Snake (Twisted Devils MC Book 6)

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Snake (Twisted Devils MC Book 6) Page 15

by Zahra Girard


  He slumps, falls to the side.

  All I can do is scream.

  Then he starts to stir, recovering from the shock.

  Snake plants his foot on his chest, pinning him, holding the gun aimed right at his face.

  “You think you can touch her and live?”

  Slade grabs at Snake’s leg, trying to wrench him off him.

  Snake’s answer is a hammer blow to his face that cuts the air with a sickening snap.

  “You worthless son of a bitch. You touched the woman I love. Now you’re going to feel the wrath of a fucking Army Ranger and Twisted Devil. Hooah,” he yells and, with the pull of a trigger, turns Slade’s head into a bloody mess.

  Eyes on fire, sprayed in Slade’s blood, Snake turns to me and offers his hand. I take it and he lifts me to my feet.

  “It’s time we end this,” he growls. “Whatever it takes.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Snake

  I help her to her feet. She’s unsteady in my arms, hurt and shaking from everything that Slade has put her through. This is too much for her; a woman like her shouldn’t be a part of a life like this — it’ll break her, and it’ll break my heart to hold her like this every time some menace tries to tear our lives apart.

  She’s too good for this.

  And if she stays here, eventually this life will extinguish that bright spark in her that makes everything around her brighter. Warmer. That allows dark-hearted men like me to bask in the brilliance of her love.

  If she stays, the Adella that I know will die; I know it deep in my soul. The same way the military screwed me up — waiting until I was nearly free to rip my best friend from me and leave me in the hospital with shrapnel in my body and scars on my heart — this life will get to her too.

  It’d be a betrayal of everything I believe in to let that happen.

  Even if it means turning against the president of my club, I have to get her out of here.

  “You’re alive. You’re alive and you’re safe,” I murmur to her as I hold her to my chest. She shakes against me, seeming as fragile as a dry autumn leaf.

  It won’t take much more of this to break her.

  No way in hell I can let that happen.

  “It all happened so fast,” she says. “You were gone, and I looked out the window and saw they were coming. I tried to fight them, Snake, I tried.”

  “You made it. You’re alive. That’s all that matters. And we will get you out of this for good,” I say. “We will end all of this. It’s time to go with your plan. And, when we’re done with all these assholes, you will get out of this town and away from this life. You have too much to live for to let all this shit bring you down.”

  “Out?”

  “Away from all of this. The club. The violence. The danger. We can’t be together, Addie. I’m a soldier, I’m made for this, but you? I hate to see this break you. You’ve talked about going your own way, so here’s your chance. You can get out of town — to LA or anywhere else, it doesn’t matter, because you’re talented and you sure as hell can build a life wherever you choose. You’ll be safe, you can start over.”

  Those words hang in the air and it looks like she’s going to argue.

  With her eyes wide, she nods.

  “You’re right, Snake.”

  Even though I know it’s the best thing for her, it hurts like hell to hear that. The last memories I have of Addie Stone might be of when we kill an FBI agent together. What a sad way to close out what has been the happiest chapter of my life; finding a woman who eases my pain, who makes me feel like the darkness eating me on the inside might have an end, only to say goodbye to her by committing murder.

  “Get in Ruby’s car. I’ll clean things up here, and then we’ll go finish this.”

  She does as I ask and set to work.

  First, I check on Ruby. She’s already awake and in a sitting position, and she waves off my attention. As much as anything, I think she’s hurt about not being able to take out Slade on her own.

  Once I’m sure she’s fine, I drag the two bodies a suitable distance from the overturned car, tossing them both into a ditch and covering them with brush before erasing the tracks. It won’t do much against a determined searcher, but it may buy a little time for the club to get someone out to clean up this mess for real before the authorities ask questions.

  Finally, I return to the car, nearly ready to leave.

  “Ruby, do you have a handkerchief I could borrow?” I say.

  “Check the glovebox. There should be several. Do not use the blue one, that one’s only for special occasions. Use the green one, if you find it. That’s my crime scene handkerchief.”

  “Crime scene handkerchief?”

  “I have a life, dear. And life gets messy. Sometimes you need to erase your tracks. You understand me?”

  I grab the green one out of the glove box and carefully use it to pick up Slade’s gun. It’s a military issue Desert Eagle. Heavy firepower, gaudy and impractical, but more than enough to handle the job I’ve got in mind for it. Then I wrap it up in the kerchief and shove it back in the glovebox.

  “Both of you keep your hands off that gun unless I tell you otherwise, OK?”

  Ruby mutters an affirmative from the back seat, where she’s laying out flat with her head in her hands.

  Addie nods, too. “Fine.”

  “There’s not much left to do. We’re almost finished, Addie.”

  “And then we’re really over?”

  I breathe deep. There’s a sense of finality that fills my lungs, my heart, makes it feel like I can’t get any air. It settles on my shoulders as heavy as any weight I’ve borne before. So much of this position that we’re in has come out of me breaking orders and, just like before, I will lose someone I care about because of it. Maybe Addie would still leave even if we weren’t together, hadn’t traded those words of affection and love that have been on our lips for years unsaid, but it sure as hell wouldn’t hurt this much.

  This will break me for a long time.

  I can see the same pain in her eyes.

  But we both know this has to end. If I’m with her, I’m breaking orders. Over and over. And that road leads to someone I care about getting hurt.

  No matter what it costs, I can’t let her get hurt.

  I have to get her out of here.

  “Then it’s over. You need to leave, because I can’t deal with seeing you hurt like this again.”

  She puts her hand on my leg, squeezes. There are tears in her eyes and she leans in to put a gentle kiss on my cheek.

  “I don’t regret any of it, Logan. I’ve always loved you, and I’m grateful that I got to see that side of you that you keep hidden from the world. I just regret that it couldn’t have lasted longer.”

  I try to swallow, but my throat is too tight. Gritting my teeth, I look away because I know that, if I look at her beautiful face too long, I’ll second guess myself.

  I doubt I’ll ever find a woman like her again.

  The car rumbles angrily as I start it, a luxury ride upset at being taken off-road and on some chase across ditches and desert terrain. I pat the dashboard.

  “Addie, I’m going to need you to drive. I’ll fallow on my bike. Keep a watch over you,” then I reach back and gently shake Ruby awake. “Ruby, where’s your phone?”

  Her hand reaches up next to my shoulder, and I take the phone from her and hand it to Addie.

  “Call Agent Jones. Set up a meeting somewhere private. It’s time we take care of that bastard once and for all.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Adella

  Far away from prying eyes, at the corner of a busted brick building in the industrial part of Lone Mesa, I pace. Well, I’ve been pacing for the last fifteen minutes, stopping only every so often to take a long look around hunting for any sign that Agent Jones is close. He’s late.

  I used to think this part of town was pretty. The old buildings have so much history written into their cracks and
crevasses, their crumbling facades tell a story of determined triumph over the desert and, in the right light, they’re beautiful. An old sawmill — where lumber cut from the mountains above Lone Mesa was hewn into the timber used to build this town — speaks of ingenuity and rugged industriousness. Even the old refinery at the end of the block can tell a story — of oilmen, of roughnecks, of the thick crude that drew men here in droves a century ago.

  Now, this craggy corner of disintegrating sidewalk will have a new story to tell; about a young woman who crosses every moral line she has to protect her family.

  I’m alone.

  I wish Snake were here. But he’s at a distance. We can’t risk Agent Jones getting any hint of what’s about to happen.

  I keep clenching my hands into fists, realizing I must look incredibly suspicious and wondering if Agent Jones is watching me right now — if he’s on to what I’m planning — and then forcing them open and shaking them loose.

  I’m alone, and I’m a wreck.

  And now he is fifteen minutes late.

  Soon, a black car comes around the corner and, at first, my heart races thinking it might be one of Bowen Dale’s men coming for me, until I see it isn’t a fancy-looking car, but the kind someone on a government salary might drive. It parks at the curb and Agent Jones gets out, stopping for a second to scan the road in both directions and, satisfied, he approaches.

  “You finally came to your senses, huh?” He says. “I have to be honest, I wasn’t expecting a call from you. Sweet as you are, I thought you were too deep in the lifestyle to realize what’s best.”

  “Can we get out of the open? I don’t want us to be seen.”

  “Sure. Whatever makes you comfortable,” he says, then taking a moment to check out the street, he points at a set of open warehouse doors two buildings down. “There. That look private enough for you?”

  I nod, not trusting myself to speak, I’m too nervous.

  Side by side, we walk to the warehouse. Agent Jones enters first, cautiously, scanning the interior before beckoning me to enter.

  “Now that we’re alone, it’s time for you to talk.”

  “I want to know what happens next, once I talk to you.”

  “That all depends on what you say. But I can tell you this, Addie: I’ve been after Bowen Dale Cooper for a long time. This case means a lot to me. I’ll stop at nothing to bring him in.”

  “How much does my information mean to you? I want some assurances that my family will be safe.” The words feel like they’re vibrating in my throat, I’m so nervous.

  He takes a step closer, looms over me; Agent Jones is a tall man, lean and muscled, with an angry, menacing face made hard by years in the FBI.

  “I’m not giving you any fucking assurances. Not until you talk. Not until you give me what I want. I don’t care how pretty you are, Adella, the only thing that matters to me is finally arresting the son of a bitch who has left a trail of robberies and murders around the country for decades. Now, talk.”

  “You don’t get to make demands of me,” I say. I reach out and give him a light shove to take a step back. “Without me, you won’t even have a chance of bringing Bowen Dale Cooper in. And this is how you treat me?”

  “You think this is bad? Let me remind you: you called me here. I’m not standing in this piece of shit warehouse just to have a little chat with you. Talk. Or I’ll come after your family. You think your daddy will last if I throw him in the interrogation room? You think I can’t break that old man? Fuck, I’ll have him singing like a bitch and then I’ll throw everyone you care about in prison. Give me the information I need, or I will tear your life apart.”

  I step deeper into the dark of the abandoned warehouse, and he follows in pursuit, eyes flaring, hands reaching for his back pocket, to either take out his handcuffs or his gun.

  “So your answer is to bully me? You’re so fucking pathetic. You’ve chased this guy for years and now you’re so desperate that you’re going to threaten some young woman? Honestly, I pity you. No wonder you haven’t caught Bowen Dale. You don’t have the brains or the balls to bring him in. Hell, you’re not even man enough to be a traffic cop.”

  Agent Jones leaps on me, putting both hands on my shoulders, placing his face an inch from mine. I can smell his breakfast on his breath — fried eggs, bacon, bad coffee — and spittle flies from his mouth as he shouts in my face.

  Behind him, another shadow darkens the warehouse entryway.

  “You stupid little bitch. I’m going to take you in, and you and I will spend some time alone in an interrogation room. We’ll see how your attitude changes once I turn the camera off. If you’re lucky and change your mind about being a hardheaded whore, I’ll just rough you up a bit. But if you don’t talk, maybe I’ll find another way to pry your lips apart.”

  I struggle in his grip, kick at his shins, but it doesn’t do a thing to break his hold on me.

  “You’re just pathetic. Fine. Arrest me. See what it gets you, you piece of shit.”

  He pulls a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket and slaps the steel over my wrists. Then he grabs tight to my shoulder and turns.

  And comes face to face with Snake.

  Gun out, silver steel barrel of the Desert Eagle pistol pointed right at his forehead.

  “It’s over, Agent Jones,” he growls.

  One pull of the trigger is all it takes to blow a fist-sized hole in his head.

  This time, I don’t scream.

  Agent Jones hits the ground in a limp heap, blood already forming a gigantic pool on the floor at the back of his head. Snake, face expressionless, stands over his body and pulls the trigger a few more times. The air rings with the sound of bullets and spent shell casings tinkling on the concrete floor.

  Then, still unspeaking, Snake kneels over Agent Jones’ body and rifles through the man’s pockets with gloved hands. He draws out Agent Jones’ cell phone and a hotel room key attached to a keychain with Restful Inn written on it.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that, Addie. But we’re almost through with this. Let’s get you back to the clubhouse and get everyone ready. It’s time to deal with Bowen Dale Cooper once and for all.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Snake

  At the clubhouse, Stone and I sit alone in a back booth, beers on the table in front of us. The harsh, inciting words to a plan hang in the air. He’s got the newspaper in his hands, and he’s wearing the scowl that’s only gotten deeper the longer this shit with Bowen Dale has gone on. Though, with my plan laid out in front of him, his scowl is the deepest I’ve seen; I’m asking a lot, and so much of it I’ve had to keep vague to conceal some of Addie’s role in it. If he knew that I’d used his daughter as bait to lure out Agent Jones — even though she volunteered — I’d be a dead man.

  I don’t keep everything from him, though.

  He’s as close to a commanding officer as I have, and the part of me that remembers what it was like to be a Ranger chafes enough hiding Addie’s role that it means I spare no detail in recounting Slade’s attack on Addie and Ruby. Stone’s face as I tell that story is a mask of murder. I have no doubt about what he’d do if Slade were still alive. The only doubt I have is whether anyone else in the club could stomach the aftermath.

  “This is your plan? Give him everything he wants and ask him to go away?” He says, watching me with a level look that sets my nerves on edge. “After everything this rotten cocksucker has done, you want us to just kowtow to his demands and hope he leaves us alone?”

  “No, I’m saying we ruin him by playing to his pride. This arrogant motherfucker has been untouchable for years — decades — and what’s brought him out with all this fire and brimstone is the fact that he feels vulnerable. He’s off-balance. We can use that. He’s a vain son of a bitch; if he thinks he’s won, he won’t question it. He wants to take his victory and get back to his life.”

  “It sounds to me that, by giving him everything he wants and politely asking him to lea
ve, he has won.”

  “Stone, there’s more to it than that. We’re only giving up three things, none of which mean shit to us. We give him that fed’s laptop that I stole from his room, we show him the photos I took of the body, and we give him back his nephew’s stupid fucking gun. A simple transaction.”

  “That’s a lot to give. And a whole fucking lot of risk, too. You killed a fed, Snake. A fucking federal agent. Do you understand the ramifications of that?”

  “I know. I know. It could bring hell down on us. But I’ve thought this out. This is the only way. We will not track Bowen Dale down on our own, especially if the feds haven’t been able to do it after all these years. Face it, the man’s good at hiding. And the longer we wait, the longer Tricia and Addie are at risk.”

  His eyes fill with fire at the mention of those two names. He turns and looks around the clubhouse, his eyes lingering on his wife and daughter. For decades, he’s been a proud husband and father. It feels low to use the man’s family to win an argument with him, but it’s the truth — the longer we delay, the longer they’re at risk.

  And the sooner this is over, the sooner Addie can get free.

  We need to win this war, and we need to win it now.

  “Fine. I’ll call Bowen Dale, set up a meet,” Stone says. Then he eyes the piece I’ve set out on the table: Slade’s Desert Eagle. “You sure you don’t want to keep the gun? It’s gaudy as fuck, but it’s a nice piece, a good trophy for taking out that son of a bitch who went after my daughter.”

  “You’re not the first to tell me that. Hell, Ruby said she wanted the thing as compensation for the shit she went through. But we need it if we’re going to pull off my plan.”

  Stone nods, folds his hands across the chest. “She’s got a point, brother. But if you say it’s essential, I’ll give her something else, see if that placates her. Maybe Trish and I will take her out to a nice dinner, or we’ll give her a few bottles from the top shelf.”

 

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