Unbreakable: Unrequited Part Two (Fallen Aces MC Book 2) (22 page)

Carlos chuckles and fists Apex’s shirt at the neck as he addresses Beefy. “Like what? Offering your boss up for the slaughter, are you?”

I edge around the room, my hand behind my back to pull the pistol from my waistband. Perhaps if I can get in position behind the sofa, or use the pool table as a partial shield . . .

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed you.” His back is turned to me, but Carlos holds his gold-ringed pointer finger squarely in my direction.

Fuck.

I run a quick calculation of who’s in the room and what collateral damage there’d be if I opened fire, right here, right now. I wanted the sick fucker to suffer, to break under my hand, but sometimes a man has to take the opportunity afforded to him and do the best he can.

Beefy hangs off to the left of Carlos and Apex, watching the interaction with thin restraint. Behind him stands the bleeding prospect. A flash of black and pink catches my eye as two of the property girls disappear up the staircase to more than likely barricade themselves in a bedroom. The bar is empty, save for one of the old boys whose head is on the sticky counter as he sleeps through the whole thing in an alcohol-induced coma.

By all accounts, we’re fucking lucky Carlos showed up now, and not earlier when the regular partiers were still here. Whatever he’s got planned, I’m sure it’s not something I could stomach innocent families being involved in.

“Come join us,” Carlos coos in my direction. “Don’t be shy.”

Beefy catches my eye and shakes his head minutely, warning me off doing anything stupid. The room is silent save for the clink of my boot buckles as I cross over to where the action is.

Carlos drinks the sight of me in with the blood-thirst of a killer on the scent of wounded prey. “Don’t tell me you’re stupid enough to have
her
here too?”

I lift my lips on one side in answer.

“Didn’t think you were that idiotic,” Carlos says, almost
praising
me. He regards Apex and leans across to talk to me, his eyes still on the guy. “What do
you
think we should do with this two-timer?”

“Hear him out.” I narrow my gaze on Apex, keen to use the time it takes to come up with a plan to my advantage. “I want to hear him say it.”

“Oooh.” Carlos rubs his hands together. “This looks interesting.”

“Don’t know what the fuck you think I’m going to say, kid,” Apex sneers.

“Tell us why there was no comeback in ’97.” I try to gauge what kind of response time Carlos would have if I lifted a knee and pulled out my knife.
Too hard to tell.

Apex’s under-eye twitches. “Officers voted against it. Didn’t want to put our members at risk like that.”

“Bullshit,” I sneer, the weight of Carlos’s curious gaze bearing down on me. “How’s the wife?”

I could have heard a mouse sneeze. All eyes are trained on the two of us as we enter into a verbal sparring match.

“How’s his?” Apex asks me, jerking his head towards Carlos.

“Fucking dead after we sort this little issue out,” Carlos mutters dismissively.

My finger longs for the feel of a trigger, but what chance would I have against the guards behind me with their weapons trained on my every move?
“Not if I have the last word, asshole.” I keep my sight squarely on Apex as I answer Carlos.

“I highly doubt that,” the bastard mutters. “Anyway,” he asks Apex, “what does your wife have to do with all of this?” Carlos circles him, dusting invisible dirt from the man’s shoulders. “See, we sat down and shared a drink to discuss how
I
could help
you
get the information you sought that would confirm the Blood Eagles’ guilt in regards to that little spat in ’97. Here I thought you were trying to get what you needed to take the prosecution through legal channels. Why else would you need hard evidence on what they did and who called the hit? Gentlemen that criminals like us are, if you wanted to settle this the respectable way, you would have gone after the man who sent his lackeys out to shoot up your boys, would you not? Paid him a visit in the dead of night perhaps?” He stops in front of Apex and takes hold of both sides of his cut, pretending to straighten it out. Apex has slowly turned the color of a beet over the course of Carlos’s inquisition. “But,” he continues, “why would you need a name from me when you already knew who it was that called the shots?” He turns to Beefy and smiles. “Pardon the pun.”

“If you know the answers,” Apex grits out, “then why waste your time grandstanding here and now? Why didn’t you just shoot me when you walked through the door, you fuckin’ coward? Bet you’re afraid it’ll dirty your over-priced suit, huh?”

Carlos clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “
Au contraire
. I thought about doing that the whole way here, but then I realized, what’s more detrimental to the wolf when he turns against his pack?”

The pack deals the punishment.
The asshole’s going to get us to do his dirty work. “Nice,” I chuff. “You’re going to get us to deal to our own so your record stays clean—no involvement, no evidence if investigated.”

Carlos spins around, a grin a mile wide across his face as he reaches out and ruffles my hair. “See, you’re a clever wee thing, aren’t you?”

I punch his bicep, forcing the fucker to pull his arm back in haste as no doubt the whole limb goes numb.

“Careful,” he grumbles. “That kind of disrespect gets a man’s kneecaps shot.”

I glance behind me at his hired help and note two of the guns raised and trained on me, the other pair on Apex and Beefy. The bloodied prospect stands between us and them, penned in with nowhere to go unless he fancies adding to his injury checklist.

Our old boy at the bar rumbles incoherent words in his sleep, drawing one of the weapons from me to him. Carlos’s man shakes his head when he realizes the old bastard is no threat and re-trains his sight on me.

“As I was saying,” Carlos addresses Apex, yet rolls his eyes at me, “I figured you played me all along, saying you were interested in what I have—which, by the way, I don’t.” He inspects his fingers, waggling them before himself. “I lied about that.” His smug attitude grates on me. “I indulged, once I realized you were up to something else, and paid your friends a little visit. Boy, did they have a story for me.” Carlos leans in toward Apex, his nose barely an inch from our ex-president’s. “How’s your son?”

Apex’s eyes dart between Beefy and myself.

“We already know about what happened,” I say. “You don’t need to keep up the lie.”

His nose twitches as he looks over the prospect behind me and sighs. “What would you have done?” Apex appears not to address any one of us in particular; he throws the question out there for public consumption.

Our circumstance may have all varied, but we’d be hard pressed to find any one of us who would have reacted any differently when they realized a loved one was at risk.

“You denied me the right to ask my brothers for help,” I mutter at Apex. “For a situation almost
identical
to yours.” He stays silent, as though he really listens to me for the first time. “You know how it felt.”

“Oh, fucking cry me a river,” Carlos scathes.

I lose the marginal hold I had on my deep disgust for the sorry excuse for a human beside me and swing out at Carlos, connecting with his jaw. His head whips to the side as the sharp crack from my right precedes a burning sensation that spreads from my left calf to my ankle and thigh.

“You try a stunt like that again,” Carlos spits, “and it won’t be a warning shot, you fucking asshole.” He swipes at his jaw with the palm of his hand, as though still in disbelief that I would do such a thing with two guns trained on me. Can’t say I’d expected to be so careless either. The man makes me do crazy things.

“First you fuck her behind my back,” he grinds out through his teeth, “and then you have the audacity to steal her.” The heel of his right hand sends me sprawling backward, unsteady on my leg that feels as though the lakes of hell run through it. “Does she fuck you good? Huh? Suck like a God-damned Hoover?” He shunts me again, and this time I strike back, yet miss him as my knee gives out from the pain. “She has to be good at something, because fuck knows the bitch ain’t faithful.” He laughs snidely and shoves me in the leg with the toe of his shoe. “Ever worry that she’ll do the same thing to you, asshole? Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“Nope,” I say. “Not worried, because I’m not a cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch like you. Unlike you, fucker, I know how to treat a woman, how to show her I love her.” Carlos steps back, his fists at his sides. “But hey, you wouldn’t be able to do that even if you tried, since there’s no room in that soulless chamber you call a heart for love. You’re a lonely little man who uses his paid friends to boost your ego.” I jab my hand towards his guards who watch the exchange with keen interest. “Because that’s all you have, isn’t it? Paid friends. No fucker actually
wants
to be around an asshole like you. Nobody. Likes. You. And just like the nerdy little kid in the corner of the schoolyard,
it fuckin’ kills you.
”

His nostrils flare, his eyes darker than two lumps of coal as he stares down at me, his fingers twitching. I push up with my elbow and get to my feet as his right hand whips under his suit jacket.

We draw at the same time, muzzle to muzzle, both out of fucks to give for what happens next.

He goes down as my finger hits quarter-way on the trigger. Carlos’s men point their weapons toward the source of the shot. The ends of their rifles wave wildly about as they fail to find the sniper. A slow grin spreads on my lips as I catch the glimpse of a grease-stained mechanic’s boot heel I know all too well disappearing into the garage.

Carlos screams blue murder from his position on his knees, one hand clutched to his blown elbow. Beefy draws and drops one of the guards. The remaining three spin to cover themselves as I drop another and Beefy takes his final count to two.

Apex steps back, his head whipping this way and that as he looks for a way out.

Decisions, decisions.
Do I take out the last guard, keep my eye on Carlos, or stop our double-crossing president in his tracks? Seems our injured drug lord has made
his
mind up, which in turn solves my dilemma for me.

The fourth and final guard drops to the floor with half his head blown over the back of a sofa.

“Fucking useless,” Carlos yells. “Pay peanuts, I get monkeys.” His revolver waves wildly between Beefy and myself. “Who’s next, assholes?”

“Set it down, son.”

Our odd arrangement stills as we all turn our heads to take in the old boy from the bar, standing behind Carlos with a stubby pistol pointed directly at the back of the drug lord’s head. “She might be a little ’un, but she packs enough of a punch.”

A chuckle erupts from Carlos, which grows into a full-on belly laugh. “Touché, my fine sir.”

“What’s it going to be then?” I ask, limping to stand directly in front of the outnumbered bastard. “Feel like dying today?”

“You wouldn’t have it in you,” he sneers.

“Wouldn’t I?”

Carlos scoffs, moving to stand. “Bet you’ve never even taken a man’s life, you gutless fuck.”

“Hasn’t he?” Apex asks from where he’d been making a line for the garage. “Try him and see what happens.”

I glance across at the guy, surprised that
now
he decides to step up and defend me. Then again, if I shoot Carlos it sorts out yet another loose end for the fucker.

“Popped your cherry, huh?”

I swing my gaze back to Carlos, not keen to give him one up on me by being distracted for too long.

“It’s a bit like a tattoo,” I tell him. “You’re apprehensive about that first one, but once you get started”—I make a show of scratching myself with the butt of my gun—“you get that itch for more.”

“Fucking do it then,” he growls.

So I do. I take the invitation offered and pop a hole straight through his left shin. He screams out, reaching for his weapon when it gets kicked out of the way by the old boy

“Finish it then,” Carlos taunts through gritted teeth. “You know if you keep me alive your life won’t be worth it.”

I do. And as much as the thought of leaving him to breath his last on our clubhouse floor gives me a hard-on, I have to think for the future. I kill Carlos now, where does it stop? Are the Blood Eagles next? And what then when the next person moves in to have a go at taking the position of top dog?

“Why did you want us fighting the Eagles?” I ask, head cocked to the side. “What’s in it for you?”

Carlos chuckles, blood seeping between his fingers as he clutches his leg. “I’m not telling you fucking anything.”

I shoot his right leg—give him a matching pair.

His eyes turn black as night as he stares up at me, fighting back the howl of agony that he keeps caged behind clenched teeth. “Position, okay? That’s all I’m telling you.”

“What could they have that you need?” I’m genuinely stumped. He’s a cartel boss. They’re a bunch of bike-riding felons. No comparison, I would have thought.

“International reach.”

Of course.
The Blood Eagles hail from Europe. They have links to chapters in Norway, Sweden, and Denmark.

Apex steps up beside me and stares down at Carlos, a frown pulling his forehead into deep lines. “If we went to war, we would have killed those fuckers. You need them alive if you want their help getting into Europe.”

Carlos stares at Apex blankly for a beat, as though only realizing the gross error for himself. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Leave us out of it,” I say. “I’ll make you a deal. You agree to my terms, you walk away—or crawl as the case may be—with your lonely fuckin’ life intact.”

“What are the terms?” Carlos seethes.

“This club and anybody who belongs to it, patched member or family of one, are left alone—untouchable. If that means you have to provide fuckin’ protection when you know of danger, then so be it.”

“That can’t be all,” he says. “Surely?”

“Nope. Elena. You walk away and admit you fucked up, not her.”

His ice-cold eyes hold my gaze as he grinds his jaw left to right. “My life in exchange for forgetting your club and that whore of ours?”