Fury (4 page)

Chapter
Six

“Where
the fuck is he?” Birdie asked from the bed he was currently crashing on at the
clubhouse. He’d checked himself out of the hospital. He hadn’t wanted to be
held up in a sterile-like room. But then Fury had gone AWOL, and Birdie knew he
couldn’t sit around and not figure out what in the fuck was going on.

“I
don’t know. He just fucking took off, called and said he had business to take
care of, and that was that.”

Birdie
looked at Stone after he spoke, and he’d known enough liars in his day to know
Stone was full of shit. He pushed himself up on the bed and winced as pain
lanced through his whole body. But he pushed that shit back and focused on what
needed to be done. Stone touched his shoulder, wanting to help, but Birdie
didn’t need it. “I don’t want fucking help, man,” Birdie said and pushed Stone
away.

“Yeah,
you’re a fucking Bleeding Mayhem member, all right,” Stone said with a harsh
growl. “Fucking cranky motherfucker and full of pride.” Stone mumbled out the
words, his eyes narrowed and trained on Birdie.

“Fuck,
man, I don’t need help from anyone.”

Stone
grunted and flipped Birdie off. “Grumpy old bastard.”

“Tell
me where Fury is.”

Stone
had his back to Birdie now, but after a few moments finally turned around. The
man had a head full of short dark hair, and his eyes, this intense green color,
were trained right on Birdie.

“Don’t
think about a lie, man, just fucking tell me where he is. He’s obviously going
through some shit, and I want to be there for him. I’ve known him my whole
life.”

Stone
didn’t say anything for long seconds, but finally exhaled. “He’ll know I
snitched him out, and then he’ll beat my ass.”

Birdie
shrugged. “You’re big enough and look like you can handle yourself.”

Stone
grunted. “Not the fucking point.” Another moment of silence passed, and then
Stone exhaled and cursed. “He’s at a cabin out in the fucking middle of
nowhere.”

“What
cabin?” Birdie asked and was already sitting on the edge of the bed. He was
slowly recovering, but damn did he hurt like a motherfucker.

“The
club owns a cabin out past Route 26. It’s literally out in the fucking
boondocks, but I know that’s where he’s at.”

Birdie
nodded. “I need to get out there.”

“You
fucking crazy?” Stone asked incredulously. “Not only did Fury want his fucking
privacy, but you’re in no shape to go anywhere.”

Birdie
flipped Stone off. “I’m fine.” Truth was he hurt like a motherfucker, but if
Fury was dealing with shit he wanted to be there for him. They’d been through a
lot of things back in the day, things the MC didn’t know about, and he wasn’t
going to lie up here in this bed when things needed to get done. He held onto
his side and breathed through the pain. This wasn’t the first time he’d been
nearly down for the count, but the fact Fury wasn’t here, and hadn’t come by,
told Birdie whatever the man was going through was deep.

“Are
you sure you want to be moving around?” Stone asked. “Doc said you are lucky to
even be alive.”

Birdie
grunted. “This isn’t the worst shape I’ve ever been in.” He stared at the other
man, and could see the annoyance on his face. Birdie chuckled. “You want to
nurse me back to health or some shit?”

“Fuck
off,” Stone said and walked closer. “Whatever Fury’s going through he hasn’t
told the club. The only reason I know where he’s at is because I asked, and
when he clammed up I knew.” Stone ran a hand over his face and breathed out.
“President or not he shouldn’t be going rogue like this.”

Birdie
braced his hands on the bed on either side of him. “If he did go rogue he has a
good reason.” Birdie breathed through the pain and pushed himself off the bed.

His
chest burned something fierce, but his recovery was going good, if slow. Maybe it
wasn’t the smartest move to go anywhere, but he needed to be there for Fury.
Birdie pushed Stone away when the other man tried to help him walk. The pain
had Birdie starting to sweat, but he slowly made his way into the bathroom.
Bracing a hand on the wall he switched the light on and looked at his
reflection in the mirror above the sink. His dark hair stood in strands around
his head, and his face was ashen. Dark circles were around his eyes, and beads
of sweat covered his forehead. He looked a fucking mess, but if Fury wasn’t
going to answer his damn phone when he called, and was out being damn Rambo
without the club knowing, Birdie was going to go to him.

Hell,
he’d done ten years in prison to protect Fury, even though they’d killed that
motherfucker together. He’d do anything for the man because Birdie saw him as a
brother, and that’s all Birdie had in this shitty world.

****

Angelina
sat on the bed and stared at the plate of food Fury had given her. Her stomach
clenched and growled, and although she was hungry she couldn’t bring herself to
eat anything. She thought about her father, about her life.

Her
childhood hadn’t been shitty, and in fact she’d had a lot of opportunities
opened to her because she was a Cardona. But it was when she got older that she
understood why she got all the things she had. Her brother and father had run
the family business, but until she was a teenager she’d just thought it was the
stores around the neighborhood. Little did she know it was those stores that
were used to do backroom deals, and even places where people were killed.

She
closed her eyes and hung her head, breathing out. Being a Cardona didn’t mean
she liked the life, or even wanted it. It was the hand she’d been dealt. It
wasn’t until she saw her brother beat the shit out of some kid because he
looked at him the “wrong way” that she realized she couldn’t be part of that
world.

She
pushed the plate away after picking at it for several minutes, her stomach in
knots, but strangely not because she was currently in this situation. It was
weird to be chained up in some stranger’s house, not sure of the outcome, but
not be afraid of what might happen to her. Fury was huge and definitely scary,
but he wanted payback for her father, and she guessed if she’d been in his shoes
she would have done the same. If she had anyone she cared about she would go to
great lengths to make things right.

But this is so fucked up.

Angelina
picked up the chain that hung off the bed and ran her fingers over the cold
metal. It started to warm in her grasp the longer she held it. She wanted to
cry at the situation she was in, but what she found fucked up was her tears
were over the fact it was her family that had her in this predicament.

She
stood and walked toward the door. The sun had already set, and from what Fury
said she was out for several hours. But the day had slowly worn on, and now
with evening already upon them, all she should want to do was curl up and cry.
That or figure out how to escape.

And where would you go? If Fury
found you so easy then he’s right, your family probably knew where you were the
whole time.

But
if they had known where she was why didn’t they come after her? Angelina knew
her father wouldn’t have just let it go that she left without a word to them.

She
reached for the handle, but before she could open it, it swung inward.
Retreating several steps and almost tripping over the chain, she tilted her
head back and stared up at Fury. He held two bottles of beer in his hand, but
one was already being tipped back into his mouth as he took a hefty drink from
it.

He
handed her the other beer, and she took it, knowing she could smash the damn
thing over his head, but also grateful for the small reprieve the alcohol would
give her.

She
drank half the bottle before she brought the tip away from her mouth. She
didn’t even like beer all that much, but seeing as she never drank Angelina
figured the alcohol would ease her up a bit. She hoped, at least.

“You
hate your family that much, huh?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Yeah,
that much.” She moved back toward the bed, the chain making a loud clanking
noise on the ground. When she was seated on the mattress she held the bottle
between her hands, looking at it. “My childhood wasn’t horrible. I had cousins
to play with, but my mother and father weren’t really there for me.” She lifted
her head and looked at Fury. He leaned against the doorframe, his expression
unreadable. “My brother was an asshole for as long as I could remember, and it
wasn’t until I was a teenager that I saw the kind of men that surrounded me.”

She
lifted her bottle and took another drink, not sure why in the hell she was even
saying anything to him. He didn’t care, especially not about her childhood. All
Fury wanted was his revenge, and she was a means to that end. But she kept her
mouth shut after saying all of that, because the less he knew about her the
better. Angelina didn’t need any extra drama in her life … well, not anymore
than she already had.

“And
you waited so long to leave?” he asked, and she lifted her head, a little
stunned he cared enough to wonder.

She
shrugged and stared into his dark eyes.

“You’re
only what, twenty-five at the most?”

She
nodded. “But leaving the Cardonas isn’t the easiest thing.” He didn’t say
anything in response. “My father never spent a lot of time with me. He was with
my brother the majority of the time, showing him how things ran. But I always
had someone watching over me.” Scrubbing a hand over her eyes, she hated
thinking about the past. “My father cares about me in the terms of protecting
an asset.” Angelina looked at Fury again. He stood there finishing off his
beer, appearing like he didn’t give a shit about this. Which he probably
didn’t, but it felt … nice, in a fucked up way, to talk about this stuff.

“So
you found a way out and took it?”

She
nodded after he spoke. “Yeah. There were other times I probably could have run,
but a lot of things held me back.”

“Like
what?” He almost sounded like he was challenging her.

“Like
making sure I had money, could get away without them dragging me back.” She
swallowed. “Fear held me back, not knowing what was ahead of me. A lot of
things kept me there. But I finally realized I had to just do it or I’d die in
that prison.” She held his stare, maybe challenging him herself. “The Cardonas
don’t really take kindly to people bailing on them, blood or not.”

“If
you wanted to disappear, you didn’t do a very good job. Like I said, I found
you easy enough.”

Yeah,
she knew that, but she thought she would have been safe, at least for longer
than she had. It had been months since she ran, but only a couple of weeks
since she’d felt like she was being watched. Had it been her father’s men, or
Fury?

It
seemed like changing her last name hadn’t been able to keep her hidden, but she
knew that all along, even if it had been deep down. She’d just been a fool, but
she’d been in denial, thinking she could find a semblance of independence.

“I’m
an idiot for thinking I could escape who I am and where I come from. I was
foolish to think my father wouldn’t find me.” She’d meant to say that in her
head, but after the words came out she just couldn’t give a damn that Fury had
heard.

Fury
didn’t speak, and instead nodded his head toward the bed. “You should get some
rest.”

She
looked at the head of the bed, suddenly feeling so damn tired. Maybe she didn’t
have freedom in her future? Maybe her life was meant to stay on the same fucked
up track? Either way she could at least say she’d experienced a small taste of
being away from it all, and she was thankful for that.

Chapter
Seven

“She
wasn’t there, boss.”

Sal
stared out the window in the house he was currently laid up in. He had a cast
on his leg, a stray bullet getting him pretty close to the femoral artery.
These past weeks all Sal had been able to think about was what the Bleeding
Mayhem MC had done, and who they’d taken.

He
took a long inhale from his cigar, held the smoke in his mouth, and exhaled
after a few seconds. The scene from the window was nothing but countryside. He
was in a safe house he used on occasion when shit went down, and shit had
definitely gone down.

Marco
was dead by the hands of those worthless pieces of shit, and although he’d
known where Angelina had been since she ran off, he’d had other things on his
plate that took precedence over bringing back an ungrateful child that was
causing him more grief. But he’d finally sent men out to bring her back,
because even if he’d deal with her running out on her family during a time like
this, he wouldn’t let the MC get her either.
He
’d be the one to show her what it meant firsthand to fuck with
them.

She
was a Cardona, and her running off, deserting her family, was a betrayal in the
worst of ways. She might be blood, but she’d made the family look bad by
leaving, and he couldn’t allow it to slide. She had to be made an example of.

“What
do you mean she wasn’t there?” he said, keeping his focus on the scenery in
front of him. He had his leg propped up, wanting the fucking cast off, wanting
his son back, but knowing he had to focus on the revenge. He was a Cardona, and
no one fucked with them, least of all a damn motorcycle club. He turned his
head and stared at Luis. “How the fuck do you lose a woman you’ve been
tailing?” His anger rose.

Luis
started shifting on his feet. “Once she was in her place we parked out front,
but she never came out the next morning. One of the guys went in and found she
was gone.”

Sal
stubbed his cigar out, braced his hands on the arms of the chair, and stood.
Miguel was beside him to help, but he pushed the man away, grabbed a crutch to
help steady himself, and moved to stand in front of Luis. The fear poured from
Luis like a gas line breaking.

“You
don’t know where my fucking daughter is?” She’d been living a few hours away,
and in this situation he knew he should have just hauled her ass home. But at
first he’d been busy with work and Marco, and her mother hadn’t given a shit
about anything aside from the pills she’d been popping. As it was Rosa was in
bed passed out from the booze and Valium, Marco’s death hitting her hard.

“She
must have gone out the backdoor, boss.”

Sal
clenched his jaw. “She went out the back door? You meant to tell me you didn’t
have men stationed at every entrance and exit, like I fucking ordered?” He saw
Luis swallow before shaking his head. “So the MC could get to her, probably had
already. Do you realize if they take her out how badly that will reflect on us?
Do you realize it’ll make us look weak?”

“It
was a mistake, boss—”

Sal
lifted one of the crutches and brought it along the upside of Luis’s head. The
sound of his skull cracking rang through the room, and Luis fell to the ground.
Blood started dripping down the side of his head, and the groans coming from
Luis annoyed Sal.

“Miguel,
get him the fuck out of my sight, and send out the boys to find Angelina.”

“Yes,
boss.”

Miguel
picked up Luis with the help of Carlos, and they hauled the motherfucker out of
his sight.

Sal
went back to his seat and sat down, stared out the window, and knew he had to
find Angelina. If that fucking MC had anything to do with her disappearing,
word would spread that the Cardonas couldn’t even handle their own, couldn’t
even stop some MC from bringing down Sal Cardona’s offspring.

He
grabbed his cell and dialed Nando’s number. If his fucking men couldn’t find
his daughter, and let her disappear, he needed to go to the next level.

“Yeah?”
Nando’s deeply Italian accented voice came through the receiver.

“I
need Angelina found, and want to bring down some motherfuckers. You up to
getting your hands dirty?”

“Always.
And when I find your daughter what do you want me to do with the fuckers that
took her?”

Sal
didn’t need to think about it. “Take them out and make it slow and painful.” He
had never been close with Angelina, and to be honest she’d been more of a
liability for his enemies to get at him. He would have protected her if she
hadn’t betrayed them by leaving, but now that she was gone, and if she was with
the MC, getting her back was more about teaching her a lesson, and letting word
get out that even blood got what was coming to them.

This
was also about the Bleeding Mayhem MC, and he’s go to any lengths to bring down
that fucking club. They came after the Cardonas, and took out his son. That
meant this was fucking war.

****

Fury
had left Angelina in the room hours ago, and all he’d done since then was
slowly finish off a bottle of scotch. The TV was on but muted, and some old
school horror movie played on the screen. He didn’t know what the fuck he was
going to do, if he were being honest. He had initially planned on taking Sal’s
daughter, and doing all kinds of fucked up shit to her to get some revenge
toward the Cardonas. All he’d been able to see after Birdie was shot and the
club was put in jeopardy was getting even with fucking Sal. Sure it had also
been about getting information out of Angelina that could help Fury get her
father, find out where the prick was hiding, and taking out the old bastard.
But here he was, not even two days after taking her, and he was thinking of
letting her go.

She
didn’t know anything. He could see that in her face, in the way she spoke. He
went with his gut, and his instincts were telling him she was innocent in all
of this. Doing anything to her but letting her go seemed so fucking wrong, and
unlike him. But despite knowing that, wanting to be able to let her go and find
Sal on his own, he also knew he could use her as leverage. It was fucked up,
but his club and family came first, even if that meant being a lowdown dirty
bastard and using an innocent woman.

He
stood, but the room started to spin because of how drunk he was already, and he
braced his hand on the arm of the couch.

“Fuck,”
he said and ran a hand over his face, feeling his days’ worth of stubble cover
his cheeks and jaw. He turned and stared down the hallway, looked at the closed
door of the bedroom where Angelina was currently chained up, and felt his cock
harden and his heart start to race. He was a sick motherfucker for his body’s
reaction to her, given the situation they were in. But all he could picture was
her sitting on the bed, the oversized t-shirt hanging off one of her shoulders,
her olive skin tone and the sight of her delicate collarbones, making the male
part of him rise up like a violent fucking beast. It also didn’t help the sight
of the chain around her ankle, of her submission—involuntary or not—made him
fucking harder than rock.

He
adjusted his cock behind the fly of his jeans and cleared his throat. He needed
to go sleep this drunkenness off, and tomorrow he’d decide the next move on how
to find out where Sal was. Despite the fact Marco was dead and Sal had ducked
out after all that shit had gone down, Fury wasn’t going to stop until he had
confirmation that motherfucker was either dead, or find out where he was
hiding. Fury wasn’t going to let this go until he had Cardona blood on his
hands.

****

She
was exhausted, but Angelina couldn’t sleep. She’d been lying in the bed,
staring at the ceiling, for the last several hours. The sound of a clock in the
hallway ticking was the only thing that broke up the silence, and the light
coming through the crack at the bottom of the door the only illumination in the
windowless room.

Pushing
the blanket off she sat up, the chain a heavy reminder of where she was and why
she was here. But the strange part, the really, truly fucked up part, was the
fact that chain held this comfort for her. It was like a hand holding her,
keeping her grounded. Her entire life she’d been locked away, in a sense, and
although she’d had her space, her “Cardona style freedom”, she’d always felt
like she was alone. But right here, right now, trapped in this room, her
kidnapper just beyond the door, she felt like she was free in a sense she could
never truly comprehend. It was strange, warped and twisted, but it also felt
like she wasn’t out of control and unable to see the ground.

She
stood and walked over to the door, staring at the handle in the darkened, muted
room. She’d already walked the entire perimeter of her “prison” and although
there was a lamp she could have used as a weapon, there was another part of her
that had forced her to walk away from it. Even if she wanted to beat Fury over
the head with it, the truth was it wouldn’t have done anything more than piss
him off. But Angelina hadn’t even really thought of hitting him with it,
because after she’d spilled her past, some of it, at least, she’d felt this
weight being lifted from her. She wanted to leave, sure, but she also knew
being tucked away in the middle of nowhere would also ensure her father
wouldn’t find her.

Am I so screwed up I’d rather stay
chained to a wall in the home of a man that kidnapped me than face the world
where my father could find me?

She
gripped the handle, the brass cold in her grasp, but warming the longer she
held it. She turned it and pulled open the door, the light from the living room
hurting her eyes for a second before her vision adjusted.

She
bent down and picked up the extra length of the chain so it didn’t drag on the
ground as badly, and slowly made her way down the hall. The slack went taut
when she reached the end, the living room, kitchen, and front door in sight.
Looking around, she didn’t see Fury, but as she leaned forward as far as she
could she made out a closed door off to the right. Was that his room, where he
was right now? Looking at the front door again, Angelina honestly didn’t know
if she would have run for it if she hadn’t been chained up.

“You
really
are
more screwed up than you
thought,” she whispered to herself. Before turning she spied an empty scotch
bottle sitting on the coffee table, and thought a stiff drink would have done
her some good right about now.

Turning,
she headed back down the hallway but went into the bathroom instead. Turning on
the light and looking at herself in the mirror, she hated herself for
everything she’d put up with in her life. She’d never fought, and always
settled, and look at where she was now. She shut the door, or as well as she
could given the chain blocking it from shutting completely.

“I
should have run farther, and not been so fucking naive and dumb,” she said to
her reflection. Glancing at the bathtub, she contemplated for just a second
about taking a bath, maybe hoping to ease her nerves and help her sleep, but
she wasn’t at home, wasn’t in any sane and normal circumstance. “God.” She
breathed out, braced her hands on the sink, and closed her eyes. If she’d had
any information about her father she would have given it up gladly.

And
then, like a flash of lighting going off inside of her, she remembered
something. It might not be much, but it was better than nothing.

The cabin he always stayed at when
things got too heavy.

She
pulled the door open, and a startled cry left her when she saw Fury standing
there in nothing but a pair of jeans that were unbuttoned. He had a hand braced
on the doorframe, his muscles so pronounced she actually felt a tingle move up
her spine. He had tattoos covering every inch of his chest and arms, and even
though he was covered in ink she could see scars intermittently along his body.

Angelina
took a step back, the chain dragging across the floor, and her side hitting the
corner of the sink vanity. She winced as the pain lanced through her. The scent
of alcohol came from him like a slap to the face, and she wondered if she could
get intoxicated just from the smell alone. He was drunk, that was clear by his
bloodshot eyes, the alcohol scent coming from him, and the fact he just looked
good and wasted. She didn’t know why that turned her on the way it did, but she
felt heat move through her.

Bracing
her hand on the sink, she didn’t know what to say or do. He didn’t move, just
stood there with his arm propped up on the doorframe, and his bicep flexed,
showcasing his muscles. Maybe Angelina shouldn’t have been looking at him, but
she couldn’t help letting her gaze travel down his abdomen, over his six-pack, and
to the V of muscle that screamed he was all male. He also had a dark trail of
hair that started below his navel and disappeared beneath his jeans … jeans
that were unbuttoned.

God, how fucked up am I that I find
him so arousing?

“I—”
Yeah, she had no clue what to say, because as it was Fury just stood there
staring at her with half lidded eyes.

“You
what?” he asked, his voice scratchy, deep, and masculine.

My father might be at a house he
owns outside of town.