by W Winters
Which will it be? Fletcher’s right-hand man? Or Laura’s father?
“Did he want to kill them or did he have to…” I tell him the only conclusion I’ve come to. “I didn’t want to kill Laura’s father, but I had to. Fletcher was different. One was surviving this life, the other barely surviving life at all. I killed Fletcher for business. I killed Laura’s father because I had to. Otherwise, I was dead and he’d have ended up dead too. There was no choice.”
“Well, those were left by Marcus and obviously for you. He’s been following you, talking to you, but this last note wasn’t from him. He didn’t order a hit on Laura.”
Thank fuck.
It’s silent for a moment before I tell Declan, “It’s a power play either way. He wanted me to know that he knew about me and Laura and what I’d done. He called my hand and I showed it.”
“Anyone would have,” Declan tells me like it’s all right, but it’s not.
“Everything’s fucked because of it.”
“I think you did something to piss Marcus off. He’s creating problems for you.”
“I haven’t done anything worth him even noticing.”
“It’s the same shit that happened with Carter. Everything was an easy truce until he took Aria. We think it fucked with Marcus’s plans, so he came for us.”
“I didn’t do anything though.”
“If not you, then Laura,” he tells me, meeting my gaze as we turn down a long dirt drive.
Anger consumes me at the mention of her name. “She’s innocent in all of this and you know it.” The threat is barely hidden in my tone.
“Delilah is still a factor. She has connections to Marcus and Laura knows her. We don’t know what Marcus knows about the two of them or what he thinks Laura knows.”
Rage pulses through me and I have to close my eyes. “He didn’t write the note though. He wants me to know he knows, but maybe he didn’t send those guys to Laura’s place.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Declan agrees. “Marcus is digging into your past. But someone else is going after you too. Someone who wants to pin it on Marcus.”
“Walsh?” I question.
“No. No, not Walsh.” The way he answers me, it’s like he already knows.
“Who?”
As Declan puts the car into park, the dome lights giving off a soft glow inside the car, he smirks. “I think I know. I got a print.”
“On the note?”
He only nods and continues. “And that print isn’t in the system but it matches another print I took from Laura’s place.”
“One of the three pricks who broke in?”
“You are correct.” Nodding, I crack my knuckles one at a time, peering outside. There’s an old barn, the painted blue walls fresh compared to the wood on the doors, but still, it’s worn down. Bright lights shine from inside the barn, and I make a note that there’s nothing around here for miles and miles. Woods, and on the edge of the bay.
Another smirk shows first, followed by a grin. “I know you’re pissed at me. But I have a gift for you.”
Before I can respond, he turns off the car and slips out of the driver’s door, leaving me there with apprehension. It only takes me a moment to get out, following him as he walks to the large sliding wooden doors to the barn.
Using both of his hands, he parts the opening and more light spreads across the field.
It’s quiet, except for Jase’s voice. “Took you long enough.” I can barely hear him, walking a few paces behind Declan, but I know I heard him right.
I’m still rounding the front when I finally get a good look inside. The barn is at minimum twenty feet high and twenty feet across, but at least double that in length.
Carter and Jase stand side by side. Both cleanly shaven and each wearing slacks, black and gray respectively, and dress shirts. Carter’s is rolled up to just above his elbows whereas Jase opted to keep his crisp white shirt sleeves down, complete with cuff links.
The two of them in this barn doesn’t make sense. With the crowbars, hammer, and nail gun on a short wooden bench to their right, anyone could easily connect the dots.
They aren’t the only ones waiting for us.
All three men are bound, on their knees, with burlap bags over their heads.
“Mine wasn’t burlap,” I comment, knowing in my gut these are the three fuckers who waited for me outside Laura’s place. Their body types match up. My fingers itch with the need to rip the bags off their heads and make sure it’s them.
Jase rolls his eyes and extends his hand to me as I follow Declan to them. “You good?” he asks me, my hand firmly in his.
His prying gaze sinks deep into mine, searching for what I’m thinking.
“You know I’m pissed,” I answer honestly, finally letting his hand go. His nod is nearly imperceptible, but then he tells me, “I would be too.”
“You want to hit something,” Carter speaks up and tilts his head to the man closest to him. “You can take it out on them.”
Although it’s not said in humor and it’s not said casually, I know it’s his attempt to ease the tension between us.
One of the men, the middle one, tries to say something, but he must be gagged because every loudly spoken word is muffled and the dumb fuck nearly falls forward on his face. He barely braces himself, still struggling to be heard.
“They say anything?” Declan asks, tossing his keys down next to the hammer and rolling up his sleeves. He takes them up inch by inch.
“That one is spilling everything,” Jase answers him and gestures to the middle man. Of the men that night, I barely remember his figure. He’s not the muscle, he’s not the heavier one. He’s the other guy. Inconsequential, but there. “The other two haven’t given up shit.”
“One may be a little hard to get to talk,” Carter speaks up, flexing his hand and then crossing his arms. The knuckles on his right hand are split. “His jaw might be broken.”
“Why’d you do that?” Declan says almost jokingly, making his way to the line of silver tools on the bench. He’s weighing a hammer in his right hand when Carter tells him the prick spit on him. “Anyone ever tell you that you have anger issues?” Declan says and then offers a smile as he holds up the hammer for me to see. Jase chuckles, Carter’s still quiet and I shake my head in response to Declan’s offer.
I haven’t moved from my spot, unsure on what the plan is. Truth be told, I want them to myself. All three of them. They got to take out Davis. They shot him down, easily taking his life. I didn’t get that justice. I haven’t gotten anything. I wanted to hunt them down and take care of this myself. I don’t want anyone else around when I take my anger out on each one of them, one at a time.
Although having them together, all at once does offer up a unique opportunity.
I want them to hear the sound of what happens when I’m crossed. I want the other two waiting and listening to their friend being beaten to death. It’s fucked up and sick, but all I can wonder is what they were going to do to Laura. And every answer that comes into my head justifies beating them to death. And taking my time doing it.
“How’s the gunshot?” Jase asks.
“All but forgotten about.”
He nods and I catch Carter taking me in. “I’ve had worse and the bruise on my jaw is already letting up. I’ll be fine,” I answer them and I mean it. With everything going on, I haven’t even thought about the gunshot. I take a pill in the morning for the pain, plus a pill in the evening. “Vicodin does wonders.” My answer gets a laugh from Jase and Declan, not from Carter though.
Walking to the bench, I ask, “How’d you find them?”
With the doors still open, a breeze makes its way in and the faint smell of fresh water from the lake behind the barn comes with it.
The man in the middle leans forward, his shoulders shaking as he lets out a sob. A look of disgust plays on Carter’s face.
“Middle man was the easy one. We had his license number from when we got Dav
is. It was linked to a credit card and that was linked to other bills, including an address.”
Carter leans forward, ripping the bag off the man’s head. His hair is matted on the right side, his face red and blotchy and a dingy rag spills from his mouth. He screams behind it, but the words are morphed into nothing that’s identifiable.
His face, though, I recognize his face. “Yeah, that’s one of them.”
“He told us where the others were. It was easy enough to collect them.”
Carter continues pulling off the bags and revealing the other two men. I didn’t imagine I’d feel this much relief when I laid eyes on this crew again. It matches the animosity though.
I wanted an outlet for my aggression… here it is. Wrapped up in a pretty bow.
“He say anything interesting?” Declan asks and nods to the one in the middle. He shrieks behind the gag and that time I heard him. Please. He cried out please. It’s muffled behind the rag, but I heard. I’m not going to give any mercy. He can scream whatever he wants to scream. He’s as good as dead. The only consolation I have is knowing he’ll regret ever stepping foot into Laura’s apartment until the moment he dies.
“Yeah,” Jase answers, leaning against the barn wall, propped up with his leg bent and one foot against the wall. “He said we’re working with Walsh, and therefore we’re free game.”
“Free game?” Declan questions at the same time Carter huffs darkly, with true humor at the mention that the Cross brothers are game.
“Remove his gag, I’m sure he’ll tell you we’re as good as dead like he told us.” Jase doesn’t take his eyes off of him. His expression is empty of mercy and the man continues to beg. The other two men don’t speak, they don’t try to do a damn thing. One stares straight ahead while the other watches the four of us, focusing on whoever’s speaking. He’s the one with the broken jaw.
“Did you ask them why they went rogue?” I ask. That note is everything to me. The one made to look like Marcus’s handwriting. I want to know why they did it. Why they decided to threaten Laura, to take her life, and why pin it on Marcus by writing the note the way they did.
“With the note?” Jase asks to clarify.
“Yeah,” I say as my voice hardens and I have to shove my hands in my jean pockets just to keep from reaching out to them. “One of them wrote it, right?”
Carter kicks the back of the man seated directly in front of him, the one staring straight ahead.
“We didn’t ask. You should though,” he informs me. “His print is on it.”
Every step is careful as I move toward the man. He’s in blue slacks and a collared shirt, almost like a uniform. He’s the tallest of the three. I crouch down in front of him, but an arm’s length away and rip the gag from his mouth, tossing it into the dirt. No matter how hard of a man he wants to appear, he still retches from the cloth being removed. He spits on the ground at my feet and I wait, letting the anger pass. I need to know: was it just them, or was Marcus involved in any way at all? I have to know who all of my enemies are.
“Why’d you want to pin murdering my girl on Marcus? Did he send you to her house?” I ask and when the prick doesn’t answer, I add, “He’s pissed about Walsh, so he goes after a woman? That doesn’t seem like Marcus.”
Silence.
“Seems like something a dickless coward would do. There’s no way a man like Marcus would go after someone’s girl. You want to be Marcus, but you aren’t.” My last line triggers something.
The man’s eyes flash for a moment and he clenches and unclenches his jaw, still not saying anything. I don’t mean to do it, at least I’m not conscious of it, when I strike out and slam my fist into his nose.
“Fuck!” the man screams and leans backward, which only makes him fall. The blood from his broken nose leaks into the dirt, and Jase lets him lie there for only a moment before forcing him back to his knees. All the while he fights it. I shake out my hand, reeling inside. I need to know. I have to know who wanted her dead. Every name. Every single name involved. They all have to die.
“Look guys, he’s not mute,” I say, deadpan. “For a moment, I thought I was having a one-sided conversation.” Everything on the outside of me, is at odds with what’s going on internally. Even the control. I need them to talk, to tell me what happened, or else I have nothing. They’re on their knees, at my mercy, but I still have nothing.
The middle man speaks up again, his eyes wide and his words muffled. Both men on his left and right glare at him.
I rip the cloth out of his mouth. “You have something you want to share?” Please. Please, I pray, give me something. Tell me what happened that led to this.
“Please, I’ll tell you everything, just let me go.”
“No.” My answer is immediate and the man’s eyes dilate as they go wide. He’s hit with shock at first. He’ll still tell me. I know he will. I have to believe that; I need him honest in his final hours. I’ll be honest too, just tell me.
“We told them it was up to you,” Carter informs me. “Guess he was hopeful that you would have mercy.”
“Please!” he begs, his single word yelled in such a high pitch it breaks from his throat being dry. “I’ll tell you everything. Anything you want to know.”
“You think you could do that? And then you could leave here and Marcus wouldn’t kill you?” Tears leak from the man’s eyes. “If you could do that, then whatever you have to say isn’t worth enough to even hear it.”
“It is! Marcus is leaving. He’s not going to be here. Please! I can tell you everything.”
My gaze shifts to Carter, who’s looking at Jase. A chill creeps into the silent room as the man heaves in air. “It was a mistake. I just want out! I want out of it all!”
The man who wrote the note, the one with the print on the letter, he curses in what I think is Russian before heaving his body at the middle man, his teeth sinking into the man’s cheeks and blood gushes from it. It’s not too deep, merely a gash, but blood leaks freely and the middle man screams out in agony, toppling over. I don’t make an attempt at all to stop it. I want chaos, I want them to attack each other. In violence there’s truth.
Carter grabs the first man by the back of his shirt, forcefully righting him and the man spits once again at the dirt under the middle man’s feet. A tinge of his blood remains.
Standing up, I walk backward, assessing the scene in front of me. One man on his knees, glaring at the rat he used to work with, blood staining his mouth. The middle one wriggling on the dirt, his cheek slashed. The third still only watches, the one with the broken jaw, hanging lower than it should on the right side. All I need to know, is which of these three will tell me the truth.
“Marcus is leaving?” Declan asks Jase before I can. Carter stays where he is behind the three men, glaring at them and waiting. He’s a brooding man and silent. Jase tilts his head for Declan and me.
“He said earlier, Marcus is picking a successor.” He’s not whispering, but he’s not speaking loud enough for the men on their knees to hear us. A successor? He choosing someone to take his role?
“He’s condoning going after women?” The disgust in my voice is evident.
“He gave a list of ways to prove themselves. It’s up to his nominations to execute them.”
“Free rein to do whatever they want to prove themselves,” Carter says and Jase nods, agreeing with him. “That’s what it looks like.” Marcus told them he’s leaving, and that whoever proves himself worthy, can take his place.
“Free rein?” I question, needing answers and not knowing who will have them. “My name was on a list, and they decided to involve Laura? Or was she included in the free-for-all?”
“Just you,” the middle man whimpers out the answer that gives me my first bit of peace.
Although anxious heat sweeps across my shoulders and chest, the knowledge that Marcus isn’t going after us, after Laura and me together, is a relief I didn’t dream of having. Maybe he is still coming after me and he’s
digging into my past, but Laura isn’t in his sights. She’s safe. She should be safe. These fuckers will pay the price for dragging her into this hell.
“Which one of them decided that Laura would pay? Which one?” I speak up loud enough for everyone to hear, my last question coming out harder. “Marcus sent his men out to prove themselves, and one of you decided to hurt her.” The men are silent, and I look past them at Carter. “I want him. I want the man who decided she needed to die.” He gets that price on his head for his print being on the note. I don’t even know if he made the call, but he’s the one I’ll take care of last.
“You can have them all,” Carter answers, bringing all three of us to stare back at him. The middle man is back on his feet, his head hung low.
I eat up the space that separates us from them, leaving Declan and Jase behind me. Gripping the man who tells every secret, I drag him up to me by the collar until we’re face to face.
“I’m going to ask you a simple question.” He’s already nodding his head, eager to tell me whatever I want to hear as I ask, “Did Marcus tell you to go after Laura?”
“No. He didn’t. It was Jared’s idea. He said it would send you on a spiral downward.”
“Is that one Jared?” I nod to my left and even though Carter’s nodding behind the man in my grasp, he answers quickly. “Yes, and that’s his brother,” he adds, motioning with his head which is the only thing he can move.
I drop the man, letting him fall to the ground.
“They just needed me to drive… I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t have done it. I knew I shouldn’t have,” the man bawls.
“Jared goes last,” I announce, feeling strangely calm considering the amount of hate that’s fueling my decisions.
“Whatever you want. This is our apology,” Carter announces and as fucked up as it is, I answer, “Apology accepted.”
I take the gun out of its holster and weigh it in one hand and then the other.
“I’ve been trying to decide… if I should shoot you first, since you gave up everything so easily.” The man in the middle looks hopeful for a moment, although he still shakes his head. My tone when I speak again clues him in to what I’m thinking before I crouch down in front of him, both hands on the gun between my legs. “The thing is, I don’t trust you. So I can’t give you that mercy.”