Edged (The Invincibles Book 2)

by Heather Slade

  “It’s goin’ down tonight,” a voice that sounded a lot like that of the guy who’d threatened me said.

  “Why are they advancing now?” I couldn’t place the second voice, but whoever it was, was a male with a Hispanic accent.

  “Big guns arrived from headquarters. It’s now or never.”

  “Are you planning on taking out whoever the Nation sent in?”

  “What choice do we have?”

  “I’m out.”

  “You don’t get ‘out.’ Once you’re in, you’re in, cabrón.”

  As quietly as I could, I ran back through the kitchen. Once I was far enough away, I called Kick.

  “You ready?” he asked, sounding sleepy. “I thought you were—”

  “Get your ass here right now. It’s an emergency,” I whispered.

  I heard him swear as I ended the call, but I didn’t give a shit. He wanted to give me a hard time, I’d go above his head. The next person I called was Grinder.

  “Fuck,” I muttered when the call went straight to voicemail. I didn’t have Rile’s number. The only other person besides Tee-Tee that Edge had programmed in was Shadow, and I wasn’t sure what her deal was. I remembered she mentioned the Invincibles the day she gave me all the clothes, but how much did she actually know about what they did?

  When I saw Kick pull up, I ran out and climbed in the truck. “I overheard two men talking about something going down tonight at the ABT. They said they were going to take out the people the Aryan Nation sent in.” I expected him to throw the truck into gear and head to wherever the rest of the Invincible team were. Instead, he just sat there. “What the fuck are you waiting for?”

  I looked in the same direction as Kick and saw the asshole who’d threatened me headed in our direction. I jumped out of the truck, and when Kick came after me, I didn’t stop to think; I shot the motherfucker, and when he dropped, I raced back to the truck, threw it into gear, and punched it.

  By the time the other asshole realized what was happening and raised his gun, I was close enough to plow straight for him, firing through the passenger window. I hit him and he went down, but I didn’t have time to stop and make sure he was dead. If he wasn’t, he was pretty fucking close.

  28

  Edge

  “I didn’t copy. Repeat.”

  “I said Rebel is less than ten minutes from the gate of the compound, and she’s armed.”

  “What the fuck?” Casper mouthed.

  “Kill the fucking truck! Stop her!” Every one of our vehicles had a remote kill switch. Decker had installed them himself. I didn’t understand what he was waiting for.

  “If I do that, she’ll be a sitting duck. She’s too close.”

  “Jesus Christ, Decker. What the fuck is going on?”

  Casper motioned for me to lower my voice.

  “We’re on our way, but we aren’t going to make it in time to intercept her.”

  “Why is she headed here?” Casper asked.

  “We think she may have intercepted a message at the same time we did, about something going down at the compound tonight. Grinder’s phone registered a call from her, but we were already mobilizing. She got at least a ten-minute head start on us.”

  “What’s going down, Decker?” Casper pushed when I didn’t.

  “Chatter that the splinter group is staging a coup. Both you and Edge are included in the target list.”

  “Have you identified any members of the group?” I asked.

  “Negative. Our only goal now is to get you and Casper out.”

  “Roger that. We’re headed to the gate.” I pulled out my gun at the same time I heard one cock, and it wasn’t Casper’s.

  “Where ya’ll goin’ in such a hurry?” asked Brecht, standing in the doorway with his gun leveled straight at me. “Drop it or I’ll end him,” he said when Casper raised hers at him. “You too,” he said to me.

  “Tell him,” I heard Decker say.

  “You’ve got a splinter group ready to stage a coup. That’s why we’re here.”

  “Who the hell are you, and don’t fucking try to tell me you’re with the Nation.”

  “He’s with the FBI,” said the man who’d offered me the smoke as he came around the corner. “Ain’t that right?”

  The agent’s words distracted Brecht long enough that I could get a shot off from the other gun he didn’t know I had. I hit him square in the chest.

  “Head out,” the agent said. “We’ll take it from here.”

  I had a split second to decide. If this mission ended, it would all be for nothing. We still hadn’t managed to get Brecht to give up Possum’s killer, and now he was dead.

  “Go,” I told Casper, who’d heard everything I had. “Intercept Rebel.”

  “How far out is she now, Deck?” she asked.

  “Five.”

  “Kill the goddamn truck, Decker.”

  “Edge—”

  “Right fucking now!”

  29

  Rebel

  “What the—” I lurched as the old pickup screeched to a dead stop. If I had been going any faster, the fucking thing would’ve flipped. I tried to restart it and got nothing. Nothing. It was as though the engine, the starter, the whole damn truck had been zapped dead.

  I’d just popped the hood when I saw a big black SUV hurtling my way. I grabbed my gun and was about to fire when it pulled up beside me and I saw it was Casper driving.

  “Get in!” she shouted, motioning with her head to the back passenger door. I was barely in the backseat when she punched the SUV in the direction I’d come from.

  “Turn around! We have to go back!” I screamed at her. “They’re gonna kill Edge!”

  She kept going as though she hadn’t heard me.

  “You’re in on it,” I muttered, reaching for my gun.

  “Don’t even fucking think about it,” she seethed. “And I’m not in on anything. In fact, Edge is back there alone because I had to come out and save your ass.”

  She slammed on the breaks when another SUV approached from the opposite direction. Behind that one were two more.

  “What’s going on?”

  She ignored me and rolled down the window. “I’m going back in. It looked like some kind of raid was taking place when I left,” she told Grinder, who was driving the first SUV. “You get her out of here.”

  “Negative. She’ll go back with Quint and Shadow.”

  “Where the fuck are they?” Casper yelled.

  “Third vehicle back,” he said before he sped off. The second SUV went by just as fast. The third stopped.

  “Get out,” Casper spat.

  “No. Take me in with you.”

  She spun around and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. “Listen to me. Because of you and your reckless behavior, Edge is in even more danger. Get the fuck out now!”

  “I’ve got this,” said Shadow, opening the back door. “Come with me, Rebel. Let the agents finish this.”

  What choice did I have? I got out and went with Shadow.

  “You’ve been busy,” Shadow said when she climbed in the back seat with me. “Let’s see, two men down, one a federal agent, I might add. You better hope he pulls through, or that will really cost you.”

  30

  Edge

  “We’re headed your way,” Grinder said through the earpiece. “Shadow has Rebel. She’s safe and being transported back to the ranch. What’s it look like inside? Casper said something about a raid.”

  “It’s mostly over; Brecht is down. It’s complicated, but according to the Feds, he was the one who carried out the hit on Possum.”

  “I didn’t copy. Repeat.”

  “I’ll explain when you get in here, but you can stand down.” What neither Casper nor I realized when Brecht confronted us on our way to leave was, at that same time, the FBI had descended on the compound in a full-stop raid. Agents had stormed the place en masse, coming in from every direction. It had to have been planned for days if not weeks—
which begged the question: why hadn’t we been briefed on what was already in place within the ABT? Smoke had to have known about it.

  I saw the first of our SUVs pull in from where I stood inside the main building, watching as the FBI systematically took the members of the Aryan Brotherhood of Texas into custody, charging them with illegal weapon possession along with a myriad of other things.

  “Would’ve been nice for them to tell us about this. I could’ve finished my pint,” said Grinder as he and Decker got out. A few seconds later, another SUV pulled up; Rile, Jagger, and Rage exited that one, followed shortly thereafter by Casper. While my teammates surveyed the scene taking place, I walked over to the man who’d initially made contact with me, John McIntyre, code name Trapper. “Anyone named Lynch been processed yet?”

  He scanned the list. “Negative.”

  “Let me know if that changes.”

  “It won’t. We’re through everyone.”

  “You’re certain?”

  When he glared at me, I walked back over to where the Invincibles team stood waiting.

  “You don’t look happy.”

  “We failed one of our objectives.”

  Rile shook his head. “The feds confirmed Brecht killed Possum, as well as determined which members were part of the splinter group. Not that it matters.” He waved his hand. “The ABT is finished.”

  He was right. One of the things I’d learned in our two days here was that the Texas organization was low on manpower as well as funds. It wasn’t just the splinter group who was unhappy with Brecht, many of the other members were equally concerned about the Texas chapter’s future.

  “McIntyre said there’s no Lynch on the list of arrests.”

  Rile brushed his lower lip with the tip of his index finger. “That is concerning. Could it be Rebel misheard the name?”

  “Speaking of Rebel,” said Grinder, “she tried to kill Kick.”

  “Bloody hell.” I scrubbed my face with my hand. “Are you serious?”

  “I think he’s going to pull through.”

  Something else occurred to me, and I looked at Rile. “Was he a fed?”

  The man slowly nodded.

  “You goddamn wanker—”

  Grinder stepped in front of me. “This will all come out in the hotwash, Edge. This is neither the time nor the place.”

  I stood down but pointed my finger in Rile’s direction. “You better have a fucking good reason why you kept Casper and me in the dark about this.”

  Grinder remained between Rile and me. “I don’t think there’s much more we can do here, Edge. You ready to roll?”

  The idea that we still hadn’t identified the name referenced when the ranch hand threatened Rebel plagued me. I doubted she misheard, as Rile had suggested she might have.

  “Ride back with Casper and me. You can brief me on what went down with Rebel.”

  Grinder nodded and handed the key fob to Decker.

  “Go on,” said Rile to Jagger and Rage. “I’m going to stay and see what else I can find out.”

  I turned away from him, still bloody pissed that he would withhold information from me.

  “Edgemon?” he said, motioning me toward him. What I really wanted to do was flip him off, but I stopped myself from doing so.

  “What?”

  “I was not aware of the FBI’s involvement. I was also unaware of Kick’s affiliation with them. He came to us through Smoke, whose word I trusted—perhaps until now.”

  I looked into his eyes and knew he was being honest with me. Rile was not the type of man to shirk responsibility. If he’d done what I accused him of, he would’ve admitted it while, at the same time, defending why he had.

  “Understood.”

  “Edge?”

  “We’re good, Rile.”

  He nodded and I walked away.

  Casper drove while Grinder briefed me on everything he knew about what had gone down with Rebel, which wasn’t much.

  I sent a text to Shadow, who confirmed Rebel was at the main residence with her and Quint.

  When I walked inside, Rebel jumped up from where she was waiting at the table and ran over to me.

  “Thank God you’re okay,” she said, rushing into my open arms.

  “It’s over, sweetness.” The words were out before I realized that wasn’t exactly true. It wasn’t over. There was still the question of who the hell Lynch was. “We have a lot to talk about,” I said, brushing her hair from her face.

  “You need to hear my side of the story,” she said, looking over her shoulder at where Shadow remained seated.

  “And I shall.”

  “Can we go back to the house now?”

  “Of course.” I waved in Shadow’s direction, and she gave me the okay sign before waving back.

  We were both quiet on our way to the house. So much had happened in the last forty-eight hours, it was almost inconceivable. What we needed more than anything was rest.

  “What happens now?” Rebel asked when we walked into the kitchen. I wasn’t sure where to begin to answer that question. Next with what?

  “As far as the charges against you, I would imagine there will be a hearing tomorrow. If not then, soon. After which, you’ll be free.”

  “Then what?”

  “The bail money will be refunded, and we can move on with our lives. I don’t know about you, but I have some ideas about what I’d like to do.”

  She cocked her head. “What?”

  “Take some time off—something I never do—and go hang out for a month or two at a beach-front villa somewhere, the kind that wouldn’t require we wear clothes—”

  Rebel’s mouth dropped open, and she gaped at me.

  “What?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “To a certain extent. I mean, that was off the cuff, but after saying it out loud, it sounds pretty nice.” Especially considering we didn’t have a lead on Lynch. It would give the team time to find him while I kept Rebel safe.

  She turned her back and put her hand on her stomach.

  I tried to put my arm around her waist, but she spun away from me. “Talk to me, Rebel. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  31

  Rebel

  I was having trouble sorting everything going through my head. “I need some time to myself.” I started down the hallway, but Edge followed. “Did you not hear me?”

  “I did, but no, I’m not giving you time to yourself. Tell me what the hell I said wrong.”

  I took several deep breaths, not that doing so was helping me settle down any. Edge’s offhanded way of dismissing the shitstorm my life had been for the last several weeks, struck a chord somewhere deep inside me. While the murder charge would be dropped, what I’d lost because of it wouldn’t miraculously reappear.

  I had nowhere to live, and I’d probably lose my job since I’d no longer be staying on the ranch. I had no money. None.

  Edge stood in front of me and dropped his hands to his sides. “Do you want to explain why you’re so angry?”

  “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Why don’t we go lie down, and you can tell me what’s on your mind.” He reached for me, but I backed away.

  “No.”

  “Rebel, for God’s sake, after what I’ve been through—what we’ve been through—can we please just get some rest and discuss this in the morning?”

  “Sure,” I said, but I didn’t go into the master bedroom. I opened the door to the guest room, relieved to see that Kick’s stuff was gone. That was another thing we needed to talk about. Evidently, I’d shot and almost killed a federal agent, but I was still convinced he’d been in on whatever the two men I’d overheard talking in the storeroom were involved in.

  “What are you doing?” he asked when I stood in the doorway.

  “Getting some rest.”

  “Not in there, you’re not.” He grabbed my arm. Bad move. I wrenched it away. When he stepped forward, I took another step back. I was about to
close the door on him, but he was too quick. He reached behind my knees, scooped me up, and carried me into his bedroom. Unlike the other times he’d done the same thing, this time it felt controlling, like I was his fucking prisoner.

  When he put me down on the bed, I got right back up and stalked toward the door.

  “Rebel!” he shouted at me. “Stop this ridiculousness. I’m too exhausted to deal—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, I slammed the door and walked out. Once I got to the guest room, I slammed that door too and locked it.

  I sat on the bed and put my head in my hands. Edge wanted me to explain why I was so angry, but I couldn’t. Even I didn’t know why I’d initially reacted the way I had. All I knew now was that I needed to be alone.

  The next morning, when I came out of the bedroom after getting very little sleep, Edge was sitting on the sofa.

  “We need to talk.” He pointed to the chair. “Have a seat.” When I sat in a different chair, he laughed.

  “Do you think I’m funny?”

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “No, Rebel. I don’t, but I do think you’re behaving childishly.”

  “Fuck you.” I stood and he did too.

  “We’re going to talk, one way or another.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you are going to sit down, shut up, and listen to what I have to say.”

  “Or?”

  “Or you can leave.”

  “Perfect. That’s exactly what I intend to do.” I stalked back to the master bedroom, shoved my photos in one of my boxes, picked it up, and carried it into the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving, like you told me I had to.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Watch me.” I stalked back into the bedroom, grabbed the other box, and carried it out. “Please give me my car keys.”