Burning Daylight (A Devil's Cartel MC Series Book 2)

by Skyla Madi

  “You kill me and you’ll never find Nicolás’s body.”

  Body? My heart sank, then burst with homicidal rage. If he touched a single hair on that boy’s head, I’d break him into little pieces, and I’d keep him alive as I did it.

  I knocked the gun out of Elias’s hand. If we were gonna go head to head, I’d do it with my bare hands. Minnie was afraid of him and I’d show her he was nothing, that I crushed him without breaking a sweat. I bent my knees, dropped my shoulder, and slammed my fist into his ribs. I clenched my teeth as I threw my bodyweight into it—into him—twice! Air was forced from his lungs and blood spat from his lips and sprayed my face. I thought I had him. I thought I’d hit him so hard he’d never recover, but he deflected my third punch and shoved me onto my back foot. He swung his fist and hit me in my jaw, tossing my head to the side. Pain erupted and blood pooled, the metallic flavor overbearing. I pushed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, gathering blood, and I spat it on the floor.

  “You’re going to kill me? For her?” I gripped him by the collar, pulling him in close. Behind him, Creed exhaled and sat on the corner of the desk. “She’s—”

  “Mine.” I drew my head back and slammed it into his nose. His body slackened in my grip. Pain crepitated across my forehead, but Elias was worse off. Crimson blood sprayed from his nose as his eyes rolled in his head. “Yasmine and Nicolás are mine.”

  I released him with a shove and he dove at me. He drew his fist back and ploughed it into my torso. I hunched as my organs smashed together and my ribs touched each other under the force. It was a good punch, I’d give him that, but he wouldn’t beat me. I launched forward, unrelenting in my assault as I slammed my fists into him. He couldn’t stop me. He could barely defend himself. I continued battering him until he collapsed to the floor and closed his eyes. His chest rose and sank with each shallow breath he drew in.

  “Take my whore wife and the retarded boy. What do I care?” he gasped, his hands moving over his body like he didn’t know which injury hurt more. Finally, he settled on the gunshot wounds in his shoulder. “I was using him as revenge on her. Not to start a war with you.”

  I kicked his arm away from his shoulders and planted my boot on his chest. “Revenge on her means war on me.”

  Elias laughed, then choked on his own blood. I put pressure on his chest so he couldn’t clear the blood from his throat easily. I held out my hand and Creed placed my shotgun in it. I extended my arm, pointing my gun at Elias’s face. I placed my finger over the trigger and applied pressure.

  “Minnie!” A distant shout pulled my attention and I removed my finger from the trigger.

  I looked over my shoulder at Creed for confirmation and he shrugged his shoulders.

  “Hold him,” I ordered, not wanting the slimy bastard to get away.

  Creed sauntered forward. I took my foot off Elias and Creed planted his own boot in my place. Elias groaned, choking again, and I slung my shotgun over my shoulder and left the room.

  I walked along the upper level, peering down at the destruction below. A handful of my men were shooting it out with a handful of Elias’s. My men defended the stairs that led to Creed and me, while Elias’ men tried to breach it. A flash out of the corner of my eye drew my attention. By the main entrance to the room, Minnie drove her knife into a man’s chest. I turned to watch as the wild woman bared her teeth and shoved the man forward, using him as a shield to catch the bullets whirring in her direction. Taking the handgun from his side, she extended her arm over his shoulder and shot, killing three guys in front of her, clearing the lower level of Elias’s remaining men.

  I looked at Modo, who stood at the bottom of the stairs, an axe in one hand and a sawn-off shotgun in the other. His blue eyes were wide, his skin spattered in blood. What the fuck? He mouthed at me.

  Yeah. What the fuck?

  I turned my attention to Minnie, and she was already storming in my direction, her eyes narrowed, her lips held in a tight pout. She was covered in blood, her hair no longer in a tidy ponytail. She looked fucking wild. I loved wild.

  I headed toward her. On the stairs, my men parted, letting me through, and I came to a stop in front of her at the bottom. She craned her neck to look up at me. Pride swirled in my chest. This whole time I treated her like I needed to protect her when she was more than capable of protecting herself.

  “Where’s Elias?”

  I flicked my head up the stairs and stepped aside. This was her fight and she wanted to finish it. Who was I to take that away from her?

  “Find Nicolás,” she ordered and stepped closer. She spoke in a tone meant only for me. “And don’t ever cuff me against my will again.”

  I smiled at her and she hated it. Turning from me, she marched up the stairs, ignoring the surprised looks from my men, and entered the room where Creed kept Elias trapped by his boot.

  Y A S M I N E

  My spine wavers at the sight of Elias pinned underneath Creed’s shoe. He’s beaten and bloodied, already the pulp I wanted to turn him into. Disappointment licks at me, but the fact he’s already so weak and injured is for the best. Physically, I’ve never been a match for him and, it seems, he isn’t a match for Judge.

  Creed offers me a small wave as I enter the room, but I keep my attention on my ex-husband. My heart races in my chest as I flick my gaze around the room, searching for Nicolás. The state of this house is horrific now the Devil’s Cartel has barreled through it. If he’s here, I hope…a lump forms in my throat and I clear it, then swallow hard. I hope he’s okay.

  I close the distance between us, and Creed lifts his boot when I stop beside him. We stare down at Elias and I barely recognize him. His face is swollen, his own blood painting his flesh. It’s strange to see him like this—fallen so far from the pedestal he put himself on. He made me believe he was untouchable, that he was a god. Damon broke him in minutes, his palatial lodge barely standing, and I finally see him for who he really is. No one. He’s nothing.

  I crouch as Elias splutters, spitting blood between his lips, the red liquid bubbling, like a volcano about to blow its lid.

  “Look at you,” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes. “Not so mighty now, are you?”

  His bloodshot gaze fell on me and a chill moved down my spine. I know the look all too well. It holds the same level of disgust as it did the day Nicolás was born. The same level of hate it’s had since he discovered I was working for the Feds. I can’t believe I loved him, that I thought he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, that I risked it all for him.

  Elias’s chest caves as his frame trembles with rage and pain. “I didn’t hurt him.” He licked his lips. “Not a hair on his head.”

  “You took him from me. That is hurting him.”

  “I’m s-sure it hurt you m-more than it hurt him.” He gritted his teeth. “I s-should’ve h-hurt him. You k-killed Antonio.”

  “And I’d do it again.” A flash of Antonio standing in front of me, sneering, and calling Nicolás that disgusting word flickers through my mind. I lean close, smelling the metallic scent of his blood as it mixes with his rich cologne. “I wish I could do it again.”

  “So, that’s it?” He coughs. “You’re gonna be some biker’s whore? S-such a role model for your son.”

  If he were standing, I’d hit him with my gun, but he wasn’t. He didn’t stand a chance, not even against me, so I let him run his mouth because there’s nothing he can say that will bury under my skin anymore.

  “When Nic a-asks about his f-father…what’re you going to tell him?”

  I haven’t thought about that yet. Exhaling, I stand up and pull my handgun from the waistband of my jeans.

  “What makes you think he’ll ever ask about you?” I ask, stepping over Elias to plant a foot either side of his waist.

  Elias releases his shoulder and grips my calf—if I can call it a grip. It’s weak and pathetic, more of a gentle caress than a hold. I straighten my arm, pointing my handgun in the middle of his ug
ly face.

  “H-he’ll ask about me. He’ll want to k-know what happened a-and he’s not going to underst-stand a word you say. H-he’ll force you to relive th-this memory. It will h-haunt you for the r-rest of your life.” He smirks at me—a wicked, evil smirk I never thought I’d see again. “K-killing a disabled boy’s father. You’re a bigger monster than me, Yasmine.”

  Anger flares. It swells in my chest and shoots down my arms to my fingertips. Baring my teeth, I pull the trigger and blow a hole in Elias’s face. His hand falls away from my leg as smoke seeps from the tip of my gun. I drop it and it makes a small thud as it hits Elias’s lifeless body. I stare down at the gaping hole, watching blood as it fills the cavity in his head.

  This is it.

  The end of a chapter I thought would go on for the rest of my life.

  I inhale, and my chest caves painfully. I can’t breathe.

  Creed lowers his rifle and flashes me his palm, as if trying to steady me. “Minnie?”

  I stumble backward, tripping on Elias’s long legs, and hit the wooden floor. Debris stabs into my hands, but I don’t care. I inhale again, deeper this time, and exhale even quicker. I can’t breathe. Bile burns like acid in my gut and gushes up my throat. I twist my body and crawl on my hands and knees to the silver wastebasket next to the desk and I puke. Barely anything comes out, but I keep going, hoping the full feeling in my stomach will leave with whatever I expel. Acid burns my throat, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue as I force it out.

  “Ah, shit, Minnie.” Creed brushes his fingers up the back of my arm, up my bicep, and bunches my hair in his fist.

  With his free hand, he rubs his giant palm over my back. I keep dry retching and it’s awful. My eyes water as pressure builds behind them. I try to think about other things—nicer things—but the smell. God. The smell. I sob and it jams a retch in my throat. The sob squeezes itself out, bringing with it a surge of tears I don’t want to shed.

  “Hey, cut that shit out,” Creed demands, pulling my face out of the wastebasket. He swipes at my face, at my mouth and my eyes. “Suck it up, baby. Don’t let them see you like this.”

  I sniffle, forcing the tears back. I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want any of them to see me like this. I close my eyes and inhale, finally filling my lungs. Weight is lifted off my shoulders, a weight I thought I would live with for the rest of my life. And while a new weight settles, it’s not half as heavy as it was when the day started. At this point in my life, it’s all I can ask for.

  “There you go.” He pulls me to my feet and dusts me off. “You did good. Now, let’s find our boy.”

  I frown. “Our boy?”

  Creed smiles and it’s warm and genuine—something I rarely see on any of the Devil’s Cartel men. “He’s part of the family now.”

  NINETEEN

  J U D G E

  I stood at the base of the stairs as my men filtered in from other areas of the lodge, from out the front and down the back. By headcount, I lost seven men. Add that to the eight I lost during the clubhouse attack this morning and I was down a significant number of members for a chapter who wasn’t actively at war. The mother chapter would ask questions when I paid our chapter’s dues in a couple weeks, but I guess that was future Judge’s problem.

  I sent uninjured men in different directions, instructing them to pull this place apart in search of Nicolás. I demanded they pull on candelabras and rip down bookshelves. Who knew where Elias was stashing the kid in this big ol’ house? There were wine cellars to be explored and panic rooms to discover. Nicolás was here somewhere…and I squashed down the possibility of finding a lifeless body.

  “Judge,” Amani called from behind me.

  I turned to face the direction of her voice—a wide hall opposite the damaged statue of The Rape of Persephone, a depiction of her kidnapping by Hades. I leaned to the left, peering around the statue, and my eyes widened at the sight of Amani carrying a pale boy in her arms.

  My heart leaped into my chest and my beaming smile stretched wide on my face as she carried him in her arms. I started forward and Amani’s pretty face twisted with…pain? My smile faded, my happy heart wrenching painfully as Nicolás’s head hung over her elbow, his lips parted and void of color. Then I saw it, the dark reddish-brown stains on his orange shirt.

  No.

  I stopped and stared, hating the way oxygen was siphoned from my lungs—from the building. I remembered the last time I felt something so…sickening. I remembered my blood draining the same way it did when Creed carried my baby girl to me. I swallow hard, meeting Amani’s scared dark eyes. She was looking for me to take the boy, and the burden. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be the one who delivered Nicolás to Minnie like this…but I was president, and this was my run.

  My chest tightened, my lungs suddenly unable to move against my heavy ribs, as I lifted Nicolás’s shirt, peeling it from his bloodied body. I stared at the first hole in the lower right quadrant of his abdomen. A gunshot wound. Cursing, I lowered his shirt. He’d been hit by bullets, and they could’ve been anyone’s—ours, or theirs.

  And that killed me.

  I blew air from my lips and pulled Nicolás out of Amani’s grip. I held him close to my chest and stared down at him. He looked so much like Minnie―even had the same freckle on his cheek. My eyes burned and I blinked repeatedly, desperate for it to go away. I hadn’t cried since I lost Nila.

  “I tried…” Amani sniffled and pursed her lips to hold back the emotion. “I tried so hard, but he’s bleeding too much.”

  “Nicolás?” Yasmine’s voice stabbed into me, sharper than any blade to ever cut my skin.

  Amani turned her back and swiped at her face, then walked from the building, not wanting to witness the ripping of Yasmine’s heart from her chest. I didn’t blame her.

  I held my breath and slowly turned around. Yasmine’s eyes were glowing, holding all the happiness in the world, only to fade when her gaze fell from me to Nicolás. I watched the blood drain from her face, her heart sinking with it. A strangled noise left her throat and her knees wobbled. She dropped and Creed caught her by the wrist, forcing her up straight.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered.

  She gripped the bannister and descended the last few steps with Creed right by her side, stopping her from collapsing. I walked closer, carrying her whole world—her whole reason for living—in my arms.

  She rushed forward. Touching Nicolás’s face, she sobbed, her voice broken and strained, as she begged for him to open his eyes. For Mommy, she kept saying. Mommy’s here. Do it for Mommy. Each plea for him to wake up and be okay wrenched my heart as her hands touched him all over. Nicolás s eyelids flickered and light lit up Minnie’s face. She pulled him from my arms, and they fell to the floor. She cradled him in her slender arms, groaning when she grazed her palm over his injuries, over the heavily soaked fabric that stuck to his wounds.

  “Call an ambulance,” she demanded, not taking her eyes off Nicolás for a second.

  I lifted my stare to Creed and clenched my jaw. I can’t tell her. He nodded and stepped forward, debris crunching under his boots.

  “There’s…there’s no service road out here, Minnie.”

  She shook her head, raking her fingers through her son’s dark tuft of hair. “Th-they’ll come. Call an ambulance, please!”

  No one moved. No one would call, and not because Nicolás would be dead in minutes, but because it was the rule of the run—no police, no emergency health services. To die on a run was an honor and, for the first time ever, I hated that rule.

  She looked directly at me, wanting something, but I did nothing except watch her heart shatter in her irises. She lowered her eyes to Nicolás, and I flinched, my face screwing up with the guilt that carved through my bones. Members began to leave, exiting the building at a slow and somber pace, until only Creed, Armi, and I remained.

  “Bring the truck closer,” I asked Armi, and he left to do the job.

 
; Nicolás moved his hand and touched Yasmine’s face, barely a graze against her cheek. She smiled at him, continuing to caress him all over, and it was a smile full of pain. She knew he wasn’t going to make it.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, crunching her body to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re going to be okay.”

  She kept kissing him, closing her eyes, and pressing her face into his touch…before his hand fell away from her and dropped against his body. Her face screwed up and spears of her loss impaled me. I clenched my jaw as my muscles flexed and I breathed rapidly through my nose. Mist fogged my vision. Whose bullets were they? Mine? Did I do this?

  She cried hard as she clenched her son to her body, so hard her wails were silent, and grief swept me into the same river she drowned in. All I could do was stand there and watch, my limbs frozen.

  “I didn’t want this,” she cried, talking to me even though she never looked at me. “This wasn’t what I wanted.”

  A honk sounded outside, and I moved forward. I took Nicolás from her arms as Creed helped her to her feet. I held the boy close, clenching him in my embrace as if he were my own. I wished it were different. I wished we could take him home and get to know him. Most of all, I wished I could show him what a real father’s love felt like.

  I gently placed Nicolás on the backseat and closed the door. I turned to tell Creed to find someone to ride my bike home when another door slammed shut. The red parking brakes on Armi’s SUV stopped glowing and the car rolled forward. I swore and ran to the driver’s side. I banged on the window as Yasmine rolled the vehicle across the front lawn. She didn’t open it, she kept her stare ahead, her knuckles white on the wheel. I grabbed the door handle and yanked on it, but it was locked.