Vengeance Road Page 32

  Candy’s smile faded, and both of them came to a halt. She leaned down and whispered something to the boy.

  “He’s beautiful,” Lana said.

  “Looks like you, Steele,” Transporter said.

  “She’s reminding him to stay close to her and away from any of the men. Not to make a lot of noise or cry. Especially not to cry,” Mechanic reported. “She told him they would swim later, that they needed to get back inside.”

  Steele knew Candy was aware Donk liked to hurt smaller creatures. The girl straightened and started to turn.

  “Candy,” Donk roared. “Get your ass over here and suck my cock.”

  “Mine too,” Riddle said.

  Favor just opened his jeans.

  Candy pushed the child behind her and indicated the door to the house. “I’m supposed to be watching him.” She took a step to try to get back to the safety of the house.

  Donk started toward her, his strides long, arms swinging angrily, reminding Steele of a gorilla. “You do what I say,” he snapped. “Get your ass over here and bring that little pissant with you. I’ll drown the little mongrel.”

  Candy held up her hand to placate him. “I’ll blow you, Donk. No problem.”

  Steele focused on the boy. He was looking at Donk with fear, but also with open distaste. He didn’t turn and run as Candy had instructed him to do.

  Donk reached Candy and grabbed her by the hair, twisting her head, clearly prepared to shove her to her knees. A startled cry of pain came from Candy, and both hands went to Donk’s arm to try to ease his hold on her.

  Zane exploded into action. “Don’t hurt her!” he yelled and flung himself at Donk.

  The big man swung his fist at Zane. Candy stepped in front of the child, so the blow took her just above the elbow. She screamed and sank down onto the patio, cradling her arm.

  “What the fuck, Donk?” Lizard yelled as he ran to his daughter, leaving the gate open wide behind him. He leaned down to examine her arm. She kept crying, rocking back and forth. Lizard straightened slowly, glaring at Donk.

  “Stop whining, you little bitch. This is your fault. Open your mouth and I’ll give you something to do besides cry like the whiny little bitch you are. You’ve always spoiled her, Lizard. She doesn’t do anything she’s told.”

  Lizard glared at him. “You broke her fuckin’ arm.” He got Candy to her feet. “I’m taking her to the hospital.”

  Candy indicated the little boy. Zane started toward her, but Lizard shook his head. “Can’t take him, Candy. Bridges would never allow it. Let’s go.” Lizard all but forced her around to the gate that led to the front drive where he’d parked his vehicle.

  Donk wrapped his fist around his cock and then roared. His gaze dropped to the little boy. Furious, he took a step toward him. “I’m going to drown you, you little fucker.”

  SIXTEEN

  Steele heard Breezy’s frantic cry and knew she and Keys had been watching closely from the wide window in the house. Birds took to the air, all the sparrows, lifting off the branches of the tree they’d been resting in so that the air turned black. As one unit they flew like a dark shadow to insert themselves between Zane and Donk.

  Everyone was on the move with the exception of Preacher. He squeezed the trigger, and Donk’s head exploded. Immediately he shifted his aim and shot Riddle right between the eyes.

  Transporter’s rifle also sounded, and Favor dropped to the ground. Steele, Maestro and Savage leapt from the roof, landing in a crouch as Breezy burst from the house, Keys on her heels.

  A truck was already in the front yard, everyone leaping into it, Player at the wheel. Keys tackled Breezy, stopping her.

  “Go, go,” Steele ordered, and Player stepped on the gas.

  Keys could handle Breezy. Steele wasn’t going to allow his woman anywhere near this mess. He had no idea how many men were still inside. Mechanic had confirmed at least five, but there was likely to be more. Any one of the Swords was capable of shooting Zane from a distance, even if Torpedo Ink could keep the boy from entering the house.

  Player had mapped out the quickest route to the estate, covering the distance in record time, but it was the longest few minutes Steele could ever remember. Dirt rose in clouds around the vehicle. The birds shrieked, and the hawk darted in the air. Steele caught glimpses of it diving as if attacking something and then rising sharply, only to go back, talons extended, wicked beak in play.

  They hit the ground running, spreading out, some going in through the various entrances, the layout of the house and grounds already completely familiar to them. Steele went to the backyard, Maestro and Savage beside him.

  Donk’s body lay only feet from Zane. The child stood in a pool of blood, tears streaking down his face. The door to the house was open. A wall of birds spun in circles between Zane and the door, making it nearly impossible for the little boy to move.

  “Get in here,” Junk snarled. “I’ll beat your ass if you don’t get in here, Zane,” he called to the child.

  Zane turned toward the sound of Junk’s voice, and Junk stuck his head around the door to give him another order. The hawk dropped from the sky and ripped its talons across Junk’s face, digging deep, leaving long furrows over his cheeks, one eye and forehead. His high-pitched scream matched that of the hawk as the bird rose into the air. Junk staggered and fell. The bullet tore into the doorframe where his head had been. He scrambled backward and kicked the door closed, leaving Zane alone with the three dead men and all the birds.

  Zane put his arms into the air, trying to shoo the birds away. Steele hurried across the patio, staying low, Maestro running with him. From inside, guns spat. Glass shattered, and bullets zinged past both men. Steele, heart in his throat, kept moving toward his son, terrified that Bridges or Junk would shoot the boy out of pure spite before he could get to him. More windows shattered, proving the two men weren’t alone in the house.

  Zane put both hands over his ears and walked backward away from the house, leaving a bloody trail of footprints. He was getting dangerously close to the pool. The dark cloud of sparrows circled him continuously, making it difficult to see him through the spinning shadow of birds. The noise was horrendous with all the birds making a riotous racket.

  The boat came at the pier fast, Lana at the wheel, Mechanic training guns on the estate. Steele threw caution to the wind and sprinted toward his son. Maestro ran with him, his body a solid wall between Steele and the house. Ordinarily, the moment he realized Maestro was in danger, Steele would have stopped his reckless behavior, but this was Zane. His son. Breezy’s son. He kept going, hoping the universe would be understanding and Maestro wouldn’t get hit.

  He reached Zane just as the little boy realized he wasn’t alone out there. When he spotted Steele rushing toward him, he turned and started to run, heading right for the pool. Steele renewed his efforts, trying to put on more speed. He reached the boy just as Zane had one foot over the edge. Wrapping his arm around him, he dragged him to his chest, whirled around toward the lake and kept sprinting fast, heading for the boat, Lana and Mechanic.

  Bullets hit all around them, and then Preacher and Transporter were answering, returning fire, hosing the house back and forth across the windows so that whoever was firing at Steele and Maestro had to hit the floor to keep from getting killed. Preacher had switched weapons but was no less lethal.

  Zane struggled, trying to get free. “I’ve got you,” Steele whispered. His heart felt like it would explode in his chest any minute. He had his boy. His son. Safe. Relatively safe, he qualified, as he raced along the pier toward the boat. He was more exposed than ever now, right out in the open, his feet pounding on the wooden pier as he got closer to the boat, although the birds were forming another dark wall between Maestro, him and the house.

  He had Zane wrapped up tightly, so nothing could hurt the boy. “We’re taking you to your mommy. She’s
waiting for you,” he assured, over and over, as he ran.

  The boy stopped struggling as they reached the boat. Lana had pulled on a long shirt that covered her body as she drove the boat. She had the powerful craft alongside the pier and she reached for Zane as Mechanic steadied it. Steele transferred his son to his “sister.” She took him, immediately bringing him in close to her.

  “Mommy’s going to be so happy to see you,” Lana said, and there were tears of happiness in her voice. “Look at him, Steele. He’s you. He’s Breezy.”

  Steele dropped his hand on top of Zane’s head, just for one brief moment, and then he turned back to face the house. All softness drained from him, leaving behind pure rage. He glanced at Maestro. Maestro nodded. Behind him, he heard the powerful engine of the boat as Mechanic took Lana and Zane out onto the lake, away from the Abernathy estate.

  “We know how many yet?” Steele asked, all business. They moved fast, in perfect sync as they’d been doing for years. Both used the landscape and layout of the house as cover as they moved back to the firefight.

  He wanted to see the reunion between Breezy and her son, but this was far more important. He had to remove the threat to her, to his family, once and for all. The Swords, as a club, would keep trying for them, but Torpedo Ink was keeping them weak, draining all their money from them. They continued to keep them from making new money using old methods. As Code found it, they provided evidence against club members to law enforcement, anonymously, of course, but the evidence was too solid to ignore. There was no way the new problems the club faced could be traced back to Torpedo Ink. They were completely off the club’s radar and hopefully would remain so. They intended to destroy the Swords using every means possible.

  “Seven shooters left in the house,” Maestro reported. “The others took out four. Three live upstairs, four down. Bridges and Junk are both downstairs. Preacher caught a glimpse of them. He could have taken out Junk a couple of times but figured you would prefer to do that.”

  “He’s right. Anyone else is fair game. What about Boone?”

  “He’s upstairs in the room with the big balcony overlooking the backyard. Preacher kept him away from the window. He aimed at Zane, not at anyone else. Definitely wanted to take out your son.”

  They were moving into the danger zone, so Steele halted and then signaled that he was going up. The balcony overlooking the backyard was very long and deep, most likely associated with the master bedroom. It curved in places, which was helpful, because the twisting, dark railing made it harder for someone looking through the French doors to see now that the glass was shattered.

  Steele went up the side of the building fast, using his strength. Boone would think he was safe because he was up high and the outside walls, although brick, didn’t seem as if they could be climbed without equipment. Those very shallow cracks between bricks were all Steele and Maestro needed to make their way up.

  Steele waited until Maestro was in position. Maestro had climbed the building from the opposite side of the master bedroom. They ignored the gunfire erupting from various spots around the house. All that mattered was to do their job. They would take out all shooters on the top floor and clear every room, so when they went downstairs in search of Bridges and Junk, no one would be left behind to retaliate.

  Steele crept into position, going high, up on the overhanging roof. It protected anyone on the balcony from sun or rain as they sat outside enjoying the view of the lake. He crept along the edge of the roof until he was almost over the spot where he was certain Boone was crouched behind something solid he’d overturned.

  Steele lowered his head until he could see into the room. Boone had crawled away from the window and was dragging a very large end table over to the window. He placed it behind him, making certain that it was set up to protect his back from anyone who might try to sneak up on him.

  While Steele watched, Boone stabbed his finger onto a button on the landline. “Bridges. Where the fuck are you?”

  “We’re taking heavy fire down here, Boone,” Bridges told his father. “That fucking Steele. I told you about him and his friends. He’s here. He got the kid out of here. Breezy must be close by.”

  “Send someone to pick her and the kid up. You have them and he’s going to back off.”

  There was silence. Bridges cleared his throat. “Not Steele, Boone. It won’t matter. He won’t stop. None of these men ever stop.”

  The voice was tinny coming from the phone’s speaker through the intercom system.

  “Then you give that little bastard to me. I’ll skin him alive in front of the man. That doesn’t work, I’ll do the same to Breezy.”

  “Boone.” Bridges’s voice was cautionary.

  That surprised Steele and told him something at the same time. Bridges was afraid of his father. He believed the man was capable of doing just what he threatened.

  “Kill the son of a bitch then, just do it fast.” Boone slammed down the receiver, picked up his gun and once more moved into position, pressing close to the window, his body behind the heavy table, the barrel of his gun on top of the edge to steady his hand.

  Steele maneuvered along the roof until he was just overhead of where Boone had set up his fortress. Once in place, Steele signaled to Maestro to let him know he was ready. In position. Need him to turn toward you.

  On it. Maestro slid his steel-toed boot along the outside of the glass. A high-pitched shriek erupted from the glass. He kicked hard at the last second, breaking more of the glass out of the window.

  Steele swung down, driving right into Boone’s face as the man lifted up, gun in hand, slightly turned in order to shoot Maestro. Steele’s motorcycle boots slammed into Boone’s nose and both eyes so hard there was a crunch of bones as the nose was crushed. He’d targeted the orbital socket, deliberately fracturing both the upper and lower. He swung on into the room, letting go with his fingertips, following Boone down to the ground and kicking his gun away.

  Boone tried to sit up and Steele kicked him in the head, crushing his cheekbone on the left side. Boone howled for help. Maestro followed Steele in, picking up Boone’s gun as he hurried across the room to the closed door. He stood to one side of it and listened while Steele proceeded to beat Boone, using just his boots. He never so much as bent down or got out of breath.

  “Shouldn’t have threatened my son or my woman,” Steele said. “You’re going to die slow and hard.” He continued kicking, going for maximum pain, breaking bones and smashing internal organs. He stopped when there was no possible way for the man to move. He was done for. He would lie there suffering until his heart gave out or he bled to death internally.

  Steele crouched down and stared into his eyes. “I’m killing your son and your grandson, so you won’t be going alone to hell. I’ll give that to you as a present.” He stood up and signaled to Maestro he was ready.

  “Eyes or ears on second floor,” Maestro asked. “Ink? Can you tell us where the shooters are and what’s around them?”

  The others were keeping everyone pinned down in the house. On the off chance that anyone managed to slip through the guard outside, every vehicle had been disabled.

  They heard the sound of wings as the birds flew in a mass through the broken windows. The noise was much like a wind gusting at a high rate of speed. The sound of flesh hitting wood was loud to their left, as if someone had tried to club at the birds. If they did, the blows went through the flock as if they were insubstantial, nothing more than shadows. The wind howled as it retreated. Steele saw the huge flock of birds change shape in the air, looking for a moment like an hourglass with time running out, and then the birds were back in the tree.

  “Single shooter in third window to your left. Looks like a sitting room of some sort. Couches and chairs. The shooter is right at the window. Box of ammo next to him. He’s ready for war,” Ink said.

  Someone screamed downstairs an
d a gun went off. More screams—this time the same voice was agonized. Savage was at work, cleaning out the enemy. There were two more upstairs of no consequence, and two downstairs that didn’t matter. Savage was taking out the two downstairs. He’d leave Junk and Bridges until Steele joined him.

  “Can you check the entire floor, Ink?” Maestro asked.

  “Give me a minute.”

  They all knew it wasn’t easy on Ink, controlling wildlife. He could do it, and practiced daily, but keeping an entire flock of birds close and sending them between a child and adults as well as into a house would take its toll. Preacher and Transporter couldn’t assist him if he grew weak because they needed their rifles for insurance.

  Steele’s fingers tapped on his thigh. He was aware of seconds and then minutes slipping by. Downstairs, the screams had faded to sobs and pleas. No one, evidently, had come to the man’s aid. Most likely, Bridges and Junk were cowering together, trying to figure out how to sneak away, leaving behind their brethren to face the enemy.

  The sound of the birds’ wings was loud as they once more entered the building like the howl of the wind. They moved through the hallway, feathers brushing the walls and ceiling. They were gone and then came back, entering each room they could through broken windows. The windows had been shot out or broken by someone inside, so they could aim at the Torpedo Ink members firing at them. Most of the time when those inside shot, they were shooting at shadows, not an actual target. It was frustrating and wearing on the nerves. It seemed forever before the wind retreated and it was quiet again.

  “Second shooter in the last room facing the pool. It’s a bathroom. Tub to the left as you walk in. The toilet is all the way to the back of the room. Sink by window. He’s there, using the sink to give him height. It’s a tighter space than it looks. A couple of the birds almost didn’t make it out and when they came in through the window, they hit him repeatedly in the face. He covered up fast.”