Sabotage: A Vigilante Justice Novel

by Kristin Harte

  “Or maybe I should throw my party right on Justice’s Main Street instead. Heard there’s a good restaurant there.”

  I locked down every muscle, hoping like hell Deacon had the same skill. That he wasn’t giving away any sort of fear with his expression or some sort of tic.

  Tiny wasn’t done with us, though. “I also hear good things about the hardware store there. Sounds like they’ve got lots of supplies for a man like me.”

  Translation—sadistic, brutal, and into causing pain just like Edge and Ravel. Yeah, Mercy’s store would definitely have supplies he’d like, but he wasn’t stepping foot in there unless it was over my dead body. I didn’t reply, though, didn’t give him a weapon against me, but Deacon wasn’t exactly one to hold his tongue.

  “You might want to think twice about going anywhere near Main Street, son.”

  Tiny chuckled, locking eyes with me. “Speaking of sons, I bet Wolf could catch a pretty penny for that little boy you’ve been seen with.”

  That leash I’d been tethered with, the one to make sure no one noticed how much Mercy and Beckett meant to me, the one that held me back from making quick decisions in regard to them so as to keep them safe—it snapped.

  I was on Tiny in a heartbeat, knocking him off his bike and beating him in the face before I could even take a breath. He fought back, rolling me underneath him and getting a few good shots in. I wasn’t about to just take it, though. That wasn’t my fucking way. I pushed off from the ground and rolled again, straddling the big enforcer and bringing my fist down with a snap to pound into his throat. Hitting bone like an eye socket or jaw would break a man’s hand—hitting something soft and delicate like a throat could do more damage to the opponent and save a few fractures. I’d always hated casts.

  Tiny wasn’t unaccustomed to fighting. I had just shrugged off Deacon’s hold on my arm—the man seeming to want to break the two of us apart—when Tiny punched out and up. It wasn’t a fist that connected with my side, though. By the deep burn that set in, my only guess was that he’d stabbed me.

  “Break it up,” Deacon said, finally grabbing hold of me and yanking me off Tiny. The big man stayed on the ground, coughing and choking as I struggled to my feet. Yup, definitely stabbed, though not deeply. He must not have had a good hold on his blade, which sat on the ground beside his hand. I kicked the thing away and fell back against the sedan, trying to catch my breath.

  “You fucking stabbed me.”

  Tiny gagged and rolled over, crawling to his knees and spitting before he could reply. “You punched me in the throat.”

  “Aren’t you two supposed to be on the same crew?” Deacon asked, holding both his gun and mine, which I must have dropped in my rush at Tiny. Good thing. Otherwise, the man might be dead.

  “Yeah.” I pressed my hand against my wound, double-checking how badly I was bleeding. Which really wasn’t that bad. “But same crew or not, you don’t fuck with kids.”

  Tiny laughed, the sound mumbled and wet. “Your play is so obvious.” The man pushed off the ground and rose to his feet, still breathing heavy. “Edge wants the girl. Bring her to him, or you and I will be dancing. And I’m not afraid of collateral damage.”

  This motherfucker. “You come anywhere near that boy or his mom, and there’ll be nothing left of you but some entrails for the scavengers to make a meal out of.”

  “You two are over-fucking-dramatic.” Deacon laughed in that sarcastic way he seemed to have perfected before pinning Tiny with a look that would have had most men shaking in their boots. “Besides, won’t matter in the end. Tiny here goes for Jinx, and the Kennards will have his head before he gets a finger on her. And he dares to come for the boy? We won’t even need the Kennards.”

  “You think you can snipe me, old man?” Tiny asked, eyeing the long-range rifle Deacon held.

  But the sniper had mad skills at a lot of things, including knowing when to go serious as fuck. “Nah. Shooting from so far away distances me from the kill and makes the death of the mark quick and painless. You come anywhere near a child of Justice, it won’t be a bullet coming for you.” He stepped closer, smiling brightly, looking far too happy as he said, “I’ll cut your fucking dick off and leave you to bleed out in the woods instead. See what kinds of critters the smell attracts.”

  Tiny huffed a laugh, but Deacon never broke his stare, never backed down a single inch, which definitely seemed to throw the enforcer off his game. The big man finally took a step back, nodding to the older, smaller barkeep.

  “We’re done for now.”

  “No shit,” Deacon said. “Don’t take my warning lightly. I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

  Tiny glared my way, but I just raised my eyebrows and stared right back, letting Deacon take the moment. Knowing Tiny would think twice before stepping foot in Justice if he had a functioning brain cell in that head of his. Still, even as the enforcer mounted up and started his engine, even as he flipped us off before making a 180-degree turn and gunning the engine, my gut churned. The man knew about Mercy and Beckett. If Tiny knew, others did as well. That fact put them in more danger than I’d planned for. Fuck.

  Still, we had a plan—me and Deacon. We also had the Kennard crew if we needed them, and I had a feeling we were about to need them.

  I waited until the rumble of Tiny’s engine had faded completely before I finally turned to Deacon, not quite ready to get to the heavy stuff just yet. “You threatened to cut off the man’s dick but called me dramatic?”

  Deacon shrugged. “You said entrails. That word seemed more dramatic.”

  “Than cutting off a man’s dick?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay then.” I cracked my neck and sighed, trying hard to line up details in my head that simply shouldn’t go together. “We need to deal with these bodies, then get to Main Street, maybe track down Gage and work out a protection plan for him to keep an eye on Mercy.”

  Which would never be enough. He would always place Katie as his priority, a fact that I couldn’t argue because Mercy and Beckett were mine.

  “I can deal with the bodies alone. You need to go see that warlord and prove to him that you killed these two fuckers and then maybe get that stab wound looked at.”

  “I’m fine.” But I didn’t sound fine. Not in the least.

  Deacon must have heard the strain in my voice. “In the history of the world, no one who has ever said they’re fine in that tone has actually been fine.”

  I couldn’t really argue that. “He mentioned the hardware store. They know about Mercy and Beckett. I have to get down there.”

  “I can send Zane and his crew to Main Street.”

  An intriguing idea but one that didn’t sit well with me. One—I hated cops. Two—I didn’t know that crew well enough to be certain they’d keep my family safe. Because yeah, Mercy and Beckett were mine, and the thought of them being in danger made me want to fly down this mountain just to make sure they were protected.

  Without answers or plans or even options, the only thing I could do was grit out a tired and breathy, “Fuck.”

  Deacon grabbed my arm, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I trust Zane, and I’ll make sure he knows how important these two are…to all of us.”

  Which was about as good as I could get considering all that needed to be done. “You’d better. It might take me a day or two to get back there.”

  “I’ll make sure she’s covered.”

  Fuck, I hated this. But there was more to think about than Mercy. More to consider. “And Jinx?”

  “Jinx is with Finn. He won’t let anything happen to her. And once you confirm the mission was completed, she should be a whole lot safer.”

  True facts. I still didn’t like this, though.

  “Fine, but Zane’s crew had better not fuck this up.” I popped the trunk and took out my phone, snapping a couple pictures of faces, gunshots, and name badges so Cartel couldn’t question my completing his mission, then slammed the lid once more. “And Dea
con?”

  “Yeah?”

  My heart lurched, my body rebelling at heading in the wrong direction. At riding away from Justice instead of toward it. A couple more days. Hopefully, just a couple more days. “Make sure my boy is taken care of.”

  The barkeep’s face fell, his eyes sharp but haunted. “As if he were my own.”

  I took the man at his word. As much as I hated it, I needed to block out my thoughts and worries about Mercy and Beckett, needed to get my head in the spy game. Because I had a meeting with a warlord to arrange, and it was one I wasn’t sure I’d walk away from. Night would be falling soon enough. It was time to get back to work.

  Chapter Sixteen

  PARRIS

  CARTEL WAS STILL at the diner when I rolled into the lot. Or maybe he’d somehow gotten word I was coming and had returned. Either way, the man spent way too much time lording over his booth in the back, and I had smiled at the waitress more than I should have needed to.

  “Well, look who the cat dragged in.” A woman at the table closest to the door stood up, looking really fucking pissed off. At me. I paused, staring at her, trying to place her face. To pinpoint how I knew her because I did know her. She looked familiar, and that voice—I’d definitely heard it before.

  My brain refused to put a name with that face, though. “Do I know you?”

  Rage lit up her eyes. This chick looked ready to kill. “You really are an arrogant prick, aren’t you?”

  The arrogant prick slipped the pieces into place. This was—well, hell, I still didn’t know her name. Whatever it was, she’d been at one of Edge’s parties. She’d taken me home with her and gotten pissed when I’d had to leave to meet Cartel. That had happened pre-Mercy but seemed so long ago. Had that really been just last week?

  “You don’t remember my name, do you?” Mystery Hookup said, crossing her arms and glaring hard. “You fuck that many women? Hard to keep them all straight or something?”

  No, but she hadn’t been memorable. Or wanted. And she was nothing more than a roadblock at this point. “I’m just here to meet with someone.”

  “Another chick? Which one? Let me tell that bitch how you’re going to walk out and leave her with nothing.”

  I caught Cartel’s eye from across the room, and the interest in his expression grated my nerves. He’d be using this interaction against me for sure, which meant it needed to end. Immediately.

  And obviously, I was the only one who would be ending it. “Not meeting a chick, but I can’t stand here and argue with you. Have a nice night.”

  I walked past her, letting the curses and names she spat as I retreated bounce off me. Ignoring her and knowing that probably pissed her off more than if I’d just fought with her. Whatever. Women like her—quick hookups and quicker getaways—were part of my past life. I was working toward a new future.

  One the man before me stood squarely in the way of. “Friend of yours?”

  “She came to one of Edge’s parties,” I said as I took the seat across from him.

  “Seems feisty.”

  I snorted a laugh at that one. “Try addicted to coke and willing to do anything to get it.”

  He nodded, looking over my shoulder toward where the girl had been sitting before taking a sip of his coffee. “Sounds like what I expect from Edge.”

  What we all expected from him at that point.

  “Why do you keep him on?” I sat back as the waitress stopped by, giving her another damn smile when she set a cup of coffee down in front of me, relaxing once more when she left. “He’s a total fuckup and will drive that house into the ground. Why do you allow it?”

  “What we do at the national level is our business. And speaking of business…”

  He purposely let that trail, knowing why I’d come. Knowing what I owed him. I pulled my phone from my jacket pocket and unlocked the screen, flipping through pictures to show him exactly what he wanted. To prove the completion of the mission he’d sent me on.

  “Here.” I tossed the phone on the table, the image of two dead Soul Suckers in a trunk filling the screen. “Happy now?”

  He looked at the phone for a long time before pushing the device back my way. “Quite.”

  That was it. We’d killed two men, and I got a one-word response. That wouldn’t be enough.

  “So, she’s free, right? Jinx is no longer property of the Soul Suckers or the Black Angels.”

  “I’m a man of my word. I’ll send directives out that the girl is not to be touched again.”

  Which was about the best I could do. “Good. And one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  Time to play my last hand. “I’m leaving the Vegas club.”

  Cartel’s smile turned icy, his expression flattening. A man fighting for control. “Try me again.”

  “I earned my nomad patch, and I’m taking advantage of it.” To be free from the chains tying one to a particular city or house, to give up the family vibe of a specific crew to stand alone. To begin a new life right there in Justice. All things I didn’t need to tell him. “I don’t want to be in Vegas anymore.”

  But Cartel hadn’t risen to the power that he had by backing down easily. If ever. “I need you to keep an eye on that Vegas crew.”

  “And I need you to respect the nomad life.” I tapped the patch over my name, the one declaring me a nomad—a free member of the club. “I earned this fucker, and you know it. The national prez knows it. Fuck, Edge knows it. I’m done babysitting him for you. Find someone else.”

  Cartel sat back, staring at me. Likely waiting for me to crack. I wasn’t about to. It took him way too long to figure that out, though. “I’ll consider it, but I need one more thing from you.”

  He could consider my dick—my nomad patch meant I was not just allowed to leave a particular house, I was expected to—but I held my tongue on that. “Like you haven’t gotten enough from me over the years?”

  “You are my favorite little workhorse.” His lips kicked up into that serpentine grin, the one I hated. The one that meant he was about to put my ass in a sling. “Tomorrow morning, there’s a shipment coming into Rock Falls. Edge and his team are meant to handle it, but I want you there.”

  “Why?”

  “You said it yourself—Edge is a total fuckup.”

  At least he wasn’t blind to that. “What’s in the shipment?”

  He stabbed me with a look. “You know what’s in the shipment.”

  Drugs. Guns. Toys for Edge to play with. But that didn’t quite fit if he wanted me there. “For use or for sale?”

  “For sale. This Rock Falls thing has become quite expensive for us, so the Soul Suckers are yielding a small part of their territory while we’re here so we can earn back what we’ve spent.”

  Translation—the shipment contained drugs the guys would be expected to make money on. “I’m not selling shit.”

  “I didn’t ask you to. I just want you there to oversee the delivery. Make sure no one gets an itchy trigger finger.”

  “Why isn’t Tiny handling that?” Since it would technically be his job and all.

  Cartel shrugged. “I want you on it.”

  One job—one delivery—and then I could go back to my nomad lifestyle. No home club, no church meetings on Sundays, no allegiance to anyone other than the national prez. I could stay in Justice. I could show Mercy and Beckett the kind of man I really was. I could have a shot at a different life.

  Yeah. One delivery was worth it.

  “Fine. I’ll take that on, but then I’m out. No more Vegas.”

  “Agreed.” Cartel shook my hand, his grin making me uncomfortable. “Meet up with the Black Angels at the truck stop at six tomorrow morning. Tiny’ll be riding out from the campground.”

  “Where’s the drop happening?”

  “He’ll tell you.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “From what I understand, most of the day.”

  Fuck. I needed to get back to my girl, but
I also needed to tie up this loose end. To pull myself from the bullshit Vegas club so I had the freedom to be where I wanted to be. Which was at Mercy’s side. Another day wouldn’t kill me…I hoped.

  “I’ll be there.”

  Cartel grinned. “Good man.”

  I didn’t feel good.

  In fact, hours later as I finally made it back to the motel and was able to strip off the clothes I’d been wearing, I noticed I didn’t look good either. Pale, drawn, tired…I looked older than my forty-some-odd years, weary in a way few people could understand. Things didn’t get better when I saw the rest of my body. The stab wound Tiny had given me looked gnarly—all deep purple and blue and yellow bruises spreading halfway up my rib cage with a violent little slash in the center. He’d hit harder than necessary but hadn’t sliced at all, which was good. If he’d gotten the angle right and aimed a little lower, he could have killed me.

  He’d likely try again when he learned I was leaving Vegas.

  “One more time,” I said to the old man staring back at me in the mirror. One more mission, one more day away from the people I wanted to protect, before I could take my spot in Justice. I itched to call Mercy, to hear her sweet voice, but I didn’t. Couldn’t. That woman and her son didn’t need to be sullied by the shit I still had to do. They didn’t need to be pulled into this world. One more mission, and I could step back. Not leave but put some distance between them and the bullshit club stuff.

  One more day, and I could start a new life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  MERCY

  I’D NEVER BEEN one to let my anger get the better of me, not even after Beckett’s dad had taken off on us. I’d justified his decisions instead, while hiding my own rage at how unfair life was. I might have simmered under the surface for a lot of years—might still have been slightly ticked that he’d walk away like that—but I’d never exploded on him.

  Parris leaving us with nothing but some donuts and a few pretty words ignited my temper like nothing else.