by Anne Malcom
“But we will be okay,” I whispered.
Cade’s gaze was glued on Gwen. “Yeah,” he agreed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“She’s turning into a little human being,” I whispered, playing with Belle’s long curls.
Cade had forbidden Gwen to cut them, so they were tumbling all the way down to her little booty.
“They do that,” Gwen whispered back, smiling at her daughter.
She was beautiful, even as a toddler. Her green eyes, when they were open, were always sparkling, radiant against her tanned skin and dark hair. She had all of Gwen’s beauty and softness with Cade’s edge. All tumbled into a little girl.
“Cade’s going to shoot so many teenage boys when she grows up,” I said, giving her curls one last stroke before I stepped out of her bedroom.
Gwen followed me, shutting the door quietly. “Oh, I don’t know, I think she’s going to have him wrapped around her little finger when she’s a teenager, considering she does already,” she said, grinning.
I grinned back, happy that Cade had this to come home to, life and love and happiness to shake off that feeling of death. He had his family, the girls who he adored and his son who already worshipped him.
“You doing okay?” Gwen asked as she walked us to the living room littered in family photos. “You and Luke finally getting together, you getting shot, and your mom turning up in that way….” She handed me a much-needed glass of wine. “It’s a lot for one person, even you, babe.”
“Yeah,” I said, sipping my wine. I thought for a second. “No, I guess I’m not, actually.”
She sipped her own. “It’s okay to not be,” she said.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Is it bad to say I’m happy for you?” she asked. “Despite being hunted by a human trafficking ring and all that jazz.” She waved her hand. “But that’s just another Tuesday for you,” she teased. “But you and Luke, you’re finally what you were both meant to be. You’ve got it.”
I smiled. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”
“Kind of feels like the ugliness of the world can’t really get there, right into you, not when you’ve got him, right?”
I smiled. “I don’t even want to punch you for saying something that corny because it’s true.”
She sipped her wine. “I know, and I don’t even care about what an idiot I sound like. I’m a happy idiot with two beautiful children—who did not ruin my vagina, thank Lagerfeld—a husband who’s hotter than Hades, and girlfriends Carrie Bradshaw would kill for.”
And it was in that moment that Belle padded in, a toy bunny dangling from her chubby fingers, eyes thick with sleep. I grinned at my niece, knowing she would have some of her aunt’s rebellion about bedtime, and about other things. The grin froze on my lips when I saw the man following her, pointing a gun to the back of her tiny head.
Gwen shot up, wineglass flying from her hand and shattering to the floor. She was about to run to her daughter when the man stopped, grabbing Isabella’s arm so she dropped her bunny, but not tight enough to alarm her.
“Don’t move,” he commanded, voice flat. “Unless you want this to be your daughter’s last day on earth.”
I was standing by that point too, and both Gwen and I froze in absolute horror. Helplessness washed over me like acid.
Belle was still blinking away sleep, still not aware of the situation, thank God.
“My husband is going to kill you. Slowly. I’ll make sure he lets me play with you first.” Her voice was thick with fury and promise.
I was struck frozen.
“He won’t, I don’t think,” the man said. “Not once we’re done, at least.”
“What do you want, asshole?” I hissed, fury and terror pulsating through me. “Whatever it is, you can have it. Let her go.” Despite everything I’d been through with the club, laws we’d bent and broken, we’d never experienced this. We never hurt children.
He would die. If it was the last thing I did.
The empty gaze went to me. “So nice of you to ask, Rosie,” he said with a familiarity that made my skin crawl. “It’s you we want.”
I stepped forward immediately, before he even finished speaking.
“Done,” I said.
“Rosie, no,” Gwen choked, torn between her need to get her daughter out of harm’s way and her worry for me.
I ignored her. “Take the barrel of your gun off the four-year-old girl, motherfucker,” I hissed.
For the longest and most horrible moment, I thought he wouldn’t. I thought the finger resting on the trigger was going to squeeze and I’d watch the most sickening thing that could be done, a real-life nightmare. Something we’d never come back from.
Then the gun moved and I exhaled as it rested on me. I snatched my beautiful little girl, sniffing her hair one last time before I handed her to Gwen, tears in her eyes.
“Rosie, don’t do this,” she pleaded, kissing her daughter’s head.
“Tell Luke I love him. You already know I love you,” I said.
Then the man snatched my arm roughly, pressed the cold steel into my temple and we left.
To Death, up close and personal, I presumed.
I wasn’t knocked out.
Or blindfolded.
Which didn’t mean good things for me. Generally when people kidnapped other people with the intention of eventually letting them go, they made sure no evidence could lead back to them. Hence the need for blindfolds and chloroform and such.
“You’re one of Fernandez’s men, aren’t you?” I asked the silent man driving the SUV.
He hadn’t spoken since he’d bustled me into the car and told me he’d come back and shoot Gwen and the children while I watched if I tried any “funny business.” Yes, he said “funny business.” It would’ve been funny if he hadn’t been dead serious.
“The big bad crime lord really has to point guns at little girls to get who he wants?” I continued, fury turning my voice to ice. “I shouldn’t be surprised, since he picks on defenseless girls, makes money off their suffering. He’s a coward. Picking on people who can fight back isn’t actually his style, is it?”
Silence.
“You’ve got a mother? Wife? Daughter? How do you think they’d feel about this shit?” I spat.
More silence.
“I’m going to kill you. One day. And I can’t wait for that day to come, because you won’t be feeling so fucking mute. You’ll be begging for your life,” I promised.
He didn’t say a word.
I huffed, slamming my back into the seat and crossing my arms. Then my fingers snaked down to the knife in my boot, toying with the top of the handle.
I itched to sink it into the soft part of his neck. It would be easy. The car might crash, but the man who’d pointed a gun at my baby niece would be dead. Not a bad tradeoff. Then I remembered his promise. I didn’t doubt that another spineless evil prick would replace him to carry that out.
I let go of the knife, accepting my fate. But far from peacefully or happily. I didn’t want to die that day. There was too much to live for. How could it be the plan that everything I’d ever wanted was in my life and now my life was over?
“That’s the way the cookie crumbles,” I whispered, mimicking Lucky’s words.
Maybe that’s what happened. People died when they got every single thing they’d ever wanted. Because human beings weren’t designed to get everything. Something needed to be taken away to balance that out.
I’d just have to make sure I went down with as much bullets and blood as I could.
We drove for a while, though I couldn’t say for how long. I didn’t even really take notice of what direction we went; I knew I wasn’t getting out of this, so what was the point in marking landmarks?
I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to give up, but I knew the world. Guys like Fernandez. If I fought, and won—which I could, if the odds were in my favor—then I’d survive. Luke would rejoice. There would be a reunion. Happiness.<
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But then five minutes, five days, five weeks afterward, there would be more blood.
And it wouldn’t be the men, the ones wearing the patches, the ones ready for war. No, it would be those tiny humans with beautiful curls and cheeky smiles.
I thought of Lily’s newborn. That content smile as Asher held her and her baby. Or Mia’s little boys, one who’d tied up his preschool teacher for fun. Ones who brought love and light to Bull’s eyes. The happiness that Bex had seemed to grasp onto, that Lucky had given her despite living through a nightmare I didn’t know if I could’ve survived.
Of those women I may as well be shooting if I tried to fight.
Lizzie told me that I had to fight. Save myself. And she was right. But I already did that.
Luke already did that.
If it was just me and him, I would’ve fought.
To the death.
But my family was bigger than just me and Luke. And I had to shield them. Even if it meant the end of me.
Luke would understand.
We were sitting in a large living room of some half-finished suburban mansion in a housing development that went bankrupt. Who knew why, though the fact that it was in the middle of fucking nowhere probably didn’t help things.
Handy for people planning murder without those pesky witnesses, though.
It was sprawling and we were in the innermost room, the rest of the house crawling with armed men. Wire was right, this guy’s entourage was excessive.
I was pushed down roughly onto a sofa, still covered in plastic. I wondered if that was because the furnishings were too premature or if they’d planned ahead.
Weirdly, I was devoid of fear.
I was full of anger, a lot of it. It pulsated through every part of me like a living thing, urging me to run forward, throat punch one of the men at the door, snatch his weapon and start fighting.
I clenched my fists, willing myself to stay still, remember the people I was saving just by refusing to fight.
Luke’s face popped into my mind.
I wasn’t saving him by giving up.
My decision was damning him to a life of only breathing. Because that’s what I would’ve been doing if I ever lost him. But I had no choice. He would understand.
He would forgive me.
Hopefully.
The door opened and the man from the photograph walked in. He was unassuming, not at all the picture of some sort of cruel evil villain.
Which was always the way. The absolute worst of humankind never looked evil. That was kind of the point.
“Rosie,” he said, his smooth voice only holding a hint of an accent.
I smiled. “Misogynistic, murderous asshole,” I greeted back.
His façade didn’t flicker. “Ah, there’s the spirit I’ve heard so much about.”
He sat next to me on the sofa, bringing with him the scent of an expensive aftershave. I somehow expected him to smell like rot and decay and all of his evil deeds, decomposing on his soul from underneath his skin.
I wanted to shrink away from his proximity, but I stayed strong, jutting my chin out. My knife burned into my leg, begging me to use it, end it all now. But I guessed the man with the sniper rifle at the door wasn’t just there for decoration, and I’d be dead before the knife found its home. Men like this didn’t take risks unless they were sure they could come out alive. It was the way with cockroaches.
“I really don’t want to hear the evil genius speech,” I said instead of stabbing him in the neck. “If you’d just put the bullet in my head, I’d really appreciate it.”
He paused, then chuckled throatily. “You think we brought you here to kill you?”
“Well I sure hope you plan on it, for your sake,” I shot back. “Because you pointed a gun at my four-year-old niece. Came into my brother’s home where his children and his wife sleep. Trudged your filth and evil into a good home. Scared my sister to death when she’s had enough fear in her life.” I paused. “She’ll never forget that. Watching her baby girl almost get snatched from the earth, realizing she couldn’t protect her. You did that. So yeah, I hope you’re planning on killing me. Because if you let me walk out that door, I’ll make it my life’s mission to take down you and every single asshole you care about,” I promised.
He didn’t answer immediately, didn’t look perturbed at all. Just regarded me.
The gaze was cold and uncomfortable. The stare of a being with nothing underneath his skin but a black soul. A true psychopath.
“I don’t doubt you, Rosie. You seem to make quite sure to keep your promises,” he said. “You caused a lot of trouble for me and my business.”
I gaped at him. “Do you want an apology? So sorry, Doctor Evil, for foiling your evil plans to rape and enslave innocent women.” Then I glared. “You’re the most despicable person I’ve ever come into contact with,” I whispered. “I hope when you die, it lasts for months.”
“Well, you’re not the only one who hopes for that, but I’m a stubborn man. I don’t plan on dying just yet,” he said, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “I’m not here to get you to understand my business. Most people have… trouble.”
“Most people have hearts, that’s why, motherfucker.”
He raised his brow. “I came because I have a certain reputation to uphold. If people think they can interrupt my business without retribution, I have troubles, you see?” He sighed. “So retribution is necessary. Your team, they were easy. They didn’t quite have the complications you do.”
I tilted my head. “There should always be complications. Taking human life should never be easy,” I hissed.
He shrugged. “Ah, but it is. You know this. In the right, or wrong, circumstances, it is easy. One of the easiest things on earth. But your family, they are powerful. So your life is not as easy to take. It would cause me more trouble, you see? I’ve had quite enough of trouble.”
“So if you’re not here to kill me, what are you going to do, slap me on the wrist?” I snapped, seriously doubting that was the case. The man had cut a man’s hands off for fucking up his car detailing. True story. Wire showed me.
He looked at me a beat longer, then nodded to one of the men guarding the door, the one without the sniper rifle. He reached into his jacket and passed Fernandez a large brown envelope. He dumped the contents of the envelope and started laying photographs on the chipped coffee table in front of us.
My eyes were glued to the photos as soon as they landed on the wood. And they kept coming.
Mia chasing after Rocko, who was holding some kind of lit firework.
Cade in his bedroom, throwing a laughing Isabella into the air.
Amy and Brock holding hands as she scowled at him and he grinned wide at her.
Bex walking out of an NA meeting, Lucky bringing her into his arms.
Luke walking down the street, on the phone, grinning.
Evie sitting on the porch of her and Steg’s house, smoking.
Ranger and Lizzie cheering on their kids at a soccer game.
And it went on.
“Your family is very large,” Fernandez said pleasantly. “And very unique. Loyal. Strong, a lot of them.” He tapped an image of Cade, watching Gwen from a distance. Then on Luke’s photo again. He moved the photo so it focused on Belle, running after her baby brother in their backyard. “And also very vulnerable.”
“Don’t you say another word if you want to keep breathing,” I hissed, my voice small.
“I want to keep breathing very much,” he said calmly. “I want everyone in your unique family to keep breathing. Which is why I’m here, having this chat with you.”
“You’re calling threatening babies a chat?” I hissed. “You really are a piece of shit.”
“I’m not asking for your acceptance of my character, just your understanding of the situation.” He stood up, straightening his jacket. “I’ll leave you some time to think. You are my guest here, which means you will not be harmed.” He looked to his guards. “
In any way. And I will be back. Soon.”
And then he was gone. I was left with all the photos of the people who made up my world, and the unsaid threat by a man promising to destroy that world.
Cade
Cade was frustrated.
They were getting nowhere on this Fernandez motherfucker.
Scratch that, they were getting a lot. A lot of things that made even Cade’s stomach turn. A lot of things that haunted him, even after he’d put his children to bed, fucked his beautiful wife and she fell asleep in his arms.
Warm.
Breathing.
Her heart beating against his own.
But he lay awake for hours afterward, staring at Gwen’s chest rising and falling, holding onto her. He lay awake and thought of that shit they’d found. The fucking atrocities. And he thought about Rosie being tangled up in that shit.
It scared him. She always scared him. The girl had no fear. She leaped, didn’t look, didn’t fucking think. Her courage wowed him. Her strength.
And she’d gone through shit the previous year and had done it without him. No matter what she said, he’d failed her. Because she’d been there every fucking step of the way when shit got rocky in his life. Got dark. When he thought he might lose Gwen. The baby. Rosie was there. The months he was without Gwen. Rosie was there. His wedding. His children’s births. And every time after that. She was always there.
And he wasn’t fucking there when she’d needed her big fucking brother.
The cop was.
Not a cop now, he guessed. But he’d always be a cop.
Cade would never like him. Too much shit went down for that to happen. But he fucking respected the shit out of the man. For what he did for Rosie. For standing by her. And he hadn’t blanched at the various laws they’d broken in the process of trying to get Fernandez.
Cade was still uneasy about it, about showing Luke that shit. He may have been off the force, but he was still an outsider. But he made Rosie smile. Really fucking smile. And Cade would put all his shit aside for someone who made his little sister smile like that.