Retaliation: A Twisted Mayhem MC Novel

by Cat Mason

  Placing my hand on her knee, I shake my head. “Roanne, Ivy can say whatever the hell she wants, it won’t change the truth. George Vaughn killed my parents and the police department was paid off to alter the report. As for Dick; what your dad and Olivia did was adultery, not murder.”

  “I feel like I’ve been holding my breath ever since his car exploded, waiting on the call saying he’s never coming home,” she breathes. “Now that he really is gone, I don’t even know how to process it.”

  “Grief like that has to be worked through in stages. Our minds can only wrap around so much of it at a time without completely shutting down,” I reply, remembering the therapy sessions that Al demanded I take shortly after my parents died. The funny thing was, even at that age, I knew I didn’t need some stranger scribbling down shit I said, and analyzing my every breath. I only needed Ro. I had forgotten how simply being close to her makes everything easier. Better.

  I only want to do the same for her.

  I want to be that for her.

  Yet, I feel like I keep failing her at every turn.

  “Thanks, Doctor Stone,” she sighs, making me chuckle.

  “What in the hell is going on over here?” Doc asks, running our way.

  “Interrogation was brutal,” I reply, figuring details won’t matter at this point. Helping Roanne to her feet, I give Doc an apologetic look. “Fed needs patched up again.”

  Doc’s eyes shoot to Ro, his gaze stopping on her busted up knuckles. He nods. “Gotcha.” Stepping around us, he pats her on the arm, shooting her a proud smile. “Attagirl.”

  Roanne doesn’t say a word as we head back into the clubhouse so that she can change out of her wet clothes, but I can see her mind working on overdrive. Walking into the bathroom, she strips down and tosses her wet things into the sink. This entire situation turned to shit, just like I figured it would. My gut instinct told me not to let this happen, even after taking it to the table for a vote. The last thing I expected was for my brothers to agree to that shit. My expectation of a unanimous nay vote was shot to shit the moment Doc mentioned how hard it is for Shy not to be able to confront D.A. after all the shit he did. Then everything blew up from there.

  “You okay?” Grabbing a towel from the shelf beside me, I hold it out for her. “I knew taking you in there was a bad idea. You’ve been through enough.”

  Taking the towel, she wraps it tightly around herself, tucking the end between her breasts. “For the love of fuck,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “Get over yourself already.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Just to clear this up, I don’t blame you for anything that’s happened. That means you can’t sit and blame yourself every time something bad happens.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I need you, Jensen. You’re all I have left. I can’t lose you, too.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I assure her. Reaching out my hand, I brush away a tear from her cheek. “I feel the same way, Baby.”

  “Then I need you to hear me. Really hear what I’m saying, because I can’t stand seeing the pain and guilt of that shit in your eyes.” Reaching out, she brushes the tips of her fingers over my jaw, smiling sadly. “You and Shy have this thing about shouldering all the guilt around here for yourselves. That must be so goddamn exhausting. I couldn’t save my father, but I sure as hell know that he wouldn’t want me sitting here blaming myself. That goes for you, too.” Shoving around me, she stomps toward the dresser. “This is real life. Shit happens,” she says, repeating the words that I said to her outside Olivia’s apartment. “It doesn’t apologize when it gets dirty or painful, and sure as shit doesn’t hand out a warning before it fucks you.”

  “Very funny,” I deadpan, pushing off the wall. “This is different. Wearing the President’s patch makes me responsible for the well-being of everyone attached to the Mayhem patch. The brothers, the women, they all trust me to ensure everyone is safe.”

  “Newsflash, asshole. You can’t protect everyone from everything. You’re not God.” She throws up her hands. “Seriously, you throw out all this advice about life and don’t even apply it to yourself. That’s not being protective, that’s being a hypocrite.”

  “You need to get this shit through that beautiful, stubborn head of yours, Duchess,” I bite out, storming toward her. Spinning her around to face me, I grip her arms, pulling her body flush with mine. “I may not be God, but I am your man.” Hooking her fingers through my belt loops, she steadies herself. Her eyes fly up to meet mine, widening in surprise. “I protect what I love. Plain and fuckin’ simple. That list isn’t long, but Babe, you’ve been at the top of it since I was eight years old.”

  “Huh?” she croaks, swallowing hard.

  “Love you, Ro,” Releasing one of her arms, I slide my hand into her hair. “If I lose you, nothin’ makes sense. I’ll do whatever the fuck I have to do to make sure that never happens. If that means I hose you down when you get crazy, throw you over my shoulder and smack your feisty ass, or tear into you like a tyrant to keep you safe, then you’ll have to figure out how to deal with that shit. Wanna know why?”

  “Uh,” she stammers, unable to form words.

  “Because,” I continue, skimming her cheek with my thumb. “Now that we know how good we are together, there’s no goin’ back to how it was before. Because you like pissin’ me off as much as I like fighting with you.” Tipping her face up, I lean in until our lips almost touch. “Because you love me too.”

  “Did you just turn a fight into a declaration of love?” she asks, tilting her head slightly.

  “Yep.”

  “While I’m standing here, wrapped in a towel?” she continues, her lips twitching in amusement.

  “I could’ve planned that better,” I admit, brushing my lips over hers quickly. “Lose the towel, I’ll start over.”

  “Lose the towel?” she asks, arching a brow. “You gave it to me.”

  “That was a mistake,” I reply without hesitation. “It’s gotta go. I’ve never hated a goddamn towel so much in my life.” Reaching between us, I tug the front of the towel. Roanne gasps, but doesn’t move to stop it when it falls free from her body, landing on the floor at our feet. My hands skim her hips, moving up her ribcage. “That’s better. I need to feel you, Roanne. All of you. Right now.”

  Her fingers move up my arms, slipping into my hair. Pushing up on her toes, Roanne trails her lips along my neck. “I thought we were having an important conversation,” she says, nipping at my skin with her teeth.

  “We are.” My hand moves over her hip to her palm her ass. “I vote you should be naked for all our important discussions. Keeps me focused.”

  “I doubt there’ll be a lot of talking happening that way,” she laughs, her body vibrating against mine, making my cock rock-fucking-hard.

  “Our talks lead to fightin’,” I say, grinding her into my dick. “Fightin’ leads to fuckin’. The way I see it, this saves time.”

  “Talking does not lead to fighting,” she moans, tugging on my hair when my lips find her neck.

  “With you, Baby, it’s damn near guaranteed.” Shifting our bodies, I fall back onto the bed, pulling her down on top of me. Her still damp hair falls down around us, my hands running up and down her soft skin. Not able to wait another second, I roll us, pinning her back to the mattress. Brushing my thumb over her nipple, I lick my lips, eager to suck it into my mouth until she cries out for my cock.

  Bending down, I flick the hardening tip with my tongue before wrapping my lips around it, sucking hard. “Ah!” she moans loudly, arching her back. Her grip on my hair tightens to the point of pain, but I don’t stop. I fucking love it. I love her. The way she feels, the way she tastes, the sounds she makes, it all makes me crazy.

  Anger wells inside me as I think about how close I was to losing her. Reminding me of what has yet to be done.

  Once I fuck her to the point of exhaustion, I will walk back out to that fucking storage building and put a bullet in Richard’s head, knowing the w
oman I love is safe, satisfied, and asleep in my bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Stone

  Brushing the hair from Roanne’s face, I watch her as she sleeps on her stomach beside me. The long, dark hair that, moments ago, was wrapped around my fist while I fucked her hard from behind is now fanned out over the pillow. There is no way Heaven could be any fucking sweeter than the warmth of her soft body pressing against mine. She sighs softly, her body completely relaxed. Not wanting to wake her, I carefully kiss her temple, then slide from the bed to get dressed. I have shit to handle.

  Leaving the room, I stride up the stairs with purpose and determination. I don’t keep hostages. That only leaves loose ends that have the possibility to come back at some point to bite you in the ass. Those loose ends couldn’t be tied up with Roanne in the room.

  Confronting them for closure is one thing, killing them is another. I don’t want Roanne to ever have to live with knowing she took a life. No matter how much that fucker deserves to die. Besides, after what that goddamn Fed tried to do to my girl, I want that kill for myself.

  I plan to enjoy every motherfucking second of it.

  Making a quick stop to see Jinks, I give him the info Roanne and I got from Dick earlier. Happy for a lead as to a location on Ivy, he digs in and gets to work. I peek in on Colt, but don’t bother him since Henley is busy changing his bandages. With the club being under attack, and her having been seen here, Torch felt it necessary she stay here a few days, until things die down. Though she wasn’t too thrilled with the idea, it didn’t take too much convincing, given the amount of injuries she has seen since she arrived.

  When I round the corner, I notice the door is open. “Boy, that little firecracker did a number on you,” Huck laughs, his voice echoing from inside.

  “Fuck yeah she did,” Doc says proudly as I step through the door. Dumping his shit back in his bag, he laughs. “Stone shoulda just saved the bullet and let her finish him off.”

  “I decided that I wanted that for myself,” I toss out, heading their way. Richard’s eyes snap to mine. He looks like shit. The guys weren’t kidding. Ro fucked him up. The entire right side of his face is swollen, making his eyes and nose sit funny on his face like some demented looking Mr. Potato Head toy. “Figured you’d have been done with his ass by now.”

  “We had lunch,” Huck says, jerking his chin in the direction of the empty pizza box. “Can’t work on an empty stomach.”

  “Noted,” I reply, looking to Doc. “You give him anything for pain?”

  “No,” Doc chuckles. “Was I supposed to run him a bubble bath and make him comfortable?”

  “Fuck no. I don’t want anything standing between him and the pain,” I reply, eyeing Richard. “I came out here with the intention of blowing his brains out and being done with this piece of shit.” Yanking the gun from my holster, I hand it to Huck. “Now, I’ve changed my mind. That’s too easy.”

  Taking off my cut, I toss it to the workbench and crack my neck from side to side. “You know, Dick, I’ve never really been a huge fan of guns. Not that they don’t serve a purpose, because they definitely do,” I inform him, yanking on a pair of latex gloves from Doc’s bag. Digging out a Mason jar, I twist the cap off, tossing it to the ground as I face him. “Except, in times like this, the situation calls for something special.”

  Walking over to Hank, Huck slaps his shoulder. “Pay attention, shithead. This is gonna be good.”

  Yanking the knife from my back pocket, I head straight for Dick. “Give me a hand, Doc?” I ask, holding out the half-filled jar of moonshine.

  “Sure thing.” Grabbing the jar, he puts the rim to his lips and sips.

  Towering over Dick, I grab a fistful of his hair, yanking so that his eyes meet mine. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” I ask, pressing the blade to his throat. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

  “Yes,” he breathes, his body entire body shaking.

  “She say no?” I ask, increasing the pressure on his throat with the edge of the blade. “When you threw her down and tried to fucking rape my girl, did she ask you to stop?”

  “Yes,” he gulps. Blood trickles down his throat from where the razor-sharp blade has nicked his skin.

  “Did you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. When he doesn’t answer, what little patience I had snaps. I yank his hair again, he yelps when some of the strands rip from his scalp. “When she said she didn’t want your fucking dick, did you stop trying to get inside her?”

  He swallows hard. “N-n-no,” he stammers, his fucking teeth chattering.

  “No, you didn’t.” I nod my head thoughtfully. “Remember that.” Removing the blade from his neck, I ram it into his groin until the handle hits flesh.

  He screams in agony as I yank up on the blade, not letting up until I feel it hit his pelvic bone. Releasing my hold on him, I kick him in the chest with my boot, sending the chair backwards on to the concrete. “I should rip off what’s left of your dick and shove it down your throat. Let you fuckin’ choke on it.” Grabbing the jar of moonshine from Doc, I take a sip for myself before pouring the liquor over Dick’s hemorrhaging crotch. He screams, begging me to kill him, as the alcohol scorches his open wounds. He thrashes against the ropes, but they don’t give. He sobs incoherently, tears streaming down his face. Pulling a box of matches from my pocket, I flip it open and strike one on the side of the package, smiling when the flame begins to dance. “Instead, I’ve decided to let it go up in flames,” I tell him, tossing it into his lap.

  Leaning back against the workbench, I cross my arms over my chest in satisfaction as the motherfucker burns. He cries out, the sounds of his suffering echoing off the walls. Hank begins to gag and heave, but I keep my eyes locked on Laswell, watching him suffer until he falls silent and all the fight leaves his body.

  Scooping up my leather, I slip it back on before taking back my gun from Huck, securing it inside my cut again. “Good fuckin’ riddance. We’ll get rid of the body after dark. I don’t want to risk Ro, or the other women, seeing anything.”

  “What about Wright?” Huck asks as I head for the door.

  “If he’s not givin’ me anything, he’s wastin’ my time.” I shrug my shoulders. “Feed him a bullet.”

  Not waiting for a response, I leave the building and head down toward the line of junk vehicles. Dropping the tailgate of Vic’s pickup, I sit and blow out a breath. Staring out at the ridge, I draw on the peace I can always find here and let the frustrations and tension in my body flow out of me into the wind. The release of knowing that piece of shit got even a fraction of what he deserved makes me feel damn good. Though, this is far from over. Richard Laswell and Hank Wright are only pawns. Dick, Hank, D.A., hell even the fucking Hywood Brotherhood are all pawns in her game, pieces of an intricate puzzle that end with her. I know good and well that I won’t be able to sleep for shit until I know Ivy Vaughn has been handled.

  The sooner we get the details on this place out on Gladeville Ridge, the sooner we make our move and end this shit once and for all.

  Once my head is clear of all the bullshit, and I find myself focused, I head back up to see what Jinks has found out. Chief McKelvy’s car is parked in front of the clubhouse. “As if I need shit from this fucker today,” I mutter to myself as the driver side door swings open and he steps out.

  “Guessin’ that shit my boys are sortin’ through down in Thurmond Valley is your doing?” he asks, sounding irritated.

  “I don’t start shit, Chief,” I fire back. “But I damn sure finish it.”

  “Do you have any idea what kind of shit storm I have on my hands at the station?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “I spent the morning on the phone with Laswell’s superiors. Turns out he was never even assigned to the case. He was in Knoxville visiting his mother, Olivia Rose. The agent who was supposed to be here never showed up. Can’t find the guy. Now, Laswell’s off the grid too and I’m facing a bunch of pissed off Feds who are probably opening up their own intern
al investigation into all of this shit as we speak.” Taking off his hat, he tilts his head to the side, studying me. “For fuck’s sake. Laswell’s dead. Isn’t he?”

  “Yep,” I nod, smiling like the smug bastard I am. “You just missed the barbecue.”

  “What happens next, Son? You can’t kill everyone and I don’t have a clue how I’m supposed to explain any of this shit. Those Feds are going to be expecting answers.”

  I arch a brow. “Last I checked, you know how to falsify a police report. You cover my ass, and protect the club, or you expose your own. You are stupid enough to risk that happening twice. As for Dick, he was in on the whole fuckin’ thing,” I shrug. “Sounds like he slipped away when the heat got too much for him.”

  “Right,” he agrees. Gripping the back of his neck with one hand, he squeezes. “Because it couldn’t get any worse.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” My smile widens. “It can get a lot worse. Because chances are she’s comin’ for you, too.”

  “Who?”

  “Ivy Vaughn.” His eyes widen at the mention of her last name. “Being that you broke the deal you had with her father and turned him over to us.”

  Once I am sure McKelvy isn’t going to have a stroke in the parking lot, I bring him up to speed on everything that has happened since Roanne was taken and Hoss was killed. I assure him that the house fire in Thurmond Valley will come back looking like an accidental fire set by stupid kids or homeless squatters. Though he is definitely not happy about the situation, I manage to get him calmed down enough for us to work shit out in a way that won’t blow back on any of us.

  “Hey!” Jinks shouts, running out of the clubhouse, holding up the phone we took off Richard. “You need to see this.” McKelvy and I both move quickly, meeting him at the steps. “Turns out good ol’ Dick wasn’t lyin’ after all. Looks like that supply drop D.A. set up is going down tomorrow night.”

  “That’s our way in,” I say clapping him on the back. “Find out the crew running the drop. I need to set up a meet.”