Chapter 15 #2
Curses go around the room and Gus looks fit to have a conniption.
Think, Rhodie. Where the hell would my stubborn as a mule older brother go to?
Hands on hips and my head hanging I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
I know exactly where he’s headed. I mean, where the fuck would I be if my Ol Lady and kid were holed up somewhere?
“He’s headed for Switch’s family ranch.” I murmur, looking at my brothers who surrounded me.
Tav frowns at me, before sharing a look with Jules. “How the hell is he getting there? All the SUVs are with the women and children and he can’t ride in this state. No way.”
“No. He wouldn't." Gus says, wide eyed as he stares at his brothers before looking back at me.
Jules frowns hard before realization dawns on his face. “No.” He says forcefully, but Tav is already shaking his head in disbelief.
“Tombs, I’m not in the fucking mood. Spit. It. Out.”
Savage lets out a snort then avoids my eye contact when I glare at him. Doesn’t stop that fucker Saint from snorting. Or Judge.
“No, I mean, Marx isnt suicidal. Like, he just wouldn't." Tav stands with his hands on his hips, looking bewildered.
“Wouldnt what? I swear to fucking god I will shoot every one of you Tombs if you don’t spit it out.” I growl, fists clenched to stop from throttling someone.
We got fucking McDonald and Thompson we’re trying to set up, Petrov is on the move and my fucking brother is out there with a death wish.
“I’d answer the man if I were you,” Roman says.
Add that to the list of the shit bearing down on me. Having to take my brother’s half brother who happens to be a dishonest Pakhan with me everywhere I go. Fucking great.
Gus and Tav share a look before Jules mutters, “Carmelita.”
“Carmelita?” My brows pull low.
“She’s Pops’ baby. ‘67 Camaro. It was wrecked in an underground race, like that shit from Grease. Anyway, he got it for a song and he and his father fixed her up.”
“How come we’ve never heard of this?” Judge asks.
“Because and I quote, ‘I dont need no fucker drooling over my baby. She’s for me and me alone.” Gus says, mimicking Pops.
“Well, looks like she might be Marx’s now,” Saint says, slapping a hand on Gus’s shoulder and cackling like an Ol Lady.
Fuckin’ great.
Joy
“Cowabunga!” Ana yells before downing another pink drink.
“Ugh, I swear that I’m kicking Tav out if he makes the kids watch any more ninja turtles.” Blanche whines.
“What’s a ninja turtle?” Loyal asks, one eye looking saggy from the drinks. Or is it my eyes making her eyes look saggy?
I close my eyes tight and count to four before blinking them open. I’ve never really drunk much before, probably because my father was a raging alcoholic but I feel like here, with the girls, I’ll be fine. I just have to not touch anything sharp. Like the knives that Chewy has laid out.
“Whoa, where did that axe come from?” Kaia mumbles.
“This? I found it over there. Switch’s family actually has a whole range of them. I’m adding them to the table of sharp things we can throw,” Chewy says while waving around the tomahawk.
“Whoa whoa, preggo, there will be no throwing of sharp things.” Mercy says, her long legs eating up the space between her and Chewy to take the extra weapons from her.
“Oh no,” Mira says with concern, sliding her sunglasses down her nose as she waves her drink around in the air. “Don’t take the extra sharp pointy things away.”
“Wait, you too?” Kaia says, swinging to look at Mira. “Are you into throwing knives?”
“I wasn’t before. But now I am.” She nods toward the targets Chewy has set up.
Each of them has a face taped to the bulls eye. Wait. I close one eye to get a better look, and then I freeze. Is that Travis? I move forward to get a closer look, happy that I’m not weaving around or stumbling in my sneakers. Obviously the alcohol only affects my eyesight.
“Joy! The drinks are back here, girl!” I think that’s Reid’s sister Martha calling me, but I keep moving, eyes on the target.
A gasp catches in my throat as I get a better view of the bullseye.
Right there, in the middle of the target is Travis’s smug face.
Looking around there are more faces in the other targets, but this is the only one that interests me.
The man who made my life a living hell. Marching to the table that Chewy has set up I slam my half empty girly drink down on the table and pick up a knife.
It’s a big meaty one, a cleaver I think it’s called and it doesn't feel right in my hand.
So I put it down and run my gaze over the set up.
“Ah, Joy, you OK?” Lovely asks gently as she watches me weigh the knives in my hand one by one.
“I think I’m about to be better than OK,” I murmur before turning on my heel, lining up and flinging the knife in my hand at Travis’s stupid, fat face.
The knife bounces off and I storm toward the bullseye to pick it up before moving back to the line to try again.
“What the hell? That’s my father!” Blanche says, putting her drink down and squinting at her bullseye.
“Yup. And your uncle, and Loyal’s father is down there. Mira, that crazy woman that sent you body parts -”
“What?” Mercy and Gallows bark at the same time.
“- and Vi that crappy ex of yours. Kaia, your ex is down there too, so is yours Jazz. Nat, that man who tried to traffic you, and Ana, your old bodyguard. Pretty much every shitty ex or parent is all down there.” Chewy finishes off looking proud.
“Ah, Chewy, why is Tank on your bullseye?” Mira asks.
“He ate the last Twinkie, Mira. And I’m not taking that shit lying down.” With that Chewy lifts a knife, tosses it in her hand and then spins, her arm shooting right out as we all watch as her knife lands directly between Tank’s eyes.
“Daaaaamn,” Nat whispers.
They all start picking up knives but I’m too preoccupied to notice. I don’t care how long this takes me, I will keep throwing until get my knife to land in Travis’s smug face. Then I’ll do it over and over again.
“Wait, is that Chef down there?” Loyal asks, staring at the extra bullseye while Chef’s head snaps toward her.
Chewy grins, “Yup, that one is for Sage.” Mama Debs nods once, turning to go find her granddaughter, the little kids all running around her feet.
I met Chef last night. He’s one of the men staying behind to help out.
He seems like a nice enough man, although I could tell there was history between him and Sage.
I don’t know the story, but it’s none of my business to know so I shake off the thought and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly while my gaze settles on Travis’s face all the way down there on the bullseye.
Closing my eyes, I picture the last time I saw his face, when it was leaning over me, bearing down as his eyes bulged with rage.
The way his spittle hit me on my cheek as I cowered, trying hard to shrink, to look the other way.
The way his gaze landed on Kit before his eyes turned back to me, pure evil as he leaned her way and his fist flew at her.
The way I wanted to kill him there and then but I was too scared.
Frozen. Cowardly. A scream rips from my throat as my arm pulls back and I fling the knife, aiming directly between Travis’s cold eyes.
Bullseye. But it’s not enough. My legs carry me to the target, only stopping when my left hand hits the backboard, my right grabbing the handle of the knife and wrestling it out of the old, scarred wood.
With it in my fist I stab at Travis’s face.
Again. Again. In. Out. Over and over in his cold, dead eyes.
His smug smirk. His doughy fat face that I know is rotting in the belly of a gator in a swamp somewhere in Louisiana but it doesn't matter.
This is for the old Joy. The Joy who couldn't stick up for herself.
The Joy who was afraid. The Joy who cowered. No more. Never again.
“It’s done, sweetheart. It’s done.” Momma’s gentle voice breaks through my tears and my screams and brings me back to the here and now.
The here and now where my friends are all standing with soft smiles on their faces.
Where Reid’s two sisters and three brothers all dip their chins at me.
Where the faces around me show pride. The knife drops from my hand with a dull thud in the grass as they all surround me with hugs and words of encouragement.
For the first time since I escaped, I feel free.
“Do you have more family members arriving?” Chewy says, squinting toward the trees, belly sticking out the bottom of her band t-shirt.
Gallows follows Chewy’s line of sight. “No. We’re all here. Why?”
“Huh.” Chewy says with a wave of her hand. “Just wondering, because that -” Chewy points toward the figure in the trees, “doesn’t look like one of the gingers I’ve been introduced to. A foreign ginger, if you will.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Nat asks, her gaze darting from Chewy, to the woods.
“There are fourteen gingers that are meant to be here. Five of Switch’s siblings, three of their children, Joy and Kit, Loyal and her two girls, and Gallows,” Chewy says waving a knife in his direction. “That,” she says pointing, “brings our total of gingers to fifteen. That’s too many gingers.”
“Why does that sound slightly hair-ist?” Jazz murmurs to me.
“I agree. I’m not sure whether to be offended or not,” I whisper to her.
Gallows and Mercy share a look and then both start to move with intent, little by little, scoping out the situation while Chef, Wire and Flack start running toward us along with Reid’s brothers. They probably saw something on the cameras dotted around the treeline.
“What do you think we should do?” Loyal whispers, edging closer to her little girls, much like I am.
“Mama and Momma!” Chewy yells over her shoulder as she tosses her knife in her hand. “Take the kids inside will you.”
“You’re getting inside too, preggo,” Gallows growls, he and his sister trying to corral us nearer the house with urgency, probably so they can go and get rid of the foreign ginger, as Chewy put it.
“Ladies,” Chewy says, ignoring Gallows completely. “Knives at the ready, throw on my command.”
“No!” Gallows growls, “Fucks sake-”
“Throw!”
Gallows
I’m going to kill my cousin. Seriously. I don’t need this shit. I have a clubhouse full of fuckers with no ears. I do not need to spend my time twelve hours away from home with a bunch of crazy fucking Ol Ladies who don’t listen either.
“You’re very quiet,” Mercy says, and I can tell she’s getting a kick out of this shit.
“Shut it.”
“Yes, Prez,” she says, the smile evident in her voice.
“Just hurry up and help me.”
Mercy rolls her eyes and grabs the ginger stranger's free foot and starts to drag him out of the treeline with me.
“Momma said to put him in the meat processing shed. I need him hanging. K thanks. I’m hungry.” The little menace waddles off presumably to get something to eat while we drag the human pin cushion behind us.
“So, when did the big, bad Saints Outlaws Prez become a prospect to a little preggo?”
“Didn’t I tell you to shut it?” I growl at my sister and ignore her cackling.
Any other person I would have ignored Chewy’s order, but there’s something about that little woman. You don’t become the icer for an MC by being well fucking adjusted. I want to see what she’s capable of.
Looking around I notice the pack of women following along, glasses of girly drinks in hand as they cackle and chat amongst themselves. Dropping the human pincushion’s foot I turn on them.
“Where are you all going?”
“Ah, same place you’re going,” the one wearing a patch saying she’s Property of Tav says.
“What?”
“Listen Prez, some of us enjoy a good show.” A short Latina says, waving at me to get a move on.
The man on the ground lets out a groan and quick as a flash a boot kicks him in the face. My eyes shoot up to the owner of the boot and a kind looking dark haired woman whose name patch reads “Lovely” smiles at me.
“You’re welcome.” She grins, as do all the women.
“Don’t worry big brother, you can kill Switch when he gets back,” Mercy says, giving me a sympathy pat on the back.
“Chop chop, I need to get started before dinner,” Chewy says, holding a bag of Doritos.
Yup. That does it. I’m definitely killing Switch as soon as I lay eyes on the big fucker.