THE INNOCENT: A Cowboy Gangster Novel

by CJ Bishop

  “What…what’re you gonna do to me?” the man croaked.

  Standing with his back to him, Cory curled his fist around one of their newest acquisitions. It was a beautiful piece of weaponry intended for ancient battle. Also, perfect for shredding the flesh and busting the bones of child sex traffickers. Cory wouldn’t be the one to use it first, but it felt good in his hand as he picked it up and faced the guest. The man’s eyes bulged in his head.

  “What…what the fuck is that?”

  Cory walked forward. “This pretty work of art is a medieval mace known as the silver-spiked Morningstar. I thought you two should meet as I’m positive the two of you will get up close and personal very soon.”

  “I-I didn’t touch any of the kids,” the man choked. “I-I’m not a pervert. I don’t have sex with children.”

  Cory stared at him dully and touched the spiked tip of the mace to the man’s forehead, pressing just hard enough to indent the skin. “You just hunt down the kids and deliver them to the ones who do.” He pressed a little harder and the man cringed as one of the spikes pushed through and drew a droplet of blood that trickled down between his eyes and along the bridge of his nose. “Explain to me how that makes you any less guilty? Any less of a sick fucking pervert-”

  The guest room door flung open, banging hard against the wall. Cory jumped and spun around as Angelo came through the door in a surge of fury and wrath, his burning eyes boring into their guest. “Uncle Angelo…”

  “Get out of my way, Corrigan.”

  It wasn’t often that his Uncle Angelo became enraged, but when he did, Cory knew better than to argue with him. He moved out of his path as the older man plowed past him and laid into the suspended prisoner, turning him into a human punching bag. Cory heard ribs crack beneath his uncle’s iron fists as he delivered blow after blow, cursing the man to hell.

  Clint, Cochise, Cruz and Cory’s father rushed into the room. Anthony pulled Angelo back as the guest sagged on the chains like a rag doll. Angelo’s chest heaved, his jaw clenched and nostrils flaring with surging breath.

  “Easy, baby,” Anthony said. “Save some for the rest of us.”

  Tears burned in Angelo’s eyes as he stared at their battered guest, his fists squeezed tight at his sides. “I want him taken apart piece by fucking piece. No one hunts our children.” He wrenched away from Anthony and threw another punch, striking the man square in the chest like a battering ram. Every ounce of air left in his lungs burst up his throat as his body swung backward and his eyes rolled up in his head. Angelo turned to Cory and held out his hand for the mace. Cory handed it over.

  “That thing will kill him pretty quick,” Clint warned.

  Angelo shook his head as he wielded the weapon. “I’m not going to kill him,” he muttered low, moving toward the man again. “I’m just going to take a pound of flesh for Adrian.” He swung with all his strength and struck the man in the side of the knee, the large razor-sharp spikes sinking to the hilt. The guest let out a gargled scream and his body jerked violently. Angelo’s face twisted with rage and satisfaction as he ripped the weapon free, bringing with it a strip of the man’s pant leg, shreds of flesh—and his kneecap.

  The guest went into convulsions. Blood splattered the floor and pooled on the concrete as his lower leg dangled uselessly.

  Anthony turned to Cory. “Go back upstairs. Help Adrian and Callum with the kids. We’ll take care of this.”

  Cory hesitated.

  “Corrigan,” his father spoke sternly. “You know what I told you. This isn’t your life anymore. You only participate when absolutely necessary.”

  Angelo looked his way, his stare insisting Cory listen to his father. In both men’s eyes was the lingering pain of Shay’s loss; they were taking no chances of losing Cory as well.

  “Yes, sir,” Cory murmured quietly and left the guest room, understanding better than ever Axel’s issues with being left out of this world. Yet, unlike Axel, Cory had grown up in the gangster world; it was all he knew. But he would willingly step back if that’s what it took to put his father and uncle’s minds at ease. Was Axel willing to do the same for Clint?

  •♦•

  With their baths finished, Jacob and the other kids were led to the dining room and seated around the large table. This was a new experience for Jacob, and surely most of the others as well.

  “Because you’ve been deprived,” Adrian told them, “I want to keep your first couple meals light, give you a chance to get used to eating properly again. If you take in heavy food too soon, it could cause nausea. But never fear,” he added with a smile, “you will nonetheless get plenty to eat. What you’ve been smelling is a hearty chicken soup with dumplings. You can also have crackers with it if you like.”

  Soup sounded good to Jacob. And no one else was complaining either, but rather waited eagerly to be served. Another man, a couple years older than Cal, had shown up and was introduced as Cory. He helped Adrian and Cal dish out the soup and dumplings and bring the bowls to the table, along with a dish of saltine crackers.

  The overeager faces of the younger kids prompted Adrian to urge them to take their time and not eat too fast. Jacob watched Samson as his bowl was set before him. Until this very moment, there had been a shadow of doubt on the child’s face about whether they would actually get to eat good food, even though Adrian had assured them they would. The doubt melted away now as his little face lit up and he breathed in the scrumptious aroma of the chicken soup. Jacob smiled and blinked back tears when the little boy looked at him and the biggest grin Jacob had ever seen spread across Samson’s face.

  For the rest of his life, Jacob doubted any meal would ever taste as good to him as this first bowl of chicken soup. A cacophony of pleasurable moans drifted around the table as the kids began to eat. It wasn’t easy, even for Jacob, to eat slowly but he tried. What chills the bath hadn’t chased away, the hot soup did as it warmed him from the inside out. They were served milk to drink, which tasted almost as good as the soup.

  Jacob nearly lost his composure when he noticed tears on some of the kids’ faces as they consumed their meals. From the moment they’d been taken from the warehouse, all of them had wanted to cling to the hope that they were saved…for real. The baths, clean clothes, and hot meal had worked together to make that hope a reality and it was finally sinking in—for Jacob as well—that this wasn’t a trick, that these men weren’t simply a different breed of monster…but, in fact, true saviors.

  Jacob hadn’t decided if he believed in God yet, but as he glanced at Adrian, Cal, and Cory…and considered the men who had rescued them…he knew he now believed in angels.

  •♦•

  The kids were in the middle of their meal when the Phoenix brood showed up with the clothes. Oliver’s wife, Emmy, and Lex’s niece, Miranda, was with them. Adrian was shocked to find the deep trunks of both cars stacked to the brim with bags and boxes of brand new clothes and shoes and boots.

  “Did you leave anything in the stores?” Adrian joked.

  Angel laughed. “Not much.”

  They had kept the girl clothes separated from the boy clothes and the appropriate bags and boxes were delivered to boys’ and girls’ rooms.

  “How are they doing?” Caleb asked with concern.

  “Good,” Adrian said. “They’re eating right now.” He paused as his throat lumped up and eyes stung.

  “What is it?” Savannah asked softly.

  Adrian shook his head and cleared his throat. “It’s just that, when we served them soup and crackers…you would’ve thought they were staring at a gourmet feast.” He swallowed thickly. “I don’t understand how some people can abuse kids this way.” His gaze darted to Abel and Angel; he knew their stories of abuse as well. Both boys had tears in their eyes, understanding firsthand what these kids were going through. All of them understood, really. Savannah and Maddy had been spared the abuse but had shared in the nightmare along with their brothers. Perhaps Caleb hadn’t been sexually abus
ed as a child, but rape was rape, and the boy had suffered his fair share of pain, mistreatment, and humiliation.

  When they entered the dining room and saw the kids for the first time, the seven of them went dead silent. It was one thing to be told about the kids and their malnourished state…and quite another to see them with one’s own eyes.

  Emmy teared up instantly. “Dear Jesus,” she whispered as her heartbroken gaze drifted from one gaunt face to another. “These poor babies.”

  The kids paused and stared at the newcomers, uncertainty on their faces.

  Adrian introduced them all then told the kids, “When you’re finished eating, you can change into clothes that fit.” He laughed quietly. “They certainly bought enough.”

  “Courtesy of the Kaplan-Raines bank card,” Caleb quipped lightly, though anguish shadowed his eyes as he looked at the kids.

  •♦•

  When the others resumed eating, Nina sat motionless, her gaze locked on the older woman who appeared positively heartbroken at the sight of them all. She was the very image of the fantasy mother Nina used to dream about when she was younger. A mother who showed up like an angel from God, wanting a young girl for her daughter and not caring that she was older and not a baby. Nina suddenly felt like that young girl again and fought the need to run to her and throw herself into the woman’s arms, call her momma, and beg her to take her home and love her as her own.

  Tears were running down her face and she couldn’t stop them. Some of the kids had stopped eating and were staring at her, the younger ones tearing up, not understanding why she was crying. The woman was looking at her, too, her eyes shimmering.

  “Nina…” Jacob murmured uncertainly.

  Nina trembled and hurriedly stood up from the table. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to no one in particular and fled the room. She ran back to the bedroom, hardly acknowledging the stacks of clothing bags and boxes piled on the floor by the bureau. She fell on the bed and buried her face in a thick, soft pillow and sobbed her heart out.

  When someone entered the room moments later, she expected it to be Jacob or Kim. A gentle hand touched her back and rubbed soothingly as the person sat down on the bed.

  “It’s going to be all right, sweetheart.” The woman’s voice, soft and tender. “Everything’s going to be all right now.”

  Her motherly comfort enforced Nina’s sobs and she sat up suddenly and wrapped her arms around the woman’s neck, clinging to her as she cried against her shoulder.

  The woman held her deep in her arms and assured her over and over that she was safe now and no one would ever hurt her again…she promised.

  Chapter 7

  Clint’s focus momentarily centered on Cochise. The Egyptian had helped take out the sex traffickers back at the warehouse without incident, exhibiting none of the issues he’d experienced when they’d gone after Adrian’s brother, Tazz. He hoped his friend wasn’t just burying the shit deep inside, refusing to admit a problem even to Clint. Though the man was obviously in love with Kane and loved his new family, adjusting to “domestic” life was a little tougher on the Egyptian than it was on Clint. If not for John, maybe it wouldn’t be. But that guilt was rooted deep and twisted all through Cochise.

  The Egyptian met his stare, a slow frown pinching the skin between his eyes.

  Clint shifted his attention to their bleeding guest. He walked over and stood in the man’s blood and grabbed his face by the jaw, forcing his head forward. “Do you know what we do to sick fucks who stick their cocks where they don’t belong?” He arched his brow. “Do you?”

  Spit gurgled in the man’s throat and dribbled from the corners of his mouth in foamy trickles.

  Clint leaned closer, squeezing his jaw. “It isn’t pretty.”

  “I didn’t-” the man started then wailed as he caught a fist to the kidney, courtesy of Anthony.

  “I. Don’t. Care.” Clint snarled close to his face. “You came after our kids to hand them over to men who would rape them. Kids. Babies.” His teeth clenched fiercely, Clint put added pressure on the fucker’s jaw until he felt it start to dislocate. The man’s eyes bulged and widened as he struggled in panic. Clint held on. “Can you imagine the excruciating pain a child suffers when raped by a grown man?”

  The guest stared back him through watery, bloodshot eyes.

  “Answer me!” Clint released his jaw. “Fucking answer me!”

  The man choked on his own spit and rasped, “No…”

  Fury exploded through Clint and he punched the fucker in the diaphragm. His eyes rolled back and face turned purple, his neck cords constricting as he sucked desperately and frantically for air.

  Clint stepped back, face hard as granite. “I believe in educating the ignorant,” he growled. “So, you’re going to fucking find out just how much it hurts.” His jade eyes narrowed with a cold vengeance. “But first, we’re going to do some pruning. And we’ll start with the hand that touched my boy, Noah.” He leaned closer. “Which one was it?”

  Air wheezed in and out of the man’s constricted lungs as he looked at Clint in silent terror.

  “Tell me,” Clint demanded. “Or I will take them both. And I’ll fucking saw them off with a dull, rusty blade.”

  “The…the…left,” the man whimpered.

  Clint nodded at Cochise and the Egyptian worked the man’s left arm loose and stretched it out straight and taut. Anthony brought Clint a Jungle Master machete which featured a blade that swelled near the tip, giving it a more rounded edge with plenty of belly and weight, allowing the small-sized machete to move quick and hit hard.

  Their guest went into a panic. “Please…don’t…please!” He jerked against Cochise’s iron grip without budging the large Egyptian.

  Cocking his head, Clint narrowed his eyes to piercing slits and touched the tip of the machete to the man’s chin. “You beg for mercy just one more time…and I’ll cut out your fucking tongue. You motherfuckers ignore the pleas and cries of innocent children and then expect mercy for yourselves?” Clint leaned in, his mouth close to the man’s ear. “Fuck you,” he hissed as the blade came down hard and fast.

  The man screamed, and his arm came free of the Egyptian and dangled at his side, blood pouring onto the floor while Cochise stood unmoving, still gripping his hand.

  “Bring the torch,” Clint murmured dully as he watched their guest writhe and convulse, suspended from his right arm. “Cauterize that stump.” His face twitched. “It would be a shame if he bled to death before we get to the main event.”

  •♦•

  All the kids looked at Emmy when she returned to the dining room alone. Jacob glanced uncertainly from the woman to Adrian.

  “Is she all right?” Adrian asked.

  Emmy nodded, dampness in her eyes. “She’s asleep. Poor thing was exhausted.”

  “We don’t sleep very much,” Jacob mumbled.

  The woman gazed at him with warm sympathy and quiet anguish. “Now that you’re out of that awful situation,” she said gently. “All that will change. You poor darlings probably all need about a week of restful sleep.”

  Adrian agreed. “Some good rest will go a long way in helping all of you regain proper health.”

  The thought of restful sleep sounded good to Jacob. Just talking about it caused his eyelids to droop. He looked at Eric and imagined them napping together, not having to worry about being woken up at any given moment to be dragged off and brutally abused. Jacob wanted to take his hand, lace their fingers, and hold on tight. But he was suddenly uncertain about openly revealing his true feelings and affections for Eric. They had stuck close together since the men had come to the warehouse, but that could have been interpreted as two frightened friends clinging to each other. They weren’t just friends, though. What if these men were bigots? Just because they helped kids didn’t mean they liked gay people.

  His eyes shifting between Adrian and the others, it was hard to imagine them harboring that kind of hate inside them, but Jacob didn’t k
now these people. Hate didn’t always show through unless the person was confronted with the thing they hated.

  Following their meal, the kids were taken back to their rooms. Jacob and the boys were accompanied by Cal and the new arrivals—minus Emmy and the other two girls whose names Jacob couldn’t remember, who went with the younger girls to their bedroom.

  The young men began unpacking the new clothes and laying them out on the bed. Clothes of all sizes. Nice clothes. Jacob couldn’t recall a time in his life when he’d received brand new clothes, they’d always been secondhand, and most of them very used and worn out.

  The one who had been introduced as Angel—Jacob couldn’t forget that name—picked up a large bag and motioned Jacob over. “I thought this was about the coolest thing ever,” the young man smiled. His voice was soft, and his warm clear eyes reminded Jacob of crystals. He lifted the item from the bag and Jacob just stared at it, awestruck. “It’s a bomber jacket,” Angel said, caressing the dark leather and fur collar. “Also called a pilot or aviator jacket.” He hesitated then offered it to Jacob. “Try it on. Bet it looks great on you.”

  Jacob glanced at Eric who smiled and nodded. The jacket was heavy and when he slipped it on, he was immediately engulfed in warmth.

  “Wow,” Eric whispered, coming closer. He stroked the leather, his eyes drifting up to Jacob’s face. “You look…really handsome.”

  For a moment, Jacob got lost in the other boy’s eyes. He abruptly tensed when he felt the older boys staring at them. Eric backed off a bit, understanding as well as Jacob that not everyone was accepting of their kind of love.

  “He’s right,” Angel said, picking up on Jacob’s nervousness. “You do look handsome. It’s a great jacket. I got a similar one from my husband as a wedding gift. He has one, too.” Angel laughed lightly. “He looks better in it than I do. But then, he looks good in everything.” His friends readily agreed and commented on how gorgeous Angel’s husband truly was.