Shattered Poetry (Broken Lives #2) Page 34

  “I dinnae think so, he’s too nice.”

  “Just cos he’s hot doesn’t mean he’s good.”

  She sneered at me. “Nice disnae mean hawt, ye numpty. He could’ve given us up before, but didnae do it. Not only that, he clearly hates Jonah, what with him speaking oot for me.”

  “He got stripped of his cut and kicked outta the club cos of that. Maybe he’s tryna get back in Jonah’s good books by betraying us. He did say he’d do anything for the club.”

  Annabelle tensed, probably realising I could be right.

  “So, let’s go,” I said, having had enough of waiting.

  I went for the door, but froze. Footsteps were approaching the bathroom, the tread growing louder. I took a step back as the door opened. Now dressed in a Black Sabbath T, jeans, and steel-capped boots, Jack appeared in the doorway. He indicated for us to follow him. I remained where I was, Annabelle too, afraid he was taking us to Jonah.

  “Stop mucking about,” he said in a clipped tone. “We don’t have much time before the crew returns.”

  “Ye’re not double-crossing us?” Annabelle asked.

  “What? No. I told you I’m a police officer.”

  Exhaling, Annabelle indicated to me. “This numpty tried to convince me ye were betraying us, but I told her ye’re too nice, nice as in good not hawt.” Throwing me a glare, she rushed past me, blindly taking Jack for his word.

  He chuckled, his bright blue eyes coming alive. They shifted to me, his laugh drying up. “Out,” he said, giving me the distinct impression he didn’t like me. “Unless you want to be here when Jonah returns.”

  Knowing I didn’t have much choice, I followed Annabelle, praying my suspicions were wrong. As soon as I stepped into the passage, the sight of my smiling mum melted away all my paranoia. She was standing next to a drop-dead gorgeous woman with midnight-blue hair.

  My mum rushed forward, wrapping her arms around me. “You did it, Phe, you did it,” she said, giving me a happy squeeze.

  “Save the congrats until you’re out of here,” the woman said, indicating for us to follow her. She was wearing knee-high boots, black leggings, and a chainmail singlet over a black bra, her leather cut undone. “Follow me and do it quick,” she added, her voice husky. “I’ve sent the guards on errands, but we’re still risking it.”

  She turned to leave, making my eyes pop out. PROPERTY OF REAPER was printed in bold letters across the back of her leather cut.

  I pointed at it. “What the fuck?”

  “Don’t worry,” Jack said. “She’s undercover, like me.”

  “She deserves danger money to be with that nightmare,” Annabelle said, rushing forward first.

  My mum tugged me along, Jack taking up the rear. We ran through the passages, entering a kitchen. A couple of thirty-something women, who were washing dishes, turned to look at us. I stopped, afraid they were going to give us away. Annabelle also stopped, looking just as concerned as I was.

  “Move!” Jack snapped, ordering us forward.

  The dishwashing women smiled at him, their features similar. “Hey, pretty baby,” the older one said. “You owe me a roll for this.”

  “Why would he roll with ye?” Annabelle snorted as she passed by. “You look auld enough to be his ma.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, while her sister burst out laughing. “I’m thirty!” the offended woman snapped.

  “Aye, two centuries ago,” Annabelle muttered, heading for the back door.

  Jack laughed in response, getting a scowl from the woman. “Sorry, Lana,” he called back. “I’ll pay you in full, gorgeous.”

  I glanced back at the woman, who was now looking unsure whether she should smile or scowl.

  Outside, a white van was waiting for us. Annabelle climbed into the back, then my mum and I clambered in next, along with Jack. The woman with the midnight-blue hair closed the door, shutting us in.

  “What are ye doing coming with us?” Annabelle asked, scowling at Jack. “You got to go smoochie that Macbeth witch to pay for our freedom.”

  He laughed as Reaper’s woman fired up the engine. “I like you, little girl,” he said, grinning at Annabelle. “You’re funny as hell.”

  “Stop calling me little, ye bawbag.” She shook her head and held out her hand.

  With a smile, Jack shook it.

  Annabelle jerked her hand free. “Don’t shake ma hand, ye numpty, give me yer phone.”

  “Why should I give a rude little girl my phone?” he asked, wincing as the van lurched forward, causing him to bang his injured arm against the wall.

  “’Cause I need to call Dante to see if he’s a’right. And sorry for being rude,” she added, her apology sounding forced.

  “You could’ve at least pretended to be sincere,” Jack said, pulling out his phone.

  I leaned forward and snatched it out of his hand before Annabelle could, ignoring her annoyed yell.

  “Ring Dante,” she barked, her green eyes flashing at me.

  “That’s what I’m gonna do, you moron,” I replied, keying in his number. Dante answered after a few rings. “You’re safe!” I cried out. “Where are you?”

  “Why the fuck do you care?!” he snapped. “Cos you obviously don’t give a shit ’bout me after ratting me out to Jonah McDonald.”

  “I didn’t!”

  “Landon said he saw you walk into the DC crib, so don’t fuckin’ lie to me!”

  “To save my mum! Jonah kidnapped her.”

  “And what did you say to free her? That I killed his son? That your alibi wuz all a lie?”

  “No! I would never do that. I love you with all my heart, Dante.”

  Annabelle made a spiffing sound. I threw her a glare.

  Dante continued, “I don’t believe you. Landon—”

  “Wuzn’t s’posed to tell you shit, he wuz meant to tell Jasper.”

  “What? Why?”

  I snapped my mouth shut, realising I’d let slip.

  “Why Jasper?” Dante growled.

  “They tried to set up an ambush for him. Jonah...” I stopped myself in time before saying thinks. I glanced at Jack, afraid he would call me out on it, since I was the one who’d told the Devil’s Crew about Jasper. They hadn’t suspected him at all, Jonah taking me at my word.

  “The DC wanted to kill Jasper cos of Ronnie’s death,” I said instead.

  “And you didn’t tell me?!”

  “I couldn’t, the DC were holding me prisoner. I’ve only just managed to escape.”

  “That’s sounds like utter bullshit.”

  “No, it’s true, they took Annabelle too. She’s here.”

  “Put her on the line, then.”

  I passed the phone over to her.

  She snatched it off me. “Dante, are ye hurt?” She exhaled loudly, looking relieved. “Aye, they took us, but a cop got us oot.” Her face fell. “Is he going to pull through? Can I come?” She nodded. “See ye soon.” She hung up.

  “Hey!” I yelled. “I wanted to talk to him again.”

  She handed the phone back to Jack. “Ye will as soon as Jack drops us off at Middleton Hospital,” she said, looking at Jack. “Can ye please do that for us?”

  “After you give your statements.”

  “We can do that later.”

  “I need your statements.”

  “Please, Jack, we need to be there for Dante. His best friend could die. He’ll need all the support he can get.”

  Jack frowned. “Fine, but you’re not leaving my sight until I get those statements.”

  Annabelle nodded.

  “What’s wrong with Jasper?” I asked.

  “He’s been shot in the stomach and is in surgery,” Annabelle replied. “Dante’s not sure he’ll pull through.”

  I dropped my gaze, knowing I was definitely to blame. It didn’t help that my mum was looking at me, her stare accusatory.

  Jack reached out and tapped my arm, drawing my attention to him. “Don’t feel guilty,” he said. “Jasper Rake
te doesn’t deserve your sympathies.”

  “What do ye mean by that?” Annabelle asked.

  “He murdered Jonah’s son and ex,” Jack replied.

  Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Jasper killed them?”

  “Yes, Phelia found out.”

  Annabelle’s head whipped around to me. “Really?”

  I shrugged, scared she would tell Dante. And even more scared he’d blame me for Jasper getting shot.

  Her ginger brows pulled together. “So, did ye or didn’t ye find oot?”

  “I just heard he murdered them,” I replied. “But Jonah already knew.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Jack interrupted, his stare penetrating. “He was suspicious of the Rata kid, not the Rakete kid. He only went after Jasper on your say.”

  “It wuzn’t like that.”

  “It most definitely was. You told Jonah that Jasper confessed to the murders.”

  Annabelle gasped, “Ye told on Jasper?”

  “I didn’t tell on him,” I snapped, thinking she sounded like a little kid, pointing her finger at me and calling me a tattletale.

  Annabelle’s face hardened. “Ye did! Ye handed Dante’s best mate over on a platter.”

  “I’m telling ya, it wuzn’t like that!”

  Jack cut back in, “Shouting won’t change the fact you set this kid up. So, tell me the truth before I charge you with—”

  “You can’t charge me!”

  “Oh, I most certainly can, and you better pray that this kid doesn’t die, because you could be held accountable since you knew that Jonah would go after him.”

  “I didn’t have a choice!” I started babbling, fear causing me to spill everything. I told him about both Jasper and Jonah threatening me and my mum, detailing each of their attacks, desperately trying to make him understand that, again, I had no choice.

  “So, you’re confirming that you lied to Jonah about Jasper being his son’s killer?”

  “Yes! I had to!”

  “No, ye didn’t!” Annabelle yelled. “And I’m going to tell Dante.”

  “You can’t! He’ll hate me.”

  “He already does.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “I’m not, but even if I was, he’ll definitely hate ye now after ye got his best mate shot. And if Jasper dies, he’ll hate ye even more.”

  “If you tell him anything, I’ll kill you!”

  “Phelia!” my mum barked. “What has gotten into you?”

  I started crying, everything too much. “I love him, Mum. I love Dante with all my heart and soul, and she,” I pointed at Annabelle, “is tryna take him away from me. He said I wuz beautiful, said he wanted to be with me, so she’s lying to get him.”

  “I’m not going after Dante,” Annabelle retorted. “He disnae like me like that, while he likes ye even less. And no matter how much ye plead, I’m still going to tell him ye’re responsible for Jasper getting shot.”

  I went for her, wanting to bash her head in. Jack darted in front of me, shoving me away, yelping as I knocked his injured arm.

  My mum yanked me back. “Phelia! Stop it!”

  “She’s gonna ruin my life!” I screamed.

  Annabelle ignored me, checking on Jack, who was moaning in pain, clutching his arm. Her angry green eyes shot to me. “Ye hurt Jack!”

  Next thing she was on me, punching me in the mouth, the cheek, her fists flying. My mum let go of me and shoved Annabelle away, pushing herself in between us.

  “Stop this now!” she barked.

  Annabelle went back to Jack’s side. “Ye’re done for, Phelia,” she said, her glare venomous. “Dante’s gonna know all aboot what ye did and ye cannae stop it.”

  I brought a shaky hand to my mouth, blood coming from it. “I’ll tell him you’re lying,” I sobbed, everything on the inside and outside hurting.

  “Go for it and see who he believes, ’cause I know it’ll be me.”

  “It won’t be. He cares ’bout me, not you!” I yelled, taking a hankie from my mum.

  Annabelle sneered at me, then turned to Jack. “Ye all right, love?” she asked, her voice soft.

  He nodded, though his expression was pained.

  I placed the hankie against my mouth and buried my face in my mum’s shoulder, knowing I’d be in even more pain if Dante believed Annabelle.

  33

  Dante

  I’d been pacing the waiting room floor, unable to stay still, absolutely terrified Jasper was going to die. He was in surgery, the doctors working to save him.

  My dad moved in front of me, stopping me mid-stride. “Come sit down,” he said, placing a hand on my arm.

  I shook my head and resumed pacing, passing the elderly Pākehā couple for the hundredth time. They were throwing worried glances at my dad, probably shitting their lily-white undies because he was obviously a gang member. But I didn’t give a fuck what they thought. I only cared about Jasper. My best friend...

  An avalanche of emotions hit me all at once, tumbling over me, weighing me down, making it impossible to take another step. I closed my eyes, unable to stop from tearing up. I couldn’t take it if he died, would feel so lost without him. I didn’t care that he was a cunt to me half the time, because the other half made up for it a hundredfold.

  A touch of guilt hit me too. He wouldn’t have gone outside if I hadn’t taken off. His dad wouldn’t have been killed either. A sob built up from my chest, breaking free. I gripped onto my hair, not wanting Hemi to be gone. Wanting him to be here, pacing the corridor instead of me. He didn’t deserve to die, he...he...

  “Oh, son,” my dad said, pulling me into his arms. “Jasper’s strong, he’ll pull through.”

  But Hemi wouldn’t ... hadn’t.

  And now there was a real chance I could lose Jasper as well.

  I gripped onto my dad, using him as a lifeline, willing his words to be true, that Jasper would pull through. Through my teary vision I could see Killer’s tense physique. He was sitting a couple of seats away from the elderly couple, bent over, with his hands covering his face. He was wearing his shirt again, bloodstained from his gunshot wound, which was bandaged, the bullet gone.

  His phone rang. He pulled it out whiplash fast, barking into it, “Hemi?” He was still refusing to believe his brother was dead, no amount of trying to convince him working.

  Killer’s face contorted. “Fuck off, bitch!” he yelled into the phone. “I don’t ever wanna see or hear from you again.” He went quiet, then started shaking his head. “No! You’re nuthin’ but a lying cunt, Ngaire.” He pushed to his feet, his muscular body tensing again, the vein along his forearm protruding. “No! He’s not dead!”

  The elderly couple got up and left the room as fast as they could.

  “Stop talkin’ to me!” he screamed into the phone.

  He threw it at the far wall, the people sitting in the chairs ducking. They pushed up and rushed out of the room too. My dad let go of me as Killer picked up the magazine table, sending it crashing into the chairs.

  “Stop it, Killer!” my dad said, latching onto his arm.

  Killer yanked free and turned on my dad, yelling, “Hemi’s not dead!”

  My dad placed his hands on Killer’s shoulders. “Calm down or they’ll kick you out. You needa be ’ere for Jasper.”

  I glanced at the nurses. The two women were hiding behind their desk, one of them on the phone, probably ringing security.

  “How ’bout you sit down?” my dad said to Killer.

  Killer shook his head, his tear-filled eyes focused on my dad. “Tell me he’s alive. Pleeaase.”

  My dad’s face twisted with grief too. “I can’t.”

  Killer pushed my dad’s hands off him. “You can! You just refuse to.”

  “I’d be lying if I did.”

  “You always lie,” Killer choked out. “Why stop now?”

  “It won’t change a thing. He’ll still be dead.”

  “No!”

  Killer threw a punch at him. My d
ad ducked and rammed Killer against the wall with his shoulder. Killer yelled out and tried to push my dad away, but my dad grabbed his arms, pressing them against the wall, using all of his body to immobilise him. Killer continued to struggle against him, but couldn’t get free, my dad a brick wall.

  “He’s not dead!” Killer screamed.

  “He is,” my dad said, softly. “He is.”

  “No, no, no...”

  Killer stopped fighting, his words turning into sobs. My dad let go of Killer’s arms and pulled him into a hug, murmuring to him softly, grief dismantling his phobia. After a minute, he unravelled Killer from his arms and directed him to sit down. Taking the seat next to him, my dad pulled Killer close again. Killer rested his head against my dad’s shoulder and closed his eyes, tears glistening in his eyelashes.

  My dad indicated for me to come over, his concerned gaze shifting to two policemen as they entered the waiting room. I shot over to my dad and sat down next to him. I didn’t recognise the cops, but I still didn’t want to be anywhere near them.

  The redheaded cop took in the mess Killer had made. “Were you involved in the Matich shootings?” he asked, his gaze settling on Killer’s injured arm.

  “What’s it to ya?” my dad snapped.

  “Just answer the question,” the cop replied, his voice unflinching, my dad’s appearance and bite having no effect on him.

  “Yes,” I answered before my dad got us arrested. “The Devil’s Crew MC attacked us.”

  “What are your names?” the cop said, pulling out a notepad.

  “None of your fuckin’ business,” my dad barked. “We have a right to be ’ere without you pigs harassing us.”

  “Dad!” I yelled. “You wanna get arrested?”

  “I know my rights.”

  “He just asked for your name, so stop goin’ nuts at him. I don’t wanna hafta leave cos of you.”

  My dad grunted. “Fine, I’m Tane Rata. This is Painkiller Rakete,” he said, giving Killer a squeeze, “and yeah, it’s his real name.” He indicated with his head towards me. “And this is my son.”

  “Is his name Dante?”

  My dad let go of Killer. “What’s it to ya, pig?” he growled, glaring at the cop suspiciously.

  “Dad!” I said, worried he was going to lose his shit. “Stop tryna bait him.”