Where Souls Spoil (64 page)

The car stops, and out steps a tall man with broad shoulders in an expensive as fuck black suit. From his olive skin tone to the suit on his back and the car he rolled up in, this is Mancuso’s guy. One of the guys behind me yells at the Italian to drop to the ground, but he doesn’t move. He raises his hands in the air and smiles just as two men step out from the woods wearing similarly pricey suits and holding guns that match the rifles I gave my men. My stomach drops as I realize we’re evenly matched and too far away from civilization for anyone to hear shots being fired.

And my evening goes from decent to fucked-up immediately.

Chapter 17

“YOU LOOK PANICKED.
Forgive me, Mr. Grady,” the man in the suit says. He smiles wide and rotates his wrists in the air. “I have been sent to deliver a message for Forsaken.”

The fact that this fuckhead knows my name makes this situation even worse. Having some Italian prima donna come at me is going to put me on edge no matter what. But here, at the safe house, it’s even worse. My nerves are fucking shot, and I have no doubt that this is the asshole who has big enough balls to come at my kid at her school. The gun itches in my hand as I focus my attention down the barrel and on his heart. If I didn’t need information out of him, I’d put a bullet in his chest right now and just take my chances on the guards having my back and taking out the other two. But taking him out doesn’t resolve anything.

“Who are you?” I shout, careful not to redirect my shot.

“I am a representative of Mr. Mancuso,” he says. I don’t even try to get a name out of him because he’s already decided what he’s going to give me. The best I can hope for is that Junior hears some of this, but keeps his mouth shut. Despite our soundproofing efforts, the cabin is old, and we don’t want anything inside that would tell a nosy sheriff that it’s anything more than an abandoned property that’s been subject to squatters.

“And the message?”

“Family is very important to Mr. Mancuso. He has requested the safe return of both Michael and Alexandra.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. The last place Princess is safe is with your organization,” I snap. It’s not something I call Alex often—Princess—but this guy is digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole. He went after my kid, and now he’s suggesting I’m too fucking stupid to know how much danger Alex would be in if we just let her go back to New York.

“Princess?” he asks. His smile falls. “So then you know how important Alexandra is to our family.”

“Kind of figured it out when Junior and his friends showed up. Too bad none of them made it back to New York to tell you how hospitable we are here on the West Coast,” I say. I suck in a deep breath and stand a little straighter. For the first time since he rolled up, I feel on even ground. The cocksucker may have caught me off guard, but now that I’ve found my footing, I’m thinking more clearly.

“It’s unfortunate that you aren’t more agreeable. I should advise you that I won’t be leaving without the Prince and the Princess. The length of my stay is entirely up to Forsaken.” His expression sours with every word he speaks.

“You will be leaving, and you’ll be doing it alone. It’s up to you if you do it in a pine box or on two feet.”

“I was hoping we could have come to an agreement, but I see now that you’re not the reasonable man that Ms. Mercer led me to believe you are. By the way, she spoke very highly of you. I hope that knowledge provides you even minor comfort in the coming days,” he says.

The moment Holly’s name falls from his lips, my stomach drops. I know for damn sure that he’s full of shit. Holly would never call me reasonable and unless asshole is a term of endearment, she wouldn’t speak highly of me, either. Still, he knows who she is and that puts me on edge. Days ago, when I let her leave my house, I knew this could happen. I knew letting her leave was a bad choice. Ice cold fear washes over me, but I say nothing. A callous smile spreads across his face, and his eyes practically dance. A man like him—one who knowingly storms onto Forsaken property with guns blazing—is dangerous and sadistic.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” I snap.

“A beautiful woman like Holly shouldn’t be left alone. I can see the appeal. She’s pretty when she’s calm, but it’s when she’s panicked and crying that she’s at her best. So angry and scared,” he says in a wistful way. His voice trails off at the end like he’s remembering something. I try to focus on the details, but it’s all getting clouded over by the way he’s talking about Holly. I shouldn’t have left her alone, but I did. She’s not my problem—or she shouldn’t be—and that’s where I’m stuck. I can barely manage everything I already have going on, but at every turn I’m making her my problem.
My priority
.

“Holly has nothing to do with this,” I say. My voice betrays me, the desperation showing through, and I lower my gun just slightly. I try to keep it where it was—aimed perfectly at his chest—but it’s too hard. I just want to drop it and run, but that wouldn’t be wise.
Holly’s hurt
.

“
Holly
has everything to do with this. You stole what was supposed to be mine. Alexandra was promised to me, and you took her. Do you believe in an eye for an eye, Mr. Grady?”

“There is nothing you can do, no place you can hide, and nothing that will save you if you’ve hurt Holly. I will separate your flesh from your bone with my bare hands,” I say. My gun falls lower as my heart rate peaks.

“She’s in pain, Mr. Grady. Torn from the inside out. I’m trying to work with your club, but you’ve been unwilling to cooperate. As a show of good faith, I will make you a deal. I want to meet with your charter president—right here, right now. He shows, and I’ll tell you where she is and how long she has left.”

I give up fighting this guy. He may have the balls to come up on Forsaken property without an invite, but he’s obviously calculated and in control. He’s competent enough to find a way to ensure my compliance.

Lifting my hands in the air, I take my finger off the trigger, click on the safety, and drop my gun on the ground. I lift the bottom of my cut on each side and turns in a full circle so he knows I don’t have another gun behind my back. I’m not stupid enough to carry my extra piece in a visible place. With two fingers, I carefully dig my cell out of my pocket, hit speed dial number five and bring the phone to my ear. It rings twice before he answers.

“Yeah?” Jim says on the other line. I can hear the television in the background and Alex playfully shouting at someone. Then Ryan’s voice pops up. He’s laughing and telling her to pipe down or he’s going to make her silent. Jim laughs into the phone and says, “Damn kids are adults, but they sure don’t act like it.”

“I need the full table at the safe house. Mancuso’s guys have paid us a visit,” I say. Asking for a full table is how we communicate that we need every man—patched or not—and we need them fully armed. The man before me shakes his head and makes a disapproving
tsk
with his mouth. “Scratch that. I need you to come alone.”

“Got it,” Jim says. Asking for the full table means I’m getting the full table, even if this asshole thinks I’m not. Jim will roll up alone, but the rest of the men we can spare will be in the shadows.

“And Pres?” I say to get Jim’s attention. “I need to check on Sweets.”

“I’ll send one of the guys by her place and have him call you once he knows something,” he says. After I gave Holly the nickname Sweets last week, the guys didn’t say anything about it. They just kind of picked it up without questioning me. Thank God for it, too. I don’t know what I would say if they did.

I hang up the phone and slip it back into my pocket. When I look at Mancuso’s guy, he’s much more relaxed. His hands are clasped in front of him. I’m sure he has a gun on him, but he hasn’t once drawn it.

“He’s on his way,” I say.

“Hopefully your president arrives soon. Ms. Mercer is a fighter, but one can only hold out so long with her injuries. She let me lay her down without much fight, but then her nerves got the best of her when I parted her legs. She was so tight, and slick, and needy. Have you not taken care of her properly?”

In an instant, I’ve grabbed my gun from the dirt and I’m on him. His backup moves just as quickly, and they both have their guns pointed at my head from less than five feet away. The barrel of my piece is but a few inches from pressing into his expensive suit. He doesn’t flinch or suck in a deep breath. His eyes widening slightly at my proximity is the only reaction he gives. He raises his hands in the air and motions for his guys to back off. It’s only now that I notice the guards are at my sides. They back up a few steps, but keep their focus and aim steady. We don’t speak, nor do we move an inch while we wait for Jim to arrive. I’ve shut myself down as much as I can, trying to feel nothing. I can’t have let it be this easy for her to get hurt.

Soon, the familiar rumble of Jim’s bike sounds. He gives us a wide berth as he pulls up beside me and cuts the engine. He’s totally silent as he hops off his Harley. Most of the time when I look at Jim Stone I don’t see the man he is now—aged and graying. He’s the age his father, Rage, was when he gave up the gavel. Rage didn’t immediately retire out to Nevada when he stepped down. He hung around for about six years before he couldn’t stand to look at Jim and Ruby together anymore. Once he lost Silvia, he lost himself.

“James Stone,” Asshole says. Jim gives him a short nod and places his hands on his hips.

“And you are?” Jim says. I wonder how long the fucking pleasantries are going to go on for before this asshole decides to tell me where Holly is.

“I am unimportant,” he says. “I have expressed to your friend here how incredibly important it is that I return to New York as soon as possible with both Alexandra and Michael, but so far he has been unreceptive to my requests.”

“And for good reason,” Jim says. “We made a long trip and have taken on a lot of heat to get Alex out of New York. Mancuso won’t be coming within five states of her.”

My phone rings in my pocket. I tuck my gun into the waistband of my jeans and step away from the crowd. The Caller I.D. tells me it’s Jeremy. “Yeah?”

“Sweets and Bean are MIA. I’ve checked their apartment, then Bean’s work, and then the high school. Nothing,” he says quickly. “I’m back at the apartment now. Their cars aren’t here, and there’s no lights on. You want me to break down the door?”

“Stay put.” I hang up the phone after giving the order and rejoin the group. When I return, Jim and Asshole have moved on from where they were. Now they’re discussing history.

“A company man like you should know that you’re not high enough on the totem pole to give a charter president orders,” Jim says.

“You don’t even know my name, let alone my rank, Mr. Stone. My place on the totem pole might surprise you,” the Italian says. The clock’s ticking. I don’t have time for them to whip ‘em out and measure their dicks.

“Pres, you’re looking at the asshole who Mancuso was going to marry Princess off to,” I say, pointing to the Italian. Then I point my finger to Jim and look at Asshole. “And you’re looking at the man who married Princess’s mom. Now that you got my president here, you can tell me where Holly is.”

“Princess’s mom?” Asshole asks. He looks from me to Jim with curious eyes.

“Holly Mercer!” I scream. I can feel it in my soul—I’m starting to crack. My senses are firing off like fireworks exploding in the night sky. Jim senses it. Asshole senses it. The douchebag Italians behind him sense it, and so do the guards. My fist shakes with the burning need to knock him the fuck out. Jim’s here now. It’s all he asked for in order to tell me where Holly is. He better make good on his word.

He has to.

“You have served your purpose, Ster—“. He places a finger over his lips to hush himself. “That’s right. You’re not a fan of your given name.” He’s playing with me.

“Now,” I yell. He smiles softly and nods.

“Very well. Now, pay attention, because I will not repeat myself. Thirty-nine, one, four, one, two, seven, four, sixty-eight. Negative one, two, and three. Eight hundred and ten, zero, and sixty-eight,” he rattles off so quickly I know I don’t catch it all. It’s not so much like he’s telling me a series of numbers as he’s playing a game with those numbers.

“That’s not a location,” I say.

“It is,” he insists. “And hurry—the degrees must be dropping by now, and it’s likely brackish.”

I look to Jim, who nods. I take off for my bike as quickly as I can. Once resting on the seat, I dial the only person I know who’s good enough with riddles to have even have a clue what all those numbers mean. Ian picks up on the first ring, to my immense relief.

“Knuck,” he says, using my nickname.

“Holly and Mindy are missing. Mancuso’s guy has them somewhere. Asshole gave me a bunch of numbers and said some seriously cryptic shit, but none of it made any sense.”

“You sure? I got a red line on one of his guys right now,” he says. Of course. I told Jim we needed a full table. Everybody we can spare is up here right now. We probably got at least four guys in those woods with sniper rifles on these assholes.

“Positive.”

“Meet me at the highway,” he says and hangs up. Turning the bike on and revving her up, I tear down the dirt road and make it to the highway in record time. I swing onto Highway 101, heading north. It’s not even a half mile before I see Ruby’s red Suburban parked off to the side. I pull up behind it and cut the engine. Ian strides over to me with a laptop in one hand and snaps his fingers together with the other.

“I caught thirty-nine, one four, and a few other numbers. Then negative one and sixty-eight, but there were a few numbers between those, too. He said to hurry because the degrees are dropping and it’s brackish?” I say in frustration. I should have paid better attention so I could remember it all.

“Brackish? Like water is brackish?” he asks me. I shrug.

“Fuck if I know,” I say.