Storm: (Blood Legion MC) (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 3) (22 page)

Main Event

WE MADE IT TO the main action in time to see SUVs and trucks and motorcycles peeling off in clouds of dust. But no roaring thunder from the Blood Legion bandits.

Bane fired off crackling shots that lit up the night, but the vehicles fishtailed out of sight.

“Want me to go after them?” He peered up at Blaize from his crouch-and-aim stance.

“No. The Los Reyes and the others aren’t the main objective this time.”

“I got your main objective righ’chere.” Justice flashed his pearly whites. “Glad to see you made it, Blaize.”

Kiss-ass.

“What about me?” I scowled.

“Chopped liver.”

Big middle finger for him.

He’d corralled the main suspects from the Blood Legion—those who were left alive. I noted with interest the number of blood-oozing bullet wounds and the amount of fleshy bruises while Justice and Bane barely looked like they’d been in a dust-up.

The MC outlaws prided themselves on being stone cold killers.

They’d just met the real ones, up close and personal.

Slade and Justice bro-hugged, both of them keeping weapons trained on the loser crew tightly circled and on their knees in the bluff grass and dirt of the rail yard.

“Look at you, Gunny.
Jeeeesus
.” Slade scoured a hand over Justice’s short blond hair. “Maverick said you went shadow ops.”

“Hell, last time I saw you was in
Hell
mand Province, Sarge.”

“Got out when Mav did. Decided to do a little moonlighting for the CIA. Had some connections.” Slade bent his forehead to Justice’s. “No re-up to civvy life for men like us.”

“Semper fi, Marine.” Justice curled his fingers into Slade’s shoulder. “Heard about Texas.”

“Bad times.” Slade’s face twisted into grim shadows.

“The worst.” Justice inhaled on a raw sound. “Can’t believe he’s dead. Glad you made it out in one piece though, man.”

“And look at us glory hounds now,
huh
?” Slade released Jus, shaking his head. “Damn, Gunny.”

They continued to catch up, talking quietly. I watched them for a moment, wondering what Justice’s time in the Marines had been like. He never talked about it. No one asked. A man’s business was his own. But even though he was all shiny and bright on the outside, he’d clearly lived through hell and come out of it.

I glanced at Blaize. She was so fucking tight in the head she refused to admit she was fatigued down to her bones, probably in some serious shock, and possibly ready for a mini breakdown if she’d let herself.

Instead, she walked a loop around the circle of prisoners.

I strode along the line from the opposite direction.

Walker and Bane kept on silent, hawkeyed watch.

“Wait. WAIT!” I stopped short, scanning the immediate area.

Blaize jerked her chin in my direction. “What?”

“Where’s Venom?” My body tensed, worry once more coalescing inside me. “Where in the fuck is Angel?”

No answer. And neither man was in sight.

“Fuck.” I signaled to Justice and Bane to stay on watch, motioning Blaize, Slade, and Walker after me.

We went silently, inspecting the dark depths of the depot, branching off and whistling low to signal our positions.

Rounding corners, hopping over tracks, keeping my pistol raised, I investigated every motherfucking stock car I came upon.

Nothing.

A shrill whistle rolled across the night, a call to action.

I sprinted toward the sound, only skidding to a stop when I fell in behind Walker who carefully placed his S&W on the ground.

Because Venom was in execution posture. Angel bulked up behind him. Angel held his bowie knife at Venom’s throat, but he pointed his gun at Walker.

“Easy,
brah
,” I cautioned Angel.

“I take it that’s your little brother,” Walker dryly commented. “Gotta tell you, an angel he is not.”

Slade and Blaize swerved into sight. I waved them back.

Angel’s muscles quivered, his big frame quaking from head to toe to hands. And every time he shook, the sharp blade he held at Venom’s arched throat gouged deeper into flesh.

Not good.
Not good at all.

Christ, Angel was losing it.

I staged slowly forward, Walker taking up my six.

“Remember that night? At the docks,
Ange
?” I asked. “You didn’t want to kill then. You don’t want to now.”

“Oh yeah? Says who?”

I holstered my gun. “Me. Because I told you being a man meant knowing when
not
to kill. Having mercy.”

“Mercy?” He laughed, a rusty raw sound. “Fucking mercy? How ’bout when he showed
mercy
on my dad. By murdering him!” He gripped Venom’s bald head, digging the knife deeper.

“What?”

“Killed him because he wanted control of Legion. Didn’t want the club to go to me.”

I’d always wondered. Now I knew the truth. The truth wasn’t fuckin’ pretty.

Walker and Slade all but breathed down my neck, and Blaize cautioned, “We need Venom alive.”

“Put the blade away, Angel. You don’t want murder on your rap sheet.”

“Tell him, Storm.” Venom gritted his teeth, crimson drops welling and dripping down his neck.

“You shut your fucking mouth before I let him gut you stomach to gullet.”

Angel looked at me, unshed tears brightening his eyes.

“Stand down, Angel.” I moved slowly forward. “You’re too good for this mayhem.”

A huge roar filled his throat. He tossed the knife away only to haul Venom around and mash his fist into his face.

I watched in awe as Angel waled on him. Punches. Kicks. Punishing blows.

Blaize stepped beside me. “I suppose a few more bruises won’t matter.”

Venom’s eyes rolled back when Angel crushed his knuckles against the pulpy mess of Venom’s face one more time.

“What about brutality?” Venom gasped out.

Marching forward, Blaize yanked his head up. “You want brutal?” Her hand lowered, squeezing his nutsack until his eyes bulged.

Then she kicked him flat back to the ground. “
That
was for the fucking explosives,
couillon
.”

She spat on him and turned away. Chin high. Eyes narrowed. Her stride strong.

“Cuff that fuck before I bleed him out myself,” she ordered.

Fuck. That shit isn’t supposed to be hot, but it is.

With Venom tied up and hobbled with the rest of his one-percenter crew, Blaize sounded off a final time. “Convoy these assholes to ATF. They’re expecting you. Bane, Justice, Walker . . . you’re on delivery detail. Don’t get fucking fancy on the way to
NAS JRB New Orleans.”

“Ma’am.”

“Yes’m.”

“
Fuuuck
.”

They sounded off.

Slade slipped beside us. “What about me?”

Blaize barely glanced at him. “What about you?”

“This was my op.”

“
Was
being the prime word.”

Christ. Now I remembered why Blaize had always had me by the short and curlies.

Slade was clearly a cutthroat killer—a Corps man—and Blaize took him down one more peg. “CIA,
huh
? What a waste. You want to work for the real people? Find a way to contact me. That’s your first test.”

“Holy shit.” Slade frowned. “You’re for real?”

“Holy shit,” I echoed. “Yeah. She is.” Then I knocked my shoulder against a shell-shocked Angel. “You’re with us.”

He nodded silently, a ghost of a look glazing his eyes and bruises all over his fists.

Blaize and I had taken two steps away from the men when she faltered. “Don’t let me look weak, Storm.”

I caught her in my arms. Her skin was clammy wherever I touched her. She was on the verge of collapse.

“I got you,
cher
.”

Down the Bayou

“YOU SURE WE GOT time for this?” I held Blaize’s hand, glancing over at her.

“I’m the boss lady, remember?” She winked.

“How could I forget?”

“And I’d say we’re do for some R&R.”

“Well all righty then.” With a grin stretching my lips, I continued strolling beside her.

I tried not to stare at her too much. To stare was to want her. Immediately. But I was still concerned about her.

Even though she continuously claimed she was shipshape after nearly getting blown to bits four nights ago, she still woke in the grips of night terrors that included the brutal rape she’d survived, evidence of painful memories resurfacing.

Those hours were bound in darkness for her. All I could do was hold her, calm her, shore her up with my ever-near presence, and wonder how the hell she’d become so goddamn strong instead of disappearing altogether into the black void of cruelty that’d been dealt her.

Her ability to power through it, day by day, amazed me. Made me respect her all the more. The shit she’d accomplished and she was only thirty-one to my thirty-three years.

The woman earned nothing but my love, and I showed it to her in everything I did. The coffee. The breakfast in bed always. Listening to her fears, making love to her,
making her laugh
when she least expected it.

Probably pissing her off a fair few times, too.

We’d always be like fire and ice. Forces that clashed together . . . then melted.

Walking along the woodsy trail, I just enjoyed the sound of her pure laughter.

Four days since Venom and the others had been taken into custody. Basic mission clean up in New Orleans included dealing with the whorehouse full of forced, unpapered, illegal sex-workers.

Time for Angel to come to terms with how his dad had met his death.

Time to start healing before Blaize and I headed back to DC.

In the bright autumn sunlight shifting down through the forest canopy, Blaize’s hair truly did blaze. She ambled along, wearing a flannel shirt, faded jeans, and hiking boots. Much as I’d got hot when she looked like my naughty MC minx, I had total appreciation for this new side of Blaize.

She was natural. Earthy. Sensual. She didn’t need any accouterments in order to be tantalizingly sexy, although when she was naked as a jaybird for my pleasure that was definitely a plus.

“What happens to Shar, Nikki, the others?” I asked.

“And Kat?” Blaize sassed.

“Don’t be jealous now. Doesn’t suit you.” Smirking, I sidestepped her when she lunged for me.

“You might want to take a leaf out of your own book.”

Reaching up, I pulled a pointy maple leaf free then tickled the side of Blaize’s neck with the frond. “Like this?”

She swatted at me again with a lusty laugh.

And I goosed her fine ass just because, and because for once there was no need to watch our backs. Angel was the only person trailing behind us as we humped our packs deeper into bayou country where cypress knees pockmarked the ground, and huge gum trees spread their canopies above us, and swampy terrain sucked at our boot heels.

Blaize retaliated . . . pinching
my
ass. Then heartily groping it.

“Get a room.
Merde
,” Angel complained.

“Teenagers.” I chuckled as Angel barged ahead of us on the trail.

“
Pic kee toi
.” He sent up two middle fingers behind his back.

Surprise.

“About Nikki and Shar and the other women . . .” Winding her arm around my waist, Blaize laid her head on my shoulder. “WITSEC if they testify. If they want it.”

I could live with that.

“What about Solomon?”

“Same. Relocation.”

I shook my head. “
Nah.
We can’t do that to him, Blaize. You know it. Sure the Legion was ten kinds of fucked up, but they were his kin. We gotta think of something else.”

The biggest question remained on my mind as we turned the last bend that led to a hollow . . .

What about Angel?

****

Angel brushed the blond curls from his eyes as he stopped at the bottom of the porch. Funny, I made the same gesture unconsciously, except my hair was coal black. In looks we were almost complete opposites—no one would ever guess we were blood-related. The only feature we had in common was the dark blue eyes.

And I could see it in Angel’s eyes then—he was nervous. Waiting for me to make the first move after we’d tromped for a mile off the main road deep into the woods.

The narrow channel of the bayou shushed past a few yards away—a swampy-bottomed waterway reflecting coppery green colors on the multifaceted surface. The same old silver-wooded dock I’d cannon-balled off as a boy still standing the test of time.

The cabin had been renovated. I’d improved the foundation, rigged up better plumbing, rebuilt the fireplace inside. The porch was freshly swept. Stacks of wood sent up the smell of clean sawdust. And the same faded bleeding pelican state flag hung from one of the porch posts.

I heard a shuffling sound inside.

Then a holler:

“I got a shotgun,and m
y
grand
béb
é
taught me how to shoot it real well!”

Bracing a foot on the lowest step, I cupped my hands around my mouth. “I sure as hell hope he did, Ma
m
e
re.”

“Nash? That you?” I heard her fumbling with the latch on the screen door. “You tryin’ to give this old woman a heart condition?”

“If you’d turn on that damn cell phone I gave you—”

“The cellular phone.” Ma
m
e
re swung the door wide. “
Bah
. What I got to do with the thing? I like to look at a person’s face when I talk to ’em.”

I wasn’t even gonna bother to explain the whole FaceTime or Skype concept. Instead I jumped up the steps and grabbed her in my arms.

Oh man. She smelled just the same as when I last had the chance to visit, right after Walker’s Beirut stint that almost got us all killed.
Mamere.
Chicory, a little cheroot smoke, rose water, and sunshine. She felt frailer in my arms, but she was still fighting fit enough to wallop me on the side of my head if she had a mind to.

She’d been blonde, like Angel, like our mom, Joséphine. Her daughter. Now her hair was fine and silver and still long, worn tied back from her face. And her eyes danced—Savoie blue we liked to call it, after Mamere’s maiden name.

I waltzed her around the porch in my embrace while she held onto my shoulders and laughed like it was the best damn day of her life.

Until she spied Angel and Blaize, watching us with upturned faces from beside the unpruned fall flowering bushes in front of the porch.

Then she flapped her hands at me. Flapped her gums too. Got all flustered and coy. “In front of guests?
Grand bee
dé
!
Put me down. I look a fright!”

I released her with a peck on her cheek while she patted at her hair and swatted at my face. She blushed like a young girl.

“
Arrete-toi
!” She kept grumbling, smoothing her dress, shaking her finger at me.

“They’re not exactly guests,” I explained.

“Well, I’d at least a’liked to greet the new folk in somethin’ other than my housedress.”

“Ma
m
e
re. You are as beautiful as the day Papere asked you to marry him.” I laid it on thick, knowing she loved it.

She scowled and grumbled some more, but the corners of her lips turned up.

Keeping one arm around her shoulders—she stood just tall enough to be neatly tucked beneath my arm—I beckoned to Blaize and Angel.

“Oh, my.” Ma
m
e
re’s hand lifted to her chest. “
Mon Dieu
,” she said when Angel slowly took the steps.

Her hand shaking, she reached out to him. “Joey’s baby boy?”

Joey
. Joséphine. The mom Angel had never known and I barely remembered being present. The story was she’d had a fling with Lucian, Angel’s dad. But she didn’t want to raise another child, couldn’t even raise me. After he was born, she told Lucian to take him.

My mom may not have wanted us, but Mamere sure did.

Tears cascaded from her eyes, and I felt them brimming in mine, too.

Angel halted just shy of taking Ma
m
e
re’s hands in his palms. “I don’t know a Joey, ma’am, but it sure is nice to meet you.”

“See now, Nash. The boy has some manners.
Très bien élevé
.” Her smile beamed brighter through the tears and quaking of her voice. “I’d know you anywhere. C’mere,
p’tit boug
. Give your mamere some sugar.”

He didn’t get a chance to protest because she latched onto him, touching his face, babbling in soft Cajun.

Angel glanced at me, shrugged, then enveloped her in his hug.

I wasn’t sure who healed more in that moment. The grandmother who’d lost her daughter to a sad, lonely, wasted death or the man who’d thought he’d lost the only family he’d ever had.

Or me. Who’d waited a lifetime for a memory like this.

Drawing Blaize beside me, I waited for Mamere to let Angel go. Wondered if she was using her famous stranglehold on him.

He didn’t seem to mind too much.

She finally ran her hands—strong, hardworking hands—down his arms. “I held you once. Just once,
Ange
.” She patted him on the cheek. “And I knew you’d become a might’ fine man, like your big brother here.” As she looked out over the burbling bayou, I knew she was saying a little prayer. “Yes, I did.”

With a sound of appreciation, and keeping her palm resting on Angel’s arm, she turned to Blaize. “And who this be?”

“Colette Savoie, this is Blaize Carmichael,
mon amour
.”

Mamere instantly wrapped her in a warm hug. She pulled back to inspect her thoroughly, too. “
Belle. Belle.
And her hair, just like a
mamou
tree.”

I leaned against the porch railing. “That’s what I said.”

“She’s Storm’s boss,” Angel added.

Mamere hooted long and loud. “Oh. He always need a woman in charge.” She opened the screen door, still chuckling. “Never did unnerstand why they call you Storm, though.”

“Probably because he’s broody like that.” Angel took the opened door to mean
make yourself at home
, and he did just that. Dropping his pack in the front room.

Following him after I guided Blaize inside, I cracked him on the back of his head.

“I might have to agree, Angel,” said Blaize.

Yuck yuck yuck
.

“Traitor.” Pinning my eyes on her, I twisted her into my arms. I snaked a hand to her ass. “I’ll make you eat those words later.”

“Can’t wait,” she breathed out against my lips.

“This house ain’t heard this much commotion since the day Nash was born. Came out, fierce and wild.
Hmm
. S’pose Storm makes sense after all.” Mamere whisked away into her curtained-off bedroom. “Now Angel?” She clucked her tongue loudly. “Sweet an’ gen’le as the kiss of a rainbow.”

“
Sweet and gentle
.” I mouthed at Angel.

“
Broody and scowlin’
.” He mouthed back.

Man, I was about ready to take him out for a mud-wrassle, but Mamere returned and we smiled at her . . .
like angels.

In the space of two minutes, she’d transformed herself. Different dress, apron tied at the waist, hair pinned back with the family heirloom combs, and rose-colored lipstick.

“I still get the Mary Kay out here,” she announced, sweeping back into the room.

Could not love her more
.