Torn

by A. F. Crowell

  When I came back in, Jaxon was waiting in the kitchen, looking even hotter than usual with his new haircut and less beard.

  “I’ve gotta run to the clubhouse and check in. I’ll be back in a little while.” He kissed me lightly as I watched Ruger flipping a deflated football around in the backyard.

  “Be careful, please,” I whispered, almost holding my breath. I had never worried about him leaving and not coming back, until now.

  “Babe.” He gave me that look.

  “Jax.” I gave him my version of that look. “Don’t pretend you didn’t get shot three weeks ago.”

  “Relax, babe, I’m just goin’ to the clubhouse. I told you my cover’s intact, nothin’ to worry about.”

  “I love you.”

  “Love ya too. See ya in a few hours.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jaxon

  I pulled out of the driveway on my bike for the first time in three long, grueling weeks. Driving west toward the clubhouse, I felt freer than I had in a long time. I loved Leila to death, but being cooped up in the house with her hovering over me almost drove me fuckin’ insane. Plus, being so close to giving birth she was nesting or whatever they called it. She meant well, and I could see she was worried about me. Fuck, the whole situation was messed up and it scared her, but I still had a job to do.

  Pulling off I-26 onto Cosgrove Avenue, I stopped at a gas station and grabbed the burner cell hidden in my bike.

  “Yo, it’s me. I’m on my way to the clubhouse. Is everything in place?” I asked Tommy, my handler.

  “Everything is set up and ready to go. We will wait on you to get there and give ya about fifteen minutes before we hit the place. You’ll be detained just like everyone else. I hope like hell you know what you’re doing, Jax.” His smooth voice echoed doubt.

  “Just find Drill, he has to go down in this bust. I’m starting to think he suspects someone within the club is leaking information back to the cops.” I scanned the adjacent area. “And that guy’s psycho so there’s no tellin’ what he might do.”

  Hanging up, I climbed back onto the all black Fatboy. I slipped the phone back into the hiding spot within the Shadow Rocket’s frame, revved her up a few times, and took off toward the clubhouse.

  Once I parked and entered the bar area, I sidled up to the bar and checked my watch. It was 4:23. Scanning the room, I took a quick roll call in my head. Mark, Viper, Barrett, Dig, Stretch, Rip, Axel, and Crazy Bart were all here, but no Drill.

  Kat was behind the bar and practically purred as she approached. “Remi, my love. Where have ya been? I heard you got shot and then we haven’t seen ya around. I was worried my best fuck was gone.”

  Sighing heavily, I took the bottle of Bud Light she offered. “Hi, Kat, I’m fine and I’ve told you, we’re done. We’ve been done for a long time. I’ve gotta old lady now and she ain’t you. Now, just stand back there, pass out beers and shut the fuck up. I don’t have the patience to deal with your damn mouth.”

  “God, you always did know how to be a prick, didn’t ya?” she sneered just before slithering back down to Rip and Crazy Bart at the other end of the bar.

  “You good?” Viper pulled out the barstool beside me and sat down.

  “Yup.” I took a long pull from the ice-cold beer. The icy goodness slipped over my taste buds with a sudsy awakening. “Damn, that tastes like fucking gold, dude.”

  Viper chuckled then patted me on the back. “Gonna go make myself look busy. Check ya later.”

  “Well I’ll be damned.” The president’s voice carried over all of the conversations, music and even the moans coming from the dark booths. “Our vice president is alive and well, boys. I see the old lady finally letcha out the house.”

  Standing, I walked toward Mark, beer in hand. When I reached him, he pulled me in for a hug, patting me hard on the right shoulder.

  “Easy, bro, still healin’ and all.” Shrugging away, I pulled out a chair from a nearby table.

  “My bad, man.” Mark sat down next to me. “Kat, beer and Jack.”

  “Leaning my elbows on the table, I whispered, “So what’s happenin’? Figure out what the fuck happened with the buyers?”

  “Hang on.” Mark took the Bud Light and shot of Jack Daniels from Kat. “Thanks, Kat, now make yourself scarce.”

  Kat turned and strutted her mini jean skirt-covered ass back to the bar, clicking away in her ugly-ass hooker heels. Kat wasn’t an ugly chick, hell, I had banged her more than my fair share when I was single, but she got clingy fast. Her bleached-blonde hair was halfway down her skinny back, but was no longer soft and curly like it once was. No, now it was dry and like straw. She used to think that one of the brothers would make her his old lady one day, but she let herself go. To be fair to her, she probably could be an old lady to Crazy Bart, Stretch, or Dig. They weren’t exactly easy on the eyes or had women throwing themselves at any of them.

  “So the buyers, that was yet another one of Drill’s fuck-ups. He brought us these low-level piece-of-shit bangers from the goddamned hood. I swear if I can prove that he was behind this shit, Rem, I’ll skin him alive, like the fuckin’ traitorous no-good piece of dog shit deserves after sellin’ us out,” Mark gritted out through clenched crooked teeth.

  “Where is he anyway?” I tried to ask without seeming too obvious.

  “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him since yesterday. He was actin’ all squirrely and shit.” Mark scanned the room. “But I think I know why. He came into the office and I was on the computer. I don’t know if he thinks I was lookin’ at the books or what.”

  I glanced down at my watch as I raised the beer bottle to my lips: 4:34. They should be coming through any minute. “Did you find anything in the books?”

  “Who me?” He threw back the shot of whiskey. “That shit looks like hieroglyphics to me. They are just pages of spreadsheets with numbers and calculations on it, doesn’t make any sense. Nah, I was online lookin’ for parts for the old Harley I’m fixin’ up.”

  “We need to get someone in here who can tell us exactly what he’s done and where to find the money. I still think you need to call his ass out.” I set the beer bottle down onto the stained, wooden round tabletop.

  “Once we have a handle on where the money actually is, then we’ll deal with him. If he figures it out first he might move it and we might never find it. No. We will wait.” Mark looked up at me. “No one else needs to know about this, just you and me. Got it?”

  “Yeah, brother, I got it.” I stuck my hand out to shake his. As his palm met mine all hell broke loose.

  The Feds breached the solid steel front door by ripping it off its hinges and dragging it through the parking lot. Wood splintered and flew around the two other doors accessing the main room of the compound.

  “FBI, DEA, no one move. We have a warrant to search the premises and detain all of you. Hands behind your head and interlock your fingers.” Most of the agents wore face masks to shield their identity, but the man barking the orders out was wearing black fatigues and it was none other than Commander Bob Gorden.

  “Motherfuckin’ son of a bitch,” Mark barked as the brothers all looked to him for approval to submit to the orders of a man who just burst into their clubhouse. With a slight nod from our president, we all reluctantly placed our hands behind our head.

  “I knew that fucker Drill would get us jammed up,” I cussed him, playing my part. “No-good piece of shit. If he would just do his fuckin’ job and stop tryin’ to bring us these shitty-ass buyers, I wouldn’t have gotten shot and we wouldn’t all be gettin’ arrested right now.”

  “Shut it, Remi. Not another word,” Mark warned quietly as two agents walked our way with zip ties. “He’s still a brother and we’re handlin’ his fuck-ups, not these pricks.”

  All eyes were on us as the agents grabbed our wrists and maneuvered them into place then bound our hands together with the flex cuffs.

  “I’m armed. Pistol in the back waistband,” I informed the agent b
efore he freaked out. My UC status was classified and these asswipes surely weren’t in the loop. Sure, they probably knew there were agents undercover, but who was a different story.

  “I want this place searched room by room. Now,” Gorden yelled to the agents as they scattered like cockroaches when the lights are turned on. I’ve only dealt with Gorden a handful of times, but he was a ruthless prick. He was an old-school guy. His meaning of “by the book” was someone getting the shit beat out of them with a phone book.

  “Boss,” the runty voice hollered from the hallway, “we found the office. You need to see this shit.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Leila

  Ruger and I were enjoying the beautiful, sunny April day in the backyard. I’d pulled a few weeds and made mental notes of where I wanted to plant flowers. I had opened all of the windows to air the house out. After cleaning the kitchen it reeked of lemon Mr. Clean. Normally, I loved that smell, but today it was enough to gag me.

  Heading back inside, I climbed the stairs to use the bathroom and change out of my jeans and fitted maternity shirt into one of Jaxon’s large, soft cottony t-shirts. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I noticed that my hair was a wreck and I had dirt on my face.

  “Ugh, gross.” Rubbing my hand over my belly, I spoke to my daughter. “We need a shower, sweet girl. Mommy got all nasty cleaning the kitchen and back porch.”

  Grabbing a soft towel and hanging it up on the hook outside of the large walk-in shower, I opened the door and turned the water on. I threw on the faded red USMC on the vanity and headed to the dresser for a pair of panties and boxers to wear after the shower.

  Returning to the bathroom, I stepped out of my panties and kicked them over toward where the hamper should be. Ugh. Why can’t he just put things back where they belong? Just as I was about to open the shower door I heard Ruger barking in the backyard.

  “Shit,” I huffed and walked over to the large window near the vanity with my arm covering my breasts to see what the ruckus was about. Ruger was sitting at the base of one of the big water oaks barking like a banshee, which meant either Ms. Rice’s cat was in the tree again or a squirrel got brave and was sitting there taunting him. “Silly dog.”

  Waddling back over to the shower, I pulled back the heavy frosted glass door and tested the water. Perfect. I stepped in and turned on the body jets.

  “Ahh.” The first blast of water was ice cold and seriously got my attention. Once the water peaked to perfection I stepped back into the stream and let the jets massage my tension-filled back. My poor muscles ached and screamed for relief. Sadly, it would be a few more weeks before the watermelon of a stomach I carried around would be gone.

  Taking my time, I washed and conditioned my curls, washed my body, and shaved my underarms. To hell with my legs, Jax would have to help me with that. No way was I trying to bend over and shave from ankle to hip. My luck, I would fall right over and be stuck in here. Jaxon would come home and find my fat, naked ass freezing in the bottom of the shower. God, I’m so freaking fat.

  Turning off the shower, I reached out and grabbed my towels, wrapped my hair up then toweled off. As I picked up the shirt and slipped it over my head, careful not to pull my towel off, I had this weird feeling dance along my skin. I stopped and listened, thinking I would hear Jaxon downstairs, but I heard nothing, not even Ruger’s barking.

  “I guess the squirrels wised up and took a hike,” I said aloud, not sure who I thought would answer me, but I did get a little tap tap from inside my womb. “Is that right?”

  I slipped on my panties and boxers and opened the bathroom door all the way.

  “It’s about time you finished in there,” a dark menacing voice told me. “Another few minutes and I would’ve joined you. I could’ve found out how soft and sweet that body of yours really is since Rem won’t share ya.”

  Looking up, I was met with cold, unforgiving black eyes that I prayed I’d never see again. He was sitting on the foot of the bed with his muddy boots on my beautiful beige settee.

  Drill.

  “Oh my God. Drill, you scared the shit out of me.” I decided to play it cool and pretend like I took his comment as harmless flirting. “Jax isn’t here. Why don’t I call him and see when he’s gonna be home? Maybe you can join us for dinner.”

  “I don’t think so, baby girl.” His words were ominous and the way he said “baby girl” sent a chill down my spine. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head, Jaxon will join us…eventually.”

  Panic started to creep up from my stomach. I needed to get the hell out of here. He was between me and the bedroom door. My only option was the bathroom, but there was no way out of there.

  Oh God, the panic room. I had to get to the panic room. I would be able to call Jaxon. The panic room was in the back of the closet off the master bath. Okay, I need a plan. I need to get back into the bathroom.

  “Drill, what are you talkin’ about? You’re scaring me.” I wasn’t lying, I was terrified.

  “Cut the shit, bitch, I know you know. Jaxon’s not as sneaky as he thinks he is. I know he’s been askin’ around and lookin’ through the fuckin’ books. He can have you back when he backs the fuck off. You and that baby are my ticket outta town. Let’s go.”

  He stood and in that split second I spun and ran for the bathroom. Slamming the door and locking it, I turned and looked at the vanity for some sort of a weapon and spotted the small scissors in the cup on Jaxon’s side of the vanity. Just as I reached the first sink the wooden door frame exploded and splinters of broken wood rained down over me.

  “Couldn’t just make this easy, could ya?” he seethed and stepped over what was left of the door he just kicked in. “Now, I’m done being nice, I ain’t askin’ you. Let’s fuckin’ go.”

  With those words he reached behind his back and pulled out a Walther PPQ 40 caliber pistol and aimed it, not at my head, but at my stomach. All reason left my body and I crossed my arms over my stomach and silently prayed.

  “Don’t, please, I’ll do whatever you want. Oh God.” I felt the first wave of nausea hit and swallowed back bile. I hunched over and clutched my stomach and moaned like I was in pain. I had to buy myself some time. “Ughhhh, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  “Nice try.” He wrapped his large, grease-stained hand around my bicep and pulled me to standing as a contraction clenched my abdomen.

  “Ahhhh!” Screaming, I leaned forward and started panting. “Mother fucker.”

  “What the fuck?” Drill tucked the gun into the front of his dirty, ripped-up jeans and gripped both of my arms to keep me standing.

  “Ughhhh, you asshole. I’m having a contraction.” I exaggerated the pain and intensity of the contraction, looking for a way to get to the scissors. Swiftly I brought my knee up and met his balls with as much force as I could muster. Pushing him away, I spun and lunged for the cup on the vanity.

  “You fucking whore. You’re dead.” He grabbed a handful of hair at the back of my head as I got to the vanity and was seconds away from reaching the scissors. “Shoulda just done as you were told.”

  With the vise grip on my curls, he slammed my forehead into the large gilded mirror. Pain seared through my face as the mirrored glass shattered down over me. Even with my eyesight hazed and askew and my mind muddled, I could still feel the magnitude of my situation. Adrenaline took over and my body fought through my blood-filled vision. I knew if I didn’t fight, I would die right here in the bathroom. A bathroom that Jaxon had built for me.

  You know how they say when you are in a life or death situation that your life flashes before your eyes? On TV they showed pictures of people’s lives and it was all happy moments frolicking in a field or some shit. Yeah, well, in real life that shit didn’t happen. You had a split second to make the decision.

  And I chose to fight.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jaxon

  After seven p.m. I was finally released. To all my brothers it would appear that my
fiancée’s brother had pulled some strings to get me released when, in fact, they let me sit in here long enough so as not to look suspicious. I strolled out of lockup and grabbed my phone, wallet, and Ruger SR40c. Immediately, I called Lei, not wanting her to worry.

  The phone rang a few times then voicemail picked up.

  “Babe, it’s me. I just wanted to let ya know I should be home in about an hour or so. Call me back.” She must be napping. She’d been so tired lately, and who could blame her. The baby would be here in a few more weeks. To say I was excited would be an understatement. This little girl would be wrapped in love from the moment she was born. I would love her like she was my own flesh and blood.

  I met Drew and Tommy in the back parking lot as instructed. Drew was included because I could explain away being with him. He was my ride home.

  “Tommy, you’ve met Drew?” I questioned.

  “Yeah, his SWAT team was in on the raid. Thanks for the assist by the way.” He shifted his gaze to Drew momentarily.

  “Okay, we don’t have a lot of time. What did you find?” Knowing they took the computer in and had the FBI forensics accountant perform a quick comb through every file, I figured they’d mined some intel. “Can we trace the money?”

  “Yup, every fuckin’ penny. From the cartel to the MC then the small siphoning algorithm that takes a small percentage from each account once a month labeled as service charge. Plus he’s got several GL codes set up that are funneled into his offshore account,” Tommy explained. Drew looked at him like he had monkeys flying out of his ass.

  “What the hell does all that mean?” Drew looked for clarification.

  “Means Drill’s been embezzling from the club. How much is in the accounts?” I asked.

  “You mean account. There is only one, the dumbass. As of the other day, one hundred, ninety-six thousand, seven hundred fifty-six dollars and twelve cents. It looks like he’s been doing this for about four years.” Tommy pulled a pack of menthols out of his cargo pocket and lit up a cigarette. “We put out an APB on him and the ADA is working on securing a warrant for his arrest.”