Sabotage: Beginnings (26 page)

Devin grinned and zipped the casino-issued windbreaker just beneath her chin. “Yes ma’am. Enjoy what’s left of the afternoon.”

Batya felt foolish to have allowed a young girl to surprise her like that. She put the weapon back on the plush stack of towels. She contemplated whether she’d grown soft since leaving the service of the Mossad. Motherhood definitely kept her on her toes, but that was a different skill set altogether.

“You okay?” Justice’s voice was anxious, but assured.

She saw his face even from across the pool and slumped back into the over-sized lounger. He cared for her like an angel.

She pressed a gentle finger against the concealed radio. “10-4. I’m making the call.”

Batya saw them. The three of them moved out from the elevator foyer into the shaded sun. Her eyes slipped away from Justice and held on the trio. Actually on one person in the group. Like a mountain, Justice never wavered as he stood watch.

The three entered the cabana. Batya’s lips quivered and her voice shook as she spoke in a quiet hush.

“Oh Grace, Mommy’s missed you, my love.” Her arms lunged out toward Karen.

Karen patted baby Grace and gently turned her to face momma. The soft baby face squinted then pulled into a tight draw before blistering crimson with a wail. Batya’s tears exploded.

“Too much estrogen. I’ll relieve Justice,” Sue said as he kissed his wife and marched across to where his brother had been waiting.

Batya bounced Grace in her arms as she begged to calm her. It had been months—it had been too long. She watched Justice circle away from the direction Sue took to avoid being in the same location in the event of an attack. It was a family reunion, but one under as guarded conditions as any classified mission either had performed.

“Daddy, Grace is a little upset. Maybe you can calm her.” Batya’s arms shook as Justice sat next to her and opened his giant fingers to cherish her. Batya was a natural nurturer, but she never engaged in the baby talk that so many new mothers do. She spoke to everyone, including Grace the same—like an adult.

“Hey baby girl. You missing daddy?” Justice’s voice pitched higher and his stone-carved expression melted with a sweetness she often saw when their family was together. It warmed her spirit to enjoy this connection that she’d never known from her own parents. They were like her—strict disciplinarians.

“It’s been four months. When are y’all coming home?” Karen asked.

“Had enough of babysitting?” Batya’s question was harsh, but it was said and couldn’t be retracted.

Karen shook her head in hurt and pressed both palms into the corners of her darkened almond eyes. She turned and stomped a high-heeled boot against the wooden deck, but Justice stretched out his arm and touched her on the elbow.

“Karen, please. It’s hard on everyone.”

Karen jerked away from his touch. “No shit.”

“Please Karen. For God’s sake, we missed her first birthday.” He dropped his mouth onto Grace’s head with those words. It looked like they hit him for the first time. Batya’s tears returned—no more defensiveness.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t understand what you two are up to.”

Karen was a beautiful woman. Typical of south Louisiana’s women, her hair was so black it shone blue. With olive skin, and dark Acadian-French features, the trim twenty-three year old looked much older at the moment. Stress had a way of doing that.

“Hasn’t Sue told you?” Justice asked.

“Not a damn thing. Said it was need to know only.” Karen folded her arms tight against her chest. “He never left the combat shit behind, you know. None of y’all have.” She flipped a ringed finger through the natural wave in her long hair.

“That’s why I asked Sue to help us. We knew you two could be trusted.” Justice brushed a hand against Karen’s triceps. She looked much more comfortable as she sank onto the padded pool chair.

Sue soon joined them but everyone kept a close perimeter watch. Justice leaned in and the other three followed suit. Batya swallowed hard because she knew what was about to be discussed. She hoped Karen would be strong enough to accept it.

“Our family is in a fight for life,” Justice said. His fingers wrapped around Batya’s hand that held Grace close. “Batya and I are eliminating those threats.” Justice winked, but Batya didn’t have the callousness to accept his detached capacity while she clung to their child.

“What’cha mean, like paying off credit cards or y’all in debt to the Dixie Mafia?” Karen spouted in a naïve volume that seemed to agitate everyone except Grace. She twisted and fussed for Karen.

Batya fought the hurt in her heart. “No, we are killing people before they kill us.”

Karen’s expression showed she understood. She didn’t agree, but she understood.

Grace made it too real—Batya had never operated with someone so innocent depending on her very survival. The ability to run without risk, of abandoning others, had allowed Batya to take chances in her career without the burden of other’s feelings or concerns. Now things had changed—she was fighting with a clear sense of the consequences of loss.

“What are you saying, Bro?” Sue seemed impatient. Batya recognized it as worry—they all were affected by it.

Justice slid his big, strong hand gently along Grace’s back and planted both hands on his solid legs. Batya noticed the worry he too had to deal with. The denim had stretched tight across his flexed thighs as he bounced on the balls of his feet. He also had a habit of sandpapering his thumb and index finger as a way to keep his mind in the here ad now.

“We have to kill a man. We want you to keep Grace until we return. If we don’t return, we want you to raise her as your own,” Justice said.

Batya blurted out through lips that quivered at the reality of Sue and Karen leaving with her baby, as they’d come. She understood their mission if they were to survive, but hearing Justice say it out loud caused her words to snag in her throat until she felt she would suffocate.

Sue pressed his hands onto Justice and Batya’s shoulders. “When do you leave?” His expression showed he knew the answer.

“Now,” Batya said.

Surprised by her own reply, the sharp snap was calm and all business. Her training had prepared her for one thing in this life. That one thing wasn’t killing for Israel—it was killing for her family.

“We’re here for you, and you know we love baby Grace,” Karen ran her hand over the baby’s soft dark brown down.

The gentle familiarity of Karen’s touch soothed Grace although it ran like a knife through Batya’s heart. But she wanted Grace to know love, and Karen loved her daughter like her own.

“You two know we’ll do anything for her. For you, too. Hell, every one of us brothers will help you. If you need us to come with you, we will. Hell, after combat, civilian life kinda sucks.” Sue tried to chuckle, but the tension was thick as cement.

“Thanks, Bro, but we’ve got another family on the job with us.”

“Yeah, I sort of heard something about a new brotherhood.” Sue groaned as he pulled the sleeve on Justice’s cotton shirt back to the elbow. “Nice ink. You know Vengeance has the exact same passion cross.”

Justice snorted as he tugged the sleeve back down and unfolded the cuff to his wrist. His eyes seldom stopped their scan, but he gazed at the tattoo, and seemed to want to separate that blood-oath family from his blood-born family.

“Does he know my association with the club?”

Sue ran his fingers across his wrinkled forehead and into his unkempt mane of jet-black hair. He blew out a gush of air and let out a low whistle. He nodded. “Yeah. You both got bull’s-eyes on your backs.”

Batya sat up tall and protective. “Justice?”

“Baby, you know not everyone is happy with what happened. I just hope Vengeance can keep his head cool and watch his ass.”

Sue’s gnarled arthritic fingers scratched deep into his straggled beard. He pursed his lips. “Damn, son, you’re the national president of the Savage Souls Outlaw Motorcycle Club. Fuck, I thought you joined them a-holes to fly under the radar.” Sue walked closer to Karen. “You’re public enemy
numero uno
.”

Justice stood. Batya heard his knees crack with the strain. “International president. International.”

Karen rolled her soft brown eyes up to Justice. “How’d that happen?”

“It was time to clean house, and I had the biggest, baddest broom in the closet.” He bent over in laughter and slapped his knee. The jolt caused Grace to lurch and then cry.

“Damn you, Justice Boudreaux. Look what you’ve done.”

Batya knew her words were harsh. They were a result of the reality of loss—it was time to depart. They had an escort of Hogs and trucks that waited to convoy back up the east coast.

“Can y’all give us a minute?” Justice asked.

Justice cradled Batya in his lap. Grace quieted and snuggled back into her breast. They sat without a word—only the gentle hum of both parents to their beloved daughter. Batya ignored the wind as it turned colder as the sun dipped below the horizon. In Justice’s arms she was protected—she was loved.

Justice kissed the back of her neck, then he leaned over to kiss the top of Grace’s sweet-smelling head. He rocked them both. He cleared his throat. Batya shuddered—he was going to say it was time to leave. Her chest clutched in anticipation of his words. She swallowed to clear the lump in her throat, but she was unable to produce more than a sound and a gentle wail.

Instead of time to leave, Justice lowered his already baritone voice, leaned even closer to them both, and sang happy birthday to their daughter. Batya’s tears fell freely as his words exposed the harsh realities of their earlier lives. Lurking in society’s shadow, doing the questionable bidding of unconscionable men had proven lucrative for both of them, but the high pay now came with a high price. She cried.

“…happy birthday to you,” Justice trailed off. Grace was back to sleep.

Batya turned to kiss him, “I love you, my husband.” She smiled through blushed cheeks and reddened eyes.

“I love you too, momma.” He squeezed his eyes shut—water pressed from beneath. She read the agony in his expression. “It’s best to go while she’s asleep.” He reached around and snugged Grace into his huge palm. Justice looked back to Karen and offered a crooked smile. Batya retched and fell to her knees as her sister-in-law took hold of her entire world.

“Go,” Justice whispered kindly, and dropped down off the chair to comfort his wife.

“You’re a good father, Justice. I’ve prayed to my God that if only one of us comes home, it be you. You need this chance to prove to yourself that you’re not the man your father was. Grace deserves to have you in her life.”

Justice gripped her clasped hands. He signaled for her to hush.

“Baby, stop that talk. You’re always playing the martyr. That girl is too much like her momma to ever be without her.” He laughed but they both felt the absence of humor—it was in desperation. Neither could imagine losing the other, or Grace.

“That is true, Justice. She’d wrap you around her pinky finger. You need my strength to resist.” Their eyes met. She threw her arms around his neck and drew him in. Batya pressed her mouth gently onto his until they kissed like they used to. Like two people who’d faced death, but chose to kill for life—their lives.

“We’ve got a chariot waiting for us,” Justice whispered.

Batya clung to him. She showed her teeth, but it wasn’t a smile. “Let’s go do this and get home quick.”

E
arly February was
brutally cold in the Washington, DC, area. The commute from downtown DC to Annapolis, Maryland was about fifty minutes to an hour. It was dark and the thirty-five mile route along Interstate US-50 was expected to meet minimal traffic. Justice Boudreaux knew this—he’d practiced the scenario until the timing was with split-second precision.

Justice tugged at Batya’s gloved hands and slipped them into his thick leather jacket pockets. He grimaced at her shivering against his back, He was concerned for her safety. The engine to his Harley Davidson’s Road King rumbled with the iconic pat-pat-pat putter of the Hog’s monster V-Twin. Any heat it put out did little to keep her warm. She’d not attended the practice runs with him and he knew she wasn’t prepared for the dangerous effects of extreme cold on motorcyclists.

He peeled down his heavy wool mouth cover. “Baby, you going to be okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little chilly, that’s all.”

Justice bobbed his head and glared in the rearview mirror. He brushed his hand below the metal rim and ice cracked. His eyes felt frosted. Once numb fingers squeezed the rubber goggles and lifted them onto his black matte helmet.

“This will be over quick. Just stay close and keep your right hand warm and loose.”

Batya ignored the frozen snot that dangled off the tip of her nose—it was time to focus no matter how adverse the conditions. She waved the packets of hand heaters Justice had stuffed in his zippered jacket.

“One step closer to freedom. I’m ready.” She grabbed him around the waist so tight he felt air expel and mist into a white froth.

Justice pulled the black wool facemask back in place. With a skull imprinted across the face, it was an intimidating look and the effect he wanted. The other seven Savage Souls brothers wore the same style mask. Justice ordered each to strip all patches, stickers and insignia. He’d run black ops for a living—this would be no different. He’d even gone so far to ensure that the other riders also had females on the rear saddle.