by A. J. Macey
Stone dragged her out of the bar immediately after Brooks had finished talking. Garrett directed me through the hall and out the back door, taking me toward the side building we had deposited our stash in earlier.
“Stay here”—he kissed my forehead—“we’ll be in to figure out a plan after we talk with the guys.”
I stood still, nodding, the numbness leeching my emotions away. As soon as the door was shut, I couldn’t wait. I packed as much as I could carry in terms of guns, ammo, knives, and even a smoke grenade on my person before pulling up the GPS pin. It was a small shack only ten minutes from here. Leaving a note on the desk, I left the building and the compound heading straight for the Alloy Kings and my assassin.
Parking half a mile away, I situated my bike under the debris of a few fallen trees, the broken splintered bark covering the shiny surface of my black bike. I stuck to whatever landscape I came across and made my way to the small, two bedroom ranch where they were keeping Chase. Based on the floor plans I could scour on my way over, there was a kitchen, cramped living room, bathroom, and one bedroom upstairs, while the second bedroom was downstairs, a small hall door separating the stairs from the room.
There were two men walking in a rotation around the edge of the yard, one in the front while the other paced the back. Dropping behind a bush, I waited for the man patrolling the front yard to come close. Sliding out the large knife I had stuffed in my boot holster, I calmed the torrent of emotions that swirled within me as I got into position remembering everything Chase had taught me. When the man came, I shifted quickly around the bush and, before he could make as much as a whimper, he lay in a pool of his own blood on the desert dirt. I continued silently around the house; the other guard was bored as hell and too busy messing with his phone to see me coming.
Two down. Unknown number to go.
Peeking in through one of the dusty windows I scanned the room. There were three guards in the main floor that I could see.
“Why the fuck are we even doing this stupid shit?” one of the men scoffed. “We aren’t damn babysitters, even if Chains and that fancy bastard Corden say we need to watch him. This is complete bullshit and we better be fucking paid extra for having to drive all the way here.”
I zeroed in on the mention of Jace and Bryce Hill’s road name, staying stone still in my spot as they continued to bitch about the situation.
“Who even bloody cares about this wanker downstairs?” This Alloy King had a choppy British accent, his face was covered in a variety of tattoos that shifted as he talked. “I just say we take him outside and shoot the arsehole.” I bit back a growl at his threat. Over my dead fucking body, you expat bastard, I thought, I think I’ll kill you first.
“Both of you, knock it off.” The third one finally called an end to the complaints in a gruff command. “Metal, you’re with me,” he directed to the non-expat, his thumb hitching to another area of the house. Standing up, the two of them went into the kitchen leaving the third alone.
Seizing the moment when the British asshole turned away from the entrance to this hell hole of a house, I bolted in. I plunged the knife into his throat, reveling in the feeling of his esophagus giving way to my blade. Unfortunately, he was more of a fighter than the two outside and kicked the rickety coffee table, resulting in a loud thump. The noise must have alerted the other two Alloy Kings because they came rushing in as he bled out all over the ratty carpet. Throwing several punches, I somehow avoided getting shot, but I didn’t escape getting kicked in the ribs.
Fucking bastard, that hurt!
Fuck it. I pulled out my Glock and figured the time for subtlety was over. My anger started to burn in the background, the numbness that had blanketed over me slowly receding as I quickly put two bullets in each of them. Rolling my shoulders back, I straightened my shirt and eyed the room until I spotted the door to the basement. Channeling my inner-Chase, I strode silently and confidently down the stairs into the basement. There were two voices talking loudly on the other side about what they should do.
“Fuck, man, I don’t know!” the first one shouted. “Check out in the hall and see if you can see anything.” I pressed my back against the wall by the opening of the door in the small alcove between the stairs and the basement bedroom. A surly-looking man peeked his head out and looked around not seeing me in the shadows of the darkened hall.
“I don’t see anything odd,” he spouted to his partner in the room. “The guys could just be watching a movie upstairs. I’ll go check real quick.” Sliding out of the room he shut the door behind him. I silently followed him up several steps before slicing his throat. The only sound in the house was the thud of him falling against the carpeted stairs, his meaty hands clutching his wounded neck in a useless attempt to stop the bleeding.
Making sure my faceguard was secure and that my braid wasn’t falling out, I closed the distance between me and the room where Chase was. A whoosh of the air conditioning kicking on brushed against the top of my head shifting the uncovered strands of hair. I closed my eyes and took a deep, centering breath. The numbness took control. Focus. Rage would only hinder me when I entered the room. I needed to let the rage fuel my actions but keep my mind clear. The severity of what I’d done was not even a blip on my radar because getting Chase back was my only goal. When I felt centered enough, I readied my gun and opened the door.
I was faster than the man standing to the left of Chase who was tied to a chair, getting the jump on him trying to wrestle his weapon out of his hand. He shouted obscenities as I elbowed his jaw and smashed his hand against the wall. The plaster dented and cracked under the force of the hits. The gun he was holding dropped to the ground in a thud. Kicking out, I caught him in the knee which gave me space to unload three bullets into his torso. Fuck. I growled at the fact he was still alive, only one of my two shots hitting a vital organ while the other hit his shoulder. Jumping forward, I stomped on the hand going for his discarded weapon. The sound of bones crunching beneath the tread was drowned out by his girly screams.
“How?” he coughed, blood starting to fill his mouth. I smiled, feeling that dark part of me that I tried to keep contained, the one Frankie instilled in me long ago, come forward.
“You planned for a thief,” I murmured, my voice sounding crazed to my own ears. “Not an assassin.” Immediately following my words, I placed another round between his eyes. Now that they were dead and the job was done, the emotions flooded in. Anger. Despair. Fear. I tucked my gun away and slid the knife into its sheath as I dropped in front of Chase.
“My little assassin,” I whispered, my words cracking under the emotions surging through me. Tears pricked my eyes as I pulled the strip of duct tape over his mouth. His eyes were bright and cheery, a hint of lust burning in his molten depths.
“I knew you’d figure it out.” He was giddy, completely unperturbed that he was still tied to a chair in a rival safehouse. “I’m just glad they were really shitty kidnappers; didn’t even find the phone I had tucked in my waistband. Can you believe that?” He scoffed as if he was really blown away by their stupidity.
“I don’t give two fucks, Chase Yarwood, if they were the stupidest or the smartest kidnappers. All that matters is that I’ve got you. Fuck, I love you so much.” I cupped his shaggy face tightly between my palms. The scruff had grown slightly without him trimming it as he did every morning. Pressing my lips to his, I drank him in. He wasn’t injured that I could see, no cuts or bruises, and that’s when it all became too much, and a few tears leaked from my eyes.
“Aw, Kittycat,” he practically purred, “don’t cry. You know I’ll always come back to you, my love.” He nuzzled my hair as he spoke, and my attention moved to his wrists and ankles where I cut the ropes freeing him from his prison. “I’ll call the Maintenance Man to come out while we head back to the compound.”
“Let’s go.” I nodded, my tears drying as he made the call. Within five minutes, we were on the dusty road back to the Aces.
M
ay 5th
Sunday Night
Garrett
I sighed. Stone was silent behind me and Brooks didn’t look too concerned about the members after having spoken to them. It took the last half hour to convince them, but once they understood Kiera wasn’t here to cause any trouble within the club, only to help, they backed off on their complaints. The door to the storage building opened quietly, but the silence inside the room was what had me pausing.
No Kiera.
Missing weapons.
“What the fuck!” I shouted as I barrelled into the room. Spotting a piece of scrap paper with Kiera’s girly handwriting, I scooped it up.
I’ll be back.
That was it, nothing else. I growled and shoved the note into Brooks’ hands before storming out of the building and back toward the bar. None of us had gotten the GPS coordinates from Kiera’s phone, so we couldn’t leave to go searching for her and Chase. The party in the bar was toned down more than normal, the music barely on while most of the patch holders kept their distance from hang-arounds, not wanting to be caught with anyone who could betray the club. I paced in front of the counter after snatching a glass of whiskey from Cheryl. Brooks and Stone were only a few steps behind me, both looking just as worried.
“I can’t believe her.” I ground my teeth together. That little…
“I can. Did you really expect her to stand by and wait when she knew where he was?” Brooks countered, taking a seat at the bar. “She isn’t exactly the patient type.” I rolled my eyes.
“Trust me, she actually is the patient type, but what she doesn’t understand is the difference between having balls and being stupid.” I felt my heart sputter to a stop when the talking throughout the bar silenced.
Kiera confidently strode through the door, Chase looking as happy as ever right behind her. She was armed to the teeth, blood spattered across her tanned face. Her hands were covered in dried red stains and her knuckles were cracked and bleeding. She held her head high as she walked through the room and came directly up to us. She even had the balls to smirk at me.
“I told you’d I’d be back.” She chuckled, her mood significantly improved since earlier. Chase patted Stone and Brooks sharply on the back as he smiled, his hand taking mine to shake.
“Ah, yay, the gang’s here! I sure did miss you guys,” he parrotted. “Those Alloy Kings were a bunch of idiots. I mean, seriously, they didn’t even try to have a conversation with me! You’d think after being rude enough to take me from my own house they’d oblige me by answering my questions while I waited for my rescue, but no,” he huffed. “Tittle bastards just decided to duct tape my mouth shut instead.” We were silent as we stared at them.
“Jesus.” Brooks shook his head to come out of his stupor. “Did you seriously go after him all by yourself?” She nodded and shrugged.
“They took what’s mine.” She said it as if that perfectly explained her running head first into a deadly situation alone. I felt my blood boil.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I growled, getting in her face. The closer I moved in the more I noticed how much blood was actually covering her. “What about going after a rival’s safehouse, by yourself,” I emphasized the last part, “sounded like it would be a good idea, Kiera?” Her lips curled into a scowl as she glared at me.
“I knew I could do it,” she snapped. “You’re welcome, by the way. The Alloy Kings are now down seven members.” A gasp could be heard from one of the patch holders at her words, and Stone eyed her in appreciation while Brooks seemed surprised. I knew she could handle herself, but fuck, I didn’t want her to get hurt.
“You didn’t have to do it by yourself,” I hissed, my anger burning at the fact that she had left and she might never have come back. I just got her, I can’t lose her now. “You have people at your back, but you’re too fucking stubborn and hard-headed to see past your own damned selfishness.” Her eyes flared, not in anger this time, but an emotion I didn’t think I’d ever seen in her eyes, hurt. Instead of snapping at me or fighting me like she usually did, she turned without another word and walked out of the bar.
“Nice, Gar,” Chase chastised, his words exasperated. “I think she’s been through enough the last few days. She can handle herself, and she doesn’t really need you fucking hounding her right now.” It rubbed me the wrong way that he was lecturing me.
Grinding my teeth, I snapped back. “I fucking know that”—I took a half step closer to him—“but that doesn’t change the fact that what she did was reckless and stupid. She went in without a plan and without backup up against an unknown number of people. One of these days, her actions are going to get her killed. How are you going to handle that then, huh?” Chase stayed silent, but I saw in his grey eyes that he couldn’t fathom a life without Kiera in it. Sighing, I followed Kiera’s path and stepped out into the desert evening.
If I were Kiera, where would I go? Turning my head slightly, I eyed the face of the building. I curled around the side of the clubhouse and came to the fire escape. Climbing up the rusty ladder, I found Kiera sitting on top of the center building on the roof where the main heating and air unit was. I grasped the edge of the little structure and heaved myself up. My kitten was sitting with her knees bent in front of her, her tattooed arms wrapped around them as she looked out at the compound’s grounds and the outside stretch of Nevada landscape. I sank into the same position she sat in, and memories of us doing this when we were younger and she needed to escape Frankie’s house flooded me, only this time she wasn’t a broken teenager, but a fierce woman.
“I see you found me,” she murmured, eyes staying on the night covered desert. I smiled slightly as a single laugh fell from my lips.
“I’ll always find you, Kiera,” I admitted quietly. “I didn’t mean to yell at you…”
“Yes you did, Garrett,” she cut me off, but her words weren’t harsh as she smiled slightly. “That’s what we’re good at.” Her eyes flicked to me, lit with a teasing glint as she smiled. My chest crushed under the thought of losing her. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she stuttered in a barely audible whisper. “I’m not used to having people to lean on and, to be quite honest to answer your question earlier, I wasn’t thinking. I just acted. I know it was dumb, and looking back, I’m surprised I didn’t get anything more than the bruised ribs.”
“Let me see.” I shifted, my fingers coming to the hem of her blood covered shirt and lifting it up. A darkening boot print was splayed on her ribs. Bruised, but not broken. “It’s probably a good thing you killed them and not me, because I would have been far more brutal. No one gets to hurt you and get away with it.” She chuckled, her mossy eyes finally returning to normal after the fucking shit show of the last 24 hours.
“I’ll make sure to hand over anyone who does.” She paused dramatically. “If there’s anything left of them after I’m done with them.”
Scooting closer, I curled my kitten in my left arm to bring her between my legs. Her warm muscled back pressed against my chest as her hair tickled my jaw. I propped myself up with my right hand behind me and held her to me as we watched the world around us for a while, no one but us and the Nevada desert. My mind drifted back to the first time we ever did this.
“Garrett Oliver Newlyn," my mother snapped, smacking the side of my head sharply. "Get your damn shoes on, we're going to be late." I grumbled to myself but complied knowing she'd throw her empty bottle at me if I didn't. I laced up my boots quickly, surprised she was even sober enough to go to dinner with this fucking tool she'd been seeing. I glanced over at her; she was wearing an expensive dress and a shiny strand of pearls. How the fuck did she afford that after pissing the money away on her last batch of heroine and booze? I pushed back the question and focused on tying my second boot.
We climbed into the beat up sedan that barely ran half the time and started down the road, heading toward another part of town I never spent any time in. Where the hell are we going? I internally groaned seeing the worn down houses
turn to posh estates and mansions finally figuring out she'd been pegging a rich dude for his money. I kept my mouth shut knowing she would make me walk home if I said anything, and I didn’t want to call any of the patch holders at the club for a ride since I had just started hanging around recently. We pulled into a fucking giant driveway to an even more massive house approximately twenty minutes later.
"He has a daughter," my mom informed me as we got out of the car. "She's around your age. Be nice," she hissed. I rolled my eyes, of course she would keep that information to herself until the last possible fucking moment. I schooled my face into a bland mask as she rang the doorbell. I could hear the ringing echo through the house. How fucking big is this stupid place?
"Hello, Barbie," a man greeted. He was polished to perfection in his suit and gelled hair, complete opposite to me in my ripped up jeans and barely combed mess of dirty brown hair atop my head. I wanted to roll my eyes at the nickname he gave her, mainly because when she was dolled up like she was now she looked like the hooker she was. She tittered at him kissing her on the cheek, and his cold brown eyes centered on me judging everything about me. "You must be Garrett," he added dismissively before holding out his hand for me to shake. I stared at it with no intention to return it, but my mom's sharp elbow in my side reminded me to try and be polite.
After he released my hand, he moved out of the door way allowing us to enter, and my eyes darted around the space in distaste. Everything was either marble, polished to a high shine, or a deep, stained wood. How the fuck did my shit mom end up with a man as well-off as this? Another man with blond hair that was gelled in a similar style to my mom’s latest victim strode into the room. What's up with all the gel on these rich bastards? He was followed by a thin girl who looked to be a year or two younger than me with dirty blonde hair that was braided over her shoulder. She wore a pair of nice slacks and a white blouse that made her tan skin stand out. She kept her head bowed slightly staying at least five feet away from the blond who stared at her harshly. Her eyes were a dark green mixed with a honeyed brown that reminded me of moss as she glanced up at me from under her lashes. Her gaze warmed as they worked their way down my tight shirt and jeans, but she didn't say anything or make any moves to introduce herself.