Explosive (A Bleeding Scars MC)

by McCarthy, Abby

  Copyright © 2020 Abby McCarthy

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Hang Le

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue Alejandra

  Chapter One Alejandra

  Chapter Two Ace

  Chapter Three Alejandra

  Chapter Four Ace

  Chapter Five Alejandra

  Chapter Six Ace

  Chapter Seven Alejandra

  Chapter Eight Ace

  Chapter Nine Alex

  Chapter Ten Alex

  Chapter Eleven Ace

  Chapter Twelve Alex

  Chapter Thirteen Alex

  Chapter Fourteen Alex

  Chapter Fifteen Ace

  Chapter Sixteen Ace

  Chapter Seventeen Alex

  Chapter Eighteen Alex

  Chapter Nineteen Ace

  Chapter Twenty Ace

  Chapter Twenty-One Alejandra

  Chapter Twenty-Two Alejandra

  Chapter Twenty-Three Ace

  Chapter Twenty-Four Alejandra

  Chapter Twenty-Five Ace

  Chapter Twenty-Six Alex

  Chapter Twenty-Seven Ace Two months later

  Chapter Twenty-Eight Alex

  Chapter Twenty-Nine Ace

  Chapter Thirty Ace Eighteen Months Later

  Chapter Thirty-One Alex

  Chapter Thirty-Two Ace

  Chapter Thirty-Three Alex

  Chapter Thirty-Four Ace

  Epilogue Alex

  About the Author

  To Jessica. You are brave. You are strong. This past year has been beyond hard and I love you.

  Prologue

  Alejandra

  "I'll love you until my last dying breath, Janie." Walker bent low, kissing the top of Janie's head.

  "No. You don't leave it like this." In an act of desperation, she was pulling him to her lips and putting everything she had into the kiss. He didn't have to leave. He didn't need to go after them.

  He reluctantly released her. She could tell he was thinking about his decision. The way his shoulders grew rigid, and his jaw set tight; his body was locking up. She'd seen that look before. It was the look he made when he had come to a decision, and everyone who knew Walker, knew that once his mind was made up, there was no changing it. He turned away from her, walking quickly.

  "If you love me like you say you do, then you won't walk out that door!" Janie yelled at his retreating back. She hoped he'd give her one final glance back. This was it, the kind of love she'd only ever dreamed of, but with one last footstep, he was gone. He never looked back.

  "Alejandra, put that book away. He's coming," Sasha scolded, interrupting the best part of the story.

  I tucked the novel I was reading into the back of the vanity. Sasha picked up a blush brush and moved it over my cheeks, making it look like she was still working on my make-up. The door opened without a knock.

  Just once, I wished he knocked, or better yet, I wished he'd just disappear.

  "Mr. Sokolov's plane is grounded. A hurricane popped up out of thin air. Wipe that shit off her face," my Uncle Enrico ordered Sasha. I wanted to bare my teeth, then take my make-up brush and jam it into his eye, but I didn't. I couldn't; he'd proven to me too many times that his strength was far superior to mine. He had men and power, and I had none.

  Despite wanting to gouge his eyes out, there was something I needed to ask him. I knew it would be risky, but I had to know. The cries were too loud. The pain was too remarkable to ignore.

  "The woman..." I began.

  "Is none of your concern." He cut me off, irritation lacing his words.

  "You're hurting her. It's too much. Please," I begged for the stranger that I could hear crying through the vents. I never asked him for anything, but for her, I had to try. I didn't know where she was in this house, but I knew he was hurting her. Her cries haunted me. I laid awake in the evening, and all I could hear was her tortured pleas.

  I should've known better than to question Enrico.

  His hand connected with my cheek. The force of it sent me to the floor. My face stung, but I felt it was worth it, if I gave that woman a voice.

  I looked up at Enrico, as he spoke. He straightened his tailored jacket and relaxed his body like he was calm and in control. "Sasha, clean her face up. I don't want a mark on her when Sokolov arrives." Sasha nodded and kept her head down. She was the dutiful servant in his presence, and I really couldn't blame her. Perhaps she did everything she could to make sure she wasn't the woman in the basement.

  "Lock the door when you're finished," Enrico ordered as he left the room, not looking back.

  I knew what he was going to do before I opened my mouth, but I did it anyway. If I said something he didn't like, he didn't hesitate to leave me locked in here for days at a time with no food, no water, and no one to speak to.

  I knew better than to say anything to his fleeing back. It would have consequences. I probably shouldn't have even asked about the girl, but her cries broke my heart.

  "Girl! What were you thinking?" Sasha scolded. "I'll get a salve for your face, and I'll see if I can't find a sleeping pill, so you don't have to be awake for your stay."

  As enticing as going to sleep and not waking up for a while was, I had learned that I needed to keep my wits about me. If he woke me from my sleep, I couldn't be groggy.

  "It's not necessary," I replied. Sasha nodded as she went to get the salve.

  Sasha returned with a metal pot in one hand and the salve for my face in the other. I didn't know what was in the salve. I just knew that if he smacked me, this would stop it from swelling up. The pot was to be my bathroom, a reminder that I had a place, and speaking to Enrico like I was his equal was not it. I hated him. I prayed for the day he would get his.

  Three days had passed since Enrico locked me in. I was only let out when Sokolov arrived. I had no energy, and it felt harder than normal to play the role he wanted me to play. Besides Sokolov, I had no interactions with anyone except for when Sasha came in to get me ready and one other time when she rushed in with a glass of water, hurrying to get it to me before she was caught. I hadn't seen her since. It was day three, and I was starving and thirsty. My throat was dry, and my belly had moved beyond the growling stage.

  I was sitting against the door with my book in my hand. I had finished it the first day and ended up rereading it yesterday. I heard footsteps in the hallway and knew it had to be Enrico. His steps always seemed measured. Everything he did was calculated in some way or another.

  I stood against the door, banging on it with my fist, "Fine, you win. I'm sorry. Now, let me out."

  He didn't unlock the door that night. The next day, I felt so weak from the lack of food and water that when Enrico came in, setting a glass of water beside the bed, telling me the puta was not my concern, I stayed quiet.

  I drank the water when he was gone, noting that he didn't lock the door.

  I was too weak to go to the kitchen. Sasha came up a while later and brought me food, explaining that Sokolov was coming back tomorrow, and I needed to get it together. I learned he complained to Enrico t
hat I didn't have any energy. He was getting a do-over, and I wanted to be sick.

  I hated this life. I hated that Sasha was right. I needed to get it together. Still, there was a part of me that stared at the knife that was on my tray for my chicken breast that wondered, could I end this? I knew what Sokolov was like. I knew he was beginning to have an obsession with me. I knew how horrible this life had always been. I could take that knife and end it all. I thought about the girl's screams and how bad it had been for her. It could be worse. I knew it. I had to keep on hanging on.

  No, today was not the day for me to end it all. Today I'd eat, and tomorrow I'd play dress up for a Russian mobster. I'd leave the knife alone, this time.

  Chapter One

  Alejandra

  "What are you doing here?" I tried to keep my voice from shaking, but there was a slight lilt to it. Every single time I had been in the same room as Hades, I did my best to show him I was strong and worthy. Why I even cared about what he thought, I wasn't quite sure. It's not like he ever showed me any decency. He surely didn't use familiarities with me as one would expect.

  "Alejandra, is that any way to greet your dear old dad?" Hades mocked as he moved around the villa, inspecting it. He lifted the book I was reading and flipped through the pages holding on to it like it amused him. Like it was a joke. Like I was a joke.

  The heavy stomping of his motorcycle boots on the pristine tile echoed around the open room. I slipped a robe on top of my nightgown and moved to the kitchen. He trained his eyes on me, and I did my best to show indifference to him as I poured a cup of coffee that automatically brewed at seven every morning.

  I had only seen Hades a handful of times, and that wasn't saying much considering I was nearing thirty, well twenty-nine to be exact. To say my twenty-nine years had been a life well lived would be, well, it would be a lie. The truth was, I might as well have been Rapunzel. I was locked away with no love and no family. At least, I had been educated. I could read. And it was in those books that I found the smallest glimmer of hope. I lived vicariously through the pages of my favorite bad-boy romances. If not for the stories, I probably would have ended it long ago. I'm not saying that in some morbidly depressed way either. It was a fact. My life, besides my books, was no life at all.

  I grew up with my uncle, Enrico Santos. Enrico worked for my grandfather, his dad; Juan Santos. Grandpa and Enrico were equally immoral. They believed sex was money, and money was power. At a young age, I bore witness to a variety of sexual acts. When I was old enough, my uncle sold my virginity. I wasn't allowed to be abused during these acts of rape—so there was that—at least no visible marks anyways. I was the precious, coveted pussy. They used me to solidify business deals. The only sense of happiness I'd ever found was within the pages of my books, my book that was currently in Hades' hand.

  I studied my sperm donor. He looked to be in his sixties, although I knew he was fifty-two. His beard was mostly white, and his slicked-back black hair was speckled with gray. His expression was emotionless. What kind of man would allow his half-brother to use me the way he had? Why not let me live a life? I had been told I was beautiful nearly all my life, but I detested the fact that my face resembled my father's.

  I schooled my features, masking my emotions. This skill was one I often thought I mastered at nearly the same time I learned to walk.

  "Enrico's dead," Hades finally spoke. I stilled. My white knuckles gripping my coffee mug were the only indication I gave that I was shocked. Hades watched me intently.

  What would that mean for me?

  Before I could contemplate it, his next words made me gasp. "I shot him after he killed your mother."

  I quickly snapped my mouth closed. I didn't mean to show Hades emotion, an emotion as simple as surprise was still not worthy of him.

  "Ah, I see you aren't as rigid as you'd have me believe." I straightened my back and squared my shoulders.

  "I am merely the product of the life you have given me. After all, you have always been the one who was really in charge. I am not so naive to think that the person I am today was made this way by Enrico. I know who the real boss has always been." I didn't know this, but I felt like I needed to stroke his ego.

  His eyes squinted at me, and I couldn't tell if I'd overstepped or if I had garnered some respect by speaking up for myself.

  He tossed my book down on the counter and approached me.

  Do not flinch. Do not show him fear.

  "Not only beautiful, but smart too." It was a compliment. I didn't know if I'd ever received one from Hades before, and as much as I loathed the man, a compliment from him was still something I'd always yearned for.

  "This hasn't always been an easy life for you, has it?" He was talking to me like I mattered. It was both unnerving and endearing. I'd somehow longed for this, so the smallest amount of kindness from him felt mesmerizing, but I'd learned to maintain my calm.

  I shook from finding out that both my Uncle Enrico and my mother, whom I'd never met, were dead, and now the mysterious Hades was paying me a compliment. I sipped my coffee and watched him. He obviously had a motive.

  "How would you like to be done with it all? To start over? I'll give you money and set you up, and you will be free to do what you want."

  "I would say nothing is free. What is the cost?"

  "It's simple, really. I have a job for you. Your freedom for your brother."

  Chapter Two

  Ace

  Wait for it... wait for it... boom!

  There was a brief pause followed by another boom.

  The cloudy and gray sky became black. A subtle orange glow slowly illuminated the air as the dust began to clear, and the fire burned brightly. I loved big bangs, and this one was like the fucking Fourth of July. I looked at my watch. One more. Ten... nine... eight... and so on, until finally... boom. The sky cracked with the sound of the explosives. Metal shipping containers seemed to scream in agony from the force of the blow. I couldn't feel more elated than seeing something of those Hades Runner’s burn. This hit should cost them, and I was fucking elated.

  Large pieces of metal flew apart and into Lake Erie. These were two of Hades Runners' biggest warehouses along the port. An endless sea of colored shipping containers was to my right and to my left, a fiery blaze ignited the sky. We were going to show those Hades fuckers who the fuck they were dealing with, once and for all.

  The value of the warehouses alone would be a hit, but it wasn't what would hurt the most. It was what was inside that held the most value.

  Weeks of recon, and I finally got the intel I needed to be sure I was blowing his guns sky-freaking-high. Without another backward glance, I climbed down from my perch.

  Shane, my President and best friend in the Bleeding Scars MC, sat on his bike waiting for me. "Took you long enough," he smirked. "Everything go as planned?"

  I gave him a chin lift and mounted my bike—not having the words to say I was grateful he had my back. I had too much adrenaline coursing through my body.

  On an average day, I didn't say much. On a day like today, when my Special Ops training came in handy, I felt mute. It was a curse and a blessing. I loved the thrill of blowing shit up and making my enemy suffer, but I hated the reminder of what the Marines cost me.

  We rode to our clubhouse, which also served as a machine shop. Shane was to my left, and once we passed a look-out point, Gunner was to my right. These two men and I were the founders of The Bleeding Scars Motorcycle Club.

  We started small, just the three of us. At first, we didn't have official titles, but as we grew and the number of men who stood by our side became larger and larger, we had to create a hierarchy. Shane, the most vocal and even keeled of us, became our President. He was damn good at getting men to follow him. Gunner was his right hand, his VP; and I was the muscle, the Sergeant at Arms. It was the natural progression of things. When it was just the three of us, it was pretty much just a casual friendship—a brotherhood—but when we were with the men in our
MC, it was a different story. It was business first, then friendship.

  We weren't above board, that was for sure, but we were nowhere near as shady as the Hades Runners MC, whose warehouses I just blew sky-fucking-high. I imagined he had men in those warehouses too, but the way I saw it, it was me doing the world a favor by getting rid of any of those cockroaches. They were the worst of the worst.

  There was one thing I hated more than anything, and that was seeing women abused. Blame it on my childhood, blame it on shit I saw overseas, it didn't matter. Those maggot-sucking Hades trash thought they could take what they wanted from women whenever they wanted. I wanted to hunt down every fucking one of them.

  Do I have some rage issues? Sure, but what man who's seen the shit I've seen wouldn't? What man would be okay with ever letting that scum walk this Earth? Not me and sure as shit, not my brothers. Gunner, grew up with the Hades scum; the lead Hades being dear old stepdaddy, who the club was named after.

  Gunner had some stories to tell. He spent a good amount of time running from the Hades Runners until he had us, and we had his back.

  Hades thinks he shouldn't fear us, but today I taught that dirtbag a lesson.

  We pulled up in front of the clubhouse. A few of the guys were outside smoking, and checking out some new chrome Donnie tricked out on his bike. Personally, I thought his shiny shitshow was a bit pretentious. He made eye contact with me as we walked past and gave me a subtle lift of his brow, silently questioning if everything went as planned.

  I dipped my chin then continued inside. Gunner grabbed his woman as soon as we entered. I was secretly a little envious that he'd found love. Charlie's laugh echoed around the large open room. She slapped Gunner on the arm as he whispered something into her ear. I brushed past them, moved into the office, and grabbed my laptop. I grabbed a beer from the cooler and found my usual spot in the corner of the room. I sat back and observed everyone for a few minutes before thoroughly diverting my attention to what awaited me on my laptop.