A New Life Series - Finisher Set

by Samantha Jacobey

  Replacing her gloves, she noticed that Enrique was still fighting with his, “You hate riding in the cold, don’t you.”

  “Yeah,” he confessed with a brief nod. “We was headed someplace warm when we seen your picture on the cover of that magazine. Been cold ever since.” Looking up at her, his brown orbs softened, “It’s ok though. I’m glad we’re heres with you.”

  “Yeah, me too,” she admitted quietly. “And that’s not true,” she teased, “We did have ten days in LA. It was warm there!”

  He smiled at her laughter, “Yeah. At least we gets to take the plane after this, and we’re headin’ south after that.”

  Michael joined them, stretching inside his own gear, “We doing ok over here?”

  “I’m not stopping too often, am I?” she shifted the grin to her mate.

  “No, baby girl,” he replied. “You stop as often as you need to, to warm up or whatever.” Reaching up, he slapped the other man on the arm, “We ready, or you guys need a few more minutes?”

  “I’m good,” Enrique countered, glancing at the girl.

  “Me too,” she nodded, and they collected the others to be off again, keeping to the pattern, stopping every one-hundred miles or so for necessities and for a break from the rush of cold air.

  Shortly before reaching Omaha, they ran into actual snow. They were more than ready to pull in for the night, and made an effort to locate chains for all of them, in case the poor road conditions continued.

  “I guess we’re not sleeping at a campground tonight,” Mason volunteered while they were ordering their dinner at roadside café.

  “No,” Tori answered flatly, “We get a motel tonight, get warm and have some showers.” It might have only been 6 pm, but the sun had set, and the temperatures, which were already unsettling, would be dropping well below freezing. “Why couldn’t we have made this little trip in the summer?” she tossed out jokingly, her face sagging with exhaustion.

  The group laughed along with her, and the meal passed comfortably enough. Finding their way to a motel, the group only took three rooms, deciding it would be better to stick close together. Tori got into the shower as soon as they were inside, and had fallen asleep before Michael was finished with his. Curling up behind her between the sheets, he held her in his arms, thankful for one more chance to hold her in the darkness.

  It’s My Call

  The following morning, the group got up early and headed out right after breakfast, again making frequent stops all the way to Denver. Once there, Tori bought everyone a new go-phone and they exchanged numbers, saving them into the memory on each device.

  “Why are we doing this, exactly?” Geek put forth the question.

  Tori smiled, “We may need to get in touch with each other quickly. We won’t always be together, and no one will be able to track us or anything because they’re brand new.” She waved her little phone at him, unconsciously looking over at Eli as she spoke.

  “Don’t worry,” the agent frowned. “I don’t think we are a target of anyone outside The Organization. Godfry wants this done, and he’s covering for us.”

  The girl only nodded, then informed them of the next portion of her plan. “We need to park some of the bikes at the airport. There’s security there, and it’s unlikely they will be disturbed. I’ll ride with Michael and park mine. He and I are going to scout the rep’s hangout. While we’re doing that, you guys need to acquire alternate vehicles for us. We need a van, full-sized. Plus, we need another car, and leave Eli’s with the bikes. Then, you can secure us some lodgings for the night. Something along the lines of what we had last night will do.”

  Following her to their parking spots, Tori shut off her engine and climbed on behind her husband, leaving the other men to work out the logistics of accomplishing their tasks. Going their separate ways, she and Michael made their way across town, arriving at the small bar she knew housed the reps office. “Do they always use bars?” he asked after they parked up the street, and had a look around.

  “Not necessarily,” her breath frosted as they walked down the sidewalk. “In fact, this is the only one. The other three are different types of businesses; a diner, a pawn shop, and beauty parlor.”

  “A beauty parlor?” he shot back in surprise. “What the hell kinda mobster uses a beauty parlor for a front?”

  “A smart one, I guess,” she shrugged. “If I were a cop, looking to shake somebody down, that’s the last place that I would hit.”

  “Agreed,” he said as he opened the door, holding it while she made her way inside, then followed, casting his eyes around the smoke filled room. Switching to German, he kept his voice low, “Head to the bar. We’ll order drinks and pretend like we’re only passing through.”

  Making her way over to the row of stools, Tori slid onto one and asked for Coors in a bottle for both of them. Taking a seat next to her, Michael leaned over, catching her back belt loop with his thumb and allowing his hand to hang from it. Picking up the frosty bottle, he continued to peer around, his wife watching as he took a swig.

  “You’re really going to drink that?” she inquired.

  “Yeah, why not? It’s only one,” he stared at her, aware that she had never seen him touch so much as a drop. “I can hold my liquor, thanks,” he gave her a boyish grin.

  Leaning against him, she folded her hands and lay still, her eyes searching down the dark hallway that lay on the opposite side of the room, where the shop owners conduced business. “I count six men,” she spoke only loud enough for him to hear.

  “Yeah, me too,” he nonchalantly traded his half empty bottle for her full one. “Pretend to have a drink, love.” Sitting up, she obeyed, lifting the brew, but not actually swallowing.

  Replacing the glass container on the bar, she announced her potty break and headed for the bathroom. Making her way down the other hallway, part of the public areas of the bar, she peeked into the open doors as she made her way by. Taking care of her business, she exited a few minutes later, noticing that there were a few more men in the room than before.

  Arriving back at her husband, he turned, allowing her to stand between his legs as he grinned at her, and she leaned forward to kiss him, feeling her stomach turn at the taste of him. Sensing her distress, he looped his arm around her, “You ok?”

  Shaking her head, “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” she muttered, then called out rather loudly, “I don’t feel well. Kinda dizzy. You mind calling it an early night?”

  “Naw, baby,” he gave her a small squeeze and pulled out his wallet to drop a $20 on the bar. “Thanks,” he gave the bartender a nod and led her back out, into the cold.

  “Are you really sick?” he asked as they arrived at his bike.

  “A little,” she confessed, pulling on her gloves. “I should call Eli and find out where we’re staying.” Flipping open her phone, she discovered that he had sent her a text, containing directions to their motel, a room number, and a little smiley face, which made her giggle.

  “What?” Michael swung onto the leather seat, and she showed him the message. “Awww, isn’t that sweet. I think he still likes you,” he cooed.

  Tori grimaced. “Yeah, he does. Not that it means anything,” she replied, then swung herself onto the seat behind him, thankful she hadn’t ridden over on her own.

  Arriving at the rooms a short time later, they discovered that they were the last ones there. Knocking on the door that Eli had indicated, they were allowed to make their way inside, only to discover it would be, in fact, their only room.

  Seeing her displeased scowl, he explained, “Something’s going on in town, and there're no rooms, anywhere. I was lucky to get this one.”

  “It’s ok; we can share. It’s not like the floor is harder than the ground,” her mate quipped easily; seeing Enrique grinning, he corrected, “The beds, buddy… we can share the beds.”

  “Right,” the other man nodded in an exaggerated fashion. “Yeah, I guess we’ve pretty much settled the other ‘s
haring,’ haven’ we, baby girl.” He grabbed her, turning her and pressing the front of his body against hers, leaning in and breathing into her ear.

  “I’m really tired, baby,” she leaned her forehead against his, curious if her husband would react. To her surprise, the action didn’t have the effect she had anticipated. Instead, her mate turned his back, grunting while he dug through his bag for something, basically ignoring them. The rest of the group stared at the trio, their odd behavior too commonplace to worry over.

  Enrique’s arms around her, his hands moved up her back, “Its ok,” he conceded, seeing that he wasn’t going to get a rise out of the other man. “You get some sleep, baby girl. No one’s gonna bothers you.” His fingers ran through her tresses, and he gave her a small peck on her cheek before he released her.

  Pushing past him to stand between the two beds, Tori pulled off her boots and dropped her jeans to the floor. Unhooking her bra, she slid it out through an armhole, and it landed on top of the denim. Finally, she climbed into the bed on her left, wearing only her tee and panties. “I don’t care who sleeps with me, just don’t wake me up,” she called out as she scrunched into the center of the bed, taking one of the pillows for herself.

  The room was dead quiet, as pairs of eyes flicked from one man to the next. Finally, Brett spoke up, “Part o’ us can take the floor. It’s really not a big deal,” his mind briefly contemplating if she weren’t in her current condition, would the group actually share her?

  Assuming sleeping positions, Michael stripped down to his briefs and slid into the bed behind his wife. Draping his arm across her, he breathed into her hair, allowing his hand to push its way down to rest on the lower part of her stomach. Things are changing fast, love. We have to make it through this. All of us. Closing his eyes, he also drifted off to sleep.

  Black as Night

  The following morning, they took turns in the shower, getting dressed and then making their way to a café for coffee before they split up. Michael, Tori and Enrique occupied the van, going to pick up the supplies from the storage, while the others took the remaining bikes over to the airport to park them.

  They regrouped two hours later a few blocks from the bar, at another diner. Pushing a few tables together, they made their final plans, and waited for the right moment to make their move.

  “Are you sure this’s the plan you want to follow?” Michael asked after they were seated.

  “Of course, it is,” she glared at him with tired eyes, “Why do you ask?”

  “Because, if you’ve had a change of heart, or have decided on a different path, now’s the time to speak up. Otherwise, once we leave here, there’s no turning back.” He paused, giving her a moment to decide, and then pushed on, “I’ll call and have the plane ready. We hit these guys before the bar opens, and clean them out.”

  “They all die,” she muttered, sipping from her glass of water.

  “Yeah,” he exhaled noisily through his nose, suddenly not sure he was prepared to watch his wife take a man’s life. “That’s what I meant. Anyways, we get to the airport, maybe an hour, hopefully, less. This isn’t one of our usual places, so it may take a while. From there, about two hours to LA.”

  “Yup,” Tori flicked her eyes up at him, “And I’ll give you further directions on the plane. When we get there, we want the turnaround time to be as short as possible.” She looked dolefully at the group, her mood somber. Watching the elderly man who wiped down the counter, her mind drifted away, to a diner in Texas, where Trish spent her days, working to build a future and provide for her sons.

  “This won’t be as easy as I thought it would be,” she confessed, her voice low.

  “You don’t thinks we can do this?” Enrique sounded miffed.

  “No, that’s not it. When I was pissed about them hurting my family, or my friends, I wanted this badly, but if they’re not in any danger, things are less… clear.” Her shoulders had slowly been sinking into a droop; her thoughts still muddled.

  “That’s what I was talking about,” Michael pointed at his bride for a moment, then retracted the digit. “We could skip all of this, go straight down and cut off the head. I think that would be much cleaner.”

  “No, this is the plan we should follow,” she nodded, still watching the shop’s owner, “I’m sure of it.”

  Another patron entered the café, taking a seat at the counter on one of the polished stools. The old man glanced over at him, not bothering to ask for his order. Instead, he went into the back, returning shortly with an envelope, which the man placed inside his jacket, in an inner pocket.

  “You were short last week,” the patron’s voice was gruff, his Spanish a little less than smooth.

  “Yes, sir,” the old man picked up his rag to wring it between his hands, “Better business, better pay,” he replied in broken English.

  Tori stiffened, grinding her teeth as she listened. Enrique, seated next to her, stretched his arm behind her, toying with her hair as he studied her placid features.

  “Relax, baby girl. We gots this,” he leaned closer to her to whisper, and her stomach did a summersault when she met his gaze.

  “I know, baby,” she murmured back, returning her focus to the shop’s owner.

  Watching the patron depart a few minutes later, her blood began to boil. Flicking her eyes over at the victim, she could see the fear on his face, and she knew what the envelope contained. Standing, she called to the others, “Let’s go. Eli, you and Geek bring the vehicles, but hang back and follow.”

  Outside, the patron walked, and she could hear him whistling as he entered a shop a few doors down.

  “What’re you going to do?” Michael interrupted her thoughts.

  “Well, I’m not going to cut off the head,” she moved a few steps closer to wait, her eyes roaming the street. “I’m going to break their fucking backs.” The man exited a few minutes later, continuing down the walk, and she matched his pace, the rest of the group falling in behind after she had gotten a good lead.

  With the number of people coming and going, the patron turned the corner, unaware of being followed. Tori cursed him as they moved, sorry bastards; taking from people who work so hard. If she had needed reminding why she had agreed to this job, he had done well. She wouldn’t do this for herself; this would be for all the people that they hurt.

  Quickening her pace, she caught up to the man, measuring him to be about her height, with broad shoulders beneath the heavy coat. Right on his heels, he cut through the alley, headed for the bar.

  Catching him with a blow to the back of the neck, she knocked him to the ground.

  He rolled, getting to his feet, and spinning around to face her. Seeing his assailant, he released a boisterous laugh, “What the fuck’re you up to, bitch?” dusting snow from his jacket.

  “I’d like an introduction,” she stated calmly, staring with steely grey eyes.

  Laughing even louder, he glared at her team as they came up behind her, “These guys with you?” he tossed his chin at them.

  “Yeah, this’s my crew,” she appeared unruffled.

  “Your crew,” he wiped his nose with the back of his glove, “Bitches don’t run crews. You must have the wrong guy,” he sneered.

  “You work for The Organization, yes?”

  His mouth hung open slightly, “Some days,” he nodded, peering past her again at the men behind her. Taking a moment, he appeared to be weighing his options. “This way,” he finally waved for her to follow, “But if they don’t accept you, you’ll leave in a body bag,” he warned.

  “I’ll take my chances,” she walked beside him, keeping her gaze moving and watching for trouble.

  Entering the bar, the man called out immediately, “Hey, Hector! Some broad here to see you.” Turning to look at her over his shoulder, he smirked, pulling off his gloves.

  Hector turned out to be a rather short for a man, five-foot eight at best. Coming out from the business side of the bar, he held a pistol in his hand, wip
ing it down with a rag. “Some broad, huh,” he grinned at the girl, looking her up and down. “You’s here las’ night. I seen you.”

  “I was,” she smiled crookedly.

  “And what’s it you wants?” his eyes flicked down at the gun he was holding, watching her move calmly around his showroom, picking up a pool cue and turning it in her hands.

  Eight men, gangs all here, she counted mentally. “I want to know how to find the Spiders. Where are they?” she asked aloud, twisting her stick. She looked away, hearing the rumble begin low and build from several of their opponents.

  “Spiders? What spiders?” he challenged her with a sneer, shoving his chest out for display, toying with her.

  “The ones you command,” she didn’t mince words, “When The Organization sends word… I’m sure they’re pretty busy as of late.”

  His smile disappeared, “You got some set o’ balls, for a bitch… comin’ in heres askin’ ‘bout ‘em by name.”

  Her eyes swept over to stare at him, squinting slightly. “That’s cause I ain’t scared o’ them,” she drawled, “Now, we gots sum choices here. You tell me where they’s at, or I can beats the shit outta ya, an’ then ya can tells me.”

  He full on laughed in response. “Ya hear this bitch?” he bellowed. “Thinks she’s a badass.” He popped the rag, rocking his jaw for a moment, “Kills ‘em.”

  His lackeys leapt into action, Tori catching the one coming for her upside the head, then her knife popped open while he spun around. The next instant, it found its way between his ribs, piercing his heart before she pulled it free. With a quick side step, she caught the one that Michael battled in the back of the head with the cue, then slit his throat cleanly from behind. Thirty seconds in, Hector and the patron were the only two left alive.

  “Hold him,” she commanded, pointing at the larger man, flicking her knife in her right hand and clutching her makeshift club in the other. Turning to face the leader, she could tell by the look on his face that the gun was empty.