“Why do you look like I just fucked your mother?” Trapper asks as I jump up from the table.
“Randy has Emerson and says he shot Old Dog. Wants his brother.”
Trapper’s eyes grow big while the others come closer.
“Alive,” I add, not knowing what to do other than ride over there and kill this fucker, too.
“That explains the phone that keeps ringing by the couch,” Judge informs before looking over his shoulder and back into the small space.
“Guess the devil doubled his due for today,” Rowdy calls out, making his way to his bike.
Without a plan, without another word, we all mount and ride.
Hang on, Em. I’m coming to save you.
Chapter Sixteen
~Emerson~
“Why the sudden questions, Earl?” I hear Randy raise his voice.
Dammit! Dover said business as usual. Earl is going to mess this up for everyone.
I rub the yellow ribbon inked on my wrist. Raleigh deserves justice.
“Just wonderin’ if you got family.” Earl tries to sound casual.
“Never cared before,” Randy fires back.
“I opened my doors to you. Sonnie is the daughter I’ve never had, and I put her in your path. When I ask you a question, boy, you answer it!” Earl shouts, blowing any type of explanation out the window.
That explains his reason for not staying quiet. He thinks he needs to save me from something he brought to my doorstep. I don’t need a fucking hero; I need my man to get justice for his little sister’s death. I wish Earl would have thought through what happens when you poke a sleeping bear. Hell, we don’t even know for certain he is involved.
“I don’t owe you shit, old man. As for your precious Sonnie, she’s a cunt who can suck my dick!” Randy shouts just as I make it to the doorway.
Earl shifts, pulling a gun on Randy. “You listen here. You’re gonna sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and wait for the boys to get back. Then, if they decide you’re innocent, you’re gonna pack your shit the fuck up and get the hell outta my town.”
So much for keeping anything under the radar. I shake my head, trying to find a way to shut Earl up.
“If who finds out what?”
“Collector and the Devil’s Due brothers are gonna find out, Randy, and when they know all your truths and your lies, it’s gonna be their punishment you face.”
Arrogantly, Randy stares down Earl, still not sitting down like he was ordered to. Unaffected by the gun, he keeps going. “Exactly what are they gonna find?”
“That little girl who’s missin’. She better not be at your place right now, boy.”
Randy’s entire face changes, and his body shifts. “Ralphie.” The name comes out in a hushed whisper.
In an act of aggression that I have never once seen from Randy in three years, he lunges toward Earl, tackling him. They both fall to the ground, fighting for dominance. I reach into my back pocket to grab my phone, but I find it’s empty. I left it on the counter in my room when I was sketching.
Fuck!
My heart stops, my mind blanks, and I freeze. I need a weapon. I can’t think straight.
Just as I go to launch myself into the rumble, there is a pop, followed by a grunt.
Seconds feel like hours as Randy climbs off Old Dog with blood staining his shirt. The man who has been my rock for so many years now grips his chest as blood continues to seep out onto his overalls.
Pain hits my gut as if someone kicked me. My chest tightens as my mind registers Earl’s situation. No matter what happens, I have come to love the old brute. He can’t get hurt because of some guilt-fed moment of insanity that led him to believe he could save me.
Devious eyes meet my stare as Randy raises the gun at me. “Sit down, Sonnie.”
Fear twists inside me like a tornado rushing through. If I blink, this could be the end.
They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re in danger. I call bullshit. My mind doesn’t think about the past, the present, or the future. Nope, all I feel is anger. This piece of shit motherfucker just shot the man who has opened his business to both of us. And for what? To protect someone named Ralphie? Well, who gives a damn?
Earl may have pulled the gun on him first, but he didn’t fire. He only wanted answers. That’s all any of us want.
Well, answers first and justice second. There will be justice today. If not for Raleigh and the girls, at least for Earl.
“Fuck you, Randy.” I rush to Earl’s side.
He tries to sit up, letting out a moan in pain.
A hand grips my hair, yanking, and the pain shoots down my neck and spine.
“I said sit down, Sonnie.” Randy drags me over to the table and chairs in the room.
Arms flying, I try to grab his wrists and relieve the tension. My heart races, my hands sweat, and I can’t take my eyes off Earl against the wall. The Old Dog’s eyes meet mine, and I feel his pain, which makes me more amped up.
“You don’t have to do this,” I try to talk him down as I watch Earl fighting to breathe. I can only assume the bullet hit his lung or something vital.
“Shut up, Sonnie.”
Speaking before I think, I spit out, “Or what, Randy?”
The butt of the gun hits my cheek, splitting it as a sharp pang rattles through my head. Dover is going to kill him when he gets here, is my first thought. My second thought is, He better pray he didn’t have anything to do with the disappearance of anyone, or I’m going to cut his dick off and feed it down his throat.
Innocent people don’t act like this.
Narrowing my eyes on him, I don’t hide the fact that I’m not going to be easy to handle.
He only laughs.
“You send your boys after me?”
“They’re not my boys; I just met them. You got something to hide?” I should shut up, yet I can’t help myself.
The thoughts of getting out of this don’t hit me. My mind is blank. Instincts are all that I have, and they are screaming to help the man who has helped me for so long.
There are no more doubts about whether Randy Jones is innocent or guilty. I really don’t give a fuck what he has or hasn’t done. He shot Earl, and Earl’s been good to Randy … or whoever he is. He didn’t deserve to be shot.
No matter how upset I am about Earl’s reason for coming into my life, he’s been good to me. That’s where Randy crossed the line with me. He shot a good man to protect a bad one.
Turning my head, I look over to see Earl’s breathing slowing. He closes his eyes as he tries to hold pressure on his wound.
“Better hope nothing has happened to my brother,” Randy says, bringing my attention back to him.
I raise an eyebrow at the wild-eyed man in front of me. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“Twin,” Randy explains, wildly swinging his hands around with the gun firmly in his hold. “I can’t live without him. You better hope, Sonnie … you better hope…” His voice cracks. He truly is unstable. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my brother.”
On a gasp, I whisper, “Even kill?”
His mouth moves into a treacherous smile. He raises the handgun and aims.
Flying out of the seat, I try to grab his wrist as the pop rings out. “Nooooooo!” I cry out as I hear Earl grunt before the gurgling sound of his own blood comes out of his mouth, assaulting my ears.
Randy laughs while the tears hit my cheeks before I can even comprehend everything going on around me.
“Yes, I’d kill for my brother any day.” His cackle is maniacal as he continues to justify his actions. “Momma always said I was my brother’s keeper.”
Instinctively, I grab my wrist to rub my tattoo. If ribbons really were like super powers, I could use a ton.
Looking into the cold, dark eyes of the man in front of me, I realize I was wrong.
He’s not afraid to get dirty. On the contrary, he’s very good at cleaning up. Randal Jones has spent his
lifetime cleaning up his brother’s messes.
One after another.
How many have there been? I don’t really think I want to know.
My mind spins in circles like I’m on a bad carnival ride I can’t get off of. I will be next. The fear allows me to see what could have been, the losses I will have.
I won’t ever get to tell my parents I didn’t want to hurt them when I left, that I just needed space.
Looking at Earl, I let the tears fall down my face. I won’t get to tell him I understand and love him for it. Closing my eyes, I picture the iris ones I have seen for so long; only, the face holding them isn’t hers. It’s Dover’s. I’m not going to get to tell him he gave me the best night of my life. I’m not going to have a chance to see if there could be a future between us. As much as I protested inking him, I will never be able to leave my forever mark on his body the way his has on my heart. Today will be my last day.
Randy Jones is not afraid to kill me. If I want to get out of this, I need to be smart.
“Think this through, Randy.” I fight to keep my voice steady.
He reaches in his back pocket and dials a phone number. I hear the generic voice of an operator click on.
“I didn’t know you had a phone,” I try to distract him.
“Shut up, Sonnie.” He paces frantically around the room, trying to call someone again.
When that fails, he goes to Earl who lies on the floor, turning blue.
Jumping up, I rush over as Randy stands over his body. This is my moment. I have to seize every opportunity I can.
He leans down, and I slam into him from behind. His head crashes into the unforgiving wall in front of him. The gun remains firmly in his grip as he swings his arm, knocking me off balance before aiming at me. I brace for the pain that doesn’t come.
“Not gonna shoot you yet, Sonnie.”
With the gun still aimed at me, he digs in Earl’s pockets until he finds his phone then starts flipping through screens. Finding whatever he was looking for, he dials a number.
“You got my brother,” Randy, eerily relaxed, speaks into the phone. “I have your woman. If Ralphie dies, Sonnie dies; an eye for an eye. Bring my brother to the shop—no cops—and I’ll let her go. You have fifteen minutes before I put a bullet in her brain.” There is a pause as I fight back my panic, knowing Earl is dead, and I’m most likely next. “We wouldn’t want her to bleed out all over Old Dog’s floor like he is, would we?” After a swipe to the screen, he throws the phone down on Earl.
He looks at his shoes in disgust. “Got blood on my soles. Such a shame; I just broke these shoes in.”
The man in front of me is a monster. He has no remorse for killing a man who gave him an opportunity.
Stepping away from the body, he stands over me. Then he grabs my hair, pulls me up, and tosses me onto the table.
Silence only makes me more anxious.
“Dover won’t come alone,” I say, trying to sound confident. “You gotta know that.”
“Shut the fuck up, cunt.”
I feel my face redden in anger and fear. “You know what, I have a cunt, Randy. I am not a cunt; there’s a difference. Up until today, you had a dick, but you weren’t a dick,” I press on, keeping his attention on me and not putting another bullet in Earl who lies unconscious. He’s choking on his own blood. I hear the noises, but I’m helpless to do anything except talk and hope I keep a third bullet out of his body. I hope that, even with the blueish tone to his skin, there is a chance for revival.
The more I think I have lost the man who gave me so much, the more I refuse to go down without a fight.
“You know what, Randy? I’m having a bad fucking day. I’m trying to help you here, yet you wanna call me names. Just think for a minute. The guys are all on bikes; how are they gonna get your scumbag brother here?” I wave my hands wildly. “Your brother, if he did that shit to Raleigh, to the other girls, then he’s a sick, twisted fuck. The fact that you clean up after him … Well, if you wanna call someone a cunt, I would start with your momma for raising two seriously sadistic fucks.”
The backhand comes to my face, adding to the already damaged side from before. “That all ya got?” I spit blood onto the floor at his feet. “Maybe you’re the one with the cunt. You and your brother only get it up for little girls because you’re too much of a pussy for a real woman.”
“Bitch, I didn’t fuck those girls. He did!”
My stomach does somersaults as I fight to keep from puking. He really did it, or his brother did, anyway. All these years, all these towns, and all along, Randy Jones, or whoever he is, could have stopped it.
The man in front of me could have saved my best friend from her brutal death. The man in front of me changed my life forever. The man in front of me deserves the hell he’s going to get.
I spit out my last words before the blow comes again. “When the devil calls to collect his due, I can’t wait to fucking answer!”
Chapter Seventeen
~Dover~
Randal Jones, or whoever the hell he is, didn’t think this through. He’s reactive, and reactive is bad. He has no plan, no forethought of the consequences to his actions. He only thinks minute by minute. One wrong move and he’s dynamite that will blow. We have seen more than enough guys like him over the years.
Unpredictable.
The whole situation seems to have blown up in our faces. The man is clearly off his rocker, as was his brother. Unpredictable people are more dangerous. This will make us reactive rather than proactive. I don’t like being behind the curve when I can’t see what is up ahead.
As we climb on our bikes, I look at X. “Take the ribbon with the hair and see what you can find out. Rowdy, ride with X. We’ll see if we can buy time with Randy by telling him that his brother is with y’all.”
With a nod, they do as told, and we all pull off. Dropping my left hand to my gas tank, I run my thumb over the small, yellow ribbon I painted on my bike. My chest burns at the thought of my little sister. Is this what he did to her? Cut her first, let her bleed, then raped her?
Slowing down, I let Trapper, Judge, and Deacon pass me before I lean to the side and throw up. It splatters unceremoniously onto the pavement. With the back of my hand, I wipe my mouth, wishing I could throw up more. However, Emerson needs me, and I won’t let her down.
“I’m sorry, Raleigh,” I say to the air as we press on.
The shop sign reads open when we pull up, making me wonder what exactly we could be walking into. Did any clients come in? How did Randy handle that?
None of us hesitate to get right to action. Trapper and I walk in through the front door while, with Deacon’s history in the SEALs, he automatically moves to the back. We have no plan, no exit strategy. Pure instincts fuel us; we will deal with the aftermath when it comes.
Inside, I sense the fear from Em without even seeing her. As I walk down the hallway to the back breakroom, adrenaline pushes me to a different level. I feel like I could leap tall buildings or move houses with my bare hands.
“Superman ain’t got a fuckin’ thing on us, bro!” Trapper says from behind me, and I can only think he feels it, too.
Standing in the doorway, I see Earl hunched over in the corner, sitting in his own blood. Rage consumes me before I turn to Em and find her face swollen, bloody, and tear-streaked.
This motherfucker is going to die today!
“Where’s Ralphie?” Randy asks, eyeing me suspiciously while keeping his gun aimed on Em.
“Well, your brother didn’t wanna ride bitch, so we left his ass at home,” Trapper answers. I don’t know if I want to shove my fist down his throat for his arrogance or laugh.
“He’s with X and Rowdy. You can go to him,” I try for a different approach.
There is an eerie calm to this man who just put multiple bullets in Earl. This is a dangerous combination in a person. Knowing what his brother’s capable of, there is no doubt in my mind that he will shoot Em just to make me watch
her die.
I can’t help remembering the look in Ralph’s eyes when he realized we caught him. The venom in this man’s eyes is toxic without his touch. Randy is definitely not afraid to hurt anyone who threatens the life he built.
Looking at Randy now, I can see slight similarities in height, bone structure, jawline, and their eyes are both an emerald green.
He gives me a smartass smirk like he has my number. “He’s not answering the phone. We’re not going anywhere until I hear from him.”
“He’s taking a nap,” Trapper replies frankly as he steps into the room and over to Earl.
When we get out of here, I’m going to punch him in the nuts. He could get Em shot, and he’s acting like he’s a fucking EMT. He needs to damn well remember the crazy fucker in front of us has a gun.
“You got it wrong,” Randy says, and for the first time, his voice cracks. Time passes as he seems to reflect on something. He doesn’t stop Trapper from trying to check Earl, and he doesn’t seem to notice I’m standing beside Emerson. At least we know he’s not a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy.
“Ralphie.” His voice softens, and the fight seems to lessen in his demeanor. “He didn’t mean to hurt those girls. He really just found them pretty. He just wanted a little of their happiness.” Randy seems to be trying to justify what his brother did, what he did.
I fight not to throw up again. My sister was not some sick fuck’s key to happiness. She was an innocent little girl with bright eyes and a huge smile. She was going to be a veterinarian when she grew up because they wrap animals up in colorful bandages, not the ugly tan ones grownups get, she would say.
She was color. She was everything bright. When she disappeared, everything good vanished with her.
“You gotta know, he tried to make it easy for them.” Randy’s face contorts in what I think to be his version of empathy. “That’s why he cut them. The first one, she screamed. When Grandpa said showed his love, it always hurt. Ralphie didn’t want them to hurt, so he opened them up first.”
In The Red: Nomad Bikers (Devil's Due MC Book 1) Page 11
