Anticipating when everything was said and done. My moment. Everything I’d been fucking waiting for, pursuing, investigating. All the sleepless nights, all the bullshit I’d gone through. Every life that had been taken.
Mine.
Noah’s.
Mia’s.
Especially Maddie’s.
It all collided together. Except this time, there was no more doubt. No more struggle. No more what ifs.
My time had come to make things right. All I ever wanted led up to this point in time. Where nothing else mattered.
But fucking revenge.
TWENTY-EIGHT
*Creed*
We walked out the back doors of the clubhouse when they were done with his confession. Pops was getting ready to light up a cigarette, smoking one last time before Damien was supposed to take him in. I didn’t think twice about it, in one swift movement I grabbed the gun from the back of my old man’s jeans and aimed it right at his head.
“The fuck you doin’?” he immediately let out.
“Damien, grab the gun he’s hidin’ in his boot.”
He obliged, pulling the handkerchief out from his suit jacket and bending over. Using it as a barrier between his hand and the gun, he grabbed ahold of the Glock. Placing it in the back of his slacks still using the handkerchief as a barrier between his skin and the gun.
“Grab that shovel over there and fuckin’ walk,” I ordered, nodding to the shovel behind my father.
He peered over at Damien, waiting for him to interfere. Say something, anything so I would lower my gun.
Damien just shrugged, putting on his sunglasses. “I have what I came for,” he let out, holding up his briefcase.
My father’s eyes widened, spewing, “You fuckin’ played me!”
“WALK!” I roared, pushing my gun into the side of his head.
His chest heaved and his nostrils flared, stepping one foot in front of the other toward the direction I demanded. Eventually figuring out where I was taking him. I followed close behind, remembering everything about that goddamn night.
How thick and suffocating the fog from the rain the day before was. The way the wind blew a cool breeze through the trees, skimming the surface of my overly heated skin. I remembered the sounds of twigs cracking beneath my boots, the noises from the birds and owls, along with whatever else fucking lurked in the woods.
Most of all, I remembered feeling so much fucking hatred for my father. Not giving Luke, his son, a proper burial. Just wanting to throw him in a field along with countless other bodies the club had taken.
I hadn’t been back there not one fucking time since the night he made me bury my brother.
Not one fucking time.
Until now.
We stopped when we stood over the exact place where his body lay buried under dirt, rocks, and God knows what else.
Nodding to him, I ordered, “Dig.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Ain’t ever been more serious about anythin’ in my fuckin’ life! Now fuckin’ dig!” I seethed, daring him to defy me.
“You gonna tell Damien over here? How you murdered your brother, huh? What? Wanna a cell by your old man? Is that it?”
“He already knows,” I simply retorted. “Don’t you see, Prez, this is all part of the plan. I give him what he wants, he gets a promotion. I get immunity for providin’ evidence to finally turn your ass in. Make sense now? All the roads comin’ together for you?”
Pops shook his head, gripping the shovel tight, grumbling something under his breath. Forcefully driving the blade into the hard ground over and over again. Heaving dirt over his shoulder while Damien and I watched. I kept my emotions in check. Trying like hell to remain calm the closer he got to digging up my brother’s grave. Until all that could be seen was a giant hole in the dirt along with the black body bag that held Luke’s remains.
“There! There’s your fuckin’ brother! Tell him how sorry you are again! Forget you’re the reason he’s in the ground?” he sadistically mocked.
“Bring him up here!” I demanded, looking only at him.
He did as he was told, placing the bag of bones next to me. “We done now? This the family reunion you wanted, Creed?” He was about to jump out from the hole, but I had other plans for him. I cocked back the chamber, making him jerk back in place. “What the fuck you think you doin’?”
“What I shoulda done a long fuckin’ time ago,” I simply stated.
He put his hands up in the air, surrendering, stepping further into the makeshift grave. “You don’t got to do this… I’m already goin’ to prison!”
“Prison is too fuckin’ good for you!”
“Damien! What the fuck?! You gonna stand there and watch him—”
“I don’t like to involve myself in family disputes. I’m not that kind of attorney. It wouldn’t be my place,” he sarcastically interrupted in his serious El Santo tone. “I already told you, I have what I came for. It doesn’t matter if I bring you in, dead or alive. I solved the case. Not to mention all the names and evidence you provided. By the way, thank you for that, but in my honest opinion…” He smiled. “Justice is always served better on the fucking streets.”
“You piece of shit!” My father spit at him, peering back at me with a vicious glare. “How the fuck is this happening? How the fuck did you even find out?!”
“That was all—”
“Me.” All eyes went to the man dressed in an expensive fucking suit, casually walking out from the woods like he just appeared out of thin air.
All the blood drained from my father’s face, immediately turning pale as if he was looking at a goddamn ghost and in a way…
El Diablo was.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Damien questioned, arching an eyebrow.
He wasn’t in on this part of the plan. I only did it for Martinez. I gained nothing with him being there.
But I owed it to him.
“I heard you were missing me. So I came just to see you,” Martinez rasped, standing beside me. Making Damien chuckle and shake his head.
“You’re… the papers… I thought… you… were dead…” Pops stuttered, still staring only at him with petrified eyes. An expression I’d never seen before.
“You can’t believe everything you read, Jameson,” Martinez relayed, grinning. “The news and the papers are always exaggerating shit.”
“Now ya scared, Prez?” I mocked, smiling. “You wanna have a little bedtime story before you go to sleep for good?”
He swallowed hard, his eyes couldn’t focus on one of us for very long before moving onto to the next.
“You see, Martinez handed me a disc, and I hid it under the mattress of my bed when I reported back to base. When Diesel went to find it, it was gone. Fast forward to a few months ago, and it miraculously showed up in your C.D. collection. Funny how that is, yeah?”
“That—”
“He texted me a photo the day of the shootout of my mother, your wife, sittin’ on another man’s lap. But you probably already knew that… seein’ as the shootout was that night. Needed to distract me, yeah? Get me away from her? Why do you think he chose that picture?”
“Creed—”
Martinez stepped forward, rendering him speechless. Crouching down in front of the makeshift grave, trying to get as close as he could to my dad’s face, wanting to look him in the eyes. “I may be a lot of things, but I don’t fuck with women and children. You know how these things go, Jameson. People talk, especially fucking criminals. There isn’t anything I don’t ever know. When I learned about your involvement, I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Seeing as it involved my niece’s friend’s daughter. And family has always come first to me. No matter what.”
“The photo was so old, it was hard to make out it was Striker’s lap she was sittin’ on, but that wasn’t what Martinez wanted me see… It was the fact that the picture was taken in Mia’s mom’s restaurant, a pigtail faintly in the background. I di
dn’t figure that out until I saw what you wanted to do with my girl… Now, the rest of the fuckin’ files you had,” I breathed out, pursing my lips and shaking my head.
“The pictures of a woman bein’ fuckin’ gunned down? Now, that! That was helluva fuckin’ surprise! Why did ya hold onto that for? Souvenirs? You sick fuck! I didn’t even realize who the woman was until I saw a written agreement on another document, statin’ you murder his wife and he’ll deliver the sex traffikn’ to you on a silver fuckin’ platter… Mind-fuckin’-blowin’! But you do have trust issues, yeah? Why else would you leave a fuckin’ paper trail? It just took one phone call to Leo, one fuckin’ call lettin’ him know I knew who killed Martinez’s mom, and the next day this motherfucker was at Diesel’s door. Not gonna lie, it took us a minute to figure it all out. To make it work so everyone would walk away satisfied. But here we are…” I paused to let it all sink in. Needing him to understand every last word that came out of my mouth.
“The question is, Prez,” I eyed him, “did you know Martinez was gettin’ close to the truth? Or did you just kill Striker cuz he was the only one who knew what really happened? Since he was there with you. Or did you just put a hole in his head cuz he was fuckin’ your wife?”
“You—”
“I asked ya a question, expectin’ a fuckin’ answer,” I interrupted my father, not wanting to hear any more of his bullshit lies.
It was the first time I had ever seen pure fear cross my father’s face, realizing that he was really going to fucking die. Never expecting it to come from the hands of his own firstborn son.
His fucking prodigy.
“Look me in the eyes, motherfucker,” Martinez ordered, leaning forward, closer to his face. He didn’t falter. “I promised my mother the day she died in my arms. The day that you and your biker trash murdered her… I would find the pieces of shit who put her there and make them pay. And as you know, Jameson. I am a man of my fucking word.”
“Ya got any last fuckin’ words, Prez?” I baited.
“Please, don’t—”
“On second thought.” Cocking my gun to the side, I locked eyes with my father for a split second. Needing him to know it was me who put him to ground. “I don’t give a fuck.” I pulled the trigger.
His brains blew out from the back of his head, splattering all over the dirt before his body fell back into the deep, dark hole with a hard, loud thud. Mimicking the sound of Luke’s body the night he just threw him in there like he was taking out the fucking trash. Time just seemed to stand still, nothing moving, including me. While Martinez and I battled our demons for a whole different set of reasons.
There was an unfamiliar feeling lingering in the air, burning into my senses. Where it would forever be etched in my skin. Except this memory would be the first one that would never, ever, fucking haunt me.
I was the first to break the silence, whispering, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and all that fuckin’ shit.”
Martinez spit in the grave before standing up, walking back over to us. Once again the cool, calm, collected man he’d always been.
“Well… that was entertaining,” Damien proclaimed, bringing our attention to him.
Martinez grinned, taking him in. “He just murdered your promotion. How the fuck you going to explain that?”
It was Damien’s turn to smirk, cocking his head to side. He pulled out Pops’ gun from the back of his slacks with the handkerchief wrapped around the grip, and aimed the barrel right into his own shoulder.
He didn’t hesitate, pulling the trigger. “Mierda!” he shouted, chucking the gun to the ground. Immediately holding onto his bullet wound while blood gushed out all over his white suit. “Murdered?” he repeated, mocking Martinez. Letting out a big, throaty laugh as more blood seeped through his fingers. “All Creed did was save my fucking life,” he simply stated. “Clean up this mess so I can call it in.” With that, he turned, walking back toward the clubhouse like nothing ever happened.
It was then I realized this man would do anything to get what he wants, including shooting himself to fucking prove it.
“Damien!” I called out after him, making him turn to face me once again. “Everyone know you’re a corrupt motherfucker?”
He arched an eyebrow, smiling. Nodding to me. “Not to anyone who matters. I’m just a fucking Saint.”
Martinez took off shortly after that, going back to whatever hole he crawled out of, with closure. Diesel showed up with all the brothers in tow. He spent the entire day at his house, showing them all the proof of what their Prez had been involved in. How much he compromised the club, our brotherhood, our fucking pack. Proving to them that he didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. They didn’t ask questions after they learned what he was trying to do with Mia. Already fully aware that what I did was necessary.
Knowing they would have done the same fucking thing had it been one of their ol’ ladies.
And we always protected our own.
As much as I wanted to bury my old man in that grave, we couldn’t. We made the scene look exactly the way Damien said it was, which didn’t take very long. The club had always been good at staging shit, it was one of the things we did best. Diesel made sure to take Luke’s remains with him so I could give him a proper burial, finally laying my brother’s soul to rest peacefully.
McGraw was one of the first people to walk into the clubhouse, followed by an endless amount of other pigs marching to his beat. Following him in line. I sat in the corner in the back of the game room and watched as he and Damien exchanged words after the ambulance had patched up his bullet wound. He took off moments later, going straight to wherever he needed to go to get everything in order for Prez’s case.
McGraw immediately made his way toward me when he was done with Damien. Before he could even say a word to me, I handed him the file of everything that had to do with Mia. I knew Damien gave him most of the rundown prior to leaving, but I just wanted to slam the nail in the fucking coffin. And have no more bullshit and animosity between us.
“Make sure you let her daddy know, yeah?”
He peered up at me through the slits of his eyes, nodding when he was done looking over the folder. “This doesn’t change the fact you’re an outlaw,” he emphasized, staring at the 1% patch on my cut.
I didn’t hesitate, ripping it off, throwing it to the floor between us. I stood. “Not anymore. Not ever again.”
He narrowed his eyes at me as I turned around, gazing at all the brothers who had just watched me resign my colors.
“I’m done wit’ this fuckin’ club. You wanna ride by a man who follows the law… then follow me out. Ya feel me?”
My father wasn’t the only one that I put to ground that day.
VP of the Devil's Rejects, Creed Jameson…
Was, too.
TWENTY-NINE
*Mia*
“How do you feel about that, Mia?” Dr. Garcia asked.
“I don’t know.”
She gave me a look that I was more than familiar with. Making me roll my eyes and take a deep breath. “I guess I just never expected my mind to flip a switch like that. I mean… Uncle Dylan said he was a free man now. I’m torn about all the stuff I learned involving their dad and me. I’d only met the man in passing a couple of times, but I was targeted by him even before that. It upsets me that I don’t even get to ask him why…”
It had been three months since their dad had been killed and I had learned the truth. My family contemplated whether to tell me or not, but it was national news. There was no hiding the truth when it was plastered all over the T.V. and newspapers. Learning the truth was harder than I’d ever imagined.
“It makes me sick to my stomach, knowing what could have happened if his plans had succeeded. Knowing I would have been sold to some sick person, most likey tortured and forced into slavery is a sombering thought. The intent behind his actions is a tough pill to swallow. Before now, I never knew such a disgusting world existed. And I almost fell
victim to it,” I paused, reining in my plaguing thoughts. My poor parents are beside themselves. My mom said that my dad tried to meet up with Creed to apologize and thank him, but hasn’t found where he’s staying. If that’s not irony, I don’t know what is. I can only imagine what Creed must be feeling. Finding all this horrible secrets and taking his own father's life must be weighing heavy on his shoulders. I know Noah is having a hard time with it. Not that his father is dead, but that he wanted to kidnap me.”
She nodded. “It’s a lot to take in. Do you feel better now that you know the truth?”
“I do.”
“You don’t sound very convincing, Mia.”
“I’m just torn.”
“With the news? Or with Creed and Noah?”
“Wow, Doc, you’re not making it easy for me today, huh?” I nervously chuckled.
“Well?”
“I know Creed was the one who technically kidnapped me, but he was just trying to protect me. I know that now. Everyone does. But the shootout, me getting shot, Maddie… that wasn’t his fault. It was his father’s. For almost a year Creed was on the run, in hiding, trying to get to the bottom of the truth. For me. That changes things, Dr. Garcia. I know I still don’t remember him, but it doesn’t change the fact that he truly was my hero this entire time. Not the villain everyone portrayed him as. He was the good guy. I never thought of him as a bad person, he just made bad things happen and bad decisions.”
“How does that make you feel? Does it tap into the memories at all?”
“Here’s the thing, it’s been over a year since I lost my memory. Every day since I woke up in that hospital, I feel like I remember something, but it doesn’t present itself to me like a memory. It’s just a feeling in my gut, deep within me. I have no idea how that even makes sense, but the feelings are getting more and more intense as time goes on. I may not remember Creed, but you were right, Doctor, he’s been right here since the beginning… in my heart. Has been since day one.”
“What about Noah?”
“I love Noah. I honestly do. That’s why I’m torn, Doc. The Mia I was in the past is madly in love with Creed, and the Mia I am now is in love with Noah. Except, learning all these things that Creed has done for me… Makes me think, this Mia, the woman I am now. Loves him too, and maybe she never stopped.”