Ever Hayes - Redemption

“Okay.” Lazzo nodded and pursed his lips. “I understand.”

He seemed to agree that was the way it would go down. I didn’t know for certain. I was merely angling to have equal input in all our future moves and decisions. I finally let go of his hand. “And one last thing…” I leaned in toward Lazzo and whispered, “No matter what happens, Danny will be coming for you.”

He stepped back, his face betraying a slight twinge of fear before he composed himself enough to reply, “I’m counting on it.”

Somehow, through all the trauma and drama of mom dying and America crumbling I’d learned to tuck away my emotions—at least enough to not let them get in the way of what needed to be done. I’d gotten used to tragedy. That was a horrible reality. In this instance the loss of Sam hurt so much one second—the clutches of pain so tight on my heart—and the next second I’d shaken it off, channeling my anger and bitterness into adrenaline and motivation. I wanted to kill Lazzo—to tear his arms off and beat him to death with them, but I had to put the needs of Reagan, Abbey and Emily ahead of my wants. Their lives depended on me helping this murderer—a most unfortunate truth.

I’d never get over how and why Sam died that night. He was killed for being there. Lazzo was too afraid he couldn’t pull off the kidnapping with Sam around, and he knew Sam would bring the Pack after us if he let him go—so he killed him.

It was clear as I drove toward the house that no one had heard the shots. No lights followed us. I doubted anyone was tracking us at the Hexagon and everyone at Redemption Island was paying attention to the carrier in the channel. I was curious how long it would be before someone noticed we hadn’t returned. Tara had given Emily an hour to get back to the Big House, but she and Ryan didn’t live there—and probably weren’t still up. They might not even know.

We pulled up to a tall steel gate that opened automatically for us, and drove down a long gravel driveway—with the lights off for some reason—before cutting across the grass and pulling into a shed. I saw two men in masks come out of a trapdoor in the ground. They opened the back doors and demanded Reagan and the girls get out. Lazzo let me hug each of them, and he kept his word. He spoke rather sternly to each of the men in some African language. I didn’t understand anything they said, but he assured me they’d promised not to hurt the girls. He didn’t know what their word was worth, but Lazzo had warned them they’d never get what they wanted if any of those girls were hurt. It was, as he said, the best he could do.

Another man hopped into the back of the van and rode with us to the marina. For some reason Lazzo didn’t say a word to him, and the man remained silent as well. I only caught a glimpse of him once, and he happened to be looking at me. I could have been wrong, but I swore he was white. What the hell? Lazzo was Libyan and he’d implied these people were like him—at least they were from the same country. I knew—from high school geography—many Libyans were of Arabic descent but their skin was more like Blake’s—more Hawaiian—a far cry from snow-white mine. This guy was snow-white.

When we reached the marina, the other man took off with the van, presumably back to the compound. I’d gotten a better look at him and he was definitely snow-white. If he was American… I wasn’t exactly sure what the ramifications of that could be. It would definitely open up a whole new can of worms.

Lazzo and I climbed into our small boat and headed for the USS George Washington . We made it to the carrier around 1:00 a.m. and climbed the long unguarded ladder up the side. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about pushing Lazzo off the carrier as he stepped up and off the ladder. But on the chance he’d somehow survive, or that all it took was a button push on the way down to kill my family…or even if it was because I’d promised I wouldn’t—whatever the case was—I didn’t do it.

We dodged a few dozing guards and found a vacant bunk room in an unlit part of the carrier that apparently wasn’t being used. Best as I could, I made myself comfortable and caught a few fitful hours of sleep. Before I drifted off, I wondered if anyone even knew we were missing. Probably not .

“What are you doing here?”

The voice startled me awake. I opened my eyes and started to sit up until I noticed the rifle pointed at my head. The person holding it took a step back as I moved. She didn’t look a day over sixteen, and her hands were shaking. “Easy.” I sat all the way up slowly.

She looked around anxiously, clearly not sure what she was supposed to do. She repeated her question. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just looking for somewhere quiet to sleep.” I looked around the room. Where the hell is Lazzo?

“Where’s your ID tag?”

“ID tag?” As soon as I asked the question, I knew I shouldn’t have. If I belonged on the carrier, I would have known what that was.

My response confirmed her suspicions. “Stand up.”

“How old are you?” I slowly did as she’d told me.

The girl’s voice cracked when she responded. “Don’t talk.”

I actually felt bad for her, and she was the one holding the gun. I couldn’t miss her finger twitching near the trigger though. She was scared and maybe had never fired a gun before. “Listen to me. Please… I can explain.” She didn’t object, so I continued. “I wanted to go fight too, but my parents wouldn’t let me—”

Her laughter cut me off. “You wanted to go fight?” She was shaking her head. “Who says that? Who wants to go fight?”

“You don’t?”

“Hell no,” she replied firmly. “I don’t. But I have to.”

“Why?” I tried to keep her undivided attention as I glimpsed Lazzo creeping up behind her. “Why do you have to go fight?”

“My dad—”

“Your dad is making you fight?” In surprise I watched her nod. “What kind of dad—”

“The captain kind of dad.”

“The cap—” Holy shit! Captain Baker—the guy Danny and Blake both hate? That guy has a kid? “You’re—”

“Yes.” She paused. “I’m the captain’s daughter.”

“Baker?” I had to ask, just to be sure. And Lazzo was almost close enough to grab her.

“Of course,” the girl almost snorted. “You think boy wonder has a kid?”

Boy Wonder? Did she mean Danny? Lazzo reached her at that moment and grabbed the gun, wrenching it out of her hands before she could react. He brought it up into her face, knocking her to the floor, and stood over her with the barrel pointing at the girl’s head. “No… he doesn’t.” I smiled. She had to mean Danny . “But he has a sister.” I patted my chest twice.

“We must kill her.”

“No, Lazzo.” Though it didn’t sound like the worst idea.

“It’s not your decision,” Lazzo muttered in a near growl. “If we don’t kill her, she’ll tell her dad we’re here.”

“Lazzo—”

“Shut up, Hayley. If we don’t kill her, this place will be full of guns.”

“If we do shoot her this place will be full of guns.” I stepped between the barrel of the rifle and the girl lying trembling on the floor. She had a split lip and tears in her eyes, but she was impressively quiet. “Now is not the time to be stupid, Lazzo. No more than you’ve already been anyway.” I stared him down.

Anger flashed in his eyes. “Don’t push me Hayley. I’ll shoot you—”