I stopped by the mudroom and rugged up suitably before heading outdoors. The whole time my mind was racing with everything Lily had spilled inside the great room. Fresh air would help me to calm the fuck down. Emotionally this was a lot to be hit square on with.
On the outside I showed nothing of what I was feeling, on the inside, my blood was like boiling lava flowing through my veins. That motherfucker told her he barbecued me. Christ! At only twenty-one, he stabbed the mother of his child and pretended to burn a baby alive!
Lily’s lucky William didn’t kill her.
My heart blackens; I have no outlet to vent my anger toward as I yearn to drain the blood from the man who was my father, but there’s nobody to hold responsible for all these years of loss, hatred, and pain.
Yanking the knitted beanie from my head, I run my gloved hands through my hair, tugging on the ends, the pain spiking until I let go. I clamp them behind my bowed head as I pace back and forth on the porch.
SUUUR…PRISE!
I’ve now got a mother who didn't abandon me as that fucked-up sonofabitch led me to believe; earning her all these years of my hatred. And a bonus of an instant brother, who has been in the dark as much as me and seemed to be handling this family reunion better than me.
The fucker was the same age as Whisper was now when he turned on Lily/Marla, tearing me away from her.
The devil himself must have impregnated William’s mother for that seed to be so evil.
Jesus!
I should be overjoyed, shouldn't I? I've got real blood relations. ‘Mother' and ‘brother’ are not words that fall easily upon my lips after missing thirty-one years of their lives.
Lily did great raising Mathias; he's a good man—a much better man than me.
I want to give that woman the hug I know she was in need of, but she's a stranger in all the emotional ways, and I'm a stranger to her.
How much does she know about my life?
She doesn't know the man I've become. I'm a killer. My father was a killer. My job is to enforce for my club. She's a lawyer fighting the good fight. Mathias is fighting the good fight. I hunt and kill; the laws got no say in how I doll out retribution and all she does is follow the law.
Something catches my attention out the corner of my eye. I stop mid-pace, my hands fisted down by my side.
What the hell?
There's a box sitting on the top step of the porch. A natural reaction is to raise only my eyes to look around at my surroundings, but all I see is a peaceful lit-up winter wonderland twinkling back.
Where the fuck did this package come from?
I crouch down by the box, brushing a few snowflakes off the top. It hasn't been here that long because the snow is light. The addressee is DALLAS MASSON c/o Darius Stone (Ghost?) at this address.
What the fuck?
Who the hell is sending me a package on Christmas Day? Could it be one of my brothers? But they wouldn't know Ghost's real name. I didn't care to wonder what his real name is. He's just, Ghost. Joel-the-computer-hacker-genius could've known. I wouldn't put it past him to set me up with a practical joke for a gift. But something doesn't feel right about this, not after everything that's happened. Why didn’t the person knock on the door? There’s no postage mark or delivery docket on the box.
And this makes me wary.
I pull my phone out and hit up the one person who could have any idea. The phone rings once.
"Edge, you okay?" Hazard's concerned for me, and he fucking well should be, because nobody should know I'm here other than the crew who left yesterday and I ain't into surprises.
“Reckon so. There’s a package on the porch with my name on it. I want you to ask Ghost to verify his birth name because I got a shitty feeling about this. I don’t want to touch it or bring it inside.”
“Fuck! One sec.” Hazard’s murmuring to somebody… no doubt Ghost, and then he gets back on the line. “Darius Stone.”
Bingo!
"Second question: Ask Joel, Linc, and Boxer if they know anything about a delivery addressed to me because the ladies sure as shit wouldn't know Ghost's birth name and the men who have gone home wouldn't be playing it this way after everything that's gone down. And just for the record: Phoenix may have fucked with you and Ghost with those ugly Christmas sweaters…" I hear Hazard swear under his breath, "but she sure as shit wouldn't play this game. There's no postage on the box, and I doubt when I tip it over there will be sender details. And I ain't moving it at this stage."
There’s more murmuring and Hazard’s back on the line. “Nope… they know nothing. Ghost’s on his way. Can’t be too careful with everything we did to those motherfuckers,” he says grimly. “Could have a damn roach on the loose.” He comes to the same conclusion as me.
“Fuck-shit!”
“Ghost will check if it’s a bomb, so don’t go touching anything. I’ll make sure all the women get inside Ghost’s armory. It’s reinforced to withstand a fuck-of-a-lot,” he informs me. “Chances are it’s not a bomb, just playin’ it safe,” he adds like it’s gonna make me feel any better about the situation.
“Jesus, Hazard, get the women inside that room, pronto!” Whisper is gonna be frightened, nothing to be done about it until we know what’s inside. “Let Boxer know you’re gonna do a perimeter check ASAP!” I disconnect.
I stand and walk away from the box, down the porch steps, my mind flips a whole lotta scenario over in my head as to what could be in it, while I do a little surveying of the area.
I walk down to the bottom step and see a large man-sized set of footprints in the snow. They look at least to be a size fourteen.
My bet is the fucker has moved on. He’s not risking getting caught, but he’s been watching.
I step down into the snow, careful not to damage the perfect boot prints, and I take a photo of the mystery footprints with my cell phone.
“Edge!” Ghost hollers at me sharply. “Stand the fuck back.”
I wave at him, so he knows I heard and make my way through the winter wonderland to the start of the trees and look around. Fucker was here, I know it.
He's holding his deck of cards close to his chest revealing his hand when he's sure he won't get caught peeping.
After a couple of minutes of looking about Ghost hollers, “Edge, all clear!” I look back at the porch and watch him open the box.
What the hell? He couldn’t have checked for a bomb that quickly?
I make my way back to Ghost noting the driveway hasn’t got any tire tracks. Confirming that box hasn’t been sitting there that long.
I climb the porch steps. “How the fuck did you check for a bomb that quick and without any shit to do it with?” I ask him angrily.
“Figured there was no time to get the bomb robot out.” He shrugs. “Much quicker for me to take a peek inside the box. If the delivery boy wanted you dead, he could have used a detonator to set it off. He could have done so knowing we were all inside or when you walked over to the package he had the perfect opportunity to…” Instead of verbally finishing that sentence, the big guy blows his cheeks out and makes an explosion sound while his hands pray and then rise to the sky.
“Fuck’s sake, Ghost. We’re not playing charades. You’re a crazy shit, do you know that?"
He continues, “Orrr… I didn't hear any of that old-fashioned ticking, figured it was a fifty/fifty chance I would still be standing here once I opened the box. I poked a quick hole in it and stuck an infra-red camera inside, and nothing showed up on my phone screen that I should be worried about, which raised the percentage in our favor. My guess is the fucker was listening in, somehow. The bastard knew when you were coming out for fresh air and then got the fuck out of his hidey-hole. His goal achieved, and now we take a look-see inside."
Ghost kneels, opens the box flaps and removes a bowling ball sized object wrapped in black plastic from the box. He starts peeling the plastic away.
"Jesus H. Christ," Ghost exhales revealing a round block of ice. But it's what is encased inside that has us both horrified.
“Jesus H. Christ,” I breathe out.
Nooo!
At this moment I pray to any and all of the Gods known to man that I’m not honestly seeing what I know I’m seeing.
“Jeesus.” My body has gone into protective mode. I feel numb at what I’m seeing. The shock of seeing my friend Adam’s severed head in the jar is turning to rage.
Ghost's pulled himself together quicker than me. He's on his feet; his concealed handgun is out and ready to kill. At least one of us came prepared.
I pull myself together in time to see Ghost taking off down the porch steps and heading for the trees.
I've let my fucking guard down, came outside without a gun, thinking we are clear of danger. I've felt safe here, and as of now, we're no longer anonymous. A Hell’s bastard is on the loose and sent me one fucked-up message.
An eye for an eye.
Cezar was decapitated, and Adam was a revenge kill.
If the motherfucker is watching, the bastard won’t get a show from me. This scene needs to get locked down tight inside a box real quick.
I put my phone on silent and start texting Boxer.
Me: Adam’s severed head is encased in ice and sitting on Ghost’s front porch
Boxer: Jesus. Are you sure?
Me: Ghost and I are both quite sure
I don't even want to think about what Adam went through before he was hunted down and killed.
Boxer: Christ
Get inside the both of you with the head and put it in the spare freezer in Ghost’s mudroom
I don’t want the women to see it
Need all men on deck
Chances are he’s listening
Need to get the fuck out of here sooner than later
Me: Whisper?
Boxer: I just carried her up to Ghost’s room when Ghost confirmed it wasn’t a bomb
All the women are packing their stuff up
The smell of the food was making her too queasy
We keep calm
Don’t know who the enemy is at this stage
Guaranteed it’s a revenge kill
One of Cezar’s men could’ve survived
It’s the only place to start
We gotta work out who
Ghost climbs the steps to the porch. I show him the texts, and he nods.
We take one last look at the front garden and then hit up the mudroom freezer and put the head inside. It's then we see the note inside the box in a plastic sleeve on the bottom. The box was reopened from the base and duct taped haphazardly.
“Here goes,” Ghost mutters, looking deadly serious.
I open the note and Ghost reads it silently over my shoulder. We curse like troopers under our breaths.
Ghost has his phone out, takes a couple of photos and is typing away. I take photos of them too.
The printed message with a handwritten addition says:
RETRIBUTION IS A BITCH
NO BOOGEYMAN OUT TO SLAY YOU AND YOUR BRO TODAY
YOU’RE ALL SAFE TODAY
AFTER ALL, IT’S CHRISTMAS
I’M A PATIENT MAN
BUT BE SURE TO GIVE ME A GOOD HUNT
DON’T THINK YOU CAN RECOGNIZE ME, BECAUSE I COULD BE ANYONE
SAY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOUR NEW MUMMY AND
CONDOLENCES TO MRS. BALAN FOR HER LOSS ON CHRISTMAS EVE
LATEST ADDITION: CONGRATULATIONS ON THE SPAWN
SIGNED: YOUR WORST FUCKING NIGHTMARE
We both strip out of our wet clothes as quickly as we can.
Neither of us says out loud what we’re both thinking. I need to get Whisper away from here to a safe place. Fucker didn’t know she was pregnant when he wrote that note, but he does now.
We need a plan.
I also need to alert Slade ASAP! He’s gonna be gutted at this news. Another fallen friend at the hands of an enemy we didn’t see coming.
Fuuck!