Chapter 25

25

RIOT

Cold water wakes me from my sleep.

Not that I'd call it sleep, more like a deep haze that I'm shocked out of.

Cold fuckin' water will do it every time. I shake my head, the wakeup call bringing everything back in full force.

I'm in a warehouse of some kind. It's dark except for an overhead light that dangles down in true creepy warehouse fashion, I can't make anything else out. There's a musty smell, like grease, or oil, or even gasoline.

I'm tied to a chair, my wrists bound behind my back as I wince and try to gain focus.

I hear laughing and snickering before someone kicks my shin, like I'm not already awake. Asshole.

Out of my good eye, I see two goons in front of me. I don't know if they're the guys who came to the back of the van, but it doesn't really matter. They're dead anyway. Even if I am tied up, I'll find a way out of this somehow. That part I haven't quite figured out yet.

"Sleepin' beauty's finally awake," one of them snickers.

I'm not gagged, so I'm tempted to spit on them, but then again, if they land me another blow, that'll hurt like a bitch, so I keep quiet. Better not provoke the bear if I can help it. Preserving what little energy I have left will be the smartest thing to do. Still, adrenaline courses through my body. I'm amped. I'm ready to fight, and without these restraints, I'd find the will to end them both.

"'Bout fuckin' time," the other growls, clearly put out that they knocked me out cold.

"Next time you want your hostage to wake up," I murmur, "Might be a good idea to lay off the blows to the head."

Dickface one winces. They're covering their faces with masks and I've no idea why. If I make it outta here alive, no mask is gonna stop me from hunting them down and ending them like the pieces of shit they are. They made me leave my family unprotected, and that's unforgivable.

They both chuckle like I said something really funny. Then dickface one turns to dickface two. Let's call them D1 and D2.

"Think we've fucked him up enough?"

D2 crosses his arms over his chest. "Not nearly."

"She said to leave him alive."

"Pity."

"Who's she?" I sputter.

Neither of them acknowledge me, other than D1 giving my chair a kick. "Shut the fuck up or it'll be worth the punishment kickin' your ass some more."

"Easy to fuck someone up when they're unconscious," I laugh. "You know who I am. You know my club will come for me, and when they do, you're all dead."

"The NOLA Rebels can't do shit—" D2 starts.

"You think it's just my club?" I snort. "You're forgettin' about my ties with the Chicago Bratva." Assuming that this is what my kidnapping is all about, it might make them shit their pants. Then again, it might make them put a bullet in my head, too. "And then there's every Rebel club across the continental United States. And the other clubs we're affiliated with in Cali, Arizona, Texas, Mississippi, Utah…"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up!" D1 bellows, but neither of them touch me. It's like they want to hear about how they're gonna die but choose to ignore it.

I snicker. "We have the best hackers in the country. They already know who you are. You think you can hide?" I shake my head. "You can't hide anywhere. But I'm sure whoever's behind this didn't tell you that. You're scapegoats. Trash. The bottom of the barrel. That's why she got you to do the dirty work so she can stay hidden. When my club comes, you two will be the first on their hit list."

They both stare at me and I know I've got them. Sure, they may rough me up a little more, but when men get angry or annoyed, they fuck up. And I'm waiting for them to do just that.

"Let me guess, your mama didn't tuck you in as a little boy." D1 pretends to cry like a baby.

"No, she was shot dead by my dad," I say. "Then I shot him." They both pause for a moment, caught off guard and that just gives me the kicker to keep going. "I learned from an early age exactly how to get out of any situation, even this one."

D2 looks a little uneasy, even though I am fully tied to this chair with no way out — unless one of them is stupid enough to let me use the bathroom. I mean, the heavies aren't usually the sharpest tools in the box. D1 on the other hand doesn't seem fazed. In fact, the scowl on his face tells me he may just slit my throat right here and now.

D2 points in my face. "You think you can just keep yappin' away and makin' shit up and we're just gonna stand here and take it?" He lands a blow to my stomach, making me double over as I wince. It knocks the breath right out of me. "You're a second away from my gun bein' aimed at your forehead."

"Then you won't get paid," I sputter, fighting through the pain. "All that work for nothin'. Seems pretty useless to me."

"He's just tryin' to get under our skin," D1 points out. "Nobody's lookin' for him. Nobody even knows who we are."

I start to laugh, call it a hysterical reaction. "You think that's really true? You really think you covered all bases? All security cameras? You're sloppy, one of you will have fucked up somewhere, and you know what'll happen?" I glance up at them through my one good eye. I jolt forward. "BOOM!"

They both jump back in surprise and I fall back into my seat laughing. D2 is on me, punching me in the face as D1 tries to pull him off. I don't fuckin' care. I have faith in my club, and the more faith I have in them, the less unlikely it feels that I'll get out of this. I trust in Rock and Jett to find me. Blood drips down my face and this time I do spit, I narrowly miss D2's boot.

"Enough!" a female voice rings through the silence. The footsteps were so quiet, I didn't even hear them. "Didn't I say I wanted him alive?"

D1 and D2 both stop, their arms by their sides as she approaches. I can barely see shit, and I'm more than a little intrigued to see who wants me alive so she can kill me. I mean, I've heard of ex-lovers being crazy, but this takes the cake. Nope, she's no ex-lover of mine. This all screams Chicago, but who?

"He was cussin' you out," D2 mutters.

She snorts a laugh. "He was, was he?" She holds a gun to his head and he rears back. "Don't fucking lie to me. I knew I shouldn't have hired an asshole to do a man's job."

Just when I think she's going to lower the gun, she clicks the safety off and fires. Point blank into D2's skull. He falls to the floor, blood oozing out of his head.

I wince. I guess that's one less dick I have to kill later.

"Holy fuck!" D1 yelps, rearing back farther with his hands in the air. "I tried to get him to stop, he wouldn't listen?—"

"Shut the fuck up or you'll be next. Now get this asshole outta here before I ruin my shoes." She still hasn't come into the lightened space, her face covered by the darkness as I try to stay focused.

She rounds the back of my chair as D1 drags D2's lifeless body away, a trail of blood in his wake. "Well, well, Ghost. So we meet again," she purrs near my ear.

If my hackles weren't already up, they sure as hell would be now. "Again? Why don't you show your face? Better still, tell me who you are so I can jog my memory."

She laughs. "Now where would the fun be in all of that?"

"Is this about Chicago?"

"My, my, you do watch the news."

"You make quite the entrance, though. I don't know why you waited for eight plus years to get your point across."

She slides the gun across my cheek. It's warm from the bullet she just shot, and it leaves a trail of heat on my skin. "You always were a cocky son of a bitch."

She bends to my other ear. "It was because of you that I'm here."

"Go figure. What did I do to piss you off? Kill your lover, Mancini?"

She balks. "Mancini, is that what you think this is about?"

"Isn't it?"

"So many questions."

"So little answers. If you killed all those men in Chicago, I'd say you're a pretty good shot."

"And you'd be right."

"The question is, why now?"

"Who says I haven't been working behind the scenes for eight long years, Ghost? Or should I say, Myles? "

She knows who I am, which means my family and club are also in danger. It's to do with Chicago, but not Mancini, which makes no sense. The only other person who knew me back then was my handler; Carter. Wait, is this about him?

There's nobody else.

"So you think you know me?" I laugh. "Tell me how I know you, sweetheart. This could've been a lot less painful for the both of us."

"Oh, it won't be painful for me," she sings. "Nobody knows where you are, remember?"

"And like I just told your goons, my club knows everything. It'll only be a matter of time, then you'll all be dead."

She taps the gun on the other side of my cheek. "You say that like you really believe it. It's so sweet. I haven't been caught yet, and look what I've gotten away with."

"So you have a vendetta?" I spit again. "With what happened to Carter?"

She freezes, the gun pressing into my flesh. So, that's it. This is about him.

"Don't say his name?—"

"Carter?" I say again. "Who was he to you?"

I rack my brain to think about how good this chick must be to take out all those guys in Chicago when I recall a conversation I had with Carter years ago…

"She's called Shade. She's the best marksman in the business, aside from you, of course."

"So where is she based, and why am I just hearin' about this now?"

"Like all of you, you're ghosts. And she works out of Chicago. Maybe I'm taken with her because she's not only elegant but I like her voice."

"So you still haven't met her?"

"One day I will."

"Yeah, in your dreams."

He scoffs. "Thus the lonely life of a handler…"

"You say his name one more time and I'll blow your brains out."

"You're Shade," I state. "He told me about you."

"It's because of you that he's dead!" she spits.

"How do you figure that? I barely knew the guy."

She moves the gun to the back of my head, and for a second, I truly believe this bitch has the guts to do it. She brought me here to kill me herself. "All of you and the men you associated with played a part in his death. When he wanted out, they killed him."

"Who?" I mouth. And what the fuck does it have to do with me?

"The Russians and the Italians."

"Mancini's dead."

"Not the underworld; t he mafia , asshole."

"So, Bratva and the Italians have always had an understanding. Granted, the mob let the Russians do all the dirty work to save their own hides when the turf war broke out when Mancini took control over the city, but that beef is between them," I say. "The mob has ties all the way back to the Midwest. What does any of this have to do with Carter?"

"He was being paid by Bratva. He was working for them."

It's news to me. "He was independent—" He worked on both sides. He fuckin' worked both sides. "So he got greedy? Workin' for the mob and Bratva, then the Bratva found out?"

"You catch on quick."

"So why come after me? I was devastated when he died. We never met in person, but I liked the guy."

She still holds the gun to my head, not letting the pressure subside. She has full control and she knows it. "He wanted out. He needed a friend, and you turned your back."

I shake my head. "I never turned my back, I didn't know?—"

"Don't lie to me!" She socks me in the back of the head, the gun and the howl that leaves my throat isn't just for the pain. It's for everything. My girl. My club. The life I want. It ain't gonna end like this. I refuse to let it.

"Fuck!" I yell. "I'm not lyin'. But you of all people know, gettin' out is impossible, almost no one achieves it."

"But yet, you did it."

"I was one of the lucky ones. I fought hard for my freedom. I had nothin' to lose."

All I can think of is thank fuck she didn't want Halo. To hurt me, she'd want to hurt her, too.

"But now you do. Tick-tock."

What the fuck does that mean?

"I really hope your girlfriend got out of that house in time," she hums. "It would be a real shame for you to lose someone else so close to you."

"What did you do?" I spit.

She laughs. "So chilly all of a sudden, Myles. It hurts when someone fucks with your life, doesn't it?"

I shake my head. No. Fuckin' no! I thought Halo and Cookie were safe. I didn't even imagine that something could've happened to them.

"Cat got your tongue, Myles?"

"Fuck you!" I spit. "You're wastin' your time barkin' up that tree."

She walks around to face me. She has a silk scarf wrapped around her head so I can't see her hair, just her face. I'm surprised that she's pretty, in an evil bitch kinda way. "You thought I'd leave her unscathed?"

"So you were in love with Carter? Why didn't you help him?" I shake my head, then it hits me. "You couldn't."

She taps one long, blood red fingernail against her chin. "Let's just say my past caught up with me."

I smirk. "So really, you could point that finger around on yourself, Shade? You let Carter suffer and instead of helping him get out, you took the money for one last job and it didn't pan out so well."

I can see the cogs turning in her head. "You know, I was going to let you suffer horribly, but now I think I'm actually done with you." She aims the gun once more.

I love you, Halo. There's never been anyone but you.

The things I've yet to tell her. The things I'll never get to say…

She'll be in my heart forever.

The gun goes off and I flinch. I don't feel the pain I was expecting. It takes me a second to realize that it's not her gun and before I can even blink, I bounce in the air, the chair still attached, and bowl her over with my body. She yelps, the gun flying from her hand. Of course, without the use of my hands and legs, I'm useless and she manages to roll away.

"I told you they'd come!" I yell. "I fuckin' told you, you bitch!"

More shots sound and I've never been more relieved to hear the sound of guns.

She doesn't even have time to pick hers up before she shoots across the warehouse floor and disappears. She won't get far.

"Myles!" I hear a familiar voice, but not the voice I expected, unless my mind's playing tricks on me. "Son?"

It's Charles.

My eyes go wide as I roll onto my side. "Over here!"

"Thank fuck." Another voice. Cash? "He's hurt, but he's alive."

"Shade, she's… she left through the back," I choke.

I feel Charles' hand on my arm. "We'll get her, don't worry. Need to get you up."

"How?" I sputter, as Charles and Cash's faces come into view. "How the fuck did you find me so fast?"

"He's definitely okay." Wait, is that Manny? "He's still got a smile on his pretty face."

I laugh, but then wince from the pain. "It's because I'm not dead."

A few seconds later, I'm being pulled upright and Cash comes into view. He cups my face, tilting it to see if I'm injured. "Fuck, looks like you've seen better days."

Charles unties me and Manny's smile drops. I must look pretty bad.

"The boys earned their money this time." I close my eyes, wincing as Charles cuts the rope.

"Nope, that's where you're wrong," Manny says, helping with the ties at my feet. "I got roped in because the boys all left for the Parish. Happy to lend a hand, not like I get out much. Charles, tell him about the tracker in your watch."

I balk. What. The. Fuck?

Charles grunts. "You had to go there straight away."

Manny smirks. "Some birthday present. Think that'll work on my ex?"

I got that watch several years ago, I never take the damn thing off. Charles put a tracker in it?

Cash takes a call, stepping away.

I turn my head. "You got some explainin' to do, old man."

"Told myself I'd never go through all that shit again when you went to prison," Charles begins. "And I meant it. You got into so much goddamn trouble when you were younger after the military, then you went AWOL for a while. It may be morally wrong, but it made me able to sleep at night."

I snort, unable to be mad at him. "And here I was givin' the twins all the credit."

"Oh, they found the car and tracked it through the city," Manny fills me in. "But Cash contacted Charles when the others headed to St. Charles' Parish to let him know what happened, and that's when he mentioned the tracker."

"Sneaky son of a bitch. Does my sister have one too?"

Charles grunts again, finally freeing my hands. "She didn't need one. She's never picked up a gun in her life, gone to prison or given me any grief." His gray eyes meet mine.

"Thank you," I say. "I never thought I'd be happy to say that I'm glad you did that."

I get a brief smile. "If it makes you feel any better, son, I never had a need to use it until Cash called."

"You're so cool." Manny frees my feet. "I want a dad like you, Charles."

Of course, Manny has no idea Charles isn't my real dad, but I don't correct him.

"Get in line."

Charles rests his forehead against mine. "Don't ever do that to me again."

My throat thickens. "I won't."

"We good?" Cash comes back.

I'm in no shape to walk, so Manny and Charles each hitch me up under their shoulders and Cash stands in front, his gun pointed.

"Prez?" I hear Priest call.

"In here," Cash shouts.

Priest appears. "Got most of 'em but she's gone."

"Bitch knows this joint like the back of her hand," Hustler adds.

"Fuck." Cash swipes a hand over his face. "Call Casey."

Casey's one of our EMTs, and Crystal's sister; she often helps out when one of us is hurt and it'll raise too much suspicion going to the hospital.

"Gonna need to call this in." Priest takes one look at me. "Fuck, man."

"Jesus," Cash mutters. "Not gonna enjoy explainin' this."

"We could call it a lovers tiff?" Manny suggests. I'm glad he's still got his sense of humor, but it hurts when I laugh.

Before I know it, I'm being bundled into the back of Cash's truck as he and Charles climb in the front. Priest and Hustler take the next car, and Manny sits next to me.

I turn to him as we start to move. "Don't let her see me like this," I tell him. "Please."

Manny looks at me. "I don't know, Riot. I don't think a goddamn hurricane will stop that woman getting to you."

I cough a laugh, then regret it.

Manny rests a hand on my shoulder. "Try and rest, we'll get some pain killers for you soon."

"How the fuck did the cook get roped into this again?" I shake my head.

"Hey, I've got skills."

"You shoot a gun?"

"Been shooting targets since I was a kid, but never a real life target. I'm more of a backup plan."

I grin. "I guess you are."

He chuckles. "Glad to be of service."