by Franca Storm
He walks on through and I follow him out.
The second he makes it down the steps, I lunge at him, ripping the gun from his grip and slamming him into the brick wall of the bar by his throat.
“What the fuck?” he shrieks. “Thought you were gonna help me?”
I tighten my grip and he gags. “You think I’d let a piece of shit like you near her? Already know you took your hands to her last time you were here, you fuck!”
“She wouldn’t listen. I love her!”
“You dunno know shit ‘bout love! You’re a fucking psycho.” I shake him and growl, “Make you feel like a man, beating on a sweet little thing like her? Huh? Did it, you shit?”
He starts crying then. Ain’t nothing but a pussy hiding behind a gun. “I love her,” he cries. “What do you know about it? Guys like you just screw around with all those whores who hang around your clubhouse. Never care about anyone.”
His words catch me off guard. They’re like a spark, firing me up instantly. Dangerously. Cuz it’s a brutal hit. I ain’t with the woman I love. And here this shit head is throwing that in my fucking face?
I can’t hold back.
My fist plunges into the side of his face, hitting so hard that his head snaps to the side. I step back and let go of his throat and then I hammer a blow into his gut.
But I can’t stop.
I keep coming. Beating on him like that bag I was ripping into earlier.
I hear him crying, begging me to stop, but it’s too distant for me to register.
Suddenly, strong arms wrap ‘round me, pulling me back. “Enough,” a voice tells me.
The hold ‘round me breaks and I spin ‘round to see Dealer standing there.
He looks me over with the same worried expression he’d had back at the clubhouse.
“What the fuck you doing here? I’m taking care of club business. Get gone.”
“Guy’s half dead, Ax. You done now?”
“No,” I growl, pulling my gun and eyeing the bloodied mess of Ricky sprawled out in the parking lot. Shit. I can barely even recognize him, cuz I messed up his face so bad.
My hand shakes as I think ‘bout blowing him away, just like I gotta do to all the assholes on my list.
Jesus. Why ain’t this easy? I gotta be ready and killing this shit head is a good warm up. Ain’t like he don’t deserve it, right?
I flip off the safety and shift my weight. Come on. You can do this. Take him out.
But then a shot fires.
I watch as a bullet rips through Ricky’s skull, killing him instantly.
I turn to Dealer to see him standing there, his eyes cold, expression completely blank, with his gun still in firing position.
“What the fuck? Why’d you do that?”
“I’m a ghost. You ain’t. Did you a fucking favor.”
Before I can get a word out, he holsters his gun and pulls out his cell and calls for a cleanup.
“Twenty minutes and this mess will be taken care of,” he says, eyeing Ricky.
Jesus, he’s connected.
“Look, Dealer—”
“You’re on the edge, Ax.”
“I’m fine,” I growl. “Guy had it coming.”
“Don’t doubt it, but ain’t like you to be the one to deal it out. With your fists, sure. But dealing death? Nah, not who you are.”
“What?”
“You ain’t Skinner, but you’re on your way there, kid. Right now, you’re still hesitating. Something’s stopping you from doing it. But that ain’t gonna last if you head down this road.”
Before I can stop myself, I lunge at him. Fisting my hands in his leather jacket, I snarl, “I ain’t nothing like him! You hear me?”
“Think ‘bout what you almost did here and tell me that again,” he says, not the least bit affected by me having hold of him. Guy’s got balls of steel.
I let go of him roughly and blow out a breath. “Why’d you care?”
“Cuz she would care.”
“What?” I choke, not expecting those words outta his mouth.
“She wouldn’t want this for you. Would kill her to see you like this.”
“She ain’t gonna, is she? She’s miles away. So, what’s the difference?”
He scrubs his hand over his face, looking distressed. Shit. What is it? “Dealer?”
“I was right ‘bout you being with her putting her in danger. But I was wrong on how deep shit ran between you two.”
“What you getting at?”
“Roxana ain’t over you. She’s good at faking it to most people But not to me. Not to her old man. She ain’t happy.”
“Why you telling me when you know I can’t do nothing ‘bout it ‘til I’ve taken care of every motherfucker on my enemies list?”
“Cuz I’m gonna help you, asshole.”
“What?”
“Can’t let you go ‘round burying a load of guys, cuz, like I said, you won’t come outta it the same guy. Roxana won’t even recognize you. But me…I’m already down that dark road, Ax. Won’t make a bit of difference for me.”
I’m getting sick and tired of hearing all this bullshit from him, of him questioning me. I ain’t a green kid no more. I’m Prez of Thorns now. I know what the fuck I’m doing.
“You think you know me, cuz you knew my old man?” I tell him, stepping into him and getting in his face. “Cuz you guys were tight once?” He just glares back at me, standing his ground like the arrogant fucker he is. “You don’t. You dunno what I’m prepared to do. Dunno what I’m capable of. Dunno what I can take. Dunno me.”
“Ax—”
I slam my hand into his chest, knocking him back. “Stay outta my way! You feel me? Stay the fuck outta it! This is my fight!”
He don’t make a move to retaliate. But I see him ‘bout to argue back yet again.
Then a voice interrupts us.
“Ax?”
I spin ‘round to see Smiter standing there.
“Told you to stand down.”
He shakes his head. “That ain’t never gonna happen when your life’s on the line, brother.”
Fuck. I draw in a breath and then point to Ricky. “Needs taking care of. You got it?”
“Yeah, ‘course.” His eyes dart to my bloodied hands. Ain’t mine. It’s all Ricky’s. “You all right?”
“Fine,” I snap. “Just…sort it.”
“Ax. I got it,” Dealer interferes.
“Then work together,” I say, done with this arguing shit. I brush past Smiter and make my way over to my bike parked a few feet away.
“You headed back to the clubhouse?” Smiter calls after me.
“Later. Got some shit I gotta do first.”
“Need one of the boys with you?”
“Nah. Personal shit,” I tell him as I shake off my cut and pull my leather jacket outta one of the saddlebags. I slip it on and stow my cut away in the bag. He frowns at what I’m doing, probably figuring exactly why I ditched the cut—to go undercover and not get ID’d as Thorns. He knows the only reason I’d be doing that is to protect the club from what I’m gonna do—so, it’s gotta be bad shit.
But he don’t call me on it and just says, “All right.”
Shame Dealer don’t know when to back off like Smiter does. He barks at me, “Ax! Listen to me!”
Fuck him. I made the mistake before of trusting in someone. And that someone was Trig. Asshole ended up making me lose everything. Ain’t gonna make that mistake again by trusting Dealer here. Ain’t gonna let no one have power over me no more.
I don’t bother looking back.
I mount my Harley and gun it.
Time to get this shit done.
Chapter 3
~Ax~
Jackson O’Neil
The guy at the bottom of my hit list.
I gotta start at the bottom and work my way up. It’ll be quicker that way, cuz the higher up I go, the more complicated it’s gonna be to take each one of the fuckers on it out.
Ja
ckson was the only guy who ever managed to get outta the Devil’s Mavericks—my old man’s club—without dying in the process. Walked right when Skinner started getting into some disgusting flesh trade shit. That business venture was short-lived—club ran into too much heat over it. But Jackson didn’t give a crap. As far as he was concerned, he was done with Skinner and his club.
Problem is, Skinner always had to have the last word.
He castrated the poor bastard with a machete, telling him that he turned his back on his family—the club—so he weren’t gonna let him make his own. His punishment for leaving. Not long after, Jackson made a bunch of threats to take out Skinner’s non-club family—his blood. Me and any kids I had down the road. I was fucking stupid, cuz I never did shit ‘bout it and I even had a shot once, a couple of years back after I’d left Thorns. But I’d taken pity on the guy. Come on, what Skinner had done to him was brutal.
But now, all that pity’s gone. All I got now is conviction. All I see now is the threat he’d be to me leaving the club and tryin’ to settle down and start a family with Rox.
And no one is gonna be left to threaten us when I’m done.
It’s brutal shit, but I gotta do it. Only way me and her can ever be together—if all the threats are gone.
I swing my leg over my bike and make my way over to the office of the used car lot. Jackson lives where he works—in the apartment above his office.
Brushing my holster as I approach, my hand stills suddenly when I see the state of the door. The lock’s been shot out. Two bullets through it.
I quickly shake off the shock and get my shit together, ripping my gun outta my holster and cocking it real fucking fast.
I kick open the door, the force of it almost ripping it off its hinges.
I step inside to the pitch black office and feel ‘round on the wall for the light switch. I find it and flip it on.
And what I see has my breath catching in my throat.
Fucking hell.
Jackson’s in his chair, slumped over his desk, his face buried in the wood with half his head blown away. Blood, flesh and bits of brain matter are splattered all over the desktop.
Fucker’s already dead.
Someone else has taken him out.
I scan the room. No sign of anyone being here, except him being dead and the bullet holes in the door lock.
I’m ‘bout to check out the place for any clues on who the hell did this, but a voice outside in the lot stops me.
“I’ll save you the detective work.”
I spin to see Dealer standing there by the chain link fence.
“Guilty,” he tells me.
I step outta Jackson’s office and slam the door shut, hiding the blood bath inside. Shaking my head as I approach, I tell him, “Told you this is my fight.”
“And I told you, you made it mine with this crusade being ‘bout my daughter.”
“Fuck, Dealer. You crazy-ass bastard. Did you really need to be so fucking brutal ‘bout Jackson?”
He shrugs. “Guy put up a fight.” He pulls out his phone and I watch him screw ‘round with it, sending a text or something.
“What you doing?”
He finishes up and pockets it. “Thanks to you walking in there and touching shit, I gotta get someone up here to do a cleanup.”
“Didn’t touch nothing.”
“Your boots touched the floor, didn’t they? The door?”
Argh. “I can take care of my own shit, Dealer. Don’t underestimate me.”
“Ain’t, Ax. But you don’t got time for that right now. We got bigger problems.”
“What?”
“Forget ‘bout making your way up your list. Gotta take out the top dog. Right now.”
He pulls a piece of paper outta the back pocket of his jeans and shoves it at me. I snatch it from him and see it’s a copy of my list. “How’d you—?”
“You were in a rage ‘bout Ricky. Didn’t think twice ‘bout leaving me alone in your office. I lifted it and made a copy.”
He snatches it back and points to the top of the list.
Malcolm Kent.
I shake my head. “He’s last.”
“Yeah. I know why you need him to be last.”
“What?” I seethe.
“I know what he did to you.”
Fuck me. Can’t be going there. “Look, ain’t gonna discuss that. He’s last.”
“He’s resurfaced!”
Before I can get a word out, or remember how the hell to speak after hearing those words outta his mouth, he goes on, “There’s been a lot of talk the last few days. And, believe me, he’s the biggest threat right now. It can’t wait.”
“Cuz you decide?”
“He’s looking for Roxana.”
“He’s…why?”
“My question, too. I ain’t sure. Found out that the two of ‘em did some business a few years back.”
“Fucking hell. What was she thinking, getting mixed up with that sadist?”
“Roxana has a tendency to get mixed up with people she shouldn’t,” he says, pointedly.
I know he’s talkin’ ‘bout her getting mixed up with me. “I ain’t nothing like him.”
“Ain’t saying you are, but you ain’t exactly a model citizen either. You ain’t safe.”
Fine. Can’t deny that. I shift my weight and fold my arms across my chest, tryin’ to keep my shit together and not lose my temper from these revelations. “How’d you know Kent’s looking for her?”
“Cuz while I been keeping an eye on you and been away from Brockford, the asshole sent a couple of his Mafioso thugs in to shake up Ralph, to try to get her location. Guy ended up in the ER. Found out a few hours ago.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. He’s gonna be okay. He took down Kent’s guys, too. He knows how to fight. He should; I taught him and had him teach Roxana as well after I went to ground.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “We gotta pull her out before he gets to her. If he finds out ‘bout the two of you, he’ll lose his shit. Any friend of yours is another hit to him, yeah?”
“All cuz of what Skinner did to his mom.” He did some messed up shit to her. Took her, used her ‘round his club and then put a bullet in her head when he’d had enough of her.
“Yeah, well, with Skinner dead, you’re his target. And now he’s back, he’s gonna be gunnin’ for you, Ax. I’m willing to bet that’s why he’s tryin’ to find Roxana. She never kept her hatred of Skinner or bikers, in general, on the down low. He probably wants to partner up with her to take down you and the club.” He shakes his head with disbelief. “Little does he know that’s the furthest thing from reality these days. But, Ax, all he’s gotta do is see that tat of hers and he’ll put two and two together. Puts her in some major danger.”
“Where’s she at?”
He fists his hands in my jacket and jerks me closer. “If I let you make contact with her and tell you where she’s at, I want your word on something.”
“Say it.”
“You gotta be ready to fight. Gotta be all in.”
“What you think the damn list is all ‘bout?”
“I’m talkin’ ‘bout Kent. Like I said; I know what he did to you, Ax. You won’t admit it, but you’re scared. You got issues there with the twisted shit he put you through last time he got his hands on you. You gotta push that down and be ready. You think you ain’t, any part of you not on board with doing whatever it takes to bring that fucker down, then you making contact with Roxana again is gonna leave her as good as dead.”
“You got my word. Now tell me where the fuck my girl is.”
Chapter 4
~Roxana~
As soon as I close my eyes, he comes to me again. The one person I’ve failed to shake, but the one person I know I should. Why? Because he can hurt me. He is hurting me. The only man I’ve ever let inside my heart. Hell, not just my heart. My body. My fucking soul. And now all of that is ripped to shreds and it just won’t heal. It won’t.
I can’t…I can’t move past it.
Every night and every day he comes to me. Those promises I’d believed in so badly…so stupidly:
“I love you. I fucking want you and I’m gonna have you. Don’t give a fuck what no one says, who or what gets in my face, cuz I’ll pound it all into the ground…”
“But I—”
“But fucking nothing. I swear it, Rox. I’m gonna walk. Are you?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. We’ll start a new life together away from all this shit; all this darkness and death. Just us, babe.”
“Just us.”
I can see the look on his face even now. The determination. The honesty. He’d meant every word. He’d wanted it to be true.
But it never could be.
He walked away.
He left me.
I lost everything. Him. Our unborn child.
And me.
It shook me to the core. I felt the burn right down to the bone. It’s been almost a year since we were last together and six months since the last time I saw his face when he stood in my driveway and walked away. And, in all that time, it hasn’t faded away like I’d thought it would; like people say pain does. Time, right? Time is all you need. Just ride it out until then.
But once you’re broken, you’re broken.
And that’s me now.
Weak.
The shadow of the woman I had been.
The ball-buster that Neil had fallen in love with is gone.
I’ve lost her somehow.
In her place?
I don’t even know who looks back at me in the mirror now.
The business woman? The owner of Roxana’s Interiors; the interior design company I’ve been building up here in this new city? The sophisticated, lady-like designer who rubs elbows with all the high-rollers? Is that who I am now? It’s definitely the life I’ve built here.
But it’s not the life I want.
And it’s all because of him.
Neil Barron.
He opened up a part of me that I kept locked away for so many years. But once I’d let him in, I couldn’t get him out. He made me want things. He made me want a life that I can’t have anymore. Because of who he is and what he’s caught up in.
