Devil on Your Back (19 page)

I let him go, flinging him back so he tumbles into the seat. “Sit the fuck down, and do as you’re told for once.”

He chuckles, low and taunting. “
Now
you’re the father you should have been back then.”

Bracing my hands on the arms of the chair, I lean into his space. “Better late than never.”

JANE AND
I stand just inside the room, watching with horror as our men growl at each other like two hungry bears. I make a move to intervene and her hand finds mine, tugging me back into the hallway.

She leads me down to the spare room I’ll be sharing with Vince, and gently shuts the door.

“I should get him to back off,” I explain, gesturing toward the living room.

She shakes her head. “No, trust me, he needs this.”

I pull back and raise an eyebrow.

“He’s so convinced that he has to fix everything,” Jane says. “I’ve tried telling him to let it go, that he can get out of this life if he looks hard enough for the right door.”

“Does he want to, though?” I ask, settling on the side of the bed.

She nods. “He does. He’s just too stubborn to do anything about it.”

“Sounds familiar,” I muse.

“Trust me,” she reiterates, “Malice needs this.” Jane takes up position beside me on the edge of the bed, leaning on the heels of her hands.

I sigh, and tuck my legs up on the bed. “I want to say this will end well, but I worry, Jane.”

“I do too.”

We sit in silence for a while, each staring blankly at the opposite wall. I turn my head and look her over. She’s such a genuinely sweet young thing, and it cuts me up to see her in this kind of a mess.

“It’s not an easy life to lead, living on the wrong side of the law,” I tell her. “Are you sure it’s for you?”

She nods, and smiles. “I love him, and I wouldn’t walk away from that because of something that’ll pass.”

“It’s the harm that the passing storm causes,” I say. “When the adrenalin wears off, you have to ask yourself what exactly it is you’ll be left thinking when there’s only silence and your overworked brain trying to make sense of it all. Will you regret what you’ve done, or accept that you had no other choice?” I twist my body towards her, and go to reach out. She stiffens, so I decide to keep my hands in my lap. “People
will
get hurt doing this, Jane.”

“I know,” she says devoid of emotion. “And people will more than likely die.”

A cool chill runs the length of my back. She’s so . . . indifferent to the idea.

“Can you live with that?” I ask.

She turns to look at me, and I pale under her calm demeanor. “Can you?”

What the hell happened to this woman?

“It looks to me,” she says, “that you’re the one who’s worried about this the most.”

I look to my hands, and pick at a rough patch of skin on the side of my index finger. “I lost someone pretty important to me once. I don’t think I’d endure it again.”

She sighs and gently stops my self-mutilation, taking my hand in hers. “Sonya, I’ve only just met you so I can’t tell you what you’ll be able to handle if things do go badly . . .
if
. But take it from me, when you find something good just take it as it comes. The alternative isn’t something you want to settle for.”

I nod, and pull her into a hug. She startles at first, but ends up clinching just as tight. “You’ll be okay,” she offers.

I pull free and duck my chin, surprised that this woman, twenty years my junior, has the answers.
There goes the theory on gaining knowledge with age
. Jane is walking, breathing, living proof that experience can be the maker of a person. If only I knew what her experience was . . .

“Should we go check on them?” she asks. “Maybe get them to quit arguing long enough to go to bed?” She beams an amused smile, so contradictory to her earlier detachment.

I smirk, and nod. “Sure thing.”

• • • • •

AN HOUR
or so later, Jane and I have the boys at a ceasefire for the night, and I’m wrapped up in Vince in the spare bed. I run my fingers over the lines of his chest and listen to him breathe. He dozed off within seconds, more than likely exhausted still from the lack of sleep he had at the start of the week.

I’m content though, happily thinking our position over as I watch him slumber. He twitches, and I hesitate, watching his face carefully as his lips move, and his eyes flick from side to side under his lids. Within a minute he’s back to gently snoring, and I return to tracing the lines of his muscles.

I phoned Ramona after I spoke with Jane, but got no answer. To be doubly sure, I rang King, and he confirmed she’s probably not answering as she’d left early with Callum, keen to do most of the driving while Mack sleeps. I sent her a text asking her to message me when they stop for a break, just so I know she’s okay.

The girl’s had enough trouble from that psychotic asshole, Sawyer, to last a lifetime. She deserves nothing more than an easy ride from here on in. But does anyone ever get it easy? I frown, frustrated that there’s still so much shit yet to go down, and angered that we’re here fighting this battle all because of one fuck-up by Alice’s friend. But who should I really be angry at: Tigger for reneging on the job, Carlos for being such a cold-blooded killer and hunting the rest of them, Alice for being involved in such a stupid lifestyle, or Sawyer for getting involved in something that’s none of his business? Perhaps Vince for leaving his boy to go it alone and live this life to begin with?

Where does the trouble even start? How far back do I need to go? Most importantly, though, where does it end?

Unable to sleep, I slip out of bed and tug a sweatshirt on over my sleepwear. The house is quiet as I pad down the hallway to the living room, and through to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. I stand at the counter and sip the drink, recounting my last conversation with Bruiser. How did I not see the desperation in his words? How could I miss that?

Urgent barking startles me from my thoughts. With the glass poised mid-way to my mouth, I listen. Maybe the dog’s simply barking at a toad? Found a cat that’s wandered too far through the neighborhood?

The barking picks up pace right as Jane comes down the hallway. Obviously her dog isn’t one to make noise at nothing, given the look of concern on her face.

“Everything okay?” I ask, crossing the living room to where she’s tugging boots on in the doorway of the mudroom.

“Rocco’s probably barking at his own shadow.” She laughs, but it’s a hollow sound. “I’ll go check anyway.”

She disappears out the back door and I stand for a moment, watching her moonlit form descend the stairs and head left. The chill from the air blast that came in when she exited wraps itself around me, and I rub at my arms, contemplating going back to bed for another attempt at sleep.

The barking stops and I sigh, relieved that it must have been nothing after all—an easy fix.

No sooner than I turn my back to head for bed, the barking restarts, loud and anxious. My heart-rate triples, and my skin prickles. It’s been years since I’ve had a dog, but that kind of urgent bark never leaves your memory.

“Jane?” Alice calls sleepily from down the hall.

My feet are in motion, and the night air smacks me squarely when I pull the back door wide. The barking is so much louder the minute I step outside, and my panic only sets in harder as I leap off the porch, bypassing all four steps.

The wet grass squelches under my feet as I land. I head for the noise, legs pushing hard against the spongy ground to get any speed I can.

“Let go!” I hear Jane yell.

A tall form has his hands on her waist, trying to haul her backward as she reaches for Rocco, tied to the fence by a rope. Jane’s kicking as I slip and slide to a stop behind the attacker, my feet digging trenches in the muddy ground.

“Hey!” I cry out, trying to capture his attention.

He spins, a hood pulled over his head obscuring part of his face, but I’d know that menacing smile anywhere.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Sawyer?”

“Hey, Sonya. I could ask the same,” he replies calmly.

“This is the fucking maniac?” Jane cries, fumbling with the crude knot restricting Rocco.

“Unfortunately,” I reply.

My head whips back, and I reel at the impact of his hand.
Bastard
. Jane cries out, leaving Rocco and going for Sawyer as I shake my head clear. The skin sears where the back of his hand struck me, but I use the pain to fuel my spite. I reach out for his face, ready to thumb his eye and force him off Jane when I hear the cavalry arrive.

“Hey, asshole,” Alice growls behind me. “Hands off my woman.”

I spin and lunge, placing my palms on Alice’s chest, stopping him in his tracks before he catches a glimpse of Sawyer’s face. Thankfully, between the hood and the shadows, it’s hard for Alice to see from this distance. Last thing we need is Vince’s boy going off like a fire-cracker at the wrong moment. Sawyer is unstable, crazy, a danger if he’s not handled right. I should know; I’ve been around the kid since he was still a boy playing with Tonka trucks in the clubhouse yard.

Jane is fighting Sawyer, clawing at the arm wrapped around her chest. “Leave her alone,” I call over my shoulder, still battling Alice. He pushes against me, my feet sliding in the mud.

Sawyer shoves Jane on her ass, and steps back into the light. “Sure thing, Sonya. The main course just showed up anyway.” The reaction written across Alice’s face can only be described as savage.

This isn’t going to end well . . .

I catch Vince approaching from the front of the house in my peripheral. It takes everything in me not to give it away, to keep my expression neutral and my eyes trained on Sawyer as he advances on Alice.

I stay between the boys, and place a hand on Sawyer’s stomach, urging him back. “What are you trying to achieve here, Sawyer?”

He shrugs. “Other than proving I’m not as hopeless as Dad thinks, I hadn’t really thought more on it.”

“These are people’s lives you’re playing with, honey. Think about that.”

His eyes drop to mine, and I shiver at the vacancy. He simply doesn’t get it. The kid is crazy, and you can’t reason with crazy.

“Can you move please, Sonya?” he asks as sweetly as the kid who would beg for me to make more brownies.

“I don’t want you doing this,” I urge.

“Out of the way,” Alice grumbles. “Let us figure this out, Sonya.”

“No!” I turn my head to address Alice, and it’s my downfall. Sawyer shoves me over while I’m distracted, and steps over my sprawled body to get to Alice.

He gets the first hit in, and the solid sound of flesh on flesh echoes between the house and garage as Alice staggers back. His bare foot slips in the mud as he tries to get his bearings, and the ground squelches under his weight when he lands flat on his back. Sawyer still advances for more. I lie on the ground, frozen in shock when Vince leaps over me, heading for the brawl. My breath hitches in my throat, the blade of a knife in Sawyer’s hand catching the light. He kneels over Alice to finish him, only to have Vince rip him violently off.

Jane is screaming at the men to stop as Alice finds his feet. My eyes are glued to the carnage, my heart painfully thumping into my ribcage as I watch Vince wrestle Sawyer for the knife. The tip of the blade nicks his arm, and the anger in Vince’s eyes grounds me firmly where I am. He roars out, and gives Sawyer a smack to the head so severe I swear his neck damn near doubles flush onto his back. The kid expels all breath with a loud ‘oomph’, and promptly goes limp.

“Fuckin’ troublemaker,” Vince growls, dropping him onto the ground.

Alice is on his feet and lunging for the unconscious Sawyer, but Vince catches him mid-flight, hauling him off the ground, Alice’s legs still moving and his arms still clawing for Sawyers body. Adrenalin still pumping through my veins, I sit up and stifle a nervous laugh at the sight of Alice, a man who’s not small by any means, being restrained by his father like a child mid-tantrum.

Jane rushes over to Sawyer and snatches the knife from his reach. She hesitates, and places a palm on his chest to check his breathing. “He’s out cold, all right. What are you going to do with him now?”

“Got a cupboard to lock him in?” I joke, although, for the most part I’m deadly serious. My natural high from the adrenalin is starting to wear off, and it’s either laugh about it, or cry about it.

I’d rather go with the humor after a night like this.

Vince sets Alice down, and looks over to where I am. “Let me look at you.” He’s on his knees before me, fingers on my chin, tipping my head towards the light that spills from the back of the house. It won’t be enough for him to see the welt smarting on my face, so I fib my way out of it. “Fine. Barely felt it.”