In love and ruins

by Rachael Tonks

  “Okay,” I reply.

  “But I’m leaving the shotgun. You use it should you need to.” She points her finger at my chest, lightly making contact. “Don’t let anyone ever hurt you again. Got it?”

  “I didn’t let this happen, Mom.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she quickly responds. “I just want you to make sure you’re armed and protecting yourself at all times. Okay, baby?”

  “Yes, Mom,” I say offering her a quick smile.

  “Good,” she says reaching up and cupping my cheek gently. “Well, I better get outta here.” Throwing her arm up, she rushes out of the room and down the hall. I step into the doorway, leaning against the frame. Part of what she said was right. I should have killed that fucker. Put a bullet in his skull. Instead, I ran away, fleeing for my life. Given the chance, I should’ve ended it there.

  Heading into the living room, I slide down onto the small couch, grabbing the remote and flicking through the channels.

  A few minutes later, Mom appears with her purse slung over her shoulder. “I’m off. The shotgun is beside the door. It’s locked and loaded. You know what to do.” Giving me a firm nod, she opens the door, shouting a fleeting goodbye as she closes it behind her.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Staring blankly at the screen, I flick through the channels, but nothing on the screen registers. I feel empty and lost as I try to focus on something. Anything.

  Thud. Thud.

  I can’t help but jump at the sound. I walk over to the window, discreetly checking who is at the door. I’d notice her beautiful white-blonde hair anywhere. Rushing over to the door, I drop the lock, opening it slowly.

  “Hey,” I say weakly.

  “Oh my God, Tara,” she says, throwing her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. I suck in a sharp breath and she relaxes her hold on me.

  “You’re hurting?” she asks, her eyes hard on me.

  I nod, pulling in my bottom lip.

  “What? How? How did this happen, Tara? Nate said you were mugged?”

  I reach past her, securing the door shut, her eyes following me. She notices the shotgun beside the door and her eyes widen.

  “You want a drink?” I ask, rubbing my neck nervously.

  “No,” she snaps. “What I want is to know what the hell happened to you.”

  I fill my lungs, slowly letting out a breath, my chest tightening at the thought of reliving the whole thing. If I tell her it has to be brief. Rehashing the whole goddamn thing is no good for my recovery.

  “Come in,” I say, indicating for her to follow me. I make my way into the living room, sitting down on the couch. Izzy follows me, sitting right by my side.

  “Did Jeffries do this?” she blurts out. “I need to know.”

  I cover my face with my hands, dropping my head forward. “Yes,” I simply state. “I went to speak to Nate. I was half-cut but desperate to see him. To make him understand that whatever stands in our way we can be together. He freaked when he saw me and sent me away. I was hurt, drunk, and confused. I mean now it makes sense, but at the time, after seeing him with that new biker chick, I flipped out. So I went back for him, only I never made it. Jeffries got hold of me, started touching me. I fought him the best I could, but it was no use.” I stop, sniffling, as I try to find the strength to continue.

  “Jesus, Tara. I’m sorry.”

  “He drugged me, Izzy. I don’t remember anything other than waking beside him, sore and covered in bruises.”

  Grabbing my hand, she pulls me into her, my head landing on her shoulder. I cry uncontrollably. Her hand strokes the back of my head as I let out every emotion I’d tried to keep locked inside.

  “I got you, honey,” she soothes.

  “Izzy, I don’t know what to do,” I choke out. “I tried to kill him. Pulled a gun on him but he overpowered me. I fought to get out, to get away. I pulled out his knife and stabbed him in the leg. Izzy, I’m lucky to be alive.”

  “Who knows?” she asks as I pull back, her head dropping as she tries to meet my eye. “Did you go to the police?”

  “No,” I throw out. “I can’t tell the police. No one can know, Izzy. NO. ONE.”

  With a small gasp, she squeezes my hand. “You have to tell someone. We have to deal with this asshole.”

  “How?” I ask with a sad smile. “I’m confused, hurt, and lost in all of this, Izzy.”

  “He has to go,” she replies matter of fact, anger evident in her features. “Asshole needs to pay for what he’s done to you. Believe me. These men never change. He won’t stop at this. He’ll keep going and going until he has torn you apart.” She screws up her face and her jaw tightens. I swallow down the dread that has built up. I knew this conversation would be hard.

  “Are you okay?” I ask warily. “This is close to the bone for you.”

  “Every day gets easier. Believe it or not, the pain you feel, deep in your gut, will subside. But the memories. Those fuckers never leave you.” Crossing her arms, her shoulders stoop. A stormy look crosses her face and I now know a fraction of how she feels. “We have to stick together.” She offers me a weak smile. I can’t help but embrace her. Because right now, knowing what she went through, and the nightmares that haunt her, my problems pale in comparison. I hold so tightly to her. Knowing that we need each other, and she’s the only one that can help me through this.

  Releasing her, I notice she swipes away a tear sliding across her cheek. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” I say, wondering whether this is too much for her.

  “Don’t be silly,” she tuts. “I’m your best friend. I’m hurting because you’re hurting and I want to know how we can make this right. How exactly do we deal with that bastard?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “I won’t allow you to live in fear, Tara,” she cuts me off mid-sentence.

  “Well I’m planning on staying here for a little while longer. I gotta get my shit together. Besides, I feel safe here. He doesn’t know where I am. That makes me feel a hell of a lot safer.”

  She shakes her head, her brows drawn together. “I hate this,” she growls. “I hate that he’s done this to you. Let me tell Brax. He’ll know how to deal with this. He’ll hire someone, get the job done real quick.”

  “You can’t,” I blurt out. “You can’t tell him.”

  “I don’t understand,” she croaks. “After what he’s done to you, you should want your revenge. That sick fucker should be dead and buried in the woods.”

  “You tell Brax, and he’ll tell Nate. Do you really think Nate will want me when he knows what his father did to me? I have nothing if I lose him again, Izzy.”

  “Shit,” she grumbles. “I get it. I really do, but it doesn’t mean I agree with it.”

  “Nate hates his father because of what he’s done to us. Forcing us apart and torturing him for being with me. He said something about taking care of it. I have to hope that Nate can pull it off. He loves the club and his brothers. He wants to make a difference and I believe he will.”

  “And… you’re okay with being his old lady? You’re just going to slip into club life? Huh?” She snorts.

  “If that’s what it takes to be by his side, I’ll do it.”

  Nate

  “Here, take this.” I hold out my hand to Emily, her eyes widening as she recognizes what I’m clasping.

  “Shit.” She continues to gawk. “What the hell you want me to do with that?” Her eyes widen and I can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous look on her face.

  “Self-preservation one oh one,” I say with a chuckle. “Take the goddamn gun.” I push it towards her and she steps back, holding her hands up in the air.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “I’ve just never had one before.”

  “Well, around here, we all have them. You need to protect yourself.” I reach for her hand, dropping the gun into her palm before wrapping fingers around it. “Emily, I have to ri
de this afternoon, club business. I need to know that you can take care of yourself while I’m gone.”

  She takes the gun, gulping down but nodding in acceptance. “Keep it with you at all times.”

  “Sure,” she replies with a hint of sarcasm.

  “I ain’t fucking around, Emily. That gun never leaves your side, got it?”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “And use today to get to know some of the other girls. They’ll be arriving shortly to do some cleaning around the place. You gotta fit in. Make it known you’re staying with me. We need everyone to believe this cover story, no questions asked.” I turn, grabbing my cut and sliding it on over my shoulders. “You should come down, see us off. The guys need to see you with me. My father has to believe this is real.”

  “Of course.” She nods grabbing her purse, dropping the gun inside and throwing it over her shoulder.

  “Let’s go.” I hold out my hand and her eyes pause on it momentarily before she takes it. I link fingers with her, knowing this is something I have to do. We make our way downstairs and out front. The guys gather around, eyes focusing on us as we approach the men. Whistles and jeers welcome us, and I side-glance at Emily. Her cheeks have reddened, but I offer her a wink anyway. Leaning into my arm, she clutches on to me for dear life.

  “Well if it isn’t love's young dream,” my father yells. I offer him a nod and his grin widens. “Glad to see the two of you together.”

  My heart races as the whole group seem to accept our statement. Standing here, holding hands, sends a clear message, one that will hopefully allow me to see my real girl. Tara.

  “Thanks, man,” I say, walking over to my bike. I loosen the hold on her hand as I mount the bike, sliding on my helmet. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her close, kissing her fleetingly on the lips.

  “You take care, alright?”

  “Sure thing,” she replies with a lift of her brow. She rubs my shoulder, playing along and I couldn’t be prouder. I think we may just pull this off.

  “Let’s ride, motherfuckers!” my father yells, revving his engine and leading the group. We follow one by one. He sets the pace, and like a pack of loyal dogs, we follow.

  After over an hour of riding we finally pull up at the Deathseekers' meeting point. Jarvis drives the van, ready to bring back the gear. The meet point is a little off the beaten track, but it’s the only way to do business. Away from civilians and any kind of law enforcement.

  One by one we pull up outside the warehouse, killing the engines and stepping off. I glance over at the Deathseekers' bikes that are also lined up. The eerie quiet location makes me feel uneasy. The fact is we are now dealing guns with a rival gang, a deal we really don’t need to do because the money I took from Alvrez set us up for years. None of this makes sense. Reaching into my back pocket, I grab my gloves, pulling them onto my hands. I take no chances at leaving fingerprints.

  “Let’s get the party started,” Silver hollers, pointing toward the metal door to the warehouse. I look over my shoulder to see Zane just behind me but staying close. Davo is on my left side, and I feel a little reassured to have him with me. I know I can trust the guy with my life.

  “Let’s see what these fuckers have to offer,” he says in a hushed voice and a raise of his brows.

  I lean my head toward Davo. “Do you think we really need to do this deal, man? The money we made from Alvrez meant we could keep our heads down and out of trouble. Yet here we are, looking at goddamn guns. I can’t make sense of it.”

  He stands in a regimental stance, hands clasped in front of him. “Your father has become greedy. He’s too accustomed to the life you have given him this past year. He knows full well that money won’t last forever.”

  “Fuck,” Silver says slamming his clenched fist against the metal door once more. “Why the fuck aren’t they answering?”

  My father clutches a cigar between his fingers, pulling out his cell with his free hand, ready to call Brewer. His attention is suddenly caught by the metal garage door opening.

  “Gentlemen,” Brewer welcomes us, his arms open wide as he steps from the warehouse.

  “Brewer, man, it’s been too long.” My father steps toward him, taking his embrace and patting him lightly on the back.

  “Good to see you, Jeffries.”

  “Just glad we could finally put all of our shit behind us,” my father offers, parting from Brewer and squeezing his shoulder lightly.

  “Me too,” he replies with a smile. “Come,” he says with a nod of his head. “Let me show you the hardware.”

  “Can’t wait.” My father claps his hands together.

  “Yeah, man. You’re really doing us a favor taking these off us. The heat has been on us lately. We had to move all our stock here,” he says gesturing to the warehouse.

  “Great fucking location.”

  “You would think, right?” Brewer lets out a huge breath. “Our intel suggests that the feds are onto us. That’s why we have to get rid of the rest of these. Fast.”

  “Well, I’m your man,” my father quips.

  The whole crew follows my father and Brewer inside. The rest of the Deathseekers crowd around the huge wooden crates at the back of the warehouse.

  “I take it we get to try these babies out?” my father inquires, and Brewster replies with a nod.

  “Goes without saying, man. I take it you brought the money?”

  “You bet.” My father turns to Silver who is clutching the bag full of money, reaching out and taking it from him. Resting the cigar between his teeth, he starts to open the bag, showing the cash to Brewer and his crew.

  “Good, good,” Brewer says, nodding his head, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the money. He instructs his men to remove the lid from the crate and we step forward, checking out the array of guns on offer. The men whistle at the sight of AK47s, shotguns, and a whole range of illegal semi-automatic guns.

  “Impressive,” I say with wide eyes.

  “Yeah, man,” my father says in agreement.

  “Shall we take them outside and do a little target practice?” Brewer asks.

  “Hell to the fucking yeah,” Silver blurts out like an excited child.

  Brewer gives the nod to his men and they carry a small crate out of the rear door.

  “Follow me, gentlemen,” his smarmy voice calls to us and I have that feeling of dread again. I eye him warily and he lifts his brows as though questioning my skeptical expression.

  Walking through the side door, they lead us to the rear of the warehouse. Makeshift targets have been set up, pinned against large trees just slightly in the distance.

  “Silver, Nate, try these out.” My father reaches into the box, handing me the AK. Holding the military-style gun, I get the gun ready to fire. Pulling back the operating rod, I release the safety. Placing the butt of the gun against the front of my shoulder, I grasp the grip and hover my finger over the trigger. Tipping my head, I look straight down the barrel and towards the target. Squeezing the trigger slowly, the loud cracking sound rings out as the gun fires rapidly. The more I fire the more it buzzes in my ear. When the target on the tree is almost obliterated, I release my finger, lowering the gun.

  “Fuck,” I breathe out as the adrenaline of firing such a powerful weapon buzzes through me.

  “That good, eh?” Brewer says to me, holding his hand out for the gun. I quickly flick back on the safety before handing it over.

  “I could get used to firing a gun like that,” I say, blowing out a controlled breath. Placing the gun back in the crate, I watch as my father tries out the shotgun and Silver takes his turn with the AR-15 pistol.

  I step back in line with the other guys while my father talks over things with Brewer.

  Jarvis leans into me, quietly whispering in my ear. “This whole thing seems a little too good to be true, man.”

  “I agree. Let’s hope we can pull this thing off.” My eyes watch the Deathseekers one by one, shaking my father’s hand. “Come o
n,” I say with a tip of my head, leading the guys back inside and out front to our bikes. We stand there, waiting for my father and his VP to appear.

  Within a few minutes the men walk out, the Deathseekers carrying the crates. We race over to help them, loading them into the back of the van.

  “Thanks, man.” One of the crew offers me a smile, his face looking familiar.

  “Don’t I know you?” I offer back, wracking my brain as I try to work out who this guy is and where I’ve seen him before.

  “I don’t think we’ve ever met.” The guy shrugs and I can’t help but notice how young he is. “Brewer’s my old man,” he offers with a grin, and now I see it.

  “Shit, yeah. Should have realized.” I reach inside my pocket, pulling out my smokes and offering him one.

  “Thanks, man.” He takes one from the packet and I offer him a light.

  “So, you’re the heir to the Deathseekers, huh?”

  “I’ve only just officially joined the crew, but yeah, it’s in my blood.”

  “Me too,” I say, directing my gaze over to my father. “Jeffries is my old man.”

  “Two of a kind,” he says, taking a huge drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in rings. “Be good for us to strike up a good working relationship. I know the history between the two clubs, but there’s no reason why we can’t put it behind us and move onto a more lucrative working partnership.”

  “Agreed.” Offering my hand to him, he takes it, shaking.

  My father hands the bag of money to Brewer, wrapping up the deal.

  “Let’s get out of here,” my father instructs and we all jump back on our bikes, Jarvis makes his way into the van.

  “Davo and I will ride behind the van, protect the cargo,” I yell over the hum of the engines to my father.

  “You both ride up front with the rest of us. The van tails us. Got it?”

  I lift my hand in acceptance, looking at Davo beside me. He shakes his head and I know he sees and feels the same fucking frustrations that I do.

  My father sets off, and one at a time, we pull away from the warehouse and head out onto the main road. Constantly checking my wing mirrors, I keep a close eye on the van and Jarvis behind us. I don’t like that he has thousands of dollars’ worth of firearms unprotected.