Finn walked into the hideout and immediately scanned the big, crumbling building for any traps, any one waiting behind a dark corner for him. Even with his own crew old habits died hard.
The old factory had been split up, essentially. The biggest space used for a hang out. It even had a makeshift bar. Granted the only thing it had stocked was piss masquerading as beer and whisky that might just as well have been gasoline but still, it kept the men happy.
The large back room had been converted into an office. That’s where Finn had spent most of his time, planning exactly how they would go after the Roadburners. A lot of fucking good that did me.
Finn rolled his eyes at the thought trying to keep his ever present anger under control. Every time he remembered what had happened at the Roadburners shootout, every time memories of Jackrabbit and Hatchet rose in his mind, the anger was there. Rage like lava boiling just under the surface, ready to explode at any moment.
Several eyes turned his way as he entered the main area and Finn quickly catalogued his crew. Dread settled in his gut at how many sets of eyes were missing.
There was Patch, sitting over in the corner at one of the mismatched tables and chairs they’d scraped together. He was cleaning his fingernails with the tip of a pocket knife, his one good eye squinting at him. The other one was covered with an eyepatch painted a violent shade of red with a crude drawing of an eyeball in the middle.
Next to him sat Mac. He towered over Patch, was nearly as tall as Finn himself and that was saying something. His face was smooth and clean shaving but his dark hair was long and pulled back roughly at the nape of his neck. Mac was quiet, rarely spoke, but Finn knew the man was tough as nails when it came down to it. Mac sent Finn a slow, respectful nod that he returned.
It took Finn another minute of looking to see the tall, lanky man sitting against the back wall. He was older, his hair going grey around the edges but only a fool would mistake him for weak or feeble. Butcher watched Finn with the dark eyes of a hawk, never blinking, not giving anything away. Just waiting.
The only part of him that moved was his left hand, his fingers testing the edge of the deadly sharp cleaver he had strung to his belt. His weapon of choice. It’s how he’d gotten his name, Butcher. And it also was scary as hell.
Although Finn and the rest of the crew knew all you had to do was talk to the man for five minutes to realize he was more interested in literature and fine wine that actually using the thing. Finn was pretty sure he just like the theatricality of it.
At the makeshift bar made of old pallets and crates sat the only other man in the room, Rooster. Like normal, he had a sour look on his face. The man took his time drowning another pint of what passed for a beer before shooting a narrowed eyed glare in Finn’s direction.
“So, you decided to come back after all.” Rooster sneered, the anger and alcohol evident in his voice. “Well, aren’t you just a stupid fucking bastard. Dumber than I thought.”
“Enough, Rooster,” Killian broke in, his soft accent cutting through Rooster’s words like a knife.
Finn shook his head, but he couldn’t blame the man for being pissed. Shit, he was pissed too. He deserved their blame.
“It’s fine, Killian.”
“No, it’s really not, boss,” Killian shot back, still sending Rooster a hard look, “Or are you no longer our leader? Our president?”
Finn took a deep breath, looking at what was left of his crew. “I know I fucked up. When we first set out to take down the Roadburners, you made the choice to follow me–.”
“You promised us money!” Rooster squawked from behind another glass of beer, “You promised us it would be easy pickin’s.”
“I never said it would be easy,” Finn clarified, splitting his gaze between all the men, “But I’m giving you the same choice now as I did eight months ago when we started this. Stay with me, follow my orders, or leave and go your own way.”
Finn paused, looking around the room, waiting as patiently as he could. Mac stood to his first, a resolute expression on his face.
“Yeah, I’ll fucking follow you no matter what, Finn. You’re our leader. I don’t give a fuck what Rooster said, I’m loyal to you, and to the M60’s.” He nodded once before sitting back down, the old chair creaking precariously under his weight.
Finn cast a sideways glance at Rooster who was pouting now behind his drink. He couldn’t help but wonder just what, exactly, the other man had said in his absence.
That would have to wait because Butcher was already rising to his feet. He tilted his head giving Finn a considering look before he opened his mouth, his voice surprisingly cultured coming out of that haggard face.
“As mac so eloquently stated, you are our leader. I will follow thee until the morning sun rises twice in one day, until these mortal coils are slackened, I will follow thee until death’s sweet welcome.” The older man finished his recitation, hand to chest in full dramatic pose before ending with a slight bow and retaking his seat.
Finn didn’t know whether to shake his head or applaud but before he could do either Patch was already speaking. Patch’s good eye was trained on him with a serious light in its blue depths.
“I’m with you. Always have been. Always will be.” Short, gruff, and to the point. Finn wouldn’t expect anything else from the man that was more rough edges than anything else. Finn nodded as he looked around the room, finally stopping on Killian.
The man was a giant, taller than Finn by a few good inches and just as broad. His long beard and shagging dark blond hair made him look like a Viking but he spoke with an Irish accent that softened the effect.
“And what about you?” Finn forced himself to ask. He’d been telling the truth. Any of these men could leave any time they wanted. The choice was theirs. He knew exactly how it felt to be forced to do something you detested, something that killed whatever goodness was left inside.
Killian’s brows rose in surprise at Finn’s question.
“You have ta ask, boss?” Killian shook his head, “Of course I’m with you. Always, mate. Most of us, hell all of us, wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. I’d be ashamed of the man who tried to betray you after everything you’d done for him.” That last was said with a pointed look at the man sitting at the bar and Rooster shrugged uncomfortably under the scrutiny.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m here, ain’t I?” Rooster said petulantly, “I’m not fucking leaving now.”
It wasn’t exactly the declaration of loyalty Finn had been expecting, but he knew it was all he would get from the surly man. Rooster had a chip on his shoulder a mile wide, had since Finn had first saved him from getting the shit kicked out of him by a rival gang and offered him a spot on the M60’s. He didn’t think it would ever change. If anything, it had only grown worse over the past few months.
Rooster finally glanced in Finn’s direction, his beady eyes growing wide in surprise and then narrowing with some dark glee as they landed on the woman he still had cradled in his arms. Finn had nearly forgotten he was still holding her and something about the greasy look Rooster was shooting at Hannah made him want to punch the man square in his beak of a nose.
“Who’s the bitch?” Rooster sneered with a slick grin and for a second Finn saw red.
“This is…” Finn paused, struggling to find the right words. How could he describe her? Hannah was beautiful, smart, way more clever than he was. She was quick and witty and brave as hell. And strong. Stronger by far than he would have given her credit for. “This is our Hannah. Hannah Donohue. She’s going to be our…guest for a while.”
“Guest, huh?” Rooster sneered and Finn instinctively tightened his grip on her slight form.
“No one is to hurt her, understood? She’s a…let’s just call her a bargaining chip. And she’s the best advantage we have at the moment.”
Rooster’s grin widened, growing even greasier, “Maybe I could get a closer look at her advantages, eh?”
Finn had just opened his mouth to shut Rooster, and his unnecessary comments down when he noticed another missing face.
“Killian, where’s Half Pint?” Finn scanned the room again. Five. Five men where there, not including himself. He’d come with nine. Talon, Cobra, and Ink had all been gunned down at the shoot out, but there was one man missing that should have been there. “Where the fuck is Tommy?”
“I’m right here, boss. Geez. You don’t have to treat me like a kid you know.” Tommy, more commonly called Half Pint by the crew because of his age, walked out from the back office, “You guys were obviously in the middle of something.” He grinned as he walked close and Finn shook his head, wondering for the thousandth time since taking the kid in, why the hell he’d done it.
Tommy Pierson was only nineteen. He’d barely scraped through school and was on the track to spend the rest of his life in prison. Finn had picked him up trying to sell drugs to high school kids only to find out the kid was homeless, starving. Without a family. A hell of a lot like himself at that age.
So, Finn had offered him a different choice, a different life, and Tommy had ridden with them ever since. But Finn had made sure to keep him at the hideout and away from the worst of the action.
Tommy’s eyes widened as he drew close enough to see Hannah cradled in his arms.
“What have you got there, boss? Whoa!” Finn could see the flush on Tommy’s face as he caught sight of her close up. “What are you doing with that old lady?”
Finn shook his head. The kid had been trying to pick up slang from the other men but it never worked.
“She’s not anybody’s old lady,” Finn finally said, looking down at his captive, “She’s leverage.”
***
Rachael Donohue couldn’t keep the smile off of her face as she stared down at the six pound seven ounce bundle of joy that she held cradled in her arms. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect in every way.
“Cassie, my sweet Cassie,” Rachael murmured, sweeping a finger over the baby’s soft cheek. It felt like she was dreaming. She still almost couldn’t believe it. “I’m your mom. Am I’m going to be a damn good one.”
“Of course you are, baby.” Jackrabbit’s voice interrupted and she looked up from the hospital bed. She still had a few more days stuck in the infernally boring place. The dream melted away as harsh reality reared its head.
“Any word? Did you find her? Did daddy find her?” Rachael blurted the questions out in a rush.
“Your father might be the sheriff of Mayville but he’s not omniscient. He’s got every trooper out looking for your sister.” Jackrabbit came close, taking one of her hands in his so they were both holding their baby daughter. “Don’t worry Rae, we’ll find you. You just need to rest.”
“Rest? You don’t understand, Johnny,” Rachael pleaded. She was the only one that ever used his real name. “Hannah wouldn’t do this. She doesn’t just disappear. She doesn’t run away. Something happened. I know something did. She was supposed to be here two days ago.”
“I know, baby, I know,” Jackrabbit said, trying to soothe her but all it did was make her feel more anxious. She knew her twin. Nothing would stop her from seeing her niece. Not unless she was stopped by something, or someone, else.
They stayed there like that for a long time, both holding their child, both lost in their own thoughts. A knock on the door startled them both but a moment later Hatchet’s familiar face was peeking into the room.
Hatchet glanced at Rachael and his gaze softened. “Hi Rae, how’s the baby? How are you?”
“Cassie is perfect. I would be a hell of a lot better if I knew where my sister was.” Rachael said through gritted teeth. She felt like everyone was walking on eggshells around her.
“Right, about that,” Hatchet hesitated for a moment, “Jackrabbit, can I talk to you out here for a moment?”
“Hell no! Anything you have to say, you can say it right her, Hatchet!” Rachael demanded, keeping a firm hold on Jackrabbit’s hand, “Don’t make me get Elsie.” Hatchet blanched at the mention of his wife, who just happened to be Rachael’s best friend.
“Fine, fine,” Hatchet said after a moment, “No need to get vicious.” Rachael grinned in victory, missing Jackrabbit’s eye roll. Considering the situation, that was probably a good thing.
“Now, tell me what’s going on. What did you find out about Hannah?”
Hatchet swallowed hard, looking uncertain for a moment, and then resigned as he started to speak.
“We searched the house. We know that was the last place she was. We started looking around the perimeter and…”
“And what, Hatchet? You’re killing me! Just tell me what happened to my sister.” Rachael practically shouted the words and Hatchet flinched, but he did finally go on.
“We found two sets of tracks leading away from the house. We also found this.” He dug something out of his pocket and handed it to Jackrabbit. Rachael peered over his arm trying to see what it was and gasped.
“Oh my god! Is that a bullet?” Rachael’s voice wavered on the question, all the worst possible scenarios running through her head.
“It wasn’t fired, Rachael.” Jackrabbit assured her, but his voice sounded anything but confident.
“Then what? Why is it such a big deal?”
“There’s only one man I know who has bullets like this. He makes them himself.” Jackrabbit started, speaking slow and monotone, his gaze glued to the small metal bullet sitting in the palm of his hand.
Rachael waited until she couldn’t take it anymore, “Who? Who is it, Johnny?”
Hatchet and Jackrabbit shared a long look before they both answered together.
“Finn.”
“No!” The word burst from Rachael’s mouth, a denial of the evidence, “No, you said the M60’s were taken care of. You said they were gone for good.”
Jackrabbit shook his head sadly, “I was wrong.” His eyes narrowed, filling with anger, “But I swear to you, Rae, I’ll kill that bastard with my own hands if I have to. I will get your sister back.”
“Hannah, she…she’s not like me. She’s not strong. She doesn’t take risks. She doesn’t do anything without making a pros and cons list first.” Rachael said, biting back a sob, “They’ll destroy her. They’ll…Promise me, Johnny. Promise me you’ll save her. Whatever you have to do.”
“I promise.”
Enjoyed the preview?
FREE on Kindle Unlimited!