Devil's Heart, page 7
part #1 of Executioners MC Series
I walk past the old motorbike and into the bar.
And I stare, stupidly. Like a statue, I stand there and stare.
The entire far wall is a mess of bricks and smoke and chips of wood and paint. They must’ve used some kind of special bomb, because it’s blown a near-perfect rectangle. I don’t know where Mason is. Outside, maybe, because that’s where the male voices are coming from. Shouting, roaring out words I can’t hear.
But Tiffany is across the other side of the bar, kicking her legs, waving her arms. The boxer who greeted us when we came here is on the floor, a bullet hole in his head, his mouth slack. I gasp, falling back. The image is so gruesome it sears into my mind straightaway. Even though I vow not to look again, I know that I’ll never forget it.
The man with his arm around Tiffany is the same man from the bar, the bald one with all the tattoos on his head. He grins as she kicks, struggling. He is much stronger than her. He just has one arm folded across her chest, but it’s enough. Together they move toward the door. I creep along the edge of the room, no idea what I’m going to do. The smoke is thick in the air. It’s like moon dust. I cover my mouth and resist the urge to cough.
I’ll have to get close enough and then … I look around for a weapon, a gun, a knife, anything. But all I see are bottles and glasses. I pick up a whiskey bottle and wonder how hard I’d have to hit him to drop him. Is it like in the movies, one hit and he falls down? Or will he just grab me as well? I don’t have much time to think it over, though, since they’re almost out of the bar.
“Ah!” I cry, charging at him with the bottle over my head.
“No, Jasmin! No!” Tiffany’s eyes go wide, flitting to the place just behind my shoulder.
I turn, bottle still raised … and a Pagan’s Son grabs my wrist and shakes it. I have to either drop the bottle or let him break my wrist. I drop the bottle, flailing my hand out at him. I want to punch that stupid smirk off his face. In the rush of the fight it’s all I see, just a big smirk reveling in what he’s doing.
“Let her go!” Tiffany cries.
“You really think I didn’t see you, you stupid slut?” the bald man laughs viciously.
“We bringing this one as well?” the smirking man growls, tightening his arm around my throat. There is nothing I can do. It’s like a steel pipe has just been pressed down on my neck. I can barely breathe, sucking in air through a tiny hole. Wheezing heavily.
“Might as well,” the bald one replies. “Let’s get a fuckin’ move-on, though.”
“No!” I snap, kicking my legs out just like Tiffany does. Both of us throw our bodies around, trying to dislodge ourselves. But the men hold us as though we are nothing more than children.
“I could break your neck a hundred times,” the man whispers in my ear, dragging me easily to the hole in the wall. Tiffany is already gone, her voice getting quieter and more distant. “So you better calm the fuck down.”
“Just—take—me!” I manage to gasp. “Leave—my—friend!”
“Ha, why?” He kicks a chair out of the way, dragging me backwards out of the building. It’s all I can do to keep my feet moving. If I stop, I’ll fall into his arm, really hurting myself. Already my neck throbs painfully. “We’ve got both of you, you stupid bitch.”
“Please!” I gasp.
But he does not listen.
11
Mason
I head back inside when the Pagan’s Sons scatter into the desert. It’s the way they run away that lets me know it was a distraction. I couldn’t even put my finger on why exactly, except that I’ve been an outlaw for years and outlaws can sense shit like this. I run back into the clubhouse, pistol raised and ready to fire.
Rex is dead, I see when I run into the bar. The two old bastards are passed out in the corner, but their chests rise and fall.
I scan the room. There, at the hole they made with the special charges. A hand. Jasmin’s hand! I sprint at the door with my gun raised, roaring out for them to stop, roaring out for him to leave my lady alone. Goddamn, I didn’t even know I cared this much … But all the things they’re going to do to her; all the fucked-up things they’re going to make her do…
I sprint outside and aim my gun. The bastard holding her has a tough, tanned face. Deep-lined wrinkles and a twisted grin. He has a gun to Jasmin’s head. I’m amazed by how calm she is. She’s not screaming; she’s not crying. She just stands there completely still. Maybe that has something to do with the choke he’s got on her. It’s in there deep. He could crush her any time he wanted.
“Sure you wanna risk this?” the Pagan growls.
“Yes.”
I fire. The bullet hits him square between the eyes. Before his body has even dropped, I’m on him, shoving him to the ground and putting another bullet in his head. I stamp on his head just to be safe and then grab Jasmin by the arm.
“No!” she screams, tugging at me as though she doesn’t want me to take her. “No, no, no!”
“Get inside!” I roar.
“Mason!” She points with her free hand at a black jeep, the same kind quite a few of our boys drive. I let out a snarl when I see it. The bald fucker from the bar, the one with the tattoos all over his head. And Jasmin’s friend. He shoves her into the car and then clambers in after her.
“It’s too late!” I roar, leaping at her when the passenger side window rolls down.
A Pagan’s Son sticks a machine gun out and starts firing. Rat-tat-tat, it ricochets against the pavement right where we were just standing. I haul her to her feet and drag her backwards into the bar. She writhes in my grip. She’s far stronger than I ever would’ve guessed. She moves like an eel, one giant muscle.
I drag her back into the bar and shove her down behind it. I kneel down near her, grab her face, and make her look into my eyes. “I am going back out there to see what I can do,” I tell her. “If you move from this spot, you’ll be making it worse. Understand? I can’t let anything happen to you. I just … I can’t, okay? So you need to stay the fuck down!”
I jump to my feet and look down at her one final time. She looks so precious. Right now, right here, I know I would die if it meant saving her life. It’s not just that she’s a civilian. It’s that she’s Jasmin and, even if I hardly know her, I feel like I do. It’s—dammit, it’s something like Danny talks about. Maybe for the first time in my life, I’ve got loyalty for a woman.
I run back outside with my pistol raised. But the jeep is long gone. I do a quick circuit of the clubhouse, checking for any stragglers. A damn smart plan would be to have one strike force and then leave another lying in wait. That way they can hit us again when we least expect it, a second time. But there’s nobody hiding in the garage or behind the clubhouse or near the big trash cans that would provide some decent cover.
I head back inside, trying not to look at Rex’s mangled body. Bones and Rex in one night. What a damn mess this is turning out to be.
I head over to the old men, taking out my cell phone. I check their pulses as I call the club medic. Both of them are alive.
“Be here in five, Doc. Ride like the devil’s at your fuckin’ heels, you hear me? They’re breathing, but they’re old bastards. I don’t know what the hell’s gonna happen to them.”
“All right, Mason.”
I hang up the phone and go to the bar quickly. Jasmin is on her feet now, poking her head over the drink nozzles. She looks at me with a question in her eyes. I shake my head. She looks like she’s gonna start shouting but I raise my hand, cutting her short.
“If you want any chance of saving your friend, you need to be quiet for a bit,” I tell her gruffly.
She curls her lip at that. It’s like she’s going to scream at me or something. But then she rocks back on her heels, shaking her head and letting out a trembling whimper. I agree with her. I can hardly believe this happened either.
I ring the boss. “Yates?”
“Mason, where the hell are you? I’ve been tryin’ to call you!”
I look at my phone again. He’s right. I’ve got a bunch of notifications at the top of my screen. “Shit, boss. I didn’t see.”
“Those bastards, the Pagan’s Sons, the fuckin’ bastards … they got Danny. They got him right outside his house. His wife said he went to take the trash out and he just disappeared. We get there and what do we find? A calling card, Wolf.”
“They’ve crossed a fuckin’ line here,” I snarl. “But there’s more, boss…”
I explain it all to him quickly. His voice is as cold as the grave when he says, “You did a fine job. Stay there and sort everything out the best you can. I’ll send some of the boys down. They must’ve been watchin’ us to see when we’d leave for the club, so be careful, okay? Fuckin’ hell is right. Wolf, this is war now. The time for games is done.”
“I can’t believe they got Danny,” I mutter, thinking of my friend. The best brother a man could ask for and those pricks have got their hands on them. “How are Wendy and the kids? They safe?”
“Yeah, they’re safe, Wolf. See you soon.”
“All right.”
I pace up and down the road waiting for the Doc to arrive. Looking at him, most folks wouldn’t think he’s a doctor. He wears a club leather and he’s got a giant handlebar mustache, but in a past life he was a war medic. I nod to him and he nods gruffly back. Then I lead him into the bar to the two old guys.
Jasmin is with them, helping the Old Man to sit up. Grizzly is leaning against the bar, legs splayed out in front of him. His voice is wheezier than ever. “Fuckin’ bastards,” he growls, the words almost impossible to make out. “Who the fuck do they think they are?”
“Let me check you over,” Doc says, kneeling down with his bag of medicine tools.
“Need anything?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I’ll shout if I do.”
“All right.”
Jasmin and I go off to one side, standing near the blown-up wall. I’ve got my pistol out and loaded just in case they try anymore bullshit. But they’ve got what they want. Hostages, valuable ones too. They really must’ve been watching us if they knew to take the women. Or maybe they just know that we can’t let civilians die. We’re not like them.
“I can’t believe they have her,” Jasmin murmurs. “I just … I can’t believe it. They have her. They have her. What are they going to do to her, Mason? Are they going to hurt her? Touch her? Kill her?”
“Ransom her, maybe.” I shrug. I can’t just blurt out all the things men like this do to women when they capture them. Especially when I might be right. If they want to ransom her, they won’t do anything too crazy right away. They wouldn’t want to spoil their merchandise. “But you can’t think on that. You just have to—”
“To what?” she hisses. She punches me in the chest, but not really. It’s a weak slap and then she grabs onto my shirt and pulls herself close to me. I move to her, pressing my body against hers for the sheer warmth of it.
“What’s wrong?” she asks a moment later. “I mean, I know …” She waves at the wall, a frame showing the dark, dry night. “You seem … I don’t know. There’s something else, isn’t there?”
I nod tightly. I have to force out the words out, the fact of it is so sick to me. I tell her about Danny.
“Oh, Mason,” she whispers. She touches my face.
“Come on.” I take her by the hand and lead her to the edge of the bar, the furthest point away from Rex. “Just wait here.”
I go over to Rex and hook my hands under his armpits. Then I haul him over my shoulder and carry him into the back, through the kitchen and then into the industrial freezer. I feel like the world’s biggest prick leaving a brother just lying there in the ice like that, but it’s better than leaving him out in the heat. He’ll just melt and bloat.
I take out my cell and ring our funeral guy. Sometimes we call him Mr. Corpse as a joke. But I’m not in a joking mood today.
“I can be down tomorrow morning,” he says after I explain.
“All right.” I sigh. It was less than twenty minutes ago that me and Jasmin were having the best damn sex of my life, hands down. It was like we were becoming one person or somethin’ like that, the sort of stuff they’re always singing about in love songs but that always seem impossible to me. I push the thought away. I can’t think of shit like that now.
I head back into the bar. Jasmin is pacing up and down near the hole in the wall, chewing her nails. She lets her hand drop when she sees me. “I want to help,” she says, walking over. “Don’t laugh!” she snaps. Maybe she thinks my smile means I find the idea ridiculous. But it’s not that. It’s just how brave she is, how much fire she’s got in her.
“I reckon you’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met,” I tell her. I grab her and pull her close to me, almost against her will. But she softens when I’ve got my arms around her. “But there ain’t a damn thing you can do.”
“They have my friend and she never would’ve even been here if it wasn’t for me!” She shoves me in the chest, pushing herself back. I don’t let her go. “I have to do something. Just promise me if there’s something I can do, anything, promise me you’ll let me. Promise me you won’t protect me.”
I kiss her forehead, not caring that the old fellas and Doc can see. “I can’t promise that,” I whisper. “I … I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“Why?” she asks plainly, staring right into my eyes.
I turn away. I feel too exposed. What a mess.
“I just can’t,” I growl, heading to the bar for a slug of whiskey.
12
Jasmin
I bite my nails one by one, starting with the pinkie of my left hand and ending with the pinkie on my right. I don’t plan on doing it this way. It just happens like that as I pace up and down the dorm room. I go to the laptop, open it, close it when I don’t have the password. Not that I know what I’d search if I had access to it. I think about calling the police, but the police have already been by here. The police know about the clubs, and if I call them, the club will just find out.
“It’s my fault,” I whisper, to myself and to Tiffany alike.
I go to the window. I try not to think about the crash, about the dark spots on my life. I try not to connect the two. The crash and Tiffany, both my fault. I’ll be a serial killer. “I’m sorry,” I whisper out at the rising sun. Hours have passed and yet nothing seems to be happening. Just a bunch of talking and shouting and planning, with me relegated here like I’m in detention.
“I didn’t mean …” I should have thought harder before I told Jackie I’d take that package. But I was so desperate to see Mason. I let my desperation cloud my judgment. I messed up royally, big-time. I messed up so bad and now Tiffany might be dead and—
I collapse onto the bed, fighting off sobs. After the crash, I had to make myself hard. Fifteen years old and I had to make sure I was carved from strong, sturdy stuff …
There I go thinking about it again, something I vowed I’d never do. I have to be strong if I want to survive this world. That’s just the way it is. Yet sometimes strength seems like such an effort. Sometimes the pull of weakness is just too tempting. I can’t fight it.
I fall back onto the bed and cry silently, my hand over my mouth. I was never ashamed of crying before the crash, but afterward it was like I was disrespecting their memory by letting myself get this emotional. Who am I to weep and drown in self-pity?
I stand up after a few minutes and go into the bathroom. In the mirror I look terrible, like a sleepless zombie. It’s exactly how I feel, too, like I could just fall over and pass out for days right here and now.
Except the tension coursing around me like pins and needles won’t let that happen. I open and close my hands to make sure they still work. I’ve had them clenched ever since I tore the nail from my last finger. They ache as I force them into a splayed position.
Freddie smiling up at me, Freddie grinning with the gap in his teeth. Freddie …
I leap almost to the ceiling when Mason shoves the door open. He winces when he spots me near the window, gripping the sill like I’m going to jump out.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “We’re heading out in a little bit and I wanted to say … shit, I don’t know. Goodbye, I guess.”
I move over to him. “You’re leaving?” I stop a foot or so short. Maybe it’s a selfish thought, but I just wish they’d attacked an hour or two later. What could’ve been? After the lovemaking we might have laid there together and talked and grown closer and maybe shared a few jokes.
But those assholes stole that from us. Just like they stole Tiffany.
“Yeah, we’ve got a beat on where they might be. Takin’ your friend is one thing, and I’m real sorry about that, but they crossed a line when they took a brother. Took him from his own home. I know what you’re thinking. What if they attack here again?”
I actually wasn’t thinking that, but I don’t contradict him.
“We’ve got four scouts posted and a guard outside your door. If they look like they’re comin’ back, we’re gonna ride you out to a safe house in the desert. But I don’t think they will. They’ve got what they want.”
I place my hand on his chest. It takes a moment to force my lips to stop trembling. “What about me?” I ask.
“I just told you—”
“No, not my safety. I mean, what about me? I said I could help, remember. There must be something I can do. Can’t I swap places with her? Surely if you explain to them who I am, in relation to you … if you tell them we’ve slept together, won’t I be more valuable than Tiffany? Make the call. I’m ready.”
He grabs my wrist, moving his hand over mine. He interlocks my fingers and squeezes tightly. “I’m not doing that,” he says.
“But I’m right?” I probe, yanking my hand away. My knuckles scrape painfully as he tries to hold on, but then he lets go. “Aren’t I?” I snap. “If you told them all of that, they’d take me instead.”
