Page 4 of Devil's Due: Sarge

I feel Sidney tense behind me. We’re surrounded by FBI to the front of us and the Atlantic Ocean to the back of us. Sidney grabs a fistful of my hair and leaps off of the dock, swear to God, landing on the jet ski with me. He shoves me in front, gun still at my head, and screams, “Drive!”

I’ve never driven a jet ski before, but I damn well muddle my way through it. Shifting into drive, I take off like a bat out of hell. He has me make a wide arc, ending up farther away from the dock and closer to the parking lot.

“How did you get here?” he barks at me.

“Car – I drove my car.”

“Is it close?”

“Yes, it’s in the parking lot.”

“Head that way.” He orders it, I do it, heading for the beach area, where we can make land on the opposite side of the parking lot. It’ll be easier for us to blend in here. He has the gun pushed into my back with me walking close so that no one sees it.

“There.” I point to my little red coupe.

“You better not be lying to me.”

“Why would I lie to you? You’ve got a gun to my back. I would like to survive this.”

“How did they know we were there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Drew was feeling the heat. He texted me this morning and said I needed to join him. So maybe he had a feeling something was up. You’ll have to take it up with him.” I’m impressed with how easily the lie rolls off my tongue. I abhor lying, but I abhor dying at the point of a bullet even more.

As we approach my car, I reach into my pocket, pull out my keys, and hit the unlock button on the key fob. Sidney places the large artist bag in the back seat first, then orders me to get in the driver’s seat. I do as directed. But something tells me that if I let him get in the car with me, I’m a dead woman. Maybe because he doesn’t appear to trust me, or maybe as retribution for my stepfather—either way, potentially my life is about to end. I don’t much agree with that ending. Surprising him, I whip out my pepper spray hooked to my key ring and get him directly in the eyes, shove my key in the ignition, and slam on the accelerator, speeding off before my door is even shut. The momentum of the forward force closes it for me. I’m lucky to not run over Sydney as I speed out of there.

I can’t go home, that’s for certain, and hell if I’ll contact the FBI after the way they set me up. All because they aren’t good enough at their job to catch Drew and Patrick on their own. Either of those options will only serve to put my mother at risk. She might already be at risk. I make up my mind while speeding toward the Interstate. I need to empty out my bank account. I have to ditch my car. Then it’s California or bust.

Sarge

A few weeks ago…

Asmall flock of blackbirds takes off from the treetops as I’m outside working on my bike, causing quite a ruckus. Squawking and flapping their wings. I look up watching them disappear into the sky. It doesn’t take long with the bright sun bearing down on me.

The smell of motor oil filling my nose tinted with metallic tools always puts me at ease. I’d go off riding if I could, to clear my head. But the thing I have to clear my head about is the reason I can’t go off riding. Taking back the Horde from Rage and his cronies has been one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in my life. When I was going into countries like Afghanistan, it was complicated, we were on special missions to take people out, to rescue others, but we were at war, and at least I knew who the enemy was supposed to be. Here, we’re all Horde. These men took the same oath as me. We’re supposed to be brothers, and yet we’re so far from it, this family’s not just dysfunctional, it’s straight-up broken.

My phone rings from my back pocket, but my hands are covered with grease. I look around for a rag to wipe my hands off and can’t find one. Somehow the one I thought I brought over to my workstation grew a pair of legs and walked away.

I end up wiping smears of grime down the front of my T-shirt then pull out my phone to answer it. It’s Vlad, so I’m glad I answer it. Because he’s not only my best friend, but he’s also the new president of the reorganized Bedlam Horde. He’s got shit going on with a woman named Nicola, who, from all accounts—all by Vlad, by the way—is the finest piece of ass in the state of Kentucky. And by my account of the situation, if he’s not stupid enough to fuck it up, she could be really good for him. She’s found herself in some trouble not of her own making. That, compounded with Rage and the boys getting nastier, whatever he needs from me, I have my brother’s back.

“Talk to me, brother,” I say as myhello.

“I need you to come down to the hospital,” he says back without pretense.

That raises my hackles. “Hospital? You okay?”

“Yeah… Yeah. It’s not me, or Nic. The chick that Nicola’s been traveling with is sick, real sick. Her name’s Greer, and Nic won’t leave her alone, but I need to get her hidden again.”

“I’ve got grease stains down the front of me, but as soon as I change, I’ll be right there. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks, brother. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me shit. Be there soon as I can.” Without another word, I hang up and jog inside to change.

Now that my bike is back up and running in tiptop condition, I take off for the hospital. It takes me about twenty-five minutes to get there. The rumble from a Harley engine always causes heads to turn. And when they see the Horde cut, they scatter. The people of Bentley don’t know not to be scared yet. We haven’t had the chance to establish ourselves as a new club, more like our friends the Brimstone Lords out of Thornbriar, who used to be our enemies. They look out for their own and don’t always stay on the right side of the law, but when they don’t, it’s strictly to help people, not help themselves.

That’s why Vlad and I along with our other lieutenants took back the club. Because Rage, the former president, was only out for what he could gain, the rest of us, the town of Bentley, any people we might care about be damned. I’m not down with that and clearly neither were Vlad, Roughneck, Cutter, Dark, or Reaper.

The people will learn. So long as they don’t go against us while we’re trying to help, they’ve got nothing to be afraid of.

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