Page 71 of Ensnared By Silence
Epilogue
Devlin
‘Vengeance takes timewhen the threat isn’t imminent.’
That’s what James explained to Hayden when he came to us just before Valentine’s Day, asking for an update on Jared and Wesley. He assured him that Jared was under constant surveillance, which, I prayed, gave Aubrey some peace of mind.
I could still see the anger in her eyes and what I had planned for those two assholes would be the most . . . inventive way to destroy someone I’ve ever planned.
For months, James and I dug through Jared’s life, dissecting every nuance, every detail, every move he made, looking for our way in. With him being the son of a state senator, it was vital we moved with caution. Jared’s father meant he was shielded to a degree.
When I finally had enough information to make my move, I acted quickly. Usually, I liked to hunt alone, but the misery these assholes deserved for all the shit I uncovered made the monster generous. We were on our way to Memphis, and James, Skid, and I were all strapped and ready to kill.
Jared planned a weekend, using Tucker’s death as an excuse for a getaway. In reality, his death affected him very little, and he was planning on prowling a few bars, looking for another victim. He rented a house on the outskirts of town, and my guys already had the place wired with cameras and microphones.
During the drive away from Pierce Bluff, we listened and watched as they made their plans and the more I heard, the harder I gripped the steering wheel, wishing it was their throats. James tapped into neighborhood cameras and was erasing our footprints as we drove to the house we were staying at. A former Death Hounds member was giving us a place to use as home base while we were in town.
Skid carried a significant amount of guilt for not being able to vindicate his sister, Sadie, after her attack, and the fallout of her justice nearly destroyed the Portstill chapter. Gunner, Sadie’s husband and Skid’s brother-in-law, stepped into the chaos and not only saved the club from destruction but helped them to grow, prosper, and build on their reputation as a group of men you do not fuck with.
They didn’t scare me, and I didn’t intimidate them, so we got along perfectly.
We carried our bags and weapons into the older house a block from his rental house and set up the computers on the dining room. The sun was going down as we watched him get ready for his evening, and I turned my attention to Skid.
“Are you ready for this?” I asked, and he smirked, leaning back and crossing his heavily tattooed arms over his muscled chest.
“Ready to watch that fucker burn?”
“Hell, yes,” he replied with a chuckle, and James shook his head with a smile.
James and I went to get changed and when we returned to the living room with our standard black pants, black and gray shirt, black boots, and more weapons than necessary, we found Skid standing waiting for us. He was wearing a pair of fitted jeans, a tight t-shirt, and his tattoos on full display. His black hair was brushed back and his beard was trimmed neat.
“I want this back,” Skid remarked and handed me his knife. It was a bone handled k-bar knife, sharpened to a deadly edge.
I strapped it to my thigh with a nod, and he turned, leaving us alone in the deserted house. James looked at me with cold, dead green eyes and I saw his monsters staring back at me. It was hard for James to come to terms with the life his sister was forced into, and to not be taking the lead on this was testing his patience.
We got back into the truck and James opened his laptop, watching Skid through traffic cameras as he approached the tiny bar on the outskirts of Memphis. From our position near the Mississippi River, we watched as Skid made his way up to the bar, finding a seat next to Jared. The glint of fury in his eyes was visible through the camera, and I looked at James.
“He’ll be fine,” James replied, and we watched as the two men moved to a booth in the corner and started drinking.
There was no audio, but when Jared stood from the table with a slap on the back to Skid, we watched as Skid took the two freshly ordered beers from a passing server. Dumping the small vile into the second bottle, he pushed it to Jared’s side of the table and waited. A minute later, Jared stumbled back to the table and quickly downed half his beer. Leaning in, he spoke to Skid, pointing discreetly across the bar.
Skid laughed and played the part, lifting his beer bottle in a toast. Jared finished it and slammed the bottle to the table. Raising his hand to the server, I could see the wobble in his head, and when his eyes drooped, Skid tossed a couple of bills onto the table and helped an obviously intoxicated Jared out the front door. He strapped him into the front seat of a beater car we bought for this purpose and drove away from the bar, directly toward us.
“The bar has no security, so I looped the image to cover his tracks. Not that I think Col. Colone will care one way or another,” James remarked as he furiously typed away, analyzing the new program we were working on for the government.
Operatives needed to move with some freedom without fear of being compromised, so James and I have been designing a program that tracks and erases the target as they move through a city or business. It was a few years away from perfection, but the Colonel was more than happy for us to use our research to rid the streets of rapists and abusers. His daughter was rescued a few years ago from human traffickers, thanks to our software, and since then, we’ve been given a blank check of sorts.
We lost sight of the car as they approached the off-ramp to the highway. Fifteen minutes later, Skid pulled into the deserted, overgrown lot on the edge of the river. The power water rushed by, casting a deafening sound as we got out of the vehicle and waited for him to pull up next to us. His jaw ticked as he climbed out and slammed the door behind him.
Gripping into his hair, he yelled, “God damn it! Sick motherfucker!”
Our friend paced, muttering to himself as he cracked his knuckles, his gaze bouncing from the car to the river. When he calmed down, he turned to us, his eyes blazing with rage and his body tense with fury.
“He found a girl who was celebrating her twenty-first birthday and wanted to drug her. She was alone, and he actually said we could ‘take the whore for a ride and she wouldn’t ever know’. What kind of sick fucks do that?” he asked, and I placed my hand on his shoulder, hoping to ease some of his guilt.
He was a child when his sister was raped, yet he still feels responsible for what she endured. I hoped, by allowing him vengeance on Jared, he could dissuade some of the blame he needlessly carried.
“There are real monsters in the world. It’s the job of men like us to make sure they meet the devil on our terms.” I handed him his knife from my hip and his brown eyes practically glowed as he ran his thumb along the side of the blade, inspecting the razor-sharp edge.
