by Ann Jensen
Highdive managed to look both pissed and skeptical at the same time. “If you were actually a prisoner like you said, how did you get this kind of information?”
The hurt and anger in Pixie’s eyes made Sharp want to punch his Brother for his offhand remark. It was torture to stand back and watch her body practically convulse from emotions, but if he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to stop there. If things weren’t so on edge, he would sweep her away and keep her safe and isolated until she forgot everything bad. He would spend years replacing every nightmare with wonderful dreams fueled by endless days and nights of the type of pleasure that was only possible between the two of them.
Instead, he had to stand by while his own Brother triggered Pixie’s flashbacks with his careless words. Sharp had to give her space but if Highdive kept pushing or attacking her the gloves would come off. Pixie’s quick recovery surprised him as she straightened her shoulders and faced off against Highdive.
“I wasn’t just a prisoner. I was a sex slave.” Emotion choked her voice but Sharp was proud of how Pixie was holding it together. “Mitchel liked getting blowjobs while being driven around for work. He would chain me to the back seat of his fancy SUV which had a nav system on the center console.”
“And you remember all these coordinates?” Highdive’s doubt turned his words into a sneer. Sharp’s control was near its end, his knuckles cracking as he tightened his hands into fists. Pixie had done nothing to deserve his Brother’s attitude. If his Brother wanted to lash out at random targets, he was about to find out that sometimes you got hit back.
“Yeah,” Pixie snapped. “Photo-fucking-graphic memory. I remember everything. Ev-er-y-thing I have ever seen. From the nightmare-inducing image of a girl barely old enough to vote being stabbed twenty-three times then literally fucked to death, to the stupid number on your driver’s license that I saw for two seconds when you pulled out the picture of your niece.” She was panting, her breath coming too fast, but she wasn’t screaming or acting hysterical. After a few seconds all the light and life seemed to drain out of her. The broken tone in her voice almost took Sharp out at the knees. “Forget it. I’m done. You all do whatever. I am going to help clean up since that is all I am apparently good for.”
She spun and practically ran for the Clubhouse without a hint of the sobs which were right below the surface. Sharp knew he should call out to her, go comfort her, but Hawk’s grip held him in place.
“What the fuck, man?” Sharp’s rage was evident in his voice.
Highdive’s sneer was ugly. “Don’t you think it’s a bit convenient? She shows up and we got cops on our doorstep, a war with the Minettis, and a man even Tek can’t find is taking out hits on the Brothers. Yet she had his home address in her back pocket. She’s no victim. She’s a honey trap bringing down this Club and you’re falling for it!”
Highdive was ready for a fight, but he didn’t see the punch that knocked him to the ground because it didn’t come from Sharp. It came from Max, the funny and calm Road Captain who was now standing over the downed man with a terrifying light in his eyes. “Don’t get up until I’ve said my piece, or you will regret it.” The usually calm and cheerful Brother’s voice was gone; these words had ice on every syllable.
“Her body was covered with so many knife wounds and bruises that I don’t think there was an inch of her back or legs unmarked. I’ve seen men bedridden for days from injuries half that bad. But she rode for hours on the back of Sharp’s bike until her clothing was soaked with blood without complaint. She hasn’t been complaining or planting dissent within the Club. She doesn’t bitch. Instead, she does everything she can to help. That girl has done nothing but survive the shittiest life any of us could imagine and still manages to bring light into the world. You’re pissed Grinder got hurt and you’re taking that bullshit out on her. Sharp made that woman family and you just shit all over her.”
Sharp’s own anger was cooled by the shock of Max’s aggressive reaction. Highdive was an ex-Marine, their sergeant at arms, and a brutal enforcer who had never been knocked down in a fight. All they knew about Max was he was into motocross and had been patched in ten years ago in LA. He had been made Road Captain because of his quick mind and level temper. This cold scary side made Sharp wonder what other secrets he might be hiding. He knew without words not to push the man right now because death might be a real possibility.
But Highdive wasn’t giving up so easily. “If she hadn’t lured Sharp in–”
“Lured? You weren’t fucking there, but I know Sharp told you what happened. She said two words: ‘Help me’. And I was never fucking prouder to be a Dark Son than when Sharp stepped up. You think you know hell having been in combat? You don’t know shit. Women who survive that asshole for even a few months are rare. Mitchel is known within certain communities for his ruthless brutality. If I had known who that fucker was back at the bar, I would have slit his throat.”
“Something you need to tell us, Max?” Even Hawk was being wary of this new scarier version of the Brother.
Max stepped back from Highdive, letting him stand. He ran a hand through his hair and seemed to come to a decision. “Mitchel Thomas is a ghost known as the Recluse. He isn’t just a slaver. He is an information broker with dirt on important people throughout the world. He sells women to the rich and twisted of the world, but the price isn’t primarily money. He uses the information and power he gets to keep him and his inner circle untouchable. To think he’s been hiding in Wyoming and not some tropical private island is a joke.”
“How do you know this shit and why didn’t you tell us earlier?”
“I didn’t know at first. When Tek started searching, a few of my old contacts reached out. They made it very clear that if we find and take out this guy under the radar, parties will be thrown in our honor. And if we can turn over any information we find, we can set the price. Hell, I didn’t think we had a chance. The recluse has had a three-million-dollar price on his head for over five years and no one has collected. I tried to find the fucker myself when I was still active after encountering firsthand some of his handiwork. Honestly, I was happy we were able to save one of his victims before she became another empty shell. The women he turns out—well, they’re broken dolls both physically and mentally that no glue can put back together.”
Max’s words hit Sharp on a visceral level. The possibility of his Pixie being one of many broken women was almost more than he could handle.
“What now?” Highdive rubbed his jaw. He didn’t necessarily seem contrite, but he had dropped the attitude.
Hawk looked them all over and Sharp wished he was inside his friend’s mind. He never envied Hawk’s position of having to balance the needs of the Club as a whole over the needs of his Brothers.
“The Dark Sons are going to erase two motherfuckers from existence.”
Chapter 29
I’m more confused than a chameleon in a bag of Skittles.
Pixie stood in the Clubhouse kitchen trying to work out her frustration, punching and kneading the bread dough in front of her. The last twenty-four hours had been confusing to say the least. These men were enough to drive any woman insane. After insulting and attacking her they believed halfhearted apologies where the words ‘I’m sorry’ that might as well have been replaced with ‘suck it up’ would make her feel better. She had hoped and expected more from Sharp; the quick kiss he had thrown in before leaving was lackluster at best. Highdive’s apology had been unexpected and sounded more like a sullen teen being forced to mumble the words.
Then the men had disappeared into their secret meeting all night and pulled in all the women and children. Now they had everyone on lockdown in the Clubhouse with no explanation. They had all left except for a few Brothers and the prospects. The single clue she had as to what was going on was a quick kiss from Sharp and muttered promise that it should all be over soon.
She slammed her fists into the dough with a frustrated growl.
“Ah, the
war cry of the worried woman.” Val’s southern twang was comforting and teasing.
“How can you deal with it?” Pixie set aside the last loaf she had been working on to rise.
“A lifetime of practice. What has a burr in your britches? That we’re on lockdown or is it something else?”
“This whole thing is my fault. And God only knows what they are out there doing right now. Grinder was hurt because of me. What if someone else gets hurt? Or worse?” She flattened the bread again, the angry punch emphasizing her words. She would give almost anything to have Mitchel get his due and the women trapped in that hell to be free. But she would give up her vengeance if it meant Sharp would be home safe with her.
Val pulled up a stool to the large island where Pixie had a few dozen loaves of bread dough laid out and sat. “You know, this isn’t the first time these men have been in danger. It won’t be the last time either.” She leaned forward and smiled. “I grew up in my daddy’s Club – Soldiers of Fury – and all I saw was gruff men who liked to ride motorcycles. But that was a childhood fantasy. When I was nineteen a rival Club got angry because they wanted SoF to merge with them and my daddy, as president, said no. Apparently the SoF sold arms and ran protection for the local prostitutes but had no interest in getting into drugs. They were a small Club, maybe sixty members in all of Georgia.”
Pixie paused in her baking. “What happened?”
“I was going to school to be a nurse and had no idea what was going on. They snatched me as I was heading to my car. The plan was to force Big Daddy into doing what they wanted.”
Pixie sat down next to her friend. “So, your father saved you?”
“In a way. The SoF had been friendly with the Dark Sons for years and Dozer and I had been flirting. My daddy called Breaker and got the Dark Sons to ride down to help.”
“I haven’t met Breaker.”
Val gave Pixie’s hand a squeeze. “He’s the Dark Sons’ National president—he lives in Texas. All the SoF and about seventy Dark Sons rode in to save me. Dozer was there and claimed me that day. But my blinders were well and truly gone. Our men may have jobs, pay taxes, and do amazing charity work but they are laws unto themselves. For each other, for us, their women and children, they will lie, cheat and kill and damn the consequences.”
“But–” Pixie struggled with what to say.
“But nothin’.” Val made a zip it motion. “You put that patch on your back, so you have to choose. Pretend you don’t know what kind of man you have,” Val gestured at Maria and Anna, “or embrace you have a badass man who loves you. Either way, you have a life no civilian woman can understand and a lot of scary men at your back whenever you need them.”
Val’s story hit home with Pixie. Knowing the woman had her own experiences with darkness made her feel less alone. She loved Sharp and if that meant living in a dangerous world, he was worth it. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know about the danger but maybe she could accept it.
“Thank you. I’m still going to worry, but I think I get it.”
Val clapped her hands together like she was cleaning off flour. “Well, my work here is done. Now to check on the rest of the ladies and make sure the kids believe this is all a grand adventure.”
“I guess you’re the den mother?”
“Well someone has to be and since God hasn’t seen fit to give me babies of my own, I figure it might as well be me.”
Val’s words were tinged with a longing that Pixie wished she could do something about. At twenty-nine Val wasn’t old but since her and Dozer had been together for more than ten years, Pixie assumed there must be something more to the story.
She checked her phone to see if Sharp had texted, but her screen was blank. The Brothers had left this morning without any indication of when they would be back. She slipped the first three loaves into the oven, setting the timer. Impulsively she picked up the phone and sent off a quick text:
I love you. Be careful.
It was a few moments before she got a response:
Love you too, darlin’
His words made her feel like she was floating, and she decided she had moped enough. She was going to take a shower to wash off all the flour in her hair from her vigorous beating of the dough. She asked Maria to pull the bread out if she wasn’t down in time and headed upstairs.
Her shoulders itched and she knew without looking Kickstand followed her. Even though the prospect was doing as he had been told, it still set off some primal part of her brain. He looked at her differently than the others, always stood too close when they were alone, and the image of him jacking off while looking at her was burned into her memory. It wasn’t the act itself, but the disgust and hunger in his eyes.
Pixie tried for polite. “You don’t have to follow me. There is no other way down. I’m going to freshen up, nothing else.”
“There are other ways down. And you’re the prize everyone wants, so it would be stupid to leave you unguarded.”
Other ways? She had cleaned this entire floor and there was only the one staircase. Did the man think she was going to jump out a window? When they got to the door of the bedroom she and Sharp used when staying here, he was less than a half step behind her, making her feel like prey.
He needed to back off and when Sharp got back, she would beg him never to leave her alone with Kickstand again. Rational or not, the prospect made her uncomfortable. She slowed to tell him he couldn’t be in the room when she showered. She would use a chair to block the door to be safe.
When she tried to stop, he pushed her forward, his hand wrapping around and covering her mouth. She started to struggle and bit down on his hand, right as a sharp pinch at her neck was followed by fire running through her veins.
He spun her around and tried to hit her with a backhand that she dodged before her legs buckled out from under her. She tried to scream, but the muscles in her chest were like lead and it came out so weak she doubted anyone would hear it. As darkness closed over her, Kickstand’s voice chased her into nightmares.
“If you weren’t worth fifty-thousand-dollars untouched, I would make you pay for that, bitch. Maybe Caravaggio will give me a go at you before he fucks that pretty body up too much.”
Chapter 30
Violence may not be the only answer but sometimes it is the right one.
Sweat rolled down Sharp’s neck and onto his black BDUs as he crouched outside the one-story warehouse. Being dressed in black, full-combat armor including a helmet and skull painted faceguard meant all of them were feeling the afternoon heat. The gear would help keep them and their identities safe but it was far from comfortable. Sharp led thirty Brothers who were ready to wipe out every piece of scum in this so-called training center while Hawk led fifteen to take out the location Pixie labeled ‘home’. They had split up to reduce the chance any of the slavers would escape the hard justice that was coming their way.
The outer guards had been taken care of earlier and the external surveillance disabled. The Dark Sons needed to move soon before the gap in security was discovered.
“I’ve got eyes inside,” Tek said over their coms. “Twenty-two hostiles roaming ground level. Five hostiles in the basement with over twenty lambs. Bravo Plan in thirty seconds on my mark.”
Sharp did a quick check of his weapons and felt Rooster’s hand on his shoulder, signaling his readiness to move. Two of his Brothers quickly moved off to get into position for the secondary infiltration plan they had designed. Five men with him would take the front while the back, sides and loading dock area would be taken by the others. Smoke had already set up the water charge with a thirty second timer.
“Mark.”
Max started the timer as the five Dark Sons crouched behind a blast shield Smoke had given them. The explosion reverberated through the air, echoed in the distance by four other explosions. The smell of gunpowder kicked Sharp’s senses into high gear and on the adrenaline rush he entered the building with his Brothers at his back.
&nb
sp; Sharp sighted left and fired, killing the first man before he had time to raise his gun. Six more men who were scrambling for cover looked like they had been seated at a card table in the middle of the large room. Cages and crates lined the walls and posts stuck out of the floor with chains dangling from metal rings. A naked woman was manacled to the one closest to the table.
Moving quickly, Sharp took out another man who managed to give off a single wild shot. Max fired from his right and Smoke from his left, taking down two more. Sharp moved quickly, pulling his unit to the left, trying to reduce the chance of the woman getting caught in the crossfire.
Sharp succeeded in taking out the leg of another hostile when the idiot didn’t fully get himself behind cover. Pain punched his shoulder blade as a bullet impacted with his Kevlar vest. Smoke and Max kept firing as he spun to see a hostile less than five feet away coming out from between the crates. Before he was fully turned around, Rooster smashed his AR into the man’s face, then fired twice as he fell.
“Fucking Breachers.” Max shook his head teasing. “A gun is for shooting, not bashing.”
Rooster flipped him the middle finger before shrugging and bringing his gun back to the ready. “I shot him.”
“Focus, boys,” Dozer growled, as he and Colt broke off to the right, their goal now to secure the terrified woman curled up against the floor.
Sharp rolled his shoulder, letting the sharp ache roll through him. The bruise would be spectacular but not anything that would hinder his movement. Using the clutter, they moved in on the remaining three men.
“Zone three clear heading to Zone one ,” Ink’s Texan drawl came over coms.
Sharp and his men fired at the boxes their targets were hiding behind.
“Zone two clear lambs secure.” Sharp felt relief at Gear’s calm words.
“Zone four clear minor casualties.”
