by Jadyn Chase
She spun around and shrieked at him. “I told you I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never heard of any Josiah Hunter and I don’t know what the hell Los Diablos is. I don’t remember anything before just now. Why can’t you let me go?”
Carlos fixed his flinty gaze on her and his jaw clenched. “You don’t know what Los Diablos is? This is Los Diablos.”
He thrust out his forearm to reveal his own tattoo. He tightened his fist and the muscles of his forearm rippled under the smooth skin. The dragon undulated around the wheel and the flames danced in a circle.
“See?” he murmured. “This is Los Diablos. It’s not like yours, but you still know what it is. Either you know something about Josiah Hunter that no one else on the planet knows or you’re lying through your teeth. My money’s on the latter.”
He wheeled away and strode to where I stood. “Take her to The Zone. Keep her there and don’t let her out of your sight until you hear from me. We’ll go clean out the bunker, so this might take a while.”
My head snapped up and I blinked at him. He couldn’t do this to me. He couldn’t saddle me with babysitting this bitch while he and the boys got the fun of ripping off another club for all their valuable goods.
Carlos caught my expression and arched one eyebrow. “Do you have a problem, Brayden?”
I gritted my teeth and pushed myself off the table. “No, Sir.”
He laid one hand on my shoulder and murmured in my ear so no one could hear him. “I’m trusting you with this because I know you’ll see it done. I don’t trust anyone else. I’m giving you this job because of the good work you did today. I’m proud of you. This is important. I wouldn’t give it to anyone else.”
My guts flipped. He was trusting me with an important job. He wasn’t cutting me out after all.
He barged back to his office and left me standing there looking down at this wisp of a girl. I would take her to The Zone and that meant no flying. I had to do this the old fashioned way.
Christ, her face looked awful. I didn’t want to hurt her any more than she’d already been hurt, but I could see in her eyes she wasn’t going to make this easy on any of us.
I opened a drawer in the table and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. With luck, that would hold her long enough to get her to a safe place. I advanced on the couch and she looked up to glare at me.
I dangled the cuffs in front of her and cracked a grin. “How about you put these on for me?”
“Go fuck yourself, asshole,” she spat.
The other guys burst out laughing. “Good one, Brayden,” Tomas called. “Nice try.”
I smirked down at the girl. Morgan. Her name was Morgan. “If you don’t put them on yourself, I’ll have to do it.”
She curled back her lips and snarled like a cornered dog. “I’d like to see you try, motherfucker.”
Cisco chuckled and sauntered toward me nice and slow. Tomas moved in from the other side. Even with all three of us looming over her, she gave me a queer pang of misgiving in my guts. I didn’t like our chances against this puny little girl. That feral glint in her eyes told me she would fight like a devil—like a Diablo.
I sized her up while she sized up all three of us. The longer I hesitated, the more advantage I threw to her. I had to make this quick and sudden, shock and awe.
The energy exploded out of my so fast I didn’t see it coming. I dropped the cuffs and pounced on her with all my strength. I never entered a fight against a man bristling with that kind of aggression, but it turned out I needed every scrap of it.
I snatched her arms the way Cisco did, but I didn’t try to wrestle them above her head. I crossed them across her chest so her hands stuck out at either side. At the same instant, I threw myself on top of her and pinned her to the couch with all my weight.
She roared in frustrated rage—or was that pain? I couldn’t think about that right now. As I expected, she erupted in a maelstrom of pent-up power. She screeched and writhed under me. She took all my effort and concentration to maintain my grip on her arms.
I didn’t plan on her legs, though. She kicked one knee up and caught me in the groin. Thank the stars she missed the crown jewels, but she jabbed her bony kneecap into my thigh and made me flinch.
The next instant, Cisco, Tomas, Kane, and Logan all tackled her at once. Two of them grabbed her legs. Kane scooped up the cuffs and succeeded in locking one of them on her wrist.
She lashed out with her legs harder than ever. She kicked Cisco off and smashed her heel into his jaw with the next blow. He toppled like a bowling pin and crumpled to the floor. Tomas did his best to restrain her other leg, but now that she got one of them free, she set up an unholy fight he couldn’t manage.
Kane let go of her wrists to help him out. Between him and Tomas, they locked her legs down on the cushions and held them in place with all their bulk. The girl bellowed and contorted in every direction. Her eyes rotated around the warehouse in maniac abandon. I never saw a woman fight like that out of sheer terrified desperation.
Logan made a grab for the cuffs and twisted them toward her other wrist. He missed his grip and she whipped one arm out from under me. I thundered over the noise to make myself heard. “Hold her, boy!”
“I’m trying!” he yelled back. “Fuck, she’s strong!”
This couldn’t go on. I grabbed a fistful of her tank top. By main strength, I forced her over on her side and crammed her arms into the couch. She wrenched out of my grip and her shirt twisted aside to reveal her bra.
“Now, Logan!” I bellowed. “Do it now.”
He dove for the cuffs and hauled the last one toward her other wrist. I almost passed out with relief when it snapped into place. I checked over my shoulder to see Kane locking another set around her ankles.
The three of us eased off panting for breath. Just then, Carlos strolled out of his office and frowned at us. “Is everything under control out here?”
I propped my hands on my knees puffing and sweating. “Yeah. It’s under control.”
Cisco sat up on the floor and rubbed his jaw. He shook his head and looked around before he spotted the girl. She wriggled and struggled on the couch, but no matter which way she turned, she couldn’t get away.
Kane stretched his back and ran his sleeve across his forehead. “Now what do you want to do?”
I waved toward the open door. “Give me a hand carrying her outside, will you?”
Logan gasped. “You’re not gonna ride with her like that, are you?”
I took a stance next to the girl’s head. “I sure as hell am not going to walk her across town if that’s what you had in mind. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
“You son of a bitch!” the girl screeched. “I’ll kill you for this! Let me go! You have no right to do this to me.”
I did my best to block her screams out of my ears. No wonder The Desperados beat her so badly. She must have driven them out of their senses.
I nodded to Kane. He joined me at her head. I got under one armpit while he took the other. Logan scooped up her legs, and Cisco supported her hips. We hoisted the shrieking girl off the couch, but it still took all of us working our utmost to carry her out of the building.
The boys stood her on her feet next to my bike. I scowled at the vehicle. How did I get myself roped into this? I took out my keys, slung my leg over the saddle, and plugged the key into the ignition.
I settled there for a moment just to get my bearings. Of all the dangerous jobs I undertook for this club, this capped them all. I would rather go into battle against armed thugs with a slim possibility of survival than transport this sprite across town on my own ride.
I never avoided a job before, and I wasn’t about to start. I gave the boys a clipped nod and they grabbed the girl. They spun her around and shoved her down on the seat in front of me.
She snapped her teeth at everyone trying to bite them. She seized a handful of Cisco’s hair and nearly ripped it out of his scalp. She punched and kicked a
s bad as ever. The cuffs did nothing to quell her spirit.
She plunked down on the seat in front of me screeching and snarling, “You motherfuckers! You cocksuckers! You sons of bitches! I’ll rip every last one of you to pieces. Get the fuck off me! Don’t you touch me! You can’t do this to me! Get away from me! Don’t you dare!”
I closed my arms around her gathering my willpower to do what had to be done. I let her scream herself hoarse. The minute she stopped, I ducked in and smashed my brow against the side of her head.
I hissed low in her ear. “Listen to me, little girl. You listen to me real good. Understand? I’m gonna start this bike and we’re gonna drive across town to a safe place. No one will hurt you or bother you. The Desperados won’t come after you there, but by Christ, you’re gonna sit still on this bike, or we’re both gonna be paste on the highway. Do you hear me?”
My voice shook getting the words out, but I already knew what I had to do. Whether she struggled or not, we were doing this. I wouldn’t turn aside from my course. She could do her worst. She wouldn’t change my mind or make me back down.
She froze there in my arms. She stopped moving and held herself stiff and tense, but at least she didn’t move or speak. I waited a moment just to make sure she got the message. Then I turned the ignition.
The bike roared to life and I kicked up the stand. I put her in gear and revved the throttle. The other guys laughed and Tomas slapped me on the back. “Good luck, Brayden.”
I let out the clutch. She still didn’t move. She balanced on the seat like she knew what she was doing and she didn’t try to stop me holding her in place with my arms.
I motored out of the yard and onto the street. The farther I got from the warehouse, the more I settled into the steady groove of driving. She really was going to sit there and let me take her.
After a few more miles, she relaxed. Her posture slouched and she slumped into my arms. Poor kid. Her injuries must really hurt.
I drove for half an hour and hit commuter traffic. I puttered through stop and go bullshit for fifteen minutes when, without warning, her head tumbled onto my shoulder. She wilted against me and her whole body went slack.
At the next pause, I peered down to find her sound asleep. My heart ached for her. I would do anything for her, but I couldn’t let my guard down. Carlos told me to watch her. The instant she woke up, she would try to get away again. I already knew that.
For now, though, she rested in the hollow of my arms. The next time I braked, I bent down and smelled her hair. She smelled good and I pressed my nose to her scalp. Her hair felt good against my lips. She never needed to know.
I wheeled into The Zone and punched the combination into the lock. The wrought-iron gate slid back and I rumbled up the driveway. When I got in sight of the building, the garage door opened and I dropped into the underground parking basement.
I veered the bike into one of the spaces and switched off the engine. The girl still didn’t wake up. I eased my leg over the seat still supporting her inert body. I got my arms under her and hefted her into my arms. I kicked open the door, lugged her upstairs, and entered the living room.
I laid her on the couch and stood back to examine her. She looked just as horrible now as when I first laid eyes on her, but I felt different about her now. She was just helpless and scared and hurt. Whoever she was, she only reacted to this situation the way any of us would in similar circumstances. If a rival club kidnapped me, held me prisoner in an underground bunker, beat and tortured me within an inch of my life, and I woke up in a strange place with no memory of what happened, I would fight and try to escape, too.
That’s not what happened, though. That amnesia story was just a ruse. She knew who she was. She just knew how to lie.
3
Morgan
I jolted awake screaming in terror and stared all around me. Demons and monsters still crowded around me from my dreams. I scrambled to get away from them and ran into the arm of a couch.
I blinked. The dream faded. I didn’t see any monsters. I was in a living room of some house—at least it looked like it. Sunlight streamed through the windows from a wooden deck. A counter separated a kitchen from the main room. A wide-screen TV occupied one wall with couches and chairs all around it.
One man sat opposite me. He rested his black boots on the coffee table and flipped the pages of a magazine. He shot me a fleeting glance and went back to reading.
I caught my breath. I couldn’t relax. I kept looking everywhere, trying my hardest to figure out where I was and how I got here. I hugged my knees against my chest. My arms hurt. My ribs hurt. My face hurt. Everything hurt.
When I looked down, I saw bruises and cuts all over my arms and hands. What happened to me?
I caught the guy looking at me again, but he still didn’t say anything. A ping came from his pocket. He took out his phone, did something on it, and set it next to him on the seat before going back to the magazine.
No matter where I looked, nothing made sense. Who was that guy? How did I get here? Something told me to run away, to break out and get far away from him and everything else.
I surveyed the surroundings. A ten-foot stone wall blocked off the garden beyond the glass doors. A hall slotted down another side of the room leading somewhere I couldn’t see.
I almost broke the silence by asking him where I was, but I stopped myself. His demeanor told me he was no friend of mine. Pretty soon, though, curiosity and confusion won the day. No one else could tell me anything, and I couldn’t stand not knowing.
I stole a glance at him. His hard black eyes glittered at me. A bright red bandana covered his forehead. His inky black hair swept back from it. When he turned his head, I saw a tight braid of thick hair hanging down his back. A black leather belt held his black jeans around a chiseled waist A leather vest covered his black t-shirt with ripped tattooed arms jutting out from the sleeves. Where had I seen arms like that before?
A neat, trimmed black goatee highlighted his mouth and chin. Strong cheekbones and a powerful jaw gave him an exotic, brutal appearance. Those eyes, though—the eyes said it all. They flashed unmasked hatred for me. For all I knew, he was the one who hurt me like this, though I couldn’t exactly remember.
I cast a glance toward the kitchen. I couldn’t hope to find any food in there, but the sink looked particularly inviting. I needed a drink of water like I needed air to breathe.
I ran my parched tongue around my mouth. I couldn’t chance going to the sink without knowing for sure he wouldn’t attack me for moving. The only way I could do that was to talk to him.
I braced myself for the inevitable showdown and croaked out, “Where am I?”
He rested the magazine on his lap. “You’re in The Zone. This is a safe house. No one gets in and no one gets out. We’ll keep you here until we find out who you are. Of course, you could shorten that amount of time by just telling us, but you won’t do that. You’re too plug stubborn.”
He picked up his magazine and perused the pages with a bored, condescending air. I made another search of the room and came up empty. “Who are you?”
He let the magazine flop down again. He cocked his head to study me. “I’m Brayden. Don’t you remember? My name is Brayden Burke and you’re Morgan Cole.”
My gaze skated sideways. I couldn’t place what he was talking about.
“You really don’t remember, do you?” He snorted and shook his head before he lifted the magazine in front of his face. “Well, isn’t that something?”
The longer this went on, the more terrified and confused I got. I couldn’t figure out what it was I should remember. “I mean…..” I stammered, “I mean…. who are you? Who are you that wants to figure out…..whatever?” I couldn’t finish.
He slapped the magazine down with an exasperated gasp. His head whipped up. “You really don’t remember? Seriously? We’re Los Diablos.”
I opened my mouth, but my throat wouldn’t work. I had to swallow several times to m
ake any sound. “What’s Los Diablos?”
He stared at me in shock. He didn’t even blink. All at once, he thrust out his forearm to expose the vulnerable inner skin below his elbow. A simple dragon tribal tattoo and a banner above announced to the world, Los Diablos.
“That’s Los Diablos,” he told me, “and so are you, except we don’t brand someone on the shoulder like that, so we know you didn’t get that patch from us. The sooner you tell us where you got it, the sooner we can let you go.”
He picked up his magazine. I didn’t understand half of what he said, but that image on his arm meant something to me. It reminded me of something. I just couldn’t figure out what.
He went back to reading and pretended to ignore me. I wouldn’t get any more answers out of him. I lowered my gaze and my eyes came to rest on two pairs of handcuffs. They sat on the coffee table next to his heel.
The whole scene from the warehouse unfolded in my mind. I remembered everything—waking up on the couch, the interview with that big guy who took my wallet and my phone, Brayden and the others cuffing me, and them putting me on Brayden’s bike.
The memory ended halfway across town, so I must have passed out. I couldn’t remember anything before waking up in the warehouse.
I looked around again. This room resembled any other house, but it was really just a nice-looking prison. I had to get out of here. I had to get away from Brayden. He kidnapped me once. He would stop at nothing to hold me here against my will. In the meantime, I had to get some water to drink before I lost my mind from thirst.
Brayden startled me out of my senses by speaking over his magazine. “You should take a shower and clean yourself up ‘cuz you look like shit. We have a first aid kit with some antiseptic for those cuts, but I gotta tell you. I have to sit outside the room when you do. My Boss ordered me not to let you out of my sight, so I won’t.”
He glanced up to gauge my reaction. Without thinking, I glanced toward the kitchen again. I didn’t want a shower. I didn’t care how bad I looked. I needed water. Then I needed to concentrate on the problem of getting something to eat.