We’ve all suffered enough.
Blood smears all over Liz’s seats and steering wheel as I make my way through town, going a hundred miles an hour all the way to Henry’s bar.
I swipe the tears as they fall, blurring my vision. I know what I must look like, covered in blood from head to toe. Each swipe of my fingers under my eyes smears a little more of Liz’s blood over my face.
I should be worried about being seen. Perhaps someone at a stoplight caught sight of me and is calling the cops, warning them about a deranged woman speeding down the streets of Deacon Hill, covered in blood.
I look down at my shaking hands, stained a deep crimson. A shudder rolls up my spine, reminding me of Liz’s injuries. Injuries that long after she’s been stitched up and saved, will still sear her from the inside out.
I will kill every last person that fucking touched her. Every person that even thought about touching her will feel my fucking wrath.
Henry’s bar comes into eyesight, along with four motorcycles parked out front with my father’s emblem glaring back at me in the sunlight. The symbol sizzles in the heat, damn near strobing at me like an omen, promising pain and sorrow for anyone that enters that bar.
I park on the opposite side of the street, about a block down, before I try and creep my way around the side to see how many other bikes are around the other entrances. I need as much information as I can get in a small amount of time.
Knowing how many bikes there are won’t make any difference in what will happen. The only real help it will give me is when I’m in the room with all of these assholes. If I don’t see as many people as I do bikes then that lets me know there are more psychos hiding in the bar. Other than that, I’m on my own for now.
Six, seven, eight…
My stomach drops when I count a total of eleven bikes, not all of them belonging to my father’s MC.
Hired goons.
My uncle has never sent this many men after me at one time before. The record high before today was eight men back when I was in LA. That was the longest they had gone without finding me, and I was lucky to get out of town and far away from Brody before they found out about him.
Eleven seems like overkill, but then again, he’s never had a RICO case reign hell down on his entire life before. He’s been backed into a corner, needing as much force as he can on such short notice to try and silence me before any of this shit solidifies.
He has no idea that he’s fighting a losing battle. The shit Liz and the feds have on all of these vermin is air fucking tight. They’re all dead. They just don’t know it yet.
When I see the number of fresh cigarette butts outside all of the entrances, including the back stock room door that’s damn near hidden, I start to think I won’t have another choice but to walk in, guns blazing. I make my way back to my hiding spot underneath the big oak tree, trying to come up with a plan that doesn’t include me walking right into their trap.
A small sliver of mercy lands in my lap when I notice there are no fresh cigarette butts underneath the small window where my bedroom is on the other side. It’s possible that I could sneak in there without them noticing.
These assholes are probably more worried about staking out the inside entrances and backdoor. I doubt they think I’m smart enough to try and crawl through the window.
Did they even notice the window?
If they found Liz and know how much she and Henry mean to me, they’re expecting me to come in with raging emotions, barging in through the front door to try and get to him. They’ve never had leverage on me before now. I’ve always run from Brody before they got too close to him. Now that they’ve hurt people I care about, they’re hoping that my female hormones will take away all of my goddamn sense and self-preservation skills.
I smile a little to myself, despite the war waiting for me just beyond the window. I can’t help but bask in the small amount of joy I get just knowing that for once, they’re shitting their pants. They’re trying like hell to tie the loose end that’s unraveling their entire lives and almost every life around them. They’re the ones running on emotion. They have no idea the eerie calm that’s enveloped me from the inside out.
I hunch down, keeping myself low, and skirt around the side of the bar. Once I reach the underside of the window, I glance around to ensure I’m still alone, before using two fingers to slide the window up.
Should I have probably locked the window when I was staying here? Yes, most likely. But I needed to sleep with the window open so that I could hear any sounds that came in the middle of the night. I’d rather be aware than get caught off guard.
Once the window is fully raised, I place the toe of my boot in the brick grooves of the wall and lift myself up just enough to peek inside the room. A derisive smirk covers my lips when I realize the room is empty.
These idiots didn’t even bother covering the back room? They must have been in a full-blown panic to miss something like this.
Not that I’m complaining, I mean, it is giving me an advantage, but still. A weird part of me expected more out of the big bad evil that’s held me at his mercy since the moment my father died.
As quietly as I can, I climb inside the window, holding my breath as I do. Once my body is huddled inside the small opening, I’m cautious to climb down as quickly and quietly as I came up. Any sudden moves, any rustle of the blinds, or loud smack of my boots against the floor will have the psycho team running back as quick as they can.
Then I’ll be royally screwed and all of this would be for nothing.
Once I’ve stuck my quiet landing, I take a moment to clear the small room, even checking under the bed.
You never know where the monsters might be hiding.
I tiptoe to the door, and press my ear against the wood, listening for what’s happening on the other side. I hear muffled voices from deeper inside the bar, but nothing directly outside the door. There’s a good chance that there could be goons waiting just outside the doors, leaving the window open as a trap, but it’s a chance I have to take. I know Henry is inside this bar somewhere and I have to get to him.
I remember Liz’s bloodied body and shredded clothes. I can smell the coppery scent of her torment that still covers my entire body. I can feel her blood drying on my face as if it were war paint. I can still faintly hear the sound of her gurgling, choking on her own blood, trying to beg me to find her father. She’s always been more worried about others than herself. She could die before she even makes it to the hospital. She could die before the ambulance even gets to her.
I shake those thoughts away, refusing to let emotions cloud my judgment at a time like this. I know it might sound cold and cruel but this is the only way I can make sure that I’m walking in with a clear head so that I can stay sharp and take every single one of them down.
None of them get to leave here alive.
That’s what Liz would want. That’s what Liz deserves.
I silently make my way down to the floor, lying flat on my stomach. I scoot forward, giving myself a small line of sight in the gap between the door and the floor. The lights in the hallway aren’t on, but since it’s still early in the day, there’s enough natural light filtering in from the front of the bar to see that there’s no one directly in front of the door, or at the end of the hall.
That doesn’t mean there isn’t someone standing on the side of the door, but hey that’s more information than I had two minutes ago.
Beggars can’t be choosers.
I grab my gun from my holster, flip off the safety, and ready my finger against the barrel, right next to the trigger. I steel myself with a couple of deep breaths, and very, very slowly, turn the knob.
Just like Liz said, there are no take-backs. There are no do-overs.
When there’s about a half-inch gap between the door and the frame, I take an opportunity to glance out of the opening, gathering as much information as I can. When no one comes into my line of sig
ht, I peel the door back just enough to slide out, and quietly close it behind me.
Looking in each direction, I make sure that I’m alone in the hall before creeping my way through the winding turns, gun to my chest, ready to aim the moment anyone I don’t know and love comes into view.
A Blue October song suddenly manifests in my mind, the words, the intent, buzzes in my ears, giving me the last bit of fuel I need to go to war with the evil that haunts me every single day.
It’s a song Brody used to sing back in the days where we could hide away from the rest of the world, curled up in our secret cove on the beach together.
He never knew how much that song meant to me, never knew what it meant to me. He and Abel were so in love with Blue October, you’d think they were gods to the two of them. They knew every word to every song that the band put out.
But right here, right now. At this moment, the moment where my life either ends or begins. That fucking song is my lifeline. It’s my strength, my driving force. My reminder that no matter what happens in this bar today, I’m not gonna go down without the fucking fight of my life.
‘I'm never gonna give up. Remember what abuse did. It's time you look at facing, as if you in any way understood. It always lowered me to downsize. It always lowered my faith. But it's in the corner rising next to me. It's in the corner like it upstage. I can’t explain the way I feel inside. Maybe it’s because it’s… I’m through. Yeah, you heard it. So I light you up. You can’t admit you're poison. Go run and hide. Maybe because it’s… Fuck you! Yeah, you heard it. So I'm gonna light you up!’
I’m coming for all of them.
And I’m gonna light them all the fuck up!
I crouch down as I take the final turn, bringing myself to the edge of the hallway, allowing me a quick peek into the bar, giving me a moment to see what’s waiting for me. What I find has me rearing back, hiding myself a moment longer, choking on my own breath as I force myself not to cry.
A few feet in front of the main entrance to the bar, clear as day is a sight that I will see every time I close my eyes. From now until I take my final breath this image will haunt me.
Henry’s tied down to a metal chair, tape across his mouth, a knife in each thigh, literally pinning him to the chair, with no hope to escape.
A silent tear rolls down my cheek as I try and stuff down the pain that sears through my chest at seeing the only father I’ve ever known, fighting for his life.
And I know, there’s little chance that I can save him.
Chapter Eighteen
Brody
“Stay with her until the ambulance shows up. Do not let her fucking die on me, Brody!” Remi screams, running toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I demand, terrified to let her out of my sight.
“To finish what I started.”
She’s out of the door before I can say another word. I want nothing more than to be by her side, running into the pits of hell with her. Just like we’d hoped. Just like we planned.
Just like I promised.
But we didn’t plan on Liz and Henry being collateral damage right out of the gate like this.
I had a bad feeling yesterday when Liz called to tell us that Remi’s uncle knew the truth. Remi never asked how he got his information and how he would know exactly where to find her.
Given the little bit of corruption I’ve witnessed inside the Deacon Hill police department when Max and Bree were abducted, I know better. There’s only one explanation as to why her uncle could have stayed on her trail for so long. The only way he could find her time and time again, no matter what city or what fucking state she’s in.
He’s got a fed on his payroll.
Seeing as how Liz was the first stop they made when they got to town, that much is now obvious. The only way they could know about her, and where she lives, is if someone in the FBI handed that information over on a silver fucking platter.
Remi said it took her brother two years to find a clean fed to take her case on and put her in WitSec. And since she’s come back into my life, I found out that the only way she’s been able to stay alive this far is because Liz had to create an alias, create a whole new identity for Remi, and then put that person into the WitSec system.
They knew there were dirty agents who could have access to Remi and get her killed if her real name was involved. How could they not have found out who the dirty agents in Remi’s uncle’s pocket were by now?
Hell, maybe they have. Maybe they knew and this was all part of the plan. Maybe this was the proof they needed to take another person down.
Fuck, I have no idea. I’m lost and hanging on by a thread of my sanity as I put pressure on the gunshot wound in Liz’s chest.
I’m doing anything I can, just trying to keep myself here until the ambulance arrives when all I want to do is run after Remi. I don’t even know where she’s going or how to find her at this point. She snapped her phone in half before we came to Liz’s house. Trying to find her now is going to be like chasing a ghost.
Just like I did back in LA.
And look how that turned out.
I can finally hear the ambulance sirens as they turn down Liz’s street and I breathe out a sigh of relief. If they take any fucking longer, she’s going to die before they even get her on a gurney. I won’t let these bastards take anything else from anyone else.
Their reign of terror is done. The only way they’re leaving Deacon Hill is in a fucking body bag. Remi and I will make sure of that.
Liz gurgles underneath me, the same and only sound I heard on the phone when she tried to call earlier. I can tell she’s trying to tell me something. Her movements push more blood out of her body, soaking both of us and the floor beneath us.
“Shh, try not to speak. Reserve your energy, you’re gonna need surgery and you need all the strength you can get.” I tell her.
“R-r-r.” She continues, eyes begging me to understand.
“I will find her, Liz. I promise.”
As the promise leaves my lips, I have this quaking fear inside of me that I could be lying to her. I have no idea where the hell Remi is going or how the hell to even find her.
Once again, I feel like I’m chasing ghosts.
The paramedics storm inside the room, forcing me to the side while two uniformed officers pull me into the living room so that I can answer some questions.
“Sir, can you tell us what happened?”
I look down and see Liz’s blood all over me. I can feel it on my chin, where her head was resting against me, when I held her in my arms. My hands are covered in red, dripping to the floor beneath me, staining her carpet an ugly crimson. My shirt, my jeans, my shoes… Everything is covered in the blood of the woman who’s loved and protected Remi every day for almost half of her life.
“Uh, my girlfriend.” I start, trying to find the right words to say so that I don’t implicate Remi or get her in any trouble. I can’t afford them finding her before I do.
Before she puts a bullet between her uncle’s eyes.
“The woman who was injured is your girlfriend?” One of the officers asks, trying to pry more information out of me.
“No, no. The woman is Liz. Elizabeth Daniels. She works for the FBI, she’s my girlfriend’s handler. My girlfriend is in WitSec with the FBI.”
Their eyes go wide, knowing that what’s happening is way beyond their paygrade and officially out of their jurisdiction. It’s a tangible shock that ripples through them, goosebumps rising on their arms the moment the words leave my lips.
“Uh, no offense officers, but I think given the circumstances that it’s best to hold off on the rest of your questions until my attorney gets here. No offense, but I need to know how much information I’m allowed to disclose to you guys given that this involves an active FBI case.”
Shane is going to lose his goddamn mind.
They nod their agreement, stepping back about two feet to give
me some privacy to contact my attorney. Truth be told, I’m pretty sure now that they know this involves the FBI, they want the fuck out of this house almost as badly as I do.
Almost, but not quite.
And certainly for different reasons.
They don’t want any part of this shit storm. I want to place myself dead center in it. We are not the same.
I pull my phone out and select Shane’s name in my contact list, pissed at myself that I didn’t call him as soon as we found Liz. I knew the cops would end up showing up, but I was so worried about Liz and getting the guys ready. Protecting Remi… Fuck, my sanity is stretched too thin right now.
“Hey, what’s up?” He asks.
“Uh, I’m with the police at Remi’s FBI handler’s house and I need you to get here as fast as possible.”
“Don’t say a word until I get there.” He snaps, and I can hear his keys start jangling through the speaker. “Send me the address, I’m on my way.”
I shoot off the address, telling him to hurry the fuck up. The officers huddle back around me as soon as the call disconnects, keeping me from being able to move from the spot we’re in.
The paramedics come out of the backroom, pushing a gurney with Liz’s bleeding form strapped down. I shove past the officers and run to Liz, taking her hand in mine. They all try to pull me back, to keep me away from her, but I shove them off me, refusing to let them keep her from me.
“We’re going to find out who did this, Lizzy. They’re gonna pay!” I grit out, already knowing who’s responsible, but wanting to make sure the police know it wasn’t me.
Wanting to give Liz something, anything to hold on to.
I’m the one that called 9-1-1 and I’m the one covered in her blood. I’ve lawyered up, refusing to answer questions without Shane present. I’d be stupid to assume I’m not their current prime suspect, regardless if the FBI is involved or not.
I squeeze Liz’s hand one last time as the paramedics force me back and take her outside, loading her up in the back of the ambulance, rushing off to get her the help she needs to stay alive.
Absolution Page 24