Wrath (Dirty Soul MC: Long Beach #2)

Epilogue

“ W e should do this more often, bro.” I rest back against the deck chair and watch the sun come up on the horizon. The water laps gently against the side of the trawler and the salty, sea air fills my lungs.

“We got a bite yet?” Wrath asks, toking back on the blunt he just rolled. He’s more relaxed than I’ve seen him for weeks, which I know is mainly due to Cliff finally being dead. But I also think it’s because, right now, we’re doing his favorite kinda thing.

“I think we’d know if we had,” I chuckle, taking the blunt from between his fingers when he offers it to me.

“I’m gettin’ bored. These fuckers ain’t takin’ the bait!” Wrath slaps his hands on his lap before he gets up from his chair.

Sliding his knife outta his belt, he moves to the stern where we got a member of the Reapers hanging from the hoist by his ankles. He’s been quiet for some time now, but he starts to make a fuss when he sees Wrath approaching. The fucker wriggles like a fish outta water, his eyeballs burst from their sockets and when Wrath stabs him deep in his shoulder, and slices another deep cut through his flesh, he screams into the gag that's tied around his mouth.

I smile at the prospect who’s tied up on the floor and exhale a cloud of smoke into the fresh morning air.

“These sharks mustn’t be hungry today. Marshall said out here would be full of ‘em.” I stand up and join my friend at the stern, looking over the edge and waiting for some action. We caught this prick and his buddy smashing up one of Burlusconni’s nightclubs and, knowing now what happened to Willow, we were never gonna turn down a chance to make one suffer.

“There'll be one lurkin’ out there somewhere,” Wrath assures me, no doubt getting off in the panic he’s seeing in the Reaper's face.

“You’ve had your fun, you’ve made your point. Let him go.” The prospect finds some balls and yells, and both me and Wrath glance over our shoulders, and laugh at him

“Let him go?” Wrath pouts. “Ya hear that Ruck? He wants us to let him go.”

The Reaper whose hair is almost touching the waterline, frantically shakes his head as I pull out my blade and stretch up ready to slice through the rope.

“NO… I didn’t mean that! I mean take us back. Let us go home.”

“Home?” I leave the fucker hanging and head toward the kid, crouching in front of him and tilting my head.

“And where might home be? Because it sure as fuck ain’t here.” I make an indent under his chin with the point of my knife.

His breathing gets faster, he’s looking like he’s gonna crap his pants and when he starts to sob I shake my head at the pathetic waste of a ballsack.

“If this is what the Reapers are rearin’, we ain’t got shit to worry about.” I laugh across to Wrath who’s far too distracted by whatever he’s reading on his phone.

“You on that thing again? What’s the matter, wife wantcha home?” I tease him as I straighten back on my feet.

“Nah, this is from Jessie’s old lady.” He passes the phone to me so I can read it for myself. Soon as we got this fucker we sent a picture of his ID to her so she could run one of her checks, and I’m assuming this is a report of what she discovered.

“You can’t kill us. We were just takin’ orders.” The prospect shakes his head, looking more and more fearful by the second. These kids Ronnie’s recruiting ain’t got a clue about what they're getting into. “We were just there to cause some chaos, to let people know what we’re about. No one got hurt. He doesn’t deserve to die.” He looks across at his friend as he bleeds into the ocean.

“You think this guy here’s innocent?” Wrath laughs, as he opens up a file on his phone and shows the kid a mug shot of his friend.

“Jonathan William Draper.” Wrath clears his throat as he starts reading out his wrap sheet. “Arrested and charged for three separate accounts of rape. A home invasion in an elderly couple usin’ a firearm, and assault…” He moves his attention from the prospect to our shark bait. “… on his wife. I got the photos of the mess he made outta her. Ya wanna see ‘em?” Wrath adds.

“Still think he don't deserve to die?” I check once we’ve listened to just a little bit of the shit Maddy managed to pull up on him.

“Ya see, Long Beach is our home and we don’t want men like JW, here, in our town. Reapers have a very different opinion than we do on what wearin’ that 1 percent badge means. They got no morals and no respect. You gotta ask yourself if you wanna be a part of that because you're gonna make an important decision today.” Wrath crouches down to his level.

“We’re gonna kill your friend.” Wrath gets real with him. “And then, we’re gonna let you go.”

The kid sighs with relief.

“Once that happens you're gonna have to choose what you do next.”

While Wrath explains I hum the Jaws theme to build up some anticipation and JW continues to wriggle like a snake on speed.

“You can either leave our town, toss that cut you’re wearin’ in the nearest dumpster and attempt to make good of your life, or…you can run back to the Reapers. You can tell your brothers what ya saw here, and you can warn ‘em that we’re comin’ for every single one of ‘em.”

The boy says nothing, just looks down at his feet and Wrath gets up and leaves him to think on it.

“What you sayin’?” He makes his way over to join me at the back of the boat.

“I say we cut this dead fuckin’ weight, and get back to the clubhouse in time for breakfast.” I step up on the edge and keep humming that tune as I hack my knife through the rope that’s keeping JW hanging by his ankles. Then, just as the last fibers slip through my blade, I smile at him darkly and watch the terror in his eyes before he goes under.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!” The prospect shakes his head like he’s just realized how deep this shit, he’s got himself into, is.

“Come on, let’s get back.” Wrath pulls the anchor while I watch the skin on the kid’s face turn paler.

“How far d’ya think it is back to shore?” I ask Wrath as he starts the engine and takes hold of the wheel.

“5, maybe 5.5 miles.” Wrath gives it a guess as he steers us back toward the marina. I spend the next few minutes staring at the boy in front of me and wondering what choice he’s gonna make.

“How about now?” I wait until the marina is in view.

“2 miles, just under,” Wrath calls out.

“Can ya swim?” I take my knife out again, slicing through the ropes that are wrapped around the prospect’s ankles.

“Um, kinda,” he answers, looking up at me nervously.

“Take this just in case.” I pull one of the life jackets from the locker and use the kid's prospect cut to lift him to his feet.

“Wait, no! There’s sharks in this water!” He shakes his head as I cut his wrists free and help him into the jacket. “You can’t throw me off here. I…I’ll leave Long Beach, I’ll leave Cali, you'll never see me again. The Reapers won’t find out what ya did. I promise.” Grabbing the life vest he’s now wearing, I move him to the side of the boat and guide the front of his body over the edge so he can watch the foamy waves smash against the hull.

“We don’t need your silence, kid.” I shove the scrawny prick hard in the back and send him overboard.

“You think he’ll take the message back to ‘em?” Wrath asks, looking back over his shoulder and laughing as the kid bobs up and down in the wake behind us.

“Fucker’s gotta make it back to shore, first.” I take a seat and relight the blunt.

We both thank Marshall for lending us his trawler when we get back to the marina and head toward Wrath’s houseboat where I've left my bike. As we walk around the corner, I freeze when I see a huge poster pinned to one of the lampposts. It was dark when we left the dock at 3 am, so I would’ve missed it. But it’s there, plain in front of me now.

“What’s up?” Wrath stops when he realizes I’ve hung back.

“Nothin’.” I shake my head, keeping my eyes fixed on the poster. There’s only one traveling circus I can think of that passes through here, and it’s the one Wrath’s sister left with.

“Ruck, what’s gotten into ya?” Wrath laughs at me, and when he follows my eyes and sees for himself, the smile drops from his face. He’s been trying to get hold of Freya, to tell her what happened to Willow, for weeks now. The number we have for her is disconnected and in all honesty, I don’t think he’s too mad about that. Not being able to contact her means he ain’t gotta suffer the pain of breaking the news.

“Guess you just found your way of lettin’ Freya know about Willow,” I tell him.

“If she’s still with ‘em, who knows? She might have moved on. She could be anywhere in the world right now.” I ignore the sting that that puts in my chest and shake my head.

“Ya, comin' for breakfast or not?” I move on from the subject and keep walking to my bike and when Wrath's phone goes off again, he smirks when he checks it.

“Another fuckin’ selfie from Eden?” I roll my eyes and try to distract myself from the fact Freya could be on her way back to town. I should never have let her fuckin’ leave the first time.

“Yeah…I think I’m gonna take a rain check on breakfast.” He pulls his eyes off the screen.

“Are you kiddin’?”

“Sorry, man. But if you were lookin’ at what I am, right now, you’d do the same. I’ll catch ya later.” Wrath races off down his wharf, leaving me to walk the rest of the way by myself and when I hear a loud shriek, followed by giggles coming from inside his houseboat I can make a pretty good guess at what that picture was of.

I get to my bike and, seeing a flyer tucked into the windshield wiper of the car parked behind me, I snatch it up and scrunch it in my hand.

Freya passing through here should be a good thing. Cliff is dead, Wrath is home, it would be good for them to reconnect. After the loss of Willow, he could sure do with having her around. Yet all I feel is fuckin’ anger. I don’t want Freya back in Long Beach, she’s bad for me, and yet as I get on my bike and head back toward the club, I make sure I take the route that passes the old truckers' yard where they usually set up.

Only a few trailers are parked in the huge, open space. The roustabouts are already hard at work erecting the big top and I park up and watch them from the cliff edge. Being up here is reminding me of how I felt sitting in this very same spot and watching her leave. It was the first time I ever felt real fuckin’ pain, and I didn’t understand it all. Being here now, makes me realize that that pain never really went away.

I spend far too much of my time trying to distract myself from it. Every member of the club has his role. I can be the reliable one, I can be the funny one. I can be the one who has a different fuckin’ whore every night. I just can’t be the one who fell for his best friend’s little sister.

Freya leavin’ the club should have been the best thing that ever happened to me. It should have given me freedom from my thoughts, but instead, it cut me open. It’s kinda pathetic, considering the two of us never agreed on anything.

I restart my engine and move on, heading back to the club so I can get myself something to eat. It’s still early, I doubt there’ll be anyone up yet, but I don’t wanna go home. Being home will make me think of her again and I gotta push that shit to the back of my mind

I pull through the gates and park up, then heading through the arch, I pick up one of the plastic chairs that's fallen on its side and stand it straight. The place looks empty, and Polly must still be asleep because she ain’t propped open the clubhouse door to get rid of the stench of stale booze like she usually does. I’m making my way toward it when I notice a trail of blood running across the ground toward the pool pit, and as I follow it I almost choke on a fly when it lands on my fuckin’ mouth. Shooing it away, I glance over the edge and look to the bottom, and what I see makes me back the fuck away.

“ Shit! ” I quickly pull out my cell and call Raze, and while I wait for him to answer, I take another look to check I ain’t seeing things.

“Ruckus.”

“You need to get to the yard,” I tell him.

“What's the problem, now?” He sounds groggy and pissed the fuck off.

“The problem is, we got another dead girl!” I stare down at the pale-skinned girl that's lying in the bottom of our empty pool and on closer inspection, I realize that I recognize her.

“What? Where?”

“Right fuckin’ here, Raze. I’m lookin’ at her!”

“Holy shit! Is she…she cut up like the others?” he asks, rustling around him and hopefully making his way here.

“Yeah,” I whisper, looking down at the wide-open eyes of the latest victim, “and this time there’s a message.”

The word GOTCHA is spelled out in blood around the girl’s head and when I hear a loud scream come from the balcony, I look up and see Anita.

“ Jenika! That’s Jenika!” She rushes down the stairs and I meet her at the bottom, grabbing her waist and holding her back.

“She’s gone, there's nothin’ you can do for her,” I explain.

“No. She’s just a girl, she was saved.” Anita shakes her head.

“What's goin’ on?” Sasquatch steps outside one of the rooms, scratching the back of his head.

“She’s dead! Jenika’s dead!” Anita yells.

“What d’ya mea–oh, fuck!” He looks into the pool and what he sees wakes him the fuck up.

Raze comes rushing through the arch and stops at the edge of the pool when he sees the girl laid out at the bottom.

“You said he was dead. You promised that he couldn't hurt us anymore.” Anita clings to my shirt and shakes.

“I know.” I try to calm her down, but I got no words of reassurance. Cliff Adams is, without any doubt, dead and fuckin’ buried. What we’re dealing with here is the unknown.

I look across the yard at Raze and feel the anger coursing through him as he looks down at the girl he thought he’d saved.

“Cliff didn’t do this,” I promise Anita, holding her in my arms and doing all I can to make her feel safe.

“If he didn’t do it, who did?” She looks up at me like I’ve got all the fuckin’ answers.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head, realizing that this ain’t over.

I don’t think it’s even fuckin’ started.