CONTROL: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Blackened Souls MC)

by Naomi West

  “—gonna clean up that carnage!” the man, Darren, was saying now. He coughed a little, rubbing the potbelly half covered by a stained Texas A&M shirt.

  “What’s that?” Katrin asked, immediately alert.

  “Girl, don’t tell me you ain’t heard!” He slapped the wheel. “You ain’t got a TV? Ain’t watched the news? What?”

  “Uh, yeah, actually, I don’t have a TV.” she said, heart beating fast. “What happened?”

  “I was saying, they found a body out in the desert last night. It had been dragged off by coyotes, but what was left of it was filled with bullet holes. And they think there’s more where that came from. Some kinda gang shootout, they think.”

  “Oh my,” Katrin said, not quite able to feign surprise. “Do they know who’s involved?”

  “Oh, they got their suspicions.” He wiped his brow. “You heard about these motorcycle gangs around here? Rialto’s full of ‘em. Bunch of ’em across the border too. Big gangs of tattooed guys on bikes.”

  “Mm. I’ve heard about it.”

  He busted up laughing. “Don’t seem like the crowd you run with, huh?”

  You have no idea.

  “You just gotta stay out of their way,” Darren said. “They’re pretty live and let live, from what I understand, but you don’t wanna cross them.”

  No shit.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Katrin said drily.

  They were approaching Pete’s Goods. Katrin glanced at it as they passed, wondering if Rex was in there. If Rex was still helping her dad with the drug business, or if her dad had decided Rex was expendable, just like all of Pistol’s brothers. How many people had her father killed, or ordered killed? Katrin couldn’t bear to think about it.

  Am I ready? To see him again? To help get rid of him once and for all.

  Her gut roiled slightly, but for the most part, she was calm.

  They crossed the town, Darren still going on about gangs. When they reached the sparsely populated area on the outskirts near her dad’s house, she said to Darren, “You can let me out here.”

  “Out here? Ain’t nothin’ out here!” He chuckled, scratching his belly again. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “You live somewhere around here?”

  “Not exactly.” The truck had slowed to a stop. She opened the door and hopped out. “Thank you, Darren. You’ve been a huge help.”

  Darren gazed at her like he couldn’t quite figure her out. “All right, young lady. You stay out of trouble.”

  “Will do.” She shoved the truck door shut. Daryl waved in the rearview as he pulled away.

  Katrin straightened her jacket.

  All right. Time to fight.

  She started walking.

  ###

  Pistol charged through the mess and the rubble, gun raised. He took out a couple more goons, who were flapping around like headless chickens, trying to figure out who’d just tried to blow up the fucking house. One of them was Diaz — ah, poor Diaz. Pistol hurried on through the house, searching for Smith.

  He was almost too startled to react when he rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw Leonard limping across the decimated tile. Leonard turned and tried to fire at Pistol, but Pistol was faster, firing round after round at Smith. Smith ducked behind the counter, popping up every few seconds like a damn whack-a-mole to take a shot. Pistol charged at the counter, in no mood to play games.

  But as he reached Smith’s hiding place, something crashed hard into his shin, nearly bringing him down on one knee. Smith had thrown a fucking glass mixing bowl at him. The Pyrex was heavy as shit, and his shin blazed with pain. Smith used that moment to race out from behind the counter — faster than Pistol would have thought possible for an old guy, and bolt out the back door.

  Shit. The hostages.

  Pistol stumbled forward, bursting out the back door after Smith. He had his gun level, ready to blow a hundred holes right through that fucker’s head … when he saw Smith standing with his pistol pressed to Kong’s temple.

  “Drop the gun, Jax,” Smith said smoothly.

  Pistol hesitated.

  “Let’s not go through all this again.” Smith smiled almost sadly. “Surely you remember what happened last time you found yourself in a similar predicament? With … who was it, your friend Deion?”

  Rage flared in Pistol at the mention of Deion.

  Smith pinched the end of his tongue between his teeth. “You ended up doing exactly as I said, like a good boy, because you knew how dire the consequences would be if you didn’t.”

  Pistol didn’t lower his gun. “I’m through playing your game. This ends now, you asshole.”

  “Yes, I suppose it does. You see, I’m about to put an end to the Blackened Souls once and for all.” He jabbed the muzzle of his pistol hard against Kong’s temple.

  Kong grunted, but made no move to look at either Pistol or Leonard.

  “That’s your super villain plan? First it was to marry your daughter off to a stranger, then it was to kill everyone in my club… Make up your mind.”

  Leonard’s grin grew broader. ‘Plan is such a strange word. Did you know it comes from the Frenchplant, meaning, plane surface? Referring to blueprints. A surface to build upon.”

  “I didn’t. Thank you, Professor Nutjob.”

  “Ah, now. No need for name-calling.” He glanced at Pistol’s weapon. “It really is time to put the gun down, Jax.” He cocked the pistol. “Unless you’d like your president to go the way of your friend. Frankly, I wouldn’t blame you if you let it happen. After all, wasn’t it this gentleman who sent your brothers to their deaths two nights ago? Some president, hmm?”

  The words hit a nerve.

  Kong looked directly at Pistoland shook his head, his meaning clear:Don’t give in. Let him kill me.

  Smith slammed the butt of the pistol into the back of Kong’s head. “No phone a friend here,” Smith said to him. “Pistol makes his own choices. Your fate rests in his hands.”

  Pistol clenched his jaw.

  No pressure, huh?

  The other Souls were shifting nervously. But no more goons were in sight, so either Pistol had killed them all, or they were showing some surprising strategic abilities and waiting for the right moment to spring.

  He met Kong’s gaze again. Jesus. Shit. No matter what the guy had done, Pistol couldn’t let him be killed. He was still Pistol’s mentor. Still the guy who’d picked Pistol up in San Antonio and given him a second chance.

  Pistol slowly lowered his semi-auto into the dirt. Still had the pistol tucked in the back of his pants. Leonard didn’t seem to have figured that out yet. He’d wait for his moment.

  “You know, I actually trynotto plan,” Leonard went on. “I much prefer to seize opportunities as they come. Like you, Pistol. Such a fortunate opportunity, when you caught my daughter’s eye. Just when I was looking for someone to take her off my hands.”

  “Yeah, that worked out well, huh?”

  “Oh, amazingly well. You see, I never cared about a grandchild, or getting to dab my eyes with a hankie at my daughter’s wedding. What I needed was her out of the way.”

  Well, that was kind of a surprise. Katrin had made it sound like her dad was baby-crazy. Literally. Pistol consoled himself with the thought that he’d make sure this man didn’t live to see his grandchild. “Jeez, why not just let her go to school. Wouldn’t that have been easier? Or, let me guess, not as much opportunity to pull your patriarchal, borderline-incest bullshit with her?”

  Leonard’s eyes blazed for a second. Fuck. Pistol’s mouth always got him in trouble. Ah well. It felt good to speak truth to Smith.

  Leonard began to speak more quickly, biting off his words. “I never intended to let your little brotherhood live for long. But I needed to secure my place in the business here, and you all were useful for a little while. Now you’ve become disposable.”

  “So that’s all you want? To be kingpin around here, or whatever the hell?”r />
  “Well, now Iam kingpin — or whatever the hell. And yes, it’s rather nice.”

  “Not yet, you’re not,” Pistol said.

  Konggave him awhat the fuck are you doing?Look.

  “You’re right.” Leonard looked down at Kong disdainfully. “There are still a few more hindrances I need to dispose of.” He jostled Kong. “You, Pedro, have been particularly helpful. A dog I didn’t even need to train; who just came to me knowing how to roll over and beg.” He yanked Kong’s gag off. “Anything you want to say to me?” He traced the muzzle of the pistol in a little circle around Kong’s temple. “C’mon! It’s your last line. Make it a good one.”

  Kong’s eyes flashed. “You won’t get away with this, Leonard. Karma is a bitch.”

  “Ah, Pedro.” Smith pressed the gun even harder against his head. “That was weak. Let’s get this maudlin Scooby Doo episode over with, shall we?”

  Pistol had to think fast. “Katrin doesn’t want you dead,” he blurted.

  Smith snapped his head away from Kong and met Pistol’s gaze. “I beg your pardon?”

  “After all you’ve done to her, she still cares about you. She says you’re the only family she has left.”

  “Well, isn’t that sweet.” Smith was trying to maintain his sneer, but Pistol saw something flicker in his gaze. This was it. The way to get to him. Through Katrin.

  But dammit, what did he say now? Hadn’t he watched enough of this hostage negotiation shit onLaw and Order to pull something out of his ass?

  “I think you care about her. In some weird, twisted way. Or you would have killed her and made it look like an accident, instead of trying to keep her safely out of the way while you did your dirty work.”

  “Well aren’t you perceptive,” Leonard fairly growled. “Where is my lovely daughter, by the way? I heard about your daring escape from my men. Even heard that she was the one up front on the bike.”

  Pistol half grinned, but without any mirth. “Bet you loved that.”

  Leonard grimaced. “I always told her to stay away from those things. They’re dangerous.”

  “So true. But you might be interested to know that Katrin’s pregnant.”

  Smith’s eyes widened slightly. “Excuse me?”

  “Your wish came true. You’re gonna be a granddaddy. How exciting, right? Cigars, balloons…”

  Smith glared. “You’re lying.” He sounded uncertain.

  “Nope. Dead serious. So you might want to consider putting the gun down.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  Pistol took a deep breath. “Because. Put a bullet through my president’s head, and I will destroy you. Put a bullet through my head, and my fucking ghost will destroy you. Either way, you’re not going to last long.”

  Smith laughed. “I do like your determination. You know, there really was something I saw in you the first time we met. I believed you truly could be a good match for my daughter. And you’re quite right, I did want to keep her safe from all this. She was getting curious about what I did and where I went. I didn’t want to have to send her the way of her mother.”

  Pistol’s chest tightened. “What?”

  “Her mother,” Smith said it casually. But it was a forced casualness. He was becoming agitated, his free hand clenching and unclenching. “Started snooping around. Asking questions — not of me; no. She asked around behind my back. Suspected I was lying to her.”

  “Well, you were,” Pistol pointed out.

  “Yes, but only to protect her,” Smithsnapped. “A sorry excuse, perhaps, but it was the same sorry excuse she used on me when I discovered she’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer and hadn’t told me.” His gun hand shook. “She was waiting for the righttime.”

  Pistol had a sick feeling that Smith was about to reveal something he wasn’t going to want to hear.

  “Sounds to me like that was her business,” Pistol said coldly.

  “Yes,” Smith mused. “And this is mine.”

  “What happened to her?” Pistol was stalling for time, trying to figure out if he could draw the pistol in his waistband and get a shot fired while Smith was distracted doing all of his “this was my master plan all along” posturing. He knew he couldn’t risk it. Smith still had the gun to Kong’s head, and was about to pop off a shot any second, by the looks of it. But what other choice was there? If he didn’t allow Kong to be a possible sacrifice, they’d all die, unless Pistol could think of something quick.

  Smith rambled on, “I didn’t want to hurt her. All I wanted was for her to stop asking questions. Stop digging in my affairs. We could have had a good life together, if she’d just left it alone. I would have taken care of her, bought her anything she wanted…”

  The sick feeling in Pistol’s gut increased. Jesus fuckingshit. “Did you kill her?”

  Smith offered a feral grin — wolflike, terrifying. “She had to be hospitalized, suddenly.” His gun hand was shaking out of control now. “She was doing better, and then, all at once…” He took a breath, his eyes red rimmed. “I couldn’t deal with that, not again. It was an impossible situation. I couldn’t stand being jerked back and forth between hope and despair. Hope, every time it looked like she’d beat the cancer, and despair each time she had to return to the hospital. But if she were to recover, she’d find out what I was up to. I decided the easiest thing to do would be to simply … let her go.”

  Oh hell no. Every time Pistol thought this bastard couldn’t get crazier, he came out with another gem that made Pistol want to puke. Kong seemed to have slipped into a sort of trance, as though he didn’t particularly care what happened from here. Time was almost up.

  “So you did?” Pistol tried to keep the contempt from his voice. Smith was losing control over himself, which could either work in Pistol’s favor, or could ruin everything. “You killed her?”

  “I had her put in a coma.” Smith’s voice was flat. “And from there, she slipped away. No pain.”

  Pistol opened his mouth to tell Smith just what a piece of shit he was, when something caught his eye.

  Jesus Christ on the fucking cross.

  Katrin stood at the edge of the yard. She wore a light blue sundress that ruffled in the breeze. Her dark hair was tangled. Her cheek still bore a scrape from her fall, and her mouth was set in a grim, determined line. He could see from the absolute fury in her eyes that she’d heard her father’s confession. Pistol’s gaze traveled down, to the large, sharp rock she held at her side.

  Pistol wanted to yell at her to run, to get the hell out of here. But he couldn’t do that. He could only watch as she crept closer, and then he had to pull his gaze away before Smith noticed he was distracted.

  But Smith wasn’t looking at Pistol. He was focused on Kong, dragging the barrel of the gun from the old man’s temple down to his throat.

  “I didn’t want to, you understand,” Smith said. “But circumstances left me no choice. Just as I had no choice but to eliminate your brothers. You would have stood in my way. Nobody has the sense to just get out of my way when they should.” He positioned the muzzle under Kong’s chin. Kong closed his eyes.

  Pistol saw Katrin approaching. She moved silently, until she was almost directly behind her father. A couple of the other Souls also seemed to be having a hard time not looking or making a sound.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Pistol said gruffly. “You’ve won. You outnumber us. You could let us go. We’d leave town; you have my word.”

  “No.” Smith smiled slightly, still looking at Kong. He turned to Pistol. “No. You see, you’re the sort of man who wants reparations when he’s been wronged. I knew this about you, Pistol. It’s why I waited for you to come find me here. I knew you’d come. To avenge the deaths of your men.” He was shaking badly, but he looked oddly euphoric, as though he’d reached a moment he’d been waiting for. “I also knew you’d do anything to keep the survivors alive.”

  Behind him, Katrin raised the rock.

  Pistol’s heart p
ounded wildly.God, Katrin, please let it work. Please.

  Smith noticed that Pistol’s gaze had flicked away. He started to turn, but it was too late. Katrin brought the rock smashing hard into the back of her father’s head.

  Smith’s eyes widened for a moment. Then he collapsed forward onto his knees. Pistol could see the dark patch in his silvering hair — blood and flecks of skull. Katrin smashed the rock down again, this time into Power’s temple. The gun fell from the man’s hand, and Pistol whipped out his own revolver and fired two bullets into Leonard Smith’s mangled head.

  The man’s body jerked, then went still. Rhino whooped through his gag.