'Til Death - Part 2 Page 7
I look up to see Marcus kneeling in front of me. I turn away from the brown eyes that once meant so much to me.
“There’s a flight in just over an hour.”
I nod briskly.
“You’ll get there.”
I close my eyes and remain that way. The minutes tick by and when my flight is finally called, I stand without acknowledging Marcus and go through the gates. He calls my name, but I don’t turn back. I only have one thing on my mind.
Getting home to my mother.
~*~*~*~
“No,” I scream, falling to my knees.
“I’m so sorry, Katia,” Dad croaks. “She held on.”
“When?” I rasp. “When?”
“Fifteen minutes ago.”
Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. I missed her by fifteen minutes. I missed the person who has been with me my entire life dying by fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes that could have been saved if Marcus hadn’t caused me to miss my flight. He didn’t let me on that plane; if I had have gotten on that plane, I’d have seen her. I’d have been able to tell her I loved her.
Marcus took something else from me.
“This can’t be real,” I croak, dropping my head.
My father’s arms go around me. “I’m so sorry.”
“I left her, if I didn’t go . . .”
“Don’t. You couldn’t have changed this.”
“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” I whisper hoarsely. “She died without knowing I loved her.”
“Baby,” Dad rasps. “She knew. I promise you she knew.”
“I wasn’t here,” I yell, but my voice breaks off halfway through.
My father pulls me into his arms and I break into pieces. My mother was my everything. She fought for my every breath, and I left her. I left her to fix something with someone who couldn’t care less about me. He stopped me from going to her. He stopped me from getting to tell her one last time just how much she meant.
The last piece of Katia I was holding onto snaps, and I drown in a pit of my own darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MARCUS
Her mom is dead.
Her mom is dead.
It’s my fault.
I was so wrapped up in my need to not let her go again that I didn’t realize I was holding her back from being with the one person who mattered to her. I kept her from saying goodbye to her mother. I kept her from those last, precious moments.
The pain in my heart is undeniable.
I took away her goodbye.
~*~*~*~
KATIA
Two weeks later
“She’s not coping.”
I stare out my window, listening to them all talk about me as if I’m not here. As if I’m just a ghost. Maybe I am. I no longer feel. Bitterness is lodged deep into my soul, and all I want to do is rip it out just to ease the pain. Marcus Tandem stopped me from going to my mother; he took the last precious moments of her life away. Now he has to pay.
It’s all I can think about. It consumes me day and night. Mixed with my grief is a brutal rage to make him suffer. I need to see him on his knees, begging for his life. I need to make him suffer, to make him feel so much pain he can’t cope. He took everything from me and he’s just walking around like nothing has ever hurt him.
“She’s not cried. She’s just sitting there, breaking.”
I’m snapped back to the here and now with Candy’s sad, worried voice. I don’t know why they’re worrying. I’m dealing. I’m coping. I’m doing what I have to do. I went back, I packed our things and moved into this house with Dad and Ford. I smile for Penny. I force myself to function every, single day. What more do they want from me?
“She needs time.”
That was my father.
“She needs help.”
That was Ford.
I close my eyes. I don’t need help. I need revenge. I need to tear Marcus’s world apart. I need to make him burn the way he let me burn.
“How’s things?” Wyatt asks, clearly coming into the conversation.
“Fine,” my father mutters. “What’s that?”
“Mail, redirected. It’s for Katia.”
“I’ll take it to her,” Dusty offers.
I hear his footsteps and a moment later, my door creaks open. I don’t turn. He walks in and clears his throat. I still don’t turn.
“Mail for you, sweetheart. I’ll just put it here.”
I hear him throw it down with a deep, defeated sigh, and then the door closes. I get up numbly and turn, walking over to the mail. Probably bills. My father paid for the funeral, but that doesn’t take away all the other bills that have accumulated over time. I flick through some of the letters, and stop when I see one from a life insurance place.
I tear it open and stare down at the words. It’s an update on our policy now my mom is gone. She was listed as one of the beneficiaries if Marcus or I were to die. Now she’s passed, they want an update. I stare down at the policy. I know we did it, but I forgot all about it. My eyes scan the words and I gasp when I see the amount I would receive if Marcus passed.
Five million dollars.
Five. Million. Dollars.
My bitter heart clenches, my hate for him running so deep it consumes me. He has to pay. He ruined my life. He took my mother away from me. He doesn’t deserve to remain. If he dies, I’ll get that money. I’ll be able to give Penny a life without heartache. I’ll have something to breathe for again.
I press the letter to my chest. I feel nothing. No guilt. No agony. No pain. No emotion. It’s all gone. I’m completely numb. I reach down for my phone and I’m doing something before I even realize it. I’m dialing Jaylah, a girl I met when I was with Marcus. A girl who is connected to Mack, a member of the Jokers’ Wrath MC.
These people could give me the information I want. Information to allow me to do this clean, without any chance of backlash.
Information on a hitman.
A hitman to take out my husband.
~*~*~*~
“It’s been a long time, Katia,” Mack says, staring at me.
“I’m home,” I say cheerfully. It’s the most fake I’ve ever been in my life. “It’s been a rough time.”
“Marcus is beside himself looking for you.”
I flinch, but I hope he doesn’t notice. “I need time. I’ll talk to him when I’ve had the chance to process.”
He nods, studying me for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Jaylah will be back soon.”
“Right, thanks. How have things been?”
He shrugs. “Fine.”
“How’re the boys?”
He smiles now. I understand that. The love for a child. It’s the most powerful emotion there is. Mack and Jaylah have two kids, Diesel and Jack. They’re gorgeous boys. “They’re doin’ really well.”
I force a smile. “I’m glad. How are things in the club?”
He narrows his eyes. “Can’t talk about that.”
“Of course, sorry.”
We sit awkwardly for a moment, and then the door swings open and Jaylah enters. She smiles at me, and rushes forward, hugging me close. I hug her back, but once again I feel nothing. I want to feel something. I want to be happy, or sad, or even angry. But there’s nothing but emptiness.
“I’m so glad to see you. How are you?” she asks, flashing Mack a smile as he leaves.
“I’m doing okay.”
“I’m so sorry about your mom,” she whispers.
I nod, staring at the wall for a moment. “I have a question. It’s a rather odd question but . . .”
She sits beside me. “What is it?”
“I was wondering . . .” God, how am I going to put this? “If Mack or one of the club members would have information about”—I swallow—“hiring a hitman.”
Jaylah gasps. “Katia, why would you need to know? God, is it for Marcus?”
“Of course not,” I cry, actually sounding offended by that. “It’s . . . I have an old ex.” God, I’m a liar. “He’
s dangerous, Jaylah. Really dangerous. The reason we broke up was because he, well, he tried to beat me. Recently, he’s been back in my life and he won’t leave. I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me if he gets too close.”
“So tell Marcus.”
“I can’t do that,” I whisper. “Right now, I can’t face him.”
“Katia, you don’t want to be messing around with hitmen. It’s dangerous.”
She’s not going to break.
God damn it.
“You’re right,” I say, standing. “I’m so sorry. It was a stupid question.”
She studies me. “Did you want me to talk to Mack, see if he can help with this ex?”
“Sure,” I mutter.
Let him help with the non-existent ex.
“Katia, are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod, forcing another smile. She can see right through me. I need to get out of here. “I have to get going. Thanks for your help.”
I rush out before she has the chance to speak again. Damn it. I’m going to have to go deeper. Right into the bowels of the criminal world. I hurry to my car, avoiding the suspicious stares of Maddox, Mack and Krypt. I speed off.
Back to square one.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MARCUS
My hands tremble with rage as I listen to Mack.
“She asked Jaylah about a hitman?”
“Yeah, bro,” he mutters. “Not sure what it was all about. She swore she had an ex who was bothering her.”
“Yeah,” I growl. “That ex would be me.”
“Said it wasn’t,” he says, though I can tell he doesn’t believe it. “Said it was for an old ex.”
“She’s lying, Mack. You and I both know she has enough reason to want to take me out.”
“This is Katia we’re talking about.” He sighs. “Why the fuck would she want to hurt you? She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Have you ever had someone in your life you couldn’t breathe without?”
Mack sighs deeply. “Yeah.”
“Her mom was that someone. She was the only reason Katia fought so hard. I held her back. If I didn’t stop her at that airport . . .”
“She still might not have made it in time,” he cuts me off. “Fuck, dude, you can’t blame yourself. It’s not like you knew.”
“Tell her that.”
“I’m looking into it further, going to find out as much as I can. Until then . . . stay safe.”
Fuck. Me.
My wife is trying to kill me.
She might as well rip my heart out with a knife. It would be kinder.
~*~*~*~
KATIA
I stare at the large compound surrounded by a barbed wire fence. Inside there are two massive warehouses, and out front, a line up of bikes for a mile. I close my eyes, my hands shaking. These are the only people I could think of who would help me. They’re bikers. They’re known to be bad-ass and ruthless, and they’re not going to tell anyone. It’s cliché; I know that, coming to a biker lot. It’s the only place I could think of that made sense right now.
“Oi!”
I flinch and turn to see a huge, burly man storming towards the gate.
“You fuckin’ lost?” he asks.
I swallow, straightening my shoulders and pushing my fear back into the darkness. “I’m here to see the president.”
He cocks a grey brow. “Who the fuck are you? His pussy? Never seen you ’round here before.”
God.
“I, ah, I need his help.”
He narrows his eyes. “You a fuckin’ cop?”
“No.”
He swings the gate open, reaches out and hurls me in. Suddenly I’m slammed against it, my face pressing into the wire. His hands start running up and down my body. I close my eyes, waiting for it to end but not really feeling anything. I have no emotion right now; everything is just a big fucking blank space.
I’m not even sure I’d care if they killed me.
“You’re clean, so why the fuck are you here? You a reporter?”
“No. I need . . . your services.”
He snorts. “Services?”
“I need to hire a hitman.”
He flinches behind me. “The fuck did you say?”
“I was told . . . or . . . I thought . . . you would be the right people to ask.”
“You lost your fuckin’ marbles, woman?” he barks.
“If you can’t help me, I’ll leave.”
“The fuck you will. Walk.”
He turns me and shoves me towards the massive warehouse. I walk slowly through the dirt until we reach the front door, where he flings it open and pushes me inside. I’m faced with a room full of bikers, women, and a whole lot of drugs and sex. I stare at them, but there is no fear.
“What you got there, Fatso?” A young man laughs. “Didn’t think someone so pretty would go for your fat ass.”
“Fuck up,” Fatso grunts, shoving me down the hall.
He leads me to a massive blocked off room, and reaches around me to bang on the door.
“Fuckin’ what?” a somewhat masculine voice growls.
“Got a visitor for you, Pres.”
There are the sounds of shuffling, then a moment later the door swings open and I’m faced with an extremely attractive man. He’s tall. He’s built. He’s deadly. I stare up at him, and he returns the favor with full force. “What’s this?”
“Bitch shows up at the fence sayin’ she needs to pay someone to do a hit.”
The president raises his dark brows. “No shit.”
“Shit. She’s yours.”
He shoves me towards the man, and then disappears back into the sex-fest going on in the main area. The man in front of me reaches out, curling his fingers around my arm, and hauls me into the room, slamming the door shut.
“You a cop?”
“Your friend already frisked me,” I mutter.
“You a journalist?”
“You guys need some new questions,” I deadpan.
He turns to me, narrowing his eyes. “What’s your name, girl?”
“Are you going to give me yours?”
He tilts his head. “No.”
“Then you don’t need to know mine. I heard I could pay you to do a hit. Can you, or can you not?”
He narrows his eyes. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ askin’ a biker club for a hit?”
“Does it matter?”
“Does if I’m goin’ to do it.”
I shake my head. I don’t have time for this. If he’s going to ask twenty questions, I’ll find someone else.
“You know what? Don’t bother. If you can’t do it, that’s fine.”
“I never said I couldn’t do it,” he says when I turn for the door. “Now, tell me who you want to fuckin’ take out?”
“My husband.”
He flinches. “He beat you?”
“No.”
“Rape you?”
“No.”
“Then why do you wanna risk shit, to take him out?”
“Because he destroyed me.”
He must see something in my eyes, in my dead, cold eyes because he sighs and mutters, “Fuck me. Fine. You got cash?”
I look back at him. “How much?”
He crosses his arms. “Twenty, large.”
I nod sharply.
Shit.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MARCUS
I shoot back the amber liquid and it scorches my throat as it slides down. Ulio is pacing the room, growling down the phone. My knee bounces as I wait for him to end the call and tell me what the fuck is going on.
“Well?” I ask, when he finally hangs up.
“Had our guy followin’ her. She was just seen at the Tinman’s Soldiers compound.”
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ shittin’ me,” I bark.
“Nope,” he says, shoving his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. “She’s serious. Whatever she’s planning, she’s serious.”
; Pain radiates through my heart. She won’t answer my calls. She won’t see me. She refuses to let me fuckin’ make this better. Now she’s hangin’ around with bikers, asking shit about hitmen.
They’ll do it for her, too.
Fuck me. This shit is serious.
~*~*~*~
KATIA
“What do you want that much cash for?” Ford asks, crossing his arms.
“I’m coming to you, Ford, because I can’t go to anyone else. You’re the only person who will understand.”
He narrows his eyes. “Understand what?”
“I . . . I . . .”
“Katia, what the fuck do you need that kind of money for?”
I need it to pay the Tinman’s Soldiers to kill my husband. The only people who could get away with killing someone and not be questioned. They’re a motorcycle club. It makes sense. It works. They can be subtle, and with Marcus’s past, the police won’t suspect them.
I straighten my shoulders. “I am leaving, and I need cash to help me get started.”
“Why would you leave when you have all this support here?”
“Because.”
“You’re lying.”
His jaw tics and I clench mine. “Please, Ford.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me. “You tell me or I won’t give it to you.”
I sigh and growl, low and deep. “I need it to pay a motorcycle club.”
He makes a wincing sound. “What the fuck do you need to pay a motorcycle club for?”
“To kill my husband.”
His face goes white. My body jerks. I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe it came out of my mouth. He’s staring at me, eyes wide, and his mouth slack. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“No,” I say, my voice dead. “He took my life. He kept me from my mother. He stripped me of everything real. He needs to go.”
“Katia,” he says, his voice steady. “You have a child.”
I flinch.
“You don’t want to mess with this kind of stuff.”
I turn away. “If you won’t help me, Ford, I’ll find another way, but I won’t stop until Marcus is gone and I’m free to live again.”
“And you think you’ll be free?” he yells after me as I start off down the hall. “You think you’ll feel okay with ending a life?”