Redemption (9 page)

St. John replied finally.
[enough. I know who you are]

[really? I know what you did]

[and what is that?]
Still groggy, St. John stamped out his final text and thought about turning the thing off.
[my daddy liked me to watch what he did to his whores]

[so what]

[Vid feeds all over house]

[wrong person]
St. John typed. His heart beat rapidly at the realization there’d been a witness.

[no its you and justice boudreaux. I will have you both]

St. John typed out one last message—
[fuck you]
—but wisely deleted it. He closed his eyes but his heart raced. He knew they had to kill Gray Man.

St. John blinked as cool air covered him in the quiet of his room. He must’ve dozed off out of sheer exhaustion. He tossed in his bunk, but now his thoughts were on Abigail. By agreement, she slept in Justice’s bed although he’d promised to not make her service him. St. John wasn’t sure, but had to trust him.

He peeked in Justice’s bedroom to see it was only she, asleep in bed. Justice always left the bedroom door open to signal to the other brothers she was there for the taking. He reached in and pulled it shut. He crept back along the floor and made his way downstairs. The aroma of bacon led him into the kitchen. The room was full of brothers who hadn’t surrendered to the all night party.

“Justice said to join him out back,” slurred Rotten.

“Thanks, brother. SFFS,” St. John offered. Maybe he was self-conscious, but he’d never felt so out of place. His ears prickled at the suspicion he was being talked about. Had Justice leaked his identity?

“Good morning, Opie. Lets talk.” Justice, as usual, had his plate piled high with eggs and bacon.

St. John was apprehensive about the man’s tone—flat—and his expression showed no hint of brotherhood.

A wooden rocker skidded and bounced as St. John pulled it across the back patio. He wouldn’t leave his back to the door. Maybe he was just drained from the killing of Ford, but Justice’s sinister undercurrent caused St. John to be thankful he’d strapped his weapons on.

“What’s changed?”

Justice glared at him. “Your girlfriend talks in her sleep.”

St. John shuffled his feet against the wooden surface. He tried to match Justice’s glare, but only met eyes that were dark and serious. Suddenly his food lacked taste. He set his plate atop the railing.

“What exactly did she say?” His elbow tapped the top of his weapon just in case things turned shitty real quick.

“At first not much, but once I woke up and keyed in on her babble it became clear. She met with Lawless and Voodoo while we were gone. She also said something about Gray Man.” He spoke without breaking to chew. “So I woke her up to finish the conversation.”

“Is that all you did to her—talk?” St. John felt his blood begin to boil. His feelings for Abigail had grown strong over the last months. If Justice broke his promise, it’d be on for an ass beating.

“Gave you my word, Seals.”

“It’s St. John.”

“Okay, St. John.” He paused. “I found out Ford had been the one setting up shit so Geneti would know how to rip us off. Of course, we knew that already.” He made pretend his hand was a gun. “She told me she was close to setting up a deal for the guns, but you stopped her. Very wise on your part.”

“We knew that too.”

“Yes, but you never let me in on it. I guess you were still planning an arrest strategy. Maybe this is why you came clean—don’t have the juice to bust our ass.” His look was distant. The Rocky Mountains in the distance were beautiful, majestic, but Justice was somewhere else in his thoughts.

St. John stopped rocking. “You think it’s easy to come clean? I took an oath, just like you did. Abandoning it all isn’t easy, but I did it because certain people need to be stopped. There are also innocent people, like Abigail, who need to be saved. No matter the who or the what, I’m committed to the Savage Nation.” He extended his hand to Justice.

“SFFS,” Justice said, taking his hand.

“Savages Forever, Forever Savages,” St. John said.

Justice coughed until he was able to swallow a giant heaping of eggs. “Abigail also said Ford wasn’t the head of this shit. It’s the agency’s psychiatrist.”

St. John’s windpipe clenched. He gasped for air. “Who?”

“Worthington,” Justice whispered.

St. John’s body seemed to come unhinged. His chest flat lined across the op of his thighs. “What the fuck did you say?”

“Worthington.”

“I’d always suspected her of being tied to Ford but—”

“Oh fuck,” Justice interrupted.

His plate of food spilled to the floor. Justice lunged from his chair with head pressed between his hands. St. John saw his broad chest expand and collapse with each exaggerated slug of Colorado air. St. John grew more concerned but he waited. Something was connecting inside the big boss’s head.

“Dragon Mike.” Justice’s face was pale. He leaned heavy into the railing.

“Yeah?”

“It’s her.”

St. John approached and placed a hand on Justice’s shoulder. “What are you saying, Bro?”

“Mike’s new old lady. Said they went to the valley, and she was some kinda doctor or shrink. A real cougar.” Justice repeated her name like he’d seen a ghost and was afraid to tell. “Worthington, Worthington.”

T
he old mini-mall
had been abandoned a few years ago. The strip had been rezoned for residential and thanks to the powers that be, the small section of family-owned stores were forced to shut down. So much for California dreaming.

Abigail’s ass hurt. Twenty-something hours on the back of a vibrating rocket would rattle anyone’s bones. She wasn’t sure what was at stake, but if this secured her freedom to be with St. John, then it was worth it. She’d already had so much taken away, had never expected to leave this quest alive. Things were different now—she wanted desperately to survive, to live a life with the man she deeply loved.

She lay in a corner of the shop’s storage area. Her body felt wretched from the haul. She didn’t understand how the brothers made these cross-country runs regularly. She cast a dispassionate eye to the other end of the room where an unholy allegiance had formed to save an unlikely hero.

Lawless hadn’t seen his blood brothers in years. Voodoo had shared that the last time they had come together was for her wedding at Oak Alley Plantation along Louisiana’s Mississippi River. Abigail’s heart wanted to ache for the family who’d been so ravaged since childhood, torn apart by the military, and now living the outlaw life, but deep down, she hated them still.

Her attention focused on Voodoo—all five-feet-five inches of spitfire Cajun badass. She’d grown up with the Boudreaux clan. It was their bond, Voodoo said, that forged the truce so they’d attended her wedding years ago. Her husband was killed in action and, she confessed, Lawless suspected his brothers were involved. It was fucking tense in that storage room to say the least.

“Abigail, would you come over?” St. John asked.

Reluctantly she padded her way into the circle of brimming testosterone.

St. John continued his briefing. “I know this shit is weird, but we’re the only ones to stop this madness. Lets drop the facades and focus on saving a good man. It doesn’t matter that he wears a Savage Nation’s cut—he’s a United States Marine and sacrificed the same as everyone for this nation.” St. John paused and looked squarely at everyone. No one blinked. Goosebumps crawled across Abigail’s skin. The focus was intense; the stakes were high. This was more than her chance to escape the personal nightmare caused by so many others. This was a chance to strike back at pure fucking evil.

“Best we know is that Gray Man and Worthington have Dragon Mike in Sonoma Valley. It’s been several days since Justice or I’ve heard from him. Gray Man is still e-mailing Abigail to complete this gun deal though,” St. John said.

Abigail felt her courage wane once the reality of what they were attempting set in. She’d been brave and even reckless before but this was on another level she couldn’t comprehend.

She raised her hand. “He just reached out again and wants to know if this is going to happen.” Her voice started out strong, but then cracked and quavered at the reality of being contacted by a horrific serial killer. She realized she’d shared way too much of her personal information with him. Unless they got him, she’d become a target for sure. His death was her only freedom.

“Thanks, and reply with a yes,” St. John said. “What bothers me is that he actually watched his father confess to setting up the rip off, yet he’s still trying to go through with this deal.”

Lawless leaned against a far wall, keeping distance from his blood brothers. “Maybe it was only video feeds. Or, he’s looking to play this scenario to the end. He knows about you outlaws. The big question is, does he know Abigail is working with you or does he think she’s still against you?”

“I think she needs to go face-to-face with Gray Man. If they are seriously discussing a quarter million dollar gun deal, then a meeting shouldn’t be out of the question,” Justice suggested.

She fell dizzy. Leaning her head against the wall only made the spinning worse. She gagged once, and then again. Abigail wanted to ask what the fuck were they using her for, but she knew the answer. Bait.

St. John stood. He looked less sure of himself than usual. He’d been put in a shitty situation of having to mediate between his agency co-workers and his outlaw brothers. She hoped his intentions were to protect her, though she didn’t doubt him.

“Not only no, but hell no. We are not going to dangle her in front of this fucking psychopath.” He was pissed at their suggestion. “She’ll continue emailing details and set a meet location. If he comes alone, then the rest of you will assault his compound to rescue Dragon Mike. If Worthington is with him, we snatch them both and mutilate them until they squeeze info.” His fist slammed into the metal desktop. The crash reverberated throughout the mini-mall, but he intended his fury would be felt far beyond those walls.

Abigail felt out of body as she watched. The heat from all eyes on her caused her to blush as if her skin was on fire. She was just a single mother who’d lost her baby—what the fuck were they looking at? She rolled onto her hands and knees, but quivering muscles kept her from standing up. It was still so overwhelming. Even speech evaded her—she was bait.

St. John helped her up after the meeting and they moved to an isolated room. His thick, hard hands always touched her so gently. No one was ever tender with her. Even her parents, when they weren’t fucked up on dope or hiding from the Las Vegas Metro cops, were never gentle. She trusted St. John, but still waited for the other shoe to fall. It never had with him, but she waited. He was a good man caught in a complex situation—he’d always fight for the underdog.

“Baby, you’re going to be okay,” He said, but his eyes said the opposite.

When her hands slipped around the back of his neck, she felt him relax. She pulled him close and kissed him but sensed reluctance.

“What’s wrong?”

His dark eyes moistened. The cleft in his granite chin dipped deep as he forced a sweet smile to mask a soft look of concern. “I can’t lose you, Abigail. You’ve saved me.”

“How, baby?” The tattoo that Rage had torn into her wrist caught her eye as she stroked his cheek. The sight of the punishment ink sickened her.

“This has been more than one person could handle. I was at the end of my rope and looking to end my life. At one time, I hoped maybe even the Savages would’ve done it for me. But then I met you,” he said in a whisper that quieted beneath tears and huffs of calming breaths. “Your fight for redemption inspired me to fight for life—find something normal in this life. You saved me.”

“But?”

He averted his gaze. “But I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to save you. Gray Man is more than Justice or I can handle. And its not like we can hide from him. This has to end now.”

“I was willing to sacrifice my life for the sake of revenge. I’m more than willing to lay it down for the sake of your love.”

“I love you too, Abigail. In this life or the next—I love you.”

“I’ll meet Gray Man in person,” she whispered.