by Charlie Lee
I send my own whistle two times over then wait two full minutes before I’m on the move. The rifle with the silencer is tossed into the bushes, replaced with two automatic guns. My feet move with purpose and swift action. Before I’m at the entrance, Curtis is by my side. The crazy fucker isn’t supposed to be here. It’s not part of the plan. But one reason I love the man. He won’t be sitting idle while one his brothers are in danger. I give him a nod, then we proceed into the warehouse not making a sound.
There are two voices. One heavily influenced with an accent, while the other is a quivering mess. I turn to look at Curtis and smile like a kid on fucking Christmas morning. Jackpot, Bingo, and that flashy shit. We continue on our silent mission until we have a clear view of the two men.
Just like I suspected. A gutless, pleading Ricky being beaten down by Alejandro. There’s a mixture of Spanish and English spewing from his lips as he backhands Ricky over and over. The dumb fuck made a crucial mistake sending his men away. There isn’t one fucking person here to protect him. By the time his other men hear our guns, the other men will be attacking. Checkmate, cunts.
Curtis lets out an audible sigh. I see what made him do that. Brick. His lifeless body beaten and burnt on the ground. How we missed the smell of burning flesh when we snuck in is beyond me. I chalk it up to the excitement of cornering these rats in their own maze.
Curtis puts his hand on my shoulder. I know the man needs support right now. Seeing anyone in that shape would take you to your knees, but seeing Brick nearly knocks us both on our ass. I wait on Curtis. This is his war, and I’m his soldier. Always. Curtis steps out of the shadows. I’ve never seen him like this. The man has lost his shit and can only see one thing right now. Death. I’ve been there and experienced the same exact shit.
“Que chingaos.” Alejandro spins to see where the noise is coming from.
He’s greeted with four guns pointed his way. Curtis and I walk side by side, not missing a step. Unified doesn’t even begin to describe it. Ricky pisses himself. The sight is pathetic, like his slime ball soul. I laugh. The sardonic noise finally escapes me.
“The badass bikers finally came out to play.” Alejandro pulls a toothpick from his pocket and begins rolling it between his lips. “Been waiting on you, bitches. Got a bit bored and started playing with one of your men.”
Curtis flinches, and I know he’s fighting everything inside of him to not glance over to Brick.
Alejandro loves to hear himself talk, because the fucker doesn’t shut the hell up. “My men will be back in approximately thirty seconds. If you have the guts, do it now. You’ll never find the boy. He’s well past Tijuana in the heart of Mexico, learning the trait.”
The toothpick tumbles from his lips like a light match igniting the battle. At the same time, his hand reaches down to his waist. I never know what he’s going for because I’m faster. My finger pulls back the trigger just enough to send one round into his fucking foot. The squeal of pain the pig screams out fuels me, so I shoot his other fucking foot.
Ricky begins sobbing, throwing his arms up like we are here to save the fuck. I decide he needs a round in each foot as well. The fuckers fall to the ground. Curtis has his burner out, calling Rocker. I only hear his side of the conversation.
“Need the van and medic right fucking now. Warehouse is secure.”
Curtis throws his burner in the back pocket of his jeans then looks over to me. “House is clear, no sight of the boy.”
Curtis goes to Brick. The two pussies writhe in pain on the ground. This Alejandro character is all smoke hiding behind protection. The dumb fuck doesn’t even go for his Glock. He’s too worried about his thousand-dollar shoes and the pain he’s suffering. He has no idea what kind of hell is about to rain down on him.
I stride over to the two men and send my boot into their temples. They flop back on the unforgiving cement like dead fish. Then I’m over to Curtis, kneeling on the other side of Brick. Not many things can take me down leaving me speechless. In fact, there’s only been one. Caitlin in danger, and now this.
Never in my life have I witnessed torture like this. The only recognizable thing is a shred of his cut lying next to him. I glance up to Curtis to see a lone tear running down his face. His thumb swipes it away, then he’s up on his feet, striding over to Alejandro. I don’t stop him. I place two fingers on Brick’s wrist, finding a pulse, and keep it there while watching Curtis bring redemption to Brick.
He grabs the crisp collar of Alejandro’s shirt, pulling him up to his face. There’re words exchanged, but before Alejandro can respond, Curtis slams his head back into the concrete. He freezes peering over to Ricky.
“Where is the fucking boy,” he growls.
Ricky stutters; none of it making sense.
“Now,” Curtis roars.
“There-there’s a trap door on the second floor. It’s a closet at the end of a long hallway. Go to the back of the closet and there’s a code.”
“Get the fuck on with it,” Curtis interrupts him.
My brain counts out each pulse Brick gives me.
“The code is 4667. Wilder is down there with his nanny. He’s been protected the whole time.”
Curtis cuts him off. “Katch.”
Only one word is needed. I grab the gun and fire a shot, the target: Ricky’s nuts.
“If you’re lying, the next one is in your fucking head,” Curtis growls.
This time, it’s me reaching into my pocket with my free hand, relaying the information. I don’t hang up until I have confirmation.
“Yes, it’s like a fucking daycare down there. Eyes on the boy and the nanny.”
“Stand back. Guard the door until we get there,” I bark into the phone then end the call.
Curtis doesn’t need me to relay the message. Alejandro stirs underneath him.
“All I want to do is slam your fucking skull until your brains spill out on the ground.” Curtis pulls his knife from his hip. “But I’ve noticed you like leaving your mark.”
He flashes the blade in front of Alejandro’s face then tears his shirt open. Buttons scatter across the floor. Then nothing but blissful screams echo around the warehouse as Curtis carves his chest.
The large doors rise open and a van backs in. People scurry from the back. Men surround Brick paying attention to his wounds. It’s Rocker’s strong point in his club. Several of his brothers are former medics from the Army. They have Brick loaded up in the van and off. The last minute, his pulse was one hundred fifty-five or was it... The number is useless to me. The only comfort is there was a pulse.
I rise to my feet, cross my arms over my chest, and let Curtis finish what he started. Alejandro is marked with bleeding flesh. His final demise a long cut across his throat. Curtis leans back and roars as he bleeds out.
It doesn’t last long before he’s on Ricky. Curtis stalls. And I know exactly why. This was promised to Brick. All of us would’ve surrounded Brick as he took Ricky down. All the hours and sacrifice paid in full.
“Do him proud.” I nod to Curtis. “Make our boy Brick smile.”
Curtis doesn’t hesitate, taking it to Ricky just like the details explained on Zoe’s death report. He doesn’t miss a beat going to show how much he’s examined and studied that piece of paper. All too soon, Ricky’s body lies in his own pool of blood with the back of his head bashed out.
The man I call my best friend rises to his feet covered in blood with no resemblance left of his old self. A few brothers of the Denver chapter are there to take care of him. They usher him off to another waiting van.
I’m left alone in the warehouse. And before I know it, I’m moving, covering the dirt road leading up to the house. Not a person to be seen until I enter the closet where the member stands guard. He nods his head, letting me pass knowing damn well who I am.
The door is already cracked. I’m fucking baffled at how vicious Alejandro was yet had no security system in place. Burn in hell, cunt.
I take the steps
two at a time. And by fucking God, I walk into a daycare just like the ones you see in those parenting magazines. A boy full of life and not ruined by the ways of the world sits in the corner putting together a puzzle. An elderly woman looking over him. My fucking heart stops just like it did the other night at the club when I saw my woman for a brief second and she whispered in my ear, “You did it. I’m pregnant.”
We’d been trying for months. My girl so broken over not being able to get pregnant. I read those fucking magazines and even experimented with different positions. Now, I stand here after the bloodshed I witnessed and see this.
Fuck me. I scrub my face silently watching from the steps. This is the end goal we all laid everything out for. Eden’s tirade during church. It all falls together, just like the puzzle his clumsy fingers fight to piece together. Never thought my world would come full circle until now. A woman, my complete opposite, brought it all to me. And I’ll be for damn sure taking it home to Brick and his lady. Apology and all.
I clear my throat and walk the rest of the way down the stairs. My appearance is always intimidating, but I don’t give a shit.
“Wilder,” his name slips from my lips.
The little boy’s head flips up. His caretaker steps back, pushing a panic button. I raise my hands over my head.
“I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m taking the boy home to his aunt.”
“Eden!” His bright blue eyes fire to life. The table topples over as he hops up. “Is my mommy home from vacation?”
The question brings me to my knees and I respond with the only thing I know that comes to my mind.
“I’m taking you to your Aunt Eden. She’s missed you.”
Twenty-Three
Eden
Rose talked me right to sleep, never leaving my side. My eyes grew heavy, but I fought to stay awake with everything inside of me. But in the end, sleep was the victor with Rose’s voice my lullaby. Sleep came easy with Rose and her comforting words next to me.
Rolling over a few times and slapping her back, I knew she was out right next to me. True to her word, she’s by my side until this is all over. She never promised me a positive outcome, only the fact she’d be here for me. Each time I wake myself from sleep, I fall right back under.
It’s always Saxon’s gentle smile and aggressive touch that entertain my thought. Then a former dream in which we are all united and living. It’s the promise Saxon offered the day I met him. It wasn’t verbally expressed but lingered between us.
This time, I sit straight up in bed. The entire clubhouse rattles like an earthquake shakes Cali. My heart stops then fights to beat again. The ruckus outside the door too much to ignore.
“Rose,” I whisper into the darkness of the room.
No response. Her heavy breathing is the only sign she’s still here. I shake out the confusion knowing it’s a dream. But the damn noise is too much to ignore. I know the club is on lockdown and all the families and members are here. At least the ones not out on the mission. The sounds grow more intense with screaming and shouting. I’m waiting for gunshots.
What in the hell? This can’t be real. When did I train myself to listen for gunshots?
“Need a room. Every medical supply you have. Antibiotic IV fluids, gauze, a suture kit…”
“Zeke?” Is that him? It is. Oh, thank God, he made it. I had to notify him about this. I would have never forgiven myself if I didn’t. Saxon needs his brother more than anything now. I knew the moment I dialed his number three hours out from reaching this clubhouse I was overstepping a boundary, but unlike last time, I’m steadfast in my conviction. And if there happens to be a punishment, it will be mine to bear.
The ruckus blurs together. My mind narrows in knowing it’s not a dream. Something is going down outside that door. Even though Rose schooled me on the club ways, I’m still not okay busting out of this room. It’s not about courage or strength in this moment, rather facing reality.
“Rose.” I push on her back. She rolls around the bed wiping away the sleep from her eyes.
“Rose!” This time it comes out as a yell.
She bolts straight up from the bed. Leaps to her feet, pulling out a gun from the nightstand.
“Rose.” I fight to calm my voice. “There’s noise. Something is going on.”
She slowly wakes, taking in the whole scene. She hears what I do. Rose doesn’t respond with words but actions. She walks to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open. I peer over her shoulder.
It’s in a blink of an eye I see a familiar boot race down the hallway. And it’s not walking either and not in the same shape as it was the last time I saw it. I shove Rose to the side and race behind the men. I’m hot on their tail when they lay a body on a bed. My knees threaten to give out on me, but not before I get to him. Saxon. My man. My love.
His towering body lies lifeless on a mattress. I race over to him and am hit with the smell of burnt flesh. His face is unrecognizable. It’s his bloody knuckles I recognize. My world stops spinning. This can’t be happening.
“Saxon.” I cup his face, place the tender flesh of my palm on top of his bruises and cuts. He doesn’t respond. Tears, panic, terror...nothing comes close to what I’m feeling. Men circle around me trying to pull me from Saxon. I don’t budge. I’m aware where they need to be. But I keep a hand on Saxon at all times.
“Eden, let me take care of him. Go sit down. I got him. I promise.” Zeke grips me by the shoulders, places me on the couch, and I watch him with unknowing fear as he slips through a door and disappears.
I have no idea how long I sit there staring at that door, wondering if he’s okay or if they found Wilder. My ears straining for voices. The quiet rings in my ears.
A door creaks. A sound submerges, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in my life.
“Mitts.” My body slinks to the carpeted floor. Tiny feet concealed in blue tennis shoes run my way. I can’t speak. Can’t think. Can’t thank Katch enough for bringing this boy back to me.
“Wilder.” I cry, as he jumps into my arms. His tiny hands cupping my face.
“Thank you,” I mouth to the man standing in front of me.
He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t have to either. I can see every emotion he more than likely shows to anyone written all over his face. Apology, forgiveness, and most of all, thankfulness.
“Can we go get Mommy now?” I have no idea where I get the strength to do what I’m about too. It has to be from my sister who is on her way to resting peacefully now.
“I have a story to tell you about your mommy. Will you sit on my lap and listen?”
It’s the hardest story I will ever have to tell my nephew. The hardest thing I’ve done in my life. By the time I’m finished, he’s fallen asleep in my arms with his favorite blanket and truck tucked to his side.
“You did well, Eden. The boy is going to be just fine. Katch needs to talk to you for a minute; he’s in the kitchen. I’ll hold him right here. Now, go on. Let me hold this precious little boy.” Rose takes him from my arms. I don’t want to give him up. But I do. I stand, make my way into the kitchen, where Katch is just hanging up his phone.
“I’ll deny this if you tell anyone. I treated you poorly. I apologize.”
“Excuse me,” I stutter out.
“Eden,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “Sorry.”
I’m honestly confused, but then again, my head isn’t in the right place right now.
He continues. “I need to get home to my wife, so I’m going to say this once. I don’t give a shit about the law. They can fuck off for all I care. However, Caitlin does. Don’t know why, the woman does some shady-ass shit herself. That’s beside the point. My point is, we all know you’re going to have to tell the cops, Child Protective Services, and anyone else to ask how you found him. You tell them you got a call from the fire department here. They had the boy. You study this name, this face, and all the information I have in here before you go home. They’ll believe it
. Trust me. Trust your man in there and trust in the club.”
Then he strides out of the room without a second glance back. The picture in my hand trembles, and I do exactly what he told me to. It’s just before I fall asleep that night that I realize what he’s apologizing for.
Epilogue
Brick
School was never my thing and still ain’t my thing. I’ve found a new life and wouldn’t trade it for anything. Being surrounded by dozens of damn ankle biters running up and down the school hallways creeps me the fuck out. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention, nostrils flare, my hands balling into clenched fists.
Eden. It’s always about Eden. She’s my core. The beautiful woman is always bringing me right back to reality. It’s her simple touch or quick peck to my cheek that does it.
Wilder’s talking a hundred miles a minute about something as we weave through a mass of kids. None of that matters because this woman is magical. She’s attentive to Wilder while reaching for my hand, coaxing my fingers to relax and intertwine with hers. It works every single time.
It’s moments like these that we still live through every single day. There ain’t no fucking ‘happy ending riding off into the sunset’ type of bullshit where it’s all hearts and perfection. No. It’s like it’s always been between us. Real. Raw. A force.
The wounds and now scars that were left on my skin in Colorado are the brutal reminders of our reality. Eden wears hers on her soul. Ironic how our world came full circle that day and everything we fought was won, but not without a price. It shows in my limp. The deformed skin on my leg from where I was set on fire. I hated it all until Eden taught me to love them. She’s spent time kissing each of the scars until all I could focus on were her lips. Now, when I look at them, I see her, our future, and the home we’ve built.
Who knew that damn old house I was embarrassed to show her would become our kingdom. That was all Eden. She sold her house and had the club move her shit to my place while I healed. My vixen took it all on her shoulders without one complaint. Ironic how roles have shifted since the day we met.
