by Brook Wilder
“Exactly,” I said, blinking back the tears. It wasn’t the time to cry. “I was so mad at him for not telling me what was going on, when in reality, it wasn’t my business. I was, well, I was scared I would lose him.”
“Oh honey,” Sabrina said, patting my hand. “That’s a normal feeling for all of us I’m afraid. The club, it’s dangerous and it’s taken me a long time to get past the fact that Harrison goes out and risks his life for this brotherhood. I’m so afraid that one day he won’t come back but at least he will know that I love him more than anything on this earth.”
Her words didn’t help. I hadn’t told Damian. I had turned my back on him and left him alone to make that trek alone, thinking that I didn’t care.
I cared too damn much.
I pushed out of the swing. “I have to find him. I have to tell him.”
Sabrina stood with me. “Come on. I’ll take you to the club. If he’s still around, he will be there. The man practically lived there before he met you.”
Before I ruined both of our lives. In a flurry of activity, we climbed in Sabrina’s car and drove to the club, which was already hopping. We ran into Harrison right outside the door, his eyes widening as he saw us.
“Sabrina, what are you doing here?”
She stuck out her tongue at him. “It’s my club, too, you know. I can come whenever I want.”
His expression softened and I drew in a tortured breath at the love in his eyes.
“I know, babe. I am just surprised to see you, I guess.”
“Where’s Machine Gun?” Sabrina asked as he drew her to his side. “We really need to talk to him.”
“Machine Gun?” Harrison said, looking over at me. “He’s gone.”
My shoulders slumped. He couldn’t be. It had only been hours since I had walked away. Surely he wasn’t going…
Oh no. “He went on that mission, didn’t he?”
Harrison had the gall to look embarrassed. “Well, yeah he did. He’s not the type of guy who lets a mission go unfinished.”
“He’s going to get himself killed,” I cried out, startling them both. “Don’t you see? I-I broke his heart. We can’t just let him go out there!”
Harrison looked ill. “Come on,” he said, turning toward the club. “We got to talk to Chains.”
I followed him through the crowded club to the office, where Rex and his wife were having a pretty heated discussion.
“Elisa,” he said, startled. “What are you doing here?”
“We have to go after Damian,” I said firmly, keeping my emotions at bay. “He’s going to sacrifice himself, I just know it.”
Rex raised his hand, halting my words. “Wait. What are you talking about?”
“The mission,” I said, my voice breaking. “We had a fight and he said he had to go and complete this mission. I’m afraid he’s going to do it even if it kills him.”
“Oh no,” Widow Maker breathed as she looked at her husband. “What did he say when he came here?”
Rex looked uneasy, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Well, that he had to finish the mission for her sake.”
I was stunned. “What would I have to do with it?”
“I think Voodoo threw you into the lot of his targets,” Rex added, sheepish. “A man will do anything to protect those he loves.”
“You idiot,” Widow Maker breathed, glaring at her husband. “You let him go?”
“Not alone,” he answered. “We sent the guys ahead, remember? He’s got more protection this time than he did before.”
I wanted to pull my hair out. “I have to go in.”
“No,” both of them said simultaneously. “This isn’t your fight.”
“But the man I love is attempting to fight it himself,” I argued. “And I can’t have that.” I needed to see Damian, to let him know how sorry I was and how much I loved him. He needed to know that he wasn’t alone anymore, that I understood what he was trying to do. “Don’t you care about him?”
“Of course we do,” Rex snapped, his eyes flashing. “I tried, hell I tried to talk him out of it but he’s too damn stubborn.”
“If we go in now, we are gonna need some firepower,” Crankshaft added, leaning against the doorway. “I can call up Gun Jesus.”
“Shit,” Rex said, looking at his wife. “What do you think?”
Widow Maker looked at me, biting her lip. “I think we have to go. Elisa’s right. Machine Gun is on a mission to get his ass killed and end this once and for all. He needs to know we want him alive and well instead.”
“Like a damn therapist,” Rex muttered. “Fine. Get Gun Jesus on the phone. We are going to need heavy guns and a damn chopper to chase down the other. They got a few hours on us.”
“I’ll radio into the others,” Widow Maker said, pulling out a cell phone from her pocket. “They can tighten their positions when they see him and try to stave off any incoming fights.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“This is for him,” Rex said, slumping his shoulders. “We can’t take another loss to the club.”
I knew it ran deeper than that, but I kept my mouth shut, my hands clenched together. We were going after Damian.
In the span of an hour, I was boarding a chopper with Rex, Widow Maker, and Harrison, bound for Mexico.
Chapter 21
Damian
Near Ciudad Juarez, Mexico
The chopper set down in the field and I hopped out, staying low to the ground to avoid the rotors. It was dark, the city lights twinkling below. It would have been beautiful, but all I could think about was that it would make it difficult to get off a good shot.
Voodoo followed me a fair distance away, shoving his hands in his pockets as I slung my bag on my shoulder.
“You do this right, I’ll keep my word and back off, alright?”
I grinned, though I felt hollow inside. “You trying to be nice to me now?”
He lifted the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you’ve grown on me. How about don’t get yourself killed and we can have a beer after this? No hard feelings?”
I just shook my head. “That will be a long shot, but yeah, a beer sounds good.”
The CIA agent clapped me on the shoulder. “Spoken like a true soldier, Private. We will be here, waiting to take you back once it’s done. I hear you have backup this time around.”
Remembering Chains’s promise, I nodded. “Yeah in case shit goes down.”
Voodoo’s smile faded. “Sorry I can’t give you a better location. Intel sucks this time. Just keep your head down and do this shit, alright?”
I gave him a grin as I walked away, feeling my stomach turn. Polanco could be somewhere in one section of the city, a section heavily patrolled by the cartel. I was literally walking into enemy territory.
The Glocks at my side gave me some minor comfort, knowing that I could pull them in seconds once I found Polanco. There probably wasn’t going to be much time to set up the rifle on my back, but I had brought it just in case.
After all, I was going back to war.
Walking along the road leading to the city, I was glad for the cover of the traffic going into the city. I had worn the fatigues again, keeping my head down so that anyone who passed wouldn’t think anything of a soldier walking into the city for his night shift. The AK draped across my chest was the same kind the military carried, though I hoped not to use it unless absolutely necessary.
It wasn’t my preferred choice of weapon.
Well, one thing was for sure, if I did get out of this shit alive, I was going to have to find something else to do. I had given it a lot of thought and these missions no longer gave me the thrill they once did. Maybe it was because of Elisa, but I was, well, I was fucking tired of killing people like this. Hell, I wouldn’t even be doing this one if the club and Elisa’s future wasn’t riding on it.
Damn, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. If I did die, would she mourn me? Would she come to whatever funeral I was given?
/>
Would she cry over my casket and wish for more time with me or would she wipe her hands and close that chapter in her life?
She had already done that. I wasn’t so much hurt by her words about Will’s death. Hell, I had been responsible and had wrestled with that for years. If I hadn’t put that kid on that chopper, paid more attention to my surroundings instead of thinking about the cold shower waiting for us back at base, he and the others would still be alive.
Of course, the good ol’ US government had deemed it a tragic accident, honorably discharging me with a pat on the back, but I felt like it was so much more than that.
But no amount of guilt was gonna bring him back either. I had come to terms with his death a few years ago, after a visit to his grave. There I had shed some tears over the loss of my best friend, telling him about the club and the business I was doing for them. I had asked for his forgiveness and told him I would do all I could to make him proud of me and never forget him.
That was before Elisa had fallen into my life.
If only I had handled that differently. Now I wished I hadn’t driven away today.
Turning the corner, I stopped cold when I saw my target up ahead, standing in a semi-circle with a group of men who I assumed to be his bodyguards. He had bandages on his arm and face, which made me glad I’d blown up that tanker if it had caused him pain.
But it didn’t bode well for me to see the men around him. That was a lot of gunfire to have to pick through and make sure that I hit my target.
Damn. Not what I was hoping for.
Pulling out my glock, I checked it before I crossed the street, finding a decent vantage point that I might could do some damage from. It was going to be the best shot I had, but unfortunately didn’t provide a lot of cover in the meantime.
I was a sitting duck.
Drawing in a breath, I held my gun at my side while the men laughed and smoked their cigars. I would have one shot before all hell broke loose.
One shot.
Aiming my glock, I found my target, keeping him in my sight. One bullet through the brain.
Then I would have to duck the rest and get back to a safe place so that Voodoo could extract me.
Easy as pie.
Closing my eyes briefly, I pictured Elisa’s face, hoping she would be the last image I saw if something bad went down.
She would never know how much I loved her. Sure, I had written it in the letter I had left her, but to tell her in person, that should have been the plan.
Instead we had torn each other apart with our words.
There was nothing I could do about it now. Opening my eyes, I fired the gun, watching as the bullet whizzed across the street and struck Polanco on the cheek, missing his forehead by a good few inches.
Shit.
There were shouts and guns fired in my direction, striking the building that I had taken cover beside. I squeezed off a few rounds myself, realizing that the alley I had chosen was a complete dead end.
My only hope was to run out into the street, back the way I came.
Great.
Taking a few breaths, I grabbed my other glock before I stepped out, firing at anyone firing back. A bullet bit into my thigh and I nearly went down, gritting my teeth against the pain as I moved left, back up the road that led to the outskirts of town. My movements felt slow as I emptied the clips, dropping the guns before firing the AK around my neck.
The next bullet hit my side and I gasped at the red-hot lightning that shot through my body. Shit. I was going to die out here.
Backing up the best I could, I fired a few rounds, catching a few of the guys with the spray of bullets. My vision was starting to waver, meaning I was losing a lot of blood and I knew once I went down, I was a dead man.
But then, behind me, came the roar of a chopper and a hail of bullets, striking the others shooting at me. “Come on!” a voice called, forcing me to turn around.
Chains was standing there, firing over my shoulder and motioning for me to come his way.
The shit must have hit the fan if he was here. “Get your ass moving!” he shouted again. “Get down!”
I turned and fired the rest of the bullets out of the AK, taking down two more on the street. My leg felt heavy and I was forced to drag it toward Chains, gritting my teeth with each step. I wasn’t going to make it.
An arm slipped around my waist and I fought through the haze as Crankshaft’s face swam in front of me. “Shit, man, you’re not a target,” he muttered, forcing me along.
“I feel like one,” I forced out, my tongue thick in my mouth. I was dying. That was the only thing that could be happening. I had been shot before, but it never felt like this.
“You look like one,” he said, though there was serious concern in his voice.
There was a volley of gunfire all around now, coming from both sides and I wanted to look back to see who was winning and if Polanco had been taken down.
If he hadn’t, that meant I had failed again. Failed not only the mission, but the club and Elisa.
Finally, we reached the chopper and I was pulled in, my back resting on the metal floorboard.
“He’s losing a shit load of blood,” Crankshaft said, pulling in behind me.
There was a motion on the chopper before Elisa’s face loomed over me.
“Elisa?” I asked roughly, finding it hard to speak.
“Oh God, why did you do this?” she asked. “You’re full of bullet holes.”
I winced as she slapped her hand over the wound on my thigh, my head fuzzy. I was going to lose conscious shortly, no matter how much I fought it.
“Target practice,” I said weakly.
She let out a half laugh, half sob as a packet of bandages replaced her hand and I was alarmed by the sight of my blood on her hands. Shit, I really was dying.
“Why?” she asked as she found the wound on my side.
I reached up the best I could and cupped her cheek, giving her what I hoped was a smile. “Damn, you’re gorgeous.”
Elisa leaned into my touch briefly. “And you are hallucinating.”
The chopper lifted suddenly, and I closed my eyes against the sudden onslaught of bile in the back of my throat. I wasn’t about to upchuck in front of her.
“How is he?” Chains was asking, his voice very faint. “Shit. He’s a fucking mess.”
I lifted a corner of my mouth, struggling to open my eyes. I felt so tired, so weary. “I always am.”
Chains made a sound before Elisa came back into view, her face blurred. “Please hold on, Damian. We will be at the hospital in a few minutes.”
“Trying,” I forced out, the dark playing on the edges of my vision. “Love you.” She needed to know in case this was the end.
Elisa’s mouth was moving but my hearing had quit working and I closed my eyes, feeling my body go cold. I was dying.
But I had gotten my last wish.
I had seen Elisa’s face in my last moments.
**
I opened my eyes to the bright sun, squinting. Damn it was like someone had turned on a bright light in my eyes, the ones they used for those cheesy police shows to interrogate people with.
“What are you doing here?”
Turning in the direction of Will’s voice, I found him sitting next to me, his expression pensive. “I’m fucking dead, aren’t I?” I forced out, my throat closing.
“Not yet,” he admitted, stretching out his legs. “But you will be if you don’t go back.”
“Why am I here?” I asked, my body feeling as if it were floating on warm water.
“I don’t know, man,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t make the rules, but I’m glad I get to see you again. I’ve missed you.”
The walls of ice around my heart crumbled. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“I’ve also seen what you’ve gotten into,” he said with a chuckle. “I approve in case you are worried.”
“Good,” I answered, tears clogging my throat, making it har
d to speak. “I hope you know I love her.”
“I know you do,” he grinned. “Take care of her, will you? I’m always there, watching out for the both of you.”
The bright light grew, and I had to squint again to see Will, the edges of his form blurring. “Don’t go.” I had so much to tell him, so much I wanted him to hear.
So much to apologize for.
