All the Sky (Signal Bend Series)

by Fanetti, Susan

  None of the Horde was anything like a munitions expert. Vic had been. But now, they had nobody who understood explosives or even how to tell if something was an explosive. The only thing to do was to open the box and see. If it was a bomb, maybe just that would trip it.

  “Get out of here, brothers. I got it.”

  “No, boss,” Show stepped to the bar. “We got your back.”

  “This thing is hot, we’re all dead.”

  Len said, “Yeah.” He stepped up, too.

  Not one of them would leave his brothers, no matter who they’d leave behind. Havoc made it four, clustered around the box. “Let’s see what we see, then.”

  “Let’s do.” Isaac pulled out his large, sharp pocketknife and slit open the box. It didn’t blow, but Isaac proceeded carefully. There was a medium-sized envelope, like for a greeting card, on the top, over what seemed to be a stuffing of plastic grocery bags. Isaac lifted the envelope out, moving slowly at every turn, and set it aside. Then he eased the plastic aside and looked into the box.

  “Oh, holy fuck. Oh, fuck.”

  Show looked in and reared back. Havoc was standing next to him but couldn’t see. When he tried to lean forward, around Show, the VP grabbed him and pulled him back. “No, Hav. No. Fuck.”

  While Havoc grappled with Show, Len looked in, “Oh, God. Oh, my God.”

  Havoc knew it was bad, and that it was worst for him. That was clear. But what the fuck was in that fucking box? He couldn’t process anything but a panic that was roaring up his spine like nothing he’d experienced in his life. Was Cory hurt? Nolan? What? Show wouldn’t let him go, so he finally sent a hard jab into the bigger man’s gut, knocking his wind out of him and getting him to let go. He pushed Len and Isaac away and looked into the box, fighting against their hands as they still tried to pull him away.

  It wasn’t Cory. It wasn’t Nolan.

  It was Sophie. His baby sister.

  Her head. In the box.

  With a roar huge but yet insufficient to express his anguish, he pulled his arms free of his brothers’ hold and tenderly lifted her small, blonde head out of the plastic, cradling it to his chest.

  ~oOo~

  At some point, they’d taken her head from him. He didn’t remember. He was sitting on the couch in Isaac’s office. He didn’t remember coming back here. His head was too full of his sister. Sophie. Little Sophie. Since she was born, he’d wanted to keep her safe. She used to get so mad at him for getting in her way. But she was little and pretty and delicate, and he wanted her safe.

  He knew who it was. It could only be one person. One person in the world who would do something like that in that particular way. So when Isaac came and sat next to him, he knew what he would say.

  Isaac didn’t say anything for a long time, though. Just sat next to him, staring at the floor between his feet. Finally, without looking up, he said his piece. “I’m gonna tell you what we know, and I’m gonna ask you to sit quiet and listen. Then you tell me what you want. Right?”

  Havoc nodded.

  “It’s Halyard. Don’t know where he’s been for all this time, but he’s back. There was a letter in that envelope. This is him answering for his daughter. Calling it right out, on fancy paper with his initials, full signature, all of it. Picked Sophie because she’s of an age with his girl, he says.” Now he looked up and turned his head to face Havoc. Havoc lifted his eyes and stared at his President. “There was something else in that envelope. A flash drive, for a computer. Had a video on it. I’ve seen it. I don’t want you to see it. Won’t stop you, but you’d be better off to let it go.”

  “It shows it happening.” Havoc didn’t have to ask; he knew. If Halyard wanted revenge, he would record it. Of course he would. They’d made him watch what they’d done to his daughter.

  “Yeah. That’s what it shows. Trust me, brother. You don’t need that in your head.”

  “Don’t want it in my head.”

  “Good. What do you want to do?”

  This was a new debt. They’d killed Marissa Halyard for her part in getting Show’s girl killed so hard. That was a just kill—brutal, but just. A debt repaid. Retaliating for that, and after years, was an escalation. But he had too much left to lose to escalate with Halyard. He didn’t know if he could risk lifting Cory’s head out of the next box. “Tell my folks. Bury my sister. I don’t know about the rest.”

  “Fair enough. I’ve got Dom trying to get a bead on Halyard. We need to see if he resurfaced for more than just this. I don’t get the timing.”

  Neither did Havoc, but he didn’t fucking care.

  ~oOo~

  He couldn’t make himself leave the clubhouse. If he left, he’d have to tell his parents that he got Sophie killed. He had no idea how his father would take the news, or whether he’d have to beat the old man dead for not giving a shit. He knew his mother’s heart would break.

  He could go to Cory, but he didn’t trust himself near her. There was so much poison in his blood, he was afraid he’d kill the next thing he touched. He’d been drinking, trying to find some kind of calm, but he wasn’t even getting a buzz on. Like the rage was eating the booze before it could move into his blood.

  Everybody was giving him his berth, and that was good. Or it was bad. He didn’t know. He felt lonely and furious and impotent and sick. Guilty and lost and sad. So fucking sad. He was supposed to protect her. He’d known that goddamn interview sounded wrong. Dom had traced her cell, and Show, Isaac, and Len had ridden out to check it. They wouldn’t let him go, and he hadn’t fought hard. He knew he was murder waiting to happen. So he stayed back and drank. They’d found her car, with her purse and cell, parked in a lot of the mall in Springfield. When they’d told him, Havoc had known—that interview. A setup, and he’d known it was wrong, but he’d let her talk him out of protecting her. It was his fault in more ways than one.

  Finally, needing some kind of release, he went back to his room and called Bart.

  He answered right away, and Hav did feel a little bit of calm. For years, Bart had been the one person he’d bothered to really talk to. “Hey, brother. Everything good?”

  “No, man. No.” He felt his throat tighten and his eyes burn, but he didn’t cry, hadn’t cried since he was a boy, lying over the saddle rack with his Wranglers and Hanes around his ankles, waiting for the next lash of the buggy whip. He swallowed back the knot and told Bart what had happened.

  “It was Halyard. Back from whatever hidey-hole he crawled into. Don’t know why he’s back. Maybe just for this.”

  “Fuck, Hav. Oh, God. I’m so fucking sorry. Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I love you, man. I’m sorry.”

  Through his obscuring fog of grief and fury, Havoc realized that Bart wasn’t simply offering condolences.

  He was apologizing.

  “You knew.” Havoc’s mind spun and then just stopped.

  “No. No, man. I didn’t know this.” He stopped, and the silence between them dropped like lead. “I knew Halyard was back. Showed up in a routine intel check I ran for the Scorps about a week ago. He’s working with the Perro Blanco cartel—the people we work with. You, too—they’re the source of the weed you’re running.”

  “You knew.”

  “Hav, listen. I went to Hoosier and told him about Halyard and reminded him of the history. Hoosier ordered me to keep quiet. I told him I couldn’t, that I had to tell you what I found, and he asked me if I was willing to put my old lady on that line. It’s been killing me, Hav. But Riley—I couldn’t. She’s an innocent. And she’s pregnant. What the Perros could do…I tried to warn Dom, push him to the same intel I found, but I guess he hasn’t found it yet. I tried to do what I could. I had no idea Halyard would do this. If I’d thought…I swear I would have told you. Brother, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Rage was churning Havoc’s stomach into an acidic soup.

  “Fuck. Hav, no. Come on. I love you, brother. Always brothers, right?” He could hear that Bart was crying. Pussy.
>
  Hav ended the call and threw his phone across the room. It bounced off a poster of a vintage Harley and fractured into pieces. Havoc stared at that poster for a long time.

  Then he got up. He went to the Room and collected the sledgehammer he’d earlier used on Mac Evans, exacting repayment for what he’d done to Nolan. Hefting its weight in his hands, he went down to the bays and pulled the vinyl cover off Bart’s 1967 Electro Glide, beautifully restored, black on white, the product of years of loving work and friendship.

  He cocked the hammer over his shoulder like a Louisville Slugger.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Nolan was playing the handheld video game thingy that Isaac and Lilli had given him, so he was pretty much ignoring Cory. She was watching The Bachelor, because that’s what was on the television and the remote was attached to Nolan’s bed. She’d asked twice if he’d change the channel, but he was engrossed. So she watched the stupid show and thought about how wonderful it would be to get her kid home and away from the hospital. If only so she’d have something to do.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she smiled, thinking it would be Havoc. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a number she knew. She almost ignored it, but then she remembered that Havoc had told her that the club used ‘burner’ phones, and the numbers changed a lot, so she should answer unfamiliar calls. So she answered.

  “Hey, doll. It’s Len.” He was the only one who called her ‘doll,’ and his gruff, smoke-roughened voice was distinctive anyway, so she hadn’t needed him to identify himself.

  But he’d never called her before.

  “Is Hav okay?”

  That got Nolan’s attention. He dropped the game to his lap and watched her, his brows drawn tightly together.

  “He’s not hurt.”

  She looked at Nolan and nodded, and he mouthed Phew. She nodded at that, too, and smiled.

  “So what’s up, Len?”

  “We need you here, doll. Hav’s not hurt, but his sister is…she’s dead. He’s havin’ some trouble. Maybe needs you.”

  She thought of Sophie. She hadn’t had a chance to get to know her much, but she was sweet and Havoc loved her deeply. And she was young. Too young. Cory opened her mouth to ask what happened, but she was standing next to Nolan, and she decided that it was better to get to Havoc and let Nolan think everything was okay, at least for now. “Okay, Len, I’m on my way.”

  “Good girl. We’re all here.”

  She hung up and put a smile on for Nolan. “Havoc needs me to run an errand for him, so I’m going to head out early tonight. That okay?”

  Nolan shrugged. “Sure. No problem. Everything okay?”

  “Sure, kiddo. I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, okay?” She brushed his curls from his forehead and kissed him. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  ~oOo~

  When she entered the clubhouse, all the Horde were there, but no one else. No girls, none of the other people that Havoc called ‘hangarounds,’ just the Horde and the Prospects, all sitting at the bar, or on the couches, all with drinks, all quiet. Everybody but Havoc.

  The room wasn’t quiet, however. The air was full of echoing, loud yet oddly muffled crashes, grunts and roars.

  Isaac stood from his place at the bar and came over to her. “Hey, sweetheart. I think you should stay up here with us. Let him work out what he needs to work out.” He took her arm. “Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”

  But she couldn’t just sit here with the Horde, having a drink and listening to Havoc melting down, alone with his grief. She pulled her arm, and Isaac let it go. “Len said he needed me. I want to go back.”

  “He’s torn up, Cory. I don’t know you’re safe back there.”

  “He won’t hurt me.” He loved her. He tried to protect her whether she needed it or not. “He needs me.”

  Isaac’s eyes narrowed, and he considered her. Then, with a curt nod, he said, “Okay. I’ll take you back.” He took her arm again and led her through the Hall and down a long, dim hallway. The sounds of violent struggle—Havoc against something heavy and metal—grew as they approached a set of double doors. Isaac moved to push them open, but Cory pulled on him to stop him.

  “Wait. I want to go in on my own.”

  “Cory…”

  “You can stay here, if you’re so worried. But he doesn’t need an audience.”

  “I’m not an audience, sweetheart. I’m his brother. His President.”

  She squared her shoulders and looked up at him. “And I’m his old lady.” She’d never said those words before—neither had Havoc, in fact. But somehow, she knew they were true, and she knew he would agree.

  He gave her a sad smile. “Yeah. And that’s pretty much a fuckin’ miracle. You tamed the beast once, so okay. I’ll wait out here. You be careful, though. Go slow. Never seen him like this before.”

  She nodded, and Isaac pushed one of the doors open and held it as she walked through.

  Havoc was standing in the middle of the huge room, which was dark but for a row of lights over a long workbench and another light over an exterior door. There were three wide overhead doors, all closed. This looked like some kind of garage. There were what she assumed to be bikes in various stage of completeness, four of them, lined up near the workbench.

  On the floor at Havoc’s feet was another—or it had been another. Now it was a pile of crumpled metal, a pool of fluids oozing out from beneath. The room reeked of gasoline and motor oil. There were chunks and shards of metal flying around the room as Havoc swung a huge sledgehammer down into the pile, over and over again. He was running sweat and beet red. With every downward swing, he roared—his voice had gone rough, and Cory could tell that soon it would leave him entirely. But he was showing no indication that he was ready to stop or even slow.

  She stepped toward him, her eyes on the sledge, trying to give wide radius to the swinging head. A piece of metal hit her arm, leaving a stinging scratch, but it hadn’t broken the skin. Still, she tried to keep an eye out for debris, too.

  “Hav.” Her voice failed her, so she coughed a little and tried again. “Hav.”

  No response. She came closer and spoke more loudly. “Havoc.”

  He stopped as he was bringing the hammer to his shoulder again. Without turning he growled, “Get out of here.”

  “I heard. I’m so sorry. I’m here.” Taking advantage of his stillness, she took two steps toward him. She felt like she was approaching a wild animal.

  He turned his head then, glaring at her over his shoulder. His eyes were wild and black, and his face was bloody from several scratches and cuts, probably from flying pieces of metal. Blood and sweat had run together to turn his face into a red mask of pain, dripping into his beard.

  “Get the fuck away from me. Get the fuck away from me. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you at all.” He turned away.

  That hurt; it slashed at her like talons at her heart, but she disregarded the pain and the words as lies his grief was telling. She persevered. He was not moving, so she took the steps left to bring her to him.

  “I’m not leaving you, Hav. I love you. I’m here for you. I’m with you.” She put her hand on his upper arm, hot and slick with sweat, the muscles bulging from his exertions. He was still holding the sledgehammer, cocked for his next blow to the dead motorcycle on the floor in front of them.

  “I said LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” He spun on her, and she had time to see the hammer coming, but no time to get out of its way.

  ~oOo~

  Cory woke in a hospital room. She knew where she was before she’d opened her eyes. The smell. For a split second, she thought she’d dozed off in Nolan’s room, but no, she hadn’t. As she opened her eyes and her vision cleared, she realized where she was—the ER, she guessed. She could tell because she was on a gurney and the room was very small and utilitarian, no thought of anyone spending an extended amount of time in it.

  She thought she was alone at first, and she didn’t know why she
was there at all. Her head hurt horribly, like the worst migraine ever. Too much pain to bother with trying to figure things out. She let her eyes close, but as they did, she realized she wasn’t alone. She forced her eyes open again to see. A nurse. She tried to talk, but her mouth was dry.

  The nurse turned and smiled. “Well, hello again. Are you with us for real this time? That’s good. Real good. I’ll let the doctor know. We’re about to take you down for some tests, too. Just waiting on some blood work results first.” She patted Cory’s arm. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Water,” she croaked.

  “Sorry, hon. No water until after the tests. The IV is keeping you hydrated, though, don’t you worry.”

  “Water.” Her throat was suddenly killing her.

  The nurse sighed. “Maybe some ice chips. I’ll be right back.”

  Cory was asleep before anyone came back. As she drifted back into darkness, she wondered where Havoc was. Did he know she was here? Why was she here?

  ~oOo~

  When she awoke again, she was in another room, but still an ER room. There was a woman in business dress talking quietly with a young female doctor. Not the one who’d helped Nolan. The woman in business dress had a clipboard. Cory’s first clear thought was that people carrying clipboards were rarely bringing anything good to a situation.

  The doctor looked over and saw that she was awake. “Corinne. How are you feeling?”

  “Head hurts. Thirsty.”

  “I bet. We’ll get you something to drink right away. I need to talk to you first. And then Kathy here would like to talk to you, too. I’m Dr. Callahan.”

  “What happened? Why am I here?”

  The women looked at each other. Dr. Callahan asked, “What do you remember?”