Sabotage: A Vigilante Justice Novel

by Kristin Harte

  And with that, he was gone, and I was a much bigger mess than I’d ever thought I would be.

  I’m going to hear you say it in some vows.

  Such a pipe dream.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  PARRIS

  THREE FUCKING DAYS WITHOUT HER, and my world had stopped. Just…stopped. I hadn’t left my motel room, hadn’t made any plans in regard to Cartel. All I could do was mope. I had become the mopiest fucker on the planet, all because some little woman had kicked me out.

  A woman I was pretty sure I was in love with.

  One I’d been convinced would love me eventually, too.

  Instead, she’d ended things. Abruptly. After what had been some seriously intense sex. My confusion over that ran pretty deep, I had to admit. And still, I couldn’t be mad at her. She’d been protecting her child, had gone full momma bear on me and cut me out of her life. Like one of those trapped animals in the woods that chewed off their own leg, except it sure hadn’t seemed as difficult as chewing off one’s leg would likely be. I mean, she’d turned on a dime, and I’d been gone within minutes. Removing a limb had to take longer than that.

  Which was how I ended up lying on my shitty motel bed watching videos on my phone of animals stuck in traps and how they reacted.

  I was a sad, sorry fucker for sure.

  A knock on my door interrupted my watching time, so I refused to answer it. On the second knock, I yelled out, “Go the fuck away.”

  There wasn’t a third knock—instead, Deacon Manns came strolling inside, his motel keychain in hand.

  “Did you really just break in to my room?” I asked, not removing my eyes from the screen. There was a fox in a cage, and she looked ready to spit nails at anyone who came near her. She sort of reminded me of my Mercy, and I really wanted the little vixen to figure out a way to escape. Or bite the hand of the man who’d trapped her clear off.

  Deacon had other plans. “Let’s go.”

  Going meant leaving, which wasn’t on my agenda. “Go where?”

  “Katie’s.”

  Town. Main Street. The Baker’s Cottage. All too close to Bell’s Hardware for me to resist, and yet I had to. Mercy didn’t want me there. “Why are you going to Katie’s?”

  “Not me, motherfucker. We. And we’re going because it’s Thursday. Cream of chicken soup day.”

  The fox had somehow managed to grab the top bars and pull herself up, contorting her body as she attempted her escape. Come on, girl. You can do it.

  “Did you hear me?” Deacon said, coming to rattle the bed with a solid kick. “Cream of chicken fucking soup day. You don’t miss that in Justice.”

  “The fox is almost out.”

  “Is that code for something? Am I watching you watching porn?”

  Yeah, that pulled a laugh from me. “Is my dick in my hand?”

  “Can’t say that I looked.”

  Fair enough. I turned the phone enough for him to see the phenomenal escape happening. “There’s a fox. In a cage. And she’s almost out.”

  He moved closer, leaning a hand again the headboard of the bed so he could get a better angle. As the two of us watched, that little vixen somehow twisted her body almost all the way around and pulled her hips through the bars, practically danced across the top of the cage before jumping into the brush. Disappearing from the frame. Safe.

  I wanted to give the beast a high five for that one. “Damn, that was amazing.”

  “Smart fox,” Deacon said. “You through now? Because I really want some soup, and you need to get out of this room. You’re moping.”

  He was right. I was a mopey motherfucker. A hungry one. So I rose to my feet, not fighting him but still not really up for anything other than moping. Soup sounded good, though. As did busting his balls a little. “I’m not moping.”

  He laughed. “Sure you’re not.”

  I grabbed my jacket off the chair, the one with the Black Angels patch on the back. The one I’d been ignoring for days. Deacon wrinkled his nose at it.

  “You don’t need that.”

  I stuttered but slipped it on, the weight of it rubbing my shoulders the wrong way. “It’s chilly.”

  “Not chilly enough for that.” He grunted and held open the door, waiting for me to pass him. “Come on, Romeo. We’ve got soup to eat and people to say hi to.”

  “What sorts of people?”

  Because Mercy didn’t want to see me, and I wasn’t ready to see her again. Not if she looked at me the way she had the other night. Flat eyes, dead inside, no heat. No spark. I couldn’t handle that again. Not right then. I already felt flayed open—seeing her look at me with that expression would completely gut me. There would be entrails, which Deacon liked to say was me being dramatic. No way could I deal with entrails today.

  But Deacon had to know where my mind went because he intentionally avoided the land mine of the Bell family. “Katie and Gage, obviously. Plus, Finn and Jinx will likely be there. I miss the cranky Kennard, and she’s way cooler than anyone else in this town. I need my fix of her spirit.”

  Jinx. My former ward. Yeah, she was cool—her mom had been too. Smart and full of life, a real joy to be around. At least until the drugs had taken hold of her. Then…well, she’d been a junkie. I’d tried real damn hard to get her to kick them, to loosen their hold on her throat, but that Vegas crew had worked against me. Had fed her more whenever my back had been turned, all because she was club pussy. The woman hadn’t deserved that. She hadn’t deserved me failing her the way I had.

  And I was about to come face-to-face with her daughter, whom I’d also failed. Jesus, I never got anything right anymore. Not since the day I’d walked into that Vegas club, my nomad patch firmly affixed, to set up a couple of years of residency. Not since the day I’d started working for Cartel.

  As Deacon turned onto Main Street, I couldn’t help but look toward the hardware store. The lights looked to be off, the closed sign in the front window. No one home.

  No way could I not ask the question. “Bell’s is closed. Is Mercy okay?”

  Deacon glanced my way before refocusing on the road. “She’s fine. Just no longer open for business without an appointment.”

  That was smart, but not what she’d wanted to do. “What made her lock the store down like that?”

  He pulled into a spot, throwing the truck into park and cutting the ignition before sighing. “She’s scared. Tiny getting his hands on Beckett really got to her.”

  It had gotten to me, too. Every time I tried to sleep, I had nightmares of what could have happened if we’d been too late. If Zane hadn’t followed Mercy out of town that day. If Tiny had decided to act the second she’d shown up instead of waiting for Wolf. All the what-ifs haunted me. I’d bet they just about killed her.

  And there was nothing I could do to help her because she didn’t want my shadow darkening her doorstep anymore.

  Without further conversation, we walked inside The Baker’s Cottage and headed for the bar, both of us taking a seat facing the single television on the back wall. The thing was only ever on for lunchtime, and it was tuned to the nearest news channel. A pretty woman with long, dark hair and pale, pale skin pointed at a map of the Front, talking about weather patterns and upcoming snowfall. I’d be needing to change out my bike for my truck again before that hit.

  “Snow coming,” I said, unable not to comment on the obvious. “How do you all deal with clearing roads?”

  Deacon stared at the screen, looking way too interested in the weather. “Alder has equipment up at the mill. He and his team handle it.”

  “Hi, guys,” Shye said, practically bouncing across the restaurant with two glasses of ice water on a tray. “I assume you want the cream of chicken. Anything else I can get you?”

  “No thanks, Shye.” Deacon grabbed his water and smiled her way. “Just the soup for today.”

  “I’ll have Katie serve it up. Gimme just a minute.” She pranced away, her ponytail bouncing, her joy a palpable force
. Not that it could break through the cage of despair locked around my chest, but still—it was nice to see the girl happy. She’d be marrying Alder soon enough. The man deserved a good woman like that. He hadn’t failed everything he’d touched.

  “It’s going to get cold for a few days,” Deacon said, still staring at the television. I watched him watching the news, paying attention to the tic at the corner of his jaw. Noticed how he sat back and relaxed once that woman was off the screen. How very not Deacon-ish.

  “You know that weather chick or something?”

  Deacon glanced my way, looking almost uncertain for the first time ever. “Yeah. I dated her.”

  I took a sip of my water, raising my eyebrows. “Dated. Past tense.”

  “Past fucking tense, yeah.” He tapped his fingers on the bar top and huffed, not looking at me. “Killing bikers at all hours and being called away to rescue people while not being able to tell her a lick of it all sort of put a damper on our relationship.”

  Yeah, that couldn’t have been easy. “Sorry to hear it.”

  “Eh, it’s fine.” He shrugged off the melancholy, grabbing his water and taking a drink before continuing, “She was way too fucking young for me, anyway.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Just about to turn thirty.”

  “That’s not young, man.”

  “I said too young for me.”

  “How old are you, anyway?”

  “Coming up hard on thirty-seven.”

  “That’s not old.”

  “Too old for a thirty-year-old woman.”

  Doubtful, but I wasn’t going to argue. I knew enough about Mercy to know there was about a ten-year gap between us. I never would have said I was too old for her or she was too young for me—the connection had been there, bright and solid and true. If Deacon couldn’t look past the age thing, then that girl wasn’t meant to be his.

  Thankfully, Shye interrupted our age discussion with a bright smile and two steaming bowls of soup. She placed a bread basket between them, giving Deacon a wink as she said, “I brought extra. I know how much you love Katie’s homemade bread.”

  Deacon grinned, turning on the charm. “You’re too good, woman. When are you going to stop messing around with my best friend and come home to me?”

  Shye’s cheeks flushed, and her grin deepened. “Sorry, Deacon. My heart belongs to Alder.”

  “He’s a lucky man.”

  She shook her head, turning to return to the kitchen. “I’m the lucky one for sure. Holler if you need anything.”

  Shye wasn’t gone ten seconds—not even enough time to take my first bite of soup—when Deacon decided to get all Deacony on me.

  “So,” he said as he grabbed a hunk of bread and slathered it in soft butter. The weight of that one word far exceeding the two letters that made it up. “When are you going to pull your head out of your ass and go get that girl?”

  As if things were that easy. “I’m no good for her. Besides, she doesn’t want me.”

  “Well, you’re mostly right.”

  I grabbed some bread, holding it up as if to throw it at him. Not that I would—that shit was too damn delicious to waste. I buttered it instead and simply growled a low, “Fuck you.”

  Deacon chuckled, dipping his bread in his bowl and taking a bite. Looking like a man in the middle of some sort of blissful experience as he groaned. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “I swear, Katie puts crack in this soup. How else could it be so good?”

  “She’s a genius with food.” He nodded, grabbing his water for a sip before going in for the kill. “Back to Mercy.”

  “Or not.”

  “I never let anyone off easy, son. You’ll figure that out soon enough.”

  “I’m older than you, therefore not your son.”

  “You’re acting like a lovesick teenager. Therefore I get to call you son, son.” He waved a hand in the air, indicating me. As in all of me. “Mercy doesn’t want this you. She wants the man underneath all that.”

  Underneath what? The club jacket, jeans, tee, and boots? Funny—she’d had that man. Had me straight-up naked. And she’d still kicked me out. “They’re one and the same.”

  “Not even close.” Deacon cocked his head, giving me a side-eye that held a metric fuckton of weight. “But if you haven’t figured that out yet, I don’t really know how to show you the differences.”

  How many differences could there be? I was who I was—Marine, ex-con, badass. Biker.

  It was the last word that didn’t sit well with me. I’d been in the club life for decades at that point. Had gone to jail for them, had killed for them, had almost died for them. And though I’d known since the whole Mercy thing had kicked off that I needed to get the fuck out of my Vegas assignment, leaving the club altogether had never crossed my mind…until my so-called brothers had come for my girl.

  But it wasn’t just her that I needed to consider. Justice had been terrorized by the Soul Suckers. The colors on a man’s back wouldn’t matter to them—all they’d see was biker. Criminal. Danger. Townspeople would always associate me with them if I wore my colors even as a nomad. Leave the Angels? That had never been an option before. But for my girl? For the chance at a family? I’d do it in a heartbeat, a thought that might as well have been a load of bricks slamming into my brain. I’d realized the need to break my connection to the Black Angels on that mountain when we’d saved Mercy and Beckett, but I hadn’t given it any further thought. Hadn’t made a move to do so because I’d been moping.

  That shit needed to stop.

  I was still stuck in my head, still thinking about the club and the crews and the brotherhood—and how I’d be walking away from all of it for a single shot at getting Mercy back if I decided to do this crazy thing—when Jinx and Finn came in. They looked happy—happier than I’d ever seen the girl, for sure. I envied them that. I sort of hated them for it, too. Jinx was snuggled into Finn’s side, smiling and laughing with him. The two obviously in love with one another. And man, while I was so glad she’d found herself a good man like Finn Kennard, I just couldn’t deal with watching that. Not while my Mercy sat a few doors down alone and unwilling to see me.

  “I’m out.” I tossed my napkin over my bowl and threw a twenty on the counter. “Lunch is on me.”

  “Don’t you need a ride back?”

  “Nah, I’m going to grab my truck from the storage garage. Gotta be ready for snow and all that.” Gotta start rebuilding my reputation as more than just a biker, though I didn’t say that.

  Deacon eyed me as if he knew, though. “I’ll be at the bar tonight for some heavy cleaning. Come on by and grab a drink.”

  “Fine, but I’m not cleaning.”

  “I didn’t ask you to.” He held out his fist for a bump, accepting mine with goddamn firework fingers. “Oh, and by the way, Saturday night there’s a joint bachelor and bachelorette party here for Alder and Shye. You’re coming.”

  “The fuck I am.”

  “The fuck you are. You can be my date.” He blew me a kiss, laughing the entire time. “Go be your sparkly, sunshine self, Parris.”

  And man, asking him to call me by my real name sat right there on the tip of my tongue. Wanting to come out. Needing to. I bit it back, though. I wasn’t ready for that level of commitment to this retire-from-the-Black-Angels idea just yet. I still needed to be Parris for a little while longer.

  That didn’t mean I couldn’t put out feelers. “Hey, Deacon?”

  “Yeah.” The man turned in his seat, eyeing me with a smirk that said he knew I wouldn’t make it out without saying something.

  Jackass. “You up for one more mission with me?”

  He cocked his head and leaned against the bar, practically sprawling right there on that stool. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “I’m not asking, just…thinking things through.”

  “You think, I’ll get some supplies together, and we’ll make shit happen. Any time, any way. So long as w
e don’t miss the party Saturday.”

  Answers like that made him the perfect partner to pull off something as stupid as I was contemplating. “You’re a good man, Deacon.”

  “No shit. You should tell more people that.” He spun back around, mumbling something about not getting enough respect. Flapping his jaws, really. I’d gotten what I needed from him, though. It was time to get the hell out of Dodge.

  But Deacon’s words refused to stop rebounding through my head as I strode outside. Mercy didn’t want Parris, but she might want Chase. She might be willing to give me a shot if I was fully untangled from the Black Angels. That wouldn’t be easy—biker gangs didn’t take well to men walking away. Someone in my position didn’t really quit them. But I’d spent a lot of time inside, a ton of time getting to know the good and the bad of everyone. And I had a few chips I could play. A few favors I could call in.

  One big one that I’d never even considered…before now.

  As I drove past the hardware store, I saw a shadow move in the window above it. Someone in the apartment going about their day. I wanted to be there, be one of those shadows. Wanted to pick up Beckett from school at the end of the day and find out what he’d learned. Wanted to take advantage of those kid-free hours with Mercy’s hot little body wrapped around mine. I wanted lots of time with her, just talking and touching and being a couple. I wanted everything.

  And fuck any past promises, but I was going to get it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  MERCY

  PLANNING a wedding that wasn’t yours while trying to deal with the heartache of walking away from the first man I’d felt anything even close to romantic for in a lot of years was practically some form of torture. One I inflicted on myself with a single-minded focus and dedication no one could have argued about.

  “So, the florist will be here at two tomorrow to deliver the wildflowers, and Katie’s made space in the walk-in for them to sit while we decorate the dining area.” I added a bullet to my to-do list to call the florist in the morning just in case, then handed Shye the photograph we’d used to place our order. “I’ve confirmed the color palette is the same as what you see here.”