Where Souls Spoil (98 page)

Dad raises an eyebrow, daring me to keep arguing. Honestly, I could argue with him for days. We’ve done it before, and I’m not afraid to do it again. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any point in it. He’s got himself convinced that our relationship is going to destroy both our lives, and I don’t think there’s anything I can do to change that. So instead, I let my frustration get the better of me—I throw my hands in the air and stomp away.

Jeremy follows after me and pulls me aside into Alex’s room. I only know it’s her room because while there are posters of naked women on the walls, there are also competing department store photographs of flowers, the beach, and even one 5x7 of Ryan and Alex together. I never wondered what Ryan’s decorating style was, but now that I know, I’m really grateful that tiny little crush I had on him years ago has since faded and that nothing ever came of it. I totally couldn’t live with waking up every day to a woman’s fake rack.

“This is so fucked up,” Jeremy says. He’s scrubs his face with his hands and groans. “Maybe he’s right. I’ve been spending so much time trying to keep your ass out of trouble that I haven’t even been worried about mine.”

I have to turn away from him to stop myself from totally breaking down. We’ve been engaged for, what, three days? And he’s already got cold feet and changed his mind. I was afraid of this, even if I never wanted to admit it. Something in the back of my mind told me that this is what boys do. They make commitments they can’t keep. They tell you they’ll be with you forever, when what they really mean is that they’ll be with you until it’s no longer convenient. Because that’s all this is with my dad—inconvenient.

“Are you serious? Are you really going to let one argument stop us from being together the way we want to be?” I think I already have my answer, but I’m not willing to accept it.

“You heard him,” he says. “When have you ever known Grady to threaten shit he doesn’t mean?”

“So this is it? Our relationship means so little to you that you can just throw us away at the first sign of trouble? Well, I guess it’s better to find this out now.”

“No, I’m not throwing us away. I’m fucking telling you that we’re rushing into shit.”

“So, what—you asked me to marry you and you didn’t mean it?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I fucking love you, but I don’t know how to do this and not fuck everything up at the club.”

And here it is, in terms so black-and-white that even I can’t pretend I don’t see it. He’s choosing the club over what we have. The pain from his rejection cuts me like a knife, slicing through my flesh as smooth as it would butter. I refuse to cry in front of him, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I just want him to know that I believe in us, and I’ll fight tooth and nail for there to be an us—always.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he closes in and reaches out for me.

I swat him away and beg for him to leave. Because if he stays, I’m going to cry. And today isn’t supposed to be a day of sorrow but a day of celebration.

Jeremy leaves. His absence practically suffocates me.

It doesn’t matter anymore. Because my father thinks I’m an idiot, my boyfriend doesn’t want to marry me, and every hope I had for my life has just shattered in a million little pieces. I would’ve thought something that hurts this bad would’ve come with a bigger hammer. But I guess not.

Minutes pass with me alone in Alex’s room, careful not to touch anything, just standing around and sniffling. I wish I had asked Jeremy for my car keys so I could go home, even if I know I’d get in trouble for being at the house by myself. I don’t really give a shit right now. All the men in my life are so keen on telling me what they think is best, but none of them are willing to listen to what I think is best for myself. So they can all go to hell.

“Cheyenne?” Alex says in a soft voice.

I spin around and stare at her sheepishly, then refocus my attention on her walls.

“I see you hired a professional decorator,” I say. I don’t know how to act with her, especially not right now. I formally met her once, but she’s my texting buddy, and I feel closer to her than I ever did to Tracie. And that’s saying something. She understands shit about my life that Tracie never could.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing I refused to pay him, right?” she says with a kind smile on her face. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I say sarcastically. “Jeremy just asked me to marry him a few days ago, and now, faced with Dad’s disapproval, he’s changed his mind. But I’m totally fine. Don’t worry about me,” I mutter, folding in on myself.

“Ouch,” she says, “but can I give you a piece of advice?”

No. I don’t want her advice. Alex has always encouraged me to go to school since I have the opportunity. She thinks I will regret not going, but she can’t possibly know that.

“Yeah,” I say. I want to refuse, but even I can’t figure out how to be that impolite.

“If Jeremy is willing to give up what you have so easily, then maybe that means he’s not ready for that kind of commitment just yet.”

“But I was ready,” I say. “Now I’m just pissed.”

“It’s just something to think about.”

It’s weird how we completely skipped the pleasantries and moved right into the deep stuff, but what’s even stranger is that it doesn’t feel weird at all.

“Well, I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?” Alex says hopefully. “I really want to hang out, but my mom needs one of my nonna’s recipes.”

“Oh, a recipe for what?” I ask. I’m being nosy, but I don’t know Aunt Ruby to have a mother in her life, so I can only assume this is her Italian grandmother we’re talking about. Alex has sent over enough yummy Italian dishes that I know damn well the girl can cook, so if Ruby is making Italiano, I want a piece of that.

She walks over to her dresser and reaches into the top drawer where she pulls out a small leather notebook. It has a multitude of old, yellowed papers stuffed inside. She flips through for a few pages before pulling a slip out and smiling at me. Her long brown hair cascades down her back, and her heart-shaped face almost glows. She seems truly happy, not just surface happy. I’m glad she has that, even if I kind of want to slap it off her right now.

“It’s the frosting recipe for Italian cream cake,” she says.

I’ve never eaten Italian cream cake, but it sounds delicious, so I nod my head enthusiastically and tell her to make sure I get a slice. She agrees and rushes off, yelling in the distance about finding the recipe and asking Ruby if they have all the ingredients.

Being in Alex’s room alone makes me feel awkward, but she said she would be back in a moment, so I don’t want to run out and miss the chance to hang out. In her absence, I pace awkwardly, unable to stay still. That fight with Jeremy is making me stupid needy, but I can’t seem to help myself. I crave having a friendship with someone who doesn’t have to “follow orders” all the damn time. Then again, I don’t really know anybody very well who isn’t under control of the club.

Muted voices bring my attention to the hallway. I try not to be nosy, but the masculine conversation draws me in. The men speak in hushed tones as if trying to hide, but they’re not doing a very good job at it. I can hear them really well the more I listen in and the closer I get to the open doorway.

“Got everybody up here,” the deeper voice says. “Fucking idiots don’t know it’s coming.” I hold my breath and give it a moment, trying to place the voice. When it comes to me, it’s like a freightliner crashing into my chest—Uncle Rig. I don’t know who he’s talking about, but something doesn’t sit right with me.

“Good. He know I’m coming?” the other voice asks. The slight Midwestern inflection of his voice tells me it’s Daniel. I close my eyes and pray that listening in on this conversation isn’t as bad as it feels.

“No, couldn’t get to him. Should only have one guard on Michael right now. Get in and get him out as quickly as you can.”

“Where am I taking him?” Daniel asks.

“Get him to the Italian. He should be nearby if not already there. Keep your cover as long as you can,” Rig says.

Get Michael? What the hell? Their heavy steps creep away from Alex’s room and toward the sliding glass door at the other end of the hall. I suck in a breath and place my forehead on the wall before me. It sounds like Uncle Rig and Daniel are thinking about busting Michael out of the Ian’s house. And even though I know that’s what I heard, I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it. That doesn’t make any sense at all. They’re Forsaken.

Still, I have to talk to somebody about it. Somebody I can trust.

I have to find Dad or Jeremy.

CHAPTER 24

April

12 months to Mancuso’s downfall

In the moments
that pass after hearing of Uncle Rig and Daniel’s betrayal, I find myself unable to breath. My lungs drained with the need for oxygen, but my body refuses to comply. My muscles grow tense, and it’s difficult to move the longer that my body fights its natural need to care for itself.

Once I’m sure they are long gone, I dart out of Alex’s room intent on finding anybody I think I can trust. That’s not a whole hell of a lot of people, to be honest, but if I can find Dad or Jeremy or maybe even Aunt Ruby, I might be able to stop the entire world from imploding.

Rushing out into the hallway, I practically slam right into Alex. She laughs with the surprise shriek and asks if I’m okay.

“Where’s your mom?” I ask, not taking a moment to be polite about it.

“Outside, I think,” she says.

I don’t bother to thank her. I just push past her and rush out the front door.

Just off the deck, surrounded by a couple of old ladies and Chel, Aunt Ruby stands with a beer in her hand and a casual smile on her face. I push off the side of the house and run to her, tugging on her arm the moment I reach her. She jerks back violently with wide eyes and an explosive fear plastered on her face.

“What the hell?”

“Need your help,” I say and tug her away from her conversation. With jerky movements, I survey my surroundings and make sure we’re alone once we reach the garage. The door’s open and nobody is in sight, so we should be safe. I hope.

“Problem,” I say. “I have to tell you something, and you’re probably going to think I’m crazy, but it’s super important that you know I’m telling you the truth.” It’s not just kind of a big deal to tell somebody that somebody is betraying the patch—it’s the kind of deal that wars start over and entire villages get slaughtered because of. Trusting Aunt Ruby with this should be considered a compliment, but I have a feeling she’s not going to consider it as such.

“If it’s important, just tell me,” she says softly. Aunt Ruby doesn’t do soft very often, but when she does, you know she means business.

“I overheard Uncle Rig and Daniel talking about getting Michael out of Ian’s house. They called the club a bunch of idiots, and they said something about working with ‘the Italian,’ ” I tell her in a rush.

Ruby appraises me. Everybody who knows me is well aware that I’m comfortable telling a little white lie, but I hope they all know I wouldn’t lie about something this serious.

“Baby, I’m sure you heard them wrong. I know that sounds scary, but the club probably has a reason for what they’re doing.”

“No,” I say, “I heard Uncle Rig call everybody a bunch of idiots. He’s betraying the club, like right the hell now, and I need you to help me get Dad down there to stop him.”

“Cheyenne, have you been drinking?”

“No! What the hell?”

She lets out of heavy sigh and nods her head. “Let me go find your uncle Jim, and you can tell him what you heard. That way we’re not interfering with club business. I just have to find them first.”

Every minute that passes is one minute closer to catastrophe where Rig and Daniel are betraying my family. I know Ruby wants to believe the best of Rig, but I’m not nuts and I’m not a liar.

“Never mind!” I shout. I don’t know what I expected from her, but it wasn’t that.

Now more desperate than anything, I scope out the backyard looking for somebody, anybody that I think will listen to me. Off by the red barn, Jeremy stands beside Rink and Dunce, who have a couple of joints they’re passing around a much larger crowd.

When I approach, Jeremy’s attention is completely on me. I take immediate advantage of that and say loudly, “I need your help. It’s important.”

“With what?” Jeremy snaps. His attitude fucking sucks, and if I didn’t need him so badly right now, I wouldn’t even deal with his shit. But I do. I have no idea where my dad is, and Aunt Ruby was really no help at all.

Walking up to him, I place my hand on his lower back, close to the handgun he keeps tucked there. “It’s important, and it’s private. Please stop being such a dick,” I say quietly. Okay, so that didn’t come out exactly as I had planned.

“Giving the boy his balls back?” Dunce says with a smirk.

I narrow my eyes at him and flip him the bird. He’s a fucking prospect, not a patched brother, and doesn’t have shit over me. Unfortunately, he keeps forgetting his rank.

“Check your attitude, Cheyenne,” he says in a dismissive tone. His eyes cut to the men around him like he’s looking for approval or something. “Need to learn your place, babe.”

Frustration builds, my hands shake at my sides, and I suck in an unsteady breath. Everybody’s being so freaking difficult about helping me, and it’s not something that I can shout out to the masses. Discretion, even with rowdy bikers, is important. I force my hands to steady and take a deep breath, telling myself all the while that I need to play nice.

“It’s about Michael,” I whisper-shout in Jeremy’s ear.

His eyes grow wide and he nods, immediately turning and pulling me aside, out of earshot of everybody else.

“What’s going on?”

“Rig and Daniel are about to take Michael from Ian’s and give him to Scavo,” I say in a frantic rush as low as I can.

“Rig?” Jeremy questions in disbelief. “He’s Detroit’s president.”

“I didn’t want to believe it either, but I know what I heard.”

“Fuck. There’s no way you could be wrong?” He kicks into the dirt below his feet.

“No,” I say firmly. I wouldn’t be here right now if there was a chance I was wrong.

Jeremy nods and pulls out his cell, dials my dad’s number, and brings it up to his ear, waiting for him to answer. He groans, his eyes darting from Ruby and Jim’s house to the tree line that hides Ian’s cabin. His eyes travel across the property, eventually landing on Rig, who stands with a beer to his lips, talking to Uncle Jim near the tiny pond adjacent to the barn.

By the third ring, Jeremy’s clearly lost his patience. With his eyes constantly darting to Rig and Jim, he takes off toward the trees, mindful of his speed. So far it seems as though Rig hasn’t seen us. His attention is elsewhere for the moment, and I can only hope it stays that way.

When Dad answers the phone, Jeremy says quickly, “They’re about to jailbreak Junior.” Pause. “Right now.” Another pause. “Chey overheard Rig and Daniel.” Then he’s off the phone and moving faster to the tree line.

I follow Jeremy, picking up my pace to catch up with him, but my movements are too slow—they catch Rig’s attention. He lowers the beer, gives Jim a nod, and turns his entire body toward me, walking away from their conversation. Rig pulls his phone from his pocket, types a short message, and then shoves it back in his pocket. He takes another drink from the bottle in his hand and then slowly walks back toward the house. Jim eyes him carefully before answering his phone. I can’t tell if he says anything or just listens for the few seconds he’s on the call. Then he hangs up and observes me and Jeremy as we nervously head for the trees.

Jeremy stops, but we’re moving so fast that I don’t notice until it’s too late and I’ve slammed into his back. His eyes are affixed in the direction of the house. He sucks in a breath and mutters, “Shit.”

I track his gaze to the line of men stalking toward us—all heaving muscles, grim expressions, and major firepower. Ryan, Ian, Diesel, Bear, Rink, Dad, Wyatt, Duke, and a few men I don’t know charge forward on Wyatt’s hand signal in the air. It almost looks like something out of a movie, all these dangerous men in full-on warrior mode. Jim stands in his same place he’s been in, his attention focused on Rig. He raises his arm in the air, two fingers above the rest, and he points to Rig, who is now almost past the house and heading for his bike. Duke and Ryan fall back and pause a moment before taking off after him, both have their guns raised and ready to shoot if necessary.

I know what I heard, and I know there’s no mistaking the betrayal. Rig—who I’ve called uncle my entire life—had the nerve to refer to my family as idiots. Anger wells in my heart, spreads through my veins, and ignites a fire in me that I doubt I can control.

“We got this. Stay here, babe,” Jeremy says, and he takes off at full speed, still several hundred yards in front of the angry line of men. I don’t even have my gun on me. It would be suicide to go after him and willingly throw myself into the mix with these men.

Idiots.

The mere reminder of the insult Rig so easily delivered about my family heats my body, propelling me forward. I take off running after Jeremy, through the yard toward the back of the property where Ian lives. Jim and Ruby’s property butts up to two separate roads, but it’s not easy to get to the back road from their house unless your vehicle has four-wheel drive. Ian’s house is more like a cabin, small in nature and made of a fine wood. It sits far enough back from the road and is shrouded in enough redwood trees that it would be hard for a stranger to even know it’s there. It makes an excellent safe house.

So I run, my legs straining and my lungs on fire. Jeremy stumbles up ahead and loses some of his lead. The ground here gets hilly and dips in places you can’t really see. There’s a way to run over it without losing any steam—a lesson I learned from my days under Ryan and Ian’s care—but without knowing to pick your feet up higher and jump from one hill to the next, you’ll risk twisting your ankle thanks to the unpredictable terrain.

I clear the hills in record time, leaving Jeremy in the distance, and dash into the trees without thinking to pause. The thick redwoods make seeing anything or anybody out here difficult at any distance. If I were trying to sneak up on someone, I would hide in the shadows and trunks of the trees, but I’m not.

I’m the distraction.

I just hope the distraction doesn’t get shot at in the process.

The cabin comes into view in the distance. A small lot has been cleared, giving the house maybe a twenty-foot clearance on all sides from the towering redwoods. The cabin sits up about five feet from the dampened earth with a large and inviting front porch and wide steps leading up to the mosaic-glass front door. The roots of the redwoods curve and snake through the dirt under the cabin, which is why it’s raised. These trees are epic in size and have been known to destroy strip malls with their roots sneaking up through the earth, showing us mere humans who’s the more powerful of the two.

I’m so focused on the roots under the cabin and checking their shadows for men who might be hiding that I don’t even see the fallen log before me until my shin’s gotten intimately acquainted with the damn thing. I fall forward into the mix of dirt and moss, the skin of my leg tearing as it drags against the dead tree bark. Instinctively, I cry out but don’t move. If I crawl forward, I’ll lose even more flesh. If I lift it, I’ll spare myself more pain, but it’ll be awkward at best, and I’m not certain I’ll be successful. Giving the lifting method my best shot, I bite down on my bottom lip and fight the pained cries that build in my chest. Pushing up from the earth, I’ve managed to get my good leg bent and prop up my knee in the damp soil when a large, flat, and hard object shoves me back down.

I twist my head just enough to see a man with olive skin, brown hair, and a black suit towering over me with a gold gun pointed at my head. With a sneer, he says, “Don’t fucking move.”

Leaves crunch, branches snap, and heavy breaths sound behind me. A gun cocks from somewhere at a close distance, the noise of the metal sliding somehow sounding so foreign out here surrounded by all this nature. This should be a peaceful place, not a place for war. Jeremy was right behind me. It has to be him. Sure enough, his voice warms my cooling body despite the anger laced within.