Bo (Bad Boys of Retribution MC Book 3)

by Warren, Rie

  “V.” I reached out to touch her face as soon as I took my seat.

  She recoiled. “Don’t. Don’t touch me. Don’t call me V again. Please take me home if you must, and don’t ever contact me again.”

  In the dim lights of the truck cab, I hit reverse, barely hearing her low sob, “I’m not strong enough to let you go again.”

  As I drove downtown the heavy silence threatened to engulf me. Funny. I’d always welcomed silence and solitude before. Now I didn’t know how I’d go back to it.

  The sky darkened outside, but the streetlights illuminated Veronica’s face. She stared blankly ahead.

  I gripped the steering wheel when all I wanted to do was gather her to me.

  “You know I wish I could be different with you,” she murmured.

  “I don’t know anything at all.” I aimed a half-hearted grin at her. “Fucked in the head, remember?”

  “No, you’re not. You’re an incredible man. I wish . . . I wish things were normal for us.”

  A tear sailed down her cheek. She wiped it angrily away, turning her face from me.

  Reaching across the seat, I pulled her hand into mine. She took hold of me, interlocking our fingers. My heart clenched, and I just kept hoping she’d change her mind.

  Winding through the narrow downtown roads on automatic pilot, I stopped outside her house.

  “Can I help you with your bags?”

  “I don’t think so.” She slipped her fingers from mine.

  I hopped out before she could pry open her door. I was there in a heartbeat, helping her out. There was no way in hell I was letting her carry her weekend bag by herself no matter what she said. I walked behind her up the stone steps, holding her carryall.

  Unlocking the front door, she flicked on a light. Her red hair suddenly blazed. Her damp eyes drifted away from me as she reached for her bag. I tucked it against my chest like a football, placing my foot against the threshold of the door for good measure just in case she decided to slam it in my face.

  “Let me come in and do a quick check.” I couldn’t help it. The idea of leaving my woman alone when I hadn’t made sure her house was safe set my nerves on edge. “Humor me just this one last time.”

  She stepped away from the door, letting me in. I didn’t care if the woman was breaking up with me. Her safety came first and foremost.

  “I’ll be upstairs.” Turning on her heel, she left me aching to touch her one last time.

  As soon as she was out of sight, I cased the lower floor. I couldn’t shake the feeling something was just off. Or maybe that was me and my head, focused on Veronica and our inability to commit to something better.

  I’d just hit the second floor landing when V called out, “Bo! BO! Someone’s her—”

  I sprinted up the remainder of the stairs to the third story. The rooms spread out from the landing, dark as pitch. I heard a muffled scream to my left. Wishing I had my KA-BARs or my Beretta, I flattened myself to the wall outside Veronica’s office and shifted my head around the corner.

  The kickback of a gun blasted through the room seconds before a bullet shrieked past my ear.

  Dropping back and down into a crouch, I yelled, “What the fuck’s going on V? Talk to me!”

  “V? We used to call Vivian Vixxxy.” A bass male voice grunted from inside Veronica’s office.

  Chapter Twelve

  VIVIAN? VIXXXY? WHAT?

  Hands out in front of me, I rounded the doorway. My eyesight went full radar mode, my body on high alert, every cell humming with danger.

  Veronica stood in the shadows, trapped in front of a big man who winched a forearm around her windpipe. That forearm was marked in ink, and the muscles stood out as he fractionally tightened his grip.

  “I never told you the truth!” V gasped.

  “Let her fucking go now.” The words broke free of my tight lips like shredded bullets.

  “Nah.” The extra long barrel of a hushed HK appeared, aimed at her temple. “See, I been after Vixxxy for almost ten years now, since she turned federal witness against the MC.” The man caressed the soft skin of her cheek with the muzzle of his Heck. The touch was sickeningly tender as his nails-and-saws voice softened a notch. “You don’t know your lady half as well as I do.”

  He reached down and cupped her mound in a rough grasp.

  Rage fired in my veins. “Do not touch her again.”

  Lifting his hand, the man snickered. “What you gonna do ’bout it, Marine?”

  I did not let my shock show. I’d been in worse scenarios, just never with my woman involved, my woman the target.

  “That’s right. I know all about you and Doctor Hartley here. Got me a whole dossier on the two of you.” He kissed the top of her head. “She’s good in bed, yeah? A fucking wildcat in the sheets.”

  “Bo, I—”

  “Shut up, bitch.” He slapped her face with a loud blow.

  “Get your fucking hands off her.” I barreled forward, slamming the man from the side.

  He grunted, his arm still locked around V’s throat.

  Crouching low, I pummeled his lower back, aiming kidney-level.

  With a deep hiss he spun her face to face with me, her hair fisted hard in his hand.

  “Uh unh. You don’t wanna come at me anymore, soldier boy.” The Heck waved warningly at Veronica’s T zone.

  Curling up to my feet, I stepped back.

  “I will goddamn kill you in the worst possible way if anything happens to her.” My steel-plated voice splintered through the pitch black room.

  “I’m probably gonna get killed either way, so you ain’t got no bargaining chips. I got one last job to do, and I’m gonna make sure Vixxxy here doesn’t give her final testimony against Saul. You? You’re gonna sit your ass down in that chair”—the man stepped out of the darkness into a shaft of light beaming through the window—“until we leave, unless you want me to drill a bullet into her brain right here in front of you.”

  No choice but to comply with the man’s demands, I dropped into the seat. Craning forward, I watched every move he made, noted every spot he placed his hands on V, and vowed to slice him apart limb from limb.

  With Veronica wrenched in front of him, the man backed toward the door. His features were indistinct. A skull-cut, tats on his chin and cheeks, the bulky man looked like the devil himself. I snarled at him. The devil would be no match for me once we were on even ground.

  Just before he pulled her out the door, I shouted, “Veronica! You stay alive, goddammit!”

  He muffled her reply with a hand wrapped around her mouth.

  “By the way, Marine.” He turned his head. “Follow us and you’ll be bagging her innards from the side of the road.”

  I slammed my head back, counting the seconds, listening to their footsteps—his pounding and loud, hers hesitant and off kilter.

  I will kill him. I will kill him. I will kill that motherfucker until he’s dead ten thousand times over.

  As soon as the front door banged shut, I shot off the chair. I leaped down the stairs, throwing the door wide open. Taillights disappeared at the end of her street. I managed to tag the last three letters on the license plate. Not that it mattered. The vehicle would’ve been stolen and would be quickly ditched.

  Back inside, I turned the place over for clues to V’s past.

  When I came up empty, I dialed Hunter.“I have a serious situation.”

  The man came instantly up to speed. “SITREP?”

  “It’s V. They’ve got her.”

  “V? You mean Ronnie?” I heard rustling sheets, a low murmuring voice—JB—then Hunter, back online. “What the hell is going on, Bo?”

  “She’s a fucking federal witness, and she’s just been grabbed from her house.”

  “Hang on. What?”

  “Exactly what I said.” I moved through the rooms of Veronica’s house one last time.

  “You want me to call in Walker?” Hunter asked.

  “No. Yes. No. Do it.” I
was walking circles around myself.

  Hunter’s silent partner only put his life on the line if there was something to gain. Then again, he was one motherfucking deadly operative.

  “Are you calling backup?”

  “Killian might be stateside.” Fuck. I hope Kill is stateside.

  “Slade?”

  “Yeah.” My first sergeant. My good friend. The man who’d been with me at the very end.

  “Reconvene at Retribution zero three hundred.”

  “I don’t want to wake anyone up.” I rubbed my knuckles against my forehead.

  “But it’s okay to fuck up my R&R with Jessica?” Hunter gave a low laugh. “Those dudes helped me out of a dicey situation. We’ll get Ronnie back, Bo.”

  Damn if Retribution wasn’t all ablaze when I roared up in the middle of the night. I’d locked down V’s house after a last lengthy snoop that turned up nothing and then hauled ass to the MC.

  Inside, the usual suspects looked no worse for wear. The clubhouse had been cleared out of all but the officers, who stood present and accounted for. Steaming cups of coffee instead of double shots of alcohol made the rounds. Brodie and Boomer Steele—the VP and Prez. Tuck, the grandfather treasurer. Tail, road captain. Handsome—who was looking less scarecrow and more beefed up.

  Coletrane lounged beside them. He wasn’t an officer.

  I slid a look to Hunter.

  His gold-yellow eyes glowed. “He’s a crack hand at intel.”

  “Walkin’ talkin’ Google.” Brodie rapped big silver rings on the bar top.

  Cole snorted, swallowing another swig of liquid caffeine.

  “Would you rather I call you Bing?” Brodie asked.

  “Cole will do.”

  “Okay, Probie 1.0.”

  “Eat me.”

  “I prefer pussy, not that you aren’t one.”

  Everyone chuckled during the moment of levity, but it didn’t last long.

  “What do you know?” Hunter leveled his stare on me.

  I relayed everything I’d witnessed from the first time I’d seen V’s obvious MC back piece to the moment she’d been kidnapped.

  “Yeah. You know enough to be dangerous.” Hunter slid a shot to me. Apparently I was in worse shape than I thought. “Drink that and get it together.”

  The vodka burned a trail down to my empty stomach.

  As soon as I slapped the glass down, Hunter placed himself between me and the other guys. “We’re taking this outside.”

  Outside the sky was dark, and Hunter and I stood like black shadows in the parking lot.

  Hunter hit me in the crosshairs of his eyes. “What else is cutting you up?”

  “You piss me off, Doctor Phil.”

  “That’s a good one. What else?”

  “I’m in love with her.” The loss of Veronica was right there, in my chest, where everything turned hollow without her.

  “Hurts, don’t it?”

  “Like a bitch.” I laid out the whole truth. “I didn’t tell her. She was trying to break it off with me because I needed more—Jesus. I needed all of her, and I knew she was hiding shit. This shit!

  “I let her be taken away from me. I didn’t even tell her what she means to me.”

  “Did you try to stop the guy?” Hunter asked.

  “Roughed him up a little. Didn’t have my blades though.” My nostrils flared and I gritted my teeth. “Couldn’t stop him. He threatened to kill her right in front of my eyes.”

  “Then you didn’t let her go without a fight. And the fight ain’t over yet.” He narrowed his gaze. “If there’s one thing about Ronnie? She isn’t stupid. She knows how you feel about her. Now what are you gonna do about it?”

  “I don’t know how.”

  He slung an arm around my neck. “The fuck you don’t. Follow the trail.”

  “They’ll kill her if we’re not prepped, and I don’t even know where to start to locate her.”

  “Follow the other trail. Use your instincts.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  THE OTHER TRAIL LED me back to V’s house while the guys at Retribution hit up the Internet, trying to connect what little I knew about Veronica to the soon-to-be-dead asshole who’d stolen her right out from under my nose.

  I staked out V’s place, slouching inside my truck, as dawn turned to day. I managed to keep my twitchy nerves at a low hum and refused to think about where she’d been taken, what her captors were doing to her.

  She’d been missing almost twelve hours when a sleek black unmarked sedan drew up in front of her house.

  Bingo.

  And so fucking obvious. If it looked like a Feeb, dressed like a Feeb, and drove a black unmarked . . . yeah. That.

  The tall lean man in the dark gray suit unfolded his frame from inside the car. He’d be fit from training but not as in shape as me. Plus, the suit. Sissy pants probably didn’t want to cause a wrinkle by getting in a fistfight.

  I exited my truck and followed softly behind him without making a sound as he strode up V’s steps. A quick fiddle-jiggle with some concealed picking tools later, he creaked the door open.

  As soon as he entered, I charged. I was on him before he could even close the door, slamming him face first against the wall.

  “I’ve been compro—”

  I grabbed hold of the back of his head with one hand and locked my forearm around the front of his throat. “You even think about calling this in, I’ll snap your neck.”

  He dropped his wrist with the oh-so-sneaky transmitter. Not.

  “You tapped?” I asked.

  “No.”

  Cranking his neck with more force, I heard his breath grow weedy. “Why should I believe you?”

  “I’m looking for Ronnie Hartley.” His voice grated out, roughened from the headlock I had him in.

  “Funny. Someone else came lookin’ for her last night. And he got her.” I kicked the door shut and shoved him into the closest room, V’s sitting room.

  With a quick pat down, I disarmed him of a series of boring government-issued guns, his watch transmitter, and his cell phones one and two.

  I waved him into a chair with one of his service weapons held in my hand. “You’re an agent. I’m assuming you’re Ronnie’s handler, and you’re too late to save her so you’re going to help me find her. I want to know everything.”

  The agent looked at me from cool bland eyes and a blank face. “I don’t know who you are. I can’t compromi—”

  Forcing the man back in his seat with two hands latched onto his shoulders, I snarled in his face. “Look”—reaching down I flipped open his badge—“Jenkins. You say compromised one more time I’m gonna compromise your airway with my fist shoved down your throat. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”

  After a quick flash of fear in his eyes, he dialed down the emotions and hashed out, “Fuck you.”

  “Final chance or I’ll just break your neck.” Instead of going for his throat as promised, I tossed one of his cell phones at him. “Call me in if you want to know who I am and what I’m capable of. I don’t give a fuck. Captain Bo Maverick. Force Recon.”

  After readjusting his sharp suit, he placed a call. His piercing gaze never deviated from me as he spoke and listened to the responses.

  I held my hand out when he finished the call, and he placed the phone in my palm.

  “Assuming you are who you claim to be, what’s Doctor Hartley to you?”

  “Veronica Hartley—or Vivian—is my woman. She’s my responsibility. Now do you have the balls to do the right thing and help me find her or not?”

  Jenkins hesitated.

  Squatting down in front of him, I went for pure honesty. “I’m gonna find her one way or the other. When I do, I’m taking out the threat against her.” I raised my eyes, as close to pleading as I’d ever been. “I’ll be saving your ass and the federal prosecution’s trial. So why don’t you suck it up and give me the intel.”

  “What do you know about the trial?”


  “I know Veronica’s due to stand witness in a few weeks—she told me she had to go away then. That isn’t going to happen if we don’t get her back, is it? And some Saul dude will walk free.”

  “Fuck.” Jenkins’s shoulders slumped with defeat. “Fuck!”

  “Yeah. Exactly.” I pulled a chair closer to his and lowered into it. “So start talkin’.”

  “You can’t let her die.” The man peered at me.

  “I have no intention to.”

  Jenkins worked a hand through his short salt-and-pepper hair. His lips twitched almost like he wanted to smile. “I wasn’t her first minder. She gave the slip to her agent one too many times. Landed him in hot water.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine that.”

  “Redheads, you know?”

  We both chuckled, but my laughter stuck in my throat.

  “You didn’t alter her appearance,” I muttered.

  “Like I said. She was, is, a tough cookie. After I was assigned to her, she learned how to keep a low profile. She got her life together. The government paid for her education and placed her here, but her career is all her own work. We figured it was quiet enough she couldn’t get into too much trouble.” Jenkins lifted an eyebrow in my direction.

  “Don’t look at me. I had nothing to do with this.”

  “You might be a marine, but you’re also MC. Should’ve known she’d never get free of the lifestyle.”

  A shiver raced down my spine. “How old was she when whatever it was happened?”

  “Twenty. She’s spent nine years as an outlaw from her own life. The thing is, she comes from a good family. Caring people. They don’t know what happened to her, and she can’t contact them.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Everything about V started making sense. The tat on her back, the comments she’d made about my folks and siblings, the little slip-ups about her past that had told me basically nothing at all.

  She’d recreated herself. Made a whole new life. And she could never go home.

  “Back then she was Vivian Young. She probably wasn’t ever a good wholesome girl, but she’d been brought up right. She just got hooked on motorcycles and tough guys when she was seventeen.”