Club Scars

by Mara McBain

  “If you want it before then I will see what I can do.”

  She shook her head. “Nah. Spring’s coming. We won’t use it in the summer.”

  Crux nodded and moved over to sink down on the couch. “Is he warm enough down there? I just thought he might want to stretch out.”

  “Oh. He’s plenty warm,” she said, a light blush coloring her cheeks. “I’m just being an overprotective mommy.”

  “You’re a new mommy.”

  “You’d think it would let up with experience, but I don’t think Gin’s any less protective of hers, all grown up.”

  Crux’s phone beeped. Checking the text, he grimaced.

  “Reaper’s on his way over. It shouldn’t take long and the food will be here in about twenty minutes.”

  “Should I call and order extra?”

  “Nah. Like I said, this shouldn’t take long. Check out the guide and see if there’s a movie you want to watch.”

  He could see the questions running through her mind, but she caught the remote he tossed to her and nodded. Crux let out the breath he’d been holding. She was doing good and he wanted it to stay that way. Staying busy seemed to help so going back to work today had been a blessing. It kept her mind off shit and she wasn’t alone. He didn’t want her alone any more than necessary until this shit was cleared up.

  Crux jumped up to sit on the workbench in the garage and looked at his brother expectantly. Lighting up a cigarette, Reaper took a long drag and propped a boot on a stack of tires.

  “Tech did some poking around. It’s fucking amazing what you can find out on the internet,” he said, shaking his head and taking another drag. “He went through permits, building plans, satellite images and all kinds of Tech bullshit. We have the floor plans, general layout of the grounds and even what type of security system the rich prick has.”

  “Am I the only one that finds it scary that people can find that shit out?”

  “That’s why my house is protected by a crazy ass Doberman and an arsenal of unregistered firearms. You’re in for a surprise if you come through my door uninvited,” Reaper said with a deranged grin. “You should get a dog.”

  “What’s that pinhead dog going to do that a gun can’t?”

  “He’s a good warning system and you know that crazy bastard will go right at your throat. If nothing else an intruder has to fuck with him first and it gives you more time to get to a gun. Besides, Lee loves him.”

  “Lee has a thing for crazy,” Crux muttered.

  Reaper flicked ashes at him. Brushing a few glowing embers from the leg of his Levi’s, Crux mulled over what they had.

  “The plans and shit are good to have, but obviously it would still be easier to snipe him from a distance so you don’t have to hassle with cameras and shit,” Reaper said.

  “So you’re thinking of taking him at the house?” he asked.

  “Tech’s going to see if he can establish any kind of schedule or patterns for the guy, and then I’ll scope vantage points if we think we can get him at home. It’s going to depend on how paranoid he is.”

  “And if not at home?”

  “Then the next best would be to see if I could get him on the road. The good thing is the fucker’s mansion is pretty isolated. If I knew a schedule and route I could set up on one of the back roads. What I don’t want is to have to go into the city. There are too many cameras and potential witnesses.”

  “That makes sense but, a moving target makes things more difficult.”

  “Nothing I haven’t done before. Besides, I like a challenge,” Reaper said, the grin and glint in his eyes back.

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “Fuck yeah. I’ve got no love for kiddie rapists. I’ll enjoy watching the sick fuck’s head explode.”

  “Thanks, brother.”

  “No sweat.”

  Shutting off the lights in the garage they walked out to the Jeep. Reaper hesitated as he dug his keys out. He tossed the keys in his hand, obviously thinking something over. Crux frowned and waited. Reaper didn’t look up when he spoke.

  “We’re not married, but if I screw the pooch on this and end up inside, take care of Lee.”

  “Ring or not, everyone knows Lee is your old lady. Not only would the club take care of her, but I promise you, brother, I would look after her.”

  Reaper nodded, spinning his key ring around his finger. “I’ve never had anyone I gave a shit about. Lee’s different,” he said with a little shrug.

  “You have my word.”

  Reaper’s wicked chuckle broke the serious moment. “I better not fuck it up. I’m not sure you’re up to keeping both Kat and Lee satisfied. I’ve created a monster with that one.”

  “I think that would be best for all involved. I don’t relish the thought of explaining another woman in our bed, sister or not.”

  They both turned and humor fell away as a car slowed in the street. Crux relaxed recognizing the rusty Ford Festiva that Curly’s delivery kid drove.

  “It’s just dinner. I guess going back to work wiped my old lady out today so wings and steak fries it is.”

  Reaper glanced at his watch. “I better get going. Lee had dinner in the oven when I left,” he said, catching Crux’s hand and smacking him on the shoulder. “Later, brother.”

  “Later. And thanks again.” Crux said returning the slap on the back. He couldn’t help grinning to himself. The Reaper hurrying home to the little woman, his brother was slowly becoming domesticated.

  Strolling down the drive, he shoved a hand in his pocket and groaned. His cash was upstairs on the dresser.

  “Hey, man. Let me grab my wallet,” he called to the kid. Turning the door knob he found the front door locked. He sighed. She’d probably locked the back door behind him. Lately he couldn’t fault her on following orders. He rapped on the door. “The food’s here, babe. Grab me some cash.”

  He frowned when she opened the door a crack, hiding behind it as she thrust a handful of bills out at him. Cam’s cranky whimper and the mumble of Kat’s comforting voice wiped the frown away. It was feeding time. Shaking his head, Crux turned to the delivery driver and peeled off a couple bills.

  “Thanks. Keep the change.”

  Crux watched the kid trot back to his car and glanced up and down the street. An uneasy feeling crawled up the back of his neck. His eyes narrowed, probing the shadows for anything out of the norm. Seeing nothing, he finally backed into the house and kicked the door shut behind him. He backtracked after a couple of steps and juggled the food while he secured the locks again. It was best not to take any chances for now. Life would be back to normal soon enough.

  Nineteen

  “If you had dealt with this situation properly when it first occurred you wouldn’t be scrambling now.”

  John ground his teeth, struggling to keep his face impassive. Nothing flayed his temper like the insufferable arrogance of his older brother. He stayed silent as Connor strolled across the office with all the confidence and pomp of a general. The bastard reminded him so much of their father.

  “Trying to bribe the twit was a show of weakness. If money was the girl’s weak spot she wouldn’t have shacked up with a poor mechanic.”

  “In your infinite wisdom what would you deem her weakness?”

  Connor gave him a long look over the top of his glass. John held the cold stare for as long as he could but finally dropped his gaze. He cursed under his breath. The soulless bastard gave him the chills.

  “Katrina’s weakness is her heart, as with most women.”

  “I loved Katrina. We were so close and then she turned on me. She betrayed me.”

  “In her eyes you took away the one person that loved her unconditionally. It’s the curse of mothers. They ruin it for the rest of us. Unconditional love isn’t logical. In a world where we are struggling to teach spoiled children that the world doesn’t owe them and that they’re not going to get something for nothing, that’s exactly what mothers give them. Fathers on t
he other hand demand respect and expect their offspring to live up to standards.”

  “When did you become such an expert on childrearing?”

  “Sneer all you like, little brother. At least it is confirmed that I’ve fathered a child, and a son at that.”

  “Katrina is my child,” John hissed.

  “So Kassandra wished you to believe,” Connor said, a look of mock pity in his pale gaze. “Katrina’s strength makes me believe that either the old man or I planted that one. You certainly haven’t exhibited much of a green thumb since, despite frequent attempts.”

  “Did your visit have a purpose or did you just stop by to rehash the past and open old wounds?”

  “Going at Katrina like you have been is only going to serve to make her more stubborn and defiant. The girl has an innate desire to please a man. Croston has obviously tapped into that. She will do anything for him. I’ve already explained your mistake in offering her money. It gets worse from there. You should’ve made sure of the outcome when you initiated the drug search. Where drugs around her child might’ve made Katrina rethink her loyalty, his innocence in the face of persecution only made her dig in deeper. That was just sloppy and showed a distinct lack of foresight on your part. I don’t know what you hoped to accomplish with theft and vandalism when they are insured. If anything your genius plan improved her living conditions.”

  John rubbed at his temple. He could feel the vein throbbing in his forehead and for one beautiful moment he pictured pulling the hidden revolver from under the desk and putting a bullet between Connor’s eyes. The vision eased the pounding in his head. He chose his next words carefully, keeping his tone glib.

  “You’re remarkably well informed. Do you have a stake in this that I’m unaware of, or do you just garner some perverted pleasure out of pointing out my perceived shortcomings?”

  “You really need to grow a little thicker skin,” Connor said with a chiding shake of his head. “You’ve never accepted constructive criticism gracefully.”

  “Perhaps it’s because your criticism tends to be more condescending than constructive,” John said through clenched teeth.

  “If you had listened to me twenty years ago, Kassandra and Katrina would still be with us.”

  “What did I say about rehashing the past and old wounds? Leave it alone, Connor.”

  “Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

  “Thank you, Churchill. Now why are you here?”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures, little brother. Whether she is your blood or not, Katrina is a Merrick and this disgrace has gone on long enough.”

  Twenty

  Finger combing hair out of her face, Kat yawned and tossed the blankets up in a half-ass effort to make the bed. She stubbed her toe on the bed’s caster and cursed under her breath. Hopping on one foot, her full bladder throbbed in protest. She gave up and hobbled for the bathroom. Her bare feet hit the icy hardwood floor and she gasped. The sudden temperature shift made her press her thighs together desperately and scurry faster. Wiggling down her pajamas she gritted her teeth at the cold toilet seat but sighed in relief.

  Yanking up her pajamas, she washed her hands before heading back to the bedroom for socks, trying to rub some warmth into the back of her thighs. When was winter going to let up? Pulling on a pair of fuzzy slipper socks she picked up the baby monitor and went to check on her son. An icy draft swirled around her ankles as she stepped across the hall. She frowned wondering if the furnace had gone out.

  The nursery door was closed. That wasn’t normal. Her hand wrapped around the door handle and the chill seemed to seep into her bones. Opening the door, her heart stopped. The black and orange Harley Davidson curtains billowed into the room. The open window gaped accusingly. Her head whipped around. The crib was empty. A scream broke her lips, her breath crystallizing in the air as her knees hit the floor.

  Panic clawed at her as she tried to force herself to her feet. Stumbling, she scrabbled on hands and knees to the bedroom. Her hands shook violently as she fumbled with her phone. It fell, skittering under the edge of the bed. A sob wracked her body as she groped desperately. Grabbing it up she stabbed at the screen and held her breath. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow and she wanted to scream.

  “911…What is your emergency?”

  “My son’s gone! They cut the window and my baby’s gone.”

  “How old is your son, ma’am?”

  “He’s only two months old,” Kat sobbed. “Jesus. Please find him. I’ll do anything.”

  The operator rattled off the address and she confirmed it without thinking. She rocked on her knees, clutching her aching chest. It literally felt like someone had ripped her heart out. She couldn’t breathe.

  “What’s your name, honey?”

  “K–Kat. My son’s name is Cam, Camden. Please hurry. I need to call my husband,” she stuttered.

  “Police are on their way. Where is your husband right now, Kat?”

  “He—he’s at work. Crux, Tommy, Tommy Croston. Sorry. Everyone calls him Crux. He works at Handlebars and Hotrods.”

  “It’s okay, Kat. We’re sending an officer to pick him up. Can you hear the sirens yet?”

  Kat closed her eyes and listened. She could hear the thin wail in the distance. “Yeah. I can hear them,” she choked out, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her cheeks. “I need Crux.”

  “An officer has been dispatched to pick him up, Kat. Hang in here with me,” the operator said smoothly. “Where are you at in the house right now?”

  “In the master bedroom.”

  “Is that on the main floor?”

  “No.”

  “Kat, I need you to go downstairs and let the officers in. Can you do that?”

  Kat nodded and scrambled for the stairs on shaky knees.

  “Kat? Are you still with me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you go downstairs and let the officers in?”

  “I – I’m go – shit!” Kat yelped as her socks slipped and she skidded down the polished hardwood steps. She curled at the bottom, still clutching her phone and rocking through the pain.

  “Kat?...Kat?...Are you okay, Kat?”

  “I’m fi—fine. I just fell down the stairs,” she sobbed.

  “Do you need medical assistance?”

  “No! I just need Crux and I need my baby!” she screamed.

  “Officers are on their way to pick up your husband and we’re going to do everything we can to get Cam back, Kat. I just need you to hang in here with me. Listen for the sirens. They should be getting closer.”

  “He took him,” she whispered in horror. Reality tumbled down on her like an avalanche, threatening to crush her. “No, no, no, no!” she cried desperately. “I won’t let him hurt my son!”

  “Who took your son, Kat?” the operator asked.

  “My father. My fucking father. He’s a monster. You have to get Cam back. You don’t understand the things he will do.”

  “Police!”

  Kat’s head jerked up at the knock and authoritative bark at the door. Scrambling to her feet she ran for the door. She almost ripped the chain from the wall as she forgot to unlatch it. She screamed in frustration, nearly slamming the officer’s hand in the door in a bid to shut it to slip the chain free.

  “It was my father. John Merrick. He took Cam. You have to get him back. Please! He’s a monster!”

  The officer gently pried her hands from the front of his shirt, pressing them between his and looking her in the eye.

  “Look at me. I know you’re upset Mrs. Croston, but I need you to tell me what happened so we can find your son. You told the operator that they cut a window. Can you show us that?”

  Kat spun and slipped on the hardwood floor. Cursing, she yanked the damn slipper socks off and flung them toward the living room. Her hands hit the steps in front of her as she scrambled up the stairs. She stopped in the nursery and stared helplessly at the billowing curtai
ns. She rubbed at her arms. The chill seeped into her bones. Stepping past her, the officers brushed the fabric aside to examine the window. The glass had been cut to allow the intruder to reach in and unlock the window. Their words seemed to come to her through a thick fog. How the hell had this happened? The one place she had thought him safe. She looked around the nursery. Other than the window not a thing was out of place. It was waking nightmare, the story of her life. She closed her eyes and prayed with everything she had. When she opened them again the officers were still looking at the window. The dream catcher thumped against the glass. It hadn’t been able to trap this monster. She ground her teeth.

  “You’re wasting time. John Merrick, or one of his minions, took my son.”

  “Why would you think your father would kidnap your son, Mrs. Croston?”

  “He came to the hospital,” Kat said shakily. “I hadn’t seen him in fifteen years and he showed up at the hospital spouting bullshit about me finally doing something worthwhile and Camden being his heir. The sick fuck’s delusional. I don’t want him anywhere near my son. You don’t know the things he’s capable of,” she whispered, fisting her hands in her hair. “He sent his minion to try to bribe me and then bully me into letting him see Cam. I don’t want anything from him. I just want my son back.”

  “When did this happen?”

  Kat spun at the voice behind her.

  Marchand’s hard stare was accusing.

  “When did your father’s employee threaten you?” he demanded.

  “Maybe four weeks ago. He showed up and gave me a check and a letter from my father. He was babbling about family and parental love and how my father wanted to be a part of my and Cam’s life. He obviously has no clue what kind of animal he works for if he believes any of that. When I didn’t cash the check the guy came back. He told me Daddy Dearest wasn’t going to give up; said we could do this the easy way or the hard way. Like there is any easy way with my father or his sadistic family,” she spat in disgust.

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this when I investigated the break in?”