Captured(Devil's Blaze MC 1)(83)

“And it’s not?”

“It is, but it will also be Redmond’s death.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Extra firepower.”

“What do I get in return?”

“When the time comes, I’ll let you put a bullet in him.”

“Why would I wait for you? Now that I know where he’ll be, I’ll just do it myself.”

“Because I think, if anything, Beth’s death has shown us that we will achieve more working together.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t want to work with you. Let’s get out of here, boys.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Matthew says.

“It’s mine to make. Load up, boys,” I tell my crew, turning to leave.

“Okay, fine.” Matthew sighs, giving in. “Redmond has complete power and family support. The only shot we have of taking control back is if we kill him. I need your help to accomplish that because, without my grandfather’s approval, I have very limited resources.”

“It must suck having to get approval for taking a shit,” I prod him. Matthew’s eyes flash and I know I’ve scored a direct hit.

“I’ll do this without you,” Matthew growls.

I go back to the table and lean down in front of him. I want eye contact. I want to see his reactions to what I’m about to say.

“You know what I think, Mattie-boy? I don’t think you can. I think Colin got you into some hot water trying to overthrow Redmond, and now Granddaddy has frozen your assets, which means you can’t afford a bottle of beer, let alone hire someone to help you take down your Uncle. In fact, I have to think this meeting isn’t something you arranged. I think it’s something Redmond called and has more to do with punishing you and Colin for your failed attempt at taking control.” Matthew doesn’t say anything, but I see the truth in his bitter eyes. “I think that’s also the only reason Redmond would let his guard down enough to walk into your house on these terms. He thinks he’s coming back to claim his home.” Matthew avoids my eyes, which pretty much confirms what I’ve said. I was mostly guessing, but what little intel Torch had been able to gather before our meeting made the guessing easier.

“I thought you would be more reasonable, considering I was helping you to make Redmond pay. Apparently, I overestimated you,” Matthew says, moving away from the table.

“Tell you what. I’m going to agree to this plan of yours. I’ll help you take Redmond down, but I want it written in the pig’s blood that you and your fucking brother won’t bother my crew anymore. You don’t even breathe in our territory.”

“I can agree to that.”

“So, we have a deal? I kill your Uncle, and you get control of the family again. In return, you leave me and my crew alone, forever.”

“I’ll get you the details of the meeting this week.”

“Tell me, Matthew, what would your grandfather do if he knew you were plotting to kill his only remaining son?” Matthew pales, and that’s the point I want to get across. “Fuck me over, Matthew, and he’ll know everything. Everything, because this meeting… I have it on tape.”

I pull open my cut, revealing a mic taped down and leading to the recording system.

“Let’s roll boys,” I say. “I’ll give you a week to get me the info, Matthew. Don’t make me wait,” I warn him, then leave.

Diesel was right. I do owe Beast this. Not Beth, because I’m the fucker that hurt Beth. I can’t fix that, but I can avenge my brother’s daughter, and I will. It’s the only thing keeping me moving right now.





Three Weeks Later



Three weeks, and every day is darker than the last. My light is gone. Warmth is gone. Beth is gone. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’ve held out the hope that she somehow survived. It happens in the movies, right? She was thrown from the blast, hit her head and can’t remember who she is, right? I’ll have to convince her I’m her husband, make her remember and fall in love with me again. I can handle that.

This isn’t the movies, though. All I have are memories, loneliness, and pain… so much pain, it hurts to breathe. I think I’m starting to understand what Beast is going through. Since Beth’s attack, he’s said very little, but at least he’s acknowledging us. He and I are alike. He’s blaming himself for the death of his daughter. If he hadn’t left his keys there, hadn’t fallen asleep, hadn’t gotten drunk… Oh yeah, I fucking understand him because I play that fucking what-if game a million times a day with myself. I always lose, too.