Rico’s Way

by Joy Blood

  "You better be ready. He’ll kill you all." My words only receive more laughter.

  "Not if he wants your pretty little face intact." His hand goes behind his back to produce a knife before he moves closer—close enough I can smell his stale breath wafting over my face. The cold tip of his knife drags along my cheek, then circles around my bottom lip. "Would be a shame to cut up this pretty face of yours just because you couldn’t keep that smart mouth shut." Spit lands on my face, and I jerk back from his knife. "You just sit tight, kitten," he coos, rising up once again and sheathing his knife behind his back as he starts to walk away. "You two watch them while I go relay our terms to the Riders. And don’t fucking kill 'em!" He walks through the big sliding barn door, two men following behind him as he goes.

  "Can you get your hands out?" Sam asks, pulling me from my death glare on the now closed door.

  "No, I don’t think so. It’s...tape. Maybe I can rip it."

  "Mine too. My arms are numb as fuck, though."

  "It’s from the blood loss. You don’t have any circulation in your limbs." I wiggle my fingers inside the duct tape cocoon, the digits feeling like worthless nubs of ice. My head snaps around, trying to find something sharp to aid in my escape. "There," I say, nodding toward a fallen beam laying not too far from me. I slither like a drunk snake over to the beam, smiling when I see it’s splintered. Rolling to my back, I maneuver myself to start rubbing my covered hands along the broken wood. The catch of small splinters digging into my wrists make me hiss, but I keep going, determined to get my hands free. I don’t get much further before the heavy barn door slides open.

  "This bitch is just itchin' for a lesson in captivity," one chuckles, as the other one stomps over to where Sam is, trying to get off the floor. The man presses his heavy boot down on Sam's chest, pinning him to the floor. "Hold him there. I'll take care of her,” the ass above me calls over to the prick above Sam.

  "Diego said not to kill them," Prick says.

  "Not going to kill her. Just going to secure her hands again. Make sure she doesn’t get away." Ass smirks as he bends down to grab me. My feet instantly kick outward, but barely connect with his knees before he jumps back to avoid my defense. "Little bitch." His boot comes down hard on my temple, thankfully not the stitched one, but it dazes me enough for him to flip me over onto my stomach before I start fighting back once again. "Sit the fuck still, bitch!" he yells, pressing my middle down onto the splintering wood.

  "Get the fuck off her!" Sam yells from somewhere far away as Ass starts tearing at my clothing, his knee shoving my legs apart.

  "Goddamn little fighter," Ass growls, the smell of his breath making my stomach roll.

  "Hey, T, I don’t think—"

  "Shut the fuck up!" Ass yells over to Prick as the chilled air bites at my now exposed behind. “You just be quiet over there, make sure the fucker on the floor stays there, and I might do the same for you when it’s your turn. Damn, this is a fine ass," he groans, using his free hand to grip my now goose-bumped flesh.

  "You do this, and Reek will tear you apart, you piece of shit!" I yell, trying once more to struggle from his grip, but my energy is dwindling. He has me pinned down too hard, and my stomach is starting to cramp from the pressure the beam is putting on it. He lets out a dry laugh and leans down to bite my shoulder.

  "Not before I tear your pussy apart," he says as the sound of a zipper going down makes itself known.

  Forming a thought beyond the point of him thrusting himself into my still healing body is pointless. I keep struggling, but it only makes him more eager to defile me. His hand comes down hard on the back of my head, causing the edges of my vision to blur as it bounces off the floor in front of me. I start to thankfully blackout, just barely hearing what sounds like gunshots before things get muffled. I can’t be certain because the world around me becomes dark and cold.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Rico

  "That weasel prick, Diego, should be holed up in a barn about ten miles from town. The house is abandoned. Perfect place to keep people you don’t want to be found," Esteban explains as we make our way to the location he claimed Ari and College would be.

  "Who the fuck are these people and why the hell do they want you?" I ask, trying to keep my mind straight so I don’t pull over and shoot this motherfucker just for being associated with the kidnapping of my girl and brother.

  "You should know the answer to that, Rico. Or should I call you Reek?"

  "Call me whatever the fuck you want, Wraith—or is it Esteban?"

  "Steven, please. Roman thought Esteban fit due to my Spanish looks." He flashes me a smile, as if this is all some big joke, then gets serious. "Esteban is nothing but a stain," he spits out, going quiet for a moment. "Pull over up here." He points to a long road with only one set of tracks imprinted in the snow. "This is it." He nods as a white van creeps toward us. "Make it look real," he says before shifting forward enough for him to wrap a rope around his wrist, securing the ends between his fingers. "Could you be a dear and get the door for me?" He shoots a smile my way, and I have to drag in a deep breath before I put a bullet in the cocky asshole's head.

  "You keep talking to me like that and there won’t be any making it look real involved. I'll just hand you over," I threaten before getting out of the truck to come face to face with Diego, I’m assuming. "You the prick who has my woman?" I shout, hand ready to pull out my gun and put a bullet between his eyes.

  "You got something for me?" I nod.

  "You give me her, and I will hand him over," I state, getting a head shake.

  "Nope, not how it works. That asshole you have in there is worth over two million. Hand him over or—oomph." Blood pours down his forehead, and he drops to the snowy ground from the sniper shot to the head.

  "Thanks, Ringer," I mutter as I make my way past Diego to situate myself in the driver seat of the van. The door to my truck opens and shuts as Esteban—now Steven, I guess—follows behind.

  "That was some Jedi shit. Where did that shot come from?" he asks, actually sounding shocked and taken off guard for the first time. When he gets into the seat across from me, I nod toward where I suspect Ringer is now packing up to move positions.

  "Got a good sniper," I explain, starting the van and backtracking over the fresh tracks leading to the rendezvous spot. "They better be in that barn," I threaten Steven as a small cluster of buildings come into view.

  "Oh, she'll be there," he promises, that fucking grin still on his face.

  Pulling up to the house, I take a quick look around before narrowing in on the barn. What I hear makes me jump into gear and start running toward the old barn, not giving a shit about being stealthy anymore. I follow the tracks leading toward the cracked open door, the sound of College yelling getting louder.

  Red is all I see when I step inside. The first asshole drops like a lead balloon as the smoke rising from the barrel of my gun drifts along the musty atmosphere of the barn. I don’t give it time to stop before the fumbling idiot once hovering over Ari stumbles to try to get away. I put a bullet in the back of his knee, and he hits the hard ground with a thud. I advance on him, putting another bullet in the opposite knee before going back to my girl. "Fucking hell, Ree," I groan, pulling her clothes back into place, then cutting her splintered hands free from the binding tape before rolling her over onto my lap. The distant sound of my brothers flooding the barn doesn’t register as I shift Ari in my arms, lift us both up, and walk out of the fucking barn, stopping at Rock's side. "Keep that son of a bitch breathing. I’m not fucking done with him yet," I growl, and take my girl right the fuck out of this place and back home.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ari

  Waking to the familiarity of my own bed almost makes me believe the past twenty-four hours were just some horrible nightmare. But I know it wasn’t. This is the second time I have come to. The first was when Rico had me in the shower to wash away the blood covering my body. After the shower, he car
ried me to the bed where Leia, the club's unofficial doctor, looked me over and gave me the okay to recover at home. My C-section incision thankfully didn’t open, though there’s a sizable bruise on my abdomen. No concussion, and the needle dick who was raping me never got the chance to get fully inside me or finish, so the chance of an STD is small. All that’s left is the mental scarring.

  Sam was right in his assessment of his gunshot wound being a through and through. Last I heard from Rico, he was recovering nicely at the clubhouse and being doted on by all the girls.

  I sit up and search the room, finding Rico sitting in the chair that belongs in Boyd's room. "What are you doing?" I ask, looking him over. His tired face smiles at me as he cradles Boyd in his arms.

  "Feeding him."

  "Well, I know that. Why is his chair in here, weirdo?" I laugh, and it makes my insides hurt. "Ouch," I huff, my hand going to my stomach.

  "Sorry, won’t make you laugh. You want him?" he asks, already standing and heading my way. Holding out my arms, he situates a now wiggling Boyd, searching for his bottle.

  "Hey, baby boy." Taking the offered bottle, I place the nipple back into his mouth.

  "Kid can eat." I smile up at Rico and start to open my mouth to speak, but he stops me. "Not now, Ree. Rest. Get better. Then we can talk about it.” He leans down to give me a quick kiss, which turns into something longer when I bring up my free hand to hold him close.

  "I love you, Reek," I whisper when he pulls back a fraction.

  "Love you too, Ree," he rasps, voice strained. He walks from the room, leaving the door open a crack. Relaxing into the pillow wall behind me, I let out a contented sigh and brush my boy's small wisps of hair to the side, stroking the softness with my knuckles.

  "We made a good looking kid." Premo's voice startles me. "Shit, sorry, babe," he says, coming closer.

  "It's fine. Just a little—"

  "Jumpy,” he finishes, looking me over with sad, concerned eyes. “God damn, Ari. I'm…" he sighs.

  "There wasn’t a thing you could have done. You were all the way in Siberia, and you still helped, you called Rico. He wouldn't have gotten here for Boyd if you hadn’t. It’s over. Everything is done, and I just want to move on. I have this little guy to look forward to." I smile and look down at my boy. "What is your plan?" I ask, still not looking up, maybe not even wanting to hear what he has to say, but needing to.

  "My plan," Premo echoes, then comes closer to my side, looking down at our son. "I don’t know much about raising kids. I’ll leave to you. Mothering him and shit. Whenever I’m here, I’ll visit him. You ever need anything, you come to me. I will help, no questions. I don’t plan on relocating. I’m the President, I can’t just up and leave my club, but when he gets older I’d like weekends when convenient, maybe more when he’s a teenager." I nod my head in understanding.

  "That sounds reasonable."

  He lets out a drawn-out breath. “At the risk of sounding like a complete asshole, he's Siberian blood, Ar. Don’t forget that. I know your family is the Riders, but your family is also me now. With that comes the club. If he decides to patch in when he’s older, he will be patching into the Siberian MC." My eyes widen at his declaration as I snap my head to face him.

  "That’s a long ways away..."

  "Know it is, just wanted to tell you right off how it is. Don’t want him calling Reek dad either." My heart squeezes in my chest.

  "Okay," I whisper.

  "I know you two are...you’re his woman and all, but I’m still Boyd's father, bottom line." He doesn’t pull a punch as he tells me his side, but he wouldn’t be Premo if he did. "You got a problem with any of that, Ar?" he asks, looking me over softly.

  "And if I did?" I ask with a forced smile.

  "Hope it doesn’t come to that, babe."

  "It won’t. We're good, man." Rico comes into the room, tall and steady, extending his hand to Premo. My heart freezes in my chest, lump wedged deep in my throat as I watch the two men stare each other down.

  "We're good, Reek," Premo says, clasping Rico's offered hand, no doubt squeezing it as hard as Rico squeezes his—two alphas showing their dominance. Men. "Well, I'll let you get some rest.” Premo takes his hand from the stronghold shake and turning back to lay a small kiss on Boyd's soft head, then my cheek, earning a growl from Rico.

  "We just came to an agreement, brother. Don’t make me kill you already," Premo laughs, pulling away from us.

  "See you later, Reek."

  "Premo, wait. Do…do you want to put him to bed?" I ask, a little hesitant, unsure he’ll want to do such a thing. The way his face lights up lets me know otherwise.

  "Would love to, ba—Ar." He smiles, taking Boyd from my arms and giving Rico a wink before walking out of the bedroom.

  "Thank you for that," I say as Premo gets out of earshot.

  "Only for you, Ree. Get some rest, I'll be—" He starts to walk away, but I stop him.

  "Will you...will you lay with me? Just for a little while. Please?" I shift to lay on my side.

  "Yeah, girl." Rico settles himself beside me on the bed. He’s stiff, hardly moving, as if he’s scared to touch me, like I might break.

  "It’s okay." I roll to face him, my body caught under the covers while he lays over them.

  "Fuck." His hand covers his face before dragging down to scratch at his unruly stubbled chin. "I failed you, Ree." His hand falls, revealing his haggard face and red-rimmed eyes. My big, bad, pigheaded biker has been crying.

  "Rico." I lean forward to press my lips to his. "I’m okay. We're okay." My hand drags along the prickles and slides up behind his neck to pull him closer so we are forehead to forehead.

  "He raped you. That slimy fucking—god damn it."

  "I can move past it, but not without you," I say, sterner this time, gripping his neck. "You have to help me," I demand, getting a slight smile from him.

  "I will. I just need to take care of something first."

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Rico

  He's strung up in the shed a few yards away from the clubhouse. Has been for three days now. Two of those three days, I paid him a visit, letting him know I’m still around, and so is he. I have no intention of extracting information from him, only his suffering. Each slice through his skin, each nail under his toenails, every scream he forces through the crumpled, dirty cloth inside his mouth makes me buzz knowing he’s dying very slowly. He begs through muffled cries for me to end his life, but I haven’t yet, content to draw this out. Today, though, after my talk with Ari, I need to put him down—need to end this, or it will just keep eating away at me. For her, I need to kill him and move the fuck on. She’s safe, and the only reminder I have of that day is the prick inside the shed.

  "Your lucky day, prick," I grumble, walking through the door and closing it behind me. The stench of blood, shit, and piss fills my nose, but I push the sick away and move toward him. His arms are stretched to the limits above his head, attached to the single beam across the ceiling. The frayed rope has dug into his wrists, leaving small trails of blood rolling down his dirty arms. Taking my knife out, I give one good slice through the rope and step back an inch to let his limp body drop to the floor with a thud. The two bullets I put in him blew out his knees, so there’s no chance of him running, or even standing. "Time to wake up." I grab the small green garden hose to spray him down before leaning over his face, where only small slits of his eyes are visible. "You're still in there," I say, taking my knife to his throat. "Not for much longer, though." I drag the blade along his stubbled skin, splitting the flesh with the sharp steel as a fresh wave of copper stench fills the stale air. His blood flows out in gushes, until he’s coughing and sputtering his last breaths.

  "Was wondering when you were going to end it," Sage says from the door. "Got more patience than I do. I would have just put a bullet in his head and been done with it." He walks farther inside, grabbing out a sheet of plastic from a tall shelf spanning one wall.

  "N
eeded to be done with it. For Ari," I clarify, standing to my feet, taking the offered sheet of plastic.

  "Need help getting him buried?" I nod and go about wrapping up the slaughtered pig in the plastic to get him transported to one of the many burial spots we have.

  When we are all done and have him loaded up in the back of the club's rust bucket, I tell one of the prospects to hose out the kill shed, hoping we won’t need it for some time.

  * * *

  "We need to decide what to do with Esteban," Rock says as I take a seat in his office. I came right back to the clubhouse after Sage, and I got rid of the body knowing Rock would sooner or later need to talk to me about Steven.

  "Guess the prick prefers Steven," I say, and Rock shrugs.

  "Whatever. Cocky prick," he mumbles in annoyance.

  "Suppose it runs in the family," I joke, earning a glare from the man.

  "Fuck off. The bastard came into my club and started barking orders. If we hadn’t needed him to find College and Ari, I would have dropped him where he stood, brother or not."

  "Where is he?"

  "Still got him locked up in one of the rooms. Got two brothers on him at all times in case he tries to escape. So far, he hasn’t tried anything. Just sitting pretty as if he’s on vacation or some shit, irritating the hell out of me," Rock grumbles, looking back over to me.

  "This might be a little off-base, but have you talked to him?" I cock a brow, and Rock scowls. "Might be something worth trying."

  "Yeah. Whatever. Now you’re starting to sound like my old lady."

  "You told Buggs about him?" He shakes his head.

  "Fuck no. Could you imagine if she got wind of this? Shit," he curses, lifting from his desk. "Come on. You are coming with me to figure out what to do with him." He jerks his head in the direction of the door, beckoning me to follow.