Chapter 1 #2
They’re ruthless, and they live up to their reputation.
The Heat ain’t saints by any stretch, but we prefer to dabble in easy money and low body-count jobs.
We’ll move drugs and money, but we don’t take people out unless we have to protect our own, and we don’t traffic humans.
Dealing with this club is a necessary evil, part of the job.
If we want to do what we do, we need what they sell, and they’re the best way to get what we need.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t hate doing deals with the devil.
I scan the perimeter of dead grass, overgrown weeds, and discarded trash. A shithole lot with a shithole warehouse, but the sight lines are long. Unless the Hellfires have guys down in the long grass, there’s nobody out here. I take a shaky breath and check my watch.
Times like these, I wonder what my other “brothers” are up to.
I used to be a very different man. I’m sure some of the guys from my unit are overseas.
Some are retired. Some didn’t survive their deployments.
And then there’s me. Out here playing soldier in a leather vest with illegal guns in the wilds of Florida.
But I don’t have time for regrets. Not when I notice a sudden movement inside the truck that sets my teeth on edge. I check my watch again. Phantom and Shadow walked into that warehouse three minutes ago. I’ve got more than enough time to check out whoever the hell is playing lookout in that truck.
I approach from the rear, walking so fast my boots echo against the hot asphalt.
The window on the driver’s side door is open a crack, and I’m about to pound my fist against the door when I see a brown bun—messy and knotted on the top of someone’s head.
I squint through the crack in the window, but I can’t see shit.
I pound on the door. “Hey,” I call out. “Who’s inside?”
The person in the truck moves so fast it’s like she’s been tased. She peers at me through the crack in the window, and I can make out one brown eye and one enormous purple shiner.
It’s a woman and she’s hurt.
“Hey.” I rap gently on the window. “Open the door.”
The woman trembles and doesn’t say a word.
I lean a little closer to the window and see that her face is flushed bright red and droplets of sweat trickle down the sides of her face.
“Hey,” I say again. “It’s too hot for you to be in there with the window closed. Open the door. Let in some fresh air. I’m not going to bother you.”
She rolls down the window—a slow, cranking motion—another inch, though, and my stomach turns over. The black eye looks fresh.
I don’t want to scare her, and fuck knows I don’t want to get involved in whatever this is.
A tiny part of me hears alarm bells blasting through my memory banks at all the black eyes I grew up watching my mom cover with layer after layer of makeup.
The way she looked at me, her head low, reminds me of what this girl is doing right now.
“What’s your name?” I ask cautiously, shoving aside the memories.
She won’t respond. Doesn’t even acknowledge that I spoke.
“Listen,” I say, my heart at war with my head. I should not get involved. The last time I got between a woman and the shit-for-brains who beat her…it cost me everything. My career, my family. My future. Whatever this is, I don’t need to get any closer than I am.
But then I hear a whimper. That’s when I almost fucking lose it.
“Do you have a baby in there with you? Open the door and let in a little fresh air. You two have got to be hot. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”
I take ten steps back and hold my hands up in front of me. “Go on now. Open the door.”
She blinks at me through the window, and I wince at the way her swollen lid tries to close.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, that looks like it hurts, and my ulcer bubbles up pure acid at the thought of what she’s going through right now.
Her face disappears, but then, slowly and carefully, the driver’s side door creaks open. No wonder she didn’t want to open it. If she’s hiding out from whoever gave her the beating, that loud-ass door is like a siren.
When the door opens a crack, I wave at her in greeting. “Can I come a little closer? I have water in my bike if you need some.”
She looks away from me but shakes her head slightly. “No,” she whispers but then repeats it a little louder. “No water. Thanks, though.”
I take one step closer to the truck. “Hey, what’s your name?” I ask again, gently this time. But then I’m at a loss. She’s got to know what we’re doing here.
I draw in a deep breath and try to shove the memories away. This woman is not my problem.
Not my problem.
Not my problem.
“I’m Claire,” she says softly, as if just by knowing her name, I have the power to hurt her. And God, she doesn’t need more of that. “And, uh, this,” she says, her eyes never leaving mine, “is Aurora.”
She nods a little, and I take a few more steps toward the truck.
I stand a safe distance away, but I can see through the crack in the door that she’s holding a sleeping baby in her arms. No wonder she’s hot.
The baby’s silky brown hair looks wet and stuck to her little head.
The kid’s feet are bare, and she’s wearing just a little T-shirt and a diaper that, from the looks of it, desperately needs changing.
Claire doesn’t look so good herself. Her messy brown bun is matted and tangled, and the shorts and tank top she has on look like she’s been wearing them for a couple of days—at least. Claire is skinny—too skinny—for somebody who’s got a little baby.
To make things worse, the arm that clutches her daughter is covered in faded, hand-sized yellow marks.
I’m simultaneously nauseated and infuriated, and everything comes rushing out of me at once. “Are you with them?” I ask, my question coming out angrier than I intend. “You with Mad Dog?”
She bites her lower lip and shakes her head. “No…no. He’s my ex’s half brother. My ex…died…a couple days ago. I have no place else to go, so Mad Dog is…”
She swallows, and her eyes flutter shut. I don’t know what that means, what Mad Dog has been doing to her, but then it hits me.
“Anthony?” I ask. “Your baby’s daddy is—was—Anthony?”
She nods, but there’s something strange in her face when I say his name. She doesn’t look like a devastated widow. And I start to wonder if maybe that black eye is about three days old…
Just then, the sound of tires on asphalt distracts me from the conversation, and Claire slams the truck door closed like the devil himself is after her.
I look up and see Viper give me a wave as he pulls around the back of the warehouse. I check my phone. I have a text from Phantom giving the all clear. Viper’s going out back to get the product and to hand off the money.
The deal’s almost done.
I jog back to my bike and grab the unopened bottle of water that I’m glad I didn’t bother drinking. I go back to the truck and open the door, handing the bottle to Claire. “It’s not open,” I tell her. “Take it. I brought it for me. It’s hot as the devil’s dick out here. Keep yourself hydrated.”
She makes no move to take it, but I keep my hand out, trying not to stare at the vicious black eye. Jesus Christ. I can’t handle this right now. I shove the bottle at her and close the truck door behind me just as Phantom and Shadow leave the warehouse. Phantom nods at me.
Phantom, Shadow, Mad Dog, and I all exchange handshakes, and then we wait until Viper rolls up and idles the truck on the driveway, the transaction finally concluded.
Viper waits while we walk back to our bikes.
I’m halfway down the asphalt drive when I hear the ear-shredding creak of the shitty truck door opening.
“Get the fuck out of there.” I hear Mad Dog’s voice, low and mean, and despite the sweltering temperature, my blood runs cold.
I turn back and see that shady cowboy wannabe yank Claire out of the truck by the arm that’s not holding tight to her baby girl. Claire flinches like she’s ready to dodge another blow to the face, and she stumbles on bare feet.
Mad Dog is practically dragging her away from the truck when I stop in my tracks.
“Savage?” Phantom’s voice is low. He knows my history. Knows the highs and lows, the failure, and who I blame for everything. “What’s going down?”
I don’t say anything. I just turn to him and say, “I got to do this.” I don’t wait for a response.
I storm across the asphalt, trying not to imagine the soles of this woman’s feet burning while I’ve got inches of leather between me and the road.
“Hey!” I shout after Mad Dog, trying my best to swallow every insult my furious brain can conjure up.
“You forget somethin’?” Mad Dog doesn’t even bother to loosen his hold on Claire. He cocks his head at me and flares his nostrils, daring me to say something.
“How much for the girl?” I ask him. “And the baby.”
Mad Dog cocks a brow at me and looks from her back to me. “You see something you like?” he asks.
“All I want to know is what you want for her,” I say. “All in. No strings, no contact. All mine.”
His face drops, and he spits on the ground. He names a price—not even half what we paid for the guns. “Add in another five Gs, and you can have the truck too.”
I look back at Phantom, who’s looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. I may have, but I’ve gone too far now.
“Blade’s going to shit his pants,” Phantom says low under his breath.
I know that. Our club treasurer acts like he’s the chair of the Federal Reserve.
He manages our money so we can make “investments” like this one—buying weapons—and makes sure we always have more than enough in reserve.
The club supports a lot of people, and our numbers are growing.
That means our businesses need to grow too.
This transaction, though, isn’t going to make a dent in the club kitty. This is a personal debt.
I pull out my phone and text my lawyer. I have the money, and my lawyer knows how to get at it.
This is my choice. “My money,” I mutter to Phantom.
I don’t want Mad Dog overhearing anything that could make him change his mind or up his price.
It’s already steep enough to do some real damage.
“This is on me, not the club,” I tell Phantom, ignoring the look on his face. Then I turn back to Mad Dog.
“Cash’ll be here in thirty minutes,” I tell him. “But you can keep your shit truck.”
I point to Claire, so she knows what’s about to go down. “You got anything you need to grab?” I know the answer before she says it. But she doesn’t even speak. Her undamaged eye is wide and red, like she’s fighting back tears.
I try to soften my voice so I don’t scare her, but I don’t want to give Mad Dog or anyone else a reason to look too closely. “Get in that truck. The driver’ll put the AC on. You got a kiddie seat for her?”
Claire again shakes her head, and I do my best not to give Mad Dog a punch that’ll make him wish he had Claire’s injuries instead of the ones I want to give him.
“Go. Get in the truck and stay cool,” I growl. “It’s too hot out here for a baby with no water.”
Mad Dog roughly shoves her away, and with help from Shadow, Claire stumbles over the dry, dead grass and climbs into the truck. I follow her and lean in to talk to Viper.
“Get out of here as soon as the money arrives,” I tell Viper. “Put the AC on. These two are fucking cooking.”
Viper looks at me as though I’ve lost my damned mind, and maybe I have.
I can’t think about it now. I’ve got to focus on finishing what I started and making sure the snakes of the Hellfires don’t try to double-cross me before I get this woman to safety.
What the hell I’ll do with her then…I have no fucking clue.
Phantom, Shadow, and I don’t talk while we wait for the sleek black car to pull onto the driveway.
Finally, a man in a three-piece suit climbs out.
I greet him, shaking his hand, while never taking my eyes off Mad Dog.
After talking with me quietly, the guy hands me a lockbox.
I give Mad Dog the box that contains his money and the passcode to unlock it.
After he opens it and counts the cash, he whistles through his shitty teeth.
“If I’d known she was worth so much, I’d have sold her a hell of a long time ago.” Then he turns and signals to his crew to roll out. “Nice doing business with you boys.”
The Heat waits until both Mad Dog’s crew and my drop-off guy have left before we roll.
“You know what the fuck you’re doing?” Phantom asks, lowering his sunglasses over his eyes. I don’t need to see his expression to know what he’s thinking.
I’m thinking the same damn thing, and I say it out loud.
“I don’t have the slightest idea what I just did,” I admit.
Phantom lets out a deep sigh. “A baby, a woman… Fuckin’ nuts, brother.”
When he says that, the implications of what I did hit me.
Phantom flares his nostrils and rubs his eyes hard, shoving his thumbs under his sunglasses.
We stay there for a minute as the reality sort of sinks in.
We’re about to put up a baby and a woman at the compound.
I know nothing about her, other than what I can see.
And now, she’s completely my problem.
What I’m thinking must be written all over my face because Phantom waves a hand at me and sighs. “It’s fucking done, so we deal with it. I’ll put in a call to Poppy. Let her know we’re going to have guests.”
Poppy is Phantom’s old lady. Between them, they have three kids and another on the way. Poppy’ll know what to do once Claire gets to the compound. But me…I don’t know the first thing about taking care of someone, let alone providing for a baby.
The enormity of it hits me, and I look over to Viper’s truck. I see the top of Claire’s hair, the rat’s nest of a bun on her head the only thing that’s visible. She must be slouched down out of sight, holding her baby.
The image of her hiding back there, barefoot, vulnerable, and most definitely hurt, sets my brain back to balance. No matter what I’m worried about, her fears have got to be through the roof. She just got passed off from the Hellfires to the Heat.
Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire. She has no way of knowing she’s safe now. That her nightmare is over—if she wants it to be.
Maybe we’ll get her out of here and she’ll run off, and I can rest easy knowing that I did what I could when I had the chance. Who the hell knows…
For a guy who hates surprises, this day has been full of them. And I have a feeling this is only the beginning.