by Drew Elyse
I set the bucket over beside Jackson so the opening was down. Grabbing a long blade from the table, I stepped onto the bucket to get high enough.
“You touched my woman,” I told him, lifting his limp hands above the cuffs. I pressed them together so the backs were touching, then, with a powerful thrust, buried the knife through both hands.
Stepping down, I kicked the bucket away. I grabbed a handful of rock salt from a container on the side of the room and flung it against Jackson’s body, aiming for the largest wounds.
While that burned for a while, I perused the selection of sharp tools on the table.
“Doc,” I called, louder than necessary.
“What you need, brother?”
Still talking, making sure Jackson could hear even over his panting and moaning, I asked, “What’s going to be my best option here for castration?”
Jackson, who hadn’t moved much in a while, his battered body unable to muster the strength, started to flail and fight his cuffs. The movement made the bleeding worse and tore at his hands. I grinned.
Before Doc could give me any sort of answer, before I could pick a tool to work with, the door banged open. “We need to move,” Stone ordered.
I swung around, not fucking pleased about being stopped. “What the fuck for?” I demanded.
“Ash called,” he said, and that alone had me moving. I threw the bloody knife to the ground. “Ace took her to the cemetery, then told her to get down and went off, gun drawn. Message cuts out at the end.”
There was something he was holding back. “Say it,” I demanded.
He stared straight at me. “Heard Barton before the message cut off.”
Without a word, I grabbed my SIG from the back of my jeans and fired three rounds into that fucker Jackson. One between his legs, one in the gut, and one to the throat. He’d bleed out. No surviving that. Then, I took off.
Inside the clubhouse, I armed up, the guys all doing the same. We were all on our bikes moments later, riding toward the cemetery at full speed.
In my head, a constant mantra went on and on: Just hold on, Firefly. We’re coming.
When we made it to the cemetery, I was ready to ride right on the path to Indian’s plot. Stone, however, raised a fist to stop us at the lot. Everyone pulled to a stop, including the van someone had taken. Jager jumped out of the passenger seat of the cage and announced, “Been tracking both their phones on the way over. Ash’s is down. Last location looks to be right by Indian’s grave. Ace’s is several yards east of there.”
Roadrunner spoke next. “There’s some woods at the edge of the property in that direction.”
Stone instructed, “We go on foot. There’s risk already that they heard us pull in.” I went to speak, not wanting to take that fucking long to get to Ash, but he cut me off. “No, man. Know you’re freakin’, but we don’t need to give Barton warning we’re coming. No telling what he might do.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Let’s fucking move,” I demanded.
Every step, even at a dead fucking run, felt like it took too damn long. Ash was there somewhere. I refused to accept anything else. She was there, and she was alright. We were going to get to her and we were going to fucking kill Barton once and for all.
She was going to be alright.
She had to be alright.
“Please, please, just hang on,” I begged. Ace didn’t answer. He didn’t look at me. He just lay there, bleeding.
Barton didn’t approach, didn’t say anything or demand I get up. He hadn’t reacted when I ran over. I looked up to find him inspecting his man, who was not, as it had appeared at a distance, leaning against the tree. He was dead. His body pinned like a scarecrow. Ace had stuck two knives into the tree trunk and then positioned the man so the hilts of each knife supported his armpits. I didn’t know how the head stayed up. I didn’t want to look that high to find out.
Ace had set a trap for Barton. He’d lured him here to save me and got shot doing it.
“What the fuck?” Barton muttered to himself. “That sick motherfucker mutilated him.”
I didn’t answer, didn’t draw attention to myself. I focused on applying pressure to the gunshot wound in Ace’s gut.
“Dammit, Jones,” Barton went on, “where the fuck are the keys?”
Keys? It took me a moment to understand. Jones was meant to drive whatever car Barton was using to get me out of there. Ace had the time to position the body. He’d probably found the keys, hid them. Barton didn’t seem to realize it. He wasn’t searching Ace.
Then, true clarity swept over me.
He wasn’t searching Ace.
I glanced over. His gun was at his side while he patted down his dead crony.
Barton didn’t realize Ace had been reaching for his gun.
I hesitated. I didn’t want to move, to stop pressing on Ace’s wounds. What if he bled out? But then, what was going to happen when Barton realized Ace had the keys? His distraction might be the only chance I had to get us both out alive.
My hands trembled as I lifted them away from Ace’s body. My throat tightened as the blood began to flow faster, but I forced myself to keep moving. Trying to be as quiet as possible, and keeping an eye on Barton as he went about his search, I pressed my hand to the ground and pushed it beneath Ace’s back. He was heavy—heavy beyond just his weight. He was heavy in the way a body became when someone was unconscious or…
Nope. I made myself shut that thought down.
I felt the butt of the gun against my fingers and nearly cried with relief. I grabbed on, yanking it out without much resistance. I glanced between Barton’s back and the gun. It was a pistol, a SIG Sauer. A gun my dad had taught me to shoot. My eyes jumped to Barton, then back down to check the safety. It was off. I kept my eyes up while I brought the gun down low and cocked it between my body and Ace’s, trying to muffle the sound. Barton didn’t notice.
Moving, I took to my feet and moved directly behind Barton. I held the gun in both hands, lining up the sight. With a deep breath, I pressed the trigger in.
Barton’s arm flew forward with the force of the shot, his weapon falling to the ground. He cried out as he swung my way. I brought the gun up to point at his head.
“You fucking cunt!” he roared.
Blood poured from his arm, dripping onto the ground. He went to step toward me.
“Stop! Stay where you are,” I ordered.
“You think you have the guts? I fucking dare you, bitch,” he spat. “But you better be fucking sure you kill me. You don’t, I’m coming after you, that club, and your daughter.”
The breath rushed from my lungs and my hands flinched so much, I was surprised I hadn’t accidentally squeezed the trigger.
He knew about Emmy. I hadn’t planned to kill him. I was going to keep him there until the Disciples got there. Stone had to have gotten my message by then. I think I convinced myself we could hand Barton over to the cops. I had no idea how I’d planned to get the guys to agree to that, but I hadn’t really thought about how he would have to die.
Until he mentioned Emmy.
The man had taken my dad, had killed my mother. He threatened the men I called family and planned to rape and kill me. He’d shot Ace. None of that mattered compared to his threat against my Emmaline.
He couldn’t walk away. He couldn’t live another day if he had any ideas about hurting her. The risk was too great.
My heart was pounding. Sweat began beading everywhere. My hands felt slick on the butt of the gun, so I gripped it tighter, until my knuckles started to ache.
“You can’t do it,” he taunted.
No, he was wrong. For Emmaline, I could do anything.
I blinked my stinging eyes to keep my focus on him sharp. The front sight was lined up to the center of his forehead. All I had to do was pull the trigger.
Then, another yell filled my ears.
“Ash!”
Sketch. He was there. They were all probably there. I could
hear the footsteps and muttered curses.
“Ace,” I called back. “He’s been shot.”
“Ash, baby, lower the gun. We’ve got it,” Sketch instructed. It sounded like he was a few feet behind me, but I didn’t look. I didn’t take my eyes off Barton, not even for a second.
“No. No, he shot Ace. He killed Dad. He ordered them to rape my mom.” I adjusted my grip on the gun, centering the sight.
“Baby, he won’t walk away,” Sketch promised.
“He threatened Emmy.”
A hush fell over the men at my back.
“Ash,” Sketch whispered.
“He threatened her. He said he’d come after her. He’ll try. I won’t let him have the chance.”
I felt his presence right before Sketch’s hand touched my back. Every muscle in my body tensed to the breaking point in order to resist the urge to melt into his touch.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “I’ll take care of it. I swear to you. Just give me the gun.”
“No. I have to see it. I have to know he’s gone.”
“Baby, you don’t need to have that in your mind.” His touch became firmer, his hand pressing in as he inched closer.
I took a small step forward. “I do. I need to see it or I’ll never be sure he’s gone. I need to know it’s over.”
“Ash,” he tried again.
“No!” I shrieked.
“Someone else get a fucking shot,” he ordered.
Oh, no. My time was up.
I looked at Barton. I saw my daddy’s face, remembered the morning of the last time I saw him.
“Morning, Firefly,” he greeted when I came into the kitchen. I went right to him, like I did every morning, and he kissed my forehead.
“Morning, Daddy.”
“Coffee?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you. Gabe will be here soon.”
“What’re you doing today?” he asked as he sipped his coffee.
“I don’t know. I think we’re just doing breakfast and then going to hang out at his place.”
He was giving me a weird sort of smile. “Need you to do something.”
“What?”
“Get that boy to the clubhouse at five.”
I cocked my head to the side, confused.
“He’s getting his prospect patch tonight,” he explained.
A smile broke out on my face. “Really?”
“Really, sweetheart. But you gotta keep that to yourself.”
“Of course,” I swore.
Setting his mug down, he walked my way. He spread his arms open and I moved into him, wrapping my arms around his middle. There was only one place on earth I felt as safe as when Gabe held me, and that was right here.
“He’s a good man. I’m glad to know the man taking over the job of caring for you is going to be a Disciple. You’ll always be right here.”
He was right. It was perfect. Gabe and I would always be in Hoffman, right where Dad was always going to be. It was everything I’d wanted since I was a little girl and Gabe told me he was going to become a Disciple, marry me, and we’d have kids together. He said he’d make me the happiest wife ever.
I saw Dad briefly later that night, after Gabe got his prospect patch and the guys threw a party, but only briefly. Gabe and I snuck out early.
I could see Dad’s face so clearly in my mind—his scruffy facial hair, the crinkles by his eyes, the little white scar on his right cheek he made up a crazier story about every time I asked. I’d never gotten another chance to hug him that way, to have him wrap me up tight like I was still a little girl. I’d never smell the tobacco and motor oil that always clung to him. Even, it seemed, when he was just out of the shower.
There was no bringing him back. There was no way for Emmy to know him, to experience the love he would have given her in spades. There was no hearing him call me firefly ever again.
Barton had stolen that from me, he’d stolen it from Emmy, and then he’d threatened to steal her from me, too.
With a calm settling over me that would likely terrify me later, I looked through the sight and pulled the trigger.
The bullet exploded from the gun in Ash’s hands at the same moment another gun fired to my right. Ash’s aim was true, going right to Barton’s head, but so was the other bullet. They collided at the same moment, blowing the asshole’s head apart, sending his body crumbling to the ground.
Not waiting a second, I wrapped both arms around Ash and took the gun from her hand. I held it out to the side and someone grabbed it from me. I didn’t look to see who. Didn’t give a fuck.
Ash’s legs started to go, so I scooped her up and held her to my chest. She was trembling something fierce.
“Ace,” she said.
I looked up and found Doc seeing to Ace. Ham was already rushing away, probably to the van. There was a stretcher we could use to move him without calling emergency services.
“I got a pulse. Weak, but he’s holding on. We need to get him to the hospital now,” Doc announced.
“Barton and his man are both gone,” Jager added.
Gauge appeared from between the trees. “Area’s clear. There’s an access drive a couple yards from here, connects right onto the main road.”
“Call Ham, tell him to bring the van around there,” Stone instructed, but Gauge was already on it. He went on with his orders to the group at large. “Ham and Doc in the van. Doc, you cool with Jager takin’ your bike out of here?” Doc nodded his agreement, his focus still on Ace. “Need a couple men to stay back, keep an eye on this mess until we can get the van back here and move these fuckers out.”
A couple voices rose to volunteer, I didn’t take time to look around for who.
“Jager,” Stone went on, “get on the phone with Andrews. We bring a GSW, questions are going to be asked.”
Stone looked my way. “You got her?” I jerked my chin in response. “Get her out of here.”
I didn’t hesitate. I just left.
As I walked, my pace quick and body tight, I said, “Talk to me, baby.”
“I shot him,” she said in a flat voice.
“You shot at him.”
I felt her head tip up to me. “No, I shot him.”
“You don’t know your bullet hit first,” I told her. It was thin, but it was something.
“But it hit, Gabe,” she returned.
It did. Fuck, if she hadn’t been sage already when she fired, if we hadn’t all been at her back ready to shoot the fucker instead, I would tell her it was a great shot. I’d tell her she’d defended herself and Ace, and that was that.
She had done those things, but there was something more at work.
Fact was, we were all there. She could have put the gun down, let us deal with Barton. It’s what I’d wanted her to do. I had no idea why she wouldn’t let go.
“I’m sorry,” that same lifeless voice said to me. It wasn’t my Ash. She wasn’t in there at the moment.
“Baby, you don’t have one fuckin’ thing to be sorry for. He would have killed you, he nearly killed Ace,” I told her.
Fuck, how much farther was it to my fucking bike? It seemed like that damn place went on forever. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to be able to take Ash home on my bike. At that moment, I wasn’t sure she was capable of holding onto me and being safe while we rode.
“He killed Dad. And my mom.”
Was that what it was about? Revenge?
I looked down at my girl. Her curls were a mess. I could only begin to guess why. Chances were, the answer was going to make me wish I’d been the one to finish off Barton even more. Her blue eyes were dull, looking out at but not seeing the landscape as I carried her through the cemetery. Her skin was pale, ashen. If I couldn’t feel her breaths, see her blink every so often, I would think she was dead.
“He did, Ash. He was a fucking monster.”
“He threatened Emmy,” she said. Then, in a voice that had some life to it, repeated, “He threatened Emmy.” Her head
swung up to look at me. “He threatened her. I couldn’t chance it. I couldn’t.” Her voice rose with panic, absolute terror coming into her eyes. “What if someone else missed? What if he got away and hurt her? I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t. I—”
“Hush, babe. Just breathe.” I wanted to be able to tuck her head into my neck, to run my hands through her hair in the way that always soothed her. “Let me get you out of here. We’ll be home soon, and I’ll take care of you.”
“Oh, god. I killed him. I actually…I…” She seemed to physically choke on the words. “How can I go home and hold Emmy? How do I…?”
“Ash. Stop it. Now. Don’t go there. Just hold on to me.”
Thank fuck, she did it. She burrowed in, gripping me until her nails were digging in. I didn’t give a fuck. She could make me bleed, as long as it kept her together. She held on that way, a punishing hold, once I got her on the bike and the entire ride back.
Ash made it inside the farmhouse from the bike without help. She seemed to be on autopilot. Once we were standing in the living room, she looked at me.
“What do I do now?” she asked.
The was a loaded fucking question, wasn’t it?
There was blood on her arms, on her clothes. I was guessing it was Ace’s. She’d probably tried to keep pressure on the wound before she turned on Barton. I didn’t need to look down to know it was on me as well.
“Shower,” I answered.
Her eyes dipped down, as if just noticing the mess. I should have been ready for it, I should have just taken her to the bathroom without saying anything so I could wash her off before she realized the issue.
Fuck.
She started wiping at her arms, but her hands were no cleaner. All she did was smear the red streaks around, making her rub more desperately.
“Oh, god. Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.”
I grabbed her face with both hands, moving in until I was the only thing in her line of sight.
“Focus on me, baby,” I ordered. “Just me. I’m going to get rid of it. I promise.”
“We need to go to the hospital,” she returned.
“Are you hurt?” I demanded, worried I’d missed something and her shock had distracted her.
