I make a quick pit stop by the john. The heavy grunting coming from the handicap stall tells me that we’re going to be delayed by five, ok, maybe ten minutes.
Herc’s taking care of business. The big man doesn’t talk much, but he’ll leave a trail of broken hearts like nobody’s business. Fuck, he still has needs. Don’t we all?
We wait on our sleds, snickering when he comes from rambling around the back corner of the building using the delivery entrance. Laughter grows into full blown roars when we catch him still zipping up his jeans.
The cute, little waitress doesn’t stand much taller than his muscled belly. Once he’s done dealing with his pants, he snags his cut that’s hanging off his shoulder for safe keeping and puts it on before gracing the pitiful woman with a parting kiss goodbye.
She watches after him as he walks away with a shit eating grin dancing across his bag face.
He leaves another sucker in his silent wake.
His brothers wait for the woman to disappear as they latch on their brain buckets, survey their surroundings, and head out for the last stretch of the ride.
Next Stop? Jolene.
***
The cabin is dark and quiet when we park. The Prospects can’t be seen, but I feel them watching us. A hot pot of coffee has just been started.
Ruth?
Hope swells in my tight chest.
“Hey.” Jessa putters down the hallway with a cup in one hand a book in the other. She passes Clint who’s on his way to check on his old lady.
My heart sinks into my stomach. So much for wishful thinking.
She appears different. Still thin, boney even, but her face has been scrubbed clean of all the makeup. Shit, I don’t know the last time I’ve seen that. Her eyes are blue, not smudged with all that black shit. They’re not blue like Jo’s, but a sad, light blue.
She smiles. “Want some coffee after your ride?” It’s a genuine smile, not like when she’s trying to get something out of me or get in my fucking pants.
“Sure,” I offer and square my ragged ass down in an old kitchen chair. “Everyone down for the night?”
She plops down across from me, placing a mug opposite hers. She shakes her short, black hair. “Jo went down a while ago. Patsy’s still up in her room waiting on Clint. Pop ain’t made it back yet. Stoner and Duke just got done trading out with the young bucks.”
“I’m guessing there’s still nothing on Ruth.” The string of words come out as a statement rather than a question. Relief invades my gut when Jessa doesn’t pick up on the mistake.
“Not a goddamn word.”
“When’s the old man supposed to be back?”
She shrugs, her frail shoulders fall as if they’re carrying the weight of the world.
“Why don’t you turn in. I’ll cut the coffee pot off and lock up.”
“Sounds good.”
I watch her disappear, waiting to hear her latch turn in place. My heart jumps in my chest at the thought of being near Jolene. I take care of business and make a mad dash down the hallway. The vision of Jolene lying in bed causes my hard dick to stir. The fucker’s been hard since leaving the bar. Makes for a bitch of a ride.
Her long, tan legs are tangled up in the afghan that she must have snagged off the couch. Her security blanket, doused with years of memories and emotions. Her creamy tits move with each breath. Her rosy lips are parted just enough, as if sending me an invitation.
I ponder waking her from a peaceful sleep using nothing but my tongue. My cock twitches when the ground vibrates under my boots.
“Ronin?”
She balls her fists, rubbings her drowsy eyes.
“It’s ok, darlin. Go back to sleep.”
To my surprise, she falls back over without a protest, quickly assuming her position.”
I fight the urge to climb in bed beside her. Apparently, my decision is made for me when the front door slams loud enough, it rattles the windows through the ancient house.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Wizard shoves past me and dashes out the back door, kicking it closed behind him.
“None of your goddamn business.” Jesse slams the back of his head into the wall, pinching his eyes closed.
My near black eyes are round as searing blood flushes through my large build. “Excuse me?”
The old man pries open his lids. Both wear and tear obviously take a toll on his already haggard features.
He shakes his shaggy, gray mane. “I’m sorry, Son.” He drops his head, scuffing one boot across the other. “It was a rough fucking day. I was sure we were going to bring Ruth home tonight.”
“What happened?”
Jesse dumps his slight frame into a chair and sifts his fingers through his tangles. “We had a sit down with Fugi and Zombie today.”
Anxiety builds in my chest cavity, growing by the seconds, bubbling to the surface. “You’re telling me you actually laid eyes on Zombie?”
His chin hangs low as he nods.
“Wizard too?”
He nods again.
“For real?” My pulse races. Heat floods my ears.
The old man’s head flies up, facing me. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
I feel the distance as my eyes glaze over.
He doesn’t wait for me to respond. “Fine, you need me to say it? Yes, I saw Zombie today.”
“Is he alive.”
“Why do you think I’m so upset? The fucker’s still breathing!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
(Jolene)
I wake up to the smell of popping sound of bacon frying and the mouth-watering smell of buttery eggs. The savory whiff of sage from the sausage gravy makes me want to gnaw off my own arm.
The breakfast awaiting me acts as a brief distraction from the craving pulsating between my legs. Fuck Ronin for leaving me alone in this big, empty bed. I can tell from the cold, left side that he never slept. Not next to me, anyway.
I hustle through a quick shower, tugging on a pair of snug jeans and a flannel over a black tank top. I slip on my leather boots before making my way to the kitchen where I find nothing but females in full swing.
“Well, if it’s sleeping beauty.” Jessa teases.
I immediately notice her fresh face. “Are you sick?”
She furrows her brow, creasing her forehead. “No, why?”
“Nothing. You want me to finish up here, so you can go do your makeup?”
“Oh, that. No. I’m sick of wearing all that shit. Giving my face a break. What do you think?”
My tummy somersaults. I place an arm over my sister’s thin shoulders. “I think you look amazing.” I glance around the room at the other women who nod and smile in agreement.
Patsy winks and takes Jessa’s hand in hers. “You just wait until Ruth sees.”
The touching sentiment brings unprecedented tears to Jessa’s clear eyes.
“Alright, enough of that,” I joke and pour myself a cup of hot java, praying it will have an instant effect. “Where’s all the testosterone?”
“Split all over the goddamn place.” Patsy sets a plate of food in front of me.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Patsy darts her gaze over at Jessa. My sister twists her lips.
“Someone better start talking or I’m just going to stop sleeping altogether so I don’t miss anything.”
“Fine.” Jessa jerks her head toward Patsy, who looks at the rest of the bitches.
“Scram,” she commands.
“Shit. How much did I miss?” I’m only half mocking.
They wait for the house to empty, which takes a hot minute since the bitches aren’t leaving until they pile their plates high since there is obviously no coming back for seconds.
The screen door slams and I draw my lips into a hard line, staring at Jessa. “Well?”
“I don’t know how you slept through all that bullshit last night.” She takes a long pull from her coffee, clearly a stall tactic. “I
was up when Ronin and his crew got in. Looked good. Everything was normal. They were tired. I went to bed. I think he checked on you.”
“Yeah, Clint came to bed for a while until everything came to a head.”
Jessa peers down at the floor and nods. “When Pop got back, it didn’t take long for him and Ronin to blow up. I got up to check on them, but as soon as I did, they told me to go back to bed and moved their shit outside. I passed Clint in the hallway, throwing on his boots.”
“Haven’t seen him since,” Patsy mumbles.
“What do you mean, they had a blow up?”
“Just that. They were screaming and yelling shit.”
“Fucked up shit.” Jessa pops up and begins clearing the untouched dishes.
“So, you heard what they were saying?”
“Only some of it.”
“Stop throwing away perfectly good food and fill me in.”
A loud sigh escapes my sister’s lips. “It’s bad, Jo.” She plops back down. “They were arguing about Ruth.”
“What could they have been fighting about when it comes to Ruth?”
Patsy gazes up over her eyebrows. “If we’re being honest, it wasn’t just about her. I think Jessa just doesn’t want to upset you.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re both doing a piss poor job at that.” My spine tingles like a pin cushion as fear creeps up through my back.
“Apparently, Pop had a sit down with Fugi yesterday.”
“That’s good right? It’s about time.”
Jessa leans forward, her strong gaze penetrates mine. “He met with Zombie.”
I feel the weight of my head as it swoons backwards. The air is expelled from my lungs leaving me breathless. “Why isn’t he dead? Or here? I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, hun.” Patsy’s ponytail sashays against her shoulders.
“That’s all I heard before they took their shit outside. I swear, if Clint hadn’t gotten out there, I think that shit might have come to blows.”
“Are they out there now?” I grip my mug and get ready to stand up as my sister rests her hand over mine.
“Don’t bother,” she says.
“They left out before sun up.”
“Together?” Hope bubbles in my chest.
“Not a chance in hell.”
***
Crack
I hurl the phone at the defenseless China cabinet, breathing a sigh of relief when it hits the wood rather than the decorative glass.
Not only did Ronin leave without saying a word, but he hasn’t answered a single one of my eight phone calls.
I’ve spent the morning dusting and cleaning cobwebs. Just call me Leather fucking Cinderella.
Even the bitches are sitting around with their thumbs stuck up their asses because I’m taking care of all the dirty work.
“You wanna take a ride?” Jessa picks my cell up off the tattered Oriental rug.
I toss my head back and roll my eyes. “You have no idea how much. Where we going?”
She tosses my bag and I follow her out the door. I can hear Patsy barking orders as I climb into the SUV. Damn, she’s getting good.
“I got a call from a friend of the club. Looks like there’s a problem at the Clubhouse. We need to go check it out.”
“What kind of problem?”
Her shoulders rise and fall as she backs out, spinning dirt. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Shit.”
“Yep,” she utters to herself.
The long stretch back to Jericho is bleak. My immersed thoughts are fixed on Ruth. This fucked up situation is beyond out of control. The Executioners are out of control. If this had happened six months ago, Ruth would have been home within an hour, leaving a trail of bloody, mangled bodies behind.
I might have protested before. Wanting to leave the violence out of it, if possible, but not today. I’m done with that shit. I just want my family back. My club.
Fuck.
My Ronin.
Jessa says something that bounces off my numb senses.
“I’m sorry. What was that?”
She tilts her head, still darting her gaze to keep her eyes on the road. “Anything you want to share?”
I purse my lips after pulling in air. “Just thinking about Ruth. What do you think is going on?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“Really?” I ask without gauging the consequence.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Come on. You always have an ear down in the inner circle. You expect me to believe you’re clueless for the first time ever?”
“Look, Jo, I know it may be hard to believe, but shit has changed. I have no idea where Ruth is or who has her. I don’t know what’s going on with the boys. Shit, can’t you look at Ronin and Pop and see that for yourself? I mean, can’t you see the changes I’m making?”
I hear her voice quivering and instantly regret the cruel accusation. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I guess it’s hard to break old habits.”
She snickers. “You got that shit right.”
We manage small talk for the remainder of the trip, both agreeing it was a blessing in disguise that we couldn’t reach the guys to request permission to head back into town. It would have been immediately denied. And probably for good reason.
We pass the D&K Diner. It always warms my soul to see the old timers smoking stogies where Ronin and I fell in love over countless hours of eating French fries and ranch dressing.
We turn down all the familiar streets, recognizing the faces as they quickly about face.
It doesn’t appear like anything has changed in the short time. However, all that changes as we round the last block to the bar.
The Clubhouse looks like it should now be renamed the Ghost Bar.
There are no vehicles. It’s pitch black. And zero sleds.
A bad fucking omen.
“What do you think?” I ask, focusing straight ahead.
My sister shakes her head. “It’s not good, whatever it is. Don’t go in without your weapon.”
My thoughts exactly.” I plant one foot on the ground, wielding the gun that is now my fifth limb, and pray the adrenaline pulsing through my legs holds long enough to carry my heavy body because I don’t trust my actions. “Got your keys?”
“I don’t think we’re going to need them.” She dips her chin, pointing to the door, catching my eye.
The deadbolt has been blasted, leaving the wooden panel splintered and fragmented.
My throat constricts like an invisible hand has a death grip around my slight wind pipe, snuffing out life.
Black spots dot my peripheral vision.
Jessa whips her head in my direction. She squishes her finger against her collapsed mouth and jerks her noggin toward the entryway.
I signal acknowledgement and follow as she makes a small gap in the pulverized door.
I cover Jessa, parading with caution. It helps that we know the pitch-black room like the back of our hands.
I creep along the galvanized metal wall, trying not to clip my fat bottom ass on the screws protruding out.
“Anything?” Jessa whispers.
“Nothing.”
I step further, running my free hand along the surface, finally reaching the light panel.
“Jessa?” I inch closer.
“Hey, Jessa?”
Silence.
“Answer me,” I demand, straining to keep my voice a whisper.
The thin air is sucked from the room, leaving me swimming through the vast, blank space.
“Goddamn it Jessa,” I screech just as I skim my fingertips along the breaker box.
I flip the switch and the room is flooded with bright light. I’m unprepared for the sight before me.
Jessa is standing at the side of one of the ten pool tables, both arms dangling at her sides. Her gun lies at her feet. Her round eyes are nearly the size of her gaping mouth.
All justified, due to the bloody, dismembered body scattered abou
t along the green felt.
I edge closer. My scrutiny is locked in on the crimson pieces of goo and bones table.
I place my hand on Jessa’s shoulder. Even though she knows I’m there, she springs two inches off the ground.
“Who-o is it?” she stammers. “Do you think it’s Susie?”
My blonde ponytail swishes in the air as I shake my head. “Doesn’t look like her build.”
What’s left of the skull is face down.
Vibrations invade my quivering body. My lips and fingertips go numb. I reach forward, squeezing my eyes shut as I connect with matted, dark hair.
My stomach pitches, hurling bile into my dry throat.
Peeling the head back from the sticky fabric, Jessa’s long, red nails dig into my buzzing arm.
I flip the what I’m guessing is a man’s skull and skitter backwards, with my sister in tow.
Holy fuck.
“Brad.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
(Ronin)
A mixture of blood and spit flies, splatting across my right cheek. I jerk the worn bandana from my back pocket and wipe the shit from my face, not giving it a second thought.
Herc is enjoying his rank today. We’ve been tasked with finding Ruth. It’s about fucking time.
“You ready to tell me something I can use?” I force my boot against the shattered man’s throat. He uses both hands, struggling to push my weight away. It’s a futile move. I press harder.
I refuse to make a move on the Pistol Kings at this point, seriously pissing off the old man. He doesn’t know that I have certain information, and it’s important that I keep it that way.
When I think the loser has had enough, I release his windpipe. Herc, on cue, straddles the man, cracking his massive knuckles.
He pries open his mouth, breaking the dried blood crevices. “I swear…”
Herc lands a square fist into his ribs, causing him to buckle.
Then he says something that none of us expected. “You’re gonna have to go ahead and kill me. I don’t know nothing,” he squeaks through a strangled voice.
The weight of Clint’s heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
“Son of a whore!” Troy kicks gravel across the railroad.
Exacting Revenge Page 11
