Without looking back, Tequila lifts us off the ground. "Job well done, sir." She tells me.
"Received." Leaning my head back, I close my eyes, trying to relieve the building pressure behind my tired eyes. "Take us home."
Chapter Two
Luna
The world around me is silent. I hear nothing but can feel everything. And right now, my body is on fire. My body screams in pain as I'm jolted around by the jerking movements of the car I'm currently in.
The trunk to be more specific.
Several minutes pass before I feel the car come to a stop. The vehicle vibrates as the door is opened and slammed shut. A moment later, the cold night air hits my face. My body goes weightless as someone lifts me from the trunk of the car and carries my limp body off somewhere.
I count ten steps — 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.
The person carrying me tosses my body like a rag doll; followed by what feels like thousands of tiny needles stabbing me all over my body as I hit the cold damp ground. It's a struggle to breathe, and I am so weak I can't seem to open my eyes. I let out a groan, and though I can't hear it, I know the noise that just escaped my mouth has drawn attention to me. I crack my eyes open to slits to find my boyfriend's brother Pike staring down at me and I read his lips.
"Shit, man. She's still alive."
I cut my eyes over to the car to see Rex climb out of the passenger seat and stride in my direction. His advance and the look on his face causes my heart to jump into my throat. I watch his lips as he speaks.
"Not for long." His face carries an expression I have not seen before. He's looking at me as though I am a bug that needs to be squashed. He is not the same man who has been sweet and tender with me for the past few months — the man who has doted on me and made me feel special. "You should have minded your own business, Luna. Such a fuckin' shame," Rex sneers crouching down close to my face; making sure I can understand what he's saying. Then without hesitation, he stands to his full height, and the next thing I feel is the heavy weight of his boot coming down on my head. Fiery pain explodes through my skull, sending me into darkness.
I feel as though I'm trapped in a dark tunnel with no way out. With a considerable amount of strength and determination, I opened my eyes. The light that surrounds me is so bright I squeeze them shut then open them once again; this time, my vision clears. I notice an IV bag hanging above my head to my right, and I'm reasonably sure I am in a moving vehicle. Suddenly, a man appears in my line of sight, hovering over my body. I focus on his face as he speaks to me. "Ma'am, can you tell me your name?" he asks. My hands feel like dead weight. I don't have the strength to lift them, and I don't get the chance to answer the stranger. With the excruciating pain that has consumed my entire being, I welcome the darkness that claims me once again.
I don't know how much time has passed when I jolt awake. I'm greeted by that damn blinding white light again. I struggle to move as I'm taken over with panic. I don't think there is a part of my body that doesn't hurt. A pair of strong hands press against my shoulders, holding me down. The person restraining me is unaware I am deaf and need my hands to sign because they grab hold of my arms in another attempt to calm me. "Miss, you're at the hospital. Everything is going to be okay." I focus on the man's mouth. Blinking my eyes several times, the blurry figure in front of me becomes clearer as I try to clear the fog from my brain to make sense of what is happening.
The man in front of me is wearing a white coat, and I have concluded that I am at a hospital. Standing next to him is a nurse with a gray bob wearing blue scrubs. I relax my body a bit, and the doctor releases his hold. A wave of nausea suddenly washes over me, and I begin to vomit. The nurse swiftly rolls my body sideways, where I proceed to lose the contents of my stomach all over the floor. The strain of vomiting causes my head to feel like it's about to burst. I have never felt pain like this in my life. My vision starts to blur once again as I'm thrust back into the dark tunnel and the world around me slowly fades away.
My eyes flutter open, and for a moment, I'm confused as to where I am. I look around the hospital room I'm currently in, and my memory quickly returns.
I wake in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Sitting, my eyes adjust to the darkness, and I find myself alone. Pulling the blanket back, I climb out of bed, grab my sleep shorts from the floor beside me and tug them on followed by a shirt. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stroll toward the bedroom door. Opening it, I peer down the hallway and see nothing. The parties here can last well into the early morning hours, but right now it appears everyone has turned in. When I walk into the common room, I see a few of the club members asleep in various spots. One on the sofa, one on the pool table and a couple of men and women are passed out on the floor. Bypassing them, I make my way past the bar and down the hall toward the kitchen. Just as I am about to enter the kitchen, I spot the light on at the end of the hall where Rex's office is. With a smile on my face, I head in that direction. When I reach his office, I notice the door is cracked open and what I see wipes the smile from my face. I cannot hear the words spoken, but I see a man dressed in a suit, on his knees in front of my boyfriend with his hands tied behind his back.
I notice the man's lips moving, but from this angle, I can't make out what he is saying. All while my boyfriend has a gun aimed at his head. Without warning, Rex smiles and pulls the trigger. I have never in my life seen so much blood. Oh my God! My boyfriend just killed a man. I cover my mouth with my hand, but it must not stifle the sob I so desperately try to choke back. Rex cuts his eyes over to the door to see me standing there. I'm temporarily stunned, but when Rex goes to advance in my direction, I turn and run. My effort to escape is fruitless. I don't make it ten feet before my hair is grabbed from behind and I am thrown to the floor. He then continues to kick me several times in my stomach and ribs. Turning my face up to meet Rex, I'm met by my boyfriends enraged face as he brings his fist down on my cheek. Rex begins to land blow after blow until I finally pass out.
I'm brought back to the present when a nurse walks into my room. The woman looks to be in her thirties with brown hair and a kind smile. I study her as she begins to talk. "It's good to see you awake." I read her lips.
Lifting my hands, I begin to sign. She looks shocked for a moment. I then make a gesture for a paper and pen. The nurse quickly walks over to the table next to the bed, opens the drawer, and produces a notepad with the hospital logo, and gives me a pen. I scribble on the paper. I am deaf but can read lips. I turn the notebook over for the nurse to read. She scans the paper and smiles.
"We happen to have an interpreter on staff. How about I page her. I know the doctor would like to go over your injuries with you as well," she finishes, and I nod in agreement.
About ten minutes later, the nurse returns with the doctor who is an older gentleman with gray hair, and with him is a short woman with red hair who I am assuming is the interpreter. She immediately begins to sign. "Hello. My name is Marie, and I'll be your interpreter while you are here."
"Thank you, Marie. My name is Luna Novak," I tell her.
"Okay, Luna. If it's alright with you, Dr. Cates would like to go over your injuries. Also, a detective is waiting outside your room, and she would like for you to answer some questions."
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. Do I want to talk to the police? Deciding Rex does not deserve to get away with killing that man or what he has done to me, I open my eyes and nod.
Over the next fifteen minutes, Dr. Cates recaps what has happened in the last twenty-four hours. I was brought in by ambulance. Lucky for me a passerby spotted my lifeless body on the side of the road, and he called 911. I have a concussion, a black eye, busted lip, and bruised ribs. I am thankful, and a little surprised nothing else is broken. "I'd like to keep you here for at least another day for observation, Miss Novak," Dr. Cates informs.
I sign, "okay." At this point, I don't have the energy to argue. Maybe being here is what is best, at least until Rex is caught.
Once the nurse checks my vitals, she, and the doctor leave. After they are gone, a woman dressed in a pantsuit with a badge clipped to her belt steps into the room, she motions to the chair sitting beside the bed, and I nod. She takes a seat and begins to speak. She acknowledges the interpreter then introduces herself to me. "Hi, Miss Novak. I'm Detective Brooks. Are you feeling well enough for me to ask you some questions?"
"Yes," I sign.
"Can you tell me how you ended up on the side of the road. Do you remember who hurt you?"
I take a deep breath. "It was my boyfriend."
"What's his name?"
"Rex Sullivan."
Detective Brooks is taking notes, but the moment I say Rex's name, her head snaps up. "Rex Sullivan? As in the President of Savage Outlaw?" she questions. And by the expression on her face, he is well known and not in a good way.
"Yes," I answer.
"I see," she purses her lips. "And are you aware of the kind of person your boyfriend and his club are, Miss Novak?"
I can tell right away the detective is judging me. "No, Detective. Up until twenty-four hours ago, I had no idea Rex was capable of doing what he did to me." I close my eyes as a tear escapes down my cheek. I feel foolish. I was so desperate for affection; I put blinders on to who he really was. Granted Rex never let me see that side of him before, I still should have known better. The next time Detective Brooks speaks her face has softened a little.
"Can you start from the beginning? What led you here?"
Swiping the tears from my eyes, my hands move quickly. "I had stayed the night at his clubhouse like I had done so many times in the months we have seen each other. I woke in the middle of the night and went looking for him when he wasn't in bed. I saw the light was on in his office. The door was cracked when I approached it. I saw a man on his knees in front of Rex. I couldn't make out anything they were saying. A couple of seconds went by with them talking; then Rex shot the man in the head. I must have made a noise because he saw me. I tried to run, but he caught me. Rex beat me right then and there. I passed out. When I woke up, I was in the trunk of a car. Rex and his brother Pike dumped me on the side of the road. Where; I don't know; the last thing I remember was Rex telling me I should have minded my own business. He then kicked me in the head, knocking me out. The next thing I know I'm in the hospital," I finish my body trembling.
"How long were you and Rex seeing each other?"
"About three months."
"In those three months you were seeing the President of Savage Outlaw, you not once saw a side to him you saw last night? You never witnessed any of his illegal activity?" the detective lifts a brow.
I shake my head and continue to sign. "No. I know that is hard for you to believe, but Rex had never shown his true colors until I witnessed him kill that man in his office. He had always been nice to me. He was a good boyfriend, or so I thought." Feeling utterly exhausted, I let my arms fall limp to the bed, and sigh.
Detective Brooks stands. "I'll leave you to rest. The information you gave me is enough for us to arrest Rex Sullivan. I'll stop back by again in the morning with an update. I will be posting an officer outside your door. Once Rex is picked up, his club may retaliate."
Suddenly, fear takes over. I force myself to sit up. "Do you think that is necessary?" I sign in a panic.
"Yes, Miss Novak, I do. Your boyfriend has been our main suspect in at least a dozen homicides over the past five years. None of the charges have ever stuck. Either due to lack of evidence or the witnesses come up missing." Detective Brooks lets her statement hang. My breathing picks up, and I'm sure my panic is written all over my face. Detective Brooks takes a step closer to the bed, meeting my eyes. "I assure you none of his men will get to you. For now, the hospital is the safest place for you. You will be guarded twenty-four seven. Once Rex is in custody, I'll come back here, and we'll figure out our next move. For now, Miss Novak, you need to concentrate on getting better." With that, Detective Brooks walks out of the hospital room, and I am left with no choice but to believe her. I have to. My life is literally in her hands.
Turning to the interpreter, she gives me a look of worry and sadness before she too takes her leave. But before she goes, she has assured me she will let the nurses know she will remain on call around the clock in case I need anything. Once I'm left alone with my thoughts, I have no choice but to reflect on how I got here.
I've lived in Arizona my whole life. I grew up in the system being shuffled around from one foster home to the next. It didn't take the foster parent long to realize they didn't want the hassle of a special needs child and having to learn sign language. I was born with a genetic disorder that causes hearing loss over time. I had gone completely deaf by the age of four. Learning sign language had been frustrating, but I was eager to communicate. Not once did I pity myself or give up. That sort of thing is just not in me. I don't see myself as having a disability. I simply speak a different language.
By the time I was ten, I had been in my fifth foster home. I learned it was easier to keep a notebook and pen on hand because not one of the families I lived with knew how to communicate with me any other way. Sooner or later, having to talk that way became too much for them. I was an inconvenience my whole childhood. It didn't matter that I was a straight A student, or that I never got in trouble. Any issue the foster families had always came down to one thing.
By the time I was a teenager, I had gotten good at reading lips and only used my notebook when necessary. It was easier to fade into the shadows and not act needy. Doing so allowed me to stay in each home longer. I think sometimes my foster parents forgot I even existed. I think that has something to do with why I ate up Rex's attention.
I was deprived of affection my whole life. It felt good to have someone finally noticed me. To have someone treat me as if I was the most important person in the world. I met Rex at a gas station three months ago. I was pumping gas, and with all the pumps occupied, he pulled up on his bike behind my car and waited for me to finish. I felt his eyes on me for a minute before he finally approached. I was so nervous, and the first thought that came to mind was how handsome he was. I will admit the first time he took me to his clubhouse and introduced me to his brothers I was nervous. A few of the members leered at me in a way that, at times, made me uncomfortable. Rex never noticed the seedy eyes of some of his friends. With his true colors exposed, I'm starting to think he did notice but didn't genuinely care.
Closing my eyes, I let out a deep breath. I've come too far in my life to have been so stupid to fall for the first man to ask me out. I am twenty-six years old and have had one boyfriend. I have spent my entire adult life, keeping myself closed off. I was comfortable being alone in my own bubble. When Rex approached me, I thought 'what the hell' and took a chance. That chance nearly killed me. Never again will I trust another man. I'm better off alone.
Chapter Three
Riggs
The low rhythmic tunes of Jazz music rouses me from sleep as it fills my room with the warm soulful voice of Nina Simone. I lay stretched out in bed for a few moments keeping my eyes closed, listening to her sing before tossing the covers to the foot of my king-sized bed. Sitting on the side of the mattress, I reach for the T.V. remote and turn on the local news, muting the sound, opting to listen to the music instead of hearing about the latest shooting here in New Orleans. Not that I prefer to be kept in the dark about my city and the crime in it, just that, right now, my mind needs a recharge from the past few weeks I have had.
Last night was my first night home since our last operation. Once the women we rescued were looked after, and I knew the process of identifying each young lady was underway, to notify their next of kin, I finally allowed the doctor to take care of my leg. Luckily my wound only required a good flush, a few stitches and a round of antibiotics to take home with me.
Standing, I stride across the room. I walk out of my bedroom door, into my living room and head for the kitchen. Dragging a mug from the c
abinet, I power on the coffee maker, pop a coffee pod into the machine and push the button. While I wait for my coffee to brew, I fill a glass with water. Twisting the top off the medicine bottle sitting on the counter, I pop a pill in my mouth, then wash it down.
When my coffee is ready, I carry it with me and walked outside onto the terrace. The warm, muggy Louisiana morning air immediately hits me. Leaning against the railing, I look out on the city of New Orleans. It's early, and for the moment, quiet. I've lived here all my life. It's where I was born and raised. My roots here run deeper than the Mississippi River.
Down on the street below, I watch a couple of birds fight over a piece of trash laying in the gutter. I live in the French Quarter in a small apartment above mine, and Wick's bar, Twisted Throttle on Bourbon Street. We bought the historical building a couple of years after leaving the service. At one point in my life, right after retiring from regular military duty, I felt a little lost. Kind of out of my element — I didn't quite know where I belonged. Being a part of a team infrastructure had been solidified — became a part of how I ran my day to day life. I traveled a lot during my military career. Took on any and every mission I could be a part of. When it came time for me to hang my boots and slow down, I couldn't settle, so I traveled — riding across the country on my Harley. One day, I found myself riding through North Montana, and remembered an old buddy from the service who once mentioned living out that way. That is when I tracked down Jake Delane. I had met him a few times overseas during our years serving our country. After meeting up with him in Polson, he talked about the MC life. I stayed in the service a few years longer than he did, and afterward, we lost touch, but the way he talked about the brotherhood stuck with me. When I found myself struggling with what I wanted to do with my life, I remembered that conversation we had. It wasn't long before I found myself staying in Polson, Montana.
Riggs (The Kings of Retribution MC, Louisiana Chapter Book 1) Page 2