Retribution
Turning my back to the man that just took a beating because of my secret kills me. Realistically, I need to check on my son. He has never really had a man around. Sure, we visit my grandfather, but it’s not often enough for him to be an influence on Axel. Other than teachers at school, my son has not had a male in his life until Shooter.
Shooter, my unexpected hero. My friend. My confidant. The first man to really support me with no agenda. The first man to accept me just as I am, broken and all. He knows my every secret and doesn’t judge me.
He wanted to tell Rex; however, out of respect for me and the life I have built for myself, he kept my secret. Rex came here for who knows what and Shooter could have thrown me under the bus. No, instead Shooter let Rex take out his rage on his body.
“Momma, who is the man outside?” Axel questions me.
I am unprepared to answer. I have parented with the belief that I didn’t need to overwhelm him with explanations. If he was curious enough to ask a question, I would answer it simply and honestly. Only, the answer to this question isn’t as simple as saying ‘that’s your dad.’ I don’t know if Rex will want to be a dad even though he knows about Axel now.
“He is someone Mommy knows from work. He is Shooter’s friend.” I extend my arms to my boy for a hug. “Time for bed.”
“I want to wait on Shooter to read to me like last night. He does the voices and shit—I mean, and stuff.”
“Axel,” I chastise his language slip up.
Shooter tries to catch himself, but he doesn’t always. Kids are like sponges, and Axel adores Shooter, so I know this is part of that.
“Sorry, Momma. He makes it really cool, though. Can I please wait for him?”
Not knowing how long Shooter will be or how long it will take for him to get cleaned up, I decide I need to get Axel to bed before he comes inside. The last thing my son needs to see tonight is the sight of Shooter banged up. Thank goodness my mom is here.
“How about you snuggle buggle with Gigi tonight? I think she misses her special time with you.”
“I really wanna have Shooter,” Axel pleads.
My son has really bonded with this man. Has he needed this all along? Why isn’t there an instruction manual for this? I feel like I have messed up so much. Was I wrong in keeping my son from having this? Yes, I was, but I can’t confidently say that Rex would give him what Shooter clearly is now.
If I had just put my big girl panties on and faced Rex all those years ago, Shooter wouldn’t be a bloody mess right now.
“Not tonight. Gigi hasn’t felt well, and I think she needs a pick-me-up that only you can give her.”
“Gigi does love cuddles. Will you tell Shooter goodnight for me?”
“Sure thing, love,” I reply, smiling sweetly at my son.
“Tell him it’s the good cereal for breakfast tomorrow. None of that oatmeal you keep trying to feed us, Momma. We are men; we need more than oatmeal.”
I laugh as he takes off to spend time with my mom. Just in the nick of time, too, since Shooter walks in, holding his shirt over his nose to clean up the blood. With his shirt off, I can see his ribs are bruising already, and from what I can see of his face, it’s a swollen mess.
Following him into the kitchen, I watch him pull down a first aid kit. Silently, I stare in amazement as he pushes his nose back into place as best he can. I am sure there will be a bump left behind.
Walking over, I take the kit out of his hand. He doesn’t speak to me as I begin to run water in the sink.
“I’m gonna get a wash cloth. I’ll be right back to clean you up,” I whisper.
Dropping the shirt from his hand, he reaches out for me, grabbing my arm gently, and my body comes alive.
He is shaking his head at me. “Go to bed, baby. It’s been a long night. We can talk tomorrow. I’ll clean up.” He lets me go and turns to wash the dried blood from his hands.
“I’m sorry I brought my mess to your doorstep. Shooter, let me take care of you like you have me.”
“Tessie, don’t be sorry; especially not for this. You did what you felt you had to for your son. Rex will figure his shit out in time,” Shooter comforts.
When he tries to walk past me to go get the wash cloth, I place my hand on his tense abs, stopping him. I lick my lips as I take in the close proximity between us. He is breathing heavily from his injuries, and on every inhale, he flexes his muscles under my soft fingers. Even bloody, this man is sexy as sin. Could I go there? I can’t believe I can even think of it after my attack six months ago.
The moment passes as he begins to move past me once again. Placing both hands on his stomach, I only put enough pressure to keep him in place, but he still winces slightly.
“Let me, Shooter. Please.” I need to do something to help him. Every time I fall apart, he has been there to pick me up. The least I can do is clean him up. When he came to get me for Rex, the night my car broke down, I seriously doubt he was signing on for all of this drama.
Finally, he steps back to lean against the counter, nodding that I can go get the cloth. Returning, I begin to clean his face before putting a butterfly strip across the crack on his nose. I hope it holds the cut together while it heals. Blood had fallen on his chest, so I wipe it away as I take in the one tattoo Shooter has on his now battered rib cage.
It is a bible verse. 1 John 4:4. “Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world.”
Without thinking, I reach out and touch the script, causing him to tense under me and hiss at the contact.
“Oh, sorry. I’m sorry, just sorry.” I begin to cry for all the pain I have brought this man, both physically and emotionally. I know the ring pulled at something deep inside him. I just want to make this better for him.
I reach over and grab gel pack to put in the freezer to get cool for him. Until then, he will have to make do with frozen peas.
“You should probably go to the hospital.”
“Nothing they can do. My nose is reset. It has to heal, can’t do anything more. My ribs are bruised, possibly cracked. Again, nothing they can do,” Shooter states as if this happens all the damn time.
Wanting to check him over thoroughly, I take Shooter’s large, calloused hand in mine. I know he didn’t hit Rex back, but he grabbed him to keep him from hitting me, something Rex has never done before. Lesson learned. When a man is full of rage, stay out of the way.
“What’s going on in your head, baby? I can see the wheels turning through your eyes. You’re concentrating mighty hard on my hand.” Shooter brings me back to his mess of a face.
“Your tattoo?” I question trying to keep our conversation in neutral territory.
“The bible verse was my first tattoo. Being in the Army, doing what I did, I didn’t have tattoos so I wouldn’t have recognizable markings. No discernable features. Then I got out, I went through some shit and needed a reminder not to be caught up in this world, material things, status, and such. When I patched to the Hellions, I got the insignia inked on my back. Other than that, I’m a blank canvas. Now that we’ve covered that, tell me what you’re really thinking?”
Damn, nothing gets by him.
“Why are you doing all this for me?” I ask with genuine curiosity.
“I told you. I wanna be friends, simple as that.”
“I’m not worth the trouble,” I whisper, meeting his eyes.
We stare at each other silently for the longest time. Watching him, I feel like he is trying to reach into my soul and consume me as he continues to drink me in. Then his hand comes up, tucking my hair behind my ear before coming to rest behind my neck. Gently, he squeezes the back of my neck before he brings his swollen forehead to rest against mine.
“Baby, you’re worth everything,” he whispers before pulling back and kissing the top of my forehead then releasing me.
“Talk quick, Bowie. I need headphones,” I answer my phone, letting him know I have listeners nearby.
Tessie is with me in the kitchen. Since it is Saturday, Axel is home, watching a movie in my room with Gigi. It has been four days since the altercation with Rex, who hasn’t said a word or reached out to either of us. Does he really not want to be a father to his son?
Tessie and I discussed it and if Rex reaches out, we will work it out for him to be a part of Axel’s life. I have to say I am disappointed in him right now. I know it was a shock, but ultimately, I thought he would want more from this. Tripp hasn’t shown up or called me, so I don’t think Rex has shared the news with anyone yet.
“Got a package for ya,” Bowie states.
“How?”
“Word got around we were visiting you. Ice made some connections and sent word your package has been stuck in the same zip code. Decidin’ to be friendly-like, I picked it up for ya. Three clicks and a right. It’ll be waitin’.”
“Good deal. I’m on it.”
Tessie is watching me. Does she know that call was about her attacker? Am I that transparent? He is here, just three miles down the road in an abandoned cabin on the right, way back in the woods.
Bowie is in town with his woman and Tin Man, his brother. They needed a place to hide out, so I put them in Tessie’s old trailer. In case Tessie wants her independence back when this is all over, I contacted the landlord a while back. She agreed to hold the place for Tessie, but I have been paying the rent and utilities to make sure it stays available should she want it.
Ice knew Bowie was in town, and since Shep would be on the lookout for Hellions, it was smart of him to get Bowie’s help. Shep never would have seen the Outlaws coming.
My heart races as adrenaline flows through my veins. Retribution will come for Tessie. Vengeance will be mine.
I tug Tessie to me, pulling her against my chest, and flinch as my ribs scream out in pain. Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her to me. She doesn’t miss a beat, bringing her arms around my back and hugging me. She is so small against me. I breathe in her scent before kissing the top of her head, then I pull away.
“Gotta go out, baby. I don’t know when I’ll get back.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
As I am walking out the door, she looks at me with tears in her eyes. “Be safe, Shooter. Come home to me.”
Immediately, I turn back to her. Placing my hands on her neck, I tip her head up to me, and without giving it a second thought, I bring my lips down on hers. When her hands come up to grip my wrists and she relaxes under me, I swipe my tongue across the seam of her lips. As she opens her mouth to me, I deepen the kiss as my tongue searches out hers. While my thumb rubs the pulse point in her neck, I feel her heart race in beat with mine. I pull back, sucking on her bottom lip before releasing her mouth.
“It’s gonna be okay, baby. No worries,” I state before I release her and make my way back out.
In the garage, I grab my burner phone and contact Tripp with the location to meet me. Then I pull my nine mm, checking it quickly before getting on my bike and pulling out of the driveway.
Does she know where I am going? I hope to hell not. She will never forget that night and what that sick fucker did to her, but I want her to find a way to move past it, to live again, to find happiness and laugh. I want Tessie to laugh every damn day for the rest of her life, not be haunted by the memories.
Arriving at the cabin, I am met by Bowie and Tin Man out front. I manage nothing more than a nod in greeting before the sound of Harleys in the distance have me on alert. My body cries out in protest at all the movements I am making since I am still healing.
When the bikes get within range, I relax, knowing it is Tripp, Rex, and Kix.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Tin Man asks me while we watch my brothers file in.
“It was deserved, leave it at that.” How else am I supposed to answer the questions of why I am still black, blue, and in some places, varying shades of yellow and purple? I kept a secret from Rex. If the shoe was on the other foot, I would kick his ass, too. I got what I deserved and took it, enough said.
After my brothers park and make their way over to us, Rex walks straight past me to the front door without a word.
“What the fuck happened to you, brother?” Tripp asks me.
“Another time, another place,” I reply, not wanting to face the wrath of my club prez for the betrayal of my brother right now.
He nods at me in understanding.
“Problems, Bowie?” Tripp questions.
Looking at Bowie, I see his shirt is torn and there is blood on his hands and side.
“Nothin’ I couldn’t handle. Crazy fucker got a nick in, no big deal. He’s knocked the hell out and chained. Gotta get back to Shay, but you know how to reach me if you need me.” Bowie hands me keys before making his way over to his own bike.
Tin Man gives me a chin lift and follows his brother as they prepare to leave.
By the time I make my way over, Tripp, Rex, and Kix are already at the door to the tiny cabin.
“You two are tied to Tessie. Kix and I’ll stay on guard out here. Give the fucker what he’s got comin’ to him.” Tripp orders leaving Rex and I to face Tessie’s attacker with the freedom to do with him what we wish.
We enter to find an empty, open room with no windows. There is a mattress in the corner on the floor, but other than that, the space is completely empty. Shep lays on the floor, unconscious with his hands cuffed and chained to his ankles. He is as dirty as ever; his clothes covered in filth, his stench filling the room and letting us know that he hasn’t showered in days.
He starts to move, and Tripp is automatically standing over him. As Shep opens his eyes slowly, Tripp kicks at his legs, making just enough contact to show he’s there.
“Wake up, fucker. It’s deliverance day.”
Shep groans. Then, before I can move, Rex is at him, pulling him up by the chains. The energy in the room is reckless; rage radiating off the two of us.
Rex stands Shep up against the wall where his knees buckle, and he drops back to the ground. Doesn’t look like his gunshot wounds healed well. This is probably why he remained in the same zip code hiding out. Rex yanks him back up and pins him in place with his forearm against his throat.
“You know why we got you, Ghost?”
I get closer to watch as Tessie’s attacker answers for his crimes.
“Pussy. You got me for pussy.” Shep smiles back sickly, his face changing to one of a man lost in a memory. “Sweet, tight pussy,” he adds, describing Tessie.
Unable to control myself, I am at his side. “That sweet, tight pussy is mine. You touched my ol’ lady, you motherfucker,” I state, meaning every word out of my mouth. That pussy he touched is mine. Tessie is mine.
The monster inside me wants out. The demon in me needs to watch this fucker die. My lungs burn as my breathing becomes heavy. My sides ache because my injuries aren’t healed enough to exert myself like I want to.
Taking a step back, I move just in time. Rex releases Shep only enough to put his hands on Shep’s shoulders and knee him in the crotch.
“How’s your dick feel now? Don’t worry; I’m nowhere near done playin’ with you.”
Shep coughs. “You had that tight cunt. You know it’s good.” He makes eye contact with Rex before glaring at me. The man has balls.
Rex brings Shep’s head down to slam his knee in his face. His face gushes blood as Rex tosses him backwards onto the hard floor beneath us. Landing on his back, he stares wild-eyed at the two of us standing over him. He shakes his dirty hair, trying to get the mangled mess out of his bloody, rapidly swelling face. The sick bastard then brings his cuffed hands up to his mouth, sticking two fingers in his mouth before he sucks. Smiling at Rex and me, he moans in pleasure.
“I can still taste her blood and juices mixed together. Tight ass, too. She’s a delicacy. Shoulda killed me that night, Shooter, not left me with two bullets in my legs. I’ve gotten off every. Single. Night since to thoughts of your ol’ lady.”
In response, Rex raises his boot covered foot up and stomps straight down on Shep’s crotch. Twisting his heel, he grinds down. While Shep curls upward in pain, vomiting on himself and Rex’s boot, Rex pulls a switchblade, ignoring the mess.
He grabs Shep’s hand. “These are the fingers you touched the mother of my son with! Goodbye, fucker.” Rex slices his fingers off and tosses them over his shoulder.
Blind rage has consumed my brother as something inside me goes wild at the mention of Tessie’s son.
Moving to my knees, I grip Shep’s head in my lap. He twists, trying to pull away. Forcing his head between my knees, I hold him in place while using my thumbs to force his eyelids open.
“Look at me, fucker. Something given or exacted in punishment—retribution. This is yours. Vengeance is mine. You touched the wrong one,” I state, releasing his eyelids.
Picking his head up, I twist to the right until his neck breaks. Dropping his head with a thud to the ground, I roll back on my feet and hop up.
It is done.