All gunfire ceased as the final Grimm brother sprayed gravel and shot out of the mountain pass. Following would be useless. Snake had too much of a lead, and they’d just end up in another firefight if they caught up to the Grimms.
“Three Grimms are down!”
Jester sprang out from behind the van and joined Striker and Acer, jogging toward the fallen bodies. Two Grimm Brothers lie motionless in the dirt, and a third, Johnny, gasped and writhed on the ground.
Blood poured from a wound in the younger man’s shoulder. Given the condition he’d been in before he was shot, his chance of survival couldn’t be good. Jester tried to care, but it didn’t happen. Whoever the hell Johnny was, he was the reason Emily was involved with Snake.
Acer dropped to his knees and yanked his shirt over his head. With steady hands, he balled the fabric up and pressed it to the kid’s shoulder using enough force to draw a cry from his bruised lips.
Jester squatted down and pressed the business end of his pistol to the center of the kid’s forehead. Johnny looked him square in the eye, earning a tiny fraction of Jester’s respect. “You want me to let him save you?”
The kid nodded.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Johnny.” His voice was raspy, a ragged whisper.
“I know that much. You fucking Emily?”
Despite what had to be excruciating pain and despite the fact that the kid had about three drops of blood left in his body, he let out a bitter laugh followed by a groan. “Don’t know what goes on in your freaky family, but no, I’m not fucking my sister.”
Familiar pale eyes held his gaze. Not quite as light as Emily’s, but bearing a strong resemblance. The weight of his mistake crashed on Jester as heavy as an icy avalanche. His heart cracked wide open and bled far worse than Johnny’s shoulder.
One minute.
If he’d given her one minute to explain what happened, she’d be safe and secure, waiting for him and Johnny at the clubhouse.
Instead he chose not to trust her, not to believe that she could love him.
“Fuck!” He paced away from Johnny. Helpless was not something that Jester tolerated. He’d do whatever it took to get Emily back, or die trying. His brothers would take care of her if something happened to him. He had no doubt about that.
If he did rescue her, he’d spend the rest of his life making up for this mistake. And if she told him to fuck off—which she’d have every right to—he’d find some way to make peace with it. As long as Snake didn’t harm her, Jester would live with a broken heart if he had to.
He stomped back to Johnny and knelt, returning the pistol to his head. “You’re going to agree to three things or Acer here will walk away and let you bleed out.”
Acer and Striker exchanged a wary look, but Jester ignored their unease. He would suffer the guilt over his treatment of Emily as long as he lived, but the greatest burden of blame still landed on Johnny.
“Who are you?” Johnny whispered.
“I’m your angel. Whether I’m your angel of death or angel of mercy is up to you. One. Rehab, cold turkey, I don’t give a shit, but you’re done with whatever your poison is. You will not get another chance. I catch even the slightest whiff that you may be high, and you’re done. Say yes.”
Johnny turned a bit green but nodded, keeping eye contact with Jester. “Yes.” His voice grew weaker by the second.
“Two. You come in contact with any of the Grimm Brothers in any way and you’re done.”
Johnny nodded again.
“And three.” Jester leaned in close, the barrel of his gun steady between Johnny’s eyes. He spoke in a low tone his brothers wouldn’t overhear. “I see one tear fall down Emily’s beautiful face because of something you do to her, and you’re done. Your life’s not worth a tenth of hers.”
“Fair enough.” Johnny coughed and groaned when the hacking racked his body.
“Now tell me where the fuck they may have taken her and we’ll get you to Striker’s woman for some help.”
“They got a house.” He paused and sucked in a whistled breath. “Shitty neighborhood, last house on the block.” Johnny coughed and moaned, trying to hold his hands to his ribs.
Jester resisted the urge to shake him and scream at him to speak faster. He wanted to crawl out of his skin. Every second it took Johnny to get the information out was one more second Emily spent with Snake.
When he calmed, Johnny continued. “Wren Court. Only three other houses, all abandoned.”
Jester stood. That’s all they needed to find it. He whipped out his phone as he strode toward his bike.
“Whoa. What the fuck you think you’re doing, brother?” Striker cut him off, got in his face.
Jester growled at him. “VP, get out of my way.”
Striker ignored him. “Jester, you can’t hop on your bike and ride out there like a Harley fuckin’ cowboy. You got one pistol and you need back up.”
He shook his head and tried to shove past Striker. Fuck that. He’d be just fine.
“I’m not askin’, brother. We do this smart, go back to the clubhouse and reload. I promise we won’t waste time. The Grimms are pissed we got their money and they’ll be on the warpath. They’re loading Johnny now, and I sent Acer ahead to do whatever the fuck he does with those satellite feeds. We need to be prepared.”
Shit. Striker was right. Hard as it was to delay, they needed a solid plan, and more artillery.
“Fine. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
He pushed past Striker and mounted his bike. “Wait, VP, did you say we got their money?”
Striker barked out a laugh and pointed across the sand. The Grimm’s van was still parked there, four deflated tires rendering it useless.
“Holy shit,” Jester muttered. He’d been so consumed with thoughts of Emily he hadn’t noticed the van. “How?”
“Hook shot out all four tires. Grimms couldn’t drive it out, so they abandoned it.”
Jester smiled for the first time in hours. At least one thing went right today. The grin only lasted a fraction of a second as he fired up his bike and shot off toward the clubhouse.
~ ~ ~ ~
Drip. Ninety-eight.
Drip. Ninety-nine.
Emily huddled in the corner of a dark basement and counted drops of water as they fell from a rusted pipe to a small puddle a foot away from her. The mindless activity was a poor attempt at distracting herself from the unbearable pain deep in her soul.
Every muscle in her body ached from being slammed against the bed of the pickup truck. When the bullets started flying, Snake literally threw her in the truck. She’d fought like a wild animal until he slapped her face hard enough to rattle her brain. Since then it was easier to stare straight ahead, not reacting to anything that happened.
They drove her…somewhere, and tossed her in the basement before they ran off hollering about their stolen money.
A small part of Emily’s brain screamed at her to get up. To look for a way out. To be prepared to fight for her life when they returned.
But she didn’t move.
What was the point? Johnny was dead. The only person in this world who—despite his many faults—loved her. Not only was he dead, but he died because of her failings. Guilt, remorse, and regret would be her constant companions from here on out.
Then there was Jester. Jester, who’d stood expressionless while she pleaded for his life. Jester, who believed she’d used and betrayed him. Jester, who she loved.
Tears slid down her cheeks, but the energy to lift a hand and swipe them away wasn’t there. Everything she cared about had been taken from her. Nothing remained of the life she had before Snake, and nothing of the life she’d come to want since him. Nothing but pain and sorrow.
Nausea rose swift and fierce as an inconceivable thought forced its way into her mind.
Was Jester even alive?
She pitched forward, onto all fours, and retched, painful spasms gripping her stomach. She hadn’t eaten since the day before, so there wasn’t anything to come up, but that didn’t stop her body from trying. When the worst was over she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
She didn’t deserve to have it answered, but she sent up a prayer anyway, asking for Jester’s life to be spared and for some small relief from the pain in her heart.