Haunt (Bayonet Scars #6)

by Jc Emery

  “Every ounce and every breath,” I say, abandoning her pussy and anchoring myself with my elbows beside her head. I take her hands in mine, holding her in place. With all the focus I can manage without losing my rhythm, I get the ring out of my palm and slide it over her left ring finger. She explodes around my cock as her hands grab onto my fists.

  “Yes,” she moans. Her eyes are closed, and part of me isn’t totally sure if she’s agreeing to marry me or if my cock is just that good. But then she mumbles, “Finally,” and comes down from her high with her body shaking slightly.

  “You haven’t even seen the ring yet,” I say, a chuckle creeping up from my throat.

  “It’s just jewelry, baby,” she says, opening her eyes and smiling at me. I let go of her hands, and she reaches out, wrapping them around my neck. Her eyes are focused, but I don’t miss how they subtly slide over to her left hand to check out the diamond Mishy picked out. My woman’s smile breaks out into a grin. “I think you might have just earned yourself baby number four.”

  “Fuck yes, I have.” A thrill runs through me, knowing that even if we do end up all fucked-up, we still have our family, and that will always make everything okay.

  CHAPTER 24

  My hands shake as I wrap them tighter around my man’s solid frame. My right hand clutching my .22 caliber underneath the leather of his cut. Wyatt didn’t like it, insisting that the pieces strapped to my body were enough, but I wouldn’t have it. Anyone tries to take a shot while we’re en route, I want to be ready. The five seconds it’ll take to get to my other guns could be the difference between life and death. And I meant what I said when I told my man that nothing and nobody is going to stop me from bringing him back to our kids alive.

  The cool April wind blows around us, my man’s Harley roaring as we fly down the highway to the meet. There’s some kind of vulnerability with rolling up in such a powerful machine, so exposed to the elements. Despite the helmets on our heads and the Kevlar over our hearts, we’re like sitting ducks. Well-armed ducks that are ready to shed blood for what we believe in, but ducks nonetheless. I was so focused on the fact that the boys gave in to letting us come that I never thought to ask where we would be meeting Mancuso for the exchange. It’s not really an exchange, though. Alex may share Carlo’s last name, but she’s one of us now. And Forsaken doesn’t sacrifice family. Not ever.

  Wyatt pulls the bike off the highway and leads us through a commercial area that gives way to abandoned commercial projects and to a dilapidated field. Shielded by two empty and decaying apartment buildings, we come to a stop. Everyone moves around quickly, fixing shit and adjusting themselves on their bikes. From the corner of my eye, I see Mindy on the back of Ian’s bike. She slides a small Swiss Army knife into the crushed bun atop her head and then puts her helmet back on. The knife itself isn’t big enough to kill, but it’ll maim enough to save her life if it comes down to it. Ruby does the same. Alex hops off Ryan’s bike and rushes over to the van where she retrieves a black drawstring bag. It looks like one of those things new sheet sets come in. She says something to Ryan to which he nods, and before she can run back to the van, dressed in all black from head to toe, he pulls her to him and kisses her like it’s the last time he’s ever going to be able to do so. I turn away, not liking the thought that comes to mind.

  It might be.

  No. We can’t let it. We haven’t suffered for this long, gone through this much to let her die now. I won’t allow it. When she returns, she’s in something I assume her father will deem more appropriate. Blue jeans, a soft pink sweater, and flat feminine boots make up the new outfit. God only knows how she managed it that quick, but she did. She’s even already got her helmet on. When Alex climbs onto the back of Ryan’s bike, she’s awkward and distant. They gripe at each other for a minute as if their sweet parting never happened. And then Ryan starts up his bike and rides in large circles around us. Wyatt gets us going again, but right before we take off, out of the corner of my eye, I spot Mishy rushing out of the van and hopping on the back of Diesel’s bike. Shit. Elle is going to have a fucking field day with this. That man fucking knows better than to taunt his woman by letting my sister ride bitch.

  As Road Captain, Diesel revs his bike and rides past us, not stopping until he’s a decent distance away. Grady and Wyatt pull up behind Diesel, taking their positions as VP and President. It isn’t until we’re right behind Diesel’s bike that I realize what’s happening. I pull my man close and smile to myself. This isn’t our usual formation, but it’s smart. I looks around, wondering whose idea this was.

  Behind us, Jim pulls up, just off to the side, Ryan comes up center, and Ian brings his bike up on Ryan’s other side. Mancuso is bound to know about Ryan and Alex’s relationship, so this is good. We’re guarding her until the exchange. The van rolls up behind Ryan, and the rest of the guys move into position, covering the van as well. Michael and Leo are inside where Mishy was. She decided to come at the last minute. With Dad watching Zander and Piper, she reasoned he could watch Xavier, too. I just hope the old man has what little of his sanity is left when we get home.

  The bikes all roar to life, the brothers revving their engines in a show of solidarity, a battle cry even. Diesel raises his pointer finger in the air, points at the sky, swivels his wrist around twice, and then points forward. We take off like a shot, at high speeds, all careful of one another, aiming not to get too close but still remain close enough. We’re like a pack, refusing to be separated, refusing to be seen as anything other than one. We ride for at least ten minutes, most of which I spend calming myself down. I need to be on point so that my family—all of my family—makes it out of this whole. I think about everything that’s happened the last few months. I remember the first time Zander saw his father and the moment when Wyatt realized Piper is his.

  I think about the first night we spent in our house and how my man gave himself to me, so fully, without fear of rejection, that it brought me to tears. I think about the ring on my finger and the joy in my heart. I focus on everything that’s good and right in my life. I remember Ian’s wedding and the vows he and Mindy spoke to each other. They were beautiful and honest. It was so intimate that I almost had to look away. Baring their hearts to one another in front of all of us was moving to say the least. I let myself fondly remember Nic being voted in, seeing her Forsaken tattoo for the first time. I remember the joy on her face at finally feeling at home. I let myself even think about when Jeremy was patched. The brothers kept the actual patching in private, as they always do, but when it came time for him to sew on his top rocker, we all sat around and watched. It’s a beautiful thing, seeing a man give himself over to the club that way. I’ve never had the privilege of seeing a man sew his patches before. It’s personal for them, sacred. But with what we’ve been up against the last few years, and everything Jeremy’s done for the club, I guess my man somehow knew that we needed this. We needed to see the boy become a man.

  As I let my mind wander, all the while keeping a close eye on our surroundings, I can feel it finally settling into my gut. The resolve, the ice-cold determination to protect this band of misfits at all costs. Even if it means losing myself in the process. As an old lady, my life is supposed to be put above any of the brothers. I’m supposed to come first. But what they so often don’t get is that as an old lady, I’ll always put my family above myself. It’s unwritten, but it’s there. Anybody who’s been around long enough knows it. The only way you get voted in is if the club knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you’ll protect the pack before the individual. And I will. So will Alex. She’s already proven that, and she’s proving it once again right now.

  The bikes slow as we approach a short dock. There, in the center of the dock, is a trio of black sedans. All Mercedes, from the looks of it. Diesel stops at least fifteen yards from the sedans. In the distance, I can see Manhattan with its gleaming buildings and intimidating skyline. If we weren’t here on business, I might enjoy exploring the islan
d. But we are, so I stay focused. At once, the old ladies dismount from their old men’s bikes and stand off to the side. The doors of the sedans open and out steps two aging men, both with olive skin and bellies that keep their presence from sending fear down my spine. Neither is in the best shape. They both look worn and tired, even in their designer suits. Neither man looks nervous, but I know better. Forsaken doesn’t ride up on you like this and not spark even the smallest bit of fear.

  An older woman steps out of the passenger side of the middle sedan, and she smooths her hair back. Her expression is flat, but she swallows her own saliva as a younger man, no older than Ryan or Ian, climbs out of the driver’s side. He looks vaguely like the shorter man I assume is Emilio. Immediately I peg him for Tony, the little prick that turned this into a full-on war. It’s satisfying, setting my eyes on the bitch that sent Michael out to kill his sister. I’m going to enjoy gutting him. The woman must be Gloria, Tony’s mom and Emilio’s wife. She’s a friend, but she’s with the enemy right now. Not her choice, I know. But still, I mentally work myself up for the possibility of having to wound her if it comes down to it. I can’t ask Ruby or Jim, or Alex or Michael to do it. So I promise myself that I’ll be the one to do it. It’s the kind thing to do.

  “It seems you’re outnumbered,” Jim says, walking toward the Italians.

  The taller one—he must be Carlo—chuckles. He shakes his head, brings a hand to his mouth and whistles. None of the brothers, not even Jim turn to look. I turn my head, followed by the rest of the old ladies. The Italians have men perched atop the three buildings behind us. Each one is carrying something similar to an AR-15. I can’t really tell from here. Leaning in to Wyatt, I tell him what I’ve seen. I move to take my helmet off and assume the position of keeping my back to his when he whispers, “Don’t take your helmet off.”

  “Yes, baby.”

  “I see my daughter, but where about my son and my solider?” Carlo’s eyes are fixed on the woman by Ryan’s side. She’s holding his hand tightly, and I feel for her. She didn’t have to do this, but she did. I love her even more for it.

  From behind me, Bear and Torque slide open the door to the van and pull out Leo and Michael. Both men have one of those fabric drawstrings on their heads, and they’re handcuffed. We had to make it look like they’re our prisoners, so while they might be bound, they each have a key in hand to free themselves when they need to. That and the number of guns and knives we loaded them down with could slaughter a small village should they need to.

  Ruby walks toward Jim. She’s removed her helmet, the only one of us to do so. Her eyes are cold, trained on Carlo. She says nothing as she stops by Ryan and argues with him, eventually forcing him to let go of the woman at his side. Ryan screams, “Fuck,” loudly and kicks at the tire of his Harley before crossing his arms and moving forward to stand by Diesel. With each slow, deliberate step, Ruby looks like a woman destroyed. Walking her daughter toward the man who stole her all those years ago has to eat away at her. It doesn’t matter if that’s not what’s really happening—it can’t be easy nonetheless. With tear-filled eyes, Ruby passes Jim and keeps her eyes steady on his until she turns her head forward and comes to stand right in front of Carlo. The weight of the situation is heavy on my heart.

  Showing his stupidity and lack of patience, Carlo reaches out and grabs ahold of Ruby. He looks in horror as he sees Alex take a step backwards, not wanting to be close to him. The little move provides us enough time to deal with the snipers on top of the buildings. We all draw our guns, safetys off, and dive into position like we’ve practiced. I face Mancuso and stomp forward with the rest of my girls. Our men spin around and fire off round after round at the men atop the buildings. They’re untrained and slower than they should be for the job they’ve been given, because it doesn’t take long for our boys to take them out. Like a kid in a fucking candy store, Jeremy’s got an AK-47 in hand and he’s shooting at the tops of the buildings with a twisted goddamn smile on his face. I really do like this kid.

  Ruby laughs despite being in Carlo’s grasp. She laughs maniacally, throwing her head forward. Carlo tries to ignore the show of insanity and pulls her closer to him, like he can bully her into submission. But I know Ruby and she doesn’t let him win. She throws her head back as hard as she can, connecting with his nose. Tony and Emilio both draw their guns while Gloria backs up unnoticed. When she finally does draw a piece, she points it at the back of her husband’s head. But it’s too late. All hell breaks loose, and our plan goes to shit.

  Carlo pulls out a knife and moves it toward Ruby’s throat. The woman is fucking insane, because she doesn’t blink. She just slides her eyes to the woman in front of her and nods her head. It all happens so fast—with the feminine-clad figure rushing at Carlo and being thrown aside with ease. She scampers away as Carlo glares down at her and spits out something in Italian that I don’t understand.

  Behind me, I can hear more men approaching and being shot down by our guys. I don’t let it unsettle me that shots are being fired behind me. The shots are fewer and further between, with Mancuso’s men rushing at our guys and our guys taking them to the ground. I turn to check my back only to see my man with his boot to some guy’s neck. I turn away right as the guy takes a bullet to the skull. Just as I do, I see it. The plan I didn’t know about, the one that was so perfectly executed I can barely believe they pulled it off without most of us not knowing. The woman who rode on the back of Diesel’s bike throws her helmet off, revealing herself to be Alex. She stomps forward, her face red, with her gun raised. In a matter of seconds, both Michael and Leo are free from their shackles and drawing their guns on the men at our backs.

  “I love you, Mom,” she says firmly as she fires off one round after another at her father’s head. She misses, but it’s enough. Carlo is so struck by the turn of events that he’s frozen for a moment too long. Ian and Ryan rush at him, Alex ceases fire, and Ruby scampers away. Jim descends upon Carlo and throws himself onto the man, slamming his fists into the Italian’s face again and again. Duke has his gun at Emilio’s head. A loud shot rings off before Emilio crumples to the ground. More shots ring out as grown men cry out in agony. I don’t give myself the freedom of looking back to make sure my man is okay. Instead, I move forward, toward Gloria and the situation that nobody seems to be addressing.

  Tony has his mother by the throat. Her face is purple, and he’s not letting up. I rush toward them, trying to avoid the chaos around me. The woman might be in poor physical shape, but she’s a scrapper and manages to fight him long enough to push him off. He dives for a gun that’s on the ground. I figure it must be the one Gloria had before I lost sight of her. She’s standing there defenseless, with her own fucking son raising a gun to her head. He doesn’t have time, though, and I fire off a few shots that barely graze his chest and one to the leg that has to hurt like a bitch. Like the fucking pussy he is, he stumbles toward the edge of the dock and throws himself over. I stand there, in shock, as I watch him disappear into the water.

  When I turn around, it’s eerily quiet. There are bodies everywhere, some moving and some not. Bear is down, but the rest of our guys seem fine. I want to go check on him, but I don’t have the luxury. Carlo is holding on to Alex, a large knife to her throat. His eyes are crazy, and he’s dripping with sweat.

  “You would let them kill your own father?” Carlo asks, his question obviously for Alex.

  “No,” Alex says softly. “I’ll give you the same respect you gave me. I’ll just turn my back while I let you die. At least I know you earned your fate.”

  Ian gulps as Carlo presses the knife in enough to draw blood. Alex cries out in pain, and my stomach lurches at the sound. Ryan’s finger twitches on the trigger of his gun. Wyatt joins me at my side, shouting “You’re not getting out of this.”

  “I don’t plan on getting out, but I can give your whore something to remember me by,” Carlo says with a twisted smile on his face. He pulls the knife away from his own daughter�
��s throat and drags the blade up her face. He presses it into the side of her mouth and smirks as he drags the blade from the corner of her mouth, slowly back to her ear. My mind flashes with Ian’s face and the scar he bears from a scene all too similar to this. We could shoot Carlo, but the damage is already done. Blood pours from Alex’s face and down her neck as she cries out in pain. Tears push at my eyes, threatening to fall down my cheeks. I feel so helpless in this situation. Like there’s something I should be able to do to stop it. If we shoot, we risk missing and losing Alex. If that happens, then everything we’ve lose and all we’ve suffered is for nothing. All the pain we’ve endured is for naught if Alex dies.

  “Stop it, Mike,” Ruby cries out, a mother’s love and fear evident in her voice. Abandoning reason, she rushes toward him, but he only digs into Alex’s flesh further. She’s losing too much blood. She can’t take much more of this. When Carlo gets to her ear, he drags the knife back over her flesh toward her eye. Ruby makes it halfway to Carlo before Jim flies into action. He shoves her out of the way at the last minute and throws himself at Carlo.

  The rest follow, with Ryan pulling Alex away from the monster who created her. I’m so focused on Ryan falling to the ground, Alex in his arms, bloody and screaming out in pain, that I don’t see what’s happening with Carlo. Our boys got him, though.

  Ryan Stone, one of the meanest assholes I’ve ever met, screams out, with tears falling down his face. He rips his shirt and uses the torn material in his hand to cover Alex’s wound. He sobs loudly, unapologetically, as he holds the only woman aside from this mother that he’s ever given a shit about in his arms, unable to make her pain go away. “I’m sorry,” he chants again and again as he falls apart. Alex kicks at the ground as she helps Ryan hold the shirt over her wound. It’s going to scar. The cut was way too deep. My heart hurts for her, but there’s nothing I can do there.