by Zoey Parker
“That's why Giovanni needs to be taken down hard, along with everyone who works for him, including that guy out there. I don't have a choice. It's just the way it's gotta be. I mean, fuck, you've gotta understand that, right? Wouldn't you feel the same if something like that happened to a friend of yours? Wouldn't you feel like you had to make the motherfuckers pay, just so the world could make some goddamn sense?”
Lauren had turned pale and her eyes were wide with fright.
Fuck. I was trying to explain myself, and I managed to make it even worse.
“Jesus, I can't believe these are the rules of the world you live in,” Lauren whispered. “You shot someone to death and made me listen to it, and you think that's something I should be able to understand? You've made me an accessory to murder, Nic! What am I supposed to do now? What am I supposed to say to the police if they come knocking on my door?”
“Tell them the same thing we tell them whenever they come to the Nest about some bullshit. You didn't see anything, you didn't hear anything, you don't know anything. They'll nod, write it down, and leave, and that'll be the end of it. You think they care when a scumhole like that gets put down? They don't, trust me.”
“So now you want me to lie to the cops and you're acting like it's no big deal,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “Just like shooting someone to death is no big deal for you. God, it feels like I'm trapped in some kind of nightmare.”
I pressed the ice pack against my face and shut my eyes. I'd gotten so used to the idea that she wanted me to protect her that I couldn't believe she'd turn on me now over all of this. I had no idea what to say to her to make her feel better.
“Look, you're not trapped anywhere,” I sighed. “I've expected a lot from you when it comes to dealing with this shit and that wasn't fair. I get that now. I get that you probably just want to run away screaming from all of this, but darlin', I am begging you to hang in there a little bit longer so I can protect you. Just please let me do that, okay? If you feel like you need to leave me after this, I promise I won't stop you. Just let me finish dealing with all this stuff first. That's all I ask.”
“Do they know me?” Lauren asked. “These people who are out to get you...do they know who I am, or where I live?”
I remembered what Caleb had told me and I almost lied to Lauren, just to convince her not to run off. But I knew that wouldn't be right. “I don't think so,” I said. “But still, it's better to be safe than...”
“Than what? Sorry? I'm already sorry, Nic.” Lauren walked to the door and opened it. “I'm getting away from you before someone else shoots at me, or I have to watch you do something horrible again. Please don't try to find me.”
I couldn't believe she would walk away like that. I wasn't used to wanting anyone this much, and the idea of never seeing her again left a hole in me the size of a shotgun blast. “But what about the baby?” I asked. “I mean, it's my kid too. You're not even gonna give me a chance to be a father to it?”
Lauren looked into my eyes, wiping a tear away. “When this child gets old enough to wonder about who its father was, I'll say you were a one-night stand I never saw or heard from again. I'll say you were some random bartender or a grocery store clerk. I'll say I never knew who you were and that there's absolutely no way to find you. And Nic, if you care about that child even a little bit, you will never, ever show up in its life and bring it the kind of fear and heartache you've brought me.”
She walked out, slamming the door behind her.
I almost felt numb from the shock of what she'd said. My own dad had run out on me and my mom before I was even old enough to walk. I'd never been able to shake off the feelings of disappointment and rejection I'd had as a kid, and even though I tried to find him to demand answers when I got old enough, I'd never even gotten close to learning where he'd ended up. For all I knew, he'd been dead for years.
Like I'd told Lauren, I hadn't exactly been walking around eager to have a kid. I was usually pretty careful about using protection with girls, unlike a lot of the other Reapers. But I'd always told myself that if I ever had a kid of my own, whether I'd planned for it or not, I'd never abandon it. I'd raise it the best way I could and always be there when it needed me.
And now I was going to have a kid and I wanted to be its father more than anything, and I wouldn't be allowed to. If I were the kind of guy who cried, this would have been a good time.
I wasn't, though. So all I could do was stick to ending the war with the Bonaccorsos, and hope that Lauren would eventually reconsider her decision. I was already desperate to see her again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lauren
I took a bus from the west side to my apartment, crying most of the way. The other riders looked away, pretending not to notice. I knew I couldn't even afford to spend money on the bus fare, but I didn't care. I just felt like I needed to be home more than anything.
Home will feel safe, I thought. There won't be any gunshots or blood or gang wars. Home will make sense. I'll be able to rest and sleep and figure out what to do next.
Even though I knew it was still too early for me to actually feel the baby inside of me, my hand still drifted to my belly as though I could. Just knowing it was in there gave me comfort. I'd never see Nic again and that hurt a lot, but at least I wouldn't be completely alone.
I knew how much I had hurt Nic with the things I said, but I felt like I had to be harsh in breaking it off with him or he wouldn't accept it. I was afraid that I wouldn't have the willpower to say no to him again. Even after everything I'd been put through just by knowing him, it was hard to deny that deep down, some crazy part of me was still convinced that we belonged together.
I walked into my apartment and collapsed on the bed. I didn't even bother undressing—I was too exhausted. The more I tried to make sense of my own thoughts and feelings, the louder and more chaotic they seemed, like a nest of hornets buzzing inside my skull.
I kicked off my shoes, pulled a blanket over myself, and fell asleep within seconds.
I don't know how long I was asleep, but when the noise woke me up, it was dark outside. I thought I'd heard something from the kitchen—a small thump. I raised my head from the pillow, brushing the hair out of my face and listening for it again.
A minute passed, followed by another. I didn't hear it again.
But I definitely heard it the first time. And after everything that's happened to me over the past couple of days, I'm not exactly in the mood to roll over and assume it was probably nothing.
I slipped out of bed, trying not to make a sound. I remembered how I'd done the same thing the morning after my first night with Nic and I felt a pang of loneliness.
I don't have the time or energy to focus on that right now. So I'll just put it out of my mind, check around the house for an intruder who obviously isn't there, feel stupid, go back to bed, and sleep for another twelve or fourteen hours until all this stuff with Nic feels like it was just a bad dream.
But just in case, I reached into the corner behind my bedroom door and grabbed the aluminum baseball bat I kept for situations like these.
After all, one could never be too careful.
I checked the bathroom first, flicking the light on and pulling back the shower curtain. No one there.
Next, I peered into the kitchen. Nope, no one there, either.
Finally, I tip-toed into the living room and switched on the lamp, looking around. Totally empty. I let out a sigh of relief and walked back to the bedroom.
Okay. Good. Bed time. Too bad I can't have a glass of wine or two to steady my nerves a bit first, but now that I've got a baby on the way, that would be a bad way to...
As I stepped through the bedroom doorway, I suddenly felt the barrel of a gun pressed against the side of my head. My breath caught in my throat. The metal was ice cold and my panicked brain wondered if that was the last sensation I'd ever feel, or if I'd be seared by the split-second of heat from the muzzle before the bullet entered
my skull.
I heard a muffled voice. “Drop the bat, bitch. This ain't no ladies' softball league.”
My fingers relaxed and the bat hit the floor with a clunk.
“Good. That's good,” the voice cooed. “You keep following instructions this well an' you might just live. Now put your hands behind your back.”
I complied and felt a zip tie drawn taut around my wrists.
“Nice. Stand still a sec.”
I realized that if he wanted me dead, he wouldn't be tying me up and telling me what to do. I thought about the three men who'd attacked me the night before and Nic's story of what had happened to Growler.
“Please...I don't have much money here, but there's some jewelry in the closet and I've got a TV and a computer...” I stammered.
“I ain't here to rob you, lady,” he sneered. “That ain't what this is about. Now shut it, or I'll shut it for ya.”
Please don't rape me, I thought. Please don't torture me or cut pieces off of me. Please, please, please. Kill me, even, but please make it quick and don't make me live through anything painful and horrible. I'm not strong enough for that.
The barrel of the gun withdrew from my temple and I saw the gunman step out of the shadows next to the door. He was tall and skinny, with olive-colored skin and curly black hair. Malevolent brown eyes peered at me over a white surgical mask. Somehow, that mask terrified me most of all.
“Now we're gonna go for a little drive,” he said. “And you're gonna be ridin' in the trunk. But first, I'm gonna need you to stand very still...”
The man reached into his pocket and withdrew a scalpel. I started shaking violently and I lost control of my bladder in a hot burst. He cupped my chin in his hand and leaned in, the blade hovering over my face.
“...so I can cut off a little something to send to your loverboy. Try not to flinch, okay? This will just take a second.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nic
The sun was setting as I rolled up to the Nest in the car Bard had given me, pulling around to the small parking lot in the back. Bard was outside smoking a cigarette. Clearly, his old habit had decided to stick around for a while.
I got out of the car and walked over to Bard. “Hey, do we have any more of that acid around here?”
Bard raised his eyebrows. “Why? Surely things didn't go that badly with Lauren.”
I popped the trunk, showing him Caleb's bloody body. “No, but I did manage to make a new friend and it turned out that he needed a ride.”
Bard peered in, grimacing. “One of Giovanni's?”
“Yeah. He followed us from the hospital and surprised us at the garage safe house, so that's pretty much blown.”
“Hospital?” Bard blinked, confused. He closed the trunk, pulled another cigarette out of a pack, and lit it with the butt of the last one. “I think you'd better start from the beginning, Nic.”
I told him about Lauren's news, the shoot-out with Caleb, and the fight that came afterward. He listened quietly and when it was over, Bard did the last thing I would ever have expected.
He put his arms around me in a tight embrace and kissed me on the cheek.
“I'm so sorry, kid. First Kong, then Growler, and now this. You must be completely heartbroken.”
I felt embarrassed by this show of affection and didn't know how to answer him. Thankfully, before I could respond, he clapped me on the back and released me. “Listen, I'll take care of this fellow in the trunk. Why don't you go in, have a drink or two, and get some sleep?”
I started to shake my head. “No, we need to find Giovanni and end this...”
“We will,” Bard said gently. “Growler's resting up after Giggles amputated his feet. I'll wake you when he comes around and we can talk to him together. Maybe he heard something we can use to find Giovanni. But in the meantime, Nic, you need to rest. We'll need you at your best if we're going to take down the Bonaccorsos. You're no good to us if you're stumbling around depressed and shell-shocked.”
I wanted to argue, but I was too tired and I knew Bard was right. The way I was feeling right now, I wasn't even sure I'd really mind catching a bullet, and that was definitely the wrong head-space to be in before going into battle. I nodded and allowed Bard to lead me into the Nest.
Sperm and a couple of other Reapers were playing pool in the corner, but the place looked mostly empty. “Where is everyone?” I asked, walking over to the bar.
“I sent them to hole up in our other safe houses,” Bard said. “After the Bonaccorsos firebombed our bikes, I figured the safest play would be to have most of the guys split up into smaller cells and go to ground. It'll make them harder to attack and easier to mobilize when we need them.”
“But what about you?” I asked. “Are you safe here?”
Bard shrugged. “The captain goes down with the ship. It's an old rule, but I've always appreciated it. But if you don't feel safe resting here, I can give you an address for one of the other safe houses...”
“No, there's no place I'd rather be right now,” I said, laughing bitterly. The hell of it was, I meant it. This damn bar was the closest thing I'd had to a real home. “It's funny. I remember when all of this started, you were so sure Giovanni wouldn't risk a full-on assault on the Nest.”
Bard smiled wearily, pouring a double shot of whiskey for each of us. “Well, I'm the president of an MC, not a psychic. Besides, that was a different time for all of us. I still thought we could resolve this somehow without an all-out war and I'll bet Giovanni thought so then, too. Doing something loud and bloody would have attracted unwanted attention and made things worse. But now that we've been openly defying him for months, he feels like he needs to send a heavy message or the other gangs will start circling like sharks.”
I nodded and clinked my glass against his. “Still playing chess, huh Bard?”
“Always,” Bard agreed. We both swallowed the whiskey. “I still plan to teach you how, too, when this is all over. Maybe you can teach your kid someday.”
I sighed. “Don't joke about that, man.”
“I'm not joking,” he replied levelly. “Don't lose hope, Nic. Maybe Lauren will be too scared to let you see the kid for the first year, and maybe she'll feel the same way for the second and third years. But when it comes to parents and their children, never say never. I think you'd be a good father and I believe that someday you'll have a chance to prove me right. Just have a little faith and a little patience and things will work out.”
I was touched by his words and felt a twinge of embarrassment again. We'd been through a lot together and shared a lot of moments, but he'd never talked to me like this before. I briefly wondered whether he'd ever had any kids of his own. He'd have been good at it.
The whiskey was starting to numb me a bit. Usually it would take at least four or five shots to slow me down, but I was so horribly tired. I didn't remember sitting at one of the tables in the corner and putting my head down.
# # #
A few hours later, Bard shook my shoulder, waking me up.
“It's Growler,” he said. “He's awake.”
Growler was lying on a table in a room in the back. His feet had been taken off at the ankles, which were wrapped in blood-stained bandages. He heard us come in and turned to look at us, his lips parting in a wordless greeting.
Giggles looked like he'd aged about fifty years and I remembered that he'd never even been a real doctor, just a nurse. Digging out bullets and sewing up holes was one thing, but amputating limbs must have been harrowing for him.
“I'm pretty sure the operation was a success,” Giggles told us wearily, “but I'll have to keep a close eye on him to make sure infection doesn't set in. He's going to need a lot more rest for his body to fight it off, so try to keep this Q&A session as short as possible.” He turned to Growler, patting him on the shoulder. “And hey, try to be a little less careless with your body parts from now on, okay, big guy?”
Growler chuckled silently and gave him the fin
ger with his remaining hand.
Giggles left and Bard leaned over Growler, showing him the blackboard and chalk again. “Do you feel up to answering a couple more questions for us?”
Growler nodded and took the chalk. Bard held up the board for him.
“Okay,” Bard began. “The place where they were keeping you. Do you remember where it was?”
Growler wrote on the board. “Naperville. Big white house. Corner of Oswego and River Road.”