Sabotage: A Vigilante Justice Novel

by Kristin Harte

  To Janet

  * * *

  Thanks for letting me tag along with you to a Marine base. I’ve never forgotten it.

  Book six in the Vigilante Justice series shows the true meaning of family and friends—and brings danger straight to Main Street.

  My bike, my club colors, and my hunt for the man who killed my sister have been the center of my universe since I left the Marines, but all that changes when one light-eyed beauty comes crashing into my world. She’s not alone, though. There’s another man in her life. A little one whose loose teeth and joyous personality creep into my heart almost as fast as her snarky wit. She’s protective, independent, and downright adversarial, but all that’s not going to stop me from claiming her as mine. Something that will put a target right on her back…and her son’s.

  Keeping Mercy and Beckett out of the line of fire is my number one priority, even if the crew they need protection from is my own and the most dangerous person in their world is me.

  Sign up for Kristin Harte’s newsletter so you never miss out on anything Justice related. CLICK HERE or go to www.kristinharte.com/newsletter

  * * *

  Don’t want to deal with another newsletter but already a Bookbub subscriber? You can follow Kristin there as well so you never miss a new release!

  www.kristinharte.com/bookbub

  Chapter One

  PARRIS

  TEXT MESSAGES WERE both a blessing and a curse in my world. Two text messages over the past few months had sent my life spinning smack into Justice, Colorado, and it was another that made me want to leave the town for good.

  I’m in Sterling. Meet me in an hour, or I come to Justice.

  Nothing more needed, not when Cartel, the warlord of the Black Angels national club, was the one doing the summoning. The man had as much power as the big prez, instilled more fear, and was running my fucking life. Even at butt-crack-of-dawn o’clock.

  “Gotta go.” I rolled out of the strange bed, grabbing my jeans from the floor and pulling them on. The chick who’d taken me home with her lay on the mattress—naked, sleepy, and obviously growing cranky at my quick exit.

  “You’re not staying?”

  “Can’t.” I grabbed my jacket from the top of her chest of drawers—that hadn’t been tossed like the jeans. My colors, my club designation and nomad patch, were far too important for that. I’d busted my ass and paid my dues to be a Black Angel, and though the thrill of the life had dulled over the years, I still respected the sign of my ties to them.

  The girl—with a name I couldn’t remember—sat up, letting the sheet fall around her hips. “I was hoping for some more time with you.”

  Translation—she was hoping for a little more of the drugs she’d been given when she’d been pawned off on me. “Sorry, babe. I’m all out of snow and have no time to get you more.”

  She huffed as I headed for the front door, which didn’t exactly endear her to me. She’d been both a responsibility and a necessary evil. A chick who’d needed babysitting so Edge, the Las Vegas Black Angel club president, could focus his attention elsewhere, and a tool to help me get off. She’d used me and I’d used her right back, so this clingy shit was just that. Shit. She wasn’t anyone to me, and I wasn’t anyone at all.

  But she wasn’t giving up easily. “How will I reach you?”

  “I’ll track you down.”

  She yelled something about arrogant pricks as I walked outside, but I didn’t stick around to hear it. I had a warlord hounding my ass who would likely be taking a piece of it before our meeting was over. I didn’t need some trick’s bullshit added on to that. Besides, I had text messages making my life go sideways. Again.

  It had been a text message that had brought me to Justice, Colorado, for the first time. A short one, at that—a friend I knew from my days in the Marines wanting to know if I could help a guy out with some information on motorcycle clubs. Simple, or so I’d thought.

  It had been another message that had gotten me to come back to the Rocky Mountain Front town—not simple, that one. A note in the middle of the night saying Gage was shot and there’d been an explosion. Those two facts hadn’t gotten to me, though. I’d known who Gage was—a heavy machinery mechanic from Justice, former Navy SEAL, and one of Alder Kennard’s guard dogs. I’d met him, and while I had no ties to him, I’d been surprised the town’s battle with the Soul Suckers motorcycle club had escalated so quickly. Still, not my problem, and yet…

  That message had haunted me.

  Not the fact that Gage had been shot. Not the explosion. It had been the word hurry at the end, all in caps, that had stuck with me. That word written in that manner on a group text had led me to believe it had been a woman who’d sent it. A woman who cared about Gage. One thing with the Justice men—they were whipped over their women. Not a bad situation unless you were about to go to war against an enemy who would use anything and everything against you. Which they were. I’d seen guys in their position—rolling into battle with something precious putting a huge fucking target on your back. They always lost…big-time. The fact that the guys in Justice could lose as well hadn’t sat right with me.

  That text and how it had seemed to be following a path I’d already trod had refused to let me go, not that I’d thought there was anything I could really do to help. I’d been dealing with my own shit.

  Fate was a cruel mistress, though. One mistake on my part—and a huge overreach on the part of my so-called brothers in the Vegas Black Angels—had shoved me right back into the town that seemed to need me. And it looked like I’d be staying for a while.

  I rode out of Rock Falls and headed east, passing through Justice on my way to Sterling, Colorado. If I were the settling-down type, Justice would be the sort of place I’d want to plant my roots. Small, quiet, good people, lots of opportunities to be outdoors, and very little in the way of bullshit. Alder Kennard ran the town like a military base, something that definitely appealed. But I wasn’t settling any time soon—I’d been working for too many years to accomplish my goal, had spent the last two in a hell I hadn’t been prepared for but was finding my way through, and I wasn’t stopping until I got the answers I’d been hunting. Not even for the fucking reaper himself.

  My bike practically growled underneath me, soothing a little bit of the nervous buzz that seemed to have become my default state. Maybe nervous was the wrong word—hyperaware. There was a lot coming at me lately, a bunch of moving pieces with sharp edges and deadly consequences if I didn’t work them just right. It’d been too many years of this shit—nine years in the club, five spent behind bars, and two being a turncoat to one particular crew. Something about the Vegas Black Angels joining forces with the Soul Suckers to terrorize Justice had brought all of that down on my shoulders, adding weight to an already impossible load.

  There was no way to end the war without bloodshed—mine, my friends’, my brothers’ from the club. Maybe all of us. And it all started with this fucking warlord. Just like last time.

  Sterling sat higher in the mountains than Justice—a small town without much going on, it lay quiet and still as I rolled through. No sign of life except for a single open sign at a diner on the side of the highway. That had to be the place. I pulled in and parked my bike among the pickup trucks and SUVs scattered about in the gravel lot. Snow would be returning to the region soon—it might be time for me to think about buying a cage. A nice, used truck to cart my ass around these mountains. One with luxuries like heat.

  “Too old for this shit.” I tucked my keys into my coat pocket and headed for the door, prepping myself to come face-to-face with the man who controlled my fate on a daily basis.

  Cartel sat at
a back table with a cup of coffee in front of him, looking to all the world like another trucker on a long haul through town. I knew better, though—the man had eyes as sharp as blades and a tongue that could steal your breath. He was not to be trusted.

  “What’s up, boss?”

  Cartel turned those dark tunnels of death my way, as if he hadn’t known the second I’d pulled into the lot. “Parris. Getting comfortable in Rock Falls?”

  The town where the Vegas Black Angels chapter had set up camp…at a literal camp. “Nothing to complain about yet.”

  When the waitress came by, Cartel smiled her way and asked for a warmer before ordering me a cup of coffee and some toast. Not that I was hungry in the least.

  “So,” Cartel said once the coffee and food arrived and the waitress left us alone. “How are things really going with the crew?”

  But I knew Cartel—had been doing his dirty work for two long years. He wasn’t there to shoot the shit, and neither was I.

  “Pull them out.”

  Cartel’s lip twitched as if trying to smile. Or not to. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “You can, but you don’t want to.”

  The smile broke free, slicing across his face in a look only a pirate could pull off. “Sounds about right.”

  “These guys in Justice—they’re not rolling over for the Soul Suckers. That crew is losing men left and right, and our guys are now in the mix here. They don’t deserve to be slaughtered all because Edge decided we should be backing up his dealers.”

  “True, but he’s the boss. The rest of the men need to follow their leader.”

  “You asked for my opinion, and I gave it—”

  “And I’m dismissing it. The crew stays.”

  I really wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit. “You put me in the Las Vegas crew, told me to keep an eye on things. I’ve done that. For two years, I’ve done that. It was messed up before, but I’m telling you, Edge running things is a shitshow and a disaster waiting to happen. Especially since you’ve got him calling the shots for other houses as well. I’ve been with the Vegas group every day. I know how twisted he is.”

  “The crew picked him for prez.”

  “The crew didn’t know the whole story. Besides, he’s not working for the crew. He’s in this for himself.”

  Cartel sat back, eyeing me hard. “Aren’t we all, though?”

  Because I was in it for one thing and one thing only—the head of the man who’d murdered my sister. And Cartel knew it. “Edge has got good men under him. They deserve better.”

  “Perhaps, but men stupid enough to elect a sadistic narcissist for a leader deserve what they get, don’t you agree?” He took a sip of his coffee, not really wanting or waiting for an answer. “We stay. I want you keeping tabs on them, though. They make a single move, I want to know about it. This working with the Soul Suckers has the possibility of bringing the entire organization down, and I don’t like it.”

  But he’d force his men to stay anyway, which made no sense. Nothing ever did with Cartel. “I’ll watch, but this is getting to be too much. If Edge finds out I’m keeping an eye on him for you, they’ll kill me.”

  “Then don’t get found out.” Cartel took one last sip from his mug then stood, grabbing his jacket from the seat and slipping it on. “Stay warm out there, Parris. I’d hate to see you frozen in a ditch on the side of the road somewhere.”

  Motherfucker. The words he didn’t say were like Ashley. My sister and old lady to a fellow Black Angel, who’d been murdered during a club war the bastard had started. She’d been found half frozen in a bank of snow on the side of the road, her husband having been shot by a rival club. Cartel knew that history, which made his comment an intentional kick to the balls. One that hit just as hard as the warlord wanted it to. While I hadn’t known the girl well because of a substantial age difference, she was still kin. Blood family and club family. It was my responsibility to avenge her death, and I had yet to accomplish that feat. Cartel knew that too. Likely, my failure was his fault. Not that he’d ever admit it.

  I couldn’t even respond to the bastard, could only sit and stare after him as he walked out the door. Could only do my best to calm my racing heart and not charge the man down and give him a bullet to the back of the head. He deserved to die, but taking him out might sign my own death certificate. And I had shit to do before I let that happen.

  “Too damn old for this shit,” I whispered, assuming I was talking to myself. I’d missed the waitress walking up, apparently.

  “Oh, hun. Aren’t we all?” The woman smiled down at me, her brow puckering. Likely seeing something in my face that set off her instincts. Smart woman. I wasn’t someone she needed to be around, but she didn’t seem like one not to do her job. “You need more coffee?”

  “I’m good, thanks.” I was far from good, no matter how you wanted to apply that word to me, but she didn’t need my sob story.

  She strolled off without another word, leaving me to stew in the bullshit swirling through my head. Ashley and Jinx…two very different women, two different responsibilities. Ashley hadn’t really ever been mine to worry about. My dad had remarried later in life and ended up with a second family, one I hadn’t spent a lot of time with. Ashley had gotten married right out of high school to a Black Angel named Gunner, the two settling down in Reno where I’d been living. They’d enjoyed club life, and I’d enjoyed getting to know the girl a little better.

  Then Cartel had stirred up trouble with other clubs in the region, and things had gotten hot. Too hot. He’d started a club war in Nevada, one that had cost us far too many men. Had cost me my sister, too. And had left me in the position of being the vengeance seeker for her death. He’d gotten me my nomad patch so I wouldn’t be tied to one club and sent me out on my mission—kill those who’d killed our men and women. I’d managed to knock out three of the four men responsible for Gunner’s and Ashley’s deaths, leaving only one left walking this earth. A Soul Sucker by the name of Wolf. I’d track him down eventually, though, and when I did…lord, I might just die myself. Wasn’t like I could retire—that particular luxury wasn’t available to me.

  And fuck, before I could think of doing anything, I needed to deal with the Jinx situation. Get her safe and settled somewhere that Edge couldn’t put his hands on her. Or his blades. I owed her because I’d failed her mom. I’d failed her mom because I’d been hunting Wolf.

  My world had become one big carousel of suck. A ride I could never seem to get off, no matter how badly I might want to.

  Once I finished my coffee and dropped a twenty on the table, I followed in the footsteps of Cartel and hustled out of the diner. To my surprise, the man hadn’t left yet. Instead, he sat inside a beast of a truck, one that towered over my bike—purposely, I was sure. The man was nothing if not a showman, and having a truck that big was definitely for show.

  “By the way,” he said through the open passenger side window even as his driver revved the engine. “I sent a few guys on a mission to check things out in that town you seem so fond of. Figured your crew could do a ride-through and give the residents of Justice a show.”

  Fuck me, Alder would have my balls if he tied this to me. “How many guys?”

  “Enough to get the job done. You’d better hurry if you’re going to try to play the white knight in this story. We both know that’s not your strongest skill, or so I understand. What’s the girl’s name again—Curse? Witch? No…Jinx. The daughter whose mother you couldn’t save. A mother and a sister. Good thing you don’t have a wife, or she’d be in the cemetery for sure.”

  Cartel roared off, leaving me stewing in the cold as the sun began to shine down on me. The guy was a fucker, but he knew me well enough to hit hard in all those sensitive spots. The ones that never seemed to heal quite right. Two shots, and I might as well have been down for the count.

  Two women dead, all my fault.

  And if Edge got his hands on Jinx, it’d be three for sure.

&
nbsp; I raced for my bike, knowing I needed to haul ass back to Justice. Tearing out of the parking lot and speeding back down the mountain.

  I was halfway there when a text came, the robotic voice of my phone reading it to me through my helmet speakers.

  Text from Finn Kennard. Trouble in town. Meet me at the hardware store on Main Street.

  “No shit.” I hit a red light at an intersection, yanking out my phone and tapping a quick reply of already on my way before pocketing it again. The light turned green, and I took off, racing toward town. It didn’t take me too long to get there, though time was a relative sort of thing considering the situation. Had the Black Angels done as they’d been told and simply rolled through town, no time at all. Had they broken orders and snagged someone to play a little cat-and-mouse game with, I’d taken far too long. Totally depended on what was going on.

  Main Street seemed quiet as I rolled up to the hardware store that sat on the corner. Bell’s Hardware, Mercy Bell, Store Manager, the sign above the door read. Which likely meant whoever needed help was a woman. Just what I needed—some damsel in distress.

  I dismounted my bike and sauntered toward the door where another sign proclaimed the shop closed. Inside, the lights remained off, the space seemingly empty, door locked when I tried it. I knocked, peering inside but seeing nothing. No movement, no sign of life. I was about to leave, to walk back to my bike and wait for Finn, when something caught my attention. A shadow sliding across the floor. I crept to my left, walking along the length of the front window with my hand on the gun in my shoulder harness. Ready to draw. Ready to fire if need be.

  But the only person getting shot was me. Not with a bullet, but with gorgeous blue eyes and the most perfect, beautiful face I’d ever seen. Even through the glass window, even with an expression of total distrust in place, she nearly knocked me to my knees. I could feel the weight of her stare, sense the chemistry between us. One look, and I was a goner.