by Nicole Fox
“Marion and Virgil talked. A lot. While we were there,” Dean started, looking uncertain. He danced in his chair like Mexican jumping bean. “They talked about something called a cartel.”
I could feel the ire rising in my belly, but I ignored it. “Go on,” I growled, fighting to keep my voice even.
“She said it was bad, and Virgil agreed with her. He wanted to make you talk. He wanted Marion to talk you into going and talking. Talking about getting rid of the cartel and pushing Lyman out of power.” He scrunched up his face, as if trying to recall all of the details. “Marion thought you wouldn’t listen, but she said she would do whatever she had to try and make you listen.”
Jade didn’t look surprised in the least, but this news hit me like a ton of bricks to the stomach. “She did what?” I took a deep breath, unable to believe the words coming out of my son’s mouth. “Okay, start from the beginning, Dean. What did they say?”
So he told us every detail he could remember. His memory was good, especially when he was allowed to bounce around like he was on a sugar high. I sat back in awe as he relayed the details, unable to believe it. Marion, the most spineless woman I’ve ever met, is trying to arrange a sit down with two clubs. Unbelievable.
She was not only standing up to me, to Virgil, and our respective clubs, but also to Cara and Lyman, which took some serious balls. I couldn’t even begin to imagine where she’d gotten that much spine. “And she said that even if you would listen, you wouldn’t come for her so it didn’t matter.” Dean wrinkled up his nose. “Is that true? Will you not rescue her?”
Jade patted Dean’s hand with her old, weathered ones. She had a sad smile on her face, and she didn’t say a word. That seemed to be answer enough for Dean. He put his head down, but I could still see him crying through the chocolate-colored waves of his hair.
“So what’s going to happen to her?” Dean sniffled, trying hard to swallow his tears.
That gaping hole in my chest was growing wider.
Jade bit her lip. “Hopefully, Virgil will keep his word and send her on her way.”
I made a noise in the back of my throat that sounded a little like despair. Neither Jade nor Dean even looked up at me.
Suddenly a hush fell over the Horns. All of the construction work stopped at once, like someone pulled a switch. I glanced behind me, trying to see what had caused the sudden halt in work.
Lyman was standing in the middle of the room, his eyes wide and his hands outstretched like a praying fanatic. In that moment, he looked more like a televangelist than a club leader, and I shivered at the sight. If Lyman was this happy, it was nothing good.
“The next phase of our plan is upon us!” he said, his deep voice booming through the whole Horns. Cara curled around him like a snake, a wicked smile on her painted lips. I wanted to pick that woman up and toss her out on her ass. “The cartel will be sending in the shipment of--”
But I was no longer listening. Marion was right. As much as I hate to admit it, Virgil was right, too. I need to stop this. The Heaven’s Horns will continue to suffer under Lyman’s cartel deals until I do something about it.
And the first step was getting Marion back. I was done listening to Lyman, done following his orders like a puppet. It was time to not only stand up for me but for everyone else the Horns, too.
As Lyman finished up his fervent speech, extolling the virtues of the cartel and of Cara herself, I glanced around at all of the faces. Most just looked resigned, some tired, and ever fewer openly hostile. And yet, no one was going to do anything about it. It was infuriating; if most of us disagreed with Lyman’s idiocy, why were we all still going along with it?
“Tank, I need to borrow that car.”
My friend looked at me sideways as I walked over to him. He eyed me like he wasn’t sure what I would want a vehicle for. “If you’re planning on driving it over a cliff, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t. It’s not insured.”
“I’m not going to drive it over a cliff. I just need it for an hour or so. I’ll be right back.”
Tank handed me the keys with obvious reluctance. “You want me to come with you?”
I shook my head. “I think this is something I have to do on my own.”
“And what exactly are you planning on doing?” Tank asked. He was staring at me so intently.
Tank was my closest, perhaps only, friend. Maybe he deserved an explanation. I took a deep breath, glancing around to make sure no one was in easy hearing distance. Even still, I lowered my voice. “I’m going to stop Lyman’s cartel madness and get our lives put back together. But first, there’s something I need to go pick up.”
Tank’s eyes widened. “You mean Marion.”
I just nodded. Something about hearing her name made my throat tighten. I didn’t want to think about that, either. “Yes, I’m going to get Marion.”
“But the Boss said--”
I leaned closer, taking Tank by the collar of his shirt. “I don’t think I care anymore about what the Boss has said.”
While Lyman and Cara were still in the center of the room, most likely basking in imaginary admiration or worship, I approached them. I could feel the eyes of everyone around me following as I walked to the center of the room.
It took a few moments for Lyman to notice my presence. A frown appeared on his aging face, the mad light in his eyes dimming ever so slightly. “Yes, Colton?” he said acknowledging my presence and giving me permission to speak. Cara turned her gaze on me, her eyes full of all sorts of promises I didn’t want her to keep.
I straightened my shoulders and looked Lyman right in the face. “I am claiming Marion Butler as my woman, and therefore a part of the Horns.”
A wall of anger slammed down over Lyman’s face, the rest of his mad glee fading in the light of this new development. “You’re doing what?”
“Marion is now my woman and is part of the Horns,” I repeated, watching Cara’s face shift from anger to sadness to something far darker and back again. “She is still being held by the Shadow Cave, and I’m going to go get her and bring her home.”
Lyman winced at the word “home.” “And what makes you think--”
But I had already turned away. I’d spun on my heel the moment the words were out of my mouth, heading for the exit. I didn’t wait to be dismissed, didn’t wait for Lyman to acknowledge my choice.
And as I walked away, I could feel the surge of rage pointed at my back.
But it was too late to turn back.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Marion
So I was right after all. I listened as the noise of the invasion drifted away, leaving the groans of the injured and the orders of those trying to put the clubhouse back together. Virgil and I stood on top of a catwalk, walking as the men started on rebuilding and healing.
“You let Colton just waltz in here. Why didn’t you talk to him?” The question sounded incredibly naive, even to me, but I couldn’t seem to help asking.
Virgil nodded, his eyes locked on everyone down below. “Yes. I was hoping-- Well, I suppose I hoped for too much. It seems that Colton will not stand up to Lyman. I wonder if that means there is no hope left for us.”
I swallowed, my eyes tracing the outlines of the men and women down below. There was a lot of blood, too much blood. I wondered if anyone had died during the assault. Or if anyone would die soon from their wounds. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t worth anything to you, or the Heaven’s Horns. Or the city.” Or to Colton. That thought stung like a bee. I couldn’t seem to breathe around the idea that Colton had left me, for all he knew, to die alone with these people. Or worse.
“It is not your fault, Ms. Marion. I misunderstood my enemy. And that was my fault. Perhaps--” But his voice faded off, and he never finished his thought.
“Will you send me away?”
“I did promise, did I not?” he answered, his eyes staring through the ceiling into whatever thoughts clouded his mind. “And so you shall.”
&nbs
p; “I’d like to stay for a day or two and help out; I’m pretty good with bandages and minor injuries.” I looked down at my hands. Not six months ago, these fingers were manicured, the nails long and shaped. But that seemed like a whole lifetime ago. Between work at the diner and all of the damage they had taken over the last 24 hours, I had the hands of my grandfather. He was a carpenter, and I remembered almost nothing about him, except for how rough his hands were.
Virgil’ empty eyes narrowed at me, suspicious. “And why would want to do that?”
“I feel as though some of this is my fault. I should have tried harder. Should have done something differently.”
Virgil nodded. “Perhaps. You can stay if you like, just so long as you don’t leave the building. You are much stronger than you look.” He stood up a little straighter, turning on the catwalk to walk back towards his office. I watched him for a moment before turning the other direction to head back to down to the ground floor. “You surprised me, Ms. Marion. And I am not often surprised.”
Tending to the sick was just as difficult as it had been at the Horns. I felt like I was back there, looking into every face I tended for a familiar feature. I knew none of these men, but all of their faces seemed familiar. Perhaps it was the universal expressions of pain and hopelessness that all of the injured shared.
Perhaps I was just trying to come up with ways to distract myself from my thoughts.
But no matter what I did, they echoed inside of my brain like a mantra. Colton didn’t want you. Colton didn’t want you. Colton didn’t…
I hadn’t expected him to rescue me, but I didn’t realize how desperately I’d hoped to be wrong.
So I bandaged and taped, mopped up blood, and held hands. I held buckets of water and held crying women. I watched men drift into pained sleep and wondered if they would ever wake again. The Carrion didn’t even question who I was. All they knew was that I was helping, and that was all that seemed to matter to them.
My old guard, the one Virgil had bloodied for threatening me, was there on the clubhouse floor. He groaned with his injuries. His eye was still swollen, his lip still split, but he’d added a few new injuries to his repertoire. A long gash snaked down his side, another on his left arm. I contemplated skipping over him considering how he treated me but changed my mind. I was no saint, but I wouldn’t skip over a person in need. I’d been in need too many times to count, and no one had ever been around to help. I didn’t want anyone, even an asshole rapist with no morals to speak of, to suffer completely alone.
So I tended his wounds. They really needed stitches, but I had none. I made do with what was available to me. “What’s your name, soldier?” I asked, but received no response. In fact, he didn’t respond to any of my questions. But I kept talking anyway. Talking kept the madness away.
“You look like you took a nasty fall; does this hurt? Can you feel pain here? No?” I pressed into his stomach gently, wincing in empathetic pain. “I think you broke a rib, my friend. You’ll need bed rest and some tight bandages around your chest and stomach.”
“Why are you helping me?” he whispered finally, unable to keep his peace any longer.
“Because you need help,” I answered, helping him to sit up as I wrapped the bandage as tightly as I could around his rib. He winced but didn’t complain. “You’re doing great.” After I got him wound up, I laid him back down. “Now you stay in bed for a couple of weeks while that heals; doctor’s orders.”
He chuckled weakly, even though it hurt. “Thanks, doc. For everything.”
I felt a little like a fraud, helping here. But I kept at it anyway. It made me feel like I could do something that was worth doing. And it also kept my thoughts busy.
Some of the time.
Still, I felt like an idiot. Who could be dumb enough to fall for Colton Sears? He was a promised heartbreak from the very beginning. He’d never even been kind to me. Not once. Everything pointed to him not caring about me at all. I felt used, stupid, and dirty. Very, very stupid.
I felt worse because after everything, I still wanted him to come get me.
I was happy that Virgil was kicking me out of town. I was pretty sure there was exactly nothing left for me, here. My shop was gone. Without Dean and Jade, I didn’t have any friends either. So what did it matter what city I found myself? I would be starting over new regardless. It might as well be in a place where I don’t have bad memories waiting for me around every corner.
My father had always had a soft spot for our little city; he’d grown up here, met my mother here. His parents lived here and died here. My mother died in childbirth here, and he died in a car accident here. None of them ever left.
I’d even been born and raised here. I went to school here and became an orphan here. But that didn’t mean I had to stick around after his death. In fact, he would have been the first person to tell me to head out if I wasn’t happy here.
Perhaps away from the memories of Jessa and Colton, I could be happy. Eventually.
Caught up in my thoughts, I barely noticed the sudden rush of whispers. The chatter got louder and louder, until I could no longer ignore it. Something was happening, and no one knew what to do about it. I glanced around, trying to see what all of the fuss was about.
Much to my surprise, it was Colton, standing in the middle of the hall like he owned it. “I am here for Marion Butler, and I’m not leaving without her!” I gaped at him, unable to believe my eyes. Perhaps I was hallucinating…
My heart swelled up inside my breast until I thought I might burst. My limbs felt like they were made from rubber, and my voice vanished without a trace. Static filled the space between my ears, and I could no longer think. All I could do was stare. Colton. Colton is here. For me.
Suddenly Virgil was by my side, his hand locked around my elbow. “It seems I have won our bet after all, Ms. Marion.” He was smiling, a real, genuine smile.
And for once I returned it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Colton
If anyone so much as looks at me funny, I’m going to kill everyone in this room. A combination of rage and something darker filled me up, and I was ready to burst. Lucky for the Carrion, they all just stared at me, waiting for something to happen. No one moved, no one seemed to even breathe. They just watched me with wary, worried eyes.
“Did you hear me? I demand you return my woman to me!” I shouted, my voice echoing off of the rafters. It was so silent inside of this place that everyone could hear me. So if everyone could hear, why wasn’t Marion answering?
Virgil stepped forward, materializing out of the crowd like a specter, his hand wrapped firmly around Marion’s elbow. “Here is your woman, Colton. You may take her back to the Horns.”
“So easily?” I asked, skeptical.
“So easily,” he answered smoothly, pushing Marion toward me. She looked a little worse for wear, but she seemed to be healthy enough. Her hands and wrists were still wrapped in bandages, but she was otherwise uninjured. My eyes roved her body like starving man would devour a feast. Every time I saw her, it was like a blow. It was like I forgot how beautiful and perfect she was between every viewing.
But it would never happen again because I never intended to let her out of my sight again. I didn’t care if she was weak or useless. I wanted her, and I would take her. She was mine.
Marion watched me uncertainly, fidgeting with her bandaged fingers as she stepped forward. “What do you want, Colton?”
“I want you to come home with me.”
She looked shocked, then uncertain. The Carrion whispered behind her, but all of them were still and quiet. No one attacked, no one even breathed too loudly.
“We wanted to talk for a moment before you take Marion back to the Horns,” Virgil said, carefully, stepping between Marion and me. I almost lunged for him; I wanted to choke the life from him for touching her so casually. How dare he? Didn’t he just hear me say that Marion was my woman?
My hands flexed, wishing they
were around his snotty little throat. “I’m not talking to you. Let her go.”
Marion cleared her throat, her eyes lighting up as she shook Virgil’ hand from her elbow. “Colton, I think you should listen to them. I--” Marion took a step forward.
But I was having none of it. “No; we’re going back to the Horns. Now.”
“But Colton--”
Stepping forward, I grabbed onto Marion’s hands, pulling her into my arms. Despite her protests, I lifted her off of the ground, throwing her unceremoniously over my shoulder. She squealed in terror and humiliation, but I ignored her. No, I was done with being argued with for the day. We were going home. We’d sort out all of this cartel talks later.
I had something far more important on my mind.
