Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Bane
This can’t be fucking real. I lift the night vision binoculars and look through the magnified lenses again.
I still can’t fucking believe what I’m seeing.
The address Cyber gave us has led to the most nondescript, cookie-cutter two-story house on the planet.
White siding, blue shutters, red door, and out in the middle of fucking nowhere.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think we were casing Beaver Cleaver’s second home in Florida. The armed guards patrolling the perimeter tell a different story, though.
“What do you want to do?” I ask, lowering the night goggles and glancing at my brother.
Tacoma’s eyes are sharp, calculating. That’s what makes him a good leader. He sees shit from angles that most men never can. My brother crouches down, and we all huddle closer.
“We gotta go on foot from here,” he says, his voice low. “Hit the house from all sides. We have to take out all the guards at once, and we have to be quiet about it. We don’t need whoever’s inside there,” he nods towards the house, “to know they’ve got company.”
We all nod in agreement as we synchronize our watches to ten minutes past midnight. That’s when we’ll make our move.
“You heard the man,” I grin, moving towards the south end of the property. “Let’s go.”
I stay low, creeping through the shadows. Once I’m in place, I check my watch and start counting down.
Twenty-nine.
Twenty-eight.
The seconds tick by slowly with me on the balls of my feet, ready to pounce.
Two.
One.
Now.
The guard walking patrol never sees me coming. With a hard twist, I snap his neck with a sickening crunch. His lifeless body drops to the ground, and I quickly drag it into the brush, away from where anyone might find him.
“Clear,” Bash’s voice crackles through the coms.
Pressing the button on the device in my ear, I repeat the all clear and jog towards the house.
“You good?” my brother asks, lifting a dark brow when I crouch down beside him under the living room window, huffing and puffing like I just ran a marathon.
“Yeah,” I choke out.
Shaking his head, he turns his attention back to our five-man crew.
“I know we already voted on this, but I have to be sure everyone is still on board because if we go any further, this will start a war with the Valenciaga family.” He gives us a minute to let that sink in.
Fucking with them isn’t nothing. If we poke this big fucking bear, it will poke back.
“And that means a war with the Sinners,” I say the quiet part out loud.
It’s clear from the look on everyone’s faces that nobody needs any extra time to think about it. We’re far from good men, but there are lines we won’t cross, and this is one of them. We don’t hurt women, children, and those who can’t protect themselves.
“Fuck those cocksuckers,” Journey quietly rumbles.
Bash and Gator nod their agreement.
“Looks like it’s settled, big brother.”
“Good,” Tacoma grunts. “Let’s go.”
Lifting my boot, I kick in the front door. It rips from the hinges, giving way to a man in nothing but a pair of black boxers, sitting in a recliner with a beer in hand and his eyes wide with shock. I don’t give him time to react. One pull of the trigger and his brains paint the wall behind him.
Lights out, motherfucker.
Journey moves past me as another man comes rushing out of the kitchen, gun raised. Lifting his pistol, my best friend squeezes the trigger, putting a bullet right through the bastard’s heart.
“Tim-Ber,” Journey says morbidly as the man falls to the floor face-first like a felled tree.
Three more shots ring out from the other side of the house, and I start to move in that direction when Gator comes through the kitchen. “All clear,” he confirms as he steps over the dead man Journey shot.
With the house secure, I start down the hall to check the rooms. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end when I get to the first door and find it locked from the outside. Fuck. I steel my nerves, because I know in my gut that whatever I’m about to find won’t be good.
Sliding the bolt to the side, I push the door open and stop dead in my tracks as bile rises in my throat.
Journey steps up beside me. “What’d you find—“ The words die on his lips as we both take in the scene.
Two naked women are huddled together on a dirty mattress in the corner of the room. Their eyes are bloodshot, pupils dilated. They’ve been drugged. Feeling eyes on them, they turn towards us, and the smaller woman whimpers.
“Hey, hey,” I say softly, lifting my hands, hoping to show her that I’m not a threat. “It’s okay. We’re here to help you.”
Scurrying farther into the corner, they try to make themselves smaller.
Shit.
“Is either of you Heather?” I ask gently.
They shake their heads, still trembling.
“Stay with them,” I tell Journey as I move down the hall to the next door and push it open, finding another woman in far worse shape than the last two. She’s lying on a bed, staring blankly at the wall, her body covered in bruises.
“Are you Heather?” I ask, keeping my distance so I don’t frighten her more than she already is.
She turns her head towards me, revealing dark bruises in a perfect handprint around her neck.
Motherfucker. Someone got off on hurting this poor woman.
Closing my eyes, I send up a promise to the gods that if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to kill every motherfucker who had a hand in this.
Opening my eyes, I try again, asking, “Are you Heather, Darlin’?” but her eyes remain vacant as she stares right through me.
“Okay,” I say more to myself as I back out of the room and move to the last door at the end of the hall.
Please let her be in here. Please.
Twisting the handle, I push it open, and I’m hit with the unmistakable smell of death. Instantly, my hand goes up, and I cover my nose. “Jesus,” I hiss, but that’s when I see her.
The body of a young girl is on the bed, lying at an awkward angle with her eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I check the photo Cyber gave us one more time to confirm.
“No,” I whisper, driving my fist through the drywall. “FUCK!”
“What?” Bash asks from behind me.
“It’s Heather.” Pushing off the doorframe, I move past him down the hall and out the front door.
Fuck, fuck, FUCK!
I swing wildly at thin air as rage flows through my veins. She was just a fucking kid.
Strong arms wrap around me from behind. “Bane! Bane! Calm the fuck down.”
“Get off me!” I try to shrug my brother off me, but he’s too strong.
“I’m sorry, Cooper. I know you wanted to find her.”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
“Pull it together, brother. We need to get these women out of here,” he says, releasing me as headlights appear on the dirt road that leads up to the house.
The white, nondescript van pulls up and Foxy hops out, hurrying over to us. “Did you find her?” she asks, her eyes bouncing between Tacoma and me.
My brother shakes his head. “We were too late.”
Foxy’s face falls. She’s just as devastated as we all are.
Tacoma pats me on the shoulder. “Head on back to the clubhouse. We’ve got this.”
I nod, my head still spinning from all I’ve seen. How the fuck am I going to tell Frankie that we were too late? That all her work, all those hours she spent trying to find this girl were for nothing?
The ride back to the compound is a blur, my mind racing with how I’m going to break the news to her.
Fuck.
I pull into my spot and climb off my bike, my body aching from the night’s events. When I walk through the door, I spot Frankie at a table, waiting. One look at her face—the anger, the hurt, the betrayal—and I know.
She knows.
Somehow, she fucking knows.
“Frankie—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Don’t,” she hisses, her eyes blazing with fury as she stands up. “Don’t you dare say a word to me.”
“Baby, let me explain—”
“Explain?” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Explain what? How the Kings covered up my father’s murder? How you let me believe he abandoned me? How you’ve been lying to me this whole time?”
Her voice rises with each question, every head in the room turning our way. This isn’t how I wanted this to go down.
“It’s not what you think,” I try again, taking a step toward her.
“Not what I think?” Tears start streaming down her cheeks, and seeing them feels like someone’s driving a knife into my chest. “I saw it with my own eyes, Bane! I saw the security feed of my father’s body. I saw the report that says the Sinners killed him, and I know that the Kings covered it up.”
Fuck. She must have hacked into the club’s secure server.
“Frankie, please—”
“I trusted you!” she screams, her voice breaking as she pounds her fist against her chest. “I gave you a part of me, and you knew what your club had done—what YOU had done!”
“The club didn’t hurt your father,” I say firmly, needing her to understand at least that much. “The Sinners killed him. We just—”
“No!” she cuts me off again. “You had a week to tell me the truth, and you didn’t. I spent months thinking he didn’t care enough to say goodbye!”
A guttural sob rips from her throat, her small body shaking with the force of her grief. All I want to do is pull her into my arms and hold her until her pain stops. “Please, baby.” I reach out a hand and she shrinks away from me.
“What’s all the yelling about?” my brother asks, coming in the door behind me.
Frankie’s eyes narrow when she sees him. “I’m leaving,” she announces, wiping at her tears.
“No, the fuck you aren’t,” I growl, stepping toward her. “Not until you hear me out.”
“Stand down, Bane,” Tacoma orders, his voice hard.
I whip around to face him. “Fuck you.”
“That’s a fucking order,” he growls back.
“Would you let Foxy leave?” I demand.
Pain slashes across his face. “Yes. If she wanted to go. It’d fucking kill me, but I would.”
Rage boils over inside me. No. Fuck no.
Grabbing the nearest chair, I hurl it against the wall, and it shatters on impact, pieces of wood flying everywhere.
Frankie flinches at the sound, but steels her spine.
Then, without another word, she walks out the door and right out of my life.