by Jordan Marie
“Good plan, mi cielo,” he says, but his hand comes to my neck and he pulls away just a fraction to look into my eyes. “I have to go, esposa.”
“I know. I’m just going to miss you.”
“I feel the same. Te amo, sweet Beth.”
“Te amo,” I whisper before his mouth comes to mine. This kiss isn’t like one we’ve shared, at least in a long time. This one is sweet, gentle, and almost delicate. It makes me feel cherished.
When he pulls away, it physically hurts, and I do my best to beat down the panic that swamps me. It’s not logical, but I honestly don’t want to be away from him. I’m scared I’m going to lose him. I might be listening to Latch’s advice, but that doesn’t stop the fear. I think Skull sees it, or maybe he can sense it. I’m not sure. He looks like he’s about to say something when there’s a heavy banging on the door.
“Boss? You alive in there? We’re late.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles. “I got to go, querida.”
“Go. I’ll be here waiting, but please be safe.”
“Always. I have too much to lose now,” he says, kissing my forehead, then he pulls out of my arms. He reaches behind him and gets the t-shirt he had on yesterday and pulls it over my head. He fishes my locket out and lets it fall on top of the shirt between my breasts. I raise my eyebrow at him. “When I open that fucking door, Torch will do his best to look in here and the fucker is not seeing any of what is mine.”
“Yes sir, Captain Caveman.” I smile, wrapping my arms around my waist and mentally trying to ignore the desperation inside of me that makes me want to beg him to stay and not leave me.
“Damn straight, woman,” he agrees, turning away from me. A thought comes to me, and I can’t let him go without trying to warn him.
“Is Pistol going with you?” I ask, and when I see the questions flare in his eyes, I bite my lip.
It’s wrong, but I can’t tell him about my father. Not right now. If he knows, will that be the thing that makes him push me away forever? Or will he attack Roger… Redmond… and get himself killed?
“Si. Why do you ask, querida?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t trust him. Will you be extra careful around him?” That’s the best I can do to warn him without giving him the full truth. I feel like all I do is lie anymore.
He studies me for a moment. Finally, he says, “Always. We’ll talk this evening, mi cielo.”
Did I give too much away? He turns and opens the door to leave. I stand there watching because I can’t make myself look away.
“Fucking hell, boss. I thought you got lost.”
“Screw you. I was giving my wife a proper goodbye.”
“Your wife?” Torch says.
“Si. My wife. Let’s make sure you don’t forget that, fucker,” Skull grumbles before their voices completely disappear down the hall. My hand goes to the locket. I hold onto it. I just keep holding it.
That’s exactly what I’m doing when my cellphone that Skull gave me rings. Thinking he’s calling to tell me he misses me, I run to answer it like the crazy school girl I am and sometimes forget.
“Elizabeth, you are not here,” my father’s voice tells me at my giggled hello. And just like that, I’m no longer happy. I’m not even warm. I feel cold all the way through.
“How did you get this number?”
“That’s a stupid question,” he says, and it is. He could probably get it a million different ways, but I’m sure it was from Pistol.
“I’m hanging up now,” I tell him. My hands and voice shake, and fear flows through my system where only moments before there was hope.
“You were supposed to meet with me today.”
“I’m not coming. Skull and I were married last night. I’m going to have faith in my husband,” I tell him defiantly.
“Funny, I was told you said no.”
Acid churns in my stomach. My hand holds tight to the locket.
“Then your spies don’t obviously know everything,” I lie.
“I think they do. You turned Skull down because you know in your heart that you are going to give him up. Your decision is already made. You’re just having trouble coming to terms with it. Stop fighting it, sunshine. Let me save you. Let me save all of us.”
I hate him. I fucking hate him.
“Goodbye, father.”
“You’ll regret this, Beth. What’s about to happen is beyond my control. It could have been avoided if you had listened though. I’m sorry, sunshine. I really did try.”
Something in his voice terrifies me. That isn’t hard, considering how panicked I already am.
“Wait! What’s about to—?”
The call drops. Silence is the only answer I get.
“You’re late, ese.”
“It happens,” I tell Diesel. We’re sitting across from each other in a little diner just at the Tennessee state line. Diesel picked the place. I don’t really get it. Then again, I’m not much for truck-stop food.
“Any news?” he asks. Beside him is his second-in-command. He’s an okay dude, nothing special, but he and Diesel seem to get along well. He’s quiet. Too quiet for my tastes, but then again I’m used to Torch’s constant fucking chatter.
“Not since the attacks. It’s been nothing but radio silence,” I tell him.
Beside me is Sabre. Torch is out with the others keeping watch on the perimeter. I gave the job to Pistol, but I don’t trust that motherfucker, even with him swallowing his pride down and getting with the program.
Also, something about Beth’s question today doesn’t sit right with me. There has to be more to what she asked. I saw something flash in her eyes. I’m going to have to quiz my lovely esposa. My dick pushes against my pants at the thought. Who knew having a woman you want to put a ring on would make your dick so fucking hard? Then again, everything about Beth does that to me.
“We’ve been picking up more chatter about Redmond Donahue. Supposedly, he’s been spotted just on the outskirts of your town,” Diesel said. “Bell, give Skull the file,” he says to his second-in-command.
I open the folder. There’s a picture of a man standing by a limo in a perfect three-piece suit. He stands there looking straight at the camera that snapped the picture, like he knows they’re there.
I study his face. He’s Edmund’s brother, but they look nothing alike. There’s nothing similar about them, except maybe the coldness in their eyes. Something about Redmond hits me. Something about him seems familiar. His facial features, maybe… or the way he holds himself.
I shrug it off, closing the file to look at it more later. “Thanks. It doesn’t matter, though. The plan stays the same,” I tell Diesel. “I just need to know if you’re in with me. I know it’s a lot to ask.”
“Fuck that shit. The day I back down from a fight, they can throw my ass in a hole six feet down and cover me up.”
“It’s not your fight, hermano.”
“You mean you wouldn’t have my back if the roles were reversed?” Diesel asks, looking away to acknowledge the waitress who comes to our table.
“What can I get you boys?” she asks.
She’s pretty. Before Beth, I would have been tempted to talk to her. She has dark hair, the color of a raven. Her face is almost too sweet for the circles she carries under those deep brown eyes. She does nothing for me, but when I look over and see the way Diesel is drinking her in, I’m starting to understand why he picked this shithole to meet in. She does pack some serious dynamite for her small frame. In fact, the faded pink t-shirt she wears is stretched so tight over her chest, you figure her tits can burst out at any minute. I’d estimate Double-D’s, easily. Diesel always was a breast man. I guess some things never change.
“Just coffee, bonita,” I tell her.
“Same here,” Bell and Sabre join in.
“And you?” she asks Diesel, looking bored and obviously ignoring his not-so-subtle looks.
“I’d rather have you than coffee,” he says, and I want to roll my
eyes. The motherfucker is usually so easy with the ladies, but that’s one dumbass pick-up line.
“Coffee, it is,” she says, not responding even a little to Diesel, then walks away.
The table erupts in laughter. Diesel just strains to look around the side as the waitress walks away.
“I don’t think she’s buying what you have to sell, amigo.”
“She just hasn’t seen me unleash the whole package yet, Skull, my brother. Just wait. She’ll fall. They all do eventually.”
“That’s how you got your son, if I remember correctly.”
His face loses that easygoing attitude. Apparently, there’s more to that story than I thought.
“That was a mistake,” mutters Diesel, “though I have Ryan. So I don’t regret it. His mother, though? Pure bitch.”
“Ever hear from her?”
“Only when she wants money. I don’t think she’s seen Ryan more than twice since he was born.”
“Fuck,” Sabre says, his voice full of disgust.
“It doesn’t matter. Ryan is worth everything to me. You will see. You too, Skull. Don’t tell me you aren’t trying to knock up Beth every chance you get.”
I flip him off with a grin, not bothering to deny it.
The waitress comes back and puts our coffees down, again ignoring Diesel. I can’t help but laugh. Diesel looks at me and shrugs it off. “Fuck you, Skull.”
We’re just about to dive into the particulars when gunfire breaks out. Outside the window, I see my men with Diesel’s pulling out their weapons and running for cover. The window shatters as a bullet drives through it and hits perilously close to our seats.
“Motherfucker!” Diesel yells out, and my grunt can’t be heard, but it’s right there with him.
We all move away from the booth and grab our weapons, but not before more bullets shower in. I feel a sting hit my shoulder and I know I’ve taken a hit. I glance down at it and notice it’s a through-and-through, which is good. I’ve had a sawbones dig around inside of me for a fucking bullet before and that’s not something I’d like to revisit.
I hear a loud grunt of pain, then clanging of the metal table. My attention jerks up to see Bell’s taken a hit. He’s not as lucky as I am. Blood blooms from his chest, the crimson color overtaking the pale gray t-shirt he’s wearing.
I help Diesel drag him to the ground. Sabre is in position and fires back. The few occupants in the diner are screaming and crying, hiding under their tables. The waitress that Diesel has his eye on is huddled to the side of the bar looking panicked. We drag Bell over to her. Diesel grabs her apron roughly, ripping it from her body. She screams. He ignores it.
“Hold this to his chest to stop the bleeding,” he commands. “Do you have a fucking cellphone?”
“W-What? Yes,” she answers, instantly pressing the wadded fabric to Bell’s chest.
“Call 9-1-1. Tell the dispatcher to tell a Detective Grady that Diesel said he’s going to want to be here.”
“What? Why wouldn’t—”
“Just fucking do it!” Diesel yells as a bullet wizzes by his head and he pulls away from the woman and his buddy.
I’m shooting now too, but we’re basically shooting blind because I can’t tell where the fucking bullets are coming from. There are a few close up, but the ones hitting in here are snipers.
Sirens ring in the distance. I doubt it has anything to do with the waitress’s call; there’s not been enough time. I watch as I see two more of my men fall down. I scream. I can’t tell who they are—there’s just dust and chaos out there. I see their jackets as they fall. I’m going to kill the fucking Donahues. There’s not a doubt in my mind that this is their doing. This is their strike back. Fuck. I should have had more men watching the mountains. This is on me. Why didn’t I even think about snipers?
Fucking hell.
I rake my hand down the side of my face. Carnage. It’s everywhere. There’s no other word for it. Fifteen dead in total. Three of my own. Prospects with the exception of K-Rex. He was a good man. A man who had barely begun to live… and he’s gone. Diesel lost his Vice President Bell and five other men. I feel the weight of their deaths, too. The rest of the casualties were civilians. Innocent bystanders who walked into the diner for lunch and will never leave. Their blood is on my hands, too.
“Boss?” Torch asks, worried. I pull my eyes away from the county coroners and paramedics who are covering bodies with sheets while the cops interview witnesses.
“Yeah?” I ask, my voice hoarse. I’m feeling fucking old.
“You going to let them look at your arm?”
I glance at my shoulder, the white cloth tied around it soaked in blood. I had forgotten it. It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing compared to what my men took, compared to the lives lost.
“Nah. I’ll get our man to stitch it up when we get back home,” I tell him, clearing my throat. My eyes can’t stop going back to all of the chaos in front of me.
“We’re coming with you,” Diesel growls. I turn to look at him. I can see the fury in him. He’s normally easygoing, reminding me more of Torch. Now he looks ready to kill everyone in his sight.
“I think this war has cost you enough, brother. I didn’t mean for—”
“Fuck that shit. You know what it means when we go to war. We live this fucking life for a reason. We’re the men our forefathers envisioned for this country. Not the watered-down bureaucrats who run it now.”
“I should have thought about snipers. This is on me. The Donahue’s calling card has always been ‘go big’. I had our men monitoring for bombs and toxins. Jesus.”
“Colin’s calling card is bombs, ese. This Redmond is different. All bets are off.”
“We’re going to need more intel on him, Torch,” I order, feeling old and tired. I want blood as much as Diesel does. I’m fucking wondering how many are going to die before we’re done here. “You sure about this, hermano?” I ask Diesel.
“We’re at war and we band together. I’m going to need a couple of hours to see to my men and have their bodies sent home.”
“Same here. You got a cage Pistol and Keys can use for transport?”
“Yeah. Got you covered. My connection with the state police and the sheriff’s office are running interference, too. You should be good to go.”
“I’m not sure it’s going to be easy to get the bodies right now, Skull. No matter what Diesel says. Besides, he was the one who picked this damn place. Perimeters should have been more secure,” Pistol says.
“Make it easy. Grease the wheels, use your charm if you have any, or fucking guns. I don’t care, I just want my men home.” My hand goes to Diesel to hold him back. He growls at Pistol, shooting him a look that could kill.
“Got it,” says Pistol, looking at Diesel, but not adding fuel to the flame right now.
“Okay, we’ll meet up at Pigeon River in two hours. Everyone have their shit together and be ready to move out. Torch, Sabre, and Briar, you’re with me.”
“Where’re we going, boss?” Briar asks.
“We’re gonna see if we can figure out where the snipers went. If we can capture one of them, that might be useful.”
“We’ve been looking for the last hour, Skull,” Pistol says. I’m really getting tired of the bastard. If I didn’t need Cade’s men right now…
“Then it won’t hurt for us to look some more. Didn’t I give you a job to do?” I ask over my shoulder, already walking off. I hear him grunt and take that as acceptance.
Diesel slaps me on the shoulder, which jars my fucking arm and hurts like hell, but I ignore it. “Your man needs to be taught who is in charge.”
“I’ve taught him. He’s just too fucking thick to remember.”
“Cut off his testicles. That’s not so easy for a man to forget.”
My hand rubs my sack in reflex.
“I’ll keep that in mind. For now he stands though, I need his brother’s firepower. See you in a couple hours, hermano.”
&nbs
p; “See you then,” he says, slapping my back again before walking in the opposite direction.
I hop on my bike and take off, my men following me. I need to get this shit done and get back to Beth. I’ve got to keep her safe. This attack was different from anything the Donahues have done before. I have to tighten the circle around her even more… and soon.
Skull’s late. Dinner was hours ago and it’s dark outside now. I asked Latch if he had heard from them. He got this strange look on his face which worried me, but all he said was that they’d run into some trouble. He swore to me Skull was fine, but it feels like he’s keeping something from me. My phone rang three other times today. It was my father each time, and each time I hit the button to decline the call. I can’t talk to him. I have to keep holding on to hope.
It’s all I have.
I spent all day cleaning the compound like a crazy person. The muffler bunnies were giving me the evil eye, and the men were all looking at me like I’d lost my mind. I have. Until I know if Skull can end this war and contain my father, I’m going to be certifiable.
“You’re looking better these days, Beth,” Latch says.
I’m organizing the back of the bar while Latch sits on a stool in front of me nursing a beer. I blow out a large puff of air because if Latch knew what a mess I was inside, he probably wouldn’t say that.
“I’m trying to have faith,” I tell him.
“Good to know,” he says, taking a drink.
“Tell me about your sister.” I need something to take my mind off of things.
“How do you know about Lucy?”
“I heard some of the girls mention that you help take care of your sister. They think that means you’re sweet and caring.”
“You know better?”
“I think you probably care about your sister, but the fact that you step up to the plate to help her doesn’t make you sweet.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yep. I think it just means you use that to get into women’s pants.”