Page 68 of Hawk's Cry

I almost drop the phone at the suggestion my wife might already be dead.

“Eli,” Wiz snaps as though he can see me. “Don’t slip back now. Olivia needs you. We fuckin’ need you. Now listen up. Are you hearing me, Eli?”

I grunt to show, yes, I’m listening. I’d wavered, had a wobble, but now I’m back.

“If I were him, Eli, I’d take your phone and keep you secured so I couldn’t warn anyone of a place or time. He won’t trust you. I doubt he’ll give you a chance to contact me again.”

“You’re right.”

“We’ve got this, Eli. We’ll be prepared. I’ll move all the old ladies, the families and Tommy down to the clubhouse. They’ll have to stay there until we hear further from you. Come at us anytime, we’ll be ready.”

I hear the sound of a vehicle stopping outside. “Gotta go. Got company.”

There are no goodbyes exchanged as I waste no time ending the call and slipping the burner phone down the side of the couch. Amateur place to hide it, but hopefully no one will look. I’m only just in time as straightening, hidden by the side of the window, I see Archangel step out of a truck, accompanied by four of his goons.

Just the sight of them gives me chills.

Clubs like the Satan’s Devils attract men who’ve served in the armed forces, a substitute for the camaraderie and also the regime during the time they were deployed. Other organisations attract the same sort of men, men who like discipline and a routine, but who have a disdain for citizen rules. A line of command which turns a blind eye to the worst excesses of men which wouldn’t go down well in society at all. The four who accompany Archangel aren’t deadbeats looking for cheap thrills, these men are white supremacists who’ve probably also served. It’s clear to see by the way they immediately surround him, their eyes scanning for danger in every direction.

If this is a sample of the army Archangel commands, taking him down won’t be easy.

But the Devils will be protecting their home. Nothing is more worth fighting for. And, it’s my hope, Archangel won’t command such loyalty in his men as that they’ll stay and fight for him. Once he goes down, they won’t sacrifice themselves for a corpse. It’s the cause they’re fighting for, not the man, too self-seeking to give their lives for each other.

Or, so I hope. I could be wrong.

My fists tighten at my sides. I’ve got to believe I’m right. The course of action I’ll be proposing to Archangel not only means Liv’s in danger, but our families and the members of the club who I still think of as brothers.

I go to open the door before Archangel knocks on it.

Two of his men barge their way in. When it appears they’re going to search me, I stand with my arms held out straight, thanking fuck I wasn’t still carrying the burner phone. They take my knife, my gun, Liv’s phone and finally my wallet.

“Careful,” I growl as a straying hand gets too close to my junk.

Ignoring me, they thoroughly investigate every place I could be carrying, then lift my t-shirt presumably to make sure I’m not wearing a wire. I’m asked to kick off my boots so they can check for tracers.

Finally, when they’re satisfied I’ve nothing left on me that could possibly be a threat, Archangel jerks his head and they place all my possessions down on the table. Clearly they’re not taking the risk of me having anything with me that could enable me to be tracked. Archangel clearly doesn’t trust me. Well, that goes both ways.

“Come with us,” he instructs.

“Is Olivia okay?” I question, not prepared to go anywhere unless I’m assured my wife is unharmed.

“For now,” he replies, ominously. “Whether she stays that way is up to you, and whether you’ve been telling the truth.”

A second’s hesitation in case I’m laying it on too thick, then I decide to go for it. “I’ve no reason to love the Satan’s Devils. They threw me out of the club. Took me six fuckin’ weeks to recover and my bones to heal.” I pause for effect. “Sure, my dad’s in the club, that’s the only reason they didn’t kill me.” For the past couple of months, I’ve so often wished that they had. Now I’m glad they didn’t. I’m here and have a chance to save Liv. “But that was the extent of his fatherly concern.” I shrug. “Only reason I haven’t done anything myself is that I’m one man on his own. I’ll happily help you to hit them where it hurts. But if anything has happened to Olivia, I’m not giving you shit.”

Archangel seems to issue a lot of non-verbal instructions. Before I have the chance to interpret the slight gesture of his hand, a fist belonging to one of his thugs hits so hard in my stomach, I double up, gasping for breath. My eyes water as I’d had no chance to prepare for the unexpected blow.

“That’s the least you’ll get if I find out you’re lying to me.” Archangel grabs a handful of my hair, forcing my head up to face him. “You’ll get a beatdown that will make your last seem like a picnic. I’ll keep you alive for days, and you’ll beg me for death. Especially when I rip that baby out of your wife’s belly while she’s still breathing. Hopefully it will be viable, as I can always find a buyer for a kid. Your wife will bleed out with the knowledge of what I did.”

I don’t doubt that Archangel would make good on his threat. For a moment, fear floods through me, but I’ve started this. I can’t fail, there’s too much at stake. I don’t care what he does to me, but I can’t allow him to hurt Liv, or our unborn baby.

I force myself to breathe as normally as a man who’s taken a hard blow to the stomach can and stare at him steadily. “My desire for revenge is equal to yours. They took your life and fucked up mine.”

He walks behind me and lifts my t-shirt a second time. “You’ve still got their mark on your back.”

I huff. “For six weeks I was laid up. I just haven’t had a chance to get it done.”

As he comes back around in front of me, I notice he looks undecided.

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