Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas
Page 82
“Fury called. Told me to get my ass out here, and do it quick.”
The crash of one of the solid steel doors swinging open, followed by Boss’ bellowed,
“Inside. Now,” has both Knight and I bleeping the locks on our trucks, heading his way immediately.
Turning to the prospect manning the door, Boss orders,
“No one in or out. No exceptions. No interruptions.” Eyes trained on us, he adds, “Shit just got extreme. I shouldn’t have to tell you that whatever you see or hear here is kept inside these walls.”
Knight inclines his head indicating his ascent, but my confirmation comes by way of a salute. Following Boss across the main room, I notice a group of women huddled together in one corner speaking in hushed voices. At the sight of us, their spines straighten, all of them falling deathly silent. If I weren't watching closely, I would have missed the sympathy in their eyes as they looked at Knight, but I caught it. Just.
Aside from a few brothers either taking up residence in various seats around the room, a couple of prospects working the bar, three club whores tidying up, and Sarge striding in from the direction of the dorms today appears to be just like any other. The only difference is the thick cloud of tension clogging the air.
Boss pushes the door that leads into the room they use for church open, making his way to his seat at the head of the table. It’s standing room only. Every seat at the table is full, men line all four walls shoulder to shoulder, in some places two deep.
As an outsider, I’ve got no idea if this is what church usually consists of, but based on the steely expressions on their faces, I’m guessing this is far from normal.
Dirty and Sly push out of their chairs, motioning Knight and I over, signaling for us to take them.
“Sit, and don’t speak,” Boss barks sharply.
Cutting to the chase, Boss commands the room like the true leader he is.
“Everyone here is aware of the situation that went down in Boulder a month ago, so there’s no sense in wasting time going over it. All of you also know that the club’s been looking into who initiated the attack too.” Gesturing to Lord, he states, “Lord offered his services, which only yesterday unearthed information, and he’s gonna share that with us, but before he does, a word of warning. This is club business. Decisions are going to need to be made, but neither of you,” Boss says narrowing his calculating stare at Knight and I, “are gonna have any say in what those are. The door’s over there if you don’t like it because that’s just the way it is.”
“Not my place to tell you how to run your club or handle your business, Boss,” Knight rumbles.
Trailed by my,
“Whatever’s gone down is obviously serious, and I’m pretty fucking sure I’m not going to like how it’s related to Blaine getting shot, but as long as you do right by my woman, we’re good.”
“Right. Lord, the floor’s yours,” Boss instructs, crossing his arms over his chest.
Glancing around the table, Lord begins by saying,
“Eyewitnesses stated that they saw four guys, all tall, not small but not bulky either, exit a black Suburban or similar a block down from the diner. I worked them, went back a few times, but none of them had anything new for me. Leads went cold after that, so I started hitting up folks who make it their business to keep their ears to the ground. Boulder isn’t a small town, but the mentality is. People aren’t particularly appreciative of their local businesses getting shot up, or innocent women being hurt anywhere, so they tend to get chatty when shit like that goes down. A guy I know, down on his luck, homeless, living in the back alley behind the diner said the same four guys passed where he was setting up for the night. Again, folk tend to take notice of out-of-towners, and my guy paid a fuck of a lot of attention to these ones. Nice shoes. High quality, expensive, probably Italian made. He tells me the shoes didn’t match the clothes, but the gold Rolex caught sight of did.”
Lord shakes his head, leaning heavily into his elbows that are resting on the table in front of him.
“Plates were a bust. Michigan tags were stolen the week before outside a crack house. Suburban was a dead end too. I called in a favor, only to find out eight thousand six hundred and seventy-two late model, black Chevy Suburban’s are registered in Colorado, Wyoming, and Utah alone. The fuck of it is, these dicks might have had money, but they weren’t smart. Most people who try to commit multiple homicides would lay low. Use an inconspicuous vehicle. Cover their tracks. These guys did the opposite. They threw money around, went out looking to score, and finally ended up getting drunk, starting shit with a couple of the locals who didn’t take kindly to their idea of partying.”
Running his hand over his head, Lord grips the back of his neck while the rest of us wait silently for him to continue.
“They hit my radar the day before yesterday, the morning after they trashed the bar and got into it with a group of six men who ended up escorting them out. Two of the guys tailed them back to the motel they were holed up in, making sure they were gonna settle in for the night.”
“How’d you catch that lead?” Boss questions.
“My ex works at that bar. We split, but we stayed friendly. Friendly enough that she lets me crash with her when I blow through town,” he grins. “The eyewitness descriptions were right, by the way. All over six-foot, lean, reeking of money. I spoke to the woman who runs the motel they checked in at, and found out they still had a week on their tab. Staked it out, watched them come and go, and took the opportunity to search their rooms when they left to get food.”
Lord’s grin is gone now. A mask of fury replaces it as his hands clenching into fists.
“I didn’t get to take a good look around since I heard noises coming from the bathroom. The motel register only listed four guys, but men with money like they’ve got can find entertainment of the female variety pretty much anywhere for the right price. I figured it was just a woman they’d picked up the night before no one bothered to tell me about,” he snarls, through clenched teeth. “The woman I found curled in the bathtub was definitely not a hooker or bar fly.”
“What the fuck?” Boss growls. “I take it that’s where you got those scratches from?” He indicates pointing to the angry lines scored down the length of Lord’s neck.
“Yeah,” Lord sighs. “The second I got the door open, she flew at me. It took a while to convince her I wasn’t going to hurt her, but once I got her to my bike, she calmed right down. Honestly, it was fucking creepy how quickly she went from pissed to all but catatonic.”
“She know who they are?” Diesel prompts.
“Not a clue,” Lord returns curtly. “According to her, they showed up at the doctor’s office she was working at demanding to have their buddy patched up. Six-inch knife wound to his forearm she said. The doc stitched the guy up, bandaged it, gave him a prescription for antibiotics, and sent them on their way. An hour later, she was leaving for the day, walked out back to her car, and that’s the last thing she can remember until she woke up on the floor of a motel. And not the one I found her in.”
“Time frame?” Boss interjects.
“February eighth,” he counters.
“Jesus fucking Christ! That’s seven weeks,” Maddox barks from across the room. “No one reported this chick missing in all that time?”
“She’s not a local. Said she was just passing through about six months back but saw an opening for a job. Figuring it was as good a place as any to settle, she did. Got hired, found a place to live, but according to her, kept to herself. When I pushed her for the number of someone to call, someone who’d be able to take her in while she healed, she shut down on me completely,” Lord offers looking pained at the memory. “I took her to another motel on the east side of town, got her some shit to wear, and waited with her until a buddy of mine could keep watch over her while I sorted those assholes out. Van should be arriving in an hour or so.”
“All of them?” Boss asks, tipping his head to the side.
“Do we have ID’s on any of them?” Gage presses.
“All four. They were open about who they were when she woke up. Told her why they took her, how long they’d be keeping her, and what needed to happen for her to be let go. That woman is a fucking amazing,” he states, contemplative, almost tenderly.
Like I said, I don’t know much about him, but Lord doesn’t come across as the type of man who would make a statement like that lightly. The road has taken its toll on him over the years. I’d guess at his age being mid to late thirties, but the leathery, deeply tanned skin on his face and neck, the silver at his temples, and the hard, world-weary eyes put him closer to being in his mid-forties, at least.
“Saul Rodriguez. Pedro Vales. Miguel and Angelo Petra. Lifetime members of the Vasquez Cartel.”
Boss mutters a low string of curses.
“Lackeys of Oscar Vasquez’s,” he shares with the room. “Low-level thugs. Oscar’s a fucking asshole, but he’s not stupid. The Vasquez Cartel has its hierarchy, each rung up on the ladder having a bigger piece of the pie and along with it, more responsibility. Those four motherfuckers are glorified, delivery boys. Pick ups, drop offs, nothing larger than they can carry. That means, if Oscar had them working this job for him, the woman was expendable. No way those four wouldn’t fuck up, and Oscar knows it.”
“Right on all counts,” Lord confirms, clenching his jaw. “They shared with her freely, and what they gave her was comprehensive. Apparently, a family member of hers got in deep with the Cartel. Made bets hoping to cash in, keep his business afloat, but instead, lost big. He was thirty grand in the hole when he died, and Oscar wasn’t all fired up to forgive his debt just because he was no longer breathing. As is the way of things; a debt that isn’t paid it accumulates interest and penalties. With the debt at fifty, Oscar starts hunting down dead guy’s family and friends. He’s got two boys, one of them has a wife, so Oscar does his due diligence and finds the weak link. Enter the four fuckwads.”
“So, Oscar leans on them to pay the debt?” Maddox surmises.
Shaking his head, Lord answers,
“No. Oscar checked into their financials, saw there was no way they’d be able to cough up the cash, and he isn’t too big on payment plans, so he went after the unmarried brother.”
“Speaking as a single guy, we don’t have that sort of cash hiding under our mattresses, Lord,” Gage volleys. “Beer, pussy, and motorcycles cost money.”
“Yeah, that’s why the plan deviated and they took the wife instead. Weeks they had her, but she managed to get word to her brother-in-law somehow, told him to become smoke, and took whatever punishments they handed out when she wouldn’t tell them where he was,” Lord growls low in the back of his throat. “And these guys are into some seriously sick shit, man. She hasn’t shared, but I caught sight of her back once, and I’d be surprised if there is an inch of skin left on it.”
“You get her help, boy?” Sarge puts in.
“Took her to a doc willing to keep his mouth shut for a fuck load of cash just before we got in today. He said it’ll heal, but it’s gonna take a while, and it won’t be pretty when it does. She’ll be lucky to have any sensation from her neck to the base of her spine.”
“That girl doesn’t have family, then there are plenty of good women here who’ll take her under their wing and see she’s looked after,” Sarge adds gruffly.
And he’s not wrong. I know for a fact Blaine will be the first to throw her hat in the ring where this woman is concerned. Avery too.
“She’s got family, Sarge. At least, a husband somewhere, but she’s refusing to share. Fuck!” He exclaims viciously. “She’s not talking at all. Told me what I needed to know, gave me the background, but it was like talking to a fucking robot. I get she’s hurting, not just physically, but it nearly killed me to see her eyes so dead. I’m telling you, whoever she was before this, she was a woman worth knowing.”
I can feel Knight’s impatience mounting beside me, and I don’t blame him for it. I might have got answers as to who shot Blaine, and soon that problem would be permanently taken care of, but the reason Knight’s here is still unknown.
“Right. First up, the woman.” Boss orders. “Have you got a name? I’ll call Brookes personally and get him to run it.”
“Found her ID because for some reason, they kept her purse. She grabbed it when I was pulling her out the door, but I hadn’t had a chance to search it until this morning,” Lord explains.
“Good. Brookes will have contact information within the hour once I get him the details.”
“Not sure what kind of situation she left, Boss. Meaning, I don’t know what kind of situation we’ll be sending her back into,” Lord mentions using a cautionary tone.
“I get that, and don’t think I won’t check into it before making an already fucked up set of circumstances worse for her. But trust me on this, brother. As a husband, I’d want to know my wife was safe. It wouldn’t matter to me if we weren’t together anymore, or why we weren’t, I’d still want to know. This woman’s man will too.”
Nodding, Lord mutters,
“Lena Parker.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
~ Blaine ~
I don’t clean often, but when I do, I make sure someone’s around to notice.
- Life Hack: 42
All Jonas’ text said was come to the clubhouse, now. So when I step into what can only be described as, pandemonium, I remind myself to have words with him later. Those would be; that in future, it would be greatly appreciated if he gave me a heads up as to what I’d be walking into.
The enraged bellow of a man I’ve never met before, echoes off the walls as the men restraining him bark out curses of their own while struggling to control him.
“Fucking take me to her!” His biceps bulge as he strains against their hold.
“And I said, calm the fuck down,” Boss returns equally as angry.
Sarge steps up beside me, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders, pulling me firmly into his side. Affection from these men isn’t uncommon, but no one is more demonstrative when he cares deeply about someone than Sarge. But this isn’t an affectionate hold; it’s protective.
“Stay clear, sweetheart,” he warns, the deep baritone of his voice confirming my thoughts.
Blinking up at him, stunned at the scene in front of me because it’s quickly escalating from bad to worse, I ask,
“Um…What’s going on?”
A few of the Vengeance members have finally managed to pin the furious man against the pool table furthest away from the crowd that’s gathered to watch. Boss and Diesel stand only a foot away, but they are far from removed.
Pointing one long finger at Sly, who is standing to Boss’ left, he barks,
“Get them the fuck out of here,” referring to the several old ladies and club whores that are observing the scene with their mouths agape.
I watch in horror as Jonas approaches him, but the man’s form begins to relax as they exchange words, allowing me a moment of relief. But when his struggles renew ten-fold as Jonas says something he obviously doesn’t like, I’m back to holding my breath, praying this doesn’t turn violent.
I’ve never been particularly good with confrontation, especially the physical kind. Growing up in an MC you would think I’d be used to it, but that is simply not the case. I don’t think I could ever get used to watching grown men beat the absolute crap out of each other, regardless of them believing they had good reason to.
Guiding me toward the bar, deciding I’ve seen enough, Sarge tilts his head in their direction, informing me,
“He probably didn’t get a chance to tell you, what with the baby and you moving in with him and all, but that there is your man’s good friend, Knight. Keeps to himself mostly. Has
a business he runs, a gym, in Lower Falls. Doesn’t have much cause to be down this way, but Boss had a hunch Knight needed to be here, so he made it so.”
“Okay,” I nod tentatively. “That doesn’t exactly explain why they are restraining him, and why he’s so upset,” I counter.
Sarge’s arm convulses around me, pulling me further into his side.
“He’s not upset, darlin.’ That boy is straight up devastated.”
I can see that. Knight may be angry, that much is clear, but if you look closely, you’ll see the dark shadows of pain and devastation written all over his face. This man isn’t broken, though. He’s shattered.
Breaking my study of Knight, Jonas calls,
“Baby, come here.”
Sarge lets me go, pressing his hand to the small of my back, giving me a light shove, but not before confusing me by saying,
“Just go over there and be yourself, sweetheart.”
Slowly, as if I was approaching a wounded animal, I step into Jonas’ side, smiling kindly at Knight before focusing on my man.