Nate
Riding down the well-concealed road, I slow my speed, my eyes frantically searching for some sign of the building Hunter gave me the address for. I hope for his sake, he isn’t playing me. Foolishly, I’ve trusted this guy, but went on my gut feeling about him. More than ever, I need my gut to be right.
The rumble of the bikes behind me close in and I lift my left hand holding it up as the building comes into sight. My heart gallops knowing that Hunter came through. Now, I just have to hope that Tara is here and unharmed. I have to fucking pray to whatever God is watching over her, hoping that she’s safe and alive.
Turning my bike, I pull up behind a row of trees, disguising us. I quickly cut the engine, hoping to go in there, guns-a-blazing, and catch the fucker off guard. Leaning the bike to the side, I kick out the stand and let it take the weight of the bike. I jump off, removing my helmet and rest it on the handles. I head over to Zane and Davo and pull out my gun, attach the silencer and cock it. I’m ready to kill any fucker in there. I’m pumped. Driven by the anger and uncontrollable rage within. I have to get her back. I have to make anyone who has so much as laid a finger on her, pay.
“Right behind you, brother,” Zane says with a tap to my back.
I nod.
“Whatever happens, we get her out of there. Tara is our main priority. Got it?”
“Goes without saying, brother,” Davo replies. “And if your father is there? You want to let the club deal with him. You know, deal with him the ‘Savage’ way?”
I know what he’s asking and I know following through with the club rule would be the right thing to do. But deep inside, I have my own reasons for wanting to be the one to take him out. To be the one that avenges the woman who owns my heart.
“No…” I decline with a shake of my head. His face hardens and he narrows his eyes on me.
“You know that the club should deal with this…”
“But I’m making the decision. If he’s inside there, then I’m going to be the one to kill him. I’m going to make him feel pain. I’m going to watch him struggle to take his last breath. It has to be me. I have to be the one to kill him.”
“I get that.” Davo continues to argue but I cut him off.
“He’s going to die. Here, there, does it really matter where?” I hold out my arms, lifting my shoulders in frustration.
“We’re with you, brother. We follow your orders,” Zane interjects giving Davo a warning, his eyes widening.
“You don’t need to like what I’m about to do. And if you don’t agree with my need to finish him here and now, then I suggest you get on the fucking bike and turn around. You’re either with me, or you’re not. But that’s your choice.”
“Hey, hey,” he repeats. “Of course I’m with you, brother. I’m just trying to make you see that getting revenge is not always the right option. We all ended up hating your father because of his need to go solo and make deals behind our backs. I don’t want to see the same happening to you.”
Adrenaline pumps so fast that before I realize what I’m doing, I have my gun pointed at Davo. “I don’t fucking need you in my ear every time I make a decision, you fucking got that?”
“Whoa. Come on, brother. I know this is fucking hard, but don’t turn on your crew.” Zane places his hand gently against my stiffened arm. Pressing down, he pushes the gun away from Davo and finally lets go when it’s pointing to the ground.
I shake my head, knowing I’ve fucked up. I close my eyes and murmur, “Shit, man. I’m sorry. My fucking head is a mess.”
“You’re explosive, it’s to be expected. But let’s direct it at the right people, huh?”
Nodding, I don’t verbally respond.
I slowly make my way toward the building, noticing a burgundy-colored car and two bikes parked outside. The daylight is starting to fade, but there’s no mistaking the emblem on the tank of the bike.
Fucking Deathseekers.
Yet more confirmation that Brewer the asshole has been working with my father. I take sideways steps, gun in hand until my shoulder hits the cold metal wall of the building. Within a split second Zane and Davo stand behind me.
With a flick of his head he asks, “Should we go around the back?”
I hum in agreement and take slow steps around the large industrial-style building. With each footstep my heart thuds. The closer I get to the door, the higher the level of anxiety pumps through my whole body.
I still at the sound of familiar voices. I hold out my hands to the guys to signal that I’ve heard something. A slither of light streams from a partially open door. The smell of smoke billows out of the door and voices echo through the empty land that surrounds the building.
The door flies open and footsteps approach. I dip my head making sure my aim is good. As soon as a body steps from the door and comes into sight I pull the trigger. The silencer restricts the firing sound but the thud of the body against the ground gathers attention. I race over to the door stopping when I’m faced with the shit-eating grin of Silver.
“What the fuck?” he gasps. His hands rise into the air as I force my gun against his temple.
“Step out of the fucking door,” I order him, barely keeping the hold on my gun still, my whole body shakes with uncontrollable rage.
“Back up against the building,” I continue, getting him to move away from the door.
“Go inside, find my father and Tara,” I instruct the others, never once taking my eyes off this asshole.
They nod, guns ready and carefully walking inside.
“On your knees,” I bellow and he does what I say. “I’m surprised by you, Silver. Cat got your tongue?”
“What the fuck do you expect me to say? Huh? You got a fucking gun pointed at my head.”
“Where is she?” I ask, as I look at the man that has taken great pleasure in hurting me in the past. Look who’s laughing now.
“Upstairs. In Jeffries’ makeshift bedroom.”
“Alive?” I ask, swallowing down the bile that rises involuntarily.
“Why don’t you go and see?”
“Don’t play fucking games with me.” I remove my gun from the position against his forehead. Raising my hand, I crack the gun down against the side of his head with all my strength. He cries out, his hand coming to a stop where my gun made contact.
“You fucking cocksucker!” he shouts at me, lifting his head just enough to make eye contact. A slow, slimy smile spreads across his face. “A pathetic kid playing an adult game.”
POP.
The sound of a gun firing has my head whipping from side to side as I search for where the sound came from. As soon as I lift my head, my eyes land on the asshole I’ve been searching for.
I lift my hand to point my gun and the sting in my shoulder lets me know where the bullet landed. I’m hurt, but it’s not serious. With my gun lifted I pull back the trigger aiming and shooting repeatedly at Jeffries. His body falls to the floor and I’m soon knocked from my feet. Silver has me on the floor and lifts his fists, reining punch after punch against my face. The gun I had has fallen out of my hand and as I glance down, I see it’s too far for me to reach. Wiggling down, my hand finds the handle of my knife and I pull it from the holster. Lifting it, I plunge the knife deep into Silver’s neck over and over. Blood sprays my face, but I don’t stop. He lifts his hand, gagging as he starts to choke. His body soon becomes limp and I’m completely covered in his blood.
“Boss, fuck! Shit, are you okay?” Zane races over, dragging Silver’s body off me. “We got her. We got Tara,” he says offering me his hand and pulling me from the floor. “Fuck, you’re hurt.”
Grimacing, I force myself to breathe through the pain. I glance over to my father lying on the floor. His hand clutches his stomach and blood pours from the wound.
“Take him inside.” I croak out my instruction, lifting my shirt and dragging it across my face in an attempt to remove the blood.
Stepping over Silver’s body, I rush to make my way into the building. With every second that passes by, the movement in my arm becomes less and less. I press my already bloodied hand against the gunshot wound. Looking at my hand, it’s bleeding pretty bad. But I don’t care. I have to get to Tara. I have to know she’s okay.
“Davo,” I yell out. My eyes roam the place, hoping to locate Tara. I head toward the stairs, footsteps can be heard and vibrate from just above.
“Up here, man,” he yells down to me. Racing up the stairs so fast, I have to stop myself from tripping. As soon as my eyes land on Tara in Davo’s arms, I almost lose my shit. It’s like someone has taken a knife to my gut. Her body is wrapped in a bedsheet and her face is bruised and badly swollen. Her neck is covered in cuts and her hair has been cut off.
But the one thing I notice above all else is her smile.
She’s smiling. The kind of smile I know she only has for me. She wiggles her leg, instructing to Davo that he should put her down.
“Are you sure?” he asks with a frown. “You’re weak, honey.”
“I’m sure,” she whispers and he does as she asks. Lowering her, he takes hold of her arm, holding up her weight. My eyes travel down to the blood on her leg.
Unable to hold back any longer. I race over to her, scooping her up in my arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” I say, holding her to my chest.
“I just want you to take me home,” she sobs against me and I feel overwhelmingly protective.
“I will, baby, I promise.” Pulling back, I brush my hand over her hair, her head tipping and her eyes meeting with mine. “I just gotta finish up here.”
“Where is he?” Her eyes widen and the look of fear creeps over her face.
“Downstairs and hurt badly. He won’t ever be able to touch you again.”
“Please, just get me out of here,” she rushes out, shuddering.
“I need your shirt, man.”
Immediately, Davo slides off his cut and removes his shirt, handing it to me. He slides the cut back on while I wrap his shirt around Tara, fastening the first few buttons to cover her semi-naked body.
“I need you to take her outside. Wait at the bikes for us,” I inform Davo.
“You got it,” he replies, wrapping his hand around her waist and helping her down the stairs.
“Whatever you do, keep your eyes focused on the door. I don’t ever want you to lay eyes on that sick fuck. You hear me?”
“Yes,” she replies meekly, sniffling as she fights back tears. As we approach the bottom of the steps, I place my hand under her chin lifting her head slowly until she’s looking into my eyes.
“I love you,” I declare and her eyes widen. Those words I’ve often struggled to say. The feelings I’ve held back all come pouring out. Because I’m her man. And she has to know how I feel. I dip my head, kissing her lips gently. Her eyes flutter shut and a single tear streams down, dropping onto my jaw. Her tears are mine. Her pain is mine too. I glance over my shoulder, looking at my father, slumped but breathing in a chair positioned in the middle of the room.
Turning my attention back to Tara, I tell her, “I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”
She nods, bowing her head, her eyes focused on her feet as she shuffles them, making her way out with help from Davo.
Pushing my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I sigh heavily before turning and making my way over to my father.
Stopping just beside him, I roughly grab his hair, dragging his head back, wanting this monster to look me in the eye.
“I’m going to make you pay. You hurt the only person that has ever meant something to me. And for that, you lose your life.”
“No,” he croaks, coughing a little. “It doesn’t have to be this way. You’re my son. Can’t you find it in your heart to somehow forgive me?”
“Forgive you?” I roar, releasing the hold on his hair. I hate my father. I despise him with everything I have. But the conflicted emotions are almost too much. For a split second I feel a pang of guilt. Guilt knowing I’m about to end his life.
I look up at Zane who is standing behind the chair, his hands clamped in front of him. “Bring in the other bodies,” I instruct, moving away and rifling through the boxes in the corner of the room.
“Do you know, Dad.” I accentuate the word dad as I shout over to him, knocking box after box over until I finally find what I’m looking for. “I met my brother the night we helped Braxton and Isabelle.”
“What are you talking about?” He slurs his words and I see that he’s losing consciousness. “Yeah, that’s right. Harlan was there. He was helping Alvrez. And your friend Silver cut off his fucking hand. When we torched the place, Harlan burnt along with it.”
“No… What?” he splutters.
“Yes, Dad. He died that day. And I’ve decided you’re going the same way.”
I walk over to a chair in the corner, pulling it to a stop in front of him. I straddle the chair, resting my chin on the backrest, staring at the man I once called father.
I sigh. “You know it didn’t have to be this way. But you just couldn’t sit back and allow me to be happy, could you?”
He laughs maniacally. “Cheap bit of pussy, huh… you’re killing me because of her?” He spits out the words and I’m enraged. Jumping up from the seat, I knock it to the floor and draw out my knife. I can’t help but draw back my hand and let my knife plunge into his chest. Over and over I stab in a fit of rage.
“You faggot,” he coughs and splutters his venomous words.
“Arrgghh,” I yell, stepping back and shaking the hand that still clutches the knife. My chest heaves as my breathing is rapid as the anger and adrenaline consume me. After a few seconds, I grab the small can of gasoline and start to splash his face with it. He groans and moans but has barely any fight left in him. Zane drags the lifeless bodies of Ozzie and Silver inside and I douse them with the gasoline.
“Grab another can,” I say to Zane, pointing over to where there are more gasoline canisters. “We gotta make sure this place goes up.”
He takes one from the stack and starts to spray the area with the gasoline.
“No. Please, no,” my father pleads, but it’s no use.
This is happening.
When the whole place has been sprayed with gasoline, we make a trail toward the door.
I dig in my pocket and light the flame on my lighter. Dropping it to the floor, I watch as the trail of gasoline burns, racing toward my father. Within seconds the fire surrounds him and his screams fill the otherwise desolate area.
“Come on, man. We should leave.” Zane tugs on my arm, but I’m transfixed. I’m watching the man I’ve called father for years burn alive.
“Really, man. You don’t wanna watch this. Let’s go!”
His mouth falls open as the fire peels away his skin. His head drops forward and I’m sure he’s lost consciousness. I start to cough as the smoke and fumes hit me. I snap from my trancelike state, taking in just how much the place is on fire.
The earlier guilt has left me and all I feel is relief. Relief that I’m finally free to live my life.
Relief that Tara no longer needs to live in fear.
“Let’s go,” I say, turning and making my way outside, rushing over to the bikes. As soon as I reach the bike my chest aches at the sight of Tara. My father fucked her up bad, and I can’t help but worry about her. About how she’ll get over this. Sitting back against the seat of my bike, her eyes are downcast as she stares at the ground, her arms crossed and her shoulders stooped. Without a word, I stop in front of her, holding her in my arms. Pulling her head against my chest, it thuds furiously, the anger so intense I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.
And the guilt.
Yeah, that shit’s the worst.
I fucking failed her. I didn’t protect her and the baby.
Fuck, the baby.
Pulling back with haste, I look her over, wondering if he hurt her in ways that are blind to the eye. “Shit.” I sigh, wondering how the fuck I’m supposed to ask her. “We need to get you to the hospital, baby.”
“Yeah,” she replies. Her expression and tone are solemn and I feel helpless. I want to be the one to save her and make things better, but I’m not sure I ever can. I may have taken her from the clutches of the monster I once called father, but how can I undo all of the hurt and anger she feels.
Shaking my head, I try to clear my thoughts, knowing, no matter what, now is the time I have to push aside everything and focus on helping Tara.
“Your shoulder, man. You okay to ride?” Zane asks, surveying the damage the bullet made.
“One arm, one leg, nothing is ever gonna stop me from riding, brother.”
He and Davo laugh and I glance over watching as the flames roar and the heat intensifies from the burning building. “We gotta get out of here.” I look at Tara, ready to ask if she’s good to ride. But I don’t get the chance. The sound of Davo’s phone ringing stops me in my tracks. Pulling it out, his eyes widen. “I think this is for you.”
Narrowing my eyes, I tilt my head and pause, waiting for him to explain.
“Braxton,” he says with an exaggerated lift of his brows.
“Fuck.” I stamp my boot against the ground, pulling out my own cell. Looking at the screen there are over one hundred missed calls and it causes me to roll my eyes.
Handing me his cell, I flip it open and answer his call.
“Braxton.”
“Fuck. Nate?”
“Yeah, man. It’s me.”
“The fuck is happening?” he roars down the phone and I pull it away a little.
“You need to calm—”
“Are you for real right now, Nate? Tara is taken by your psycho father and you don’t think to mention it?”
“I was too busy getting her back to consult you, Brax.”
“You impulsive jackass.”
“Call me what you want. But I found her, Brax, and I’m taking her to the hospital.”
The line goes silent for a second longer than expected. The awkward silence is broken by Brax. “And Jeffries?”
“Taken care of.”
“Fuck,” he says as he exhales. “I’ll meet you at County.”
“Yeah,” I reply, snapping closed the phone and handing it back to Davo. Turning back to Tara, I notice her hands covering her face and Zane has his arm around her, comforting her as she sobs silently. Tears stream across her cheeks and drip from her chin.
Zane looks at me and I tip my chin. He drops his arm, stepping away. “Baby,” I whisper to her. “I need you to straddle the bike. How’s your leg holding up?”
“Okay,” she mumbles.
“Tell me if it hurts too much.” I reach down, taking her ankle and guide it over the bike.
“Man, that ain’t right. She’s facing the wrong way.” Davo tilts his head, wrinkling his nose.
“Nah, brother. This is exactly where I want her. Facing me and in my arms.”
Grabbing the helmet, I secure it on her head, adjusting the strap and fastening it under her chin. Cocking my leg, I slide down and instantly her head rests into my chest. “Arms,” I say, giving her the gentle instruction. Grabbing both of her hands, I gently wrap them around me and she grabs the back of my cut lightly. She doesn’t lift her head. She remains resting against me. Kicking back the stand, I set off with Tara in my arms. The numbness of the wound on my shoulder makes it hard to ride, but I do what I have to.
Because for her, I’ll breathe through the pain to make sure she’s safe.