I point my thumb over my shoulder and turn around, leading them into the garage to the fucking precious table. The table I spent all morning sanding and screwing legs onto. Blackie reaches into his leather jacket and pulls out the meat mallet we gave him and hands it to Jack. He looks even more ridiculous than Blackie did holding that fucking thing.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?”
Demonstrating how he should call order to the table, Blackie taps the top of the table with the mallet before he hands it back to Jack.
“Like that,” he says.
“Fuck you, Black.” He takes the mallet in his hand and slams it against the wood. “Fuck, that feels good,” he mutters, pausing a moment before he takes in all of our faces and leans forward on his elbows. “I’m proud of you sons of bitches.”
He points to Blackie.
“You especially, you’re a born leader and when this body can’t handle this shit no more this club will be in capable hands.”
“I had a good crew,” Blackie replies, looking around the table.
We may be broken.
Some of us a little lost.
But together we’re fucking invincible.
“With that being said, we’re fucked,” Jack sighs.
Maybe not invincible.
“It’s going to cost a shit ton of paper to get the Dog Pound back. This place…” He waves a hand around the garage, “…isn’t going to cut it. We’re going to have to find a buyer for the guns sitting in Pops’ range. Riggs has been looking into any legit ventures the Bastards had that we can take over, but they were running smack all over Boston and looking to bring that shit here too, so there isn’t much to work with.”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupt. “Where’s Pipe?”
All eyes turn to Jack as he lets out a sigh and leans back.
“Pipe handed in his patch,” he declares.
“He went nomad?” Stryker asks.
“No,” Jack replies with a curt shake of his head. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a bunch of folded papers and throws them down on the center of the table. “The deed to this place.”
I knew Pipe was not in a good way but after the final ride I thought, well, I don’t know what I thought.
“He’s done with the club?” Deuce asks skeptically.
“He’s done with everything,” Jack answers.
I suppose I’m not surprised the man cut the patch from his leathers and handed it over to Jack before hightailing it out of Brooklyn. Come to think of it, if you ask me, he took the high road. He cut the cancer from his life before he let it consume him.
When a man’s done, he’s done.
“Wolf is chomping at the bit to get back to us so for now you three take over around here and when he’s well enough Wolf will take Pipe’s place,” he continues pointing to me, Deuce and Stryker. His gaze lingers on Stryker.
“I hear Linc is fucked and Wolf mortgaged his house to get him the care he needs. When that shit runs out the club will step in.”
Yeah, that was fun.
After Wolf lost his shit on the doctor and cursed everyone in the hospital, he made me find a mortgage broker. I dragged the poor bastard to the hospital so he could set everything into place for Wolf to take a mortgage out on the house he owns free and clear. The crazy fuck has a plan. Once the funds are made available, he’s going to cut a check to the hospital, piss all over their floors and call Seven on Your Side, in hopes the local news will give him air time.
Crazy.
Fucking crazy.
All of them.
Wolf might be the king of crazy but Jack isn’t too far behind him if he thinks the club can afford all these debts.
“Prez, you’re talking about rebuilding the clubhouse and taking on Linc’s medical bills, but we ain’t got a pot to piss in right now,” I point out.
“He’s right,” Blackie intervenes. “Even if we get a buyer for the guns, we’re nowhere near where we need to be.”
“I’m probably going to regret even saying this but what about Spinelli?” Riggs questions.
My shoulders tense as I lift my eyes to Riggs.
I’ve been on high alert when it comes to that last name. Ever since Celeste gave me the run down on the wannabe gangster.
“The club isn’t looking to play nice with the mob anymore,” Blackie replies. “Besides, that motherfucker has five fucking families looking to gun him down and take what they thought was going to be theirs.”
“You know that for a fact?” Jack asks.
“I’d bet my life on it,” Blackie says.
More good news.
Not liking where this is going, I make a mental note to talk to Celeste. I don’t want her too close to her cousins until I know more about this guy. She won’t like it, but she’ll have to deal with it. Especially since my daughter shares the same last name as this fool.
“Well then, that’s how you get your money,” Riggs chimes in. “Call the guinea bastard here and tell him we’ll protect his Mafioso ass but it’ll cost him.”
The fact that this is an actual option is disturbing. The fact that Riggs would suggest our entire club protects Rocco from his enemies, knowing protection doesn’t come cheap, speaks volumes.
“Because we’re doing such a fine job of keeping the people around us breathing,” Blackie mutters.
“We’re still standing,” I insist. “That’s gotta count for something.”
We may have lost a few along the way but we’ve prevailed even though the odds were consistently stacked against us.
“Hold it,” Jack interrupts. “Before we shake down Rocco for a dime, there’s something you should know. He came over to me after the funeral and made a pretty bold accusation. According to him, the Bastards didn’t blow up the clubhouse.”
Plot twist.
It gets you every fucking time.
Usually you don’t catch it right away. In the movies you keep watching unsuspectingly. Everything plays out like you think it’s going to and then bam! You ask yourself how the fuck that happened, press the rewind button and freeze the frame on the guy who delivered the words that changed the game.
When you hit rewind, it will be Jack’s face you freeze and his words you’ll play over and over as you wonder why you didn’t see it now.
It’s obvious though.
We all ignore it because we know the answer already.
None of us want to believe that ride to Boston was for nothing.
None of us want to accept that we got it wrong.
That the threat is still alive.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Riggs says.
“No, now I think he’s reaching—”
“Who does he think did it?” Stryker interrupts.
“Some Russian named Vladimir Yankovich,” he says, peering at Stryker. “You know the name?”
The room goes still.
The world stops turning.
The piece of paper tucked in my vest for years burns a hole through me.
The paper containing a list of names all which are crossed out with blood.
All except for one.
“No,” Stryker mutters.
I take it back.
This is the moment you’ll look back on.
My face will be the one you freeze and the words I utter next are the words you’ll play over and over in your head.
“I do,” I say, lifting my eyes as I stare across the table at Jack.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I lay my palms flat on the smooth surface of the table and lock eyes with the man who just opened my wounds.
“And if there is a grain of truth to what Rocco is saying we might as well hang up our cuts because we’re no fucking match for him. And if he’s looking to inch in on Rocco’s territory, he might as well surrender now because anything he loves is as good as dead. Yankovich has no fucking mercy.”
No fucking mercy.
My sister.
My father.
My mother.
No fucking mercy at all.
“Those are some pretty harsh words, boy,” Jack grunts.
“Alexandria,” I mutter.
“Who’s that?” Blackie asks.
“She was my twin sister,” I reveal, bowing my head to stare at the ink on my hands.
Was.
As in once upon a time when the world wasn’t fucking ugly.
When innocence still existed.
Balling my hands into fists I look around the table at the men who truly know nothing about my past.
“Went missing after our fourteenth birthday. The cops never found her body and with no body my parents believed she was still out there somewhere. My father hired a retired bounty hunter to look into her disappearance and he was more successful than the cops that worked on her case for four years. Turns out there were over two dozen girls that fit Alex’s description, all of whom went missing that year.”
Pausing, I swipe a hand over my face.
So much for leaving this shit in the past and starting over.
I don’t know why I ever thought I’d escape this.
I have no idea why I thought I’d ever break free from the chains that bind me to a nightmare that took so much from me.
That’s a fucking lie.
I know why.
Because unlike Pipe, I never cut the cancer out of my life.
“It took five years to find a common thread amongst the kidnappings. That common thread is Yankovich. After we found out he may have had something to do with Alexandria’s disappearance my old man went after him. Two days later they found my parents’ bodies in the bottom of the river.”
“You think Yankovich took your sister?” Jack asks. “And what? Is there a possibility she’s alive?”
My sister’s kidnapping was the cancer.
This break from revenge, giving up on getting Yankovich—that was the remission.
But cancer comes back and usually when it does you’re fucked because it’s an aggressive fucker.
“I know Yankovich took my sister,” I seethe. “I’ve spent every day since I turned nineteen years old trying to find her. It’s why I went nomad with the club. That motherfucker don’t stay in one place. But he’s rarely in the states.”
“Answer the other part of the question, boy. Do you think your sister is alive?”
“No, I don’t. Yankovich doesn’t keep his girls long. The ones that survive his torture are sold to the highest bidder.”
Been fighting that truth for a long time, unwilling to think of my sister like that.
Not willing to accept her fate.
Stryker slams his fist against the table and turns his gaze to me, demanding my attention.
“I found Yankovich’s business card in the Corrupt Bastards' clubhouse,” he confesses, turning to Jack. “What if Rocco is right? What if Yankovich is the one who blew up the Dog Pound?”
“Why us?” Blackie says, turning to me. “Does he know who you are?”
“No, I’ve never gotten close.” The lie escapes me before I can even think about it. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that Yankovich knows who I am.
He’s been playing cat and mouse with me for years.
He all but delivered those men who killed my parents on a silver platter before he disappeared again.
Still, I don’t correct myself because some things are better left unsaid.
I could never get Yankovich on my own, but maybe with the strength of my club behind me I stand a chance.
“Yo, guys…” Riggs says, pulling the skull cap from his head. “Remember when Ronan came to the clubhouse trying to warn us about the Bastards? He mentioned girls. We thought he was fucking talking out of his ass, looking for a handout. What if the motherfucker was right? If Yankovich was working with Charlie Teardrops, then they were making a play for the harbor.”
“Rocco controls the harbor,” Jack mutters.
“Jack, if this is true I can’t sit back and ignore it,” I tell him. “If Yankovich is playing on innocent girls like my fucking sister, this may be my chance to avenge her death.”
“Simmer down, boy,” Jack orders. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves.”
Those are the last words I hear as Skylar’s face flashes before my eyes.
Innocence.
Once the wanderer, I am now a father.
A father whose only purpose is making the world his daughter lives in a safe haven.
I couldn’t protect my sister from the ugly.
But I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure my girl grows up in a better world.
A world where innocence is never lost.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Jack slams the mallet onto the table adjourning our meeting. Keeping my eyes glued on Jack, I remain seated as everyone rises and files out of the garage.
“Prez, I need a word,” I say gruffly, clearing my throat.
He glances over his shoulder at me. Curiously, he narrows his eyes and stares back at me silently before pulling out his chair and taking a seat again.
“What’s on your mind?”
Sighing, I twist the silver rings on my fingers.
“What I said before, about Yankovich not knowing me…I lied,” I confess, watching as he leans back against the folding chair. “He fed me the men he hired to kill my parents and then disappeared.”
“You’re going to have to give me more than that, kid,” he demands.
“Yankovich didn’t take my sister because my family meant anything to him. My father was a car salesman and my mother a banker. They were no threat to a man like Yankovich. He took Alex because she fit his type. He didn’t care that she came from a good home or that she had a bright future. All she was to him was a body. An unsuspecting girl he could use and abuse like all the others. Another face on the back of a milk carton that everyone would forget sooner or later.”
“He got away with taking all those girls, and after a couple of years the heat died down. That’s when Rick, the bounty hunter, was able to get a hit on him. A real location. I don’t know what my father tried to do to that man but Yankovich got wind of it and killed him and my mother. He left a trail of crumbs behind for Rick to uncover, knowing I’d kill them. His hands didn’t have to get dirty if I was the one eliminating his soldiers. I didn’t know at first, neither did Rick, but the more he kept digging the more he was able to connect the dots. The man doesn’t get his hands dirty that often. He sits back and plays people like pawns.”
“So let me see if I follow. You’re saying this bastard sends down an order and some fuck working for him does the crime. Then he eliminates his soldiers by some vigilante justice system he’s working.”
“Sounds about right.”
“This bounty hunter, you still keep in contact with him?”
“Yeah,” I say with a nod. “He had as much invested in nailing Yankovich to the cross as I did.”
“So what changed?” he asks as his eyebrows knit in confusion. “Why’d you give up?”
I’m about to recite the same answer I gave to anyone who asked, the words I’ve drummed into my head, but today the answer has changed.
“I didn’t give up, Jack. I fight that bastard every day I wake. I might not be chasing him anymore but that don’t mean shit. Rick and I couldn’t catch him on our own but maybe with the strength of the club and the help of Spinelli there’s a shot.”
At the mention of Rocco, he swipes a hand over his face and curls his lip in disgust.
“Talk to your bounty hunter, tell him I’d like to meet with him.”
“Will do,” I say, pausing for a beat. “There’s more.”
“Jesus, fuck,” he growls.
“I had a girlfriend,” I start.
“You want a medal?”
Ignoring him, I roll my eyes and continue to speak.
“She was my sister’s best friend…Celeste is her name.”
Her face flashes before my eyes as I glance down at my hands.
Then a moment later it’s Skylar’s pretty little face I see. Lifting my head, Jack raises an eyebrow and taps his fingers against the table.
“You going somewhere with this?”
“Her last name is Spinelli.”
“You fucking guys all love that mobbed up pussy,” he hisses, shaking his head in disbelief.
Raking his fingers through his hair he blows out a ragged breath and pops a piece of Nicorette gum into his mouth.
“Fucking going to make me take up smoking again with this shit,” he adds.
“She’s not mobbed up. Rocco’s her cousin. They don’t have much to do with one another. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t know about my sister or that his cousin was affected by Yankovich when she went missing.”
“Well let’s keep it that way until after we meet with Rocco and he gives us everything he’s got on this Russian prick.”
He pauses and bites the inside of his cheek as he stares at me long and hard.
“Went by the hospital the other day. Wolf was swooning over some blonde nurse, said her name was Celeste. She yours?”
Mine.
Always mine.
I nod.
“Yeah, she’s mine. We’ve been in and out of one another’s lives for years. Timing’s never been our thing and we’ve lost our way a couple of times but now we’re back. It ain’t just me and her anymore. I have a daughter. Her name is Skylar and I’ve missed a year and a half of her life. I ain’t looking to miss another second. I don’t know what Yankovich knows about me, if I’m even on his radar anymore, but I need your help. I’ll give you and this club everything I am, all I got, but I need your word you’ll help me keep them safe. Yankovich has stolen too much from me. From them. Tell me you’ll help me Jack.”
“What’s that patch on your back say?”
“Brooklyn,” I rasp.
“Then what you’re asking of me comes without question. It comes with that patch. You and yours are property of Parrish, kid. If you need to hear the words…here they are. The Satan’s Knights will keep your girls safe.”
Breathing out a sigh, I nod and lean back against the chair.
“Thank you.”
“No thanks required, brother,” he assures, pushing back his chair. “You tell the boys about your daughter?”
“Just Deuce.”
Wanderer (The Nomad Series Book 2) Page 20
