Cruz, his face lined from drugs, booze, and being a prick, smiled. “For fun. I didn’t have time to really use her, but one good bite ruined her just the same. Tell me she died.”
Jax kept his expression lax. “Sorry. She had a bad fever and it was close, but now she’s knitting sweaters. You know, in time for winter.”
Cruz’s eyes narrowed until they were almost all black. “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not.” Jax lifted a shoulder. “Did you bite her?”
Cruz snorted. “No. I’m not a carrier, but I keep a couple of Rippers chained in the basement. They bite when I tell them to bite.”
Bile cut through Jax’s gut. “You’re fuckin’ sick.”
“Drop your gun.”
“Sure.” Jax dropped the gun, and it bounced once on the torn carpet. “You know what I don’t get?”
“Women?”
Jax barked out a laugh. “Besides women. I don’t get why you’re coming after me. L.A. is a huge place, and we don’t have to lose people fighting each other.”
Cruz stepped closer. “You betrayed me by leaving me here, mulo.”
Jax rolled his eyes, his muscles tensing. “Bullshit. I left because I needed to leave.”
“Brothers choose prison and not the government. Not the fuckin’ army.”
They would never see eye to eye. “Nice boots, by the way. Three-inch heels?” Cruz was under six feet tall, and it had always pissed him off that Jax, with his white daddy’s genes, had gotten so tall. “Are those girl boots?”
“Fuck you.” Cruz stepped in and shoved the barrel of the gun against Jax’s throat.
Pain pricked his larynx. “Not my type.”
Cruz lifted his head, hatred in his eyes. “No? Your brother liked me just fine.”
Fire roared through Jax’s head. “I told you to leave him alone. He didn’t belong in Twenty.”
Cruz leaned in, his face a mere inch from Jax’s. “He was the best enforcer I’ve ever seen. Killed like a motherfucker.”
Jax grit his teeth and tried to shove out words. “Marcus didn’t kill anybody.”
Pure delight glimmered in Cruz’s wild eyes. “He killed more than anybody I ever knew. Was a fucking genius at it.” Cruz sighed. “But Marcus had to go. Too . . . what’s the word? Charismatic.”
Everything inside Jax stilled. Went dead. “He had to go?” he asked evenly.
Cruz smiled, his red lips tipping in almost a snarl. “Yes. The drive-by? Well, too many of my men, my followers, were looking at your little brother. So he had to go. Even his nickname, Slam, was charismatic.”
Jax had suspected. Without any evidence, even a hint of the truth, he’d wondered. He’d even stood at the grave site and asked for answers, but his mother had already died before Marcus had, so there were no answers. “You’re gonna pay, Cruz.”
“No, I’m not.” Cruz leaned back while keeping the gun flush against Jax’s throat. “After I kill you, I’m going to take apart your little fiefdom. Starting with Blue Heart.”
Jax jerked. What the fuck?
“Yep. My new recruit was all full of info. Shawn gave me her location so I’d allow him to live.” Cruz chuckled, low and deep.
Fuck. “The kid lied to you.”
Cruz’s lips brushed Jax’s ear. “Ah, you never could lie to me, brother. The woman? She stays in your quarters.”
Heat compressed Jax’s heart. Cruz would destroy Lynne and enjoy every second. “You’re misinformed,” Jax ground out, his heart pounding.
“I don’t think so. Now you die so I can go get my hands on the woman. It won’t be the first time I’ve used your leftovers.”
A bullet flew by Cruz’s head, and he jerked back.
Jax ducked and punched up as hard as he could, throwing Cruz against the far wall. He turned to see Tace coming at him, gun firing. “What the hell?” he asked.
Bullets shot through the door behind Jax, and he leaped to the side and into Tace. Tace grabbed him in a bear hug and hurtled them both into an empty room across the way.
“What the hell?” Jax repeated.
Tace ran for the window. “I decided I didn’t want to lose Wyatt’s picture. Give it back.”
What?
The gunman swept inside, spraying bullets. Fuck. It was Shawn. It was true. Cruz had recruited instead of killed him. Smart.
Jax hit the ground.
Tace turned and calmly plugged the kid between the eyes. Red mingled with purple, and Shawn took his last breath.
Jax stood and turned toward his friend. A week ago, Tace wouldn’t have tried that shot. He would’ve negotiated, especially with a kid he’d known personally. “Man, we gotta talk.”
“I know. Let’s get out of here first.” Tace threw an arm into the window, shattering it out.
“No.” Jax grabbed a knife from his boot and ran into the hallway, hurrying west and ducking into the next room. It was time to fulfill his vow, even if it was his last act. Cruz began firing. Jax ducked, bunched, and shot forward to hit Cruz’s midsection, throwing them both into the window. They impacted it with harsh grunts, flying through glass, and then falling. Jax manacled Cruz’s shirt. They hit the ground with Jax on top of Cruz, and he could feel it as Cruz’s ribs shattered.
Not enough. Not nearly enough. Gunfire erupted around them, and they both rolled in opposite directions.
Tace landed next to Jax, rolled, and kept firing. He grabbed Jax’s arm and started to yank.
“No,” Jax yelled, spit flying from his mouth, scrambling to go after Cruz. A blow to the head sparked stars behind his eyes, and then darkness crashed through him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I have never, not once in my life, met a hero who saw himself as such. Not once.
—Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony
Lynne shivered, once again in the makeshift graveyard many hours after the world had blown apart in the morning. They’d had to restore their defenses before turning to the dead. She’d never seen a mass grave before, and the thought brought bile into her throat. Night was beginning to fall, and they’d need to take cover under darkness soon.
Jax stood on the other side of the grave, his left arm cradled against his stomach, bruises and cuts deepening on his face. It had been too long since he’d slept, and exhaustion glimmered in his dark eyes. Tace and Sami flanked him, while Raze circled the group, scouting out, looking for threats. Sami cried freely, but neither Jax nor Tace showed any emotion. Any hint of an expression of pain.
All of the bodies, all seven of them, had been wrapped in whatever old sheets had been available and then placed in the hole.
Seven. They’d lost seven of the group, and at least five more were too wounded to leave the infirmary. Most of the damage had come from the early grenades.
Several men started piling dirt on the bodies until only a mound remained.
Tace looked at Jax, who didn’t move.
Lynne stiffened. Wyatt was gone. Who would speak?
She waited and then caught Jax’s gaze. He blinked. She tilted her head, trying to convey sympathy and support. This wasn’t his bailiwick, but he was the leader.
Fury lit his eyes, but she kept his gaze. Finally, he stepped forward, his voice gravelly low. “These were our friends, our people, our soldiers. They fought hard, and they died well. We will miss them all.”
Jax turned his focus to Wyatt’s grave. “Scorpius made you a soldier, but you made yourself a friend. We disagreed about what’s next after life, and I hope to hell you were right and I was wrong. If so, rest in peace, and send some help our way. Hooah, my brother.” His voice cracked.
Tears clogged Lynne’s throat as Jax stepped back.
Other folks talked about the dead, and then Sami said a short prayer.
The group attending the funeral, about fifty people not needed in protection, security, or anywhere else at the moment, turned toward the inner compound. Lynne moved around the mound until she reached Jax. “How badly are you hurt?” Rumor had it he’d fallen out of a second-story window.
“I’m fine. Go back with Sami, and we’ll talk later.” He glanced over his shoulder at Raze. “I need help with a job.”
Raze jogged toward him.
Tace’s gaze remained on the mound. “I’ll come help you burn the Twenty bodies.”