Broken: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel

by Natasha Thomas

  Pulling me away from my study of Cage, Priest declares,

  “So that’s decided then? We send this half-wit into see if he can charm Lexi into telling him anything, and we wait for your call.” He nods to Rob.

  Halfway down the hallway already, Rob yells back over his shoulder with a grin plastered wide across his face.

  “I best go pretty myself up for the women folk then.” Serious as hell, there are times like these I want to claim I’ve got no association to the man. But he’s a trip, and there’s nothing boring about him hanging around Blackwater that’s for sure.

  Cage has a grin on his face too, and as angry as I’ve been with him, that all disappears when I see the look of utter relief in the slump of his shoulders and the rigidity of his spine. The man looked like he’d break earlier. Now he’s visibly relaxing in front of our eyes.

  “You’re on point today, Glock. Saint rode out and scoped out the route a few days ago, said there wasn’t anything to be concerned about, but just in case, we’re sending an extra brother or two along.” I don’t take offense to Priest sending me with more men than would usually be necessary. He doesn’t do this shit for no good reason. “Satan’s Sons have been pretty quiet lately, not sure whether that’s cause for concern yet, or a good thing. Word around is, Lucifer’s looking to diversify his trade. Guns and coke aren’t cutting it, he’s looking into street drugs for what they’re worth. Quick sales, shop and pop to high school kids, that’d be his biggest market as far as I see it. And while we don’t get involved in their shit, and they stay out of our for the most part, the potential for leakage into our neck of the woods is high.”

  Reluctantly I ask,

  “Any plan on what to do to stop that overflow? I mean, I want to keep the conflict with them to a minimum, just like the next man, but we can’t have that shit filtering over our way.”

  Head tilts of agreement go up all round, but Pipe’s the one out of the gate to speak next.

  “We’re thinking about using Liam to frequent their clubs, check things out. He’s the logical choice knowing what kind of background he comes from, who his family is. He’s already reached out to Brookes and asked him to look into what he can, but we need ears on the ground, in person, boots pounding pavement.”

  Brookes Patricks’ is one of the most badass private security specialists in the business, and one of Liam’s brothers. His oldest actually. With his years of military experience, ability to be a fucking ghost when he needs to be, and the skills he’s developed since starting EyeSee, the private security firm to the stars, Brookes is one deadly motherfucker. And definitely someone you didn’t want pitted against you.

  “Liam’s reaction to it,” Cage asks warily.

  “Pretty much what you’d expect. Asked if it’d bring any heat down on his brothers, if it was something he could take care of himself instead of involving them, the usual. After I laid it out for him, he got it, took it to Brookes, and got the head nod he’d take a look see. The kids’ got no problem staking their joints out though. He just wanted to make sure there’d be no blowback on his brothers or their business.” Priest states. I don’t blame Liam for being concerned. I would be too if it were my family on the line.

  Satan’s Sons aren’t a forced to be reckoned with like Devil’s Spawn or Vengeance, but no one needs an unnecessary pain in the ass. Not even guys as wealthy, well connected and well-armed as the brothers that man EyeSee. Liam mightn’t work with or for them, but he wouldn’t put them in a position that’d jeopardize everything they’ve built either.

  “Enough said. Liam will get to work on that in the next few weeks when we’ve got shit locked down. Hopefully Brooke will have something for us before then, but if he doesn’t keep your ears open, and your eyes peeled. I don’t want to miss anything this go around.” Standing, Pipe follows Priest to the door after he finishes up. Cage doesn’t make to move however.

  Signaling that he’ll be a few minutes they shut the door behind them leaving me alone with the man who wanted nothing more than to tear my head off with his bare hands not long ago.

  Silence descends before Cage breaks it starting out slowly. Cautiously even.

  “I owe you an apology. I don’t do this often, so I’m probably no good at it, but for what it’s worth I’m sorry.” He says smiling remorsefully. “I wasn’t proud of the shit I did that day, I’m even less proud of what I’ve done since. What kind of father cuts his only daughter out of his life for falling in love?”

  I can’t answer that, because in essence I’ve done the same thing to my own child. My unborn child, but nonetheless I’ve cut myself off from the opportunity of getting to know him or her from the outset. Staring at him I reply,

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it any more than you already have, brother. Lex is a forgiving soul, if there’s anyone you should be apologizing to, it’s her not me. As far as I see it, you and I are solid.” I add extending my hand to him.

  Taking it with no hesitation he pulls me in for a one-armed hug.

  “Means a lot, Glock. It shouldn’t have taken so long for me to get here, but I can’t change that. I do have something to say about the future though.” Stepping back he grins evilly at me. “It’s been brought to my attention I’d do well to keep out of my daughters’ affairs if I want a relationship with her.”

  Laughing, I grin back.

  “Let me guess, Kendall.”

  Getting serious he replies,

  “Yeah. She says to remind you, you still owe her fifty bucks, and if you don’t want her to take it out of your ass you best be getting it to her.” That only serves to make me smile wider. “Straight up though, you want to date my daughter I don’t have a say in it. I shouldn’t have said shit the first time round, and seeing as you’ve already knocked her up, I suppose I don’t need to lecture you about not making me a granddad too young, right?”

  Shooting him a wary glance I have to ask. It will eat at me if I don’t.

  “No fallout. No fucking treating me like a goddamned leper if I take you up on it?”

  Bellowing with laughter, Cage doubles over on himself. I don't know what the hell’s so funny. It was a serious question. One I’d like an answer to sometime this century too. Getting his shit together, Cage looks at me wiping the tears from his eyes.

  “You’re serious?” He enquires. At my nod his shakes his head half in disgust, half in amusement. “You think you got treated the way you did because you knocked my baby up?” I nod again as he mutters under his breath something about idiots, and morons. “Glock, you weren’t on our shit list because Lexi is pregnant. You ended up top of that list because didn’t come talk to me about it first.’

  “You’re joking aren’t you? Please tell me you’re fucking joking,” I all but beg.

  With a sad smile that makes my stomach clench, Cage goes on to explain where he was coming from.

  “The club is about brotherhood sure, but there’s core values that run far deeper than that even, and the big one, the one you shit on is respect. You knew being patched in, once you lost respect, everything else falls to shit. And what you did didn’t just disrespect me, it had a flow on effect for the rest of the brothers. Once respect is gone, trust is next. That’s why you were given the cold shoulder, Glock. Not because you impregnated my barely legal daughter.”

  That’s when I realize I should’ve followed my gut after all and burst out laughing. Through my almost suffocating outburst I manage to get out,

  “I had every intention of coming to you, you know. In the beginning, before I took our relationship anywhere I was going to come to you and ask for fucking permission to date, Lex. Shit happened, I overstepped my boundaries with her, and she told me she wanted space. She didn’t want me coming round anymore. Didn’t want me calling, nothing. I figured there was no point approaching you, because nothing was going to come of it. And nothing did, until the last day she was going to spend with me before putting an end to our friendship.” Looking him directly in the ey
es I turn solemn. “I promise you brother, I didn’t think it would play out the way it did, and until that day I didn’t lay a hand on her that wasn’t out of one hundred percent, plutonic friendship.”

  “That was never in question. Even though you pissed me off, I knew you two wouldn’t have been carrying on for long. It’s not the kind of man you are. But I warn you brother, you make me a grandpa a second time over before I’m forty, I’m gonna have to kick your ass. For real this time.”

  After all the heartache, missing Lex, and feeling ostracized from the club I’d gone through, one conversation with Cage had made me feel ten tons lighter. Pity that didn’t last more than a few hours. And when shit does invariably hit the fan, it does it two-fold.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Alexis

  “A friend will help you move.

  Your best friend will help you move…a body.”

  - Rotten eCard

  You know those days when you can sense how utterly crap-tastic your day is going to be as soon as you open your eyes? Yeah, well me too. So it looks like we’re both floating in the same boat up shit creek without a paddle now doesn’t it? Two days ago I woke up feeling like that. I should have pulled the covers back over my head and asked God for a do over, but sadly my luck wasn’t all that great.

  Banging on the heavy timber door in front of me I yell,

  “Can I get some water in here? I need to take my pre-natal vitamins.” The only thing I’m grateful for in the situation I find myself in now is that the person who tied me up, stuffed me in their backseat, and has been holding me hostage ever since, is a complete and utter moron.

  I mean, really? Who listens to the demands of hostages when they’re kidnapping them? And who is dumb enough to allow said hostage, just in case you didn’t realize that would be me, to get their purse claiming the importance of taking multivitamins every day is paramount to their baby’s health? Um…two guesses. Yep, you got it in one. The asshole who is holding me, that’s who.

  But wait, it gets better. Aforementioned dumbass was even more lax in their abilities by allowing me to keep the Santa sack I call a purse, and they did so without checking it first.

  Look, I’m not saying I wrote the handbook on kidnapping or anything, but surely you should be able to google that shit or something. I consider it personally insulting the idiot doesn’t think I pose much of a risk. Would it be too much to ask to be tied up, gagged, have an ankle cuff, something, anything? Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I actually want to be here, but if I have to be, I’d like it to be as authentic an experience as possible. I mean, how many times can a person say they’ve been legitimately kidnapped in their life? Not many

  Also, I find it astonishing in this day in age that anyone who owns a TV, or can read can possibly be this stupid. Not to mention the person knows exactly who I am and who my family is. So would you not think I’d pose more of a security risk than most? Obviously and categorically the answer is no. If you’re them that is. Me, I’d make sure my prisoner was effectively bound, gagged, and cowed before leaving them to their own devices, but what do I know? I only own a TV and thousands of books.

  The door swings open without warning, making me jump a good half a foot in the air. Jesus Christ. How did I not hear those footsteps coming? In four inch heeled pumps, you’d think I would have had more than enough notice to prepare for her entrance, but alas, the answer again sadly is no.

  And before you say what I know you’re thinking; yeah, yeah, this situation seems an awful lot like history repeating itself, doesn’t it? Unlike my mom, I haven’t been beaten or treated poorly however. Nor do I have any fucking clue why I’m here yet, but I can’t wait to hear the answer to that one. I’ve spent the last forty-nine hours pondering that question. I’ll also have you know, I happen to know the exact time because as I said, the dumbass left me with my purse, which has surprise, my cell phone inside. I might not have cell coverage, but Candy Crush Soda Saga has been doing a fine job of keeping me occupied between scheduled meal times.

  This is where my mom and I differ completely. I don't get scared easily, I’m calm under pressure, and this certainly is not one of those times that warrants a full-blown freak out. I know who I’m dealing with, and aside from the fact I think she’s had a psychotic break or something, I know I’m not really in harms’ way. She might be a whack job, but in the event of a fight I could kick her ass in thirty seconds or less.

  One of the things dad instilled in me from the time I was old enough to understand what he was saying was, do not panic. It doesn’t matter what situation I find myself in, don’t for the love of all that’s holy panic. They might not have been his exact words, but you get the gist. His repetition must have worked because I haven’t felt close to having a panic attack since I’ve been here. As a matter of fact, other than being furious that I’m missing ‘The Walking Dead’ marathon that’s on tonight, I’m not worried in the slightest.

  Sneering at me from behind the safety of the door, I hear her shrill voice just before she appears in the doorway.

  “What is it this time? Do you need to pee again?” She asks her tone full of frustration.

  Laughing at the pissed off expression on her face I say,

  “You do know that you kidnapped a pregnant woman, right? A woman pregnant with twins, which you should know like to use my bladder like a trampoline for their amusement.”

  “I see you’re pregnant Alexis, I’m not blind you know.” She spits venomously.

  Hmmm…that is still up for debate now isn’t it? She’s clearly either blind or not paying close attention if my purse hasn’t caught her eye in the entire time I’ve been here.

  “No, I don’t suppose you are,” I mutter. “I don’t need to pee this time though, but could you please get me some water? I need to take my pills now.”

  I suppose you’re wondering why I keep bringing attention to my pills. I’m sure you believe she’ll take notice I’ve been left unattended with all sorts of interesting electronic, and mechanical devices if I keep going on about it. Maybe she will, and maybe she won’t, at the end of the day, that’s the plan. I don’t hold out high hopes for her seeing the error in her ways this side of Thanksgiving and finally checking me for contraband, but you never know, I could be wrong. It’s been known to happen a time or two, but don’t tell my dad I said that or he’ll lord it over my head from now until the end of time.

  Anyway, the reason my pills are important is because they’re simply multivitamins, prenatal ones, but harmless if taken more often than required. I’ve kept her going in and out of here like a yo-yo so I can learn her patterns. Does she lock the door when she leave? If so, is it with a key, deadbolt, or both? When the door is open, are there any distinguishable sounds, sights, anything that could tell me where I am? Stuff like that. Like I said before, it was a mistake for her to think I don’t pose a risk, because she’s about to get the shock of a lifetime.

  The evil troll, or that’s what I’ve taken to calling her, rolls her eyes and walks away only to return a few minutes later with an unopened bottle of water and an apple. How gracious I think. At the same time mourning my usually ever present stash of Cheetos that I’m sure are missing me by now.

  Wriggling to get more comfortable on the lumpy, well-loved, (code for abused), mattress I ask,

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Looking over me warily she sighs.

  “As long as you know I might not answer it, sure, ask away.”

  The evil troll really could do with pulling the carrot out of her ass. She’d be a hell of a lot happier if she did. I mean, how comfortable could that be?

  “Why am I here? You haven’t demanded anything. You haven’t left to meet with anyone. And you don’t seem to be in any rush to get rid of me, so I suppose that’s my question; why?”

  Giggling like she has a secret she’s not telling she looks me up and down, perusing the length of my huddled over body. As if surprised I was actually asking, s
he blinks a few times before answering.

  “You know, I don’t know what he sees in you. You’re short, way too curvy,” she says emphasizing that last word. Thanks bitch. “And the way you speak is so unladylike. Why would he want someone like you, when he could easily have someone like me?”

  That didn’t really answer my question, unless it did, and the answer is I’m here out of some insane jealousy she harbors. Shrugging I feign disinterest in her little tirade,

  “Not sure. I’m not him, but when you talk to him, ask him yourself and see what he says.”

  Walking into the room, she perches herself on the small table in the corner picking at her long overdue manicure. Keeping a hostage tends to mess with your weekly grooming schedule apparently. Raising her head at my snort she demands to know what I find so funny.

  “Your situation here isn’t funny, Alexis. I have a plan, and I need you to help me carry it out. It shouldn’t be long now before all the pieces fall in to place. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when he chooses me once and for all.”

  See, delusional. What did I tell you? I’m sort of annoyed I won’t be sticking around long enough to see, what I’m sure in her mind is a brilliant plan play out. But whatever will be will be, you can’t win em’ all.