War of Hearts

by Nina Levine

  Fury: Fuck, sorry it’s so late. Been a long night.

  Me: Don’t worry about me. It’s only just past one.

  Fury: How was your day?

  Me: Ugh. My boss is being a bitch. Holly is on her fucking period. Mum is on a rampage. Maybe she’ll kill King. That would brighten my day.

  Fury: Your shrink needs to talk you into fixing your shit with him.

  Me: My shrink needs to just keep being chill about King. She says shit will be fixed when it’s ready to be fixed.

  Fury: Fuck.

  Me: How’s your leg? Is it healing okay?

  Fury: Don’t worry about my leg. It’s good.

  Me: I worry about every part of you. That’s my job since it’s the only thing I CAN do.

  Fury: Go to sleep. It’s late.

  Me: Night, baby. xx

  Me: I’ve decided it’s time to see King.

  Fury: When?

  Me: Tomorrow.

  Fury: Good.

  Me: Seriously, all you’ve got is good? I need to teach you how to use emojis.

  Fury: Christ, no.

  Me: You’re showing your age, old man.

  Fury: I’m showing how little patience I have for that kind of shit.

  Me: You just wait till Noah’s a teen. You’ll have to learn a whole new language.

  Fury: Let me know once you talk to King.

  Me: Will do. Sleep well. xx

  “Zara,” Mum says as I enter her kitchen early Friday morning, surprise in her eyes. “You’re here early.”

  Robbie wanders into the kitchen, his face blank in the way only a sixteen-year-old’s can be. “Hey,” he grunts, before pulling the fridge door open and searching for breakfast food.

  “Hey,” I return his greeting before turning back to Mum. “I’m here to see King.”

  Her eyes go from surprised to wary. “I’m not sure today is the best day for that.”

  She’s been like Fury the last two weeks, desperate for me to talk with King, so I’m unsure why she’s changed her mind. “Why not?”

  “He’s in a bad mood this morning.”

  “He’s feral is what she means,” Robbie says.

  Travis runs through the kitchen, grabbing Mum’s attention.

  “Travis King, stop that running now!” she yells, and I realise just how high the tension is here today. She’s used his full name and she’s shouting. “Robbie, can you please go stop him?”

  “No,” Robbie says. “I’ve gotta finish some homework before school.”

  Mum’s face registers her exasperation. “I thought you did that last night.”

  He shrugs. “Nah.”

  She loses her shit with him, beginning a tirade of how she really feels about his study efforts this year. I leave them to it and go in search of King, finding him in the garage working on his bike.

  He looks up as he hears me come in and the first thing I notice is his exhaustion. The second is the regret that flashes in his eyes. The third is the stubborn set of his shoulders.

  “Zara,” he says, straightening and placing his tools down.

  I move further into the garage. “We need to talk.”

  “If you’re here about Fury, I’m not going to get into it with you. That’s club shit and it has nothing to do with you.”

  God, he drives me crazy sometimes. If we didn’t have history featuring him not being an asshole, I’d give him a piece of my mind right now. But since he’s the man I’ve called my father for eight years, and since I respect the hell out of him as a father, I hold myself back. Also, I’ve had two appointments with my shrink this week and she’s helped me see some stuff I refused to see on my own. On top of that, she’s brought into focus what I think is really going on with King and Fury.

  “I never want to get into club shit; you know that. I respect all the boundaries you have around that. But if you can’t see that this has to do with so much more than just club shit, you’re not as smart as I believe you to be.”

  His chest rises and falls as he pushes his frustration out.

  His eyes send me a warning I pay no attention to.

  I step closer to him, consumed by all the confusing emotions that have come up since he discovered I’m with Fury.

  I love him, yet I hate what he’s done.

  I respect him, yet I can’t abide by his decision over this.

  I think of him as a father, but none of what he’s done feels like something a father should do.

  And that’s how I know Fury’s right when he says this is more about him and King than King and me.

  “He did something you hate: he didn’t give you the full truth about us and then he went against what you told him to do. He broke your trust and made you question his loyalty. What you need to know is he told me no repeatedly. He refused to give in to his attraction. And then, when he did, he wanted to go straight to you with it. I told him not to. I wanted time with him before everything went to shit. So if you’re going to be angry, you need to be angry with both of us, not just him.”

  “You were a child, Zara; he wasn’t. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near you.”

  “Jesus, King, I was eighteen. I knew my way around guys.”

  “Yeah, well you shouldn’t have known your way around any of my guys.”

  “Why not?”

  “Fuck, these aren’t guys who believe in fucking rainbows and unicorns.”

  “So what you’re saying is you want something different for me than you want for my mother?”

  “Don’t twist my words.”

  “I don’t think I am. I think I’m picking up what you’re putting down. And I find it incredibly hypocritical.”

  “We’re not getting into this,” he says, slamming those words down between us like he’s the one who gets to decide this.

  “Yeah, we are. I love you and respect you, but I’m an adult and I decide when I want to get into something. We might not come to a resolution, but we never will if we never start.”

  He forces out another harsh breath. “I’m not changing my mind on this. Fury stays in Melbourne.”

  “Think about what you’re saying, King, and when you do, think about the stress you’re under with the club and with Mum, because I think you’re running on fumes and making bad decisions along the way. Fury has always been loyal to you. Always. He’s one of the most decent men I know and I doubt he’s ever told you one lie. He’s not dishonest, and if you really think about that, you’ll see I’m right.”

  “We done here?” he demands.

  I nod. “We’re done. For now.”

  Leaving him, I go back inside to say goodbye to Mum. I have no idea if any of what I said to King will get through to him, but what I said about him being a smart man is true; he is smart and I know he usually takes on board the things we say to him and thinks them over deeply. So I can only hope he does that this time, too.

  “I’m leaving now,” I say to Mum when I find her in Meredith’s bedroom helping her dress.

  “You spoke to him?”

  “Yes, but I think it might help if you to talk to him again.” Mum’s already had many words with King over this and I hate to ask her to have more because their relationship is already strained. But he listens to her; I know he does.

  “I’ll try, Zara, but I can’t promise anything.”

  “Thank you.”

  The look in her eyes doesn’t give me much faith, but still, I cling to hope. If King doesn’t sort his shit with Fury, I don’t know where that will leave us all.

  43

  Fury

  * * *

  “You look as exhausted as I feel, brother,” Thorn says, taking the seat next to me.

  I scrub a hand over my face as I glance around the table. Winter’s called church, and I’m hoping he’s gonna have something new for us. Something that will lead us the fuck to where this motherfucking gang is hiding out.

  Demon’s information turned out to have a gift in it: a list of buildings we weren’t aware of that Zenith us
es for various activities. Winter has set up surveillance on all of them and now it’s a waiting game to see what comes of that. However, the biggest thing he’s trying to figure out is their location. Since he’s weakened them by stopping their cash flow, they’ve disappeared off Storm’s radar. We had eyes on them, but they managed to distract us a week ago by getting false information into our hands that led us to believe they were planning an attack. We pulled as much manpower as we could for that, and in the process gave them the perfect opportunity to disappear while we weren’t watching.

  I eye Thorn. “I’ve only been here three weeks; you’ve had a lot longer of this shit.”

  Winter enters the room and gets straight into it. “We’ve got a weapon shipment coming in today that needs to be ready for buyers in two days. I got word last night that Zenith has ceased all business activity, so we’re gonna be busy picking up the business we lost to them.” He then rattles off who’s assigned to what before looking around the room and giving his last directive for the day. “Tonight, we’re hitting some of the buildings Zenith uses. Surveillance has shown us which ones to target. I need everyone here, ready to go by ten tonight.”

  Church ends and Ransom jerks his chin at me as I’m exiting the room. “You’re with me this morning.”

  “Doing what?”

  “We’ll take point on this weapon delivery.”

  “When?”

  “We’re leaving now.” He throws a set of keys at me. “You’re driving the truck.”

  “Who else will be with us?” Fuck, I hope he’s got a list of names for me; this isn’t something that two people can handle.

  He runs through a list, but it’s only five names long. I don’t often hesitate to take on a job, but I have a bad fucking feeling about this one. However, I know it has to go down; Storm needs the cash these guns will bring in, especially since Zenith has taken a lot of that business from us.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” I say, showing Ransom a level of confidence I’m not fucking feeling.

  The delivery takes place an hour outside of Melbourne on a rundown property that used to be a farm. I back the truck into the barn that looks like it could collapse from a small gust of wind and then jump out, psyching myself for anything that could happen.

  “You’re on time for fucking once,” one of the guys waiting for us says to Ransom. There are five guys in total and I don’t like the look of any of them.

  Ransom doesn’t bother responding. He’s on edge like I am, and keen to get this over with. “Let’s just do this and get the fuck out of here.”

  The guy doesn’t like that—his features reveal just how much he dislikes Ransom’s response—but he proceeds to get the job done.

  We’re almost finished checking the shipment when I discover they’ve short shipped us and have done it intentionally.

  My head jerks up and I eye Ransom. “It’s short.”

  His eyes flash with anger at the same time the five guys all pull their guns and aim them at us.

  “Fuck,” Ransom says, pulling his gun and aiming it at the asshole who greeted him. “Why do you have to fuck shit up, Romero? This could have gone down a whole lot fucking easier if you’d just played nice.”

  “It’s not fucking short,” Romero says, gun still pointing at me.

  “Yeah,” I say as I aim my gun at him, “it is.”

  Romero comes my way and my finger twitches on my trigger. I fucking knew shit was going to go down. “Show me,” he orders.

  My mind races, trying to figure out his play here, so I show him what I’ve found while I stay hyper-aware of what’s going on around us. He inspects the box I found that has layers of fake guns under a few layers of the real deal.

  “Fuck!” He spins around and stalks to his men, now aiming his gun at them. “Who the fuck is responsible for that?” He appears furious, but I can’t tell if it’s all for fucking show or not.

  Fucking hell.

  My arm is tense as fuck while I keep my gun locked on him. And although it’s a cold winter’s fucking day, I’m sweating.

  We should not be here.

  When he doesn’t receive an answer, Romero singles out one of the men and puts a bullet through his head. He then quickly aims the gun at each of his crew before demanding again, “Who did that?”

  The problem with his gunfire is it sends a signal to our men outside that there’s a problem in here that requires them to rush in, ready to shoot before asking questions.

  Ransom knows this as much as I do and shouts, “Stop!” Thank fuck his voice is a roar that gets everyone’s attention and stops our guys from turning this into a shoot-out.

  He moves to where Romero stands. “I don’t give a fuck who did it,” he barks. “We’ll pay you for what you do have and then we’ll all get the hell out of here.” He presses the gun to Romero’s temple, his face filthy with anger. “Just know that if this shit ever happens again, you won’t be walking away. The only reason I’m allowing that today is the fact we need more from you next week.”

  We finish the transaction and load the crates into the truck. Romero’s crew leaves before us, which is how I prefer it, and then I jump up into the truck ready to get these weapons to the property Storm uses to store weapons and then get the hell back to the clubhouse.

  I follow two of our guys off the property while the other three take our back and we begin the drive back.

  “Fucking hell,” Ransom says after we’ve been driving in silence for five minutes. “This shit never gets any fucking easier. Some days I wonder if I’ll actually get home to see my kid again.”

  This is the most he’s ever said to me about his personal life. “Yeah, I feel you on that.”

  “You’ve got a kid?”

  “A three-year-old son. You?”

  “A daughter. She’s seven.”

  I’m only half listening to him because my attention is fixed on the bikes coming up behind us. Ten of the fuckers, all picking up speed like they’re on a mission.

  “Fuck, we’ve got a problem,” I say as I sound the horn three times, which is the signal to our guys to sit the fuck up and prepare for battle.

  Our men behind us speed up the side of the truck and pull in front of me at which point I slam on the brakes. Ransom grabs the rifles and passes me one as I brace myself for what’s about to happen. Noah flashes through my mind at the same time Zara does. It’s a fleeting moment of thought, though, because I have to keep focussed on the situation we’re dealing with.

  Our men have all come to a stop and are already dealing with gunfire, taking what cover they can in front of the truck.

  “Fuck!” Ransom roars as one of our guys goes down on his side. We’re all wearing bulletproof vests, but it looks like he’s taken a bullet to his leg.

  Ransom opens his door and jumps out as I do the same. Thorn covers me, and I run to the front of the truck. At the same time, the roar of bikes fills my ears and I look down the side of the truck to see Thorn take out the guy coming at us on a bike.

  “Fury! Above you!” Striker shouts and I look up just in time to dodge a bullet from an asshole on top of the truck. Ransom aims his gun at the guy and shoots, forcing the asshole to retreat towards the back of the truck.

  My mind snaps.

  My beast roars to life.

  My fury is a living, breathing thing.

  And there’s no way in hell these guys are going to win this battle.

  Shouldering my rifle, I run the length of the truck, not giving a fuck that I’ve got two assholes to contend with. One of them runs dry, though, and screams, “I’m out!” to his mate whose attention is then distracted as he reaches for a mag and throws it across.

  It’s enough for me to stop as I get closer and fire at them while deciding they’re fucking idiots for blowing their load too fast.

  They both go down and I continue my path to the back of the truck. I’m almost there when another guy appears. He takes aim at me, but I saw his feet under the truck before I saw him,
so I’m ready. I drop to the road, to my side, and shoot up at him. The blood and gore my bullets create feed my beast and fuel my body with enough adrenaline to keep me awake for fucking days.

  I’m on my feet as soon as he’s dealt with and around the back of the truck in time to find the guy who fired at me from the roof punching one of our men. Their weapons lay discarded on the road and by the looks of it, our guy isn’t doing so great.

  I ditch my rifle and reach for the asshole, gripping handfuls of his shirt to pull him from our man. Spinning him around, I punch his face, knocking him backwards. He doesn’t land on his ass, though, instead stumbling for a beat and then coming back at me with his fists.

  He yells some shit at me, but I’m so zoned out on the need to inflict pain I don’t take his words in.

  All I want is to use my hands to deliver death.

  And I do.

  Punch by punch, I bring the kind of pain down on him that he begs mercy from. But I have none to give. It’s not until Ransom pulls me off him that I stop.

  “He’s done,” Ransom says.

  My breaths come hard and fast as I stare at the bodies littering the road. “Who the fuck were they?”

  “Zenith,” Thorn says, looking as frayed as I feel.

  My eyes meet Ransom’s as my mind calculates what the VP has already figured by the look in his eyes. “Your club has a fucking rat.”

  He nods. “So it would fucking seem.”

  King is at the clubhouse when we return. He doesn’t speak a word to me and I return the favour. Zara found no joy when she spoke with him last week, and it doesn’t seem like much has changed.

  I’ve been in Melbourne for three weeks and Lynette has started giving me hell over coming home. I’m putting it off because I sense we’re getting closer to wiping Zenith out. Fuck knows I miss Noah, though, and he misses me, so I’m figuring one more week and then I’ll have to head back. If only for a visit. I want to see this shit to the end and make sure this gang never come to Sydney. That they never get close to my son or Zara.

  “Fury,” Winter says, coming into the bar where I’m throwing whisky down my throat. “Need you in my office, brother.”