by Ada Stone
“Bitch,” he got out between ground teeth, pushing past me.
I winced at the word. Nick wasn’t one to use derogatory words against me, but he wasn’t above it when he thought it was warranted. It hurt to think he thought I deserved that term, but at the same time, I thought maybe I did, too.
I turned to face him again, but his back was too me. I saw the muscles ripple beneath his tight white shirt and felt the heat on my face as soon as I realized how much I liked the sight.
He ran his hands through his dark hair almost savagely.
“So what the fuck was all of this?” Nick finally asked after a long pause.
I frowned at me. “All this?” I repeated, gesturing about my house as though that was what he was talking about.
He made a frustrated sound. “This. Us,” he clarified, and I felt my heart sink.
I shook my head, but of course he couldn’t see that. It was just that I didn’t know what to say. How was I supposed to answer that? Us had meant everything to me, but that was a long time ago now. What was the point of bringing all that up again? Were we supposed to reminisce and feel all the things we had felt all those years ago only to have reality come crashing back down around our shoulders? How was that supposed to help with anything?
When I didn’t answer, Nick turned around to face me again. There were deep lines in his otherwise youthful face, his full lips pulled down into a heavy frown that was almost more like a defeated sigh. I wasn’t stupid; I knew he was still mad at me, but there was something else there, too.
Hurt.
“What do you want me to say?” I finally asked him, almost letting my arms drop to my side again tiredly, but remembering that the ring was there and worried that it would set him off all over again. Not that this was exactly better, but still.
He let out a whoosh of air. “I want you to remember that time I took you to the movies and you were shocked that it was an outdoor thing with the blankets on the grass and everything. And when it rained everyone freaked out and left except for us. We stayed and made out in the rain, because that’s what you fucking do when you’re…”
He broke off, but he didn’t have to finish. I already knew what he was going to say because that was what I felt that night. In love. So in love that I didn’t care that a security guard shone his light down on us and told us that we needed to go, but seemed really embarrassed about the whole thing. So in love that I didn’t care that my dress was practically see through. So in love that I probably would have let Nick take me right then and there if we hadn’t been stopped.
In love. That was what Nick and I had clung to for so long before everything had suddenly fallen out beneath us.
In that moment, I wanted to tell him everything. But the truth teetered on the tip of my tongue and I couldn’t get it out. Not before his next words.
“Never fucking mind. I’m sorry I opened my damn mouth. In fact, I don’t know what the fuck I’m even doing here,” he said, biting each word off like it was a piece of jerky, tough and a little old and maybe too salty to be taking so many bites at a time. “The girl I’m looking for isn’t around anymore, is she?”
Before I had a chance to answer, to deal with the sudden swell of hurt that filled me, he was turning away. He left, slamming the door harshly behind him, and I was left to stare at the spot where he’d been.
It wasn’t the homecoming I would have hoped for all those years ago when he’d first been put away, but time changes things and people, and I knew that under the circumstances I had no right to ask for more. How could I tell him what really happened?
No, I couldn’t afford to risk Nick or anyone else, so my secret had to stay secret.
Chapter Three
Nick
I drove around angrily for most of the night. Hurt and fury built inside until I was a monster of my own rage, blinded by it until it was probably unsafe for me to be driving, but I didn’t care. I needed my freedom and I needed time to work through what Zoe had told me tonight.
How could it be Sal? How could she, of all people, knowing what a goddamned monstrous snake he was, go to him? And she told me she couldn’t date a criminal. So what the hell was she doing sleeping with a fucking wretch like that?
My stomach twisted and knotted uncomfortably at the thought of them together, lying and twisting and writhing in pleasure. I could imagine the look on Sal’s face, warped with pleasure as Zoe’s eyes stared up at him, switching between vengeful ecstasy and remorseful pleading.
I felt bile rise in my throat and had to force it back. I swallowed it down, determined to keep my cool and my sanity alike.
After the sun finally crested the horizon, I went back to Jordan’s. He was pacing nervously, like some damn mother hen, when I got back and it was clear that he was both waiting for me and dreading the moment when I would arrive. He stopped his pacing as I walked through the door and waited for what he must have sensed was coming.
My eyes narrowed at him dangerous. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
He chewed on his inner cheek and his lower lip until it looked like he was mangling them both in his mouth like dinner, preparing to regurgitate them for his newborn. After a moment, he released his lip and sighed, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his thinning brown hair, working through every nervous tick he had before finally addressing my question.
“Things were hard when you were in the slammer. They changed, you know?” he began by way of both explanation and appealing to my sense of justice and righteousness. I wasn’t sure I had those things anymore, but I tried to stay calm and reminded myself that revenge wasn’t really about shooting the messenger.
“Right, changed,” I spat, letting myself plop down onto his old, worn couch. I glanced at the stairs which led to the second floor. Jordan had a kid, but only part time and I didn’t know if the kid was here or not.
Jordan must have noticed my gaze, because he shook his head in answer. “No, Angel’s with her momma tonight. Meeting that new slab of meat that keeps trying to get her to call him daddy. I’ll break his fucking neck if he…” He broke off and shook his head, forcing his breath out in a heavy whoosh.
It looked like I wasn’t the only asshole having adjustment issues. “Focus,” I told him, bringing him back to the thing at hand. “Why the hell didn’t you guys tell me? If things were changing so badly, why leave them up in the air?”
Jordan shrugged again. He took a seat in the overstuffed chair, just as old as the couch and maybe matching or maybe just so faded you couldn’t tell one way or the other anymore, and leaned back in it. My tone had softened ever so slightly and it must have been enough to settle him, because he wasn’t as tense as he had been moments before. Not as tense and not prone to the same typical nervous ticks that he usually did when he knew something bad was coming.
“Because what could you do?” he answered finally after a long pause. “I mean, really? So we tell you, right? Then what? You come busting out of prison to kill Sal and Zoe both? That doesn’t really come off as a sound plan. Even if you could bust out, you’d go straight back, and for longer because of it. No, in the end, you couldn’t do a damn thing while you were in, so we decided it wasn’t a smart thing to tell you.” He shrugged again, apparently his move for the night. “We didn’t see the point in upsetting you any more than you already were.”
I rubbed at my eyes, suddenly feeling tired, burned out. I’d been out and back for only a day now and already it felt like the world was shifting beneath my feet. Was this really how things were?
Yes, I thought. And you’d better fucking learn to accept that, you chump, before things get worse. Before you look weak.
Running my hands through my hair, I thought about my options. There were things that I obviously needed to do. The top on my list was get revenge on Sal. Despite what Zoe thought—or claimed she thought; I’d seen the hesitation, the uncertainty in her eyes—I was convinced that Sal was behind my getting put away. She could redirect the blame all
she wanted—yes, I’d gone with the plan, yes, I’d done a thousand drug deals over the years—but in the end there was only one man I could truly blame for what had happened to me.
Sal Davis.
But the thing about revenge was it was easier said than done. I’d been intending to rally my guys and take down Sal the old fashioned way, but my encounter with Zoe had changed my opinion on a few things. Maybe hitting Sal where it hurt wasn’t just about the club, though I decided quickly I would have to start there.
It just wouldn’t end there as I’d originally planned.
Looking up at Jordan again, I asked, “How many are still loyal?”
He looked up at me in surprise at my question, almost like he’d forgotten I was there. Maybe he had, lost in his own thoughts about the dad who was muscling in on his girl or the woman he never could hold on to. “Heaven’s Wrath?” he questioned, though he surely already knew the answer.
I nodded. “Yeah, how many stuck around?”
He hesitated, running a hand once more through his hair. It was getting thinner than I remembered, though he was only a couple of years older than me. He’d always gotten the short stick as far as hair went and eventually he’d just shave it all off. He just didn’t want to, so he was trying to hold on to what little he still had, almost desperately.
He chewed on his lip again, telling me that he really didn’t want to answer me.
I let out a sigh. “Just tell me, Jordan. I already know that we lost a few. I need numbers to know where I stand.”
He finally managed to meet my gaze and I saw what might have been pity there. “We lost more than a few.”
I tensed at that. “How many more?”
Sighing, he shook his head, slumping forward until his elbows were on his knees and he could use his hands to scrape along his scruffy face. “Over half.”
My eyebrows must have hit the roof, I was so shocked. Sure, I’d factored in losing a few. Heaven’s Wrath had been pretty loyal, all things considered, but taking a hit like your leader going to prison was a hefty thing and I didn’t really fault guys for shying away after the fact. A record like being busted for drug deals could do wonders for your reputation, but it also meant that every cop in the area knew who to look for first when something was going down.
But over half? I had expected at least some loyalty from my boys, and the idea that so many had just shrugged their shoulders and headed for the hills, well, it hurt in unexpected ways. I had at least been prepared in some small way for the betrayal of Zoe. No, I hadn’t been expecting her to be shacking up with that crook Sal Davis, but at least I had known we were over when I got out.
But this? How could I have known that I would lose so many of my brothers after being gone for a measly five years? It just didn’t seem right.
“Over half,” I repeated as though I’d simply misheard him—or he was out of his goddamn mind.
“Yeah, boss, over half,” Jordan confirmed in an unfortunate tone that told me just how much he hated being the one to tell me. “A lot of ’em, well, they freaked out. ’Specially the ones who haven’t done time yet. The ones who were young and stupid anyway—we can do without ’em.”
He was working hard to cheer me up, I could tell, but I thought some part of him honestly felt that way, too. Jordan had done time himself. He’d spent four years in prison and done an additional two years of probation, so he knew the system and he despised it. It meant he was both terrified and not afraid at all. He never wanted to go back, would probably rather go out in a blaze of glory than get thrown in the slammer all over again, but he also knew he could do it. He could survive it and he would for that little girl of his.
I let out a heavy sigh, trying to collect myself. I needed a plan, and knowing how few people I had left made that plan a little more difficult, even as other parts of it were starting to come together.
“Alright, well, who do we have left?” I asked as calmly as I could. I could feel the now familiar bubble of anger overtaking my chest cavity, like an ulcer, the worst kind of heartburn, tearing through my system, unwilling to let me be.
Jordan thought a moment. “Well, most of the guys don’t really come around anymore, you know? We haven’t had an official meeting in ages. Didn’t seem right without our leader,” he clarified hopefully, trying to gauge my reaction. When I only nodded, he pressed on. “But I keep in touch with the guys, keep tabs on who’s still around. The Bobby Boys are still with us, and so is Schumacher. Grease, Bones, and Wildcard, too. Few others. Some of the stubborn kids are still here, some of the old farts are out of the picture. You know, like Carlson, who decided he was just done with the whole fucking thing. Some headed off to other clubs, some moved out of the state, and some just retired.” He shrugged.
“So how many total?” I finally asked, forcing myself to be calm and collected about the whole thing.
Jordan took a minute to think about that. He counted on his fingers and in his head, adding up imaginary numbers. Finally, he fixed me with a pained look. “Fifty you can count on. Maybe seventy-five on the high side, but I wouldn’t push my luck with a lot of them. They’ll probably get on board when they know you’re out, but I wouldn’t put my money where my mouth was until you talked with them.”
I couldn’t say anything for a moment.
Fifty. After my club had grown to over two hundred, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the idea of only fifty. We’d gone through recruitment a few years back and nearly doubled our numbers. We were discussing expanding our territory. We were talking about taking over a few other dwindling clubs and maybe branching out into another city. We were thinking about becoming big, real big, and now? Now fifty was all I could count on.
The rage surfaced again and I wanted to kill someone. I wanted to kill a lot of someones in fact. I wanted to go after every asshole who’d thought he belonged, who’d taken advantage of our brotherhood and then pissed it to the wind because he decided that it got a little hard.
Revenge was starting to sound like a tall order as the list of people I needed to exact it upon grew.
But then the rage simmered down. I reminded myself that some of those guys were old, ready to retire when I’d been put up and lingered only for my sake. I reminded myself that some of them were just kids, too stupid to know what they wanted. I reminded myself that this had been a culling of sorts and the fifty men who were left were my hell riders. They were the men who I could count on no matter how rough or crazy things went.
It was a blessing in disguise, I told myself, though I wasn’t sure how true the words really were. I guessed it was time to find out.
Taking a deep, soothing breath, I let it out and finally fixed Jordan with a stare hard enough to make him flinch. “Alright. Then call the fifty. I want to see them all tonight at ten.”
Jordan’s eyes got huge for a second, then returned to normal as a slow, almost eager smile crossed his lips. He nodded. “Yeah, you got it, boss. Where we meeting?”
“Old stomping grounds,” I answered, thinking of where that little fucking club had started in the first place. “The old rock quarry out on Foch. I want a place where we can make some damn noise.”
Now Jordan was actually grinning and nodded. “I’m on it. Tonight, ten, the rock quarry.” He got up and pulled out his phone at the same time, already starting to dial up the fifty numbers he would have to call that day. He didn’t care that it was only a little after five in the morning. The fuckers would pick up and show up or they wouldn’t be my boys anymore, whether they’d stuck around or not.
I relaxed a little after Jordan left the room. I could hear his low voice drifting in from the other room, but didn’t pay much attention to it. Instead, I tried to push away the buzzing in my brain. There hadn’t been a whole hell of a lot of sleep for me in the past twenty-four hours and it was finally starting to catch up with me. I’d need sleep to stay focused, especially tonight.
Because tonight I’d remind them why I was leader of Heaven’s W
rath.
***
We drove separately because it was important for the sake of the meeting—appearances being far more important than I wanted to give them credit for—that we ride our separate motorcycles. Besides, it was still too much of a novelty for me to be on my own damn bike out in the world, free again, and for Jordan, well, I was starting to get the impression that he didn’t ride as much as he used to.
When I got there, Jordan tailing behind me, there were already several guys waiting. I was surprised, since we were half an hour early, and from the way Jordan had said it, there weren’t a whole hell of a lot of Heaven’s Wrath left in the end. But here they were, beginning what looked like a line of motorcycles right now but what would quickly turn into a circle surrounding the whole place.
