Ransom (Dead Man's Ink Series Book 3) (20 page)

“Fucking shit,” she spits. “I tortured you for three days. I lost my temper and tried to pin something shitty on you. You’ve locked me away for
months
. I haven’t seen daylight in…in…”

She clearly has no idea how long it’s been. “You had people
killed
, Mother. Innocent people. You know how he feels about that.”

She’s silent for a moment. “We’re people who kill people, Cade. That’s who we are. You know this. When I die, the lord will judge me for my sins. He’ll weigh the acts of my life and I will have to settle the balance. Until then, I can only be who I am. Who I was
made
to be.”
 

Everything goes silent. She doesn’t say another word. I stand there in front of her door for a moment, her words ringing in my ears. I can still hear them repeating over and over again as I finally walk away.
 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SOPHIA

I wake up in the morning, and a light, fluttering sensation is dancing in my stomach—the same kind of feeling I used to get every year when I woke up on Christmas morning and I could hear Mom and Dad moving about downstairs, organizing our presents and making breakfast. It should be a good feeling, an
excited
feeling, but today it’s not. I’m scared out of my mind. Today, we’re attempting to rescue my father from Ramirez’s farmhouse, and I have no idea if we’re going to be successful. He might end up getting killed in the process. Hell, all of us might end up getting killed in the process. I fucking hate that we’re having to use Julio Perez to distract Hector, and I especially hate the fact that his right hand guy, Andreas, came back with us yesterday.
 

The man is disgusting—an evil pig almost as abhorrent and revolting as Raphael Dela Vega was. They were cut from the same cloth at birth; I have no doubt in my mind that Andreas is a nasty piece of work, and that we can’t trust him as far as we can throw him.
 

I turn to wake Jamie up, but I find the other half of the bed empty when I roll over. I didn’t hear him get up; god knows how long he’s been gone for, or how long I’ve slept in for, but for some reason I feel like I’ve been alone here for a long time. Hours, at least. I was exhausted yesterday when we got back to the compound. Every single muscle in my body ached. When we got home and tumbled into bed, Jamie offered me a massage, winking, promising me much more than that, but I’d been too tired and sore to even take him up on the offer.
 

I climb out of bed and do a quick recon of the cabin, looking to make sure Jamie’s not in the bathroom or passed out on the couch for some reason, but he’s not. The clock on the wall reads nine thirty-eight am. Jeez… We went to bed late, well after midnight, but I think this is the first time I’ve come close to getting eight hours sleep in month. Jamie must have had someone else pick up the prospect’s chores this morning. I’m sure a riot nearly broke out amongst the other club members—
why the hell should Sophia get preferential treatment, just because she’s your girlfriend?
—but I can also imagine the look Jamie will have had on his face should anyone have dared say this, and how quickly they will then have shut their mouths.

I shower and head down to the clubhouse, my skin prickling when I see there are more cars lined up alongside the Humvee Andreas drove in last night. That means Julio is here, no doubt. The guy insisted on breaking up the drive from Cali to New Mexico on account of his considerable size and how uncomfortable it would be to sit for so long without moving around. It actually bought us some breathing space, though. Inviting a cartel boss into your home is sometimes a good way to do business. Sometimes, it’s death wish.
 

Loud chatter and raucous laughter spills out of the clubhouse when the door swings open and Shay comes barreling out of the building, just before my hand reaches the handle. She almost careens into me, her expression thunderous and angry, her lips compressed into a straight white line.
 

“Oh look, it’s Sleeping Beauty,” she snaps. “What time do you call—” She stops short of whatever she was about to say, her eyes wide, staring down at something on the ground. “What the
fuck
?” she whispers. I look for whatever is freaking her out so much, but Shay grabs hold of me by the wrist and raises my arm, a deep frown etched into her face. “What the fuck is
this
?” she says.

I finally realize what she’s seen, and heat floods my cheeks: the ring. Jamie’s mom’s ring is still sitting on my left hand, shining in the morning light, and Shay is staring at it like it’s the most offensive thing she’s ever seen.
 

“Shay—”

She digs her fingernails into my skin. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Yes.” I’m not going to lie to the woman. My relationship with Jamie is none of her fucking business. And the fact that I’m now engaged to him really isn’t either. I should tell her to mind her own damn business, but there’s no point. She’s not stupid, and she would never leave me alone until I told her the truth. Her eyes look like they’re welling up with tears. She opens her mouth to say something to me, but then her gaze grows distant over my shoulder and her jaw snaps shut. I nearly topple over as she barges by me, muttering under her breath.
 

“Christ, Shay, what the hell is wrong with you?” I spin around, angry enough to chase after her and confront her, but then I see Jamie walking toward me, alone, and I realize why Shay bolted. She’s hardly going to be rude to me if he’s there. He won’t tolerate her being shitty to me, even though I can handle Shay along with anyone else just fine these days. He’s wearing his d
on’t-fuck-with-me
, face as he arrives next to me.
 

“What was that about?”

“She saw the ring,” I tell him.
 

“Fuck. The last thing we need today is for her to start causing problems. You okay?” He folds his arms around me, hugging me gently, and he smells of soap and clean clothes. I breathe in, pulling him into my lungs, trying to hold onto this moment a few seconds longer before we have to deal with anything else.

“I’m fine. I just forgot it was there to be honest.”

“Gee.
Great
.”

I bite down lightly on his pec through his t-shirt. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just…it’s strange that we made this huge decision three days ago and no one else has known about it until now. It kind of felt like it was a secret. Like we shouldn’t be talking about it or something.”

He leans back, looking down at me. “Do you want it to be a secret?”

“No. No, I don’t.”

“Good. After this shit today is over, we’ll celebrate properly. I have a bottle of scotch in the back with your name written all over it.”

I smile, thankful that he seems so sure we’ll still have something to celebrate after our run in with Ramirez is through. So many things could go wrong. There’s every chance we’ll be coming back here later empty-handed. It doesn’t bear thinking about. My father doesn’t deserve this. He lost his youngest daughter, has probably thought she’s dead for the past little while, and now he’s been kidnapped and dragged across three states through no fault of his own.
 

This is all my fault.
 

I had a choice back in Ebony Briar, back when Jamie told me I could leave and go home to my family, and I did something very cruel. At the time I thought I was doing the right thing. It seemed noble to remain behind and help the Widow Makers bring Ramirez to justice, but after a while I began to see how that wasn’t the case at all. Jamie and the rest of the club are resourceful people. They would have found a way to right the wrong that had been done, regardless of whether I was there or not. I chose to stay at that point because I had fallen in love. I chose to stay because leaving seemed impossible, because I would have been leaving my heart behind.
 

Now I have to fix this. I have to make sure Dad gets home safely to the family he has left, and I have to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. “Is Julio here?” I ask.
 

Jamie nods. “Yeah. He’s leaving after six tonight. Ramirez has had people out all night, setting explosives down the driveway toward the farmhouse. Looks like he plans on blowing a hole in the damn place if Julio pulls any stunts. We’re going to have to approach over the fields to the rear of the property, and we’re going to have to wait until dark.”

“I didn’t think Ramirez would be laying charges.” This is worrying news, though Jamie doesn’t seem all too fazed by it. He runs a hand over my hair, kissing my temple.
 

“It’s all good, sugar. We have plenty of explosives of our own.”

******

The day drags unbearably. I can’t help but feel like Ramirez is probably onto us, expecting us to pull a stunt like this with Julio in town. Cade hides Julio’s numerous vehicles out in the desert, so none of Ramirez’s men can spy them from a distance sitting right there in our compound. Perez and his men lounge around in the club house, complaining about the domestic beer Fatty keeps serving them. They must have had five drinks each before Cade politely suggests that they grow the fuck up and get their heads straight for what’s about to go down. Andreas looks like he’s on the verge of jumping out of his seat and starting a brawl, but Julio yells at him in Spanish and his right hand man begrudgingly sits back down.
 

They’re halfway to sober by the time six o’clock rolls around and it’s time for them to leave. Jamie briefs the rest of the Widow Makers, choosing a team to go with him on the run—Cade, naturally. Keeler. Carnie. And
me
.
 

There was no way on earth I was staying behind on this one. No way in hell. I was preparing for a heated, violent argument about me coming along, but then Jamie goes and surprises me by calling out my name anyway.

“Are you serious?” I ask. “You want me to come?”

He nods sternly. “You made it pretty clear that drugging you really isn’t an option anymore. And I know if I leave you behind here, you’re only going to wait until we’re gone and then follow us. Better if I have you by my side, where I can see you and keep you safe.”

“This is fucking bullshit!” At the back of the clubhouse, Shay rockets to her feet. “I’ve been a member of this club for nearly six years now. I’m one of the best marksmen the club has, and I can fight just as well as anyone else. Why the fuck haven’t I been called up?”

Jamie sighs heavily. “This is going to be like neurosurgery, Shay. You don’t do precision work with a hammer. You do it with tweezers and a microscope. If we go charging in there with a huge team of people, our cover will be blown immediately. We can’t afford to risk that.”

She shoots daggers at him, folding her arms across her chest. “Seems to me we’re taking a lot of risks these days. And all for the wrong reasons. What happened to helping the girls, huh? What happened to finding Cade’s sister? Seems to me, the club’s purpose has had a shift in direction over the past few months, and none of us were told about it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means the Widow Makers are nothing more than your hired help these days. You only call on us when you want us to protect her,” she says, stabbing a finger at me. “And now here we are, working with the Mexicans to go save
her
father. She has nothing to do with this club, Rebel. She’s not one of us. Why the hell should we be endangering
our
lives to fix her problems?”

Jamie’s furious. I’m furious, too, but nowhere near as outraged as he is. I can practically see the steam blowing from his ears. The thing about Jamie when he’s angry is that he doesn’t blow up or start screaming and shouting. He gets quiet, his movements more precise, his voice clipped and tight. All three of those things are happening now as he says, “You’re not going to be risking anything, Shay, because I didn’t call you up. And in case you missed it, Sophia
is
one of us. She’s a prospect. When she’s outside the walls of this compound, she’s wearing the same cut you wore when you prospected for us. We’ve been here before, haven’t we? I’ll tell you what I told you six months ago. If you don’t like the way things are being run, feel free to leave at any point. And feel free to leave your ink behind at the same goddamn time.”

I didn’t know what he meant the last time I heard Jamie tell Shay she could leave her ink, but I do now. You can’t just walk out on the club. Joining is a commitment and a responsibility. It’s something you have to take seriously, which is why the prospecting period is so long, aside from the fact that the other members need time to work out if you’re going to be a liability or not. So wanting to leave is a big deal. Shay will need to have the Widow Makers club emblem scoured from her back with fire or acid if she wants to pack up her shit and go. Some people try and cover the huge back piece with something else, but the work is never good enough; if that’s the route you want to go down, Jamie and Cade have to inspect the new ink, and nine times out of ten it won’t be acceptable. The club’s banner will still be all too clear, and they’ll take your skin anyway.
 

On the other side of the clubhouse, leaning against the bar, Julio starts to laugh. “Trouble in paradise, my friend? You can say whatever you like about my operation. My men aren’t dumb enough to question
me
like that. It would mean death for them, and they know it. Bad business, letting women play at big boy games. Haven’t I told you this before?”

Jamie doesn’t respond. He’s too busy burning holes in Shay’s head. “Do we have a serious problem here, or can we get on with the task at hand?” he demands.
 

“Whatever.” She turns her back on him. “Get on with your precious task at hand. I’ll be right here when you get back.” Sarcasm drips from her voice. She’s not happy, but then when is she ever? Cade shakes his head, rubbing his hands at his temples. The other members of the club are all looking to Jamie, waiting for him to tell them what to do next. Julio, Andreas and the rest of the Mexican crew file out of the clubhouse, all of them still smirking at the discord they just witnessed.
 

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