“I don’t know where he is, I swear!” Gray hollers out. “I would tell you if I knew. If you let me go, I’ll find him and deliver him to you personally.”
“Is that a promise?” I ask him, tilting my head to the side. Does this fucker think we were born yesterday? We know what his intention would be if we were stupid enough to fall for his lines of bullshit. He’d find Jeremiah and they’d disappear. For a time anyways. Long enough to build an army and come back after us.
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Pops says as he comes down the stairs with a few men following him. He’s removing his suit jacket and then begins rolling up his shirt sleeves. “Son, I believe I’m owed some time with this fuckface.”
“Yeah, Pops,” Gunner agrees. “Ma okay?”
“Yeah, son, she is. I had to wait until I could tuck her into bed before joining you boys.” His eyes begin scanning the room until they land on the crowbar that’s hanging on the wall. “That should do nicely to begin with.” We all step back and allow him to do his thing. We are all angered by the loss of our friend, our brother, but Pops, he feels that shit down deep. “Have you answered my boy’s questions, Gray?”
“I have no answers for you. I don’t know where Jeremiah is!” Gray screams.
“Take it down a notch or two, otherwise I’ll cut out your damn tongue before the real fun begins.” Pops’ order has Gray clamping his jaw firmly shut.
“You know, we would’ve been happy with just Jeremiah, but you had to go and pretend like you’ve grown some balls,” Master infers, as he goes around and binds Gray’s legs together. We don’t want him to be able to kick out and injure one of us.
“Shamus, since he has no stories to tell us, why don’t you duct tape his mouth shut,” Gunner issues, and I happily oblige. “You see, Gray, we’re not the only ones who will be hunting Jeremiah. There isn’t a hole big enough he can crawl into that we won’t find him. He’s pissed some pretty powerful people off.”
Gray begins to cry as he listens to us. I think the fact that he won’t be waking up in the morning has finally settled in.
“You won’t be able to torture or hurt another woman.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, Pops pulls back the crowbar and lets it swing. Even though his mouth is gagged, we can still hear the yelps of pain. For the next ten minutes, Pops swings that damn thing like a damn baseball bat. Gray’s knees are swollen and deformed, his ribs are nice and broken as he wheezes and fights for his next breath.
For the next three hours, we use different utensils to beat on him. By the time we’re done, Gray is no longer breathing.
Two down.
One to go.
I use the showers down here and scrub my skin clean of the blood. We may not be able to breathe easy yet, but knowing that we got his main men taken out, makes it just a little bit easier.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Star
We get to move into our home today. It’s been a long, tiring six months since we lost Zero. Country and Malice are finally home from the rehab center. And whereas their bodies are healing nicely, their minds are still playing catch up.
I found Country standing in the front yard the other day. He was lost in his mind as his eyes stayed glued to the last place Zero was standing. I could tell he was going down a road he should stay away from, so, as his friend, I guided him over to the bench and forced him to talk to me.
We spent hours out there, smoking, drinking and getting things off of our chest. Charlee and Shamus made sure we never had an empty glass, but otherwise, they left us alone. I think they both knew we needed someone outside of our inner circle to get everything off of our chest to.
I never, not once, saw a look of jealousy or hurt come across their faces. That day, it’s the one that I finally gave all of myself to them. Shamus already had me, but I hadn’t realized that I’d been holding everyone else at an arm’s length.
That time with Country helped me heal, and I’d like to think I did the same thing for him as well.
The men are all hustling and bustling to get my furniture moved in. I got to go shopping for my very own things! We never leave the clubhouse without a small convoy in tow, but it doesn’t make me feel smothered like one would assume, it makes me feel loved.
Tomorrow is Ella’s third birthday; Shamus has helped me get a birth certificate for her. He presented it to me a month ago, and I cried a river of tears when I saw his name listed as the father.
The old ladies and I are determined to get this house into order so I can throw her a birthday party. I’m actually more excited about that than the move into our forever home.
Shamus gave me a wad of money and told me to go all out for our little princess. And boy have I. There’s going to be enough food to feed a small army, one of the spare rooms is filled to the brim with toys and clothes for her. Ninety percent of them are from Shamus and me. We’ve never gotten to spoil her before, so we’ve had a blast doing it now.
Shamus and the boys have all gotten together and made her a mini motorcycle. They built it from scraps and it’s built for her size. There’s two wheels on the back and one in the front. They even painted it pink and grey for her. I’ve been promised that she won’t
