Sabotage: A Vigilante Justice Novel

by Kristin Harte

  Had I said fate was a cruel mistress? I was wrong.

  She was a bitch on wheels, and she’d just run me over.

  Chapter Two

  MERCY

  I SHOULD HAVE BEEN a dental hygienist.

  “Great job, buddy.” I grabbed Beckett’s toothbrush before he could put it down—still covered in toothpaste, of course—and gave him my best mom smile. “How about I go over your teeth one last time, just to make sure they’re sparkling clean?”

  My little boy—all three feet and thirty-four pounds of him—gave me a foamy grin. “That way the tooth fairy will bring me extra toys, right?”

  A little white lie never hurt anyone. “Right. Now, give me a big smile.”

  He did as he was told, letting me scrub those baby teeth one last time before he could spit and use his rinse. At five years old, he’d already lost one tooth and had a couple wiggly ones ready to go. And he was super excited about more visits from the tooth fairy.

  “I wonder if this one will fall out before my birthday tomorrow.”

  Six. He would be six in a matter of hours. Where did the time go?

  “I doubt it. And hey, how about we keep our hands out of our mouths, okay? That’s how you catch colds.”

  “But they’re clean.” Beckett held up two tiny little hands, showing me his palms. “I washed them.”

  “I know, but still. Hands away from your face. I don’t want you to get sick.” I followed him to his room, taking a seat on the bed to watch as he picked out his clothes. Nothing would match, of course, but I let him handle this part of his day. He was clean, well fed, and happy—I wasn’t about to let the fact that he couldn’t figure out what color sweat pants to wear with his favorite flannel shirts bother me.

  He yanked off his pajamas, babbling away about something to do with some cartoon. I was too mesmerized by the little human standing before me. Skinny legs and even skinnier arms, rib cage showing—the child was bony as all get-out, and I loved every inch of him. He’d been my buddy since the day he was born, but he had stolen my heart long before that. He’d come into the world on an unusually cold Saturday, screaming and flailing until he was set on my chest. So tiny then. And now… Well, now he was old enough to go to school and pick out his own clothes. Seriously, where did the time go?

  “Ready for school.” He held up his arms and shot me a smile before running for the kitchen. Red plaid today paired with gray sweat pants and bright yellow socks. Sure. Why not?

  After a quick breakfast, I bundled Beckett up—“But it’s not that cold, Mom.”—and brought him downstairs to the hardware store. Late start day meant we got to sleep in a little, but we still had to get our butts out the door if we were going to make it to his elementary school halfway across the county. Most kids from Justice—not that there were many anymore—attended schools in Rock Falls. I’d wanted him to have more than a basic public education in Nowhere, Colorado, could offer, so I paid tuition at a private school. It was tough to make ends meet sometimes, and I had to work a lot of hours to keep paying the bills, but the juice would eventually be worth the squeeze. I wanted Beckett to have more opportunities before him than I’d had. I wanted him to have better.

  Better cost money.

  “Got your folder in your bag?” I asked. Beckett nodded, looking ready to go. “Okay. Let’s—”

  Before I could finish my sentence, a rumble disrupted the quiet of the morning. For a moment, I thought maybe some of the men who worked at the mill were rolling through town on their heavy equipment. But I’d grown up in Justice; I knew the sound of those engines. This was different, and different likely meant dangerous.

  “Get behind the counter, honey.” I slipped to the front of the store, peeking around a shelving fixture to get a better look. Bikers. Lots of them. I counted ten turning onto Main Street before I even thought to reach for my phone. Bikers meant trouble, and trouble meant I needed a Kennard. We had no police force in Justice—no firemen or EMTs either. What we did have was a family who took care of those of us who lived there, and that family was run by one Alder Kennard, former Special Forces soldier in the Army and current boss of the mill that employed most of the town.

  A man who was apparently too busy to answer his phone.

  “Shit,” I hissed when Alder’s voice mail picked up.

  “You said a bad word.”

  “I did, buddy. I’m sorry.” I dialed the next Kennard in line—Bishop, former Navy SEAL—but he didn’t answer either. Not surprising—the man had been spending most of his time with his girlfriend in Vegas lately. That left me one Kennard sibling in town, the only one I really didn’t want to call. The one who avoided me at every turn. Finn Kennard—ex-boyfriend, ex-addict, ex-con. Lots of exes going on

  “You’d think we’d all be over high school by now,” I said to myself as I pulled up Finn’s information.

  “I haven’t even gone to high school yet.” Beckett snuck in beside me, wrapping his arms around my hips. “Uncle Gage said if I saw bikers, I was to run home or to the restaurant.”

  “Then it’s a good thing we’re home. We don’t have to run anywhere.”

  He tugged me tighter and whispered, “I’m scared.”

  So was I. “It’s okay to be scared, but you can’t let it stop you. We’re just going to call for help.”

  “Are you calling Uncle Alder?”

  Because everyone was either aunt or uncle in this town. “No. His brother, Finn.”

  I finally found the number I was looking for and pressed send, suddenly thinking I should have sent Katie a text to warn her. Ever since she’d moved back to town and opened a restaurant a few doors down, we’d been rekindling a friendship that had grown distant. She’d even lived in the second apartment over my store for a while. She’d definitely be at her restaurant down the street by now and likely unable to hear the engines if she was cooking. Of course, she had Gage with her. The big, beastly man never left her alone and would keep her safe. It was just Beckett and me in the hardware store, and hopefully soon, a Kennard.

  Speaking of which—

  “What’s up, Mercy?”

  “Hey, Finn. I hate to bother you, but I can’t reach either of your brothers, and I wasn’t sure who else to call.”

  “No problem. What is it you need?”

  “Are you anywhere close to town? I think there’s trouble over here, and I can’t go check because I’ve got Beckett with me.”

  “I’m about six minutes out. Stay put—I’ll be there.”

  “Okay. Hurry.”

  I hustled Beckett into the back room and shot a quick text to Katie.

  Bikers rolling through.

  There. Conscience cleared.

  “Mom?”

  “Yeah, buddy?”

  “Is someone coming to help us?”

  God willing. “Uncle Finn is. We’re just going to hide back here until he gets here.”

  And then, we waited. I wasn’t worried about one of the bikers breaking in to the store—not really. The doors were still locked from the night before, after all. I was more worried about what those nasty bikers were doing here. Some motorcycle club had been causing trouble for months, had even set a fire that had killed a woman. They weren’t welcome in town. Not that something as simple as our attitude would stop them.

  Some days, I regretted moving back home. Not many, but some. Like today.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” Beckett said, patting my leg and hanging on tight. “We’ll be okay.”

  Oh, my Beckett. I hugged him and kissed the top of his head, praying hard he was right.

  “You are my favorite Beckett in the whole wide world. Did you know that?”

  He giggled. “Yeah. Because you tell me all the time.”

  “Well, it’s true.”

  Beckett had always been an easy child to love—a good boy, so sweet and kind—very much like his father. At least, how he’d been before he’d decided he wasn’t ready to be a grown-up and left me and Beckett without a backward gla
nce. Those had been a rough few months—being a new mom and all alone—but we’d made it. Somehow.

  A couple of years into diapers and day care and sleepless nights, my dad had called, saying he needed to retire. He’d offered to give me the family business and the apartment over the store if I just brought the baby home. I hadn’t wanted to at first—small towns like Justice weren’t exactly great places to find opportunities for education and social development like I wanted for Beckett, but I’d eventually packed everything up and headed back to the place where I’d grown up. My dad had needed me, and I’d never let him down.

  Thankfully, he’d stuck to his word. The business was mine along with an apartment I didn’t need to pay rent on. Dad complained sometimes about my deviations from a true hardware store, but he never stood in my way. I needed money to take care of Beckett, and I’d get it no matter what. Even if that meant no longer just selling nails, hammers, and plumbing supplies.

  Minutes passed with the two of us hiding out in the back room, silent. Too many minutes. I was about to sneak back into the store to grab the shotgun from under the counter when someone knocked on the front door. Heart pounding, I pushed Beckett behind the table I used as a shipping counter.

  “Stay here, okay?”

  His lip trembled but he nodded, my brave boy. I kissed the top of his head then snuck in to the store, staying low and keeping away from the main aisle so whoever was outside wouldn’t see me. My plan would have worked, too, if the guy had stayed by the door. But of course, he walked along the front windows and happened across my path just as I was attempting to move into a different section. Tall and thick with cropped light hair and heavy features, the man was an imposing sight. And his eyes—so deep and striking, pinning me in place with a look. Devouring me with that blue stare. I’d never seen eyes like those, never felt trapped by a glance before either. The rest of him didn’t make him seem any less dangerous either. Black work boots, jeans, black jacket—he looked like some sort of goth kid all grown up. Mature—older than me for sure. A dangerous man. But then he moved, and the patches on his jacket caught my eye. One in particular.

  Black Angels.

  Not a Soul Sucker, but still… Biker.

  “We’re closed,” I yelled, glaring hard. Not that it mattered. The guy crooked a finger at me, beckoning. As if. “Not happening, dude.”

  His lips twitched, one corner escaping and rising just enough to give him a lopsided sort of smile. “Finn sent me.”

  That caught me off guard. The bikers might have known of Alder, but Finn? I doubted anyone would know much about him. He wasn’t like the rest of the Kennards—wasn’t super successful or former military. He was just…Finn. Lots of exes Finn.

  “How do you know Finn?”

  “How do you know Finn?”

  “You can’t answer a question with a question—that’s just rude.”

  The guy raised an eyebrow—just one—and tapped his phone against the glass, looking ready to laugh. “I’m staying at The Jury Room motel and working with Deacon.”

  The Jury Room—the bar Deacon owned and Finn worked at. Okay, this was getting more believable. I hurried toward the door, looking behind the guy just in case. No sign of the other bikers, so his motorcycle stood in stark contrast to the now-empty street. Just one guy…I could likely take care of one if I needed to.

  “Don’t try anything funny,” I said as I opened the door for him.

  He gave me a once-over from my head to my toes, then turned a megawatt grin my way. “I usually try to keep those sorts of activities serious instead of funny, but I’m down for whatever your preference is. What exactly did you have in mind?”

  My internal groan would have been a seismic 4.0 had I released it. “Just what I need—a cocky biker trying to woo me.”

  He followed me as I headed for the counter, his footsteps loud against the shiny tiled floor. “You think I’m trying to woo you? You looking to be my princess, beauty? And who the fuck says woo anymore?”

  I spun, advancing on him and lowering my voice. “You’re certainly no prince, so I’ll skip that, thanks. And yes, I said woo. I think you’re trying to get in my pants, but there’s a little boy in the back room who would wonder what that meant. I’m not in the mood for that particular conversation, so I’m going with woo. Can you deal with that?”

  His smile grew. The asshole.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Polite asshole…but still an asshole.

  “Then we’re good.” I hurried the rest of the way to the counter, my heart pounding and my breath coming faster even once I was able to put the hulking piece of furniture between us. Who was this guy, and why did I get the feeling he was hitting on me with just a look?

  “How about you tell me what happened today?”

  I shrugged. “Bikers rolled through town. I tried calling Alder and Bishop, but they didn’t answer. So I called Finn.”

  “Alder and Bishop have pussy on the brain.”

  My entire body felt as if it had gone up in flames. “Can you not with the language, please? Seriously…little pitchers have big handles.”

  He blinked. “Huh?”

  “Kids. Little kids…they overhear stuff.”

  “What does that have to do with pitchers?”

  I didn’t really have an answer for him. That pitchers-handles thing was something my grandmother had always said when she had wanted people to remember there were children present. It had never occurred to me to question the meaning.

  Not that I had time for this particular discussion. “Look, I appreciate your coming by, but I think we’re okay to wait here until Finn arrives. You can just…go.”

  He leaned over the counter, looking way too much like a predator pinning his prey in place. “I’m not leaving, beauty. I’m on guard duty.”

  “No thanks. I think we can handle this.”

  “I’m sure you can handle anything coming your way, but you might as well get used to me being around. Consider me your personal hero. I plan to remain all up in your space.”

  How did he make that sound so dirty? “I don’t know you.”

  “Well, you’d better get to know me, sweetheart. Think of me like the local cop—you have trouble, I’m your 9-1-1.”

  “The Kennards are my emergency number. That’s who I called.” I looked up as the bell rang, spotting Finn coming my way. A little on the thinner side with haunting gray eyes and cheekbones most people would pay money for, he looked a lot rougher than his brothers. Tattoos aside, he carried an air of danger about him. A quiet sort of confidence that tended to throw the locals off. And I had never been happier to see him in my life, even if feeling like a complete idiot for leaving the door unlocked. That asshole had truly messed with my head.

  “What’s going on here?” Finn asked, stopping right beside biker guy. “I figured you’d wait outside for me.”

  “Thought I’d jump right in, but beauty here doesn’t seem to want my help.”

  That nickname was getting old really fast. “The name is Mercy.”

  The biker leaned over the counter again, dropping his voice as he practically growled, “Be thankful I’m not calling you Beast.”

  What the… “Are you saying I’m ugly?”

  “Hold up,” Finn said before the douchenozzle at his side could answer me. “Before we fall down the rabbit hole of name-calling and fairy tales, can we talk about what’s going on? What did you see that made you call me?”

  I darted a glance at the guy’s leather jacket with the patches—one said Parris, which must have been his road name. Not that it mattered. “Bikers. Lots of trashy bikers in town.”

  “Aw, beauty,” Parris said, placing one hand over his heart in some exaggerated pose. “You’re breaking my heart, calling me trashy.”

  “If the boot fits—”

  “Okay,” Finn snapped before taking a deep breath. “So, you saw a group of bikers. How many? And where?”

  Right. The reason I’d called. “Ten, maybe t
welve. They drove down Main Street this morning heading toward the highway.”

  “You see Gage this morning?”

  “Not yet, but I’m sure he and Katie are at the restaurant. You know he won’t let her open that place alone.”

  Finn’s brow furrowed, his eyes holding mine. “Was it just you and Beckett this morning?”

  I hated the undercurrent of that question. Just what I wanted to talk about. My nonexistent love life. “Yeah. Just us.”

  “And the bikers—they didn’t come in here?”

  “No, they just rode past. I would have followed them to see where they went, but it’s late start day so Beckett’s still here and—” I shot a glare at Parris “—I don’t trust bikers around my son.”

  Finn nodded once and turned to Parris. “We should head over to The Baker’s Cottage. See if Katie and Gage had any trouble. We can loop through town on the way back to be sure they’re all gone.”

  Parris, meanwhile, refused to look away from me, staring me down like a dog on the hunt. “Sounds good.”

  I nodded, focusing on Finn and doing my best to ignore the way the other man’s stare made my blood pump. “Thanks, Finn. I appreciate your coming so quickly.”

  “Anytime. You can call me whenever you need to.”

  “Or me,” Parris said, practically smirking. “Like I said before, I’m your personal hero.”

  I couldn’t hold back my grimace. “More like my personal zero.”

  “You wound me, beauty. You really do.” He knocked on the counter once, making me jump. “You’ll change your mind eventually.”

  “Why don’t you hold your breath and wait for that moment?”

  “But then I’d miss breathing in that pretty perfume you wear.” The man inched closer, sniffing me. Literally sniffing me. His deep-blue eyes practically devoured me. There was no other way to describe the way they absorbed the light and took me in. Trapping me. Holding me hostage. How did he do that?