Wanderer (The Nomad Series Book 2)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Follow your gut.

  That motherfucking thing won’t steer you wrong.

  We leave our bikes in the woods, strap our weapons to our bodies and creep through the fallen twigs and wet leaves that cover the earth. I slap Blackie on the back and tell him to remember this location, to photograph it to his fucking memory because it’s a prime spot for graves. Knowing I’m fucking deranged and that he’s stuck with me, he doesn’t blink an eye.

  Bas’ men sneak up on the prospects guarding the house and before they can beg for their lives, the silencer goes off ending their miserable existences.

  Two down.

  See you in Hell, motherfucker.

  Creeping up to the house, we split up and break into groups of two.

  Me and Blackie.

  Bas and Needles.

  Riggs and Stryker.

  The rest surround the perimeter of the house, ready to pounce once we make our way inside. Once we’re in our respective positions, I break down the front door as Bas and Needles burst through the windows. Riggs and Stryker blow the hinges off the back door.

  A woman screams.

  A baby cries.

  The blood in my veins goes to ice and I morph from Jack Parrish to the Bulldog.

  Lithium won’t save me and it won’t save Rush either.

  Blackie motions to me, signaling he’s going to search the house for Deuce. I nod in agreement and listen for the crow.

  He calls as he always does and I follow his whisper.

  The woman shrieks again.

  The baby’s cries grow louder.

  The door in front of me storms open and I freeze in my tracks. Lifting my gun, I aim it straight for the redhead running toward me.

  “Where’s the baby?” I shout at her. Her eyes widen as she stares down the barrel of the gun and I use her condition to my advantage and throw her into a headlock. Digging my gun into her temple, I lean against her ear and whisper.

  “Tell me where the baby is or I’ll splatter your fucking brains across these walls.”

  “Let her go, or the baby dies!”

  Turning my head a fraction, I spot Rush. He’s holding a gun to Skylar’s head, mimicking my stance with the junkie.

  “It’s over Rush. Put the fucking gun down before I blow your whore’s head off her body,” I demand.

  “No!” He tears the gun away from Skylar and points it at me. “Let her go, Parrish, or I’ll fucking kill you and the kid.”

  “Don’t cry, baby,” the junkie calls to the child. “We’re just playing a game.”

  “Game’s over bitch,” I growl as I spot Blackie creeping up behind Rush. His eyes dart to Skylar and I know I have to act fast. Out of the corner of my eye I see Riggs side step toward Rush. I order him with my eyes to take the kid when I make my move and then I send a prayer up to God.

  Not for me but for the kid.

  I point my gun at the ceiling and fire two shots before throwing the bitch across the floor. It’s fast and Rush doesn’t know where to look, his coordination is off because of the drugs and that benefits me. He releases Skylar, but before she can fall to the floor, Riggs scoops her up and cradles her against his chest, blocking her vision from the mayhem. Rush drops to his knees thinking the whore’s been hit and Blackie pulls the trigger, sending a bullet through the back of his head.

  Ignoring the redhead as she screams, she sits against the wall and stares into Rush’s lifeless eyes as I walk toward Riggs.

  “Stryker?” the whore asks.

  “Ally,” he mutters, shaking his head as he looks her over. “I’m sorry.”

  What the fuck is he’s sorry for? I don’t know and I don’t care. Boy’s got problems. He thinks he can save everyone and probably feels guilty he couldn’t save this bitch too.

  Brushing it off, I take Skylar from Riggs and inspect her.

  Beautiful.

  Safe.

  Alive.

  “You’re okay, girl, you’re going home to your mommy now,” I whisper before lifting my head and glancing over at my men. “Where’s Deuce?”

  “I got him,” Bas calls from another room.

  “What did you do?” the redhead cries. “You killed him!” She turns to Stryker. “They killed Rush, you let them kill him.”

  “Can someone please shut this bitch up?” Riggs asks.

  I step toward her, lift my boot off the ground and slam it against Rush’s throat.

  “Yeah, I did and you’re next bitch,” I sneer, looking over my shoulder. “Put this whore out of her misery,” I tell Blackie before glancing at Stryker. He doesn’t say a word as he crosses his arms and stares back at her.

  I follow his eyes and smile down at her.

  “You’re welcome,” I say as Blackie lifts his gun and points it between her eyes.

  I bring Skylar closer and lift my boot off of Rush’s throat. Not wanting to fuel any more of the nightmares I’m sure the child will have, I start for the door.

  The bitch whimpers.

  I hear the distinct sound of Blackie’s safety being pulled back.

  Then Deuce shouts.

  “Don’t shoot her!”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Riggs asks him.

  “Why the fuck shouldn’t I?” Blackie growls.

  “Because you’d be killing Cobra’s sister.”

  Spinning around on my heel, I glare at Deuce. This motherfucking cowboy better not be fucking with me. If I find out this is a ploy he’s using so he can get his dick wet with this junkie, I’ll shoot him too.

  “Say what?” I demand as I stare at the redhead, strung out on the floor crying over the lifeless body of the man that used and abused her.

  She lifts her head and stares back at Blackie.

  “Do it,” she shouts. “Pull the fucking trigger!”

  “What do you mean she’s Cobra’s sister?” Stryker demands, his eyes darting between Deuce and the bitch he knows as Ally.

  “Take a look at this, Jack,” Bas says.

  “Every wall in that room your boy was in has clippings pasted to it,” Needles offers as I walk over to Bas.

  He lifts a newspaper clipping featuring a sketch of the woman begging us to kill her. One side is the last actual picture of the girl who went missing at fourteen years old. Beside it is what an artist believed she would look like in her twenties.

  The caption names her as Alexandria Richardson.

  Daughter of Keith and Cora Richardson.

  Sister of twin brother, Jagger Richardson.

  Last seen at the age of fourteen.

  Gone without a trace.

  Robotically I hand Skylar to Bas and walk back to the girl sobbing on the floor. I crouch down beside her and lay my hand on her shoulder. She lifts her head and I lean back on my haunches.

  Blue eyes.

  Identical to her brothers.

  So similar to her niece’s.

  “You’re safe now,” I tell her.

  A minute ago she was about to die on my order.

  But life has a funny way of fucking you when you least expect it.

  Now the junkie crying over a worthless cocksucker begging me to end her life is part of this thing we have here.

  She’s property of Parrish.

  Chapter Forty-three

  I was never one to watch the news. I didn't need to be reminded how miserable the world we lived in truly was, and they very rarely broadcast the good stuff. Why would they? Beautiful doesn’t draw in the same ratings as ugly does. Society likes to bitch about how our generation is full of hate, but everyone fails to see how addicted we’ve become to the grit.

  It’s that very reason the detectives want me to make a statement to the news. They’ve contacted the local media outlets and have told them about Skylar’s disappearance. They even threw in that we are a family victimized twice by the same crime, paralleling Skylar’s story to Alexandria’s. Keeping their ratings in mind, several local stations have been chomping at the bit to hear a mother plea for the safe return of he
r child. It helps that Skylar’s father is part of the Satan’s Knights MC, and the reputation that follows them draws even more attention to our story.

  History has proven crime sells and society loves outlaws. Why do you think John Gotti or Victor Pastore graced so many headlines throughout the years? They sold more newspapers than any local hero ever did.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Gina asks from beside me, watching as I pin my hair up in a messy bun.

  Through the mirror, my eyes meet hers and I pause. Thinking about my answer, I weigh the choices in my mind as my visit with Jack Parrish yesterday plays in my head. Shaking my head, I turn to face her.

  “No, I’m not,” I admit. In my heart it feels wrong. I wonder if going on television will hurt my daughter more than it will save her. More than anything, I want someone to decide for me. I want someone to tell me what to do.

  If I hadn’t thrown Cobra out, I wouldn’t be alone in making my choice. It’s strange to think of all the trivial decisions I’ve made on Skylar’s behalf that I worried about at the time. All the decisions I wished for Cobra to be a part of. Now I’m alone facing one of the biggest decisions I’ll ever make as a mother, and I didn't have to be.

  “I wish he was here,” I whisper.

  “I know you do, but you need to realize he needs to be where he is, doing whatever it is he's doing too. Look, I won't pretend to have some sort of understanding when it comes to the club, especially since this is as new to me as it is to you, but I've seen firsthand what those men will do to protect their own.”

  “I'm not even sure Cobra is with them. He didn't come here yesterday with Jack.”

  “You threw him out and told him you didn't want to see him unless he had Skylar,” she reminds me. “Did you really expect him to walk in here with Jack?”

  I know my words were harsh, just like I know he’s hurting as much as I am. He hasn’t lashed out at me, no matter how much he felt the need to blame someone for what happened, and he probably needed it more than I did. He’s probably feeling all this more than me, but I didn’t take the time to think about his feelings.

  She places her hands on my shoulders and bends her knees to be eye level with me.

  “Skylar will come home, Celeste, and mark my words it will be Jack and Cobra who bring her back. I believe in them,” she whispers. “I believe in the way they didn’t let me down, the way they brought a sliver of justice to me, they will do the same for you.”

  The doorbell sounds and we both turn around as my father goes to answer it. With his hand on the door knob he turns back to me.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he questions. “Once we open this door and let these vultures in there won’t be any turning back,” he warns.

  Uncertainty claws at me as I wipe my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans. A fist pounds on the door and this time it’s followed by a deep baritone voice.

  Chills coat my arms.

  “Celeste, open the door, it’s Jack,” he calls from the other end.

  My father forgets about the reporters due to arrive and pulls open the door. I hear his gasp before I see the mass of blonde curls peek over his shoulder. Jack steps to the side of my father and my whole world goes still.

  “Mama!”

  “Oh my God,” I cry.

  Jack grins, pressing a kiss on top of Skylar’s head.

  “Go to your mama, sweetheart,” he whispers as he sets Skylar down on her feet.

  My body shudders as a sob escapes and I drop to my knees. Spreading my arms wide, I force a smile as she runs right into my embrace. I pictured this moment every second she was missing. I wondered how I’d feel or how I’d react, but I could never imagine the magnitude of love and relief I feel looking into her blue eyes. Holding her in my arms is like holding her for the first time. I fall in love with her all over again.

  The love a mother has for her child isn’t something she’s taught; it’s the foundation of her existence. It’s amazing what having a child will do to a person. It makes the life you lived before seem so insignificant. Since the moment she was born, I forgot what life was like without my daughter. These last few days I had a taste of life without Skylar and they were the worst days of my life.

  “Mama! Mama!”

  “Oh my, sweet girl, Mommy missed you so much,” I tell her as I squeeze her tightly.

  If I’m dreaming, please God never wake me up. I bury my nose in her hair, breathe her in and shower her with millions of kisses.

  “Thank you, Jack,” my father cries. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “No thanks required. We’re happy she’s where she belongs,” he says, turning back to me. He crosses his arms against his chest and takes in our reunion. Stryker steps into the apartment along with Blackie and they stare at me and my baby for a moment.

  They’re the men society makes you believe are the enemy. These men are the guys you frown upon and stick your noses up to. Shame on you and shame on me too because I’m just as guilty. However, I will never look at these men the same. I will never look at Jack Parrish and not think he is the greatest man I’ve ever known.

  “Is Deuce okay?” Gina asks Stryker as he wraps his arms around her.

  “He’s okay, roughed up a bit, but he’s okay,” he tells her.

  Lifting Skylar’s shirt, I continue to check her out. To my eyes she appears to be fine, but I’m going to take her to the hospital and make sure.

  “Where’s Cobra?” I ask them. “I want to take her to the hospital.”

  “Cobra wasn’t with us,” Blackie says, knitting his eyebrows in confusion as he studies me.

  Pressing a kiss to the top of Skylar’s head, I pull her onto my lap and wrap my arms around her before lifting her pants up.

  “What do you mean he wasn’t with you?” My father questions. “We’ve been trying to get in touch with him and his phone is off. We thought he was with you.”

  “Shit,” Blackie hisses, turning to Stryker. “The shipments are both moving today.”

  I peel my eyes off of my baby and fearfully glance between Stryker and Blackie, watching as the dread spills from their eyes.

  “You won’t find anything wrong with her,” Jack says, ignoring the conversation going on around him, unfazed by everything. “There was someone taking care of her the whole time.”

  Forcing my gaze back to him, I stand with Skylar in my arms but she squirms and I begrudgingly place her back down and wipe away the tears that are still sliding down my face.

  “What do you mean someone took care of her? Who?”

  Uncrossing his arms, Jack turns around and steps into the hallway. Curiously, I take a step forward but come to a complete standstill when Jack and Riggs usher in a disheveled looking woman.

  “Her,” Jack says, gauging my reaction.

  The woman struggles out of Riggs’ grip but fails. I take her in, starting with her poorly processed red hair that is matted and dry. Dressed in clothes that barely fit her, she is all skin and bones. Scratching her bare arms violently she lifts her head and stares at Stryker. A frown works the thin line of her lips and I find myself subconsciously taking another step closer to get a better look at her.

  After all, this stranger kept my baby safe.

  “Hello?”

  She turns her head and her blue eyes peer back at me.

  Through the dirt and grime covering her face, it’s those eyes that speak to me.

  They call to me.

  So familiar.

  Skylar walks over to her and the woman tears her eyes from me to look at my daughter. Her features soften as Skylar offers her a baby doll.

  “Ally, baby,” Skylar says.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper.

  Ally takes the doll from Skylar’s hand and looks back at me. I see beyond the knots in her hair, beyond the pock marks on her face and the bruises that cover her exposed skin. I look into the eyes of a person lost.

  A person I lost.

  “It can’t be,”
I cry. “Is it you?”

  She just stares at me.

  “Alexandria?”

  Nothing.

  Forcing herself not to blink, her eyes fill with tears that never fall as she grinds her teeth and nervously drops the toy.

  Another step closer.

  And then another.

  Standing in front of her, I reach out and lift her chin.

  “We might not be sisters by blood…” I murmur, waiting…praying.

  Nothing.

  A moment passes.

  Another after that.

  She blinks and the tears fall.

  “But we’re sisters of the heart,” she rasps.

  Chapter Forty-four

  Present Day

  A pill, a line of coke or a shiny needle full of heroin—something. I’ll take anything. It’s what I use to escape reality. It’s the poison that makes me forget who I am and reminds me of who I used to be. When you’re kidnapped at fourteen years old and you’ve been sexually abused, sold, and imprisoned by the only man you’ve ever loved, you sometimes need to forget. You need to be reminded of what you had even if you lost it, even if it was only yours for a short time.

  For the first few years I would pray someone would rescue me, that I would reunite with the people I loved and missed. I’d pray they wouldn’t forget me, that they wouldn’t lose hope, and one day they’d find me or I’d find them.

  I begged God for this exact moment.

  And now I wish I hadn’t.

  Now, standing here with Celeste’s arms around me, I don’t want to be Alexandria. I want to forget my past and be Ally.

  I push her off of me and take a step back, instantly seeing the hurt in her eyes. Looking away from her, I stare at the little girl I played with for days, the little girl who looked so much like the baby I would have wanted. A baby I would have wished for if my life wasn’t uprooted by evil. Studying her angelic face now, it becomes clear she doesn’t belong to me. She never could. Rush told me I could keep her. He promised he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her as long I went with him. We were going to be a family.

  Him, me and her.

  Then these animals killed him right in front of me.