by Susan Stoker
She turned to the scum of humanity who was standing amongst his henchmen smirking. “And you, fucking Hispanic jerk. You can’t have her either. If you want your cock sucked, I’ll do it. I’m better than she is! She’s a fucking prude. Her own husband didn’t want to fuck her, he kept his real love on the side and couldn’t wait to fucking divorce her ass so he could be with her. Hell, Mickie probably called the cops before she even got here! She hates this MC. She hates you,” Angel said, looking at Ransom. She turned back to Chico Malo, “And she doesn’t even know you, but she probably hates you too.”
Cruz swore under his breath. This was quickly getting out of control. The only thing he knew was that he wasn’t going to hand Mickie over to fucking Ransom or a Mexican drug lord. He’d have to kill them first. His mind whirred with every scenario he could think of to get them out of this.
“You can’t control your women very well, Ransom. This is the example you show me of high-class pussy?” Chico Malo growled, clearly annoyed at Angel’s words, and Cruz’s refusal to hand over the woman of his choice.
“I’ll deal with this, Chico, no worries. Give me a second.” Ransom stepped close to the still-fuming Angel. She smiled nastily, obviously thinking she’d won and had gotten what she wanted.
Ransom reached into the back of his jeans and pulled out a large knife. Without a word, he pulled the sharp blade across her neck from ear to ear, with a slow, methodical swipe.
Angel made one startled gurgling noise, then fell heavily to the floor.
Cruz spun Mickie around so that she was facing the wall as she gasped in shock. He stood next to her, holding her tightly with his left hand and partially blocking her with his body. He quickly growled, “Whatever the fuck happens, do not turn around. You got me, Mickie? I’ll protect you, but you stay right here and don’t watch.”
“Angel—”
“You can’t do anything for her right now. We’ll be lucky if we get out of here in one piece.”
Cruz didn’t wait for her agreement, but turned his attention back to the clusterfuck happening right in front of him.
Angel twitched a couple of times on the ground as the pool of blood around her grew larger and larger. The men standing around were laughing as her body convulsed on the floor at their feet.
“Very nice, Ransom. Didn’t think you had it in you.” Chico Malo grinned. “Maybe this partnership will work out after all.”
“Feel free to fuck her if you want…her pussy’ll be warm for at least another thirty minutes.”
It was as if Ransom’s words broke through whatever spell was on Angel’s friends. They suddenly completely freaked out, jumping away from the hands of the MC members who had been holding them and shrieking at the vision of their friend dying on the floor and bleeding out.
Ransom was yelling at his club members to control them while Chico Malo’s goons looked on with humor, enjoying the chaos that had erupted around them.
Through the shrieking and crying of Angel’s friends, Cruz heard Ransom call out, “Bring the fucking sister over here, Bubba. Now.”
Cruz could feel Mickie trembling as she huddled against the wall. No way in fuck was Bubba, or anyone, getting their hands on his woman.
Just as the thought went through his head and Cruz readied to fight Bubba for Mickie, all hell broke loose in the room.
Flashbang grenades went off all around them, and even though Cruz had training on how to lessen the effects of them, his ears rang and his vision went dark from the unexpected explosions. He leaned against Mickie, covering her ears with his hands and crowding her, trying to cover her as much as he could.
The cavalry had finally arrived.
Cruz didn’t relax. Even though Dax and the FBI task force had finally made their entrance, he and Mickie still weren’t safe. Ransom and Bubba were gunning for Mickie, and probably him too, now that he’d refused to give her up. The MC members had knives and most likely a stash of illegal weapons. The Mexican drug lords obviously didn’t want to get caught either, and they were certainly armed to the teeth.
“Crouch down, sweetness. Come on, that’s it.” Cruz urged Mickie to get as low to the ground as possible. He knew she probably couldn’t hear him because of the loud percussion of the flashbang grenades, and was most likely in shock with what she’d seen and what was going on around them now.
He knelt with her and engulfed her in his arms, protecting her as best he could. It killed him not to be out in the fray, helping his friends and brothers in arms ferret out the bad guys and keep them contained, but at the moment all he could think about was Mickie, and keeping her safe. Now that Ransom knew she was Angel’s sister, who knew what he’d do to get to her.
There were gunshots and shouts all around them. Cruz knew if they didn’t get struck by a stray bullet, it’d be a miracle. He kept his arms around Mickie even as he put his hand on her head to push it farther down, to make her as small a target as possible. He literally put himself between her and the bullets that were flying around the room in the chaos.
When the commotion died down a bit, Cruz took stock, trying to get his bearings. There were several MC members on the ground with their hands on their heads being guarded by officers in riot gear. The women in the room, in various stages of undress, were being herded to a corner. The old ladies right along with the naked strippers and whores.
Most of Chico Malo’s men were lying on the ground bleeding. Chico Malo himself was lying motionless on the floor with a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.
Fuck. The FBI had wanted to take him alive. Cruz had no idea how he’d been killed, but his death would set off a power struggle in the drug world, most likely on both sides of the border, the likes of which hadn’t been seen in quite a while.
Cruz could see three officers lying on the ground bleeding as well. Dammit. Although casualties were usually in the back of every police officer’s mind, it was always a dark day when it actually happened. Cruz was relieved none of the injured men were Dax or Quint or anyone else he knew.
He looked around the room again—but didn’t see Ransom anywhere.
It seemed quiet enough over where Angel’s friends were all huddled together, sobbing. There were no MC members around them, but there weren’t any officers with them either. It was a crap shoot on whether Mickie would be safe with them, but he didn’t have many options at the moment. Cruz put his hand on her head and leaned close. “Go over to the other women. I’ll be back.” Before letting go, he took her chin in his hand and brought her lips to his. He kissed her once more, regretting everything that had happened.
Finally, without another word and ignoring the pleading look in her eyes, Cruz helped Mickie stand and gave her a slight push in the right direction. She took a stumbling step, then another, before she gathered her strength and headed straight for the relative safety of the group of Angel’s friends, crying in each other’s arms.
Cruz headed purposefully for the backrooms of the clubhouse, ignoring the shout for him to stop from one of the officers. The officer was either playing his part well in keeping Cruz’s undercover status intact, or he honestly had no idea who Cruz was in the chaos of the raid. He didn’t have time to stop and figure it out now.
Ransom knew the warehouse like the back of his hand. There was no way, after everything that had happened and everything he’d done, Cruz was going to let him get away. Not now, no fucking way. He knew right where Ransom would be holed up.
It was time to show the president who was really in charge.
Chapter Eighteen
Cruz prowled down the hall behind the big open room of the warehouse, intent on finding and killing Ransom. The hell with his oath to protect and serve. The man had murdered Angel with no second thought and had threatened Mickie. Mickie would never be safe if Ransom got away. He knew who she was and he’d come after her. Cruz had no plan in mind other than making sure the man paid for what he’d done and could never hurt what Cruz now thought of as his.
This showdown would be between Ransom and him.
“You can come out, Ransom, it’s just you and me.” Cruz waited, knowing the man wouldn’t be able to stay in hiding. He was pissed off and had something to prove.
Within moments, Ransom pushed the heavy panel in the floor back and climbed out of the panic room he’d built into the office floor. Not expecting it, but not entirely surprised, Cruz watched as Bubba also appeared out of the hidden room. Bubba being there would make the fight a bit lopsided, but Cruz wasn’t backing down now. He was ready and willing to take them both on.
“Hiding like a girl, huh? Figures,” Cruz taunted.
“You’re a pig, aren’t you?” Ransom correctly guessed. “I should’ve known; you’re too fucking pretty to be a real man. Mall cop my ass.”
“Took you long enough to figure it out, asshole, but whoops, guess not quick enough I’d say, wouldn’t you?”
Bubba growled. “Let me fucking stick him, Ransom.”
Ransom held up his hand. “I don’t think so. He wants a fight? He’ll get one.”
Cruz nodded. “You think you’re so fucking smart, but your downfall was Chico Malo. Axel knew you were in over your head, he sung like a canary the second he was faced with jail time.” Seeing Ransom look at him in surprise, Cruz smirked. “Yeah, we got Axel. He knew Chico Malo would never let him live after he’d been arrested. He wasn’t scared of you at all, a small-time, wannabe MC president.”
Cruz could see the vein in the side of Ransom’s neck throbbing, but he continued, knowing he was getting to the man. “You just couldn’t be satisfied with owning the drug market on this side of the city, could you? Your strip club, whores, old ladies…none of it was enough. You were too greedy, Ransom. Once you crossed the line to Angel and her friends, you were done for, you just didn’t realize it.”
“Angel was a fucking whore, just like all the rest. She took what I gave her and was glad for it. A whore’s a whore, even if she’s wearing nice clothes. Just like her sister. But Mickie cleans up well, doesn’t she? All tits and ass. Guess I was wrong about her being a muffer, wasn’t I?”
Cruz refused to rise to Ransom’s bait. “You’re done, Ransom. You think anyone’s gonna do business with you ever again? Your name’s been reduced to shit. The second you step foot outside this clubhouse you’ll be a giant target for every Mexican drug lord, not to mention your local rivals as well. You’re finished.”
“I had it all and you fucked it up!” Ransom yelled, finally losing his cool. “Loyalty to One. That One is fucking me! I was gonna rule this town and you fucked it up. You’re gonna pay, Smoke! You’re gonna fucking pay!”
“Come on then.” Cruz egged Ransom on. It might not be professional, but he’d had enough of this asshole. Cruz felt as if he’d somehow allowed Mickie’s sister to be killed. He didn’t protect her and he couldn’t bring her back now. He hadn’t saved her, just as he hadn’t saved Sophie. Oh, his ex wasn’t dead, but she might as well be.
On top of that, Cruz knew Mickie would never forgive him. After what she’d seen and what Cruz had said to her, about her, that night. He might have lost the best thing that ever happened to him. If he could take down one more drug dealer in the process, all the better.
Ransom leaped forward, a knife materializing in his hand as he attacked. Cruz grabbed the wrist that held the knife and wrestled Ransom to the ground. They flipped each other over, and as Ransom frantically tried to make contact with Cruz’s face, or neck, or anywhere, Cruz used his fist to pummel the asshole’s face, and wherever else he could get in some licks. He was gaining the upper hand, until Bubba grabbed him from behind and wrenched his arms behind his back.
Smirking, Ransom pulled himself off the ground and wiped his bleeding nose on his sleeve. He spit on the ground before turning to Cruz. “Now what’re you gonna do, asshole?” Ransom ground out, throwing his knife from one hand to the other, taunting Cruz.
When Cruz didn’t answer, but continued to fight Bubba’s hold, Ransom went on, “I’m gonna cut you, pig. Won’t kill you though. Just hurt you enough so you can’t fight back. Then I’ll disappear, but when she least expects it, I’m gonna find the fat sister and I’m gonna steal her ass away. I’m gonna tie her down and fuck her. I’ll leave her tied up and I’ll fuck her in every hole she’s got until she’s bleeding and begging me to stop. Then I’ll let Bubba fuck her. Then I’ll invite every asshole motherfucker I can find to come in and take her. Then I’ll leave her there, tied up and bleeding. But I’ll film the entire thing and send it to you, so you can watch it over and over.”
Ransom leaned in close to Cruz, who was struggling harder to get out of Bubba’s grasp. “And you’ll take your last breath knowing it was you who did it to her. Do you know why I’m called Ransom? Usually I ransom the girls off. Send videos back to their families, ask for money. And they give it. Every fucking time. It’s what I do. Bet you and your pig friends didn’t know that about me, did you?”
Ransom laughed. “Drugs aren’t how I make my money. Fuck no. The real dough is in kidnapping and collecting ransom money. But I’m not ransoming the bitch sister. I’ll send you the video, but I won’t tell you where she is. I’ll tell her you refused to give me the money I asked for to let her go. She’ll lie there, bleeding out of every orifice, dying, knowing it was you that put her there, and that you didn’t want her enough to pay to get her back.”
Ransom drew his hand back when he stopped speaking and swung the knife forward as hard as he could.
Expecting it, knowing Ransom was careless in his arrogant belief that he had him right where he wanted him, Cruz lurched to the side—just enough so the blade cleared him, sinking into Bubba’s fleshy belly instead.
Cruz easily wrenched out of Bubba’s now-lax grip and punched Ransom as hard as he could. The first punch dazed the man; the second knocked him out altogether.
He then turned to Bubba, who was on his knees holding the knife that had been in his belly. He pulled it out and made a halfhearted lunge at Cruz, but fell unconscious next to the MC president when Cruz’s boot made contact with his face.
Cruz leaned over, putting his hands on his knees and taking a deep breath. Then another. Then one more. His adrenaline was through the roof. Ransom’s words echoed through his brain and he curled his lip in disgust. How many lives had the man ruined? Cruz had always wondered why he was called Ransom, but none of the men in the club had known. His evilness was bone-deep.
He’d been able to visualize what Ransom had taunted him with. He could all too easily picture the look on Mickie’s face as she lay hurt and dying at the asshole’s hands. It’d been close. Too close. If Cruz hadn’t moved quickly enough, or if he hadn’t been able to dodge out of the way of Ransom’s knife, Mickie would’ve been right where Ransom had insinuated she’d be.
Ransom had to die, and Cruz was just the man to do it.
He’d taken a step toward the knife lying on the ground when the door behind him slammed open and Cruz spun around, ready and willing to do battle.
Realizing it was the cops, Cruz reluctantly put his hands on top of his head in surrender. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made him want to continue to fight, but these were his brothers in blue. He wouldn’t fight another police officer.
“Yeah, turn around, asshole,” the officer sneered, slamming Cruz up against the wall. As he wrenched his arms behind his back, he leaned in and whispered, “Hang tight, we’ll get you out of these as soon as we can.” Cruz was glad the large officer knew he was one of the good guys; he hadn’t been particularly gentle as he’d sent him crashing into the wall.
Cruz kept an eye on Ransom as the other agents called for medical attention for the two men. He knew it was probably too late for Bubba; Ransom had obviously hit something vital, because the blood pooling under the man was way too large for a simple stab wound. He hoped he died a slow, painful death.
Cruz was shoved back into the main room of the warehouse and he’d been docile enough, following the directions of the officers to the letter. He had no doubt Dax and the FBI would get to him eventually.
As he was led toward the door, he looked around frantically for Mickie. Where was she? Was she safe? He flexed his hands in the cuffs. Fuck, why’d he let them put the cuffs on him before he’d made sure Mickie was safe? He couldn’t help her with his hands behind his back.
Cruz’s eyes roamed from the weeping women in the corner of the room to Angel’s body…and found Mickie. She was sitting on the ground next to her sister with one hand on her arm and the other clenched tightly at her side. She looked up as they went by and Cruz could see the tracks her tears had left on her cheeks. Her mascara had run down her face, but it was the look Mickie gave him as he passed that nearly made his knees buckle under him.
Devastation. Emptiness. Despair. Her emotions battered him as if she’d physically assaulted him.
“Keep moving, asshole,” the officer griped, playing his part to the hilt, not understanding the gut-check Cruz had just been dealt.
Cruz looked away from Mickie, devastated. He’d done that to her. He’d failed her, just as he’d failed Sophie. Just as he’d failed Angel. He couldn’t help any of them now. As much as he wanted to take Mickie into his arms and comfort her, he not only didn’t have the right, but he was physically unable.
Cruz stumbled once and managed to right himself as the finality hit him. He’d never have another chance to sit next to Mickie and watch her eat. He’d never smell her again, never feel her hand clasp his as they walked. Never see her laugh as she sat next to him when they watched movies. Never read a text from her again. Never look down at her beautiful face as her warm, wet folds engulfed him.
The officer opened the back door of a cop car and roughly pushed him in. As the door slammed, locking him inside, Cruz turned his head and looked out the window of the cruiser.
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