The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Riggs’ brother-in-law also happens to be the late Victor Pastore’s son-in-law. Once an enforcer for the mob, Anthony Bianci retired from a life of crime and opened a boxing gym.

  “Does he still do those self-defense classes at the gym?” I ask, immediately wondering if that’s something Ally might be interested in. Like shooting is therapeutic for her so might be self-defense classes. It would also get her out of the motel and amongst the living and all these idiots off my back.

  “Yeah, of course,” Riggs replies. “The bull is turning itsy bitsy women into prized fighters. Shit, you should see my Kitten. If I’m ever in a fight I’m putting her ass in the ring. On top of a killer swing, the woman can lay a fucker out.”

  “That why you had a black eye three weeks ago?” Jack teases.

  “Man, ain’t nothing but love going on at Casa della Kitty,” Riggs grins. “Talk to me when she’s in the third trimester and looking to hang my balls on a flagpole.”

  Just then Rick pulls into the gated lot and the mood changes from light to lethal in a matter of seconds. Silence falls over us as he steps out of the car and makes his way over to us. Shoving a folder under his arm, he extends his hand out to Jack and tips his chin toward the rest of us.

  “Let’s go inside and talk,” Jack says, leading us into the garage. Wiping his hands on a rag, Stryker drops what he’s doing to join us. We all take a seat around the table and as usual Jack slams the meat mallet before leveling Rick with an intense stare. “Tell me you nailed this cocksucker to a place on the map.”

  “I wish,” Rick mutters, sliding the folder across the table. “I’ve got nothing on Vladimir, but I did find a person of interest.”

  “Don’t fucking tell me this bastard has another girl,” Wolf grunts.

  “No, but he does have a brother.”

  “Igor Yankovich,” Jack reads from a piece of paper. Handing the paper to Blackie, he narrows his eyes at Rick. “What does this mean for us?”

  “Igor owns and operates several underground casinos across the Eastern seaboard and recently purchased a cruise line,” Rick explains. “That might explain why Vladimir is off our radar. If he’s moving through the cruise line and posing as a dealer at one of Igor’s card games he can easily fly under the radar and move whatever he needs to move.”

  “So where are you going with this?” Jack asks angrily. “You’re giving me a bunch of possibilities when I told you I need hard proof of everything.”

  “I’m giving you everything I have,” Rick retorts. “I’ve spent years following this guy, and trust me when I tell you I want him just as bad as you, if not more. I’ve exhausted every possible scenario and this is what I’m going to chase. You can get on the wagon or you can step off, but my gut is telling me Igor is the key to bringing down Vlad.”

  No one says anything and we all just sit there mulling over his words until Jack turns his gaze to me.

  “You’re not going to like what I have to say,” he warns.

  “Then don’t say it,” I retort, bracing a hand on the table in front of me. “If it’s got to do with Ally, don’t fucking say it, Jack,” I add, shaking my head.

  “Ally is our best chance at catching this motherfucker,” he argues.

  “No,” I assert. “We’re not using her pain to go after the guy who fucking caused it all.”

  “No one is using her,” Jack growls. “But like it or not, she’s the only one who can answer the questions we all have. She’s our ticket to Yankovich and at the end of the day you don’t really have a fucking say in the matter. In the end, it’s Ally’s choice on whether she talks or not and I’ll respect whatever she decides, but you need to let me talk to her.”

  Balling my fists, I clench my jaw as I think about what he’s proposing and I know him well enough to know he’s going to do whatever the fuck he wants. He’ll corner Ally with or without my permission. What Jack doesn’t know though, is the last president to fuck with my commitments ended up a rotting corpse in a swamp.

  Wolf clears his throat and turns to Rick.

  “The last time you sat down at this table you said there were three girls other than Ally. Did you get any information on whether they’re alive or not?”

  Turning my attention to Rick, I watch as he stands and takes the folder from Jack. It’s selfish of me to think but I can’t help but hope one of those girls is alive. That way Jack can play the hero, ride to her rescue and ask her all the fucking questions he wants and I don’t have to fucking kill him if he hurts Ally.

  It’s a shame too.

  I like Jack.

  He’s batshit crazy but he’s got heart.

  It’d be a shame for him to end up like King, but if he doesn’t take a step back… What the fuck am I saying? Realizing I’m actually contemplating offing another president for a woman sends a jolt of awareness down my spine and I start to talk myself down.

  Focusing my attention on Rick, I watch him sift through the folder. He pulls out three photographs and passes them around the table. My phone sounds loudly, alerting me of a text message and disrupts the silence. A small part of me is grateful for the interruption because I feel like I’m losing my mind.

  Not to mention the idea of connecting three more faces to this mess fucking makes me sick. Being close to Ally, listening to her as she tells me bits and pieces of her life is enough as it is. Call me a pussy, call me whatever you want, but I don’t think I can bare anymore of this shit.

  Pulling the phone from my pocket, I glance down at Ally’s name and a sense of peace washes over me. It’s crazy what just seeing her name does to me. A minute ago I was plotting Jack’s murder and now I’m smiling because she’s texting me.

  She threw me for another loop earlier when she called me from her new phone. At first I kicked myself because I hadn’t thought of getting her a phone but then I pushed that aside when she told me she discovered her favorite color was red.

  Opening the text message, I let out a laugh and all eyes turn to me.

  Yeah, they think I’m just as fucking nuts as Jack. You know it’s bad when the bipolar guy is looking at you like you got a screw loose.

  “Excuse me,” I tell my brothers. Pushing back my chair I walk across the room.

  Glancing down at the text, I smirk at the selfie she sent me of her hair full of tinfoil and the text asking me to guess the color of her hair. Instead of typing a reply, I call her.

  “What are you doing?” I ask when she answers.

  “Trying to pick up HBO…what does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Smart-ass,” I growl but it loses its effect when it turns into a laugh.

  “Aww, you’re thinking about my ass again. Ain’t that sweet,” she teases.

  At the mention of her ass, I almost whimper. They say abstinence won’t kill a man but I wonder if they had Ally’s ass staring back at them if they might change their tune. Really, I should just quit while I’m ahead and hand in my man card before it gets revoked.

  Who the fuck am I kidding? I’m not ahead of anything. I’m like six fucking steps behind.

  “Did I lose you?” she calls, dragging me away from my own private pity party.

  “No, you said ass and I got sidetracked,” I confess, leaving out I’m fucking horny and jerking off in the shower isn’t cutting it anymore.

  “I’m almost done here then I’m going to the hospital.”

  “All right, I’ll be headed that way soon. If you want I’ll take you home. We can grab something to eat or whatever.”

  Just as long as we’re not stuck in that fucking room. I can’t take it—the scent of coconuts, the way she lays across my body like I’m a fucking pillow—I can’t fucking take it.

  “Under one condition,” she says.

  “What’s that?” I ask regretfully.

  Of course there’s a condition, why wouldn’t there be?

  “Call me darling,” I whisper.

  “Drop the g, baby…it’s darlin’,” I drawl, leaning against the ho
od of a car.

  “God, I bet women drop to their knees when you say that.”

  Picturing Ally on her knees sends me over the edge and I groan.

  “Is that a promise?” I ask, imagining her mouth around my cock, painting it the color of her lips.

  “Are you flirting with me?”

  “No, absolutely not.”

  It’s not a lie, I’m really not flirting with her.

  I’m flirting with fire.

  “You totally are.”

  “Goodbye, Ally,” I grunt, unable to take another minute of this shit. Hastily, I disconnect the call and comb my fingers violently through my hair. Because I’m a fucking asshole and I can’t help myself, I draft a text message back to her and click send.

  Can’t wait to see your hair.

  Yep, I was flirting with fire.

  Before my insanity escalates any further, I shove the phone in my pocket and turn around to face Stryker.

  “Everything okay?” he asks, forcing me back to the situation at hand.

  “Yeah, everything is good. What did I miss?” I question, tipping my chin to the men breaking up the meeting.

  Aside from making me fucking horny, that phone conversation solidified the fact Ally was off limits to everyone.

  Off limits to Jack.

  Off limits to Stryker.

  Off limits to the whole fucking club.

  I guess old habits die hard.

  “Rick showed us projection drawings of the girls he linked to Yankovich. One of them was found dead a couple of years back in Miami. Jack is going to reach out to Rocco because at the time he was running Vic’s nightclub in Miami so he may have some intel.”

  “Christ, this gets worse and worse,” I mutter as my phone dings with a text message.

  “How’s Ally?” Blurting the question, he pulls the baseball hat from his head and swipes his hand over his bald head. Studying him, I can tell he’s genuinely concerned and maybe even a little regretful.

  “She’s coming along,” I reply.

  “I’ve been kicking myself in the ass for not putting two and two together. The truth is…back then I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself. I didn’t think of her as some damsel in distress. I thought every fucking problem was self-created because she was using.”

  “I get it,” I pause for a moment. “I wonder why she never told anyone the truth.”

  “She knew no one would care,” Stryker answers before letting out a sigh. “Anyway, I’m glad she’s opening up to you. Under all that pain, I bet Ally’s a great girl.”

  “Even with the pain weighing her down, she’s pretty great. She’s fucking funny. I mean once you get to know her and realize she isn’t a total pain in the ass, she’ll make you laugh.”

  “Careful, man,” he says with a hint of a smile. “It almost sounds like she’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

  “No,” I argue with a quick shake of my head.

  Bull-fucking-shit.

  “For now,” he says, before patting me on the shoulder. I open my mouth to say something, anything that might make sense as to why Ally has me so twisted but I fall short.

  “Did you know today was her birthday?” I call out, watching as he freezes. Slowly turning back to me, he shakes his head.

  “No, I didn’t,” he replies, and for some reason that makes me feel good. He may have had her on the back of his bike but he never got to celebrate with her. I shouldn’t be bothered by the idea at all. Stryker is head over heels in love with his woman and the sensible part of me knows he’s just feeling guilty for using Ally in the past.

  “Hey, Stryker?”

  “Yeah?”

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I reach behind me and cup the back of my neck.

  “You took Ally riding, right?”

  “A time or two,” he replies before patting the top of his head. “She doesn’t like helmets with face shields.”

  I nod and as he turns to walk away, I decide on how Ally and I are going to celebrate her birthday.

  Fast and hard.

  Wild and carefree.

  We’re going to ride.

  -Twenty-seven-

  ALLY

  I expected to be nervous when Celeste pulled up in front of the hospital and told me she had to leave to pick up Skylar, but oddly enough I was fine. It didn’t scare me that I was on my own, about to take a giant leap all by myself. With a sudden burst of confidence, I held my head high and entered the hospital. As I waited for the elevator, I thought about what I might say to Jagger, remembering how awkward I felt the first time we interacted.

  It wasn’t until I reached Jagger’s door that my nerves got the best of me and I felt like I was going to puke. Still, I sucked it up and put my big girl panties on. My brother and I had lost too much time already.

  Too many birthdays we’ll never get back.

  Knocking on the door, I softly nudge it open and step inside. My eyes find his and a smile spreads across his face. Wide and genuine, just like I remember.

  “Hi,” I whisper, closing the door softly behind me.

  “Hey yourself,” he greets, sitting up straight in the bed. “Look at you,” he murmurs.

  Nervously, I tuck my hair behind my ears and smile slightly.

  “Thanks for the makeover,” I tell him, walking further into the room.

  “I’m glad you had a good time,” he says.

  The silence stretches between us and uncomfortably I look around the room.

  “Ally,” he calls, demanding my attention. Our eyes lock and he draws in a deep breath. “I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

  Pleading with myself not to cry, I blink and digest his words. I don’t know why I ever doubted he cared. Deep inside I knew it was impossible for him not to.

  “I’ve missed you too,” I murmur.

  “We don’t have to talk about what happened, but I want you to know I never gave up on making the people responsible for your disappearance pay, and I won’t now either. I’m going to give you justice, Ally. If it’s the last thing I do in this world, I’m going to give you peace.”

  “It won’t change anything,” I argue.

  “Maybe not, but I’m still going to do it.”

  “You’re still stubborn, I see.”

  He smiles at that and I’m thankful for the break in heaviness.

  “And you’re still a wiseass.”

  “I guess some things don’t change,” I agree.

  “Like birthdays,” he adds.

  “I guess I should wish you happy birthday,” I tease.

  “Only if you want me to wish it back,” he replies with a wink.

  Feeling a little more comfortable, I drop my guard and lean back in the chair. The memories flood me and this time I don’t push them away. I let them play in my mind like a movie reel.

  “Do you remember our birthday parties?”

  “You mean our baby showers?”

  I laugh and in return so does he. Our mother combined every birthday party, but themes weren’t something we got to pick. After driving her crazy, fighting over Ninja Turtles and Barbie, hats and horns, she gave up. That’s when she stopped asking what kind of birthday party we wanted and decorated everything in pink and blue.

  “It was ridiculous,” I say through my laughter.

  “At least we got separate cakes.”

  “But we always blew out the candles at the same exact time.”

  “You remember that,” he says and I nod. “It’s been a long time since we blew out the candles together.”

  It has and at that moment I wish we had a cake in front of us because I want that moment again. Maybe some memories are meant to be dust. Maybe we’re meant to recreate them in this new life in some way. Remembering the book of matches in my pocket, I lift my hips and reach for them. Quietly, I rub the book between my fingers before lifting them up.

  “Want to improvise?”

  “Hell yes.”

  Flipping the top, I tea
r one match from the strip and strike it against the back. A flame flickers, creating a soft glow and I stretch my arm out as we both lean forward.

  “One…two…”

  “Three,” he whispers.

  And like every childhood birthday, we both blow in unison, silently making a wish. We never told one another what we wished for and we wouldn’t now either, but I think we both wished for the same exact thing this time.

  Another birthday.

  Another year.

  And another one after that.

  A second chance.

  A new beginning.

  “I bet mom is smiling,” he says softly. Lifting my gaze to his I watch as he closes his eyes and his features fill with regret. Licking his lips, he shakes his head and clenches his fists. I learn in that moment, no matter how much someone tries to hide something, the truth always has a way of revealing itself. Even if he didn’t mean to say the words, I’d eventually know what he was about to say. I know this because if I look close enough, I can see the life and death of my parents in his eyes.

  On his skin, through the ink that tells the story of our fallen family.

  “Ally,” he starts but I shake my head.

  “You can’t take it back,” I whisper. “Tell me,” I insist, already knowing what he’s going to say.

  Already knowing she’s gone.

  My mother.

  My beautiful mother.

  It makes sense.

  All this time, I kept wondering where she was and why her and my father weren’t around, why there weren’t there to take me in and welcome me. I know I asked a few times but every time my question fell on deaf ears and it was easy for me to push them out of my head because I was so used to living out of sight, out of mind.

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “Tell me,” I demand, feeling the tears slide down my cheeks. “Say it, Jagger, because your eyes already have. She’s gone, isn’t she?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And dad?”

  Silence.

  “No,” I sob.

  My body trembles as I rock back in the chair and cry. A million questions race through my mind as my heart splits wide open. Pushing down the sheet, Jagger slides off the bed and makes his way to me. He grabs my hands and sits at the foot of the bed.