Sting shook his head, turning away from Xander to stare out the window, keeping an eye out for some form of signal from Stiletto. Five minutes was going to be an eternity at this rate. Maybe they ought to just go in and help.
How had things got this far? He’d finally got it right with Durty, they had the funeral tomorrow, which they needed to prepare for. Instead, here he was, on a fubar’d night, babysitting a rat. He should be the one inside saving the day. Sting understood though. This was Stiletto’s twin and it was said that twins had some weird connection others could never comprehend.
Lifting his arm, he lit up his watch, almost groaning out loud. It’d only been three minutes.
“Dude, is it time yet?” Xander asked, reminiscent of a child asking, ‘Are we there yet?’
Sting muttered something unintelligible, picking up his cell and by passing the twenty fucking text messages from Durty. Finding Lace’s number, he pressed the little green phone icon.
“Do you have her?” Lace’s frantic voice came across the line.
“No, not yet. We need a few more minutes. How’s it going?” Sting could hear the spectators over the panic in her voice.
“He’s getting his fucking ass kicked. How do you think it is going?”
Sting should’ve expected that kind of answer. It was a stupid thing to ask. With all the craziness, he couldn’t really think properly. “She’s inside. We need five more minutes.”
Lace’s voice resonated fear and urgency. “He won’t last that long.”
The beeping tone of the line disconnecting echoed in his ear. Forcing out a deep breath, Sting peeked at his watch again.
Four minutes.
It was time. They weren’t going to wait any longer.
“Let’s go.” Sting pushed open the cab door and lurched out, quietly shutting it behind him. Glimpsing over his shoulder, Xander followed right behind him. “You’re going to have to distract the guy at the door.” Sting came to a stop at the wall Stiletto shimmied up previously. He studied the male as he paced the small walkway in front of the building.
“Distract him how?”
“Jesus Christ. I know you can’t be this fucking stupid. Where the hell did your brains go?” Sting stared at Xander like he’d grown two heads. He knew the kid was smart, but apparently the thought of Stiletto’s knife gutting him scrambled his brains. “They know you, dip shit. You’re their brother. If you show up, they won’t question it.”
“Right,” Xander nodded, wiping the sweat from his face.
Rolling his eyes, Sting gave Xander a small shove toward the building, but grabbed his belt loop as he saw the door swing open.
The Warrior spun around to face the door as it opened. He fell back to the sidewalk in a pile, a dark pool of liquid formed underneath him. There had been no sound when he fell.
Sting sat there confused for a moment, his brain trying to process what just happened. Standing up, letting go of Xander’s belt loop, a fleeting glance toward him, showed Xander was in just as much of shock as he was.
A bloodied figure emerged from the doorway as Sting unholstered his gun and cautiously crept forward. It dawned on him the figure was Stiletto when she motioned them forward. “Go get the truck.” He tossed Xander the keys and rushed to her side.
Stepping over the Warrior blocking the steps into the building, he looked up in horror. Was he in the book Carrie? As of right now, he felt like he was in the prom scene. She was drenched in blood, from head to toe. The only thing he managed to say was, “What the fuck?”
“What?” It was as if she was in a crazed blood thirst, her smile near insane. “It’s just blood.”
Chapter 35
Blurry
Lace was beyond panicked. Standing there, watching Steel take a beating, only dodging and purposely missing with his swings, was almost more than she could take.
Durty stood next to her, their hands joined together by a grip so tight, it’d make the Hulk jealous.
Lace knew her sister was just as worried, she also had her ol’man out there somewhere, not answering her frantic texts. That had to be the icing on the cake.
“Jesus!” Durty exclaimed, yanking Lace out of her temporary brain fart.
Steel’s back was pressed up against the diamond shaped links of the metal fence, sharp, rusted barbs dug into his flesh while Cobra held him there by his throat.
Unable to tear her eyes away from the blood seeping down his back, Lace wasn’t so sure Steel had much more left in him. He’d gone into the ring standing with that confidence that made him who he was. With every blow and kick he absorbed, he deflated inch by agonizing inch. There wasn’t a spot on him that didn’t have blood and dirt on it.
Lace knew the fight was lasting as long as it was because Cobra was playing it up. After he’d strike Steel, he’d play to the crowd, instead of pushing it through to the end. The fight in itself was completely one sided. Yes, that was in their favor, but it was taking its toll on Steel.
At one point, Steel had thrown Cobra to the ground and had him in a choke hold. Lace watched him look over to Vader, who lifted up his phone, wagging it back and forth. Steel’s look of defeat when he allowed Cobra to roll over him was enough to break her heart all over again.
How many times could one swear to kill someone? Lace wondered. She swore to everything holy, Vader would die knowing it was at her hand.
The vibration in her left hand had her lifting it quickly, her heart skipping a beat. “Do you have her?” There was no way of hiding the hopeful, yet desperate plea from her voice.
“No, not yet. We need a few more minutes. How’s it going?” Sting’s voice filtered through the line.
Durty perked up, all of her attention focused on Lace and her phone. “Is he okay?”
Lace lifted her hand, palm facing toward Durty’s face, silently telling her to be quiet. Looking back to the ring, Steel was struggling in a grapple with Cobra, which wasn’t easily happening due to their slick sweaty appendages. Not to mention blood.
“He’s getting his fucking ass kicked. How do you think it is going?” Ask a stupid question, get a smart-ass answer. Seemed simple enough.
“She’s inside. We need five more minutes.”
Lace’s voice resonated fear and urgency. “He won’t last that long.”
Ending the call, Lace squeezed her eyes shut, her grip tight around the phone. Taking in a breath between gritted teeth, the realization dawned on her that she must make a very difficult decision.
“Is he okay?” Durty reiterated her question.
Was he okay? Lace came close to tearing Durty’s head off, choosing to bare her teeth instead. “He’s fine.”
Durty didn’t deserve to be the brunt of Lace’s bad mood. She was just as affected by this squirmish as Lace was, if not more. The itch to lash out at someone was natural, and God help anyone that came around her if Steel lost this fight. They’d need to lock her up and throw away the key.
“What did he say?”
Lace grimaced, forcing herself to watch Cobra deal rapid jabs to Steel’s kidneys, right before he hooked his leg and sent him careening to the ground. “To give them five more minutes.”
“He won’t last that long!”
Laced forced a watery smile into place. Images of what-could-be kept triggering in her not so quiet brain.
“Lace,” Durty’s warning was loud and clear, ringing through her ears as Lace watched Steel’s head snap to the left by Cobra’s right hook, then to the other side when he followed it up with a left hook.
“Don’t,” Lace advised Durty with a stern infliction. She was toying with a decision that could easily backfire on her and the club, including the Rojas, but her faith in Stiletto went further.
The verdict was rendered when Cobra struck, much like his name indicated, while Steel was down on all fours. Lace watched, dumbstruck, as Cobra drew his leg back, swinging to forward into Steel’s rib cage. Steel lifted a half
an inch off his knees, collapsing back to the ground, his arms wrapping about his torso.
Cobra didn’t stop there.
A scream emanated from Lace when Cobra’s steel toed boot made contact with Steel’s chin, sending the now limp male backward onto the straw and dirt packed flooring.
Her phone dropped to the floor when she surged forward, her fingers intertwining in the mesh of the cage. She was shaking, and she knew it. Lace could hear the girls behind her, nothing registering on what they were saying. Hell, she wasn’t even bothering to hide her tears.
Cobra retreated once again to prance around the ring, showboating for the crowd.
Lace couldn’t imagine anyone coming back this far into a fight, much less stand up. Moving as quickly as she could toward the area Steel was laying, her final decision was made concrete when she saw the blood splattering on the ground before him after he half wheezed out a cough.
Sinking to her knees, she grasped the cage once more, praying her voice carried over the roaring of the crowd. “They’ve got her.”
Steel’s eyes were out of focus and glazed when he barely moved his head to look at her.
“Get up,” Lace urged in a beseeching tone. “They’ve got her.”
She felt eyes on her, making her glance over her right shoulder at Durty, who was staring at her like she’d lost her fucking mind.
“Lace, don’t,” Durty begged her, shaking her head in denial.
Ignoring Durty, her attention turned back to Steel. Raising her voice to a near scream, she said it again, her voice raspy from the tears and the smoke in the room. “Get up, you son of a bitch!’
Steel’s head lifted, his face turning toward the sound of her voice.
“Did you hear what I said? We have her! Get up!” Still no response from him. Racking her brain, she had to figure out a way to motivate him. Screw it. “Stop playing with him and fucking finish it!”
Lace knew her words hit home when he glared at her with burning, reproachful eyes. “Don’t you fucking quit! I didn’t hear a bell!”
There was no way to hide the hope that flooded her, Steel struggling to push himself back onto his knees. “Please, Henny! Get. Up.”
Determination was written all over his face when he tilted his head up to look at her. Lace felt someone grab her hand, and several gasped around her with shouts of encouragement. Not breaking the eye contact, she lifted her free hand and formed the ASL sign for ‘I love you’, giving him a nod.
That must’ve been the key by the look he gave her.
“Yes,” she screamed, feeling her throat strain from the force of her excitement. “That’s it!”
Cobra must’ve decided it was time to finish the fight. He was slowly walking around the ring, not paying attention to the movement behind him. He threw his arms wide to the cheers of the crowd. One arm moved toward his throat, his thumb extended inward, pointing to his neck. In a flamboyant motion, he swept the appendage across his throat in a slicing motion from one side to the other.
“Oh my God, Lace! Do something!” Durty grabbed Lace’s shoulder in horror to what they were witnessing.
“Hurry! He’s coming!” Lace yelled, unable to stop herself from grabbing the fence once more, giving it a shake. She felt as helpless as the man in the ring on his knees before her.
Steel maneuvered his body to face Cobra, though he remained on his knees, palms on the dirt flooring.
“Why isn’t he getting up,” Durty screeched.
All of her attention was on Steel as he lowered his body inches, waiting for the right moment. Cobra wasn’t paying any mind to Steel, instead playing with the crowd. Turning his attentions to Lace, Cobra’s hand lowered to Steel’s bald head. The smile he gave her chilled Lace to the bones. She was going to do everything in her power to see that both Cobra and Vader wouldn’t live for what they’d done tonight.
As Cobra grabbed Steel, their eyes met. A look of shock replaced the laughter and smile Cobra was sporting, when a massive roar erupted from deep within the previously docile Steel, who wrapped one arm around his thighs, followed rapidly by the other. His hands locked tight, crushing Cobra up against him.
Still screaming with barbaric rage, Steel hefted Cobra up into the air, propelling him backward, toward the opposite side of the octagon ring. Cobra tried to break free, slamming his fists into Steel’s shoulders, even though it was well known, Steel rarely, if ever, felt pain; though, the amount of pain he was probably in right now, Lace was sure the hits felt like ant bites.
The aggression from Cobra seemed to fuel the fire by the way Steel gained momentum, running toward the fencing of the ring. Lace could’ve sworn she was back in high school, watching Steel tackle the opposing team. As exciting as it was, fear still took hold of her as he thrust himself, using Cobra as a cushion, into the barbed mesh and thick metal poles of the cage. The force of impact was so great, the cage shifted several inches back with a high-pitched groan, reverberating through the building as it pushed the hay bales to the side.
The warehouse was in total silence as both bodies lay motionless in the steel ring.
Lace gasped, sheer black fright sweeping through her as she waited for some sign Steel was alright, that he made it through this.
Nothing.
Questioning murmurs wafted through the mass of spectators, all wanting to know the final outcome of the fight. Lace was sure everyone in the warehouse wondered the same thing—were both of them dead?
A stirring of the bodies caught her breath. It was difficult to tell which one moved, Cobra or Steel?
Breath exhaled when Steel lifted up his hand, fingers curling around a section of the fencing, pulling himself free of Cobra. Lace was barely able to control her cry of surprise. She gulped hard, hot tears slipping down her cheek as Steel struggled to get to his feet.
The mixed sound from the warehouse audience was anything but typical, aside from a few cheers and boos, almost everyone stayed silent, dumbfounded by what they’d just witnessed.
She couldn’t stop the large grin building on her lips. That smile was for Steel and Steel alone as he started stumbling toward her, his arm gripping his ribs with a painful grimace. Eyes darted past Steel to look at Cobra, who still lay in the dirt. His neck was at an unnatural angle, a puddle of blood forming under him.
Gaze flicked back to Steel, the patting of hands on her back and shoulders, in celebration of their victory, was ignored. Something wasn’t right. “Get this fucking cage up!”
Steel’s hand reached out to her, his fingers noticeably shaking. His steps were slowing, seeming like each step he took was more difficult than the next. Small red bubbles foamed up at the corners of his mouth with the struggle of each breath.
Slamming her palms repeatedly against the fencing, she started screaming at the top of her lungs, terror taking over any conscious thought. “Lift this fucking cage now!”
Blood soaked his hand that covered the area of ribs where Cobra kicked him. She could make out bone disfigurement, from one rib to the next.
Looking wildly at the people around her, she spotted Ripcurl by the cage controls and slowly enunciated each word, clear as day, at the top of her voice. “Raise. The. Fucking. Cage. Now.”
With the clicking of the chain and the motor kicking into gear, metal against metal echoed through the barn, Lace turned back to Steel. In slow motion, his body crumpled to the floor, hitting his knees first, then fell forward with a thud, face down in the dirt.
“No,” the cry of alarm stopped everyone in their tracks. Lace was on her knees and rolling under the cage, a piece of her shirt tearing on one of the hanging barbs. Taking no notice of it, she half scrambled, and half ran to Steel’s lifeless body, dropping down next to him. “No, no no no no! Don’t you do this to me, H!”
Chapter 36
He Stopped Loving Her Today
They should’ve planned for the funeral to be in the early morning light. The Mojave weather didn’t care
who was going to suffer in the noon day sun for those wearing the appropriate mourning color. For a day of sadness, the weather decided it was time to throw one of the hottest California days in history.
Durty and Lace were the lucky ones. They were nestled inside the limo the funeral home provided for the precession. The AC was welcomed, though she felt horrible for the escorts on the bikes in front and behind the limo and Hearst.
Staring out the front windshield of the limo, flanked by the thundering of bike engines, was difficult. Durty would’ve rather been on her bike with them, or Sting sitting inside with Lace and her. She knew his place was beside Butcher, who was now acting president of the Rojas.
Shifting in her seat, Durty turned her attention to her sister sitting next to her. She knew Lace would need comfort right now, but by the scowl on her friend’s face, she knew Lace wasn’t in any mood to talk things out.
Durty opened her mouth to ask a question, but thought better of it, not wanting to be on the receiving end of Lace’s fury. Several times, she opened her mouth to say something, but stopped short.
As casually as she could manage, she said, “I wasn’t expecting this big of a turn out.”
A groan from the other side of the car was the only indication Lace heard her, since she was staring out the tinted window.
Sitting quietly for a moment, a slight turn of her head and looking out of the corner of her eye, Lace hadn’t moved. With a surrendering sigh, Durty returned to looking out the window herself, figuring out this was going to be a quiet trip to the cemetery. She gathered that in Lace’s mind, she was walking through scenarios on how to kill Vader and anyone else wearing a Warrior’s cut.
After what seemed like an eternity, Lace, still staring vacantly out the window, said, “As soon as the will reading is taken care of, two things. I’m going to have to call Rev, and secondly, I’m calling a three-club church meeting at the Rojas clubhouse.”
“Do you want me to message Flames and let her know to send out the word?”
Policy of Truth (Sacred Heart Continuum Series Book 1) Page 24
