Spartan (Forsaken Sons MC Book 1)

by Jessica Joy

  Having a cop for a dad has finally paid off.

  The volley of gunfire, staccato pops, and thundering booms a counterpoint to each other continues as I watch Axel disappear. I can’t take it any longer, I can’t sit here in the corner and wait for someone to get shot. I need to do something.

  Easing my way out of my hiding spot, I make my way into the main portion of the shop, careful to stay close to the racks and benches for cover. I reach the first vat and duck behind the thick concrete half wall, looking toward the other end of the warehouse. Flashes and booms filling the building and sending shadows in a confusing pattern as all four men exchanging fire.

  Cracking wood, pinging metal, the splintering of concrete follows every shot, the fury of which seems unending.

  Maybe I need a little cover myself.

  I turn, walking along the back of some racking, the gunfire muffled thanks to the stacks of cardboard boxes, a new sound echoes through the din. A brief lull in the battle lets me hear it again.

  A cry. A scream. A baby.

  Evan.

  With a choked sob I run toward the sound, following the noise to the final row of the racks and roughly halfway down the row. There is a gap between two sets of shelves against the wall with four large plastic barrels grouped between them. I tear the lid off one of the barrels and look in, finding it empty. With a frantic growl I shove it out of the way and go to the next one. When I rip the lid off this one it comes off much more easily than I was expecting, having only been set on top but not sealed.

  I look inside and find a terrified Evan curled up at the bottom. There is a dirty fleece blanket lining the bottom and my sweet little boy is curled up on his side, his face almost purple from screaming so hard. A sob tears through me as I reach into the barrel and scoop him into my arms, clutching his shaking, crying form to my chest as I sink to my knees, my legs no longer able to hold me upright. His little body curls into me, realizing who is holding him. He continues to scream but he curls his little fists into my shirt and buries his head into my shoulder, seeking my reassuring comfort.

  All I can do is clutch him desperately to my chest, burying my face in his curls as I cover my mouth with my free hand in an attempt to stifle the frantic screaming sobs wracking my body. I need to get a hold on my emotions. Losing my shit like this isn’t an option right now. I can feel Evan ramping up even further as he soaks in the terror and tension rolling off me with my sobs. My whole body is shaking so hard I can hardly hold onto him.

  He's here. He’s safe. He’s here.

  I take four deep, steadying breaths, focusing on the expansion and contraction of my lungs in an effort to calm myself. When I finish the fourth breath, tears are still streaming down my face but I have a handle on myself enough to finally start comforting Evan.

  “It’s okay baby, mommies got you,” I mumble, into his ear over and over.

  Another round of fire echoes out, quieter but still startling Evan. But this time a single shot rings out, followed quickly by a sharp cry of pain. My gut wrenches.

  Sawyer!

  Chapter 29

  Sawyer

  As soon as that fucker called Tess a bitch, a renewed sense of determination fills me. I had planned to bring this sorry excuse of a human back with us, maybe have some fun with him before we put the fear of death into his head and dumping him in the middle of nowhere. Now? Now, he won’t be leaving this shop ever again.

  I signal to Remy to move our way through the building, attempting to corral the asshole toward the front. Where is Evan? The shithead must have him. We reach the back corner of the warehouse; I still don’t have eyes on the fucker. Something moving just out of my periphery catches my attention and I turn to see David crawling up the stairs to the catwalks. Remy pops off a few shots before I can react.

  “Hold! The boy!” I call out, the thought of Evan catching a stray bullet filling my veins with fire.

  “Don’t see nothing with him boss. He ain’t got the kid,” Remy calls back, no longer giving a shit about keeping our locations a secret. Well, alright then. David is now crawling up the last few feet of stairs on his hands and knees and Remy was right, I don’t see Evan with him.

  A fresh rattle of an automatic fire takes us by surprise from a cross aisle. We both dip behind some cover and throw some rounds at the muzzle flashes; rewarded with crash of boxes and a body falling into the light.

  “Fuck, where’s Evan?” I curse under my breath as I turn back to take aim at David again. I send a few rounds toward the shadows above, narrowly missing him as he scrambles down the catwalk. I mutter a string of curses as I make a run for the stairs and up onto the catwalk. I motion for Remy to take some pot shots to cover my approach and hide my noise.

  I’m halfway up the stairs before I’m forced to pause for a moment, plastering myself against the wall. I’m totally exposed and there is no cover going forward. My eyes adjust to the darkness hanging up here and I see David crouched and looking between the railings back toward from the crates Remy is hiding behind. Before I can react, David raises his arm and I can finally see the gun he’s got. Two shots ring out from his gun followed by a loud grunt and clatter. My eyes snap to the shop floor and see Remy stumble backward from his cover and catch himself on an open parts bin.

  “Take this you shit eaters!” I hear David call out as he takes aim again and blasts a round at Remy. I hear more than see the sickening crunch of his ribs and he falls limp to the floor.

  Fuckin’ fuck. No!

  My heart starts to pound, and my vision tightens, all I can see is the fifteen feet of catwalk between me and the hunched figure, everything else forgotten. With an audible growl, I rush the rest of the way up the stairs and start down the catwalk. Holding my pistol out in front of me, I start taking shots at the shadow, my hurried steps ruining my aim. David snaps his head toward me and falls backward, losing his balance. He snaps his gun up and pops off a shot, buzzing past my ear and burying itself into the wall behind me. I can see the fear cross his face as he attempts to stand back up.

  My stride doesn’t falter as I keep storming toward him. David is now frantically scrambling backward on all fours like a pathetic crab. In an attempt to hold some distance between us, he raises his arm again and his muzzle flashes, I don’t flinch. Pain blooms in my left shoulder, fire running down my arm and warmth spreading over my chest as I stumble back a step. David scrambles up in my momentary delay. A growl escapes my throat as I recover my stride, closing the distance.

  He glances over his shoulder, seeing the end of line, he turns and braces himself taking careful aim; I’m greeted with the hollow click of an empty magazine. David stares at the gun in betrayal and then fucking cocks his arm back and throws his gun at me, which is so poorly aimed I just watch it sail past me and fall to the floor below. The look of shock and fear on his face brings a cold smile to my lips.

  I have you now, you good for nothing shit-stain.

  I close the distance in a few bounds, dropping my pistol to the catwalk, as I plant my left foot, pivot my hips, and throw a punch with the full force of my body. My fist lands square in the middle of his dumbass face, nose crumpling, eyes crossing, and bones crunching as his head snaps back.

  I press relentlessly forward as he stumbles back a few steps and pound his stomach with another right, blasting the wind from him in a rush. He bends down to catch his breath and I move in, looking to knock him down but he snaps a poorly aimed uppercut that I catch with my left arm, grunting at the fresh burst of pain from the wound in my shoulder. I slam my forehead down on his crushed face and he howls in pain, stumbling backward to catch up against the end of the catwalk railing.

  David falls back against the rusted metal railing and pulls himself up straight, somehow defiant in the face of my onslaught. I meet his stare as he spits out through his demolished face, “Why do you care about that whore and her runt? She’s beneath a man like you, she isn’t worth all this. Just leave her to me!” bloody spittle flies from his lips a
s he speaks. I feel all the rage inside me finally boil over.

  I snap a kick out at his knee and with a crunch it flips backward between the bars of the railing. His scream feeds my rage, as I pound a gloved fist into his increasingly distorted face. The rail groans in protest with each hit, rust falling into the steam from below. I grab his shirt and pull his face close to mine.

  “She’s worth more than you’ll ever know you God forsaken piece of shit,” I again snap my forehead down into his and he falls backward, the railing the only thing keeping him upright.

  “I’ll get her eventually; you can’t stop me,” David, grinds out, finding some level of defiance within his shaking body.

  “SHE.

  IS.

  MINE!”

  I scream, pulling my knee up, bracing myself on the railings as my size twelve boot snaps forward toward his chest. My full weight lands with the force of my fury against this lick-spittle’s chest. Metal groans as the railing finally gives way. Time slows, I can see the dust pattern of my boot on his chest as he hangs in the air, railing falling away behind him. A blood choked cry erupts from his throat. The sound is abruptly cut off with a wet slap and a loud splash that echoes across the building.

  Leaning over the edge of the broken catwalk, I see David’s body floating in the agitated acid bath below, steam rising from the heated and bubbling vat. I stare in mild amusement as David’s body twitches and thrashes unconsciously, the red splat on the edge of the vat a telltale sign that he cracked his skull on the way down. The harsh scent of the acid begins to permeate the air from the spillage and the splashing. David’s body stills after a few moments, the acid surely having done its job along with him being face down. His body slowly sinks from view as the vat clouds a dull red.

  I stand there for a moment, staring at the grisly scene below me when my brain finally catches up with reality.

  “Sawyer!”

  Axel’s voice shouting my name from below finally breaks through my delirium. I rush back down the length of the catwalk and stairs and I pull up short seeing Axel on his knees, a body cradled in his lap.

  Remy…

  Remy’s head is resting on Axel’s knees, his eyes blank and unfocused, his breathing ragged and shallow. The sight of the VP curled over Remy holding his head still while calmly telling him it’ll be okay shakes me. Axel looks up and meets my questioning look with a shake of his head before returning his attention to the brother slowly bleeding out at my feet. As I step closer, I can see the ragged hole in Remy’s Cut, just to the side of where his heart is.

  For the second time in ten minutes my focus narrows down to a pinpoint as I drop to my knees and grab Remy’s hand. I squeeze it firmly, but there is no response in my brother’s limp fingers. Remy sucks in a gurgling breath and coughs, blood pooling at the corner of his mouth.

  “Did… did you just Spartan kick… Spartan…” Remy’s voice breaks and bubbles around the words and he finally cuts off on a choking cough. With a soft laugh, I squeeze his hand again and close my eyes, bracing for what I know is coming. I look to Remy’s face and watch as the last light goes from his unfocused eyes and hear a final rasping exhale bubble from his chest.

  As rage starts to boil up within me, the sharp wail of a baby’s cry cuts through the oppressive silence. My head snaps up, my heart in my throat. Panic and adrenaline start to course through me as I search for the source of the sound. not sure if I dare to hope something good came from this clusterfuck.

  “Go. I’ve got him,” Axel urges, his voice thick with emotion. I meet his eyes and he just nods, returning his gaze to Remy’s still form as he closes his eyes and pulls his hair straight. I give Remy’s hand one last squeeze before standing and running off toward the racks.

  When I get to the final row and see the upended barrels, I sprint toward them, pulling up short when I see Tessa huddled between the barrels. She is clutching a squirming and crying Evan to her chest, trying to muffle the sound with her sweater.

  Dropping to my knees, I gather both in my arms, tucking Tessa’s head against my shoulder and holding onto her with everything I have. As my arms close around her I feel a profound peace sink into my bones. I press desperate kisses against her hair and murmur that she is safe, that Evan is safe, that I’ve got them; the asshole can’t hurt them anymore. I’m not sure if it’s more of a reassurance for her or for myself, but either way, it’s finished.

  When Tessa calms down and pulls away, I take Evan from her and cradle his little body in my arms. “You gave me a scare little man. I’m so damn happy to have you home little E-Buddy,” I whisper against his soft curls as I lean down to kiss him. His little fingers wrap around my shirt and tug, holding on so tightly. I pull his Lovie from my back pocket and he latches onto it like a life preserver. His little eyes look up to me and I watch a tiny tear leak from the corner of his eye. “We’re all good now.”

  When the three of us have calmed down a measure, I stand and help Tessa to her feet. Keeping Evan in my good arm, the boy holding onto my Cut and curling into my shoulder finally calm, face resting on the soft fabric of his Lovie. I wrap Tessa’s arm around my left, wanting to pull her close but my shoulder’s not cooperating. Tessa leans her head gently against the outside of my arm, like she needs the extra contact and I know I’ll never deny her that. I bring the two of them over to the little office and hand Evan back to his mother. As we enter the light of the office, she turns to me and gasps at the blood coating me; I had forgotten the mess in my rush.

  “Your arm!” she cries, reaching out.

  “I’m fine, just stay here. We need to clean this mess up before we leave. I’ll be back in just a few minutes,” I say, trying to sound as calm as possible. Tessa protests, but I cut her off.

  “Believe me, Babydoll. You do not want any of this burned into your brain. Let me go help Axel deal with shit and then we’ll get outta here. Trust me,” I tag the back of her neck and give her a fierce kiss. When we are both breathless, I pull back and press a gentle kiss to Evan’s forehead before turning, closing the door behind me.

  Making my way back to the other end of the warehouse I find Axel standing over Remy, the boys arms crossed respectfully over his chest, eyes closed.

  “Fuck,” I grind out, staring down at the body. Remy looks so peaceful, so unburdened.

  So much like Brandon at the end.

  No. Fuck no. Not again. Another son that will never come home to his mother, another Brother snuffed out far too soon. All because of me. Fuck. The pain that stabs through my heart as I look down at him stabs me through the heart, stealing my breath. Remy is another name to add to the list of people I’ve failed, people who relied on me and I let down. Another sin I will never be able to atone for.

  “Yeah Brother. We gotta get him outta here and clean this shit up,” Axel says, pulling me back into the moment. “Get him into the back of the truck. Then get Tessa and Evan in and be ready to hit it as soon as I’m done,” he directs. Axel pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through his contacts. Nodding my assent, I go and back the SUV up to the loading dock, out of sight of the street.

  I run back into the shop and gather Remy in a fireman’s lift over my good shoulder and make my way back through the shop, trying to ignore the thick trail of blood I feel tracing over my arms as I go. I carefully lower him into the back and look down at him for a moment. He looks so much like B. He’s about the same age B was when he passed. Knowing I’m going to have to face another heartbroken mother and tell her I took her son from her, it all but breaks me. I need to keep moving, to keep busy before the darkness takes me again, I dig through the storage along the side of the trunk and find a blanket to drape over Remy, not wanting Tessa to see him like this.

  Sighing, I close the rear hatch and head back into the shop. I knock on the office door and call Tessa’s name as I open the door. She is sitting in the desk chair with a sleeping Evan curled onto her shoulder, her cheek resting against his head. The sight once again warms my heart and
reminds me that there is still good in this world.

  “Come on, Babydoll. Let’s get you two outta here. Car is waiting outside. Do not look in the trunk.”

  She shoots me a confused look, clearly wanting to ask why.

  “I mean it Tess. I don’t want that on you. Take Evan and settle in the middle seat. I’ll go grab Axel and we’ll head out. Just trust me,” I say again. Comprehension dawns across her features and I can see she had known something had gone down, but until now hadn’t realized it was Remy.

  “He was just a kid,” she breathes, a pained look in her eyes brimming with tears. I can’t find the words to comfort her, but only nod.

  Tessa heaves a deep sigh and stands, offering me a weak smile before heading toward the door and the car beyond. I follow closely behind them and help her into the back seat, making sure they are settled and closed in before I head back to help Axel finish up.

  When I get back to Axel, I find him wearing thick rubber gloves and holding an upturned five-gallon plastic bucket. He’s staring silently at the spot where Remy had lain. There’s now a slightly hissing puddle covering the bloodstain as the acid eats away at the concrete.

  “Acid will take care of anything left behind. Hit the crate over there too. It’s Friday so no one should be coming in over the weekend. By Monday that acid should have done its thing on the body and they won’t be able to trace anything,” Axel says in a detached tone.

  We work in silence, quickly dousing any places where we might have left evidence behind. I make my way up the catwalk, cleaning my own blood and scooping up my pistol. A few minutes later, we wrap up throwing our gloves and scraps into the acid bath as well. David’s form is floating in the roiling vat and already starting to breakdown in the most gruesome manner possible, his broken leg in two pieces at opposite sides of the vat. I stare at the body for a moment before stating, “Let’s get out of here. I need to get this town in my rear view.”