Beautiful Storm (39 page)

Backlit, a looming figure enters the room. Zander, Glock in one hand, rope in the other.

“Where’s Lizzie?” The question spills from my lips before I have time to think.

Zan laughs, but it has no humour. “She’s safe.”

“Theodore too busy to deal with his dirty work?” I can’t bring myself to call him ‘Bear.’ Rubbing my fingers on my forehead, I try to relieve some tension, but it has no effect. Until she’s out of here, nothing will ease it.

He walks further in, crouches down in front of me, and tosses the gun between his hands. To my surprise he flicks on the safety and places it on the floor, followed by the rope. “Bear’s busy.”

My gaze goes straight to the weapon on the floor and back to Zander. “Have you been with her since she left?”

“We haven’t got time for this, but yes, I have. I can’t tell you why or how.” His lips widen into a broad grin. “And I know you’re thinking of picking up the gun and killing me.”

“You know me well.”

“No, Noah. I don’t think I know you at all. But what I do know is you are going to let me tie your hands behind your back and then you’re going to let me take you out into the arena.”

I eye the gun again. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because, for all you said out there, I know the woman locked up in the dorms means everything to you. You won’t leave here until every last one of the guys who hurt her is dead.” He rubs his hands down his thighs. “I also know you won’t be able to help her from in here.”

I meet his gaze. There’s no point pretending he’s wrong. “I thought you said you didn’t know me?”

“I haven’t seen you in a long time, Noah. The man you are now isn’t the one I last drank with.” He stands up, leaving the items on the ground. “So you have a choice to make. What’s it going to be?”

Again, my mind processes my chances of success. Taking Zander down now would seem like the best option, or is it?

I rub my hands down my face, caked-on dried blood under my fingernails. The reminder of the betrayal from my friend, which stings more than I thought possible. He checks his watch. “You’ve got about thirty seconds left to make your choice.”

My mind made up, I get to my feet, turn around, and put my hands behind my back. He makes quick work of binding me. The knot is tight as I tug against it, but it’s not unworkable.

“I think you dropped this.” He picks up the weapon, pulls the magazine, checks the rounds, and then shows it to me. “Seventeen rounds, Noah, that’s all. Make them count.” Then like Jase, he pushes the gun into the back of my jeans.

“Tell me what the fuck’s going on.”

“No.”

I can’t fucking stand not knowing who’s on whose side. When I think I have it figured out, it gets all screwed up again.

He leads me from the dead room through the maze of the slaughterhouse and back out into the arena. My steps falter when I see Lizzie once again, bound, gagged, and blindfolded in a chair. Zander leads me to a seat opposite her and forces me to sit.

Lizzie’s lips tremble around the fabric strung across her mouth, her body visibly shakes, but she doesn’t make a sound. I try to figure out if that’s a good thing or a bad one. The helplessness which overruns me almost makes me give up hope. But there is no chance I can leave her here. Zander tenses in my peripheral and it pulls my gaze from Lizzie. I need to get my brain in the game, because while I was distracted, the room has filled with men.

Have they touched her? My gaze falls back on Lizzie; her chest heaves and falls, each breath laboured and shallow. Lowering my head, I close my eyes and let the fire return. Allow it to burn me up inside. When the inferno is fierce deep inside me, I roll my neck. Keeping my head down, I reopen my eyes. The first person my gaze lands on is Archie. Nothing but pure hatred fills my blood.

With him are four men I have never seen before. Accompanying them are the two from earlier and Bear’s team, including the bastard himself. Fourteen men. I size each of them up while they take their places around the arena. All of them except Zander stay in front of me. Archie’s obviously rattled if he needs fourteen fucking men for me and my girl.

I eyeball Archie as he drags over another chair. He flips it around and sits with arms folded over the backrest. “You had a good sleep, son?”

Discreetly, I fumble with the binds on my wrists, each pull and twist having the desired effect of loosening the rope. “I’m not
your
son. Just cut to the fucking chase. What do you want from me?” As I speak, Lizzie’s head lifts a fraction. All I’ve said to her and my voice still gives her… hope? I’m not sure.

“Well, Alberto wanted a little revenge for the son you took from him.” As Archie speaks, Bear moves closer to him. Adrenaline pumps through my muscles at his proximity. “I was happy to hand you over once I located you. But when I found out who you were, my plans changed.”

“Lucky fucking me.”

“Oh, you are lucky, Noah. You see, when you were just meat, you were expendable. Being my son changed things.” Bitterness rises in my throat as I stare the bastard down, but I say nothing.

My wrists break free of the binds and I sense Zan move closer in behind me. I take a breath and hold it a fraction, waiting, but he does nothing. Bear glances over and a look of recognition passes over his face as he meets his cousin’s eye. Again I’m left wondering.

Archie bends forward so I can smell his stale breath. “You were the best in the squad, Noah. Why did you get caught?”

My gaze flicks to Lizzie. A response I can’t help. I take a breath and realise I have nothing to lose. Bear knows everything, so the chances are every man here does too. The only person who I know for sure doesn’t is her.

“I didn’t think I had anything left to live for.”

“What could make a man have nothing left to live for? Especially one like you. The only thing that can do that is if you lost everything, but you had nothing in the first place.” Archie gets up and crouches to the side of Lizzie. He touches her face with his thick fingers, and she flinches, a small whimper escaping her lips. “Or did you?” It takes a strength I didn’t know I had to remain in my seat.

“I lost everything I ever wanted. Or rather it was taken from me.”

“So you chose to be tortured to death?” He sounds surprised.

I heave a sigh. “Yeah.” This is worse than the fucking debrief. All my demons lay bare.

He stands up, moving away from Lizzie, and my chest releases a fraction. “Hmm. Barry, Daniel, untie the bitch for me.”

They move quickly, untying Lizzie. What should be something to celebrate causes nothing but further concern. The last item to come off is the blindfold. Her wild gaze flickers around the room until it finds mine, and the storm in her eyes settles. She holds my stare as if it’s my hands. Never letting go for a second. If this is all I can give her, she’s having it. All pretence is gone.

“So, let me get this straight. Because of this bitch screwing you over, you decided to commit suicide?”

Lizzie’s questioning gaze never leaves mine. It takes massive effort to maintain eye contact with her and not look away. I don’t want her to see into my soul and witness the pain buried there. “For fuck’s sake, where is this going?”

“I’m getting there. So, she means more to you than just shooting your load into her?”

I refrain from answering him. Lizzie breaks her hold on me and glances to the floor. She’s either disgusted with me or angry; I’m not sure which.

“Okay, so now we have a plan.” He claps his hands together and begins to whistle. I ease the gun from the back of my jeans and rest it on the seat behind me.

“I’ll release her on this condition. I need to hand you over to Alberto. But, then you need to take him down.”

“Why?” It’s the only answer I want. Why would he go to all the trouble of bringing me back in, using Lizzie as bait? Why would Bear turn his back on years of brotherhood to betray me?

“Because when you’ve killed him I’m going to take over his empire. I’ve been using the Dogs to run most of his rings anyway, so this just means I’ll get to reap all the proceeds instead of just being fed peanuts.”

“What if I die? Then you’d get nothing.”

“But you won’t, will you? Because if you do, I’ll take your little family and I’ll make them suffer painfully, and very slowly, for your incompetence.”

Blood boils under my skin. I grip the gun behind me, lunge forward, and draw my weapon, but Lizzie’s on her feet and in my line of fucking fire. She grasps her chair and swings it full force into Archie’s head. The impact knocks him off his chair. Men surge forward. Shots ring out. Years of ingrained training takes over. I home in on the first shooter on an elevated walkway and take him down, firing three shots.

“Get fucking down,” I yell, and hope she hears me. Gunfire surrounds us. Quickly chambering my weapon, I take down a second bastard, his sight set on Lizzie. Moving towards her, I catch a glimpse of Bear as he disposes another of the men.

Everything stops. Time. Sound. Heat.

Lizzie stands motionless in the middle of the massacre. Fire burns across my thigh as I grasp hold of her arm and turn her to me. A slight smile forms on her lips but the fight fades from her eyes. Zan yells, “Get her the fuck out of here,” but my feet won’t move. All I can see is the red, sticky fluid, which oozes through my fingers and over the back of my hand.

L
IZZIE’S LEGS GIVE
way, and she falls into my arms. I’m helpless. All around men fight and fall, gunshots ring out, voices, then silence, and more gunfire. It all happens so quickly, in seconds, which seem like hours. I’ve been in worse situations than this and never faltered. But with her dead weight in my arms, I’m at a loss.

A sharp heat across my arm wakes me from my daze. We’re in the middle of a war zone, and I’ve got us standing like a fucking ‘aim here’ beacon. I lay Lizzie gently to the ground, put down my weapon, and rip off my shirt to use as a makeshift tourniquet. I pray the excessive blood doesn’t mean her artery’s been nicked. She could bleed to death in minutes, and as much as I need to get her out of here, this wound needs dealing with now.

One hand works fast to stem the blood flow pressing up under her armpit, the other pushes down firmly on her skin, and blood oozes between my fingers. From what little experience I have of field wounds, her bone doesn’t feel broken, and it all looks normal, with no disfigurement. It could still be fractured, but I don’t have the time or anything to splint it. I rip my T-shirt with my teeth, thankful for the old material giving way easily. I hope it doesn't do more damage. One-handed, I wrap the fabric twice around her upper arm until it’s tight enough, and that stems the flow.

Muffled gunfire continues around us, drowned out by the roar of blood in my ears.

I remove the hand under her arm and tighten the fabric a fraction more before securing it with a knot. Her arm should be elevated above her heart, but other than resting it on her chest I can’t do much else. Satisfied, I begin to lift her into my arms, but something drags hard on my ankle.

I turn my head to see a half-conscious Archie. Blood spews from a wound on his forehead. He flails an arm, searching the ground for his gun. I let go of Lizzie, pick up my own, and chamber a round. My ankle twists in his grasp when I turn around and aim the Glock.

Sperm donor or not, the creature at my feet will not survive to hurt my family more.

He lets go of my leg when his hand grasps his own metal. He cocks and glances back at me, blood dripping into the wicked smile on his face. It fades as he stares down the barrel of the gun in my hands and up my extended arms. “You’re going to shoot me?” He starts to laugh, a mocking laugh of disbelief; harsh, cold, and full of hatred.

In slow motion, he swings his arm up, gun in hand. Every inch it moves takes a century off of my life. I kick out my free leg and my foot connects, hard, with his face. The crunch of his nose breaking under my boot echoes up my leg and his head jerks backwards.

My fingertip caresses the trigger. Not too hard, not too light. I breathe in deep, and as the air exhales, I squeeze, taking up the pressure. Archie’s laugh dies on his lips when a bullet rips through his skull, and he falls dead at my feet. My index finger freezes mid pull. What the fuck?