My stomach rumbled in response. “Starving.”
He gave me a gentle squeeze and reiterated, “You’re safe, Welly.”
I slid my arms up his back and buried my face in his chest, breathing in his clean, musky scent. “None of us is safe as long as Michael’s around.”
“Yeah, well, we’re gonna take care of that.”
I frowned up at him. “I don’t mean murder, just to be clear.”
He chuckled. “Clean club, baby. We don’t murder people.”
I relaxed and went back to letting him hold me. “I’ll go change.”
“Okay,” he said.
“In a second.”
His arms squeezed me a little tighter. “Okay.”
Badger
TWO DAYS LATER, Alamo and I waited behind the building where Alamo’s woman, Jasmine, housed her salon, and my heart raced with both excitement and rage.
Initially, Alamo had wanted nothing to do with Jasmine’s idea of using herself to get to Michael, and they’d argued pretty intensely about it before he’d finally agreed. All I knew was I didn’t want Quin anywhere near her soon-to-be ex-husband, and I’d fight anyone who disagreed with me.
I focused back on Jasmine, who stood directly under the soft glow of a vintage style streetlight, and waited impatiently.
“You think he’s comin’?” I whisper-shouted.
“Not if you scare him away,” Alamo growled. “Now, shut the fuck up and keep your head down.”
I scowled. Michael was late. His tardiness set me on edge. If he somehow got wind of our presence, we were fucked. The plan was to use leverage and muscle, and we needed the element of surprise to work in our favor. Just as I thought we were going to have to do something else, Michael’s Tesla pulled in front of Jasmine’s shop, and stopped right in front of her.
“Alright, here we go,” Alamo said, and I nodded.
Michael’s passenger side window lowered, and I could see him lean over to address Jasmine.
“Get in, you must be freezing out there,” I heard him say in his creepy robot voice.
“Actually, there’s a great little coffee shop within walking distance, I thought we could talk there. You can go ahead and park around the back if you’d like. It’s a private space and your beautiful car will be safe there.”
I frowned when I saw Michael hesitate for a moment, glancing behind him, before agreeing
“Sure, that sounds great. I really appreciate you returning my call, Jasmine. It’s my sincerest hope to clear up everything with Quin, and to show her just how deeply sorry I am.”
Jesus, you’re fuckin’ deluded, asshole.
“Great, you can pull around, and park right alongside my car. I’ll wait for you here,” Jasmine said. Michael did as he was instructed as Alamo and I watched him from our hiding spot. Once he was out of the car, Alamo gave me a nod and we rushed him before he could react.
Well, that was the plan.
I reached Michael first, whose reflexes were much faster than we’d anticipated. He was a skinny fuck, but he moved fast, and although his back was turned to me, Michael delivered a clean elbow to my nose, causing me to stagger back as blood poured down my face.
Alamo was only a few steps behind me, and before Michael could fully spin around, he threw himself at him, instantly tackling him to the ground in a cloud of dust. Alamo got on top of him and clocked him with a short right hand.
“Wake up, you fucker. Don’t pass out before we’ve had a chance to talk,” Alamo ordered, shaking him by his lapels.
He winced in pain as he came back around, still clearly disoriented.
“Take the car, here… here are the keys… just don’t hurt me.”
“Shut up.”
“I think that motherfucker broke my nose,” I said in disbelief.
“You shoulda ducked,” Alamo replied, standing up.
This was true. I’d been slow. Alamo had not, which was one of the many reasons he was the Club’s Sgt. At Arms. I, on the other hand, was happy being a member of his crew. I’d been a fully patched brother for several years now and couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Alamo owned a local auto shop and I also worked for him there, but today’s job was figuring out how to get his sister away from this monster. She was the only thing that mattered right now.
“Please, take my wallet, just don’t hit me again,” Michael whined, while reaching for his inside pocket.
“Keep your hands right where I can see them asshole,” Alamo said, producing a 9mm Browning pistol and pointing it at Michael’s head.
“Take my car,” Michael whimpered. “Whatever you want.”
“This isn’t a carjacking, you dumb motherfucker. This is about Quin,” I said.
Michael opened his remaining good eye and focused in the darkness. “Valen? Is that you?” He attempted to sit up, but Alamo’s boot to his shoulder convinced him otherwise.
“How ’bout you just stay there on the ground like the snake you are,” I ordered as I held a bandana to my nose in an effort to stop the bleeding.
“We’re gonna have ourselves a nice little chat about your future, Michael,” Alamo continued.
“You animal. I don’t have anything to say to you. You fucking attacked me,” Michael replied.
“What’s the matter, Mikey? Don’t like getting hit by someone bigger than you? It doesn’t feel very good does it?”
“You’re both making a big mistake,” he threatened. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
“Wrong. You’re the one who’s made mistakes. Your first mistake was laying hands on my sister, and the second was thinking we’re here to deal with you at all. There will be no deals made here tonight. There will simply be us telling you what to do, and you then doing it. Now, get up.”
“Fuck you, Alamo. Quin is my wife, and—”
Alamo grabbed Michael by his coat, and set him on his feet. Michael stood in front of us, still clearly dazed from the punch. His left eye was now swollen to twice its size.
“Let’s try this again,” Alamo said. “And if you promise to listen better, I’ll try my best to make this brief, so you’ll have plenty of time to visit the ER, before you go to the airport.”
“Airport? I’m not going to the airport. The only place I’m going is to the police—”
Alamo hauled off and punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping for the air he desperately needed to finish his sentence.
“That’s one shot to the face, and one to the gut, Mikey. I feel like someone’s not playing the listening game very well, which isn’t good for you, because we’re just getting started.”
“You have… no idea how powerful I am… in this town… you lowlife. I’ll bring hell down on you. You can only… beat me up so much,” he said, in between gasps.
“Wrong again, I can beat you up a whole lot. In fact, I’ve been looking for the opportunity to do just that for quite some time, but as satisfying as that may be, I think we have more effective methods for your compliance.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he squealed. “What do you want from me?”
“First, I want you to leave my sister alone, for good. You’ll give her a divorce, under any terms she sets, and you’ll grant her full custody of Kinsey. You’re also going to leave the state of Georgia, for good.”
“Tonight,” I added, my voice muffled behind the rag.
Michael snorted. “You can both go to hell, I’m not going anywhere, and I’m certainly not leaving without my wife and daughter. This is my town, and Quin and Kinsey are my family—”
“And this is the sound of your right index finger breaking in two.” Alamo spun Michael around, grabbed his hand, snapped his finger like a crisp pea pod, causing his knees to buckle and hit the dirt. Michael cried out in pain and I stuffed my bloody bandana in his mouth.
Just then, Alamo called out, “Jasmine is that you?”
“Is everything alright?” she called.
“Everything’s fi
ne, sweetheart. Go ahead and go on inside. I’m just taking out the trash.”
“Glad to hear it,” she said and walked back toward the front.
Michael groaned as Alamo kept a tight grasp on his arm, still pinned behind his back.
“As much as I’d love to do this all night, I have something that I think might be a little more effective. Badger, grab his keys and open the car.”
Once I’d done that, Alamo threw him in the back seat, sliding in next to him while I took the driver’s seat.
“You and I need to talk, so I’m gonna take this gag out. If I do and you scream, I’m gonna shut you up another way.”
Michael sneered but nodded.
“Don’t get blood on my leather seats! This is a brand-new car, asshole,” Michael said the moment the bloody gag was removed.
“You really are something,” I hissed. “The only thing you care about is appearance. All you ever wanted Quin for was to be a trophy wife; arm candy for all your fancy fundraisers. Tell me something. When did you first start hitting Quin? Was it when you figured out she was smarter than you, or when you realized you’d never be man enough for her?”
Michael said nothing. He went into robot mode, his expression blank as he stared straight ahead.
“I had one of our brothers do a little digging around on you, Michael Westgate. At first, you appeared to be the model citizen. You come from a well-respected, old money family, and you’ve never received so much as a parking ticket,” Alamo said. “On paper, you’re one swell fella, ain’t ya, Mikey?”
He remained silent, facing forward.
“Hell, don’t be shy!” Alamo chided. “Everyone seems to love you, Michael, old boy. You were the prom king, for fuck’s sake. Valedictorian and an Eagle Scout. Voted most eligible bachelor in Savannah the year before my sister had the misfortune of meeting you. In fact, no one in town seems to have a bad thing to say about you. Maybe Misty would, but then again she’s not in town anymore is she?”
Michael’s head snapped up.
“Oh, so you remember your step-sister Misty, do you? It’s been so long since you’ve seen her, I thought maybe you’d forgotten. How long has she been up there at Brookhaven now? Fifteen years?”
Michael said nothing.
Alamo pulled out his cell phone, unlocked it, and handed it to Michael. “Open the file I have marked as, ‘Degenerate Dickless Fuckface.’”
Michael did as he was told and his eyes widened. “What the fuck is all this? How did you get this information?” he sputtered in disbelief.
Alamo continued, “I wonder if Misty’s forgotten you? After all those years of medication and therapy. After all those years of being locked away, I wonder if you’ve been erased from her mind yet. Then again, can you ever truly forget your rapist?”
Michael’s cool façade began to fall away, and his jaw tightened.
“What kind of sick animal does that to a family member?” Alamo stared at Michael. “And what about Alissa?”
After a few tense moments, he finally broke his silence. “Those records were sealed. There’s no way you could’ve obtained that information legally. You’ll rot in prison for this.”
“Maybe so, but you’ll rot in a grave first.”
Michael swallowed hard and beads of sweat poured from his forehead. “I know your club’s code. The Dogs of Fire don’t kill people,” he said.
“That’s true, the Dogs don’t murder. Our club isn’t a criminal organization; it’s a brotherhood. Some are born into it, and some are adopted, so to speak; brought in like strays from the street. You could say I’m one of those strays. But I’d developed my own code of conduct by the time I joined the brotherhood. One that kept me alive long before I started riding with the Dogs of Fire. And you know what? My code has no problem wasting the piece of shit that beat up my sister, and raped his own.”
“She is not my sister,” Michael growled and shifted towards me.
Alamo pulled out his gun and pointed it at Michael. “She’s a human being, which is more than I can say for you. She’s also going to be alive for a long time, which is also more than I can say for you.” He cocked the gun.
“Alamo,” I said, not wanting Alamo to go too far.
“Shut the fuck up, Badge. Michael and I are having a conversation, and this is the part where he needs to concentrate very hard.”
“As you can clearly see, we know about your past. We know all about Misty. We have the psychiatrist reports where you described, in great detail, about killing the pets in your neighborhood as a child. We have everything we need to destroy you.”
“There’s nothing in those records you can use to hurt me legally,” Michael said. “I was underage, and those are sealed.”
“You’re right, Michael. There’s nothing here that can hurt you legally, and if I went to the cops about you and my sister, I’d be exposing myself, and my club. On the other hand, if these documents were anonymously leaked to the press, you’d be ruined in Savannah. Hell, you’d be humiliated around the whole wide world. Not to mention, this is only the personal part of the file. I haven’t even shown you the business section.”
“You’re gonna pay for this,” Michael hissed through his clenched teeth.
Alamo leaned in, and pressed the barrel of his gun directly into Michael’s forehead. “You say you know about the Dogs and our code. You don’t know shit about us, or about the lengths that we’ll go to protecting our own. My sister means more to me than this patch, and Jasmine means more to me than my code, and I’ll put you in a fucking hole before I let you get anywhere near them again. In fact, it’s only because of them that I haven’t done so already, but don’t fucking push me.”
“We should get going,” I said.
“Now, listen very carefully. We’re going to drop you off a few blocks away, where a cab is waiting for you. I think this car is much better suited for Quin anyway, don’t you agree?”
Michael sneered.
“Hey, Badger, would you look at that?” Alamo laughed. “Turns out, this was a carjacking after all.”
After taking the registration out of the glove box, Alamo turned his attention back to Michael. “You have exactly forty-eight hours to get out of Georgia, never to cross state lines again. You’ve only begun to see how long the Dog’s reach is, so do not test me on this. I’ll burn you down and piss on your grave to put the flames out. I’ll also expect to see signed divorce papers within the week. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” was all he said.
“Great. Go ahead and sign this over to my sister,” he instructed, handing him the registration and a pen.
Once Michael written “bill of sale” on the back of the registration, we drove in silence to the drop-off point.
When we arrived, Alamo dragged Michael out of the car and had a private conversation with him before loading him into the yellow cab, then Alamo got back into the Tesla, and we drove back to the compound.
It was time for me to start building my life with Quin. No matter the cost.
Quinlan
Three months ago…
I’D HAD NO phone calls, surprise midnight visits, or emails from Michael in weeks, but I wasn’t totally ready to relax yet. My brother and Knox had assured me Michael was long gone (and being watched), and I was the owner of a brand new Tesla. I didn’t want anything to do with the car, so I’d sold it when I’d started the divorce process, but I was still jumpy as hell.
And not just because of Michael. Savannah had a serial killer on the loose, and we were all terrified to go out at night. All evidence had originally pointed to Thomas Ellis, Remi’s ex-fiancé, who had kidnapped Jasmine and held her hostage before my brother had shot and killed him. The victims had been dressed in 40s outfits and left in public places to be found and Thomas had dressed Jasmine the same way. He’d kept Jasmine in his grandmother Opal’s wine cellar, unbeknownst to the old woman and her staff, and it was a miracle Valen had found her.
I had no idea Thomas was s
uch a psycho. I’m not sure Remi did either, but if she experienced a tenth of what Jasmine did, my heart went out to her.
However, last night, another body had been found, so now our world had been turned upside down a bit. If Thomas wasn’t the killer, then who was? That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question everyone was asking.
And I was alone. Alamo and Jasmine were married now, and had bought a house together, so I was living in our old place until I could sort out what Kinsey and I were doing with our lives going forward.
The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted Knox. Forever. The problem was, I had a secret. One that could destroy us, and I didn’t know if I was ready to fill him in yet.
I had just put Kinsey down for the night and I tried to figure out how to broach the subject with him as I stepped into the hallway. As I closed the door, a dark figure appeared, and I froze, my lungs fighting to breathe.
Ohmigod, did Michael find us?
I tried to fish my phone out of my pocket, but quickly realized I didn’t have it with me… I’d left it in the kitchen.
“Quin!” Knox snapped, and as soon as I heard his voice, I sank to my knees, my legs no longer able to hold me. “Fuck!” He rushed to me, cupping my face. “You okay?”
I shoved him, swatting his hands away from my face as tears slid down my face and I gulped in as much air as I could get.
He squeezed my arms. “Baby, slow down. You’ll hyperventilate.”
“Get off me,” I growled, and pushed to my feet, moving away from Kinsey’s room and into the family room. He followed, and as soon as we were away from my daughter, I scowled up at him. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were Michael.”
“You weren’t answering your phone. I texted you a shit ton of times, then called, and I was worried.”
I wiped my face. “I was putting Kinsey down.”
“Okay, honey, come here,” he said, and pulled me against him. “I got you.”
“Don’t do that!” I snapped, smacking his chest.
“Quinlan, you need to keep your phone on you,” he countered. “I need to know you’re okay.”
Redeeming the Biker's Past (Dogs of Fire: Savannah Chapter Book 3) Page 3
