It had to be that way. Finn forced his anger to the surface, amplifying it until it drowned out any other emotion. It really was the only way.
There was no indication that he’d reached the hideout at first. Just another endless field of rolling grassy hills dotted with trees but as he topped the biggest hill, he saw it. An old, abandoned mine.
At first glance, it looked like a ghost town. No sound. No movement. The whole operation had been abandoned decades ago, and it had made the perfect place for
the M60’s to hide away while they laid their plans to take out the Roadburners.
Finn didn’t stop walking, still carrying Hannah cradled in his arms. He kept going until he reached what looked to be a solid wall made up of crumbling wooden beams. It took a little adjusting but a second later he was knocking on the door. A set of four knock, and then another four, in a rhythm that only a few men would recognize.
Finn stood there, waiting in silence as one minute melted into two. Finally, the wall cracked open to reveal a door hidden in by mud and cleverly placed boards. A large, gruff man with a massive beard peered out at him from the shadows. The man’s eyes widened with recognition a moment later and then his fierce countenance split into an infectious grin.
“Finn? Fuck, man, we’ve been getting worried. Well not me. I never worry about you. Not me. But some of the other guys, you know. After what happened and all.”
“Killian, maybe we can do this inside?” Finn said shortly, interrupting the giant of a man with a pointed look at the woman still held in his arms.
Killian gave her an odd look, noticing Hannah for the first time and without thought Finn held her closer, shielding her with his own body. Finn might not have noticed, but his second in command definitely did and Killian’s grin widened impossibly further.
“Yeah, of course, boss.” Killian stepped back but before Finn walked through the door he pinned the other man with a serious look.
“How bad is it, really?”
Finn watched as Killian’s expression fell, his gaze growing hard once more.
“Why don’t you come in and see for yourself.” He said, his faint Irish accent growing uncharacteristically somber as he nodded inside.
His words filled Finn with a sense of dread, but he knew he had a responsibility to his crew. As their leader. As their president. He took a deep breath and then walked in, Killian shutting the door behind them and hiding them once more.
Chapter 5
Finn walked into the hideout and immediately scanned the big, crumbling building for any traps, any one waiting behind a dark corner for him. Even with his own crew old habits died hard.
The old factory had been split up, essentially. The biggest space used for a hang out. It even had a makeshift bar. Granted the only thing it had stocked was piss masquerading as beer and whisky that might just as well have been gasoline but still, it kept the men happy.
The large back room had been converted into an office. That’s where Finn had spent most of his time, planning exactly how they would go after the Roadburners. A lot of fucking good that did me.
Finn rolled his eyes at the thought trying to keep his ever present anger under control. Every time he remembered what had happened at the Roadburners shootout, every time memories of Jackrabbit and Hatchet rose in his mind, the anger was there. Rage like lava boiling just under the surface, ready to explode at any moment.
Several eyes turned his way as he entered the main area and Finn quickly catalogued his crew. Dread settled in his gut at how many sets of eyes were missing.
There was Patch, sitting over in the corner at one of the mismatched tables and chairs they’d scraped together. He was cleaning his fingernails with the tip of a pocket knife, his one good eye squinting at him. The other one was covered with an eyepatch painted a violent shade of red with a crude drawing of an eyeball in the middle.
Next to him sat Mac. He towered over Patch, was nearly as tall as Finn himself and that was saying something. His face was smooth and clean shaving but his dark hair was long and pulled back roughly at the nape of his neck. Mac was quiet, rarely spoke, but Finn knew the man was tough as nails when it came down to it. Mac sent Finn a slow, respectful nod that he returned.
It took Finn another minute of looking to see the tall, lanky man sitting against the back wall. He was older, his hair going grey around the edges but only a fool would mistake him for weak or feeble. Butcher watched Finn with the dark eyes of a hawk, never blinking, not giving anything away. Just waiting.
The only part of him that moved was his left hand, his fingers testing the edge of the deadly sharp cleaver he had strung to his belt. His weapon of choice. It’s how he’d gotten his name, Butcher. And it also was scary as hell.
Although Finn and the rest of the crew knew all you had to do was talk to the man for five minutes to realize he was more interested in literature and fine wine that actually using the thing. Finn was pretty sure he just like the theatricality of it.
At the makeshift bar made of old pallets and crates sat the only other man in the room, Rooster. Like normal, he had a sour look on his face. The man took his time drowning another pint of what passed for a beer before shooting a narrowed eyed glare in Finn’s direction.
“So, you decided to come back after all.” Rooster sneered, the anger and alcohol evident in his voice. “Well, aren’t you just a stupid fucking bastard. Dumber than I thought.”
“Enough, Rooster,” Killian broke in, his soft accent cutting through Rooster’s words like a knife.
Finn shook his head, but he couldn’t blame the man for being pissed. Shit, he was pissed too. He deserved their blame.
“It’s fine, Killian.”
“No, it’s really not, boss,” Killian shot back, still sending Rooster a hard look, “Or are you no longer our leader? Our president?”
Finn took a deep breath, looking at what was left of his crew. “I know I fucked up. When we first set out to take down the Roadburners, you made the choice to follow me–.”
“You promised us money!” Rooster squawked from behind another glass of beer, “You promised us it would be easy pickin’s.”
“I never said it would be easy,” Finn clarified, splitting his gaze between all the men, “But I’m giving you the same choice now as I did eight months ago when we started this. Stay with me, follow my orders, or leave and go your own way.”
Finn paused, looking around the room, waiting as patiently as he could. Mac stood to his first, a resolute expression on his face.
“Yeah, I’ll fucking follow you no matter what, Finn. You’re our leader. I don’t give a fuck what Rooster said, I’m loyal to you, and to the M60’s.” He nodded once before sitting back down, the old chair creaking precariously under his weight.
Finn cast a sideways glance at Rooster who was pouting now behind his drink. He couldn’t help but wonder just what, exactly, the other man had said in his absence.
That would have to wait because Butcher was already rising to his feet. He tilted his head giving Finn a considering look before he opened his mouth, his voice surprisingly cultured coming out of that haggard face.
“As mac so eloquently stated, you are our leader. I will follow thee until the morning sun rises twice in one day, until these mortal coils are slackened, I will follow thee until death’s sweet welcome.” The older man finished his recitation, hand to chest in full dramatic pose before ending with a slight bow and retaking his seat.
Finn didn’t know whether to shake his head or applaud but before he could do either Patch was already speaking. Patch’s good eye was trained on him with a serious light in its blue depths.
“I’m with you. Always have been. Always will be.” Short, gruff, and to the point. Finn wouldn’t expect anything else from the man that was more rough edges than anything else. Finn nodded as he looked around the room, finally stopping on Killian.
The man was a giant, taller than Finn by a few good inches and just as broad. His long beard and shagging dark blond hair made him look like a Viking but he spoke with an Irish accent that softened the effect.
“And what about you?” Finn forced himself to ask. He’d been telling the truth. Any of these men could leave any time they wanted. The choice was theirs. He knew exactly how it felt to be forced to do something you detested, something that killed whatever goodness was left inside.
Killian’s brows rose in surprise at Finn’s question.
“You have ta ask, boss?” Killian shook his head, “Of course I’
m with you. Always, mate. Most of us, hell all of us, wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. I’d be ashamed of the man who tried to betray you after everything you’d done for him.” That last was said with a pointed look at the man sitting at the bar and Rooster shrugged uncomfortably under the scrutiny.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m here, ain’t I?” Rooster said petulantly, “I’m not fucking leaving now.”
It wasn’t exactly the declaration of loyalty Finn had been expecting, but he knew it was all he would get from the surly man. Rooster had a chip on his shoulder a mile wide, had since Finn had first saved him from getting the shit kicked out of him by a rival gang and offered him a spot on the M60’s. He didn’t think it would ever change. If anything, it had only grown worse over the past few months.
Rooster finally glanced in Finn’s direction, his beady eyes growing wide in surprise and then narrowing with some dark glee as they landed on the woman he still had cradled in his arms. Finn had nearly forgotten he was still holding her and something about the greasy look Rooster was shooting at Hannah made him want to punch the man square in his beak of a nose.