Rock Me Deeper (Licks Of Leather Book 5)

by Jenna Jacob

  “Syd,” McCoy yelled, but I was already sprinting toward Ozzy. “God dammit! Jennings, catch my phone. Then redial the last number I called and tell Agent Steel that if that fucking chopper isn’t here in the next two minutes my men are going to be assassinated.”

  “What the fuck are you doing, bro?” Ozzy grabbed my shirt as I slowly opened the door beside him.

  “Get down and stay down. If anything happens to me, make sure Caris gets everything…my house, money…everything. Understood?”

  “Dude. You can’t—”

  I slipped out the door and quietly closed it behind me before he could finish. Crouching low to the ground, I used the sculpted shrubbery as cover while I moved to the south side of the house, opposite the sniper near the studio.

  Relieved that Zattman’s sharpshooters hadn’t put a cap in my ass, I rounded the corner of the lodge and proceeded to trample the fuck out of the decorative sawgrass shrouding the side of the house. When I reached the front of the lodge, I prayed the snipers who had their lasers pinned on Cole and Brad didn’t notice me. If not, Caris wouldn’t be slinging another plate of food at Trudy’s. But then she wouldn’t have been a waitress if I hadn’t failed her the first time.

  Wiping the sweat from my eyes, I shoved my shame and fear down deep, gripped my Magnum tight, and dropped to my stomach at the front of the house. I commando-crawled across the decorative rocks and slithered between the prickly yucca plants until I was almost at the porch steps.

  “I’m running out of patience, Mr. McCoy,” Zattman snarled.

  The cocky bastard was standing out in the open, strutting back and forth along the driveway as if he were invincible. Using my elbows, I slowly inched my way to the sidewalk and lowered my head.

  “What the fuck?” Quinn hissed, catching sight of me.

  I pressed a finger to my lips, then lifted my Magnum and waited for Zattman to turn and start walking toward me again.

  The first time I killed a man had been purely for revenge. He was an animal that needed to be put down. I now had another animal in my sights, one who’d inflicted unbearable horrors on women I loved. And like the monster before him, there was zero guilt or remorse pumping through my veins, only ice-cold conviction.

  Still wearing a cocky smile, Zattman turned and started my way. A bizarre calm settled over me. My heart rate slowed, as did time itself. I aligned the gun’s sight on the sweet spot between his demented eyes and slid my finger over the trigger.

  “Okay, Zattman,” McCoy yelled from the front door. “Call off your snipers and let my men come down. I’ll bring out the ladies.”

  Zattman jumped and ducked back behind the Escalade.

  Son of a bitch! What the fuck is McCoy doing?

  “Not so fast,” Zattman warned.

  Snapping my head toward the door, I saw Caris a couple feet behind him. Her shoulders were back, and she held her head high, but her eyes were brimmed in fear. I couldn’t risk telling her to hide. Zattman or one of his henchmen would hear me, and I’d be dead an instant later. Instead, I made a noise like a bullfrog. It was the sound I’d used to alert Caris I was returning to our hideaway in the woods.

  She jerked her head as the pulse point at the base of her neck hammered wildly, then her eyes landed on me, lying motionless at the base of the porch.

  “What’s the holdup, Zattman?” McCoy baited.

  “I need a show of good faith, Mr. McCoy.”

  “Not sure how much more faith I can show you. I’m ready to bring out the women you wanted.”

  “Send Miss Burton out first. I have a bit of unfinished business I need to wrap up before I have fun with the others.”

  “Let my men go and I’ll send her out.”

  The fuck you will. I was ready to blow McCoy’s brains out for even thinking about using Caris as a bargaining chip.

  “If they drop their guns, I’ll let them climb down from the trees and join you inside. But let me warn you, if they so much as breathe wrong, or look at their discarded weapons, I’ll wave my hand and a hail of bullets will rain down on them.”

  “You mean the dickless wonders you got hiding in the bushes instead of standing beside you like real men?”

  “Tsk, tsk, Mr. McCoy,” Zattman scolded. “Aren’t your dickless wonders hiding up in trees, too? I must say, for such a decorated war hero, your verbal sparring skills are seriously lacking.”

  “Huh, they were wrong.” McCoy chuckled.

  “I’ll bite,” Zattman cackled. “Who was wrong about what?”

  McCoy didn’t respond, simply cocked his head and exhaled in relief. In the distance, I heard the blades of a chopper coming in fast and hot.

  “The shrinks Mommy and Daddy sent you to when you were ten,” McCoy began, in an even tone as he motioned for Caris and Mia to move back from the door. Caris blew me a kiss, then turned and raced away. “You know, the ones who said you needed to be institutionalized because you were crazier than a shit house rat.”

  That explains a hell of a lot.

  An unholy snarl tore from Zattman’s chest as he stormed out from behind the SUV and yanked a gun from behind his back. As he stormed toward the porch, blind with rage, I lined him up in my sights again.

  From my periphery, I saw McCoy shove the screen door open, rush onto the porch, and drop to a knee as he raised his gun.

  Zattman kept on advancing, his face pinched in rage. He was oblivious to the thumping blades of the chopper vibrating the earth and my chest. Oblivious to the rapid-fire of fifty-caliber machine guns echoing from the back of the lodge. Oblivious to the bullets shredding the trees near the studio. Oblivious to the screams of his goons as their dead bodies pummeled to the ground.

  I prayed Cole and Brad had heeded McCoy’s instructions and had abandoned their posts in the trees in front of the lodge, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off Zattman or the sick, satisfied smile blooming over his face as he glanced up at the shredded leaves raining through the air.

  Taking full advantage of his distraction, I tightened my hand on the grip of the gun, launched to my feet, and pointed it in his face. Surprise replaced his gloating grin. Pure evil filled his eyes and an inhuman sneer curled his lips.

  “I killed you,” he screamed indignantly.

  As he raised his arm to shoot me, I squeezed the trigger of my Magnum.

  The hollow point stamped a hole between his eyes, tore through his demented brain, and blew out the back of his head. Blood and gray matter exploded air as Zattman’s body lifted into the air and landed with a thud on the sidewalk.

  Magnum still aimed on the monster, I stepped toward his lifeless body and kicked his gun away. McCoy rushed in beside me, clapping me on the back and congratulating me. With a snarl, I turned and punched him in the jaw, gleefully cheering as he landed on his ass in the yard.

  “That’s for using Caris as bait, you motherfucker.”

  As he clutched his jaw and glared daggers at me, three black SUV’s blazed down the driveway before screeching to a halt. The helicopter overhead circled, then turned and flew back over the lodge, as a dozen men clad in dark suits poured from the SUVs.

  I was relieved that Zattman was dead.

  Relieved that I’d avenged Caris, Mia, and the other women he’d tortured, terrorized, and killed.

  Relieved that the nightmare was over.

  I should have been ecstatic and cheering like the others around me, who were clapping me on the back, congratulating me, and showering me with praise. But I wasn’t.

  The realization that the fucked-up kid, the juvenile delinquent and cold-blooded killer I’d foolishly thought I’d erased, was still alive and breathing.

  The happy mask, the blistering spotlights, the thousands of screaming fans were nothing but a fantastical curtain I’d created in order to stay sane and survive.

  In reality, I was every bit as much of a monster as the cocksucker I’d just killed.

  My hand trembled as I holstered my Magnum. And as tears of shame stung my eyes, I
turned and ran toward the woods.

  Chapter 20

  Caris

  “Zattman’s dead. He’s finally dead,” Quinn yelled with glee as he raced through the lodge. “Syd just blew his fucking head off.”

  “Is Syd okay?” I called out.

  “Not a scratch on him.”

  “Oh, thank god. I need to see him…touch him…hold him.”

  Body and voice trembling, I released Mia and crawled out from under the sturdy dining room table. When gunfire had started erupting, we dove beneath it and clung to each other.

  Wearing a look of panic, Ozzy rushed into the room and lifted Mia into his arms. My legs felt like rubber as I passed the couple and hurried to the front door. A dozen men in suits were milling around the yard. McCoy was helping a limping Brad toward the lodge as Cole followed, cradling his arm to his chest.

  I stepped out onto the porch and peered around the corner. Zattman’s body lay on the sidewalk in a pool of blood and other stuff I didn’t want to exam too closely.

  Suddenly, Syd turned and looked right through me. His face was pale, but his eyes…his eyes were glazed and haunted.

  “Syd,” I called to him as I started down the stairs, but he didn’t even look at me, didn’t acknowledge me at all. He simply sprinted toward the woods. “Syd!”

  Panic-stricken, I raced after him but quickly lost sight of him in the dark, dense foliage. As I screamed his name and followed the sound of his feet thundering against the ground, branches and leaves slapped my face.

  Was he distraught about killing Zattman? No, that made no sense. Syd had zero compunction when he’d killed Emma Halloran’s chickens. Of course, killing an animal for food and a man, even a monster like Zattman, were two totally different things.

  Syd’s footsteps were now far off in the distance. Fearing I’d soon lose all sense of his direction, I started running, only to trip over a vine and hit the ground with a teeth-jarring thud. Cursing under my breath, I picked myself up, dusted off my hands, and realized the forest had turned eerily silent.

  Had Syd finally stopped running? Maybe. But I had no clue where he was. Pressing on, I continued my search, pausing several times to call his name. But he didn’t answer.

  I’d gone another fifty yards, maybe more, when a muffled sound I’d never heard stopped me in my tracks. I cocked my head, held my breath, and listened intently.

  Whatever was making the strange noise was still far away but directly in front of me. Focused on the rhythm of the repeating sound, I quietly made my way past low-hanging branches thick with leaves. I stepped out into a small clearing and scanned the darkness. Across the opening at the base of a big oak tree, something moved. I had no clue what wildlife roamed the Texas wilderness, but for some reason, bobcat popped into my head.

  I was just about to pull my gun, turn, and retreat when the shadow at the base of the tree threw back its head and issued a mournful, “Oh, god.”

  It wasn’t a bobcat. It was Syd. He was crying. The sounds I’d heard had been his sobs.

  He killed a man because of me, and it’s tearing him apart.

  Swallowing the lump of anguish-mixed guilt wedged in my throat, I hurried across the clearing and sank to my knees in front of him. In the moonlight, I could see the depth of torment clawing at him. It was etched on his face. I wrapped my arms around him, wanting to take his pain away, but Syd angrily shoved me away.

  “Go back to the lodge, Caris,” he barked. His voice was thick with anger, embarrassment, and pain.

  “I’m not going anywhere without you.” I clenched my jaw, sat back on my butt, and hugged my legs. “Talk to me, Syd.”

  “What do you want me to say?” he asked, wiping the snot from his nose and palming his tears away. “That I’m a joke, a fraud, and a monster?”

  My heart nearly stopped. Why was he saying such horrible things about himself?

  “You’re not. You’re a caring, compassionate—”

  “Shut up, Caris,” he snarled, spittle flying. I reared back, feeling the blow of his rejection all the way to my soul. “You don’t know the real me. You only know the parts I wanted you to see…you and the rest of the world. But that’s not who I am. Not even close.”

  He was wrong yet right. I knew the boy from Diamond City, and I knew the compassionate man before me, but I didn’t know who Syd had been before we met. I didn’t know how he’d ended up in the foster system, like me. He’d never shared that part of himself, simply blocked it off as if it didn’t exist. I’d never badgered him to tell me for fear he’d leave one day and never come back. In the end, he did, but I’d survived.

  I was no longer a scared little girl. It was past time to push him, to force him to open up and purge his darkest secrets.

  “Then tell me,” I demanded. “Introduce me to the real Sydney Joseph Wilston.”

  “No. He’s an animal, a fucking brutal animal.”

  “What did you do, Syd? How did you end up in the system like me?” He clenched his jaw and shot me a murderous glare. “Did your dad beat you? Sell you to pedophiles to rape and abuse you?”

  “I didn’t have a dad. And if any man tried to ass rape me, I would have killed him.”

  “Did you have a mom?” Sadness rippled over his face as he issued a terse nod. “How did she die, Syd?”

  “It doesn’t matter. She’s dead!” His vehement yell echoed through the trees.

  I wasn’t a shrink, but I knew his mom’s death was the crux of what was eating at him.

  “It does matter,” I whispered knowing now that he’d kept this story locked inside for so long, it had grown into a cancer that was eating him alive. “She was your mom. She gave you life. She gave you love, too. Didn’t she?”

  Someone had taught Syd how to love. Whether he’d confess the truth to me remained to be seen. But when he stared off over my shoulder, into the night, I steeled myself for what he would finally say.

  “She did…when she wasn’t high as fuck.”

  A knife of understanding pierced my heart. At the same time, puzzle pieces of our past started snapping into place.

  We’d broken into a house on the lake one hot September night. While Syd filled a trash bag with canned goods from the kitchen, I’d hurried down the hall in search of feminine products and spied a bottle of pain pills on the sink. I’d had the bright idea to sell them to my foster brothers, and just as I’d picked up the bottle, Syd entered the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking these. We can sell them.”

  “We’re not gonna sell drugs.”

  “But we can make five or six dollars a pill.”

  “If you start selling drugs, we’re done…we’re through. You’ll be on your own.”

  “Fine. Jesus.”

  I’d slammed the bottle on the counter, and we’d left with our bounty..

  Syd was still gazing at nothing, lost in his own memories, when I reached out and cupped the back of his hand.

  “Tell me,” I softly whispered.

  “We lived in a trailer on the outskirts of Omaha, Nebraska. Each time the welfare check arrived, Mom would buy a few cans of soup, a couple loaves of bread, and spend the rest on heroin. There was always a parade of drug dealers and lovers coming in and out of the house, day and night. I didn’t know that other people lived any differently until I was in the fifth grade. Tommy VanMeter invited me to come to his house and play one day after school. So, I did. It was the first time I saw how a real family lived. His house was small, but it was so clean. There was food in the refrigerator and his mom wasn’t in a T-shirt and sweats but real clothes. Her hair was clean and shiny and brushed, and she laughed and smiled a lot. When Tommy’s dad came home, he smiled really wide, then hugged and kissed him and ruffled his hair. He asked him about school and what they’d served us for lunch. Asked him a million questions that no one ever asked me.”

  I sat quiet as a church mouse, listening to Syd spill his story, fighting back tears for his heartbreaking life.
Lines of anguish marred his handsome face, and I knew more horrific details were bubbling up inside him. Swallowing tightly, I pinched my lips together as he continued.

  “When Mr. VanMeter took me home, I ran inside to show Mom the magnet Tommy’s dad had helped me make. My mom was on her knees in front of the couch, snorting lines of powder off some big, ugly biker dude’s cock. Then sucked it deep inside her mouth. When he saw me standing there, an evil smile spread over his fat face. He still had a couple of teeth, but they were rotten and black. He motioned me over while my mom’s mouth bobbed up and down his dick. When I shook my head, he pried my mom off his cock and sprinkled some more powder on it. Then he told me to come fill my nose and suck him hard.”

  Images of Syd’s innocence being ripped away in such a vile and revolting way made my stomach pitch. Biting back the bile rising in my throat, I refused to vomit. Refused to interrupt him. Syd had to purge these abhorrent memories from his system before he could start to heal.

  “Mom was so high she didn’t even know I was in the room until the prick started talking to me. Thankfully, she wasn’t completely under the influence. She started yelling and cursing at the bastard. He stood and tucked his dick away, then yanked her up by her hair and started punching her. I was so scared he was going to kill her that I ran next door and told the old man to call the police. He must have known my mom was a junkie, because he said if he called the police, they’d take me away. Then he told me to stay put, grabbed a shotgun, and ran out the door. A few minutes later, I heard a loud bang. Next thing I know he’s dragging my mom inside the trailer. She was covered in blood, but the old man led her down the hall to his shower.

  “The cops never came. The old man made a bed for me on the couch, and while I pretended to sleep, he and my mom went back to our trailer to clean up the mess. I don’t know what they did with the dude’s body. I never asked, because I didn’t care. She started laying off the drugs after that. It was nice. Summer came and we sometimes had picnics with the old man next door. There was more food in the house, and I thought we might get to start living like a real family, like Tommy’s. But…”