I swung into my SUV and drove. Fate an appointment to keep. It was gonna be dirty and messy, and that’s what I did. I excelled at dirty and messy.
◆◆◆
Drake sat by his wife’s bed and gazed at her still face. Thirty-six hours had passed since Phoe was shot on the forecourt of Rage. His wife, who should have been safe walking her ass across the land that Rage had bled for, hadn’t been.
Phoe hadn’t spoken to him for three weeks. Three weeks in which the emptiness inside him grew and turned bitter. Phoe had been right as much as it galled him. Drake hadn’t considered the Trusts or his wife in his rush to get something on Artemis. He’d known what the hunter did for Phoe, and he’d ignored that. His arrogance shamed him now.
Emily informed him a week ago that Phoe was walking the streets in Houston, where Artemis had been tracking two brothers. They’d been marine’s, and both ended up on the streets, unable to cope with the PTSD they’d brought home. With Artemis gone, Phoe had taken on the task.
The Phoenix Trust had found one brother half dead. The PT feared the younger brother, a kid of just twenty-three was dead. Phoe had been looking for him. Drake may have the death of a marine on his conscience. Jesus, a marine. Without Artemis, Emily informed him snottily, the job was harder and taking longer. The older brother faced a shit load of rehab and physio. If they’d been two days earlier finding him, it wouldn’t have been so bad.
Drake had caused that. Drake had no choice but to accept responsibility for the pain and harm caused to the brothers. He’d no idea if they’d found the younger brother. He’d not even known his wife returned to RC until shots rang out across the forecourt. Drake watched in horror as Phoe was gunned down in front of his eyes. Drake sensed Carmine at his shoulder and looked up at his stepson. Carmine squeezed his shoulder. Carmine had flown in yesterday.
“I put in a call Drake, I had to.” The teen said swallowing as he gazed at the woman who’d given him a home, family, love and a life. Drake didn’t ask who his stepson had called, Carmine could only have called one person. With Chance on the warpath already, it only left Artemis for Carmine to call.
Drake nodded and kept on holding her hand. His other hand rested on her stomach where for now their child lived. It was too early for the baby to survive outside the womb. Drake knew it, and he prayed, he fuckin’ prayed like never before. The thud of two heartbeats kept his own going. His wife’s and his child’s. If one stopped… no, Drake couldn’t go there.
Chance was tearing apart RC, the underworld had fuckin’ shit itself and hidden. Ramirez had been in to inform Drake, if Chance and Hellfire continued, Chance would be arrested. Drake shrugged, not the first time his cousin faced a cell. Several snitches had gone missing from their usual haunts, and Drake had no doubts Chance was behind the disappearances.
Carmine sat, his head between his hands. During the day, his siblings took turns visiting the room. Drake refused to leave. So they’d taken ten-minute visits, so everyone got a chance. The best doctors had been flown in, and so far their mother held on to life. Carmine just needed Phoe to open her beautiful eyes and smile at him. God couldn’t be so cruel that after giving him a mother, he’d take her away.
The door opened, and Micah entered. The teen looked shattered. He’d flown in on a red-eye yesterday morning, coming from Miami. Micah was apprenticing car designs under a famous street car designer in Miami. Drake studied Phoe’s oldest child, the boy who’d become a man before he should have. Sometimes, Drake wondered if Micah sat on the fence, waiting for Drake to fuck up. Well, Drake had certainly fucked up this time.
Micah looked at his mother lying in the bed and his face twisted. His gaze drifted to his brother, and Micah grasped his shoulder and squeezed. He strolled to Drake and repeated the action. Drake’s hand rose off Phoe’s stomach and clasped his stepsons’ hand.
“I want blood.” Micah whispered. “I want blood, and I want oceans of it.” Drake nodded.
◆◆◆
Before entering the warehouse, I cased it and then walked in. Angel whistled, and I whistled back twice before following the sound. Angel stood on the first floor in the middle of the deserted building. Tied to a chair, beaten and bloody was a pockmarked man. His skin was sallow and so scarred with acne pockmarks, he could have been a dot to dot puzzle.
I walked forward, allowing my motorbike booted clad feet to make a noise. The target lifted his head , and his eyes were dull. He spat blood, and it dripped down his chin and onto his stained and bloodied shirt.
“Part of a local gang. The Black Lords.” Angel said in his low tones.
“Bastard’s signed their death warrant.” The man looked up, he looked to be late twenties, he drew in a rattling breath.
“You’re dead bitch.” His head dropped, and I looked at Angel.
“Had playtime?” I asked. Angel grinned.
“Sure did.”
“He’ll survive the transport to Rage?”
“He’ll live.”
“Contact the Rage VP Ace, tell him I’m bringing in four.” I crouched next to the chair and grabbed the man’s hair and forced his head up.
“You shot an innocent woman, Phoenix Michaelson, who only does good. You and your little gangbangers fucked up. See, Rage let you run around and play at being hard men. They’re okay with that as long as you didn’t fuck with Rage. You fucked with Rage.
You just wiped your pissant gang out. Michaelson’s woman is in critical care, he wants blood, he’ll have yours first. One by one, your members will fall, then Michaelson will work his way up until the streets bleed red. And they’ll bleed, believe me.” I slapped his face in a ‘there, there’ gesture and motioned for Angel to put him in the van. I’d a delivery to make.
“The other three?” Angel asked, walking beside me.
“Simone, Butch and Kristoff played. Buzz got inventive, but his target is still breathing.” I replied. Angel nodded. His code of honour was shady, always would be, but innocents were off-limits. If an innocent needed taking out, Angel walked away. Wouldn’t do it.
“They in the van?”
“Hogtied like presents on Christmas morning. Just bring your piece of shit to join them.” Angel turned on his heel as I climbed inside the black van.
I watched as Angel slid the van door open and threw the body inside. The smell of fear penetrated every inch of the van. I didn’t care. A woman lay fighting for her life, and that of her unborn child and I just didn’t care. As Angel walked away, I saw him pull his phone from his pocket. Angel turned the corner of the warehouse and flipped me a salute. Good to go.
Rage had sent directions to a clearing. Buzz acting the go-between, forwarded them to me. Bikes lined the clearing, and as I pulled the van into a space, I realised the entirety of Rage and Hellfire was present. Even the prospects. Only Drake was missing. Ace strode forward, and I slid out of my seat and met him face to face. Chance stood tense, his hands clenched into fists.
Shadows moved behind him, and I took in Micah, Carmine, Jodie, Tye and Serenity. Rage had brought Phoe’s children. Their choice, Chance and Drake would have approved it, I searched their faces and decided not to create a scene. The kids knew what Rage was, knew what Chance and Drake were. They knew this wouldn’t be pretty, and bodies would hit the ground. It was their decision, the kids were old enough to choose. Behind them, guarding them, stood Axel, Big Al and Texas.
“Four inside. Belonging to Black Lords.” I said to Ace as he approached, watching his face carefully. It was blank, but a burning fury showed in his eyes. Ace nodded towards Lowrider and Manny and opened the van doors, Chance climbed inside. Ace cocked an eyebrow at me at their condition. Chance walked over and stared at the four assholes I’d delivered. He lifted his foot and aimed a mighty kick at one.
“Appears they’d some trouble.” Chance growled.
“Don’t like their kind.”
“You don’t enjoy lots of shit.” Ace replied.
“Nope.”
“What do y
ou want for this?”
“I’ll speak to Drake.” Ace shot a hand out and caught me by the arm. Chance turned that frightening glare on me. Ace beat him to the punch.
“You’ll talk to me.”
“You have three seconds to remove your hand Ace, or I remove it for you. I said I’ll talk to Drake, I meant Drake.” Ace lowered his head to mine. I refused to give an inch.
“Drake is at his woman’s bedside, praying her and their child to live. You’ll talk to me.” I let my lip curl up.
“What I want you can’t give me. So back away big boy and let me walk, or they won’t be the only ones lying bleeding.”
“Ace.” Apache said in a low tone. He’d walked to his sons’ side and now stood behind him. Ace stepped forward into my space and backed me against the van. His arms came up to cage me in against it.
“Don’t push me Ace.” I warned. Ace’s gaze dropped to my mouth. Yeah, my mouth. What the ever-loving fuck?
“What’ll happen if I do baby?” He murmured, oh that touched something deep inside me.
Narrowing my eyes at him and taking him by surprise, I slammed both hands on his chest, forcing him backwards. As he moved to counteract my move, I ducked under his arms and gained a few steps. I spun and faced him and crossed my arms against my chest. Ace took one step when the trees rustled, and Akemi stepped into the moonlight. Chance raised an eyebrow, still glowering at the four assholes in the van.
“Did you think I’d come alone?” I asked sneering. Ace studied Akemi with as much interest as Akemi studied him. Silently, Akemi drifted towards me like a ghost and slid an arm around my waist. Ace’s mouth tightened.
“Get them out. Got things to do.” Chance bit out. I heard movement behind me and looked up at Akemi. He gazed back at me, his face blank but a question in his eyes only I could see. Forcing a half-smile to hit my lips, I shook my head. Akemi’s eyes spoke back to me, and I gave him a full grin.
Bodies hit the ground hard, and we turned back to the van. We needed to get it into a deep clean and get it put away until next time. As we turned back to the van, Akemi paused and looked back over his shoulder. Akemi spoke to Chance.
“We don’t like what happened. As Drake’s old lady, Phoenix should have been off-limits. She wasn’t. If someone has a problem, don’t bring an innocent into it. What happened was not a warning. Black Lords will cease to exist in a week. Men, women, recruits, children. Black Lords will be gone. That’s free, tell Drake, no charge for what’s about to happen.” Akemi delivered his words in his soft tone, which made them only more deadly.
Akemi was right. Forty-eight hours later, twenty bodies hit the ground. Every male member of the gang was dead. Women who’d belonged to the gang disappeared or left town taking their babies with them. Families of those fallen left Rapid City fast. Recruits decided against gang life. Black Lords ceased to exist, and the street gangs received a very stark warning.
◆◆◆
Phoenix still lay in a coma, the woman remained fighting, and life stood still for her family. Rage ran the businesses, but life for Drake froze around the bed his wife lay in. It was now five days since the shooting. The door opened, and he looked up towards it. Micah, Carmine, Jodie, Tye and Serenity walked in, and Drake searched their faces. Chance marched in behind them. The nurse refused to argue with Chance, having done so before and lost.
“It’s done. Last night.” Micah mumbled. Drake nodded.
“You okay?” Drake asked, wrinkling his brow at the kids. They’d just done something he’d never have asked of them. Drake would never have dreamed of asking them. He’d tried to stop Jodie and Serenity going, but they’d insisted, Micah and Chance backed them. His daughters had bigger balls than most men. Chance nodded at Drake, reassuring him, his kids were fine.
“Yeah, Dad.” Serenity replied and walked towards him and curled her body towards his and sank into his lap. Drake’s stepdaughter lay her head on his shoulder as his body tightened. The other kid's eyes grew wide. His arms slowly came up around the girl, and Drake held her tight, burying his face in her hair. Chance’s lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything.
“We’re okay,” Carmine paused and then as if trying the word out said, “Dad.” Drake felt his eyes sting.
His arms clenched around Serenity. He’d been in their life just over seven months. The first couple of months had been drama, chaos and blood. The past few months had been sweet until the last three weeks. Drake loved these kids, they were a part of his beloved wife, and he loved them. What Drake hadn’t known was they loved him back.
“Yeah, Dad, we’re okay.” Jodie said, walking to him and curling against his other side.
“Just dandy Dad.” Micah said. Drake felt that sting get worse, and a tear ran down his face. Acceptance from Micah, of all people. Chance nodded approval at the teen. Drake knew that Micah had wanted Phoe to get with Chance. Tye stood watching. Of the kids present, Tye was the most unapproachable. Tye nodded at Drake.
“We’re good Dad, Rage is good, we’re good, and Mom will be good.” Tye said. Drake swallowed the lump in his throat as he felt a faint movement against his hands. He looked to the bed and saw his wife’s beautiful eyes watching him. A tear ran down her own cheek. Phoe tried to talk, and he moved quickly. Chance appeared at her other side, grasping Phoe’s hand tightly.
“You got a breathing tube baby. Don’t fight it.” The door slammed, and Micah rushed to get a doctor. The weight eased from Drake’s chest that hadn’t moved in a week. His wife was awake, alert and by the tears in her eyes, aware. Chance’s haunted look faded as Phoe’s hand moved towards her stomach.
“Little Michaelson is alive baby. Baby’s a fighter just like its Mom.” Drake muttered. At that, she closed her eyes as tears leaked out of them. Drake brushed them away and held her until the doctors arrived.
◆◆◆
Four days later, Drake walked into the inner sanctum and sat his ass in a chair. His wife was still in hospital and recovering. Phoe was weak from three bullet wounds, but she was healing. The hospital had kept her, monitoring the baby for a few extra days. Tomorrow Phoe could go home. Today he’d business to attend to. Texas and Ace sat in chairs and Texas had a package in front of him.
“What’s that?” Drake asked. He got nods. Texas threw him the package, and he opened it.
Inside was a second envelope just as Texas had described. Opening it, he found a CD. Frowning, he flipped it open and looked at the disc inside. Fish and Apache walked in and took a chair.
“Where’s this come from?” Drake asked, confused.
“Found it. Look at the date. Bitch must have missed the mail that year, and I threw it in a drawer. Faint a memory of doin’ that shit, so went hunting and found me a prize.” Texas rumbled. Fuck, Texas had found one of the disc’s Misty had been keen to get her hands on. Drake put the disc into a CD player that was kept in the room.
They froze in their seats as a blood-curdling scream echoed through the room. Acting fast, Drake turned the volume down. More screams sounded and then begging. Ace locked his jaw.
“Don’t please don’t. No more Thunder, please no more. I’m begging you. Stop.” The final word sounded on a scream. There was the sound of something hitting flesh and pain-filled cries.
“Ain’t fuckin’ no blood.” Thunder's voice was heard. More cries, more sobs as they listened to Kayleigh being raped. Misty shouted over the screams, egging him on.
“Fuck her up good Thunder.” Misty yelled. A tick began in Ace’s jaw.
“She’s fuckin’ tight. Ace never fucked her in the ass.” Thunder grunted through his pants as he raped Kayleigh.
“Use the bottle. Or let me use the bat on her again.” Misty cried out excitedly. Bile rose in Ace’s throat.
“You can fuck her with that after I’m done. I’d fuck her mouth, but she got no teeth left in it.” Thunder laughed and then grunted again. Kayleigh’s screams and cries faded.
“Fuckin’ cunt is unconscious again.” Misty snee
red. “Gimme that bat. Think she’d some fingers left intact.” Sounds of the bat hitting flesh. Thunder and Misty speaking for a few minutes and then a sudden pain-filled scream.
“That’s it Misty fuck her good with that bat. I’m holding the cunt, she inn’t going anywhere. Give it to her fuckin’ good woman.” A few minutes later, the soundtrack ended. Ace was looking at his feet, his shoulders tight. Drake gazed out of the window at his brothers lounging around. Fish cried silently, no shame in his tears. Apache was pale. Texas lent over and threw up in a bin.
“You think she got a different CD each year?” Fish asked when he’d control again. That girl had been his daughter in everything but name and blood. To listen to that destroyed him. He’d never let his Marsha hear that.
“Would make sense. Misty wouldn’t run from the same piece each year.” Drake replied.
“Did we look under the floorboards?” Ace asked, his voice was raw, and Drake understood.
“Tore up the ones in the bedroom and living room.”
“Tear them all up. Every fuckin’ single one. Artemis said to look under the floorboards.” No question to whom Ace was referencing.
“On it.” Apache said as he left the room. Minutes later, the MC rolled out. Ace remained standing.
“Play it again.” Ace whispered.
“Ace.” Apache said, coming back.
“Play it again.”
“Ace you don’t wanna…” Ace cut Fish off with a roar.
“Kayleigh lived that! She fuckin’ lived it. Play it again!” Drake hit play.
◆◆◆
I looked out of the window of the office and watched as Nigel buried yet another search by Hawthorne’s girl. Leila was persistent, I’d give her that. If Hawthorne hadn’t got to Leila Gibson before me, I’d have recruited her. She was nearly as good as Nigel and Buzz. But not as good.
Buzz smirked at me as he buried the trail her search had been heading for. I could imagine the girl smashing her head on the keyboard, as it died a death same as the rest of her attempts.
The Hunters Rage Page 7