Severed Justice (Severed MC Book 3) (20 page)

We followed Justice all the way to the dirt road, but Cowboy refused to go down it.  He didn’t want Justice to spot us, or alert anyone to our presence with the noise from his bike.  He did however agree to head down there on foot.  I’m starting to think we’re lost when we finally find the cabin.  Cowboy puts his hand out to stop me, gesturing for me to stay behind him.  I’m about to comply when I hear a child’s cries.

“Elizabeth.” I whisper.  We look at each other, desperate to get her out of there. 

“We can’t go in there.” Cowboy tells me. “We’ve got to get some back up here first.” 

I shake my head vehemently.  We don’t know what’s happening in there. I didn’t like the sound of that cry.  Cowboy is busy on the phone and doesn’t notice me sneak closer to the cabin.

I hear a male voice shout out. “I told you to shut the fuck up!”

My breathing halts as I listen. The crying stops for a moment, before resuming in a louder wail.

“Mummy!” She sobs. That’s definitely Elizabeth. 

Everything seems to happen at once then.  There’s a huge thud, at the same time I hear Justice scream out “No!”

The sound of a gunshot makes me jump. I’m frozen with shock as the door flies open and a man rushes out, running for the darkness of the woods behind the cabin.

Cowboy’s already pursuing him, firing into the woods.  I hesitantly make my way over to the cabin door, not sure I want to see whatever’s awaiting me inside.

I step in and the first thing I notice is the darkness. I open the door wider to try and let some of the moonlight through. I can’t help the scream that falls from my mouth at the sight before me.  At one side of the room Elizabeth is lying against the wall, her neck at an impossible angle. Justice lays face down in a pool of blood, unmoving.  Who do I go to first?

“Don’t you dare fucking die on me!” I scream as I run further into the cabin.

I let his arms hold me tightly, watching the scene unfold in front of me. It doesn’t seem real. It’s as though I’m watching a movie in my front room.

But this is deathly real.

It’s a beautiful day as we stand in the Severed heat, but this isn’t a day for catching the sun’s rays. It’s a day filled with sadness. We’re remembering how precious a human life is. Every single one of us holds that gift within us, yet we take it for granted. The gift of living.

I stand amongst the crowd of family and friends, watching through my tears as the two coffins are walked out towards us. The men of Severed carry them with respect.

We’ve just come out of the church where the funeral was held. He’s had to help me walk to this spot; it’s only a short distance to where the coffins will be laid to rest. Without his help I couldn’t have made it. My legs threatening to give way. I look at the coffins, the bodies they contain now forever frozen in time. A sob escapes me, and he holds me tighter. I shiver in his arms despite the burning heat of the day.

“Hold on.” He whispers in my ear as we watch the two coffins being lowered into the ground.

One coffin is much smaller than the other. God, this is so fucking hard! I want to run away from here, but I can’t. I have to stay. I need to say goodbye.

I look around at the heartbroken club members and their families.

Teresa is cuddled into the safety of her old man’s arms, whilst she cradles her stomach. It feels even more cruel, the starting of a life after two others were so brutally taken from us.

I swallow my tears and look around, unable to watch the coffins being lowered in the dark, damp earth. My eyes land on Eve, she’s sitting on a chair that was provided for her, her legs no longer able to support her. She’s not crying anymore, I don’t think she has any tears left to shed. She looks numb as she watches everything happen in front of her. Angel stands beside her, one hand on her shoulder. I can’t see the expression on his face, but he’s been unhealthily quiet ever since the incident at the cabin. I guess he’s silently plotting his revenge.

Elle is sobbing in Ink’s embrace. I stare at him, watching stray tears run down his cheeks. Most of the men here are crying. Who can blame them.

This is a tragedy. A chain of events that culminated in two deaths. Two young lives ripped away from the people who loved them.

A scream sounds; I turn to see its Holly. She’s standing close by me. Her hands cover her mouth as she wails loudly, tears blurring her vision. Ice comes to her aid and holds her, but I don’t think she even notices as she continues to cry.

I risk a look in front of me to see why she’s suddenly crying so hard, and I wish I hadn’t. The coffins are almost fully lowered now. I hate watching this, but I can’t seem to pull my eyes away. I start to cry all over again, cruel flash backs of both deaths playing in my memory. Danni having her life ripped away beside me, and the other ended far too soon by an evil man. I was too late to prevent it. The guilt eats deep.

His arms hold me tighter, and I let the sadness take over. I come undone, joining everyone else as we let our tears fall.

“This is all my fault.” I hear Maggie sob.

She’s in Scalp’s arms. Her face red with pain, she continues to blame herself.  Jamie stands beside Scalp. His face frozen in place. I didn’t think he’d be here, but Maggie said he insisted on coming. He wanted to be here for his friend.

The strong man holding me shifts slightly, and I know it’s time. Cowboy holds me tighter, and I watch Elizabeth grab onto Angel’s hand. As the earth is thrown down on the coffins we say our final goodbyes to Danni and Justice. 

Divided in life, together in death.

It’s taken me three months, but I think I finally found what I’m looking for.  I let my gaze roam around the crowded, smoky bar room.  I smile in satisfaction when I see him propping up the far end of the bar.

Even from this distance I can tell that he’s drunk.  I hope he’s not too drunk though.  I want to make sure he knows exactly what’s happening to him. 

I approach the bar, head held high.  I’m wearing my favorite red dress, and fuck me red high heels.  I look damn good. I can tell from the glances I’m getting that I’m attractive to the men in here. My long blonde hair is cascading over my shoulders.  I toss it back, out of the way, just as I take the last empty seat at the bar.

“What’ll it be gorgeous?” The young bartender smiles at me. He’s interested, I can tell, but it’s not him that I’m here for tonight.  Tonight is about repayment of an old debt.

“Orange juice please.” I smile back at him.  It’s a plastic smile these days.  There’s no warmth in it anymore.  That died the day I held Justice’s dead body in my arms. When we all watched as Elizabeth fought to retain her hold on life.

It’s been a hard three months for everyone.  As much as Severed have tried to draw me in, to make me part of their family, I can’t.  I was never Justice’s old lady. Shit, we only had that one night together, and it’s not like he slept with me, he slept with a ghost.  I was just a vessel he fucked. Not that I regret it, I gave him a piece of happiness before he left me.

Elle surprised me. She’s the one who really pushed to keep me in their lives. From being the woman who hated me, she’s turned into my strongest supporter and ally.  She’s the one who helped me track him down.  She may have been a travel reporter, but she still has a kick ass investigative mind.  She’s helped me accomplish what the rest of the club couldn’t do.

Angel will be pissed I’ve kept this from him. Ted hurt Elizabeth, nearly ending her life, but he stole Justices life from me, and I need revenge.

From my perch on the bar, I watch him.  He’s really not much to look at.  He’s nothing, a no one. You’d pass him on the street and not give him a second glance. What the fuck did Holly ever see in him?

As I watch him my blood boils. It’s so unfair.  Here he is, alive and breathing, whilst Justice lies rotting in the ground.  The only emotion I’ve felt for the last three months surfaces.  It’s anger.  I’m angry at the life that was taken away. I’m angry at the nightmares that little three-year-old girl wakes screaming from most nights.  I’m angry for the little boy who almost lost his mother. I take a sip of my orange juice. But most of all, I’m angry for the child within me that will grow up never knowing it’s father.

I’m three months pregnant. We may only have had that one night together, but I have something permanent to remember it by.  I understand Rachel a little more now.  I can see how she could become obsessed with avenging the death of the man she loved.  The father of her child.  The difference between us though, is that I won’t hurt innocent bystanders in my quest for vengeance.

Taking another sip of my orange juice, I watch, and I wait.

***

I’ve turned down three offers of drinks and one proposal of marriage before he moves.  He’s a little unsteady on his feet, but all the better for me to convince him he bumped into me, and not the other way around.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” He mumbles as the orange juice spills down my dress.  Instead of following the trail of juice his eyes seem to be stuck on my breasts.  They do look good in this dress, especially with the bloom of pregnancy to enhance them.  Eventually his eyes move down my body, the gentle swell of pregnancy hidden by the cut of the dress, down past the almost obscenely short hem, tracing the contours of my legs, and landing on my heels.  He gulps when his eyes reach my heels.  They do seem to have that effect on men.  They’re the kind of heels men insist you keep on during sex.

I’m tempted to stab him in the eye with my heel right now, here in full view of everyone, but I calm myself.  That’s not how I’ve planned this evening.  I’ve waited three months. I can wait a little longer.

“Can I buy you another?” He gestures at my now empty glass.

“I think it’s the least you could do.” I smile fakely at him.

We head to the stool he just vacated at the bar. He’s such an ass he doesn’t offer it to me, taking it for himself instead.  The guy on the other side of me notices, and offers me his stool.  I accept it gratefully.  These heels are fucking killing my feet.

For the next hour I bite my tongue, and pretend that I find him interesting. I let him talk about himself, and he never once asks a question about me. Narcissist prick.  Nothing he says interests me, but I do a good job of convincing him otherwise.  The stupid fucker really does think he’s got a shot at getting me into bed.  I’m not sure what he thinks he’s going to do with me when he gets me there, as Holly told me exactly what Justice and Cowboy did to him.

He finally blurts it out. “I think it’s time to go back to my place for a nightcap.”  He’s so fucking confident he hasn’t asked me; he’s just assuming I’m going.

I nod my head in agreement, pulling on my long black coat, and sheathing my hands in my black leather kid gloves. 

He strides ahead of me as we leave the bar.  Was he always such a prick? I can’t think what Holly ever saw in him.  It’s only a few streets to his apartment.  It’s in a shady part of town; few streetlights guiding our way.  All the better, it means I don’t have to look at his face as we walk.

He fumbles in his coat pocket for the keys. He’s not drunk, but he’s not quite sober enough to be able to locate the keyhole.  I reach over and take them from his hand. “Allow me.”

The stench when the door falls open is almost overpowering.  His apartment is a shit hole.  He’s let himself go. From what Holly told me, he used to be so fastidious, almost to the point of being OCD about everything being in its place.

I make my way cautiously over the discarded pizza boxes and empty beer cans.  This is what Justice died for? So this piece of shit could live like this?

I watch him struggling to remove his jacket, and I take my opportunity. Coming up behind him, I place my hands on his, stopping him.

“Let me help.” I croon seductively.  In reality I want to vomit. 

His hands fall away, allowing me to start to remove the jacket.  I stop however when it’s half way down his arms, effectively trapping him.

Reaching into the deep pocket of my coat I withdraw the knife. 

Slowly, I reach my arm around his neck. The stupid fuck thinks I’m trying to seduce him.  This isn’t an embrace.

He stills though as I touch the knife against his throat.

“What the fuck?” He croaks.

“Recognize this?” I whisper in his ear.  “You should. It’s the same knife he used to cut your dick off with.” I breathe.  He shivers as the cold breath caresses his cheek.  He’s not moving.

“What? Who? Why? How?” He stammers the words out, unable to form the questions fully.

“Oh, you don’t know?” I giggle.  “Perhaps I’d better educate you then.” 

He pales as the knife bites a little deeper into his neck.

“What?  What’s going to happen to you is that you’re going to die this evening.” He whimpers.  “Shush.” I hush at him. “I’m talking now.”  I caress his neck with the blade of the knife, enjoying the look of terror in his eyes.

“Who? Well, I’m the woman who loved the man that you killed three months ago.” I calmly state.  That causes him to piss his pants. “For fuck’s sake, you’re not very original are you?” I mutter in disgust. The strong smell of urine making me even more nauseous.

“Why?” I continue. “Because you killed him, of course.” I release the knife from his throat slightly, allowing him a short, but false sense of security.

“How?” I continue. “Like this.” I slice back with the knife; one strong motion to the side and it’s done.  Exactly how Cowboy taught me. 

The coward sinks to his knees. I watch as the last of his lifeblood drains from his body.  It’s a fatal blow, exactly as I intended.

I stand before him, the knife pointing to the floor, dripping dark crimson blood on the filthy carpet.  My other hand cradling the rise of my pregnant belly.

“Justice is mine.”