Loner

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “No, you don’t. If something happens to the both of us where does that leave the club? You drive the bus.”

  “What are you driving?”

  He juts his finger toward the ambulance.

  “9-11 what’s your emergency? I got a dead Russian.”

  Blackie nods.

  “Impressive, Parrish.”

  “Never doubt me, brother. I may be a fucking lunatic but, I’m a manipulative motherfucker at heart,” Jack claims before turning to me. “And, then there was the man of the hour left standing on unsteady legs.”

  “You’re riding with me,” he says, advancing toward me.

  “I’m ready when you are,” I retort.

  “You’re lucky I quit smoking,” he says, waving a hand in front of his nose. “No one light a cigarette around this kid, you’ll blow him up.”

  “You poured gasoline all over me.”

  “Are you waiting for an apology?”

  “Nope, just stating the facts. In case you forgot,” I reply.

  My tone may be brazen and maybe I’m being naïve but, I don’t think Jack intends to kill me. For whatever reason, I trust Jack Parrish. I trust him to help me bring back Kelly safe and sound. The revelation of who I am is hurtful and my deceit another knife in his already wounded back but, he’s not like Sally. He’s not looking to teach me a lesson. Beneath the crazy, is a man who understands people make mistakes and while forgiveness may not be his strong suit, he knows when it’s warranted and when it’s not.

  Stepping away from me, he turns to the paramedic removing a bullet with a pair of pliers. To the father kneeling over his son, holding his hand. Closing the distance between them, Jack stands behind Wolf and lays a hand on his shoulder.

  “Take care of your boy,” he tells him.

  I watch as Wolf glances up at him.

  Brothers.

  Not by blood but by choice.

  “I’m sorry for lying to you,” Wolf croaks.

  “I’m going to bring your niece back,” Jack promises. “I’m going to end this shit Cain left us all to die in and then we’re going to talk. You and I, we’re going to lay Cain to rest,” he adds, dropping his hand back to his side.

  Glancing around the room, he draws in a deep breath and reaches into his pocket. Pulling out the orange prescription bottle, he unscrews the cap and knocks back his daily dose of Lithium. Tossing the empty bottle across the room, he claps his hands together.

  “Let’s ride,” he shouts.

  Chapter Forty

  Leading us out of the garage and into the lot, Jack orders Bas to ride with us. The three of us squeeze into the front seat of the ambulance. It takes him a minute to acclimate to the emergency vehicle and truth be told, he looks completely out of place behind the wheel of anything much less an ambulance. Before we roll past the gates, he hands me his phone.

  “Yankovich is going to call with the location where he wants to make the exchange.”

  “The exchange?”

  “You for your girl,” he clarifies.

  “When did he say he’d call?”

  “An hour.”

  “It’s going to take longer than that to get to Purchase,” Bas tells him.

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” Jack taunts. “You’ve never ridden bitch to the Bulldog before have you?”

  “Can’t say that I have,” Bas mutters.

  “Saddle up, it’s going to be a bumpy ride to hell.”

  Taking off with the two buses riding behind us, we make a pit stop in Staten Island to retrieve the pipe bombs, Pipe buried before heading to the devil’s lair. Jack’s plan seems promising but again, I can’t be sure I’m thinking straight.

  All I keep picturing is Kelly’s face.

  Not knowing the details of how she was taken is driving me mad. It’s hard to remain positive. To not imagine her being tortured like Savannah. Knowing Yankovich is even more ruthless than Sally doesn’t help the situation and my mind starts to run wild. I think about the day I was discharged from the hospital and all the things I learned he did to the women my brothers love. How can I think he’ll spare her? That I’ll be enough to quell his thirst for pain and suffering.

  “Don’t let him smell your fear,” Jack says, pulling me out of my head.

  “What?”

  “If you let him think you’re at his mercy, he’ll chew you up and spit you out. Make him believe you don’t give a fuck.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Think about your girl,” he says simply. “Think with your heart,” he adds, pausing for a beat. “She’s got that Scotto blood,” he continues thoughtfully. “That makes her a beast.”

  I don’t know if I’d call Kelly a beast but, she is resilient like her uncle. She’s a natural born fighter.

  My little troublemaker.

  My wild card.

  She’s the one that’s invincible.

  I remind myself of those things over and over, throughout the whole ride to Purchase, New York. I chant them in my head when the gates to the mansion come into view and I picture her pretty face, smiling at me when Jack flicks the switch on the dash for the sirens.

  It’s a ride like no other.

  The telltale sound of our pipes is nowhere to be found.

  All that blares are the sirens.

  Red and blue lights flash, illuminating the mansion and announcing our arrival.

  Rolling down the window, Jack presses the call button on the intercom. A voice sounds in a foreign tongue and Bas leans over Jack.

  “We’re responding to a call of distress,” Bas says.

  More Russian bullshit sounds as a response.

  Bas turns to Jack.

  “The kids,” he mutters.

  “We were told there are two small children inside that need medical attention. Now, if you don’t open the gates and let us respond to the call, we will have to call the authorities,” Bas says, shrugging his shoulders. A moment later the gates slide open and Jack steps on the gas.

  “Pray,” he demands, speeding up.

  “Whoa, what are you doing?” Bas shouts, bracing his hand on the dashboard.

  Jack doesn’t reply. Instead, he slams his foot all the way down. The needle on the speedometer jumps as he drives the ambulance through the front door of Yankovich’s house.

  “Get out,” he shouts.

  I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline in my veins, the need to get Kelly back or simply instinct but, I climb out of the ambulance. The buses come to a stop and I follow Jack as he runs toward them. We take cover behind the bus as Blackie starts dispersing weapons. I’m not talking Glocks and pistols. I’m talking AK-47’s. It seems only fitting to break out the Russian developed assault rifles for Yankovich.

  As we position ourselves, Yankovich’s men start firing at us and Jack commands us to take cover and to stand down. Pipe emerges from the bus with Deuce. Being banged up from the ordeal with Brantley, the original Knight instructs Deuce on how to ignite the handcrafted bombs that got him his road name.

  “Go,” Pipe roars.

  “Wait a minute,” I shout over the gunfire. “You can’t blow the house up if Kelly is in there.”

  “Quiet,” Jack commands.

  Before I can argue, Deuce sends the first bomb flying through the air. It smashes the window but doesn’t go off.

  “Are they defective?” Jack growls.

  “Give it a minute, Parrish,” Pipe calls over his shoulder. Handing Deuce another one, the first one erupts inside the house. Flames dance through the busted window as the second bomb goes off. Four more follow suit before the mansion is lit in hues of amber.

  My knees buckle as I stare up at the three-story monstrosity. Pain shoots through my bad leg, threatening to drag me down. Before I fall, I feel hands start to tug at my clothes.

  “What’s going on?” I question as Jack pulls my cut from me and Blackie pours a bottle of water over my head.

  “More,” the vice president demands. Stryker hands him two more bottles.
Blackie continues to pour water over me as Riggs hands me his jacket.

  “Throw it on,” he shouts.

  “You can’t go in there with the gasoline on you,” Jack growls.

  “Shit,” Bas screams.

  “What is it?” Jack calls.

  “The kids,” he says, pointing to the second floor where a young woman stands on a balcony holding her two small children against her as the flames dance behind them. I lift my head at the sound of their cries for help and swallow the bile in my throat.

  “Jack?” Blackie questions.

  “Get the kids,” he barks. “You and Bas go save those fucking kids. The rest of you, follow me.”

  When Jack Parrish commands you to follow him, your feet don’t wait for your brain to send the message. They do as they’re told—crippled and all—they charge into hell and because they’ve been trained by a descendant of Satan, they dodge and dance around the flames like a professional.

  However, our feet aren’t the only part that’s been trained. We can sense a predator and hear a bullet heading straight for us. We’re practiced shooters who know when to take cover and when to pull the trigger. Like, Jack’s crazy is methodical so is the art of killing.

  And, kill we do.

  Busting into the burning sanctuary of the devil himself, we fire away. The bullets spray wildly, dropping one dirty Russian after another.

  Suddenly, the gunfire settles and all that sounds is the crackling flames engulfing the house.

  “Yankovich,” Jack screams, his voice echoes off the burning walls. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he calls, leading us into another room. “Come on cocksucker, come play with me!” he demands.

  “Jack, what if he’s not here?” I shout. “What if he took Kelly somewhere else? He never called.”

  Ignoring me, he leads us down a long hallway.

  “Oh, Vladimir,” he sing-songs. “Come on you fucking pussy. What’s the matter? I’m not a little girl so you don’t want to play with me?”

  The temperature heats and the stench of chlorine drifts past my nose as we walk further down the hallway, toward the only closed door in sight. Reaching the end, Jack turns to Riggs and lifts a finger. Then, another. As he lifts the third, Riggs lifts his leg and kicks the door open. The air changes instantly and we’re immediately suffocated by the humidity of the solarium. The sharp scent of chlorine hangs heavy in the air, burning my eyes.

  “Parrish,” the enemy calls.

  “The one and only,” Jack says, passing the threshold.

  Before I can enter the solarium, I realize why he’s lured us here.

  “No, no, no!” I shout, pushing my way past the brothers standing in front of me. Stepping next to Jack, my eyes dart around the room searching for Kelly.

  Naked and tied to the diving board, her eyes find mine. She struggles against the ropes. Against the gag covering her mouth.

  “There he is,” Yankovich says. “The son of the man who betrayed me.”

  Tearing my eyes away from Kelly, I stare at the monster.

  “That’s right,” I gulp. “Here I am.”

  Stepping forward, I spread my arms wide and offer myself to him.

  “Take me,” I say. “Make me pay for his sins but, let her go.”

  “Linc,” Jack growls. “Did you forget who is running this show?”

  “Did you forget, Parrish?” Yankovich counters.

  “Right now, your kids are probably burning to death and you still think you’re in control?” Jack fires back.

  “You think you’re here because you’ve outsmarted me? That’s almost comical,” Yankovich sneers.

  “Why is this motherfucker still talking?” Riggs growls.

  “And who do we have here?”

  “I’m the man who’s going to take a shit on you.”

  “Before or after we watch the young girl die?” he asks, rolling up his sleeves.

  “Jack, what’s the plan here?” Riggs whispers. “Are we going to play roulette or are we going to kill this fucker?”

  “Our father who art thou,” Jack replies, closing his eyes.

  Not willing to chance Kelly’s life on Jack’s sanity, I decide it’s time to finally take matters into my own hands but, before I get the chance to, glass flies everywhere as two dozen men charge through the windows shooting.

  Having dropped my gun when I offered myself to Yankovich, I try my best to get out of the line of fire. Bullets whiz past my head and I keep my eyes on Yankovich. Slowly he moves closer to the diving board. Leaning over it, I watch him touch Kelly. His hand starts at the column of her neck and travels south. He plays with her nipple and though I can’t hear her scream, I know she tries to.

  Yankovich lifts his head and his eyes find mine.

  He’s baiting me. He wants me to come to him.

  Bending his head, his eyes remain locked with mine as his tongue snakes out of his mouth and licks her skin.

  Staking a claim.

  Pissing on my territory.

  Call it what you want.

  His lips quirk devilishly and he pulls her to her feet. Sliding his hand down the front of her body, he cups her pussy and grinds against her.

  I don’t walk, I run.

  Or at least I try to.

  But, my legs give out and I fall flat on my face as Yankovich pushes Kelly off the diving board.

  I scream in pure terror as her body falls into the water. Everything around me fades.

  The bullets.

  The men firing them.

  The predator laughing at me.

  I scramble to my knees and hiss through the pain as I crawl to the edge of the pool. Reaching the end, I throw myself in and send a prayer up to God.

  Jack is right, only he can save us now.

  Chapter Forty-one

  If I never feared the water and had learned to swim, I am certain this is still how I would die. Like Linc was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps, so was I. My father was defenseless against the water. Whether he knew how to swim or not, I don’t know but, if he could, he never had the chance. Trapped in his car, he couldn’t save himself.

  There is no vehicle preventing me from escaping.

  My feet are tied together.

  My hands too.

  All I can do is hold my breath as the water drags me down.

  Before death, your life flashes before your eyes.

  I thought it was a myth, something society forces us to believe so we don’t fear death but, it’s real.

  Like an old movie reel, the years of my life play out in black and white. The highs and the lows. The times I wished would never end and the ones I couldn’t escape. Every movie has a soundtrack and mine starts and ends with Linc.

  His face is the last still shot in my reel as I close my eyes.

  His voice is, his beautiful voice sings the final chord.

  The tragic chord of a beautiful love song.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Pulling Kelly’s limp body to the surface, I shake the water from my eyes and search for someone to help me. Blackie is the first person I spot walking into the solarium carrying a little boy. Our eyes lock and without me having to ask for his help, he lowers the boy from his arms and jets for me. Kneeling at the edge of the pool, he leans forward and grabs Kelly from under her arms. Lifting her from the water, he lays her gently down on the tile.

  “Is she breathing?” I rasp, choking on the water. Gripping the edge of the pool, I watch him shake his head. He grabs her wrist and searches for a pulse.

  “Don’t die on me,” I beg her. “Please, don’t die on me.”

  “I found a pulse,” he calls over his shoulder. Lifting his head, he scans the room. “Stryker!”

  At the sound of his name, Stryker turns. His eyes dart from Blackie to Kelly and without hesitation, he hurries toward them.

  “Her pulse is weak, and she’s not breathing,” Blackie tells him. Scrambling to his knees, he leaves Kelly in Stryker’s capable hands and turns t
o me.

  “Give me your hand,” he orders.

  Keeping my eyes trained on Stryker, I watch as he starts to administer CPR.

  “Linc, give me your hands,” Blackie demands.

  Lifting my arms, Blackie grabs both my hands and hoists me out of the water. As my back touches the tile, I hear her cough. Water spurts from her mouth as she gasps for air.

  “My legs are fucked,” I tell Blackie. “Help me get closer to her.”

  Once I’m situated beside her, I lift my hand to her face.

  “Kelly, baby, open up your eyes,” I plead as Blackie removes his leather jacket. Draping it over her body, he covers as much of her nudity as it allows. Her eyes flutter open and my heart constricts in my chest as they lock with mine.

  “There’s my wild girl,” I rasp, pushing her hair away from her face. Blackie works at untying the restraints around her wrists before moving to do the same to the ones that wrap around her ankles.

  “Linc,” she replies hoarsely.

  “You’re okay,” I assure her. “Everything is going to be okay. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  As the words leave my lips, I realize I’m likely delivering empty promises. I may have pulled Kelly from the water but, death surrounds us. Lifting my head, the silence registers. The gunfire has subdued and has been replaced by the cries of children.

  Yankovich’s children.

  The boy Blackie was holding now, stands next to Bas who holds a little girl in his arms. Her face is buried in his chest, shielding her from the terror surrounding her. Beside Bas stands a young woman with platinum blonde hair. She wraps her arms around the boy and covers his eyes with the palms of her hand.

  Noticing that her eyes are fixated on something across the room, I turn my head.

  We were the underdogs in this story.

  Men led by a mentally disabled man.

  Fooled countless times, no one thought we’d survive.

  Yet here we are, every man accounted for.

  Ready to deliver the devil his rights.

  Cobra’s thick forearm latches tightly around Yankovich’s neck, suspending him six inches off the ground as Jack pulls the tailored pants down his legs. Next, he removes his underwear. Riggs steps forward and takes a knee. Pulling a roll of duct tape from his pocket, he starts to bind Yankovich’s ankles together.