Us (20 page)

Chapter
31 – J

The plan
was set. All the brothers were on board and at the St. Louis clubhouse, save the prospect and two brothers who stayed in KC with Fernie and Isabel. Fernie had begged me to come along, saying he owed it to Elle. I saw his point, and he did owe her a lot, but she'd be devastated if he was hurt trying to save her. She'd never forgive herself, and I couldn't have that hanging over my head. Not when I was about to go into battle.

Son had made contact with the rich fuck who was holding my girl. Just like Pole said, they wanted a trade: one million for Elle and Chris. They wanted me to come alone with the money to the address they had listed. Right...

We were going in forty deep. Dig not only recruited members from MM, but he'd gotten a couple Zetas onboard citing that Burns had to go if they wanted to keep their deal with the Delmarcos intact. As well, he used Isabel, saying Burns would go after her as well if it came down to it. That got them on board, and they offered up ten men and an arsenal of weapons. He also pulled in an independent MC in Iowa, a club we'd helped out in the past when they needed funds and manpower when a larger club out of Chicago had tried to force them to patch over. They liked their autonomy, and we liked their willingness to lend a hand to MM when asked.

I felt ready to take over a damn country.

With Son's intel, he was able to pull up an aerial shot of the house I'd be going to. It was on the edge of Chesterfield, a ways out from the Greater St. Louis Area, slightly remote, but still fancy as fuck. Son was also able to hack into the city's computer system and found out who owned the house. It was in the name of one of the Cardinals, but we all had a feeling that wasn't who we'd be dealing with. This particular ball player had run into rough times two years ago. He'd kept the house and his bank account was full again, so someone helped him out. Thank God for Son and his tech skills. Likely the owner of the house would make himself scarce, letting whatever Senator or CEO that bailed him out use the place for his dirty work. The question still remained, though, how did Burns hook up with these people? I had no idea, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever find out. My list of things to ask Burns was short. It was one question really: Are you ready to die? I didn't care about his answer, I just wanted him to know he
would
be dying and it
wouldn't
be quick or painless.

"Run through it one more time with everyone, Dig." We were assembled in the main Hall in St. Louis, the back parking lot filled with bikes and SUVs.

"J will go in solo, just like requested. Once in, you guys," Dig pointed at the Zetas, "will need to take out the guards, and you'll need to do it quietly. I take it ya all have silencers?" The Zetas nodded. Fuck, they had more than just silencers. They'd come strapped and with an SUV full of arms for the rest of us. We'd be in their debt, but Dig hoped to pay it off with money, not services. "Link, you'll take your men around the back of the house. There's a perimeter fence you'll need to get over, but you shouldn't have any problems once the Zetas take out the guards. Idaho, you guys take the west side of the house, and I'll take my men around the east side. Cash, you wait with the prospect. Once J is in, Son will be able to see what we're dealing with through this." Dig pointed at the MM pin on my cut that Son had managed to fit a tiny camera in. I had no idea how the hell the shit worked, only that it would give Son a constant feed, but I had to make sure to turn around a few times so he could see everything he was dealing with.

"Each group leader has a burner. You only answer the number programed into it. That's my number. I'll be in contact with Son once he knows how many we're dealing with inside and out, and I'll give ya
all direction. No one moves unless I tell them to. We fuck this up and not only do the women get hurt, but Burns gets away, and that is not happening on my watch. Any questions?"

Damn, Dig was in full on military mode. Had he done this before? That was a question for another day.

When no one asked any questions, Dig motioned for us all to mount up, either on bikes or in an SUV. I tossed a bag full of counterfeit money in the SUV the prospect was driving. I wasn't going in with the money. They'd have to hand over the women first. If that happened, I'd act like I was going to get the money, "money" I had just in case, but in reality I had no plans to hand over anything to the fucker who kidnapped my woman. He'd likely be dying today, and like the last life I took, I again hoped today would be my last day as a monster. I was tired of killing, tired of the weight on my shoulders. Without Elle's light, my back was tired of carrying the baggage of close to a decade of assassinations.

When we were close to our destination, Dig had everyone stop to make sure one more time that
each team knew their places. Once he was satisfied, I set off on foot to rescue the woman I loved, a woman who shouldn't need rescuing, but did because of her involvement with me. As I walked closer to the house, I swore to myself I'd never let something like this happen again. I tried to protect her and failed, but after today there shouldn't be anyone left to protect her against, except maybe me.

As I approached the house, I took stock of every detail, making sure to turn around a few times so Son could see what was happening
through the laptop he'd be glued to while waiting in one of the SUVs. The house sat apart from the rest, an island in a sea of prefab mansions. As I walked up to it, I saw two men standing at the end of a long driveway waiting for me. They knew I was coming of course. I'd shoved my gun deep into my boot anticipating a pat down. Neither man spoke as I approached. Once I was in front of them, I put my arms out so they could pat me down, a single bead of sweat traversing its way down the side of my face.

They must have seen my willingness to be patted down as a sign I wasn't carrying because their search was half assed, never even getting close to the gun in my boot. When finished, one motioned me with his gun to go inside while the other man opened the front door. I walked into a kitchen with a dining area off to the side. It looked like there was a living room off of the dining room. I angled my body so Son could see everything happening and the layout of the house. From the schematics he'd been able to pull up online, there should've been a hallway behind the living room with six doors on either side. 

There were three men in the kitchen. Two were obviously the muscle as they both were well over six feet with dark suits and guns in their hands. Both guns were pointed at me. The third man was in his forties and appeared to have eaten one too many Big Macs. I assumed he was the owner of the house or the man who bailed the Cardinal out.

"So glad you could join us." He smiled like we were old friends, though the malice in his eyes contradicted his words. "I take it you have the money?"

"I have it. Show me the women."

"Show me the money." He laughed, like a Cuba Gooding Jr. impersonation was the funnies
t thing he'd ever heard. Both of his body guards sneered at me, and laughed at Fatty's joke.

"I see the women, you see the money." There was no room for negotiations in my voice.

"Fine. Lester, come with me. Ted, keep that gun on him." Fatty sighed and turned to the living room. "And don't try anything. My guys outside have eyes in here too," he threw over his shoulder as he exited the kitchen.

I felt the phone in my pocket vibrate as soon as Fatty was out of
sight, my signal that the brothers were on the move. Seconds ticked by, and I felt my phone vibrate again, the second signal—the one letting me know the outside was clear. I stood in front of Ted, his gun still aimed at my head, safety off, and waited. Barely a minute passed before Cash was busting though the door. The minute Ted took his eyes off me I grabbed the gun out of my boot and shot him square between the eyes. His body fell backwards, hitting the counter and landing on the ground with a thud.

I nodded to Cash and we waited for Lester and Fatty to return.

Chapter
32 – Elle

Chris was lying on the bed, her hand thrown over her eyes. We'd been locked up for hours without food or water. I was pacing the room, ready to throw punches at whoever decided to walk though the door. My mind was filled with thoughts, some good and others not so great, but mostly they were thoughts of J. He'd be out of his mind searching for me. I could only assume this was Burns again, probably pissed his men failed miserably in Mexico.

"Chris." I called to her in a hushed tone as soon as I heard footsteps coming down the hall. She bolted up like a true soldier called to attention. Coming to my side, we both stood and waited, hands balled into fists.

"I hear more than one person," she whispered.

"I know. You ready?"

"Always." She barely got her word out before the door was opening and we were staring at what had to be a bodyguard and a short, fat man. He was a seedy little fucker, his eyes beady and both his chins moving as he smiled at us. Fuckin' Fat Fuck acted like it was his birthday or something.

"Ladies. So glad to see you both are ready." His saccharine smile made bile rise in my throat.

"What do you want with us?" Chris' eyes were hard as she spoke, her voice filled with the same malice I felt burning inside me.

"Well, there are many things I would like to do to you. For starters, I'd like to hear you beg
as I tie your hands to a pole and fuck you from behind." He ran his finger down the side of Chris' face.

"Fuck you." Chris smacked his hand away.

"Now, now." Fat Fuck raised his hand and swung it across Chris' cheek, the one he'd just touched with his filthy finger. "As much as I'd love to break you down to nothing, to hear you beg me for mercy, I want my money more." He was no longer smiling, his voice taking on an air of dominance, like he could actually break Chris.

He had no idea who he was dealing with. We weren't girls who begged for mercy. We suffered in silence, sometimes praying death would come, but never begging for it. I shook the mental images from my past, clearing my head of everything save the men in front of me and my will to live, to see J, and to be done with this shit.

"Follow me." Fat Fuck turned and walked out the door, his bodyguard motioning for Chris and me to follow.

I did a mental inventory of everything we passed, every open door and more so the closed ones. We went through a long hallway before emerging into a living room. Had I not been afraid for my life, the grand opulence of it all would have amazed me. As it was, I didn't have time for admiring chandeliers and Warhol paintings.

I never fucking liked Warhol anyway.

I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of a book bag covered in hippie patches. It was tossed on a chair in the living room with ear buds and electronics overflowing from it. It was a teenager's, as only a teen could so carelessly toss over two thousand dollars worth of devices so haplessly on an overstuffed chair.

What the fuck was a kid doing living in a house where people were held captive in back rooms?

"Walk,
chica."

I felt Chris nudge me, not realizing I'd been staring that long. I shook my head out
once again and kept following Fat Fuck, unsure of where he was taking us or what his plans were. He walked like he was in no hurry with no place in particular to be. I knew that couldn't be farther from the truth.

He was taking us somewhere.

I balled my hands into fists, readying myself for whatever lie ahead. We passed though a dining room next, and as we emerged into the kitchen my heart began to race. J was standing with a brother, both in their cuts. In front of them, a man was dead in a pool of his own blood. In a matter of seconds, chaos ensued.

"
Lester!" Fat Fuck called to the bodyguard with us and pulled a gun from a holster concealed beneath his blazer. Before he could get it out, J's club brother shot him in the leg. I grabbed Chris and pulled her to the side in the kitchen, barely stopping Lester from shoving us to the ground in order to get to his boss. He wasn't quick enough as he soon had a bullet in his head. I looked up to see J's arm still held in the air. He kicked the gun out from Fat Fuck.

"Cash, take them outside." The voice came from the man I loved, but it was a voice I'd never heard before. It was empty, void of emotion.
He aimed his gun at Fat Fuck on the ground.

"Stop!" I looked at the asshole
lying on the ground bleeding out from his leg, and stepped back as blood inched closer to my shoes. "He has kids."

"What?" J asked, still aiming the gun at
Fat Fuck's head.

"I saw shit. A kid lives here
. We're killing in a house that belongs to someone's father."

"Baby, what do you want me to do? I can't let him go,
regardless of if a father lives here. Fatty here would kill us just as soon as we'd let him go. And this isn't even his house. It's the house of a ballplayer he likely bailed out of debt."

"But some kid lives here." I thought of my cubs. "
Can you flip him?" I nodded to the man who lay dying on the kitchen floor. "Make him work for you?" I was grasping at straws.

"I'd rather not." J was direct, never taking his eyes off the man who lay dying on the flo
or of a kitchen in a Cardinal's mansion. What a way to go.

"Fuck. Do it." I gave in.

"I do this, and then the four of us are gone. Ready?"

I thought one more time about the situation in front of me, running through my head how it
happened that I found myself in front of a dying man. Would this be my life? Would we be killing mothers soon too? I had options, and they all sucked. Kill, or be killed. Fuck. I chose to live.

I was about to nod as J
inched the gun higher. "Wait!"

I ran out of the kitchen and through the living room. I started throwing doors open one after another, looking in ever
y room we'd passed through the long hallway.

"What are you doing,
girl?" Chris was following behind me, watching me wildly search for something.

"My purse.
It might be in one of these rooms."

I threw open the door I'd suspected all along. A large desk sat in front of a window overlooking the manicured lawn. On the couch was my fossil purse, though more importantly, the SOA knife Fernie has given me. I grabbed my
bag to find Chris pocketing...

She mu
st've felt my stare on her back, because she spoke without turning around.

"Fucktard had us locked in a back room, and this shit's worth some cash." I watched Chris rifling through drawers of a hutch and taking anything valuable—a necklace, three rings, a jade elephant. I started counting down from ten, letting her know she was on a time limit. When I reached one, I headed for the door. Chris followed and we wound our way back through the hallway and living room toward the kitchen. I stopped at the dining room table with the backpack, and dug through it.

"What are
you
doing?" Chris would have put her hands on her hips if they hadn't been full of shit to pawn.

"Shit." I stared at the backpack, considering taking it. Did I really want to do it? Take a kid's shit for my own means, especially something I didn't necessarily need?

I shrugged. "Fuck it," I said turning away from the iPad I had contemplated taking. It wasn't a Kindle, but I could've read my smutty books on it. The book bag belonged to a girl most likely, judging from the flowery patches, a girl who would soon be fatherless. If the Cardinal was in on this, he'd be in deep shit when the people pulling his strings realized the plan had failed. It was doubtful his daughter would miss the iPad considering she might be going to a funeral soon, yet I couldn't bring myself to take it. Like Fernie, she was an innocent bystander in what the most fucked up situation I'd ever found myself in.

"Let's go," I told Chris.

We came back to find J still holding the gun and Fat Fuck pleading for his life. J's face was ice, like that which once covered my heart. He was in monster mode, and I felt a shiver run through me as I realized I'd never seen him like this. He'd closed himself off, shut down his emotions so he could do what needed to be done.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah." I nodded.

I stared at the gun with a silencer attached to the end of it.

Shit got real.

Fuck.