Chapter Fifteen
Ascream from out in the club has us out of our seats before Tex has a chance to come barging in, and we nearly crash into him as we go to inspect what the fuck is happening now.
“Help!” The scream comes from the entrance, and my gun is in my hand in an instant as I quickly survey the area in search of Cara.
Where the fuck is she?
“It’s Grayson!” Sasha comes charging in looking frantic, blood smeared across her palms. “Help him! Someone help him!”
I push past her, flying out the door before skidding to a stop at the body laying on the ground before us.
“Fuck.” I hiss, momentarily stunned.
“The fuck!” Dante roars barging past, kicking me in motion.
“Gray!” I shout, dropping to my knees by the sixteen-year-old kid. Or who I think is Grayson.
“Gray!” Gunner’s voice comes from behind us, and I hear Tex stop him.
“Hold back, kid. Let them check him.”
Accessing the battered boy, I can see past the blood and swelling that it is Gray. It fucking is him.
“Who the fuck did this!” I roar as my eyes spot something sticking out of the pocket in his shirt.
“Call a fucking ambulance!” Dante calls to anyone who will listen as he kneels on Grayson’s other side.
“Already on it.” Baz informs him while I tug what looks like a photo from Gray’s pocket.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I wipe the blood smeared on it to see familiar gray eyes. “FUCK!” I roar, shooting to my feet.
“What is it?” Dante asks with urgency, snatching the photo from my hand.
“Where the fuck is Cara?!” I roar, pushing through the wall of people as I go back inside the club, in search of my wife. “CARA!”
“She’s not in h-here.” Rose cowers as my angry glare shoots her way. “S-she went out for a smoke b-before and never came back in.”
“WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T ANYONE SAY ANYTHING?!”
“Rocco, man. Calm down.” Dante’s hand clasps my shoulder from behind, but I wrench myself away.
“Calm down? Are you fucking serious? My wife goes fucking missing, and no one thinks to go fucking looking for her or fuck, at least tell me?”
Sobs sound from nearby and I snarl at Rose’s tear-stained face.
“There’s a message on the back of the photo.” Baz hurries to me and shows me the back.
IF YOU WANT YOUR PRECIOUS WIFE BACK THEN COME AND GET HER MOTHERFUCKER!
Warehouse 7 – Industrial Road.
“Ahhhhhhh!” I scream, turning and flipping the closest table over.
Pain slices through my chest like someone has cranked my chest cavity open and is attempting to pull my heart out.
I heave, anger controlling each fucking breath as I look down at the photo again.
Cara is in the middle of a few Reapers, her hair dripping, and her body barely covered as one Reaper grabs her fucking tit, and another Reaper is in the frozen motion of wanking, his cock angled toward my wife.
By Cara’s feet are two people. One is her brother. He lies lifeless, a bullet wound right in the center of his forehead, his eyes open but they’re nothing but cold pits of emptiness, and next to him, on her haunches, is Martina Rodríguez.
Smiling.
Fucking cunt!
I glance at Cara again and notice the gun in her hand by her side, and my fucking gut twists.
Did she kill her brother?
Even as I think it, I know it to be true by the look in her eyes.
She’s done.
Not with life. Not that sort of done.
It’s the sort of done when tolerating people, or being treated a certain way, is no longer possible.
She’s the sort of done that her mom is in no way prepared for, and all I know is that I have to go to her, and make sure she finishes this. Today.
As the siren of the ambulance distracts everyone, I spin on my heel and go to the elevator. I rarely go down to the basement level. It’s like a fucking bunker down there, and I prefer to see the motherfucking sky, but today, it holds what I need.
“Rocco,” Cain calls, rushing to my side. “What are we doing?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get my wife.”
“I was hoping you would say something like that.” He grins as my eyes dart to him.
Why is this fucking elevator taking so long to arrive?
“You don’t have to risk your life, Cain. She’s my wife. I can’t ask you to risk yourself.”
He scoffs. “You think she only belongs to you? My man, you are mistaken. Mi peque?o salvaje is mine too. She may not be my betrothed, but she’s my family. And we fight for our family, no matter what.”
“Exactly.”
The voice comes from behind me, and I glance over my shoulder as the elevator doors open to see Dante, Baz, Munroe, Stretch, and Tex.
Fuck. My eyes burn. I can’t cry in front of these fuckers… can I?
“Let’s weapon up.” Dante nods at me, stepping past and onto the elevator, and each of them do the same.”
“Who’s with Grayson?” I ask as I step in the elevator too and the doors close.
“Gunner and the Diamonds. They will stay with him and keep us posted.” Dante advises and I nod, staring at the numbers as they descend to the basement where we load and strap as many guns, bullets and knives as we can onto our bodies before piling into two trucks and heading to the warehouse.
I drive like a crazy motherfucker through the streets, Cain holding on and laughing as he bounces in the seat like he’s on a fucking ride.
“Take the next right.” Baz directs, looking down at his phone map, trying to get us there quicker.
“Hold on,” I hiss, giving them a warning as I yank the wheel and we slide in a loud screech around the corner.
“You’re going to kill yourself before you even get there!” Dante’s voice comes through the speaker, our open line still connected as him and Baz talk attack strategies.
“Nothing will stop me from getting to my wife!” I snap, and Cain claps.
“I like this version of you. I’d fuck you if I were gay.” He admits, and I frown, shooting him a confused look. “You know what. I’d legit just fuck you, anyway. You’re so sexy when you’re angry.” He purrs the last part and I shake my fucking head.
“Touch me and my wife will dice you up.”
He bounces in his seat again. “Ohhhh she’ll make it hurt so good.”
“Left!” Baz barks, and again, I jerk on the wheel, the back end of my truck snaking out and nearly taking out a parked car.
“We are approaching from the north. You’ll get there before us, but we won’t be far. Just go in guns blazing. They are likely waiting,” Dante informs.
“Do not kill Martina Rodríguez!” I yell, just having her name fall from my lips sending me into a red fucking rage. “Subdue her but leave her for Cara. Martina is her kill.”
“Noted.” Dante agrees and I relax a little.
That bitch is going to wish she was never fucking born.
“Industrial Road is your next left.” Baz notifies me, and I nod, my hands gripping the wheel tighter as nervous energy pulses through me.
I need to get to Cara.
I need to keep her safe.
Our next left isn’t as fucking violent as the others before it, finally turning onto the dark street and looking at the warehouse numbers.
“There it is!” Cain yells and points as he jigs around in his seat like he has fucking ants in his pants.
Killing the headlights and slowing the truck, I veer off the road and up the short driveway, bursting through the wire gates that were closed but not locked.
As soon as we are through, bullets start spraying my truck, and while Baz ducks in the back seat because that’s the fucking smart thing to do, Cain lets out a war cry, puts the window down and starts firing back.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed,” I hiss, and he laughs.
“I am invincible!”
“Jesus Christ.” Baz mutters from the back, as I slow the truck, looking for the entrance.
There’s a small entrance door, and there’s a garage type of roller door.
I choose the roller door.
“Hold on!” I yell, planting my foot down before my truck shoots forward toward the warehouse.
“Oh fuck.” Baz hisses as Cain laughs manically.
I love my truck. I worked hard to earn money to get it. But it’s expendable, and my wife isn’t.
We all yell, vicious sounding roars right before we slam into the door, the hard body of my old truck stronger than the door, peeling it open like a can opener.
Coming to a bumpy abrupt stop as my truck slams into the back of a white van, we are thrown forward, and I brace for pain, but it never comes.
“Onward we ride!” Cain cries, shoving his door open and leaping from the truck even as he sprays bullets toward a group of men running in the other direction.
“Why the fuck did Dante leave that guy in charge?” Baz mutters and I chuckle.
“Don’t be fooled by the craziness. He’s the smartest man you’ll ever meet, and always the guy you want watching your back.” I check my gun and open my door too.
As gunfire pierces the air, a masculine whimper draws my attention to a stack of crates next to my truck, and with my gun raised, I round the stack to find a guy, probably not even in his twenties yet, curled in on himself, trying to hide.
I press the barrel of my gun to his head.
“Are you ready to die?” I ask him, and he stiffens, lifting his head from his arms to stare wide eyed at me. A quick glance down and I see he’s wearing a leather vest. A cut. And the badge on it says Prospect.
His trembling body quivers, but the shake of his head is clear enough, so I kneel down to get eye level with him.
“You have two choices here. The first is, you can continue to support the Reapers and not cooperate with me, in which case, I will pull the trigger. Or, you can choose to live, tell me where the girl is that they brought in not long ago, and I’ll let you go, but you have to leave this behind,” I fist his cut, and his nostrils flare as he heaves in panicked breaths, “and choose a new fucking path in life.”
“She-she’s down in the b-basement level.”
“Show me.” I snarl and he balks.
“B-but you said if I t-tell you where she is t-that you’ll let me go.”
“I will let you go. Once I have my wife.”
“Your w-wife?” His brows shoot high. “N-no one said s-she was married.”
With my fist still in his cut, I drag him closer. Nose to nose.
“That’s because you are taking orders from motherfuckers who only care about money. And even if she wasn’t married, it still wouldn’t be alright!” I scream the last part of my sentence in his face, and the smell of piss meets my nose.
“Get the fuck up and take me to her.” I hiss, dragging him up before shoving him deeper into the warehouse.
As Cain covers us, Baz follows behind me, watching my back, as I force the kid to lead the way. He hurries along. Not wanting to drag it out, which I’m fucking grateful for, because every fucking second that I’m not with my wife, is a second too long that they are with Cara, possibly doing heinous things to her.
As we walk, Baz shoots anyone trying to come at us from behind, and I end about three Reapers on the first level, and another two on the lower level, before we reach the basement steps.
“They are down there.” The kid trembles at the top of the steps, and for a moment, I feel fucking guilty for what I’m about to do.
Shooting Baz a look over my shoulder, I prepare to shut my morals down, knowing the only way I can get to Cara is by leaving them up here.
“I have to do what I have to do,” I tell Baz, and his eyes dart to the kid before meeting mine again.
He nods. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Nodding, I turn my eyes to the stairs and suck in a deep breath before grabbing the boy by the scruff of his neck.
“Hey. What are you doing?” he cries, but I ignore it.
“Move.” I demand, shoving him forward, but not letting go of him as we start our descent.
The kid whimpers as we hurry down the steps, and at the bottom, we turn into a room, and are immediately assaulted by gunfire.
Holding the kid in front of me, I use him as a shield, wrapping an arm around him as I point and shoot with my other hand. His body is peppered with bullets, and his limbs fall lifeless as I hold him up, moving further into the room as I shoot two of the Reapers, and Baz takes care of another two.
“Come back!” a woman screams in frustration as we move deeper in the room, her eyes trained on an open door in the back corner.
“They’ve run like cowards,” I tell Martina, gaining her cold glare. “I hope you weren’t paying them too much. It’s a pity you won’t be alive to ask for a refund.”
“You son of a bitch!” she snarls, storming closer to me. “You’ve ruined everything!”
I chuckle dryly. “If you didn’t want me showing up here, then why send the photo with the address on the back when you had Grayson dumped at our doorstep?”
Her brows shoot up. “What? There was an address on the back of the photo?”
This time it’s my eyes that shoot up. “You didn’t ask them to do that?”
“No,” she hisses. “They were meant to dump the boy with the photo only, to show you that you lost.”
“That’s what you get for hiring thugs,” Baz tells her, strolling past her to the door on the side wall and gesturing his head to it. “Is she in there?”
“Get the fuck away from there!” Martina cries, lunging for Baz, who raises a lazy brow and clocks her in the head with the butt of his gun, sending her crashing to the floor.
“Watch her,” I tell Baz, marching past him as the gunfire above increases, and I know Dante and the others have arrived.
The heavy metal door is latched shut from this side, so I jimmy the lock until it pops free, and then heave the door open.
My breath catches as I come face to face with my wife, but by the dark expression she’s wearing, I don’t make an attempt to move into the room.
“Move.”
Her tone is laced with dark intent, and I know the killer in her is here with me right now. The punisher.
Giving her a curt nod, I step aside, allowing her the space she needs, and her sinister gaze scans the area as she steps out of the room where her dead brother still lies in a pool of blood.
“Cara.” Martina pleads. “You know I only did it because I love you. I just wanted the best for you.”
Slowly stalking toward her mother, Cara scoffs. “What a crock of shit. You wanted me to make money for you. End of discussion. There’s nothing more to it.” As she moves closer, Martina tries to scurry backward, still on the floor. “There was never any love involved.”
Holding her hand out, Cara demands. “Knife.” Even while her eyes remain locked on her mom.
I unsheathe my knife, stepping up behind her and placing it in her open palm, and Martina starts to shriek.
“What are you doing?” She springs to her feet, but she has nowhere to go.
On one side Baz blocks her path, and I block the other. And since her daughter is directly in front of her and there’s a wall at her back, she realizes she’s trapped.
“Please, mija. Don’t do this.”
“I should have done this three years ago.” Cara snarls before lunging forward and slamming her mom hard against the wall, the blade at her throat. “Julietta and Mateo were mercy killings. Because of what you put Julietta through, she wanted an end to her suffering, so I gave her that. I granted her wish. Let her leave this life on her terms.” Cara knicks the skin at her mom’s neck, making Martina hiss in a breath. “Mateo was different. His suffering was never going to end, so I put him out of his misery.”
Cara pushes off her mom and slams the blade into her shoulder. Martina screams like a banshee, the noise echoing off the metal walls, blocking out the sounds of war from above.
“You and dad, however.” Cara reefs the blade free, and Martina nearly collapses to the ground, but somehow manages to stay standing. “There is no mercy for you. You and he were, are, monsters. The absolute scum of the earth. There’s nothing you can ever do to make up for the vile things you’ve done to me, to Mateo, to Julietta, to Rose…” She slams the blade into her mom’s gut this time, and Martina collapses with a cry. Standing over her, Cara presses her bare foot to her mom’s hand when she tries to reach for the handle of the knife protruding from her abdomen. “Or to the countless other girls you have abused over the years.”
“C-Cara… p-please.” Martina gargles in pain, but her daughter doesn’t falter. Not even for a millisecond.
Dropping to her knees, Cara tugs the knife free, holding it up over her mom’s face.
“Look at your blood. You’re dying mom. Your life source is oozing out of you, and you’re going to die here on this filthy floor of this shitty room, knowing you were betrayed by the men you hired for protection. How does that make you feel?”
Martina whimpers, and Cara shrugs. “Not that I care. I hope this is excruciating for you. I hope you suffer as you watch my face, knowing I’m the one who killed you, because you’re nothing but a fucking oxygen thief.”
“C-Ca—”
“Don’t say my fucking name!” Cara roars, slamming the blade back into her mom’s gut. “You are not fucking worthy!”
And then, as Martina watches the monster she created at work, my beautiful killer starts stabbing her mom over and over as she screams.
Blood sprays and splatters as Cara plunges the knife repeatedly into her mother’s torso, before she moves to her face, her mom already gone, and she stabs her face until she’s unrecognizable.
A rumble from above snaps me and Baz from our hypnotized state, and while he moves, gun raised to check the stairwell, I approach my wife like she’s a wild lioness.
“Killer.” I rasp from next to her, my voice snapping her attention to me, and I gesture my head to Baz. “We have to go, hermosa. I need to get you to safety.”
With her chest heaving from her explosive assault on her mom, Cara slowly stands, knife still in hand and gives me a nod.
“We have to go.” Baz calls out, and we hurry forward, as we step over the dead Reapers, and the kid that I sacrificed, and make our way back up the stairs.
All the action is still happening on ground level, so when we step out, we see a couple of Reapers with their backs to us, firing into the main space where I abandoned my truck.
With swift and fluid action, Baz shoots the two Reapers with precision, and we keep moving.
As we step out into the foray, a body slams into me, and we roll, crashing into the wall as Cara cries out.
“You fucking cunts! You have ruined everything!” The asshole snarls in my face as he presses his forearm to my throat. His brown eyes are wild, and his sparse beard is singed, and as I buck him off successfully, the fight turns to fists.
We roll around, grunting and punching, and I can’t take my fucking eyes off him for a second to see where Cara is and if she’s okay.
My fist lands a crunching blow into his nose, blood spraying out everywhere as he lurches away, and I see the patch on his vest says President, with the name Rusty underneath.
A cry from my left snaps my attention in time to see Cara in a fucking knife fight with a Reaper.
Pain explodes down my cheek before warm blood rushes over my skin.
Shocked, my gaze catches back onto the Reapers’ President, and the shard of glass in his hand.
“Did you just fucking cut me?” I snarl and he grins.
“I fucking did. What the fuck are you gonna do about it?”
I lurch for him, copping another slash on my arm, but the shard tumbles from his hand as we thud to the ground, and I start laying blow after blow into him.
A loud explosion booms through the warehouse, throwing me off the Reaper, my hearing vanishing momentarily before it’s replaced with yelling and fucking annoying ringing.
“Come on, let’s go!” Dante’s voice bounces off the walls as he pulls me up off the ground, but I try to pull out of his grip.
“Cara!” I yell, and Dante slaps my chest.
“Over here, man.” When I turn to him, he points to a man running out of the warehouse carrying a woman. “Cain has her.”
“Cara!” I yell, pushing past Dante as he and Baz run at my heels, and we manage to get outside right before the structure collapses in on my fucking truck.
“That was close.” Baz mutters, and I want to agree, but my mind is on my wife.
Cain was carrying her.
Is she hurt?
“Cara!” I yell, needing to have my hands on her. See if she’s fucking okay.
Did I fail to protect her?
Am I even worthy of being her husband if I can’t fucking do that?
“Mi rey!”
Her voice, so strong and determined, snaps my head to the side, to see her running for me.
“My queen!” I yell back, closing the distance in time to catch her as she leaps on me and wraps her legs around my waist.
Our lips slam together, our fingers claw each other like we can’t get close enough.
“Nothing to see here.” Cain chuckles as he walks by, and we both grin against each other’s lips.
“Fuck. I thought I’d lost you.” I admit against her lips, and she squeezes me tighter.
“Nothing on this earth can keep me away from you,” she mumbles back before deepening the kiss.
Our tongues clash with want, the metallic salt of blood mixed in as our bodies stay glued together, and I wish there was no one around right now so I could strip my wife bare and claim her right fucking here.
“They got away.” Munroe pants from nearby, and I break the kiss to glance at Dante and Baz talking with the men.
“How many got away? Do we know?” Dante asks and Stretch answers as he swipes the sweat from his brow.
“There were at least six. Maybe eight. The rest are dead.”
“Did their President get away?” I ask, stepping toward their huddle while I carry Cara. I’m not fucking letting her go. It’s okay, though, because she makes no move to get down, and I feel her gaze on me as I await a response.
“Yeah it looked like they were protecting him as they went. They had a truck, and some motorcycles stashed in the tree line at the back of the yard.” Munroe offers and Dante curses.
“It would have been an end to our MC problem if we had killed them all.”
“Until the next club tries to bid for the territory.” Baz points out and Dante nods.
“You’re right. There’s still a gap there that needs to be filled.”
Turning his eyes to me I give him a nod.
“I’m still prepared to do that. Especially with this one by my side.” I give Cara’s ass a squeeze but then realize it’s hanging out the bottom of that skimpy bit of fabric her mother had her dressed in. “Shit.” I try to cover her and the guys chuckle before Dante tears off his shirt and tosses it at us, and I make quick work of tugging it over her head and helping her into it, covering her up better.
“Does that mean Cara will be your Old Lady or whatever it is a President of an MC calls their woman?” Cain asks and Cara’s eyes go wide.
She’s shaking her head before I can even respond.
“No fucking way am I being an Old Lady. I’m your fucking wife.”
The men laugh and I grin, looking into her fiery gray eyes.
“Of course, Killer. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
She grips my jaw roughly and bares her teeth. “I’m glad we are on the same page.”
I chuckle and try to kiss her, but she pulls back, still glaring.
“Who did that to your face?”
My brows shoot up, and like she’s flipped a switch, I feel the throbbing pain that runs down my face.
“The Reapers’ President.”
I tell her, and her brows knit.
“I’m not sure if I should thank him or sever his dick.”
“What?” I laugh and I watch as her eyes travel the length of the gash on my face. “Why would you thank him?”
“Well, it looks kinda badass.” She grins wickedly and leans in closer, “It’s kinda making me wet.”
I growl low, squeezing her ass again and grinding my hard length between her legs to let her know I’m right there with her.
“I think it’s very befitting of a President of a motorcycle club.” She grins and my brows shoot up.
“How do you know?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not stupid. I have ears. I listen, and I’m pretty sure that’s what you and them,” she gestures her head back toward Dante and the others who are still talking shop, “were talking about.”
“So you’re on board with it?” I ask, hope filling my gut at the prospect of this actually working.
“Hell yes. But I do hope you will involve me in more than just being the pussy you go home to at night. If you do this, I want to do it with you. We have the opportunity to create something great. Fill a gap for more than one reason.”
I smile down at my fierce wife, “I meant what I said before. I want you by my side, Cara. I can’t do this without you.”
She grins and agrees, “I’ll be right there with you.”
“Fuck.” I press my forehead to hers, my eyes locked onto her gray pools as I squeeze her impossibly close. “I fucking love you.”
Those gray eyes, normally so confident, and well, angry, soften as they turn glassy. “I love you too, mi rey.”
“You do?” I ask as my heart does a fucking triple somersault in my chest.
“Yes. I really do.”
Our lips slam together again, claiming each other in the wake of our declarations, and I know without a doubt that although there’s a tough road ahead of us, we will navigate it together and come out the other side so much fucking stronger.