Hunte (19 page)

An almighty commotion from the barroom ended the free and easy moment.

“What the fuck?” Boomer yelled.

“Hunter!” Jessica’s frightened voice hit my ears, rising above all the other shouts swelling down the corridor from the main room.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. She’d promised to stay home. Keep safe.

Palming my gun, I sheathed my knife and raced through the hall, a stampede of men pounding right after me.

The music still played over the speakers, but all else was still in the barroom.

Vicente stood in the middle of a wide ring of Retribution MC men who had their guns drawn, but none of them made a move on him. They didn’t fucking dare.

My rage roared.

Vicente held Jessica in front of him. He had a lethal FN-57 at her temple, a hand clasped across her waist, the tendons in his forearm taut with tension.

His Cuban gangsters entered through the door and fanned out beside him. Wearing their vests and colors, they looked like the outlaws the original MC was named for.

It was a standoff with Jessica smack dab in the middle of it.

“
Hola, Cazador
.” Vicente graced me with a curt nod.

Chapter Sixteen

“SO MANY NEW FACES,
si
? And this fine lady here. You sure you want to endanger all their lives,
jefe
?” Vicente forced Jessica farther into the room in front of him. “Only one person missing. Where’s my old
amigo
Walker?”

“Had to go visit a dying relative. Last minute,” I snarled, the muscles in my shoulders and neck standing out like steel cables.

“Leave you without backup,
hmm
?” His mustache twitched with a sneer-like smile. “Maybe not good partner for you.”

No shit. His words got me wondering what Walker really had to do with all this. He’d been the one to first contact me. He’d been at Jack’s school—taking down the perp before I had a chance to question him first. Walker had arranged the meeting at the Cigar Factory.

Whatever. None of that mattered now. Thoughts of violence consumed me as Vicente released Jessica’s waist only to snatch her head back by a fist in her hair. My fingers tightened on the Glock I kept lowered by my side.

Vicente’s wiry body tensed with leashed power. The muzzle of his cop-killer gun slid down the side of Jessica’s face, resting below her raised jaw. “But
thees.
Thees
is a prize. No wonder you tried keeping her to yourself.”

Jessica’s face paled, but she stood still and stiff and she didn’t make a sound.

Retribution men tensed beside me, prepared to take action.

“Stand down. He wants me.” Rage jacked me up at the sight of the oily little shit manhandling Jessica. Only Frankie’s hand clamping down on my wrist stopped me from going full metal jacket on him.

“May have reconsidered,
Cazador
.” Vicente sent a devious grin to me while he cupped Jessica’s breast. “Might like to try this sweet morsel instead.”

Now I knew how Brodie had felt with Ashe. Like a bull ready to charge. Coldly seething inside, I cautiously advanced. No less than twelve guns were trained on me.

“In case you get any funny ideas about heroic moves”—Vicente holstered the FN-57 in a
play nice
move, and I took a deep breath. That breath froze in my throat a second later when he pulled a knife from behind him. He slid the sharp blade along Jessica’s throbbing jugular—“I planted a bomb next door at Chrome and Steele. Eye for an eye. True retribution,
si
? Kill this club like you destroyed mine. Maybe we’ll all go down.” He turned the knife the tiniest fraction, and a drop of red blood welled on Jessica’s neck. “So unless you want the bomb to go off while we’re standing here, you’ll stay away from
su mujer dulce
.”

“No. No fucking way.” There were way too many people in the mix. “Everyone else goes.” Especially the civilians.
Especially Jessica.
“Just you and me, Vicente. You wanted me? You got me. I’ll go wherever you want. Do whatever you want. You have my word.”

He tightened his hold on Jessica. “
No
. Your grace period’s run out.”

“It hasn’t been ten days yet,
puta cabrón
.”

“I grow bored of waiting.” He shrugged.

“You don’t want to kill innocent people.”

“Like Quintessa?”

“I did not kill her,” I fired back. “I killed
for
her. FOR YOU!”

“You proved yourself until your true colors showed. Red, white, and blue,
viva
La Yuma
. You were never
Cubano
material.”

“Let Jessica go.” My hands raised, I stepped back. “Let them go. Let them all go. You know I don’t care what happens to me.”

When Jessica gave a strangled cry, Vicente looked down at her, frowning. “Too sharp?
Discúlpeme
.” He lifted the blade slightly from her skin.

Then he measured me for a moment before nodding to old Elon. The aged gangster opened the door, ushering the bar crawlers from the club.

Brodie stood next to me, Boomer on the other side. “We’re staying.”

Cole, Frankie, Handsome, Tuck, and Tail spread out beside us, making their intentions clear.

Now we were more or less even, except for Rayce. She took her place beside Boomer with a ripshit look on her face. “That’s my girl he’s got.”

“Rayce, please.” Boomer tried to push her away.

“I’m not leaving a sister.” Her chin notched up.

I had no time to play relationship interference because Jessica head-butted Vicente with a loud crack of skull on skull. When he recoiled, she wrenched around and spat in his face.

“
Puta.
” He swiftly backhanded her across the face.

I cranked forward, the blow landed on Jessica hitting me harder than any I’d ever been dealt. “You fucking hurt her again and I will feed you your intestines for dinner. You remember Servando?” 

Vicente’s lips curled in response.

“If you don’t get her back in one piece, I will legit kill you.” Rayce hissed at me.

My jaw stony hard and my eyes flinty cold, I kept my sights on the scene unfolding in front of me. “Getting her back in one piece
is
the only option. Now shut the hell up.”

Walker’s voice crackled before coming in loud and clear in the hidden earpiece I’d put in before heading to Retribution.
“Bomb did I hear Vicente say?”
His voice was so close it was like he stood right next to me although no one else could hear him.

“’Bout damn time,” I muttered.

“You got something to add,
Cazador
?” Vicente turned cunning eyes on me.

“Yeah. I said if you lay another finger on what’s mine, I’m gonna feed your fucking cock to the alligators, forget about the guts stuffed down your throat.” I stepped forward, straining to stay in check.

“Nice save, Kemosabe.”
I heard Walker’s guttural voice.

I growled softly in warning to the man, watching helplessly as Vicente dragged Jessica even farther away from me. He pushed her into a chair with such force she almost fell off it, then he traced the gleaming blade softly along the side of her jaw.

Her nostrils flared, and her eyes grew sparkly—bright, not with terror but with barely controlled anger, the same kind charging through me. I shook my head minutely, hoping she’d keep quiet. Vicente didn’t need to be provoked further.

“Now, now, Kemosabe, no need to go feral on me. Got here just as soon as I could. I’m next door.”

I almost swayed in relief.

At another of Vicente’s nods, his gangbangers worked along our line, efficiently disarming us.

The pile of hidden and not so hidden weapons from our bodies was an awe-inspiring assemblage of guns and metal. I wondered if all the brothers carried legally but really couldn’t give a fuck at that point. As soon as I could make a break for it, I was going to grab one of the knives and slash Vicente’s face to ribbons.

When Elon stopped in front of me, he peered up with a lopsided smile. “
Lo siento
.”

Once we were all weapons-free, Vicente snapped his fingers in approval. “As a sign of respect, I won’t tie you up.”

I was going to respect him with my fist rammed down his throat. “If you don’t want me back, what the fuck do you want?”

“I want you to beg. And I want you to bleed.” His words were calculating and very clearly said. They carried with them the sensation of someone walking over my grave.

“I’ve never begged for anything in my life.”

“You’d beg for her.” He raised the knife hilt like a blunt force weapon about to slam down on Jessica’s cheekbone.

“STOP!” I stepped forward. “Whatever you want. I told you.” My entire frame was rigid—fear for Jessica and the most unholy anger colliding inside me.

Vicente rubbed a finger under his mustache. “We jump you out just like we jumped you in. Maybe if you’re still alive after it’s over, I let you keep breathing.”

The guys standing beside me sounded off with muffled curses.

I walked into the center of the room. The cool, the calm, the deadly that had always come second nature in situations like this infiltrated my system. I had focus now. I was going to keep Vicente’s attention on me and no one else.

“Hunter? What’s going on?” Jessica jerked as far forward in her chair as she could before Vicente yanked her back.

“Nothing.” I didn’t look at her. That would be too hard.

I discarded my jacket and then my shirt. They landed in a heap at my feet.

“Think she’s going to enjoy the show,
amigo
?”

I stared into Vicente’s infinite empty eyes, refusing to answer.

Cole rushed forward to retrieve my discarded clothes. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t give a shit what state they were in when this was over. 

Jump me out.
Vicente’s thugs were to beat me. And I wasn’t to struggle or retaliate. I’d been through this before—Outlaw initiation. Then it’d been different, about proving my manhood, not murdering me. There was no relief in knowing, firsthand, what was coming, only in that it might keep Jessica safe.

The first fist flew at me. Block-like, it pounded into my midsection. Then the heavy meaty fist belted me three times in the ribs. Pain flared, exploding from my side, but I bit down on my lip to keep any sound of discomfort inside.

As the minutes passed, Vicente’s goons covered my face and torso with bleeding cuts and bone-jarring bruises. The vicious swings came, one after the other. I leaned over to retch, wiped my mouth on the back of my hand—it came away bloody—and straightened again, ready for the next excruciating onslaught.

The new
Muerte
Prez watched it all without comment, a satisfied smile tugging one corner of his lips. I’d figured out the rules now. No time limit. All twelve guys were going to have one go at me, at least, until I dropped. Then all bets were off.

I remained on my feet, reeling from a particularly sharp blow, when Brodie snarled, “This is fucking barbaric!”

I heard the other guys shouting and swearing, but they knew better than to interfere.

“You animals!” Tears streamed down Jessica’s face and curses flew from her lips.

Vicente held her pinned to the chair.

As long as I held up my end of the bargain, he wouldn’t hurt her out of some savage sense of honor. Then, when he’d decided I’d withstood enough of the beatings, maybe he’d relent enough to make me crawl across the floor and beg. I’d do it, blistered and bloody. I’d do it so I could beg for her life and those of the others.

“Ready to cry mercy yet,
Cazador
?” Vicente jeered.

My simmering rage cooled to the precise point of survival until that cold hard nugget was all I hung onto. Each ragged breath. Every beat of my pulse. My fists clenched at my sides. Hair hung into my eyes, sweaty and wet, the sweat stinging the cuts on my cheeks and the swelling bruises on my lips. Jessica watched, biting down on her knuckle, wincing with every strike that slammed into me. Anguish contorted her face.

Another hammer blow struck my face.

“
Urg
,” I gurgled as blood filled my mouth.

“Sounds like that one hurt,”
Walker, who had been silent all this time, added his commentary.

Dizzy and sore, I didn’t scream. I stayed almost upright, conscious and standing, straining with only one thing on my mind. Keep. Jessica. Alive.

“Defused. Free and clear.”
Walker spoke into the earpiece.
“Gimme a second before you act. I’ve got a diversion planned.”

One more heavy blow to the kidneys. I felt like passing out, but I could hold on.

Luis reeled back to take one last hit at my face, one I thought would knock me flat on the floor. I braced myself. Before his punch connected an explosion
boomed
from outside. The room shook. The windows rattled. The walls, ceiling, and floor quaked all around us.

“
Hijo de la chingada madre, que fue esto
?” Vicente shouted. “The bomb couldn’t have gone off!”

I thought Walker had fucked up the explosives he said he’d defused, but his voice was immediately in my ear. Low and malicious, it was an entirely welcome sound.
“That oughtta give you a few seconds, Ghost. I think it’s time for you to take that motherfucker down and put him in the ground so he can’t rise again.”

The Cubans distracted, I went for the one nearest me, incapacitating him with a quick blow to his solar plexus. Just like that, the rage building in Brodie, Boomer, Frankie, and the others exploded into action. The room became a hurricane of fists and boots and glinting weapons. Retribution MC versus Cuban cartel.

Rayce reached Jessica just as I dove for Vicente. She quickly pulled Jessica from the chair and helped her reach relative safety behind the bar. Then my attention was concentrated on one man only.

Shouts mangled together and fights blurred around me as it all dropped away. I wondered if Vicente’s heart jackrabbited in his chest with the knowledge of what was to come. Mine slowed into the lethally calm pulse that had been my constant during years of missions. Perhaps his heartbeat would be the last one I stopped. It was a good day to kill, I decided with a feral smile at him as he backed away from me.