Sabotage: A Vigilante Justice Novel

by Kristin Harte

  “Pussy is never simple,” the sniper said, sounding far too sage for the man I knew him to be. “And your idea of family is fucked up. Tiny deserved to die, so he’s dead. It was as simple as that.”

  Cartel did not look happy with that answer. “We take care of our own in the Black Angels.”

  “Bullshit,” I said, barging my way back into the conversation before Deacon—the former Special Forces soldier—could light the man up about what taking care of your own actually meant. “You left those men you call brother to hang in the wind with a shit leader and a lot of fucking danger on their heels. You don’t get to call them your family. And I’m done calling you mine.” I dropped the Black Angels patch I’d been holding, my last official club item, on the tabletop and pushed it to the center, right underneath that damned pendant light, for Cartel to see. Never say he was the only showman in the club. “I’m done with the Black Angels. For good.”

  “You think you can walk away?” Cartel asked, his voice rising and growing shrill. “No one just leaves the family. I know you’ve been banging that chick at the hardware store—”

  I grabbed the knife from my pocket and thumbed it open, stabbing the man in the hand and basically pinning him in place at the table. Deacon moved right along with me, almost in concert. As if we’d planned this out—which we actually had. He hopped to his feet, letting me deal with Cartel while he focused on the two guards, firing off three shots and, hopefully, hitting the two men who’d been at the bar with kill shots. I wasn’t done with Cartel yet, though, so I couldn’t be bothered to check on his success. Instead, I dove across the table and grabbed the warlord by the throat, yanking him closer. Getting right up in his face so he couldn’t even see past me to know what the fuck was happening across the room.

  “I’m going to tell you one time,” I said, making sure each word I spoke was imbued with my rage. “You go anywhere near that girl, you send anyone to Justice, you step one foot into Colorado ever again, and I won’t just kill you. I’ll fucking gut you and make you eat your own entrails.”

  Cartel’s face had grown awfully red, and he seemed to have trouble breathing. Poor guy.

  I tightened my grip on his neck. “Don’t bother talking because I’m through listening to you. I spent five years in prison for this club. For you. My sister died because of a club war you started. You disrespected the brotherhood, the nomad patch I earned, and the club as a whole, but asked for more. I am done. I have given enough to you.”

  Cartel coughed, spitting on me as he choked and forcing me to loosen my hold just a bit. “You will live to regret this.”

  The man never had been smart about self-preservation, and I wasn’t about to start a new life with my old one throwing such huge shadows. “Then I guess you won’t live at all.”

  I shoved him back into the booth and pulled my gun, pointing it straight at Cartel’s head. But I didn’t shoot. That man had been a huge, negative part of my life for so long, it almost felt wrong to give him such an easy way out. To let him die a quick death.

  “He won’t ever stop,” Deacon said, coming to stand behind me as I stared at the cowering warlord across the table. As if my pause were born of indecision. “You let him walk, and he’ll be back.”

  “I know. I was just thinking this is too easy for him. He deserves to suffer more.”

  Deacon reclaimed his seat, frowning Cartel’s way. “You think? Because we’ve got plans tonight, and I really would hate to be late.”

  True, and at the end of the day, the how didn’t matter. Just like with Wolf, no matter who pulled the trigger or how they died, all that mattered was they were gone for good. “You’re right. Say goodbye, Cartel.”

  His eyes widened. “Parris, don’t—”

  A single gunshot quieted him right down.

  Deacon moved to stand beside me, looking over the table as Cartel’s blood spread. Watching the same macabre sight I was. Finally, he sighed.

  “We just invited a shitshow, didn’t we?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. I’ve got an out.”

  “An out?”

  “Yeah. The national prez owes me a favor, and I’m calling it in.”

  Deacon didn’t seem convinced. “Must be some big fucking favor.”

  “I stopped his assassination—so yeah, big.”

  “Well, okay then.” He blew out a breath and cracked his neck. “Might as well tell his boss he was in on the whole selling kids thing as well. Make it real easy to cut ties with him.”

  Motherfucker, this man was brilliant. “Are you serious?”

  “Cartel said it himself—trafficking kids isn’t an approved activity for the club. Once your prez hears that not only was Cartel doing business with Soul Suckers who were in that sick shit, but also bringing legal attention on the club for it?” He tsked and shook his head, exaggerating the sound and motion for my benefit. “He’ll be glad to be rid of the bastard.”

  Yeah. I had no doubt about that. “You are one smart SOB, you know that?”

  “I do. Tell Alder—he needs to remember to bask in my greatness sometimes.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  Deacon and I worked side by side to clean up our mess, which involved a fuckton of accelerant, a broken propane cylinder, and what was essentially a Molotov cocktail made from a bottle of Jack Daniel’s we killed to celebrate the end of what we considered a successful mission. We changed out of our clothes, piling the dirty ones in the middle of the floor and dousing them in gasoline. Left the guns behind too. No sense having that particular trail leading to either of us. It took long enough to finish setting the bar up to burn that the sun was just starting to bathe the sky in the golden tone of sunset as we stepped outside. Deacon took the honor of actually lighting the place up, tossing the cocktail in through the window before hauling ass across the parking lot for his truck. It didn’t take long for smoke to pour out as the fire really began to build. We just had to wait for the place to go boom.

  I leaned against the truck, watching the sky darken over the bar. Looking out across all that dead lumber in the distance. “Should we be worried about a forest fire?”

  “It’s handled.”

  That, I hadn’t known. “Handled how?”

  “I know people.” Deacon shrugged, as if having people to come deal with a fire where bodies burned inside was totally normal. “They’ll be here in a few to keep the fire contained.”

  “Sounds like loose threads that could come back to tangle us up.”

  “They’re Zane’s guys. They can be trusted.”

  Zane, the sheriff who’d help us save Mercy and Beckett from Tiny. Yeah. They could be trusted, all right.

  Just then, a loud boom came from within the bar, the entire building seeming to expand and then collapse back in on itself. I almost wanted to applaud with how well that whole thing had gone.

  “Looks like we’re done.”

  “Yup.” Deacon slid into the driver’s seat of his truck and waited until I got in on my side to start the engine. “By the way, again with the entrails?”

  “I like to be consistent.”

  “You like to be dramatic.” He rolled out of the lot, leaving the burning building behind us. Leaving my past there, too.

  Parris of the Black Angels had died in that fire, right along with Cartel and his two guards. And I was going to prove it. “Yeah, well…you want to see drama, just wait.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m getting my girl back.”

  Deacon’s smile grew slowly, as if he were fighting it. “How you going to do that?”

  That was the question of the day. “Don’t know exactly, but first things first—I gotta get a fucking suit for this wedding.”

  “You got a week, son.” He pressed on the gas, speeding down the highway toward Justice. “Speaking of which, we’re late. If there’s one thing I am loath to do, it is break my word. I promised Shye I’d be there to keep Alder in line. I can’t let her down.”

  For
Alder and Shye’s joint bachelor/bachelorette party at Katie’s restaurant. The one I’d only found out about the day before yesterday. The one Deacon had basically demanded I attend…as his date. Where Mercy would definitely be and likely Beckett, too.

  Oh hell, why the fuck not?

  “Let’s go, then.” But Deacon’s little comment about keeping his word struck something inside of me, a deal I’d almost forgotten about. A bit of information in a little black book I’d snapped a picture of for safekeeping. I had one more thing I needed to do as Parris, one more promise to fulfill. One more favor to put in my pocket for later. I sent the picture in question to a friend, asking if he had any information on the man. I had the last known location of the Soul Sucker named Coyote who Finn Kennard had been chasing and had traded in some larger favors to have him redirected—I just needed to confirm that plan was in play.

  I didn’t expect an answer right away, so I tucked my phone into my pocket and hoped to make it to the party in time. I had a new life to begin, starting right then.

  “By the way—my name’s Chase. Chase Fowler.”

  Deacon glanced my way, not at all surprised by that particular subject change. “Nice to meet you, Chase. Welcome to Justice.”

  Yeah, that sounded good.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  MERCY

  BACHELOR AND BACHELORETTE parties had never been my thing. Not that I’d gone to many of them, but there had been a few drunken nights with friends celebrating upcoming nuptials before Beckett had come along. The whole wearing penises and watching strange men strip for money had never appealed, though. Thankfully, that wasn’t anything like what Alder and Shye were doing. In fact, this might have been the only bachelor/bachelorette party I would have ever felt comfortable taking Beckett to. He’d even gotten his own invitation.

  “Beckett,” I yelled as I clipped my earrings into place. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Mommy.” My buddy came racing into the bathroom with a huge smile on his face. “Mister Gage came to walk us to the party. Can I go downstairs to show him my ramp-jumping skills?”

  One bike, and my kid had somehow become a BMX champion in his mind. “Sure. But don’t get dirty, okay?”

  “Okay.” He took off, disappearing down the hall in a blur of motion and stomping feet.

  “And stay with Mister Gage!” I yelled, the idea of him being out of my sight not sitting well with me. I still wasn’t over the incident at Sam’s house, still couldn’t stand to be away from Beckett for more than his school hours, and even those were spent with my worrying. In fact, I had no intention of letting him out of my sight for long tonight. I needed to finish getting ready and join him in the alley.

  I applied a little extra pink lipstick and took one last look in the mirror. Good enough. It wasn’t as if I were going to find some sort of sexy Prince Charming at the party anyway. A thought that stabbed a little in all sorts of places I didn’t want to think about.

  “Could be worse,” I said to my reflection, tidying up the counter before turning for the door. “You could be forced to wear a tiara covered in dicks tonight.”

  Feet in painful heels that I’d likely kick off at some point in the evening and keys in hand, I headed downstairs. The wrap dress I wore was one of my favorites because it showed off my figure without being too revealing. If I were being honest, I’d have to admit that I’d picked it in the hope Parris would show up at Katie’s tonight. Not that I was about to be honest with myself. My pretty dress had nothing to do with that man.

  And I was a damn liar.

  I also was not prepared to see the man in question when I made it to the alley.

  And—oh, my heart—he was working with Beckett on his ramp jump.

  “Mommy,” Beckett yelled, his smile lighting up the entire alley. “Mister Parris came to visit me.”

  “I see that.” I crossed my arms over my chest, covering myself as if that could keep the man from affecting my heart. “How about we head down to the party, buddy? We’re already late, and Uncle Alder will be waiting for you.”

  “Okay.” He jumped off his bike and bumped knuckles with Parris. “Thanks for the help. I’m getting good, right?”

  “You totally are, little man. You’ll be tearing up the trails come spring.” Parris rose to his feet, watching with me as Beckett practically skipped down the alley. Inching closer, too. “He looks good.”

  God, his voice made everything inside of me clench. “He is.”

  “No nightmares or anything?”

  “Only for a night or two. He seems to be back to his normal self now.”

  “Good, that’s good.” Parris led the way toward the rear entrance to The Baker’s Cottage, his steps slow and measured. Not pushing me to go any faster than I planned to. “And how are you, Mercy?”

  Mercy. Not beauty. I had no idea his using my real name could hurt, but it did.

  “I’m fine.”

  He chuckled. “Woman, I am not so ignorant as to believe you mean fine when you say fine.”

  I laughed along with him, unable to argue the point. But the moment passed, the lightheartedness dissipating in the chilly October night. Left in its wake? An emptiness that I’d been battling all week.

  One I was tired of fighting. “I thought you’d left.”

  “Nope.”

  One word. That was all he gave me. Which would never be enough.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I made your boy a promise, and I’m keeping it.” He gave me that look—the one that sizzled, the one that made my pulse quicken and my breaths come faster. “I made you one, too.”

  Oh, my heart. He was going to steal it if I wasn’t careful enough to hide it.

  “Parris, I—”

  “Don’t tell me no just yet. I know I need to do some apologizing, maybe even some groveling.” He bumped my shoulder softly, releasing me from his gaze. “But that’s going to have to wait for a few more hours. Tonight isn’t about my fuckups and all the things I’m going to do to fix them. It’s about Alder and Shye, and I respect that. I’ll start on you tomorrow.”

  He walked me the rest of the way to the restaurant in silence. Not really together. Not at all apart. He never pushed for more, though. Never demanded anything I wasn’t already giving him, which at that point was nothing more than my time. And when we reached the door, he held it open for me before circling my arm as he moved past. His warm hand massaging my flesh, the touch half tease, half demand, and altogether confusing. And then he used his other hand to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, and I almost swooned. This man.

  “I know you’re going to be helping Katie tonight, so I’ll leave you alone. But you look good, Mercy. Damn good.” He gave my traitorous arm—the one that liked his touch far too much—another squeeze. “Grab me if you need anything. I’ll be walking you home.”

  Then he was gone, and I was left to pull myself together. To watch him walk away while the scent of him still lingered around me. Damn that man and his smell and touch and heat. His stupid charming nature. He could get under my skin like no other, but nothing had really changed, had it? He was still Parris, and I was still a mom who couldn’t let my son be around someone so dangerous.

  Nothing had changed. Not even my feelings for the man.

  I did not have time to worry about all that.

  “Okay, Katie,” I said, lifting my chin and striding into the work area of the kitchen, shoving all thoughts of Parris and bikers and lost chances out of my mind. “We’ve got half an hour before this thing truly starts. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  PARRIS

  MERCY BELL WEARING that dress and those shoes was going to be the death of me. No fucking doubt about it. She looked good. Too good. I was going to be fighting a hard-on all night long, not exactly what I’d planned for the evening.

  “Parris,” Gage said as he sidled up beside me and handed me a beer. “What’s doing?”

  “Not mu
ch, man.” I nodded my thanks and took a swig, looking over the room. “Katie’s done a great job here tonight.”

  “She always does. You planning on sticking around now that the Black Angels are gone?”

  Direct. To the point. No bullshit. I liked that. “Yup.”

  He nodded. “Good. Because that kid is like family.”

  I got his point. Quite clearly, in fact. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  His dark eyes locked on to Katie as she appeared from the kitchen, a dog following along behind her as if on guard duty. Which he likely was, knowing Gage.

  “Any worries about tonight?” I looked over the room, finding Beckett quickly enough but not Mercy. “Anything I need to watch out for?”

  “Just the usual.” Gage sighed and shook his head. “I told her not to carry those big trays. Her hand is still healing.”

  I followed his gaze, spotting Katie and the big tray in question. She looked capable enough, but that didn’t mean much with a man like Gage. Not that I could blame him—if it had been Mercy carrying something that large, I’d have been rushing across the room to help her.

  “Go on,” I said, nodding toward the woman. “You know you want to.”

  “She’s cranky with me right now.” He settled back, the tension around him almost a physical thing. “Says I’ve been too helpful, as if that’s a thing.”

  “She’s healing, you said.”

  “Yeah, from a nasty burn. Her hand still gets tired.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll go in your place.”

  Gage whipped his head in my direction, that near-black stare deadly. “She won’t want you to help her.”

  “So? Then she gets cranky with me instead of you. I see that as a win on your part. Besides, I owe you for taking care of Mercy and Beckett while I’ve been—”

  “Stuck with your head up your ass?”