Viper

by Marata Eros

  *

  Viper

  “Noose.”

  “Yeah.”

  I’m holding my cell so tightly, it creaks. “Mobilize everyone.”

  After a second-long pause, he answers, “Affirmative, hoss.”

  “It's come to my attention that Candice's lunatic father is at Puck's place.”

  “That would be bad.”

  I think about the things I know—and all the things Candice didn't tell me. Goosebumps sweep over my flesh. Fate is giving me a last-chance warning, almost as if to say: “Here's the one woman for you. Don't blow it. Don't let her father dismantle her soul.”

  That’s not happening.

  We started out so wrong, and now we're so right. How can this perverted fucker from the past come back to haunt her at the exact moment that we were coming together? Because that's just the fucked-up way life works—that's why. “I'm going in.”

  “Viper...” Noose begins in a cautionary tone.

  “No—fucking shut up. Candice is mine. Mine.” I bite that last word off with my teeth.

  Noose hears it. “None of us are present to have your back right now.”

  “I can take care of this.”

  “We don't know if Jerstad has backup. Who's involved.”

  Doesn't matter. “Meet me there with the brothers.”

  “We'll be there, even if you're not thinkinʼ shit through.”

  Pressing end, I shove the cell in my handlebar bag and adjust my weight. I get the bike balanced and roll out of there, taking a glance at the Garmin when I get to the end of my long driveway.

  I shoot out to the north like the devil's after me. Or maybe I am the devil, ready to put that bastard at hell's front door.

  Chapter 28

  Candice

  I knew I couldn't have the freedom to live my life. Samuel Jerstad came back, just as I’ve always known deep down that he would. Moving out of state and trying to let the dust settle on our horrific past didn't work.

  Ignoring what happened didn't work. Staying busy, making a difference for children who were like us, didn't work.

  And here we are, right where we began. Another child is at risk because of my reactions. Why did I just charge in? I should've known that something was terribly wrong. Why would a child be tied up like that on Puck's porch?

  They wouldn't. But all I could see was me. And what I would have wanted if anyone besides Puck had noticed and tried to help me.

  They didn't see... didn’t notice.

  However, I can. So I holstered my weapon and jogged to the broad, beat-up front steps, hand to my side as my rib let me know it was still healing.

  The little girl's eyes got wide just as I mounted the second step, my hair beginning to stand up on end at my nape. A shaft of moonlight hit her small face, and a dark shape broke the ray, shadowing it perfectly.

  I whirled. And a fist smashed into my unprotected jaw. Mover, the missing fed.

  My consciousness trembled, but my body remembered its training, deftly catching his nuts with my instep as I fell backward against the steps, barely arresting my fall by slapping my palms on the rough wood.

  I heard the child's whimpers behind the gag.

  Clutching his balls, Mover sank to his knees, beginning to list to the side, but before I could do more, Samuel Jerstad plowed his gun into my face below my eye. Hard. So hard that the flesh of my cheek lifted, exposing my gums to the cool night air.

  “At this range, they won't even be able to identify you through dentals.”

  Our eyes met. And I knew what Jerstad meant to do.

  If there was a way to do it, I would kill myself before I let him have me again. I'm no defenseless twelve-year-old girl. But a force to be reckoned with.

  Slowly, he pulled the gun away, too far for me to reach it with a well-aimed blow.

  My eyes caressed his damaged face. “Love how Puck rearranged your face.”

  His smile was my only warning before he planted his foot in my crotch and shoved. I howled.

  He ground a foot against my most delicate part. “Fucking lippy whore!” Jerstad said in a hoarse voice of derision mixed with lust. “Lippy!” he cackled as I moaned, trying to scoot up a step. Anything to get away from the abuse.

  Mover was stirring on the ground behind us when another face appeared. The fake agent—Dagger—I presumed. The pockmarks of his face skew the moonlight, acting like shadowed measles.

  “Nice,” he said with deep satisfaction as my father buried his foot in my crotch.

  A woman might not have balls, but a shoe in lady parts is no picnic. I realized it was just part of his idea of foreplay. Prepping me for future torture.

  “Grab her.”

  Dagger moved around me cautiously, Jerstad pinning me with his foot. Scooping me under my armpits, he dragged me up in one motion. He was a good foot taller than me, Puck's size.

  His rank breath bathed the side of my face as he said, “He's promised me a piece of pussy pudding after he's done.” He gave the side of my face a long lick with his foul tongue.

  I'm sorry Viper. I really thought there might be a life with you.

  Dropping my head, I jumped, and at the same time, I swung back into his skull. Hard.

  The blow to both my chin and head was too much, and I dropped. Partly because Dagger was staggering backward and couldn’t hold my sudden weight and partly because I’d just rung my own bell.

  Jerstad came forward and took ahold of my long hair, fisting it hard and yanking me around. I cried out, vision tripling at the abrupt movement. Blindly, I reached behind me, searching for soft eyeballs to tear, and found his gun pressed against my head.

  “I will kill you.”

  I said on the exhale, “Kill me then.”

  “Not until William can witness.”

  I let my weight fall, and he followed me down. Then Mover was there, breathing hard. He sank a hit into my solar plexus, and I screamed.

  His hand covered my mouth. I sucked in air around the edges and bit down with everything I had. Mover slapped me, and my head rocketed against my father's chest.

  The gun got repositioned.

  “Will you cooperate? Because there's things I can do to your brother. And I will.”

  My body stilled. I can't have Puck hurt. Won't.

  “Then I'll start working on that worthless man you're fucking.”

  I said nothing. My face hurt, and my head hurt worse, my rib a constant throbbing nightmare in the background.

  “Yes, dear Candice—I know about Vince Morgan.”

  Heartbeats piled up in neat stacks inside me, and I couldn’t breathe. The rib, the strike—the abuse was so well-rounded, I could barely stand upright. Somehow, I did.

  We passed the bound, helpless little girl whose eyes pleaded with me for help. But I couldn’t even help myself. Mover and Dagger closed in around her like vultures after carrion.

  “He'll die too,” Jerstad confirmed.

  Not Viper, I had time to think before he herded me through the front door to face my unsuspecting brother.

  *

  Viper

  I want to tear in there and raise hell. But I didn't get this old eating stupid as a regular diet. On occasion, I've been known to be as dumb as a box of rocks.

  Not tonight.

  I identify Dagger and Mover easily as they haul what looks to be a young girl away.

  Dragging a hand over my camo-ed face, I shake my head at the sight. Fuck me.

  I want to take care of those two. Especially Mover. Unreal to think he's mixed up in something like this.

  But I have to stay on task.

  Get to Candice, dumb fuck. Don't play hero for everyone.

  I parked in bum-fucked Egypt then moved as quickly and quietly as I could through thick woods and underbrush, homing in on the signal of the spare tracker tech gizmo Noose gave me.

  As long as a man still breathes, he remembers combat, and the things a man has to do to survive. Getting to Candice takes precedence eve
n over my own safety. And I'm ashamed to admit my brothers’s safety too.

  All of them will risk everything to wade in here and make sure I get my property. God help whoever thinks to hurt her.

  *

  Ren

  I’ve got a fucking unmitigated disaster of a case.

  Fucking Road Kill. The brotherhood the FBI never was. Now I have Viper, who's been more like a father than my own ever was—albeit a criminal one—putting himself directly in harm's way.

  Gotta love that fucking noise.

  Lifting my binoculars, I spot Thom and chuckle. Nicely played, if I do say so myself.

  He's managed to wrangle that fucking rich perp into the most compromising position of his wretched existence and grab that fuck Dagger along for the ride.

  Excellent.

  Though on closer inspection, it looks like he's got a pronounced limp. Arlington got to him.

  My lips curl in amusement. She's got some hands and feet. I adjust my balls. About neutered my ass.

  I grimace. Feel really bad about her rib. Thought I had better finesse than that. In my own defense, I didn't find out until after she was another agent. I'll have to make a proper apology later.

  I watch as Thom and Dagger take a young girl with them for safekeeping. Dagger thinks he'll be part of a big financial score once they hand off the girl. Thom allows him to believe it.

  When Jerstad drags Candi inside Detective Johnstone's house, I move closer and crouch within a group of trees so dense that even the light of the full moon can’t penetrate the woven evergreen canopy.

  That fucker won’t ever touch Arlington again. But he will get to know the inside of a prison cell for the rest of his miserable existence. My lips press against the sensitive mic to issue a final command.

  *

  Viper

  Dagger and Mover are busy with placing the girl in the back of an unmarked black SUV, and I look away in disgust.

  I'm almost to the door and hit the back porch.

  Being familiar with how old homes work, I don't travel the center of the steps, but instead move up the sides, where foot traffic hasn't made them soft from the passage of time and use.

  Making a wide berth of the back door I try the knob.

  Fuck. Locked.

  Flattening my hand on the glass of a double-hung window, I pray the sash isn't locked. As I press upward on the glass, the window shifts up silently. I duck through the opening slowly, scraping my back slightly on the bottom of the wood.

  Dropping low, I extract my knife. Slightly hooked on the tip, the blade is serrated on one side.

  Standing, I'm careful to remain at the edges of the beat-up floor and lean against a doorjamb that clearly leads to the hallway and beyond.

  A scream pierces the air and shivers through my tense body like an electrical shock.

  Candice.

  Clutching my knife in my fist, I swing my head, flinging drops of sweat, clearing my vision.

  I proceed into the hall, and my eyes meet Storm's. My upper lip lifts, and I bare my teeth at him.

  “Arlington,” he whispers then jerks his jaw toward the upstairs. “You can't go after her. This is a federal case.”

  A second scream shatters the silence.

  We both tense.

  “I'm fucking going, Storm—Ren—whatever the fuck your name is.”

  “Fuck—Viper!” he hisses.

  I shoulder past him, his gun gleaming like an ebony sword as I slide by.

  “Don't do this,” Storm says from behind me. I ignore him, hearing his soft curse.

  Moving to the steps, I pivot fast, facing Storm who is up my ass. “Go along the sides.”

  He's not going to blow my cover like a herd of elephants.

  His red eyebrows hike.

  Using my tiptoes and feeling as awkward as fuck, I keep my feet as close to the row of chunky wood balusters and handrail as possible, hauling myself up with slow precision.

  Storm must understand, because I hear nothing behind me. Finally, I make it to the top and whisper-hiss back at Storm, “Outside edges.”

  I hear the slap of flesh ahead and move toward the sound, crashing through the last door on the right a few seconds later and stop dead at the sight.

  Jerstad is naked, an obscene erection poised above... Puck, who is splayed out on a guest bed, a red handprint on his naked ass. Pants to his ankles, Jerstad is on his knees between Puck's legs, pressing a gun to the back of Puck’s skull.

  Shock ripples through me, and my hand spasms around the hilt of my knife. That was the flesh that was struck.

  My eyes search her out. Candice is restrained with zip ties against an old-fashioned radiator. Red lines mark her arms; some have broken the skin, and she's bleeding. Tears of impotent rage streak her face.

  “Save him,” she mouths.

  My head snaps back to the two men.

  I move toward Puck's would-be rapist with smooth strides, raising the knife, and at the last moment, the skin of his neck ripples as his head twists and sights in on my approach.

  “Viper! Stop,” Storm roars.

  Too late. I've already moved the knife up in a shallow arc along the lower region of Jerstad's back, piercing the kidney neatly.

  A bloodless mouth of a wound opens to pure white then begins to fill in with the blackness of organ blood. I twist the blade.

  I expected Jerstad to scream—or move. He doesn't. Instead, he bucks, arching his back, his cock precariously close to touching Puck's naked buttocks. Puck rolls from underneath his father as the gun falls loose from Jerstad's grasp.

  Then my shoulder is gripped roughly, and I'm shoved out of the way. The knife makes a dark stain of scarlet in the shape of a question mark as it clatters to the floor.

  “Call a medic!” Storm shouts, a mouthpiece dangling from around his neck, one earbud in, the other out.

  “Viper,” Candice cries, pressed against the ornately embossed metal.

  Puck stands, slowly drawing his pants up and holding them with one hand. Our eyes meet. Shame and horror mingle in that dark-brown gaze.

  Tearing my eyes away, I go to his sister and bend down, extracting my everyday utility knife from my front jeans pocket to cut away the zip ties.

  “He was going to—” Candice begins, voice coming out like a raw hiccup.

  “I know, baby.”

  Puck walks over. Candice and he exchange a long look.

  “Now you know,” he says quietly.

  Tears pour out of her eyes, and blindly, she holds out an abused hand to each of us. Carefully, I avoid the lacerations to her wrists. We each take a hand, lifting her together, and Puck puts one arm around her.

  “I thought it was only me,” she says mournfully.

  Puck places a gentle kiss on her forehead. “No.”

  We walk out of there, my hand laced through hers, Puck against her side as they support each other.

  Medics rush in. But there's no saving Jerstad.

  He's earned his spot in hell.

  Chapter 29

  Ren

  2 weeks later

  “I pulled every string I didn't have to get your ass out of hock.”

  “I don't think the FBI has hock,” Viper says, crossing his strong arms across his chest.

  I smirk. “No, but since there's been no proof of wrongdoing from Road Kill MC, and each time you've been about ready to get nailed, we've been able to establish self-defense or one of the other contingencies.”

  “Doesn't hurt that Samuel Jerstad was a child-molesting sick fuck that had abused a FBI agent.”

  We're quiet for a second.

  “Or the brother, a cop.”

  “Yeah,” Viper says, looking vaguely ill. “That fucked-up scene I walked in on.” He shakes his head, running a palm over his crew cut.

  I agree. Some people should not breed. But they do, and we're left with their sick urges and ruined kids. But not in the case of Candice and William Johnstone. They used the twisted trauma of their childhood abu
se to make a difference.

  I tell Viper, “Looks like a leave of absence as president won't hurt. Fly under the radar until we're done looking into your corrupt ass.”

  “I'm not that corrupt.”

  We stare at each other, sitting opposite on the seat of our rides. Standard protocol.”

  “Even I'm being investigated,” I say. “Standard protocol.”

  “Noose can see to things for a while.”

  “Good,” I answer then hesitate.

  “What?” Viper asks.

  “Candice Johnstone, aka Arlington. Dagger's in prison, and Thom is on admin leave just like me. The little girl Dagger brought in as ʻbaitʼ is safe.”

  “I am beyond fucking relieved that Mover was not hurting kids—and the one they used to lure Candice is okay. I couldn't make that connection of him and child trafficking agree in my head.” Viper lightly taps his temple.

  “He was playing a role, like me.”

  “Well, if you ever want to touch Candice in violence again, the only role you'll be playing is hurt. Same goes for him. You FBI fuckers beat the shit out of your own agents, women.”

  Viper's just put me on notice. “Fair enough. I know you want her for your property.”

  “Maybe more,” Viper admits. “If she'll have me.”

  “You haven't seen her in—what?”

  “Two weeks.”

  I whistle.

  Viper raises his forearm from his folded position and flips me the bird. “Said she needed time.”

  “She at Puck's?”

  Viper nods. “Yeah. Heading over there right now.” He frowns.

  I wait for him to tell me what the issue might be.

  “Said she has something important to tell me.”

  I grab my chin, finger-combing the mess of my beard. After the hard ride over here, it's blasted to hell.

  “I guess this means goodbye, Ren.”

  My head snaps to Viper's. “Probably, but I don't know what the final ruling will be. Not a lot of agents knew about my undercover status, and the criminals are dead or in jail.”

  “I'm lucky not to be.”

  I incline my head. But with me, Candice and Puck all vouching for Viper's motivation and having the same story, we saved his ass.

  Viper's not perfect, but he's about as real and decent as I've ever met. Of course, I never really had a dad, and the foster system doesn't breed good ones. Just greedy fuckers with an agenda for everything that's wrong in this world.