Together in ruins (The Scars series Book 4)

by Rachael Tonks

  “You fucking bitch,” he roars, stumbling from the bed and standing, stooped over as he cradles his crotch.

  “Boss,” the voice calls over and over and footsteps approach, getting louder with every thud. My eyes dart to the figure at the top of the steps. Ozzie stands there breathlessly, his eyes bugging out. “It’s Levin. He’s dead, brother.”

  “What the fuck!” Jeffries growls, straightening himself before dashing over to me. His hand lands heavily on my throat. He squeezes, inching tighter and tighter. His fingers curl around my throat, pressing and closing my airway. Thrashing my legs, I try to get him to let go. But it’s no use. I can’t breathe. His hold is too tight and my head spins as I try to gasp for air. My heart that once thudded starts to slow and my mind grows hazy as I believe I’m about to die. Only his hold weakens, and I tilt my head back, gasping and gulping in air. My heart's rhythm picks back up and my chest rises and falls as I feel my body and mind slowly coming to life.

  “You’re lucky. Lucky that Ozzie interrupted us. Because if he hadn’t… God help me, I would have kept going until you were nothing more than a lifeless corpse.”

  Silent tears trickle over my cheeks as I watch the devil turn his back on me, walking down the steps. For now, I’m thankful that I’m still alive. Whatever is going on bought me some time.

  Nate

  Riding recklessly, I weave in and out of traffic in a desperate attempt to get to her. To find Tara before it’s too late. I am beyond rage and anger and giving into desperation. I have to find her. Stop him, my asshole father, from hurting her.

  How will I ever live with myself if I don’t?

  All of my life, until I met Tara, I felt like a failure. My father told me often enough. And when someone tells you something for long enough, you start to believe them. But this is one thing I will not fail at. No fucking way.

  Finding Tara and taking her home is the only thing that matters right now.

  I continue to ride, checking in my mirrors making sure I haven’t lost the rest of my crew. I feel like I’ve been riding for hours, and for every second, my adrenaline has pumped fast and hard the whole way. Taking the next turn, we head down a beaten path, causing me to slow my speed. I see fresh tracks and know we’re headed in the right direction. Continuing down the path, the old building comes into sight.

  Slowing my speed and applying the brake, I let my foot fall to the ground as I bring the bike to a complete stop. I don’t want the sound of our engines to alert them, so for now, we stay back. I signal for my men to do the same and they follow suit. Jumping from the bike, I grab my gun, wasting no time.

  “Right behind you,” Zane remarks and I hear his footsteps following me. His hand lands softly on my shoulder, pulling me to a stop. “Should we go around the back? See if there’s another way in?”

  “I don’t give a fuck which way we go in, as long as I find Tara.” Storming forward, I don’t wait for his response. I hear footsteps following me and I check over my shoulder, tipping my chin to Zane, Davo, and Matteo. Holding my gun low, I quietly step toward the door. The building doesn’t have any windows. Two huge doors span the front, with a smaller entrance door to the side. I press my back against the building just beside the door.

  “I’ll check around the back,” Davo whispers before turning and making his way around. My eyes scan the area, wondering why there is no vehicle, but tracks on the road.

  Zane stands beside me, leaning in before whispering to me. “Somethin’ ain’t right, boss.”

  “I was just thinking the same.”

  “Nate,” Davo calls and I whip my head around, trying to locate him. My eyes land on him and he has his hands in the air and a gun pointed at his head. I lift the hand that holds my gun, pointing it at the asshole with a gun to Davo’s head.

  “Put down the fucking gun,” I warn. I recognize this asshole. It’s one of the Deathseekers. “Three against one,” I add, glancing to Zane and Matteo who also have their guns drawn.

  “You really think I’d be that stupid?” he asks with a chuckle. The sound of guns cocking causes me to turn my head, glancing behind me. I exhale heavily and my shoulders drop at the sight of more Deathseekers pointing guns at us.

  I turn to face the president, Brewer. “What the fuck are you doing here? Are you protecting my father?”

  He narrows his eyes, tilting his head to the side. “Why the hell would you think he’s here?”

  “Let’s cut to the fucking chase here. I know you’re helping my father and I also know he’s been hiding out here.”

  “May want to rethink your intel, boy. They got it wrong this time.”

  “The problem between me and my father has nothing to do with you. You need to stand down. This ain’t your fight.”

  He relaxes his arm, pushing the gun inside the waist of his jeans, stepping toward me. “Well, maybe I’m making it my problem, boy.” He accentuates the word boy and my finger rests on the trigger, ready to blow this cocksucker’s brains out.

  “What's wrong, Brewer? Intimidated by someone half your age and double your IQ?”

  “You think highly of yourself don’t ya?” He lets out a snort of disgust and I can’t help but flash him a smile. As if in slow motion, I watch how his hand finds the handle of his gun and he draws it out, pointing it at me and squeezing the trigger.

  The pop echoes around the deserted area and I feel a hot sting against my ear, ducking almost instantly. He took his shot, and missed.

  My jaw tight and my teeth clenched, I launch at him, full force. I knock him to the ground, his gun falling out of his hand. Unarmed and on the ground, I rain down punches, each one hitting his aged face. Over and over my tattooed knuckles connect with his face, blood and saliva flies from his nose and mouth, mangling his face, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

  “Where is he? Tell me where the fuck Jeffries is!” I scream as my fists thud against his face.

  “ENOUGH!” the voice roars from behind me. Heavy hands are on my shoulders pulling me from Brewer’s limp body. With a fight and struggle against their hold, I manage to break free. My chest heaves and my heart pounds as I stumble back. My head spins as I try to focus on the face coming into sight, the tip of a gun barely inches from my face.

  “Hunter,” I gasp, wondering how the hell he knew where we were.

  “We need to talk.”

  “What are you all waiting for?” Brewer screeches, trying to push himself up from the ground. “Help him up while I get to the bottom of what our visitors want. Don’t worry, Dad, I got this,” Hunter throws over his shoulder, stalking to the door and holding it open. “You need to come inside,” he instructs, flicking the gun inside. I hear my men following behind me.

  “No,” Hunter says. “You guys need to stay outside.”

  Zane’s eyes widen before he focuses on me, seeking my approval.

  “I got this,” I say with a nod, Hunter closing the door behind me. As soon as it’s just the two of us, I start with the questions. “How the fuck did you know we were here?”

  “Precious told me about her little confession.” He sighs loudly, pushing his hands through his short brown hair. “But I knew they had moved on. She’s not here. They took her to an old industrial building about four miles from here, but you didn’t hear that from me, got it?” Slipping his hand inside his jeans pocket, he pulls out a piece of paper and quickly hands it to me.

  “Of course,” I say, slapping the top of his arm and stepping toward the door. “Thanks.”

  “How are you going to get out of this one?”

  I reach up touching the top of my ear that was cut when Brewer tried to shoot me. “Your father tried to kill me. He’s lucky that, right now, finding and bringing home Tara is more important than the revenge I’ll have on him.”

  “He ain’t gonna let you walk out of here,” he says, placing his hand on my chest. “Why don’t you consider offering him the narcotics deal with Harris. Sweeten him to make sure you get out of here alive.”
<
br />   I lift my head, studying Hunter for a millisecond.

  Shit.

  He’s right. We’re outnumbered and a deal with his shithead father is the only way I’m gonna make it out of here unharmed.

  “I don’t know any other way around this, man. Believe me, I’m trying to work with you here, Nate.”

  “Get the asshole in here. Let’s make this happen.”

  There’s no denying what Hunter has done for me. He’s had my back and given me the address to the location of my father. I have to go with him on this.

  “So, you’re seriously telling me, you’re happy to hand over the lucrative deal with Harris?”

  “For a cut,” I say with a lift of one brow.

  “And why the fuck should I agree to that?” Brewer’s eyes are hard on me, clearly doubtful of my intentions.

  “Because it makes good business sense. I have new ventures. Narcotics isn’t on my club’s radar any longer. But you, you could make some serious fucking money. All I’m asking for is a ten percent cut. Call it a setup fee.”

  Noisily, he blows out an exaggerated breath. “Ten fucking percent. Are you outta your goddamn mind?”

  “Take it or leave it,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. “I have plenty of others that would easily take over the deal and happily pay the cut I’m asking for.” I step up from the chair, ready to walk out, calling the fucker’s bluff.

  “Wait,” he yells after me. I’ve barely taken a few steps, but I turn to him glaring as I await his response. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Because I’m not my father.”

  “Your father is a good man. He didn’t deserve to lose his seat at the head of your table.”

  “Fuck you, asshole,” I snarl. “You know nothing about my father or the shit he’s done. Fucker would be dead if it wasn’t for you hiding him.”

  “I told you, you’re mistaken.”

  Tensing my jaw, I have to hold back the explosive anger that builds within. I want nothing more than to repeat my earlier actions. The satisfaction of my fists pounding against this liar's face courses through me, but I know I have to refrain. Getting out of here as fast as I can and straight to the new address is all that matters.

  “The fact is I’m president,” I respond calmly, holding my hands together in front of me while I tilt my head from side to side, stretching my neck. “You don’t have to fucking like it. But you need to respect it. Because it ain’t changing. Not for you. Not for my father. So all you need to decide is if you want this fucking deal or not.”

  “Well, naturally, I have to think on it. Don’t want to be too hasty.”

  “You have until tomorrow to give me your answer. If not, the deal is off the table.” Tipping my head toward the door, I instruct my men it’s time to go. But as the blood pumps through my veins all I can think of is making this cocksucker pay. Torturing him in the worst ways possible. Gouging out his eyes. Removing all of his teeth. Yeah, that would be satisfying. Watching him writhe and scream in pain. Because assholes that lie, men that manipulate, deserve nothing less. I storm out of the building and head up the path to where the bikes are parked, my whole body shaking from being stiffened for so long.

  “Boss,” Zane shouts to me. I flick a glance at him over my shoulder, but I don’t stop until I reach my bike. “What about Tara?”

  A sudden feeling of overwhelming need to hurt someone takes over and controls my actions. Turning, I grab hold of Zane’s cut, pulling him so close that our faces are just inches apart. “We fucking find her. And we don’t stop until we bring her home.” My eyes are hard, cold, and firmly fixed on my friend. He widens his eyes, nodding in agreement. Swallowing down the lump that has formed in my throat, I’m quick to release my hold on him.

  “Fuck,” I roar, swinging out my foot and kicking the tank of my bike.

  “Hey, brother. Don’t lose your head.”

  “Lose my head?” I repeat staring at Davo with a harsh squint. “We just walked into the hands of our rival MC. You know, the one that has threatened to tear us apart. The one who declared war with us.”

  “But we got out. You were smart and used our advantage to calm the storm—”

  “For now,” I bite back, wondering how long we could keep them at bay while I bring my father down. “But that ain’t important,” I snap, grabbing the helmet from the bike handle and sliding it on my head. “Finding Tara is.” Pulling out the paper, I flash it before the guys. “Let’s go get my girl.”

  Tara

  Waiting is all I could do. And listening. I strain so hard to hear snippets of their conversation, trying to work out what the hell is going on. But it’s been so long.

  So long since he left me here, cold, naked, and ashamed.

  Every time I hear an engine, or a loud bang, I jerk in fear. Wondering when he will return and how bad it will be when he finally does. But, lying here, it feels like time has stopped. Like the wait of what’s to come is more excruciatingly painful than the punishment. I fidget and squirm at the building need to pee, wondering whether there’s a way I can get someone’s attention.

  “Hey,” I yell as loudly as I can manage, pulling and rasping the binds around my hands, hoping to be heard. “HEY!” I yell even louder and then freeze, scared to move the second I can hear footsteps.

  “What?” Ozzie asks with a heavy sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I, uh, I really need to pee.”

  “Oh.” He pauses, his eyes shifting uncomfortably.

  “You need to hurry,” I prompt him, shifting as the sensation becomes painful. “Not sure I can hold on much longer.”

  “Fuck,” he grumbles stepping closer and his eyes scraping over my semi-naked body. I see the muscles in his neck twitch as he stares for a second or two too long at my breasts all on show. Leaning over me, he starts to loosen the rope. “Don’t try anything fucking stupid,” he says in a raised voice.

  “I won’t,” I assure him, pulling my arm free from the binds. My muscles ache and feel so tight that I shake my arms, trying to bring them back to life. Grimacing, I groan as I try to relieve the numb sensation.

  “This way,” he says. Grabbing my arm roughly he drags me toward the door in the corner of the empty space. Throwing the door open, he pushes me inside. I stumble forward but steady myself by resting my hand against the cold, metallic wall. I turn, placing my hand on the door, attempting to close it.

  “I don’t think so,” he remarks with a stomach-curling smirk. “Door stays open.” I let out a long exhale, but realize I don’t have a choice. I take small steps, backing up toward the toilet before slowly sliding down against the seat. Using my hands, I try to cover myself, but his direct, probing eyes watch my every movement and feel like they’re burning a hole in my skin.

  I pee for what feels like the longest time before grabbing toilet paper and wiping discreetly. I stand grabbing the material of my top, trying to cover my exposed breasts.

  “No need to be shy, darlin’,” he remarks slimily. Glaring at him, I hit the flush and step toward the closet-sized sink, washing my hands. The water against my tingling hands is a welcome feeling. “Hurry up,” he snaps, checking behind him to make sure no one is coming. It’s in that single moment that I realize he’s doubting whether he’s done the right thing. He grips the top of my arm, digging his harsh nails into my skin, almost painfully. I allow him to take me back over to the bed and reapply the binds around my wrists.

  “Thank you,” I say, my voice shaky.

  His mouth tightens and he stares down at me but doesn’t reply. Once the ropes are back in place, he turns, walking away and out of the room. I allow my head to fall to the side, burying my face into the soft skin on my upper arm. My chin trembles as I try to fight back the urge to cry. I won’t allow myself to show how I’m feeling on the inside. Staying strong is all I have left. It’s the small amount of control I have over this whole goddamn situation.

  I lie there, unable to move and waiting for something
to happen. Drifting in and out of sleep, my stomach tightens and contracts as it growls loudly, protesting at the lack of food. I need food. And maybe playing the baby card will help persuade him to feed me.

  The sound of the metal stairs vibrating and creaking as someone approaches puts me on high alert. Lifting my head, I look and wait for someone to appear. A shudder wracks through me as Jeffries appears at the top, his hard eyes glaring at me.

  “Tara,” he addresses me, wearing a grin that causes my empty stomach to roll. Making his way over to me, his boots thud against the floor, the sound echoing through the industrial building. Stopping beside the bed, he drops down heavily. Instantly, I move away, trying to put some space between me and this asshole. I can’t help but notice small blood stains and bruises on his face.

  Lifting his hand, I turn my head away, clasping my eyes shut. His rough hand grazes over my chest, coming to a stop at my waist. I grimace at the feel of his fingers digging into me. “You really despise me, don’t you?” He asks the question like it’s a fact he’s proud of.

  Slowly opening my eyes, I turn to face him. “This isn’t some sort of game, you know! This is my life. Why? Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Because I can. But I realized something today, Tara. You can’t be manipulated. No matter what the consequences, you don’t allow yourself to give in.”

  “Why should I?” I spit back. “What? You want me to roll over and play dead?”

  Ignoring me he leans over, continuing. “Hurting you was never part of the deal I made with Carter. Yes, I wanted you for myself, but I’ve accepted that won’t ever happen.” Removing his painful grip, he starts to roll up the sleeve on his checked shirt. “I’m going to enjoy hurting you, Tara. Even if it was never part of the plan.”