Then I groan.

  Guess this is the part where I get over my snit and read the card.

  Meh.

  Do I really want to? Nope.

  Okay. I’m lying. You know you want me to read it, too. We both need to know what it says. Bet you care about it more than I do.

  Tossing my towel in the hamper, I pause and curse to the high heavens about men and their dickish ways. Once I’ve got that out of my system, I enter the living room and snag that stupid card from the plastic fork in my funeral flowers.

  Tapping my foot on the carpet, I take a moment, a microscopic one, to appreciate the blooms. They’re made up of Gerber daises, mostly purple and white ones. If those weren’t nice enough, there are roses in three different shades, and what you’d consider filler greens. I wish I didn’t have to admit this, but it’s beautiful. Something I’d buy for myself if I did that sort of thing. And I hate all of it. Every square, heavenly scented inch.

  Flicking a hardy bud, I glare at the thing for being too damn pretty, then roll my eyes for acting like a lunatic over flowers... Over Gunz. Over… Whatever.

  Enough already.

  I read the stupid, plain white card.

  Baby Mama,

  Roses are red. These flowers are purple. Sorry I stuck my tongue down your throat and ran away like a ... motherfucker. (No pun intended.)

  - Erik.

  Sorry.

  He’s… sorry?

  Sorry he ran away, or sorry he stuck his tongue down my throat? Or both?

  It sounds like both, doesn’t it?

  See, I told you I kiss like a fish, and this was goodbye.

  Frustrated with the world, I toss the card back into the blooms and find my phone on the nightstand beside my bed. I sit on the edge, ankles crossing, and fume as I pull up Gunz’s number to get this out once and for all. No more games. No more miscommunication. Things need to be said.

  If only he were ugly.

  Or stupid.

  Or a horrible kisser with a black heart.

  That’d make this a thousand times easier.

  Fuck men.

  Confusing bastards.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  GUNZ

  Strapped to the nines, huddled midday at the edge of the woods with a group of fellow brothers, I point to the intel on my phone, courtesy of Bongo. For once, someone else dug up what we needed for specs. It’s nice not havin’ to be the brains of every operation.

  “The hotel’s got two entrances. The main one out front and the one in the rear, through the kitchen.” I draw a circle around the spots on our aerial image for better visuals, like a doctor does an x-ray, then I look up to make sure they’re payin’ attention. Their lives could very well depend on the data.

  “It’s a shithole,” I add. “Probably got rats, mold, leaks, ceilings cavin’ in, and weak floors. Do your best to stay on the studs. We don’t need anybody gettin’ dead besides Remy’s crew.”

  “Bongo say how big the setup is?” Mickey asks.

  “It’s two stories. Fortyish rooms. Most of our visitors will be civilians here to take care of business, if ya catch my drift.” My nose wrinkles in distaste.

  “Fuckin’ disgusting,” a brother mutters under his breath.

  I nod in agreement. “We haven’t handled an operation like this before. Remy’s changin’ his tactics. Openin’ popups for a bit of local underage fun. Might have five girls in there. Might have fifty. Can’t say.”

  “The order from Big is to execute all predators, correct?” Blimp clarifies as he double-checks the clips in his guns.

  “Yep. Anyone who isn’t a victim gets dead on the spot. That means no game playing.” To get the point across, I make eye contact with the biggest sicko of the bunch. “Kade.”

  The knife twirling between his fingertips halts, and he hides the evidence behind his back as if I didn’t notice the damn thing in the first place… Or the dozens of times I’ve watched him do the exact thing before. “What?” Kade plays innocent, wearing a big, jovial smile complemented by his over-the-top eyelash batting.

  I snort, half-amused. If I didn’t like the guy, I’d give him hell about his antics. Good thing I’ve got a soft spot for Bear’s boys. He’s the president of our Texas chapter. A damn good man and leader. Kade’s one of his.

  Knowin’ he follows rules well, given he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t, I arch a single brow to lay down the law. It’s no secret Kade gets satisfaction watchin’ people die in sick-and-twisted, fucked-up ways. This operation isn’t about that. It’s death and done. No muss, no fuss. We ain’t got time for an elaborate knife circus.

  Takin’ orders without a peep, Kade dips his chin in respectful compliance. If he does a good job, I’m not opposed to lettin’ him and his old lady take a souvenir home to carve up later, off the books, after we’ve gotten everyone to safety. Who am I to rain on their parade? We’ve all got demons to tame. Some more than others.

  Positions are divvied up, to give everybody their spots to shine.

  Here’s what I know, so you’re in the loop, ’cause shit’s about to go down.

  Four days ago, I left the compound to join forces with my other Sacred Sinner brethren. At our safe house, we caught wind of two major operations over the Mississippi state line. Yesterday, we collaborated to get our asses here to shut down Remy’s newest streak of evil. The quicker we handle this, the quicker the victims are freed and sent to my brother for rehabilitation. And, honestly, the quicker we get to the next place, and the next place, and the next fucking place, to free the Janie’s and Tati’s of this vile trafficking world. A month will never be long enough to rid the earth of Remy’s scum, but I will make damn sure I put a giant dent in it. It’s the least I can do after he attacked our compound.

  No more sideline sitting. The Sacred Sinners are gonna show these motherfuckers what real war looks like.

  Stowing my phone, I pull a Dum Dum from my pocket and pop it into my maw to center myself, even for an instant. To let the world align and my thoughts remain on the task at hand. Not stray to Kit or my son. Not to the gaping hole in my chest for missing her, a woman I barely know. Of course, I don’t think of purple hair, or her scent, or the kiss I’ll remember for the rest of my days. No. I’m stronger than that. I’ve got my shit together. I’m focused.

  Blimp steps up beside me and slaps my leather-clad back. “You ready?” He juts his chin toward our destination a quarter mile up yonder. The rest of our brethren have already dispersed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Been a while since you were in the thick of things.”

  He ain’t kiddin’. “I’m good.”

  “You sure? ’Cause you got a family now.”

  “I’ve always had a family, brother,” I remind him.

  “Not like this one. Not like her. Not like him.”

  Nope. We’re not going down this path. I don’t need to hear this crap when I’ve got a job to do. “I’m good,” I emphasize, so he’ll drop it.

  Blimp chuckles and pats the holster under his cut. “’Kay, ’cause I won’t say nothin’ if you wanna hang back to keep an eye on things. Let the young bucks handle the kills.” He winks. A cocky half-smile parts his long, gangly, gray beard.

  What-the-fuck-ever.

  Snickering in return, I shake my head and follow the same route the rest took through the woods. “Come on, Blimp, killin’ is half the fun.” I wave for him to catch up.

  The pungent scent of pot drifts as he lights a joint. “This is gonna be fun.”

  Yes. It is.

  Putting sick fucks to ground is the best part of our runs, ’cause it sure ain’t leaving my woman behind.

  I wonder what she’s doin’ right now…

  Did she get the flowers I sent?

  Picturing her smile like some lovesick idiot, I stumble over a fallen branch and catch myself on a nearby tree trunk before I bite the dust.

  Blimp yucks it up at my expense. “Watch where you’re goin’, brother.”

  I flip him off.

  A blood-curdling scream echoes through the trees, gunshots trailing a moment later.

  Fuck. We’re missing the action.

  Charging through the remaining forest, Blimp at my six, my phone blows up in my pocket. I ignore it as we step over two dead bastards lying in a puddle of their own blood on the cracked asphalt parking lot.

  More screams ensue.

  Together, we kick through the front, mud-caked doors of the hotel, armed and ready for whatever’s waiting for us on the other side. It’s dark. The cloying stench of mildew and blood is a bitch on the senses. Our resident sadistic fuck, Kade, cackles his love for death somewhere in the bowels of this hell.

  Staying close, Blimp obeys my hand signals as we hunt the sexual predators like a well-oiled machine. This ain’t our first rodeo.

  The first closed door we reach, I gesture for Blimp to cover me as I kick in the rusted handle. It caves easily, and wouldn’t ya know it, a man stops mid-pump to look over his shoulder at us. Rays of sunshine filter through the cracks in the boarded windows as the monster’s glassy eyes land on mine.

  Pop.

  A single bullet barrels through his skull. Blood sprays the wall like a modern art piece.

  Sayonara, asshole.

  The lifeless man drops to the side, landing half on top of what appears to be a younger female. I’ll spare you the gory details as I shove his fat, hairy form off the girl and cover her with an old, disgusting sheet I find on the floor next to the bed. Her eyes are closed, her body deathly still as I check for a pulse on the side of her throat.

  Alive.

  A sigh of relief escapes me as I notice raw track marks littering both of her forearms.

  My jaw clenches and I turn to Blimp.

  “One down,” he growls, his gaze flipping between me and the open doorway. “She’s gonna be fine. Next one’s mine.”

  A nod is all I offer.

  Shit just got real.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  KIT

  Foot bouncing, I chew on the side of my thumbnail, impatiently waiting for a reply. It’s been hours and not a peep from the father of my son. No explanation for the flowers. No middle finger emojis. Silence. It’s eerie. Something doesn’t feel right.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as a diesel truck revs its engine nearby. An unusual sickness roils in my gut.

  Staring blankly at the computer screen resting on the cushion beside me, I toss a purple throw over my thighs.

  Call it Mom Intuition or crazy town. Either way, the world isn’t normal.

  The longer I sit in limbo… waiting… waiting… waiting… the urge to call the jail and check on Adam grows.

  I check my phone for the hundredth time.

  No Gunz.

  The clock on the screen reads just past ten p.m.

  Streetlights and a bright evening sky casts a low glow across my gauzy curtains. I watch the shadow of a spider spinning a web on the opposite side of the windowpane. Too antsy to sit still, I pick a flower from the funeral arrangement on the coffee table—a rose. One by one, I pluck silky pedals from their home and discard them onto the floor to clean up later. I can’t eat. Can’t sleep. Work eludes me, even if I have papers to grade.

  The white noise of the refrigerator does little to calm my rising… whatever this is.

  What if the texts I sent threw Gunz off? Were they too brash? Did I push him away? Will Adam ever forgive me if I did?

  Dammit.

  Why isn’t he texting back?

  He sent flowers.

  Flowers. For. Me.

  The stupid card stares at me in infamy from the bouquet.

  I glower at the scrawl of his words. I’ve already memorized the poem. It wasn’t difficult.

  Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I know what you’re thinking, I’m thinking it too… Pathetic. What kind of grown-ass woman acts this way? Me. Apparently.

  A muffler backfires close by, sending my nerves into a tizzy.

  Maybe I need a drink. Something to calm me—tea. The sleepy kind. Something with chamomile. Yes. Tea. That should do it. No more of this waiting. Tea, then sleep. Tea… then sleep. Brilliant!

  Not bothered by the current, not-so-clean state of my apartment, I dump the throw onto the floor with the petals. I’ll worry about that tomorrow.

  In the kitchen, I pull out my favorite mom mug and a random chamomile-flavored tea from the cupboard. I don’t bother reading the labels, as they all taste good to me. I’m not picky. As I heat tap water in the microwave, I resist the urge to grab my phone and check it… again.

  Lame.

  Beyond lame.

  Why do we women do this to ourselves? Obsessing over something dumb. Logically, I get I shouldn’t care. If he wants to be in our lives, he will be. It’s that simple. Yet, I can’t shake this feeling, no matter how hard I try.

  The microwave dings its completion just as a series of knocks rattle my door.

  One. Two. Three.

  “Hello?” I call as I retrieve my mug, set it on the counter, and drop a tea bag into the steaming liquid.

  Nobody replies.

  Two more knocks—an ominous racket compared to the quiet of the room.

  “Yes?” I speak louder.

  Silence.

  Leaving the chamomile to steep, I approach the entrance.

  Knock. Knock. Knock—slow and steady.

  Knock. A definitive finale.

  I poise my hand on the knob and lift onto my toes to glance through the peephole. A shadow passes, yet I make nothing out.

  “Hello?” I try one last time.

  “Ma’am?”

  A sigh of relief deflates the tension in my shoulders as I recognize the voice—my neighbor.

  Unlocking the door to see if something is wrong, I open my mouth to ask as much, when a bloodied face comes into view. Rivulets of crimson pour down his battered face, soaking into the white of his shirt.

  My eyes widen. “Oh. My. God. Are you okay?!”

  Only he’s not.

  His entire body free falls into my door, knocking it wide open as he collapses to the floor inside my apartment.

  I don’t…

  What… the…

  “It’s like takin’ candy from a baby,” a familiar voice cackles like a villain.

  Then… darkness.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  GUNZ

  Kneeling at the end of a cot, I rest a tiny, purple teddy bear upright on a little girl’s legs. She couldn’t be any older than eight, maybe nine. We found five women and children dead in the hotel we raided today. Fucking five. Violated, bruised, and dead. With nobody to hold them and tell them they were gonna be okay. Not like this shaky kid with brown, matted hair. The unfortunate thing looks at me with big green eyes and back to the bear, no doubt checking to see if I’m playing some sick-and-twisted game.

  To prove I’m not a threat, I get down on both knees and sit back. Ain’t none of us here gonna harm her or any of the survivors. Twelve were saved from the shithole. It’s a start. Not good enough, but better than nothing.

  Ten tiny fingers wring together as she overthinks about the stuffed present I’ve brought. Does she want it? Should she? What’s the catch? I get it. My childhood might not have been the same, but you question everyone and everything when you’ve been abused. A big, bald, biker dude with tattoos sitting at the end of your bed isn’t the most comforting. It will be, though. She’ll learn soon enough. They all do. It takes time to earn trust.

  “Go on.” I lift my chin. “All yours, kid. You’re safe now.”

  With a single glance over me and the room full of those we saved, she then watches my brothers mill about, handing out blankets, food, and clothes to the others. Our safe house tonight was a godsend. A friend of Bulk’s old lady opened her outdated farmhouse to us, no questions asked. It’s big enough to hold everyone for the night, before my brother Bonez finds stable homes for these women and children tomorrow.

  The girl’s nose twitches in distaste when she spies Blimp and his ugly beard carrying an armful of juice boxes out from the kitchen.

  “He’s not the best lookin’, huh?” I snicker.

  The tiniest grin forms at the crook of her mouth and vanishes a moment later. It’s fucking beautiful. I’ll take what I can get.

  Rounding the room, Blimp offers juice to the survivors. The girl grows antsier the closer he gets, clawing at the blanket on her lap. I wave for him to skip her cot when he delivers a box to her neighbor. A look of understanding exchanges between us as he passes by. Blimp knows the drill. Some kids are more comfortable with certain people. Seems I’m one of those people. Most take to me easily enough. Not sure why. Probably the same reason I bonded with Bink so young and why Janie was happy to live with me. I’m the levelheaded asshole of the bunch, go figure. Well, most of the time.

  Once my brother lumbers into the next room, the kid visibly relaxes, and that’s when it happens… she takes the bear. Crushing it to her chest, she sighs. It’s a content sort of sound. Exactly what I needed to hear after a long, gory day. Four men got dead by my hand in the hotel, all of them scum of the earth, not fit to breathe the same air as me. The Devil better have himself a hay-fuckin-day with those bastards—tie ‘em up and let ‘em burn for eternity.

  Not botherin’ with hello, my blood brother joins me at the end of the girls’ bed, kneeling as I do on the scarred hardwood. She takes one look at him and then continues to play with the bear. It ain’t hard to see we’re related. Kids in school often confused us ‘til he beefed up.

  “How’s it goin’?” he asks, knocking a shoulder with mine.

  “Fine.”

  I know what he wants—information—on Kit and Adam. Someone let the news slip of the kid and his mother. I haven’t told my brother about them yet. Wasn’t planning on it ‘til I was ready. I’m still not ready. It’s bad enough I ignored her texts all day. Haven’t read a single one on account of what they might say. Don’t think I’m ready to know. But this damn phone sure is burnin’ a hole in my back pocket.