How’s Whisper?
I look up to the sky, my face catching the falling snowflakes and let out a big whoosh of air, then I let my head flop forward.
Fuuuck!
I can’t tell Boxer she’s drugged and got holes in her hands and feet. I can’t tell him her damaged lips are snuggled into my neck, or that she’s naked in my arms beneath a thick winter coat, one of my brothers handed me. Her only other salvation against the freezing cold are the two blankets wrapped around her body, attempting to keep her legs and feet warm. I can’t tell him she’s okey-dokey—because she’s fucking not!
I inhale deeply and let out my breath slowly, producing a puff of mist in front of my face, as I quickly type my neutral response and shove the phone back in my pocket.
I hate her lips are swollen.
I hate she’s been nailed to a table.
I hate she’s had her tongue cut.
I hate she spent twenty years with my father.
I fuckin’ HATE… I shot her.
I’ve finally got her in my arms, and no motherfucker is ever gonna hurt her again. It’s a vow I silently make as I adjust her limp body and cradle her closer to my beating heart, trying to keep her as warm as I can until the helicopters arrive.
I pull out my phone again and text Slade. He’s Boxer’s go to man, which pisses me off, but I’ve accepted the reality he at least trusts Slade. No names are to be used in front of the minions or perverts. We keep our voices hushed low or we message via cell phones.
Me: Where the fuck is the Agusta?
We should be on it and out of here instead of waiting for helicopters
Slade: Couldn’t risk any of the roaches scuttling about being tempted to escape
Adam’s moved it to a clearing close by
He will collect Ghost later and meet up with us
Adam too valuable to the suits
Too risky keeping him inside Cezar’s house
Me: Fuck’s sake
Now minions and perverts can ID Mathias
Slade: Not for us to question
What’s done is done
We were never here
Slade is right, we were never here. I look over and give him a resigned nod as I wrap my hands in a small bit of the blanket to keep them covered, trying to retain some of my own body heat. I’ve got thermals on underneath my suit, but it’s so fucking cold. My only concern is for Whisper and keeping her from freezing to death.
I avert my attention to the handcuffed perverts and minions. Their heads are bowed in despair, visibly shake from the cold, probably thinking about how fucked-up-the-ass they are.
Then a thought hits me, bringing with it a wicked smile… somebody should have thought of it earlier. “Strip these dickwads of their outer clothes and any of the knee-high sock/stocking things they are wearing. Let them be the vulnerable ones,” I shout.
Fuck them!
We still needed them alive for interrogation by the alphabet squad, so we can’t freeze the fuckers to death, but we could strip them down a little.
My brothers murmur in agreement and the deed gets done. Then the items are being distributed by Lethal and Blueblood.
Lethal kneels down beside me and carefully rolls thick, knee-high stockings onto Whisper’s feet and up her thin legs, blood staining them straight away. Then a long, heavily embroidered, royal blue coat is being tucked around her body. Lethal then drapes a thick, purple cape around my shoulders, tieing a neat bow at my neck before handing me gloves. He grabs my uninjured arm and gives it a squeeze, telling me with that silent gesture that we’re all doing okay. And then he’s up on his feet and walking over to Phoenix to hand her a jacket.
I look down at my girl, thankful she’s now warmer. Her painted-up face and swollen lips can be made out by the lights lining the pier, and I have to tamp down my rage for the fuckers who hurt her so badly, without any remorse.
The drug I stuck her with is her closest friend at the moment. Her breathing is steady; her pulse is normal. I’m thankful she’s feeling no pain.
“Babe, we got them for you,” I murmur for her ears only, even though she’s out cold. I fear she may not want to hear anything I’ve got to say when she’s conscious and aware. “They’re either barbecued crispy or going to be getting a one-way ticket to jail. I’m gonna protect you from here on out, you have my word.
“Cezar is dead, babe, and that depraved motherfucker can’t be put back together. Some of my club brothers’ are here with me, just as I told you they would, standing by me to help rescue you, and the other women. Doc Evelyn is coming soon to give you the medical attention you badly need, and Boxer is waiting for you in Connard with Miss Catherine, although I don’t doubt he’s on a plane right now coming here to see you. He had to pull a few strings to get this mission underway, and even though he couldn’t be here to help, he did a fuckin-A1 job getting us all organized.”
I want to tell her we avenged the stolen lives that were lost—but the debt is too great. Too many innocent lives ruined and snuffed out, too many families affected. There is no retribution to be paid in full to be extracted from my father or Cezar—seems so fucking unfair. Chrissake! Those inhuman bastards deserved so much more than getting barbecued or shot. They deserved my vengeance—every last one of the fuckers. It feels unfinished business to me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering how self-righteous I was when I thought my father’s bitch deserved to be struck down and tortured, then left dead and buried in a grave. But Whisper wasn’t his bitch. She was his prisoner, his puppet—his pet!
How deep had I fallen?
I will Whisper to come out of this the champion fighter that I know she has proven to be, because she needs hearts and flowers, like she needs air to breathe. I want to be the one to give her those flowers.
I want Whisper to be able to look at me the way she did in that bar—pure fucking innocence—followed-up by total sexual abandonment, as she came for me on my bike.
My sweet and wild girl.
I want to be that fucking selfish.
But she not only knows I’m William’s son, she also wears the scar from the bullet hole I put in her. A reminder of the untrustworthy asshole I am and what lengths of violence I’m willing to go to, for my own personal satisfaction. I fucked-up good and proper. I took her virginity and then I tried to steal her life away from her—retribution controlling my actions. I want her to give me a chance to explain, but I deserve none of her time. And what explanation could validate what I did to her? There is none.
I look to my right and notice the Norwegian, who is several feet away, sitting awkwardly, like he’s in pain. He’s in his own head, cradling Ruby tight with the blanket wrapped around her corpse, as though her heart still beats.
That’s one fucked-up mission he’s been on; it can do things to a man’s head. The realization it’s all over now and Cezar’s dead, will have mixed emotions playing through his mind because it cost Ruby her life. His demons haunt him as he retraces the steps prior to her being shot, wishing he could have been there to change the outcome.
“Hey,” Phoenix says softly, sitting down on my left side. She’s dressed head to toe in black, including a Kevla vest, like all my brothers here. Her dreadlocks are bound beneath a black bandana, which is being spotted with white snowflakes. “How’s she doing?” The concern in her voice for my sweet and wild girl is strong.
She gently brushes the hair away from Whisper’s face, revealing the makeup and the pink ribbon I’ve sliced through, which hangs in pieces from her lips. “Shit.” Phoenix looks up at me, the reality of what Whisper must have been going through starting to sink in. “Can I remove those pieces of ribbon for her?” she asks me, adding on, “I’ll be gentle.”
“It’s the least of her worries,” I grunt back, adjusting her body. “Just be fucking gentle, she’s had enough pain with her hands and feet, and whatever else those fuckers have done to her.” My voice almost breaks from the ache I’m feeling in my chest, for her fucked-up life. “Motherfucker had her nailed to a table… Jesus-style,” I spit out, my anger resurfacing.
A noise escapes Phoenix of barely contained horror.
“Christ!” she exhales, masking her disgust when I look over at her. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”
“Thank you.” Slade was right about Phoenix. Having her here will be good for Whisper.
She gives me a reassuring smile and starts carefully slipping the pieces of chopped up ribbon out of the rings, which have been hooked into her badly swollen lips. I want the rings taken out now, but I don’t want her to bleed anymore than she already is.
I look to the skies, my patience is waning. Where are those fucking helicopters?
When Phoenix is done she pockets the strips of ribbon and sits fidgeting like she has something she wants to get off her chest.
“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”
“I’ve watched you over these past weeks, Edge”—she lowers her voice and fidgets with the buttons on her newly acquired jacket—“when I first heard what you had done to Whisper, my opinion of you was pretty low to say the least, but I’ve watched you and the truth is… you’re a man worth knowing. You’re a dangerous man, I don’t doubt that, but you also have a heart that beats hoping to one day find someone that is going to be your forever.”
I shift uncomfortably. Our breaths mingle like little white ghosts before disappearing.
She continues chattering away. “I can see your heart has already jumped ahead of itself and it wants Whisper. But what if she doesn’t want you?”
And my balls just dropped on the ground and rolled away.
This female is blunt. She doesn’t sugar coat it and offer words laced with bullshit. She calls it how she sees it—a spade is a spade—unless you can convince her otherwise.
Phoenix is protective of my girl. She needs somebody who will step up for her and watch her back when she needs it, and that’s what Phoenix is doing now—doesn’t mean I gotta like what I’m hearing.
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” My soul aches for my sins against Whisper and the sins of my father, doesn’t mean I got the patience to sit here and listen to Phoenix throwing it in my face.
“You gonna be all right with that?” And the woman just keeps on yapping.
Fuck. No!
I narrow my eyes at her letting her know this conversation needs to take a hike. The truth can bludgeon a man quicker than a baseball bat.
She takes the hint, jerking her chin in the Norwegian’s direction. “How’s the other guy doing?”
“News Flash: He’s spent X amount of years undercover, he’s holding a dead girl who was pregnant, she’s got a hole the size of my hand in her chest.” I’m beginning to stew in a big bowl of my own shitty mood. I don’t mince my words either. “He’s mourning Rose and the fact he couldn’t save her.”
And then a thought occurs to me: Was the baby the Norwegian’s? I keep it to myself because voicing it aloud, if it were true, isn’t gonna help the poor bastard.
“Rose’s real name is Ruby, and she was one of our club strippers before she went missing, nearly a year ago. I didn’t know her well, just knew of her, and she didn’t deserve any of this. We thought she was dead this whole time. Ruby got to one-up him and take something back for herself—even if it was only for a heartbeat.”
We both go silent shutting the conversation down. The kid in Ruby Roses’ belly was fucked from the start, if it belonged to Cezar.
I roll my head from shoulder to shoulder watching the monstrous orange blaze—snap, crackle and pop. The fierce flames licking the sky are the only noises that can be heard in the night, as we all wait not so patiently for our transport to arrive.
The temperature keeps dropping. I can’t control a shiver that runs through my body, making me worry if Whisper was warm enough. We need to be outta here sooner than later.
Finally, we can hear the sounds of helicopters as they cut their way through the night sky.
Phoenix gets to her feet and bends down towards me. “Here, pass her over while you get up.”
I hesitate, not wanting Whisper to leave my arms and then Slade’s deep voice can be heard on my right.
“Hey, Mathias.” He’s crouched down next to the Norwegian, who isn’t batting an eyelid at Slade. “We’re going to skip introductions for now, but you can trust every man and woman here to have your back.” He taps him with one finger to his forehead. “We got some helicopters coming right now to get you and Rose out of here, which means it’s time for us to move, buddy. You look like you could use a hand getting up.” There’s still no response. “Okay, then we’re gonna do this my way. You just keep a hold of Rose and I’ll do the rest.” Slade grabs him under the armpits, while Mathias clutches Ruby’s swaddled body in his arms. “Come on big guy,” he groans, pulling them both up. “I got you and Rose.” He uses the name ‘Rose’ trying to break through to the guy.
The Norwegian is vertical, his eyes blinking as though he’s come back into his head. “The sword she used… I put it there. It was for me to finish the fucker off with.” So much regret laces his words. “She shouldn’t have died. I was ready to finish the kuksuger off—it should have been me,” he confesses, his eyes meeting mine.
“Fuck!” Slade and I say in unison.