Call Me...Vengeance: Book 1 in the Vengeance MC Series (29 page)

Avery came into my life just after I’d married Rosalie, at a time where I thought I had everything I’d ever wanted. I looked at Avery like the kid she was; inquisitive, high energy, brilliant, and with a smile at the ready for everyone who crossed her path. Avery didn’t play a big role in my life, but she was undoubtedly one of the best parts of it. She was just there, always, unassumingly so until I lost Rosalie. Her senseless death at the hands of, who I later found out was Hells Riders, erased the light from my world until Avery turned it back on.

Everything about Avery and what she became to me was pure and good. She radiated beauty and light. Blinded me with its brilliance until I couldn’t see anything but her. Avey was only fifteen when Rosalie was murdered. Too young for me to confide the depth of my anguish with. Far too young for me to depend on for the happiness only she brought me. But that didn’t mean I didn’t do just that because I did, all that and more.

Avey became my rock. My anchor. My beacon. She became my everything. And I’m not ashamed to say, I liked it like that. No, I fucking loved it. I loved her. I’ve known Avey for fourteen years, and during that time, I’ve learned everything there is to know about her. I might not have shared the same way in return, but she knows more about me than even my late wife did. A fact that bothered the shit out of me at first, but I came to terms with because Avey is different. She’s special.

Living without her is an impossible ask. I can’t and I won’t. Ten years ago, I lost the woman who I believed was the other half of my soul, but I was wrong. Rosalie might have held my heart in her hands for a time, but she didn’t take it with her when she died. She couldn’t. I didn’t know it then, but I know it now with a certainty that cripples me, Rosalie wasn’t the keeper of my heart because it was already reserved for someone else. A girl I had only just met, who grew into the woman who holds the power to crush or heal me.

My Avery.

I’ve never shared how I feel about her, not once have I given her the words she deserves, but she knows. Avery knows I love her. She has to. And if she doesn’t, I vow I’ll tell her she owns me, mind, body, and soul the second I lay eyes on her again. I just have to hope I get that chance. I have to pray that she’ll come back to me and want to hear what I have to tell her as much as I need to say it to her. Because if she doesn’t, I’m lost. There will be no picking up the pieces. No moving on. No life left for me to live. I’ll be an empty shell of a man merely existing until my time is up.

Six-Am. Seven hours later…

An hour ago I instructed my brothers to get some shut eye while Brookes worked the information Sly had given him. Shy, Vengeance’s club secretary found Jay an open room seeing as he had no intention of leaving before the women were found. Not that I blame him, I wouldn’t go if I was in his position either.

Sly emailed everything I had on Laura through six and a half hours ago, meaning we’re in a holding pattern until we get some clear intel on where that bitches head is at. Jump and Cash took off five hours ago, which would put them in Cheyenne at four, two hours ago. No one would be awake yet, making it the perfect time for them to search Laura’s place and see what they could turn up. As soon as the sun comes up, they’d be knocking on doors, calling her friends, and paying a visit to her job. I only fucking hope it turns up something. Anything at this stage would be a boon.

I laid down, hoping I could catch a reprieve from the agony I’ve felt since learning my woman is missing, but, no. The second my head hit my pillow the scent of Beth on my sheets assaulted me. Vanilla and cinnamon. Sweet and spicy. A combination that describes her perfectly. There was not a chance in hell I was going to be able to sleep because every time I close my eyes I can see the image of Beth in my mind. I can feel the way her hands moved over my skin. I remember every one of her curves that I’ve explored with my lips, teeth, tongue, and cock. The sound of her husky voice echoes inside my head just as I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. Like I said, sleep wasn’t an option.

Every one of my brothers has run the gamut of emotion hearing three women tied to the club have been taken from us. Disbelief, denial, anger, fear, and determination, we’ve felt them all. Some more intensely than others. Fury, Jay, and I were trapped between the fear of what was happening to the women we loved and our determination to bring them home.

With Fury close to losing his mind and going maverick, I pulled him aside as we were disbanding. I’d told everyone they had four hours to rest and regroup, knowing that any solid intel we’d have from Jump and Cash wouldn’t come until after business hours began.

Clapping a hand on his shoulder before he could stand, I motioned for him to sit. Church was the quietest it had been since I called it, only the two of us remained.

“Need to know where your head’s at, brother. More than that, I need to know you’re not going to go do anything fucking stupid that could put them and you in jeopardy.”

Clenching his jaw, Fury’s nostrils flare as he grapples with the rage I know he’s feeling. When he does speak, his voice comes out as rough as he looks.

“I might be fucking stupid when it comes to, Avey, but don’t mistake that for me being an ignorant man, brother.”

“Not saying that, Fury. Just need your word you’re not gonna take matters into your own hands. When we do this, when we get them back, and fucking hear me when I say we
will
get them back, we do it together.”

“You best hope Brookes get something and does it fast Boss because sitting around waiting isn’t my gig and you know it,” he spits.

Glaring at one of my best friends, I fight to rein in my own temper when I reply,

“You don’t have a choice. No one, and I mean no-fucking-one is setting foot outside our these gates until I’ve got solid intel on where they are. The rest, how many we’re dealing with when we get there, why they were taken, and what we’re walking into doesn’t matter, we’ll deal with that when the time comes. You’ve gotta see that going door-to-door is too risky, brother. Chances are, by the time you shake something loose Nix would have moved them; or best case scenario, he would’ve called for reinforcements. Not saying we aren’t in the prepared to take them down anyway because we’re more than equipped, but it’s far from fucking ideal to let Nix strengthen his position.”

Fury’s frame gives away his begrudging acceptance. He knows there is nothing he can do right now, and that’s killing him. His shoulders sag slightly, and his clenched jaw morphs into a frown.

“I know I’m not the only one feeling this deep, brother, you and Jay are sharing the boat with me, but I’m fucking drowning here,” he admits reluctantly. “We might not have had the smoothest road, but she means everything to me. My world isn’t worth living in if she’s not in it, brother, so whatever needs to be done to see that I get her back I’ll do. I won’t make you promises I can’t know if I can keep, but I’ll tell you this. I won’t do shit without telling you first. I won’t put any of those women in harm’s way more than they already are. And I won’t fucking quit until all of them are back where they belong. That work for you?”

“Yeah,” I rasp with a brief nod. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

Now for the hard shit. The topic me and my brothers haven’t been able to agree on.

“Gotta work out what to do about reaching out to, Saint and Cage. Sarge wasn’t wrong when he said, the man has the right to know his daughter’s missing, brother. That said, having Devil’s Spawn descend on us full-force, which is a fucking given, isn’t gonna help right now either. The last thing we need is to be managing that crazy motherfucker, Saint, so that leave me between a fucking rock and a hard place. Got any insight on how we’re gonna handle that?” I question seriously.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Fury snorts,

“No fucking clue, Boss. All I know is that I’m glad it isn’t me dialing him,” he offers unhelpfully. “Prepare, though, brother. Because when he does find out, our anger isn’t gonna hold a candle to his wrath.”

Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of. We’re dealing with enough wildcards at the moment that adding another one will most assuredly tip the balance, we’ve managed to maintain by the skin of our teeth, right over the edge making it a thing of the past. But that’s a risk we’re just going to have to take because I can’t keep this from Saint for much longer. I’ve already crossed the line by holding off, I’m only making it exponentially worse with every extra minute that passes.

Inclining my head, I wrap this up so we can get out of here.

“Right, Brookes has four hours to get us what we need before I make that call. Whether he does or he doesn’t, the clock expires and I bring the boys in.” Jerking my head in the direction of the door, I add, “Have a shower and get something to eat. Try and sleep if you can, I don’t give a fuck what you do because until I get word from Brookes, Jump, or Cash, there’s no sense in going over old ground.”

Fury doesn’t say a word as he rises from his chair and leaves the room. I don’t doubt that he’ll dissect everything he’s heard, letting it replay over and over in in his mind until he’s satisfied he hasn’t missed anything. How do I know this? Because I intend to do exactly the same thing.

Closing my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time in the last half hour, I roll to my side, holding the pillow Beth claimed as her own tight. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t considered every conceivable scenario, at least twice, as it relates to what she could be going through right now. I don’t want to think about the likelihood that she’s in pain, suffering, and terrified, but I am. And it’s eating away at me from the inside out.

The things Nix, and his merry band of fuckwad brothers are capable of bypass brutal, landing squarely in the gruesomely fucked up. Horrifyingly so. Hells Riders involvement in the disappearance, rape, and torture of those fourteen-fifteen-year-old girls is only the tip of the iceberg. The trafficking on underage girl’s north of the border doesn’t scratch the surface of the dealings his club has with the underbelly of the criminal world.

So, knowing that my woman is currently being held by them I can’t help but pray his stupidity doesn’t extend to laying a hand on a single hair on her head, but even I know that’s too much to hope for. The best outcome now is that Beth comes home to me whole. I can deal with damaged. I can learn to live and help her cope with whatever scars he inflicts on her soul. But what I can’t live with is her not finding her way back to me any way she has to.

I must have drifted off because the pounding on my door has my heavy, grit-filled eyes snapping open.

“Boss, you need to get out here. Got Brookes’ report, and this something you're gonna want to hear,” comes Sly’s muffled voice from the other side of my locked door.

Not bothering to answer, I slide my exhausted body to the edge of the bed and stand to test the ability of my limbs to hold me up. Sleep deprived, on edge, and frustrated, I slip my cut on seeing as I’d laid down fully dressed to save time. Throwing my door open, I stalk down the hall to church where I know Sly would have gathered everyone.

Taking my seat at the head of the table, I urge,

“You said you’ve got something to share.”

Sly produces a sparse file, flipping through the first few pages until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Brookes hit the fucking motherlode on his second search. Preliminary ones came up with dick, just the usual shit you’d expect from anyone who drives a car, leases a pad, and pays their taxes. Digging deeper into Laura’s financials shows several large cash deposits into her account of twenty grand, twice it was closer to thirty. Her cell came back with dozens of calls to an out of state number, dating as far back as two years ago. She hasn’t taken any trips out of Cheyenne. Or I should say, none where she’s traveled by train, bus, or plane. Car’s still an option, but word from Jump is it’s parked in her driveway every night by six without fail.”

“Okay, so we’ve got cash injections and confirmation she hasn’t left the state, but what else? None of that explains her involvement in this. There has to be something we’re missing,” Gage interjects.

“Oh, there was, but Brookes found the smoking gun before he could finish his secondary searches,” Sly grins. “The number Laura was calling daily like clockwork until she was holed up here was registered in Tennessee, to one Oliver Markham. Money originated from accounts in his name too.”

“What the fuck,” I roar.

“Hold up, Boss, there’s more,” he states calmly. “The bitch is seriously as dumb as a box of hammers because she didn’t ditch the phone. She’s been racking up calls on it the whole time she’s been here. Mightn’t have been every day, but she did check in with him regularly. Calls last anywhere from a minute and a half to five minutes, long enough for Brookes to trace the cell tower routing to the Denver area. Seems, Oliver hasn’t been in Tennessee for a while now. His employment records list him as a partner at his Dad’s firm in Knoxville, but he applied to the Colorado bar association for a license to practice here six months ago. Until that came through, he was based in Knoxville but flying into DIA at least twice a month for a few days at a time.”

Flicking to the next page, Sly pauses for a few seconds, eyes scanning the information in front of him before continuing.

“Markham signed a contract with Hells Riders, Nix being the primary contact that he emailed to his personal assistant, Marjorie Watts seven weeks ago. A shit load of green changed hands as a retainer to hire him on, and he’s been working on getting petty misdemeanors dropped for members ever since. Eighteen court appearances in seven weeks, I’d say he’s earned his keep, but another wire transfer’s kept him earning it. Hate to say it, but Markham’s the lynchpin that connects the dots. He was referred to Hells Riders by none other than, Oscar Vasquez. And he made that referral personally. Brookes couldn’t hack the Vasquez Cartel’s firewall without setting off the security measures they’ve got in place, but he got in far enough to tap the major player’s phones.”

Sitting back in his chair, Sly’s expression falls.

“It’s worse than we initially thought,” he divulges hesitantly. Which means, whatever he’s got to say next is going to be far from fucking good.

Jay bangs a heavy fist on the table, demanding,

“Just fucking tell us. We can’t decide what we’re gonna do if we don’t have all the details, and at the moment, you’re the man standing between that information and getting our women back. So I’m not gonna ask you again, tell us now or I fucking drag it out of you.”

“Rein it in asshole,” Deke snaps viciously. “If it wasn’t for Sly and Brookes, and in a small part Jump and Cash, we wouldn’t have shit, so cool it, yeah?”

Not waiting to see if Jay’s going to make good on his threat, Sly goes on to say,

“Brookes established the connection between Vasquez and Markham as far back as three years, four months ago. Fifty-seven calls have been initiated or received by one or the other on their personal cells. They didn’t bother to cover their tracks with burners, which leads me to think those were legitimate business calls. Or if they weren’t, they could be made to look that way. A second number started showing up on Markham’s bills four months back, cell was registered to, Marcus Ambrose. They had made contact twice a week, every Monday and Thursday at ten pm for nearly three of those months. The calls stopped six days before me, you, and Fury were due to meet with him, which I assume is why Vasquez took the meet instead,” he says to me.