Treats Aren't Always Sweet

by Harley McRide

  Casey snapped her fingers and began barking orders to the women. The guys who were paying attention as well went on alert. Freebyrd and his Vice, Stone, stepped forward to Casey who began explaining what was going on.

  Treat was calmly talking into the phone to her sister when Stone saw her go still. He looked at War who was watching Treat as well and saw the change. He motioned and both moved to Treat who had moved to the corner.

  “Jilly? Don’t say anything, just put the phone down, don’t hang it up, just put it down so I can hear. I am with you, honey,” Treat whispered.

  War grabbed the phone and listened for a moment, his face turning grim as he heard a man in the background yelling.

  “You stupid worthless woman, get your ass up and make me a sandwich,” the man yelled and he heard a grunt as if someone had been kicked again.

  Now here they were standing in a place Treat had vowed never to be caught again, so since that vow was broken, she’d be damned if she was going to let two assholes that fucked her over take this over. It was her family, and she was going to deal with it.

  Treat shoved War out of the way and kicked in the door, her gun cocked, loaded, and aimed at the half drunk slob that stood over the battered and bloodied Jilly. “You son-of-a-bitch!” She yelled, her finger already squeezing down on the trigger. One more millimeter and his head would have been splattered all over the narrow trailer walls. Not that it would do any injustice to the horrible trashy wallpaper that lined the older than dirt white trash home.

  “No!” Jilly gasped, her words gurgling blood. Hearing Jilly’s voice made her hesitate just long enough War was able to grab the gun out of her hand, and flip the safety on before she could get the shot off. Her head snapped around and she lost focus on her target, aiming her rage at the man who towered over her.

  “What the fuck!” she screamed, her body shaking with rage. “Kill that motherfucker!”

  “That’s too easy for a piece of shit like him, baby. Go check Jilly. We’ve got this.” Stone’s hands firmly gripped her upper arms and moved her inside, leading her to the girl that lay in the fetal position, barely alive. Treat was beyond pissed and full on hated Stone and War for stopping her from killing the sick fuck who’d done this to her sister, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. She had more important things to tend to right now. Later she’d make sure they got what they deserved.

  “Oh, Jillybean,” she gasped. Jilly’s blond hair was bright red with blood. The cuts on her face and head showed repetitive beatings and pain. Some were scabbed over, only knocked loose by new wounds inflicted atop them. Others were fresh and draining her blood into a puddle on the floor. Treat glanced around for something to stop the bleeding with but there wasn’t anything in reach. Without hesitating, she yanked her t-shirt off over her head and wadded it up on a huge gash that sliced across Jilly’s forehead down the side of her face. It wasn’t a clean cut, which meant he’d either bashed her head open with something or she’d been thrown into something that did it. Either way, it was bad.

  “I need to know where all it hurts, baby,” she whispered. Jilly tried to sit up, but Treat stopped her. “Hold still. Just point, honey.” Her soft voice eased some of the worry lines out of Jilly’s features and she mustered up her strength and began pointing. Her ribs, which by the way she was gasping for breath had not only been broken but also punctured a lung, stomach, shoulder—that looked to be dislocated, not broken—head, and lastly her private areas that was no doubt both areas was the main focus as she tried her best to communicate. With each area Jilly had pointed to, Treat’s stomach got sicker.

  “We’ve got to get her to a hospital,” Treat gasped as she reached for her cell to dial 911.

  “Wait.” War’s command sent her hackles up in the air.

  “No dammit, she needs help!” Treat snapped.

  “And she’s gonna get it. After we take care of this piece of shit,” Stone added as his fist made contact with Lane’s nose. The telltale cracking sound racketed through the air as his nose jammed to the left. He let out a slew of cuss words and screamed like the little bitch he was.

  “I am not Lane, shit, man, you broke my nose,” the man whimpered.

  “Treat?” War snapped.

  “Never seen him,” Treat admitted and looked down at her sister who was trying to open her eyes. “Jilly, this the man who beat you?”

  Her sister turned her head and tried to focus, it took a few minutes before she mumbled. “Not Lane.”

  “Shit,” Treat said and looked up. “We gotta find out where he is.”

  “You gonna tell us everything you fuckin’ know you piece of shit!” Stone cocked back and landed another punch in the same spot, no doubt causing permanent damage. Good. The son-of-a-bitch deserved a hell of a lot more than that, he hadn’t even been helping her when they showed up, making him just as guilty as Lane. She was close to voicing that opinion when War stepped up. He plastered the barrel of the gun in the man’s temple and gritted his teeth.

  “One wrong move, motherfucker. Just one.” He reared back and kicked him in the dick, grinning as the man went down holding his crotch. As soon as he was on his knees, Stone’s foot kicked him full force in the face, knocking him backwards, and out.

  “Get him out of here. Treat, as soon as we’re gone, call the ambulance. Tell them she called you, you came, she was alone when you got here. Got it?” War grabbed the lifeless body and dragged him to the door, smiling when the sound of a truck skidded to a stop in front of the small rickety stairs that dropped from the front door. “Moon, you take the baby back to the clubhouse.”

  “I need to pack up formula and shit, give me a few minutes,” she said, holding the baby close to her chest.

  “No. Send the Prospects out for whatever you need. Get her out of here now,” he growled.

  “On it,” she said, not questioning him. Moon grabbed the infant carrier from beside the television and buckled the baby in, relieved that a pacifier was sitting on the table beside them. She gave it to the baby and the crying stopped. “There we go, big man. Let’s get you out of here,” she cooed.

  “Time to go, gentlemen,” he said as Stone and Freebyrd loaded the unconscious body into the back seat. The other guys hopped on their bikes as Stone tossed his keys to Casey.

  “Drive it home for me. Nike, you’re on Bic’s bike.” They’d intentionally told Nike to ride bitch with Bob, and now it made sense. Where the girls had more intent on killing the bastard and leaving his body to rot, the guys had put together a plan to keep their asses all out of hot water when the authorities showed up. Fuck! That was one more thing Treat would have to remedy if she wanted to prove to these guys she had what it took to lead the Lady Riders here. She couldn’t help but feel her temper shoot through the fuckin’ roof. She knew this—yet when it became personal for her, she’d thrown protocol out the damn window. As much as it ate her ass, right now her attention needed to be on her sister.

  Treat kept her sister talking, mumbling words of encouragement to keep her conscious until she could make the rescue call and get her to a hospital. When they finally rolled her away on a stretcher and got her loaded, the cops swarmed over to get statements.

  “Was the guy still here when you arrived?” The officer questioning was young, probably straight out of the academy, and she could tell his nerves were getting the best of him. Casey in point number eight thousand twenty-four as to how fugitives can slip through the system. This is reason el numero uno why the Lady Riders joined forces. This time, there was no way in hell another piece of shit would be let loose on the streets to terrorize and continue the vile nauseating behavior toward helpless women. Women like her sister.

  “Nope. She was on the floor when I found her barely alive. I’ve been trying to get the details out of her and a description but she’s too out of it,” she lied.

  “Okay. Thank you. We’ll be in contact if we find anything out. Here’s my card, if you think of anything that will be helpful with ou
r investigation please don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Thank you, officer,” Treat cooed in her best ‘Happy Birthday Mr. President’ voice. He seemed delighted she’d referred to him as officer if his puffed out chest and cocky expression were anything to go off.

  “Just doing’ my duty, ma’am.” It was the first time it physically hurt to grin, but she did it knowing that son-of-a-bitch wouldn’t be bothering them again. As soon as he left, she ran to the ambulance and hopped in the back, ignoring the EMTs telling her not too. “She’s my fucking sister,” she growled, daring them to protest again. Both men threw up their hands in a defensive posture.

  “Just stay out of the way,” one grumbled, pointing over to a corner seat. She moved and sat out of the way, but made sure to watch every damn move they made and asked questions about every medication they were pumping in her veins. With an IV already in her arm and fluids draining in to dilute the morphine, Jilly faded off to sleep.

  Casey, Bob, and Nike rounded up the other Lady Riders and got them following. They needed to be there for their sister, especially if something went wrong. Her sister looked bad and if something happened, holding her back would be next to impossible.

  When they reached the hospital, Treat was in the waiting room filling out forms and yelling at the desk nurse. Bob walked right up to her, wrapped an arm around her stomach, and yanked her away from the desk quickly. Someone needed to take her in hand, she was out of control, of course they all understood, but that didn’t mean they wanted the police to show up here and take her to jail.

  “Treat,” Bob whispered into her ear quietly. “We all know this is difficult, but pull your shit together, woman. We need to get information, and make sure everything she needs she has. Take a deep breath, and fill out the forms. Do you need me to call Shady?”

  Treat felt the tears in her eyes; she was having a hard time controlling it. She had to, she thought and took a deep breath and then nodded slightly to Bob.

  Nike stepped in front of her and said, “Together.”

  Treat closed her eyes. These were her sisters too dammit. Her family history sucked, like big time. When she was born, apparently someone missed the message to bestow her with any luck. Because her mom was a drunk who didn’t give two shits about anything but staying on her father’s good side, when he was sober and not at the casino. This was impossible, since he was drunk and there most of the time. Treat knew it because she had often tried as well to be the dutiful daughter. She was the oldest, and truthfully, she had no idea why the hell her parents had anymore. They didn’t want her, so when Jilly was born, Treat was five, and became the caregiver, protector, and stopped being a child.

  They lived in the same dirty ratty trailer growing up as they did now. When she was twelve, her father told her she would be pregnant and married by fifteen, she wasn’t, which was apparently a disappointment. Treat tried to protect her sister, she sent her money to a PO Box every chance she got. She tried to convince her to leave with her when she was eighteen but her sister hadn’t wanted to leave their mom, who for some reason when Jilly was ten decided she was a mom and tried to make an effort to take care of Jilly. It had been pathetic and sad to watch, but Jilly had sucked up the attention, and was convinced her mother was worthy of her effort.

  Treat had felt guilty about leaving her, but she had to get out. For a few years she wandered, moving from place to place as she tried to look for something, anything to show her a better life. She lost touch with her sister, basically because she stopped replying to her letters. Of course Treat should have known something was up, but she hadn’t tried to find out, she was too busy trying to keep her head above water and not become a hooker to pay her bills. She had worked hard, but as per her life, she didn’t find that life. Instead she found out she was attracted to losers like her father. She had a string of them, and each one worse than the last. The sad part was she fell for their bullshit every time. They promised the moon and the stars and gave her cuts and bruises. She lucked out by stumbling in to Trick, she thought. Finally, someone who understood her, someone she felt a connection with that wasn’t sexual. But even that turned out to be all a lie.

  Treat discovered a year ago that everything she had invested in over the last five years was a lie. She had been devastated when her best friend, her sister, had betrayed her. She trusted the other Lady Riders, but if she were honest with herself, she held something back, something important, and that was who she really was. They all saw Treat, the bubbly once blond now dark redhead who was one half of a whole. Trick and Treat, the two besties who were practically inseparable. Yeah, so not true if Treat actually thought about it, which she didn’t right now because she couldn’t go through that as well at this second, especially when she heard someone say her name, her real name. Fuck, apparently she didn’t have a guardian angel who watched over her, protected her from evil, she already knew this, but she had been hoping for something.

  “Brooke Louise Duffy, what the fuck are you doing here?” a man roared, yes roared in a loud unmistakable angry and often frightening to small children voice. Bob froze, the Lady Riders froze, because they had been focused on her, and if Treat had been focused she would have seen all the women, including herself, turn as a unit to see the huge, long haired, pot-bellied, red nosed—because of drinking—dirty man and a small woman with a bruise on her chin, looking anywhere but at Treat.

  “Long time no see, Daddy,” Treat said sarcastically.

  Chapter Two

  Freebyrd rolled the guy out onto the ground, giving him a few good kicks before he stepped away. “You ever show your fucking ugly face around Jilly again and I’ll be digging your grave out here you son-of-a-bitch!” War was right behind him and stepped around to deliver his own punishment. With the tip of his blade he sliced down man’s face, just deep enough to hurt like a mother but not so much that he’d need stitches or bleed out and die.

  “I won’t, but I am telling you Lane will not give up,” he growled with blood splattering from his lips. The guys just laughed.

  “Right, well he will get as much as you are, give him our message,” War taunted. “Come on. Let’s leave this piece of shit to rot.” He jumped back in the truck with the others and sped off, slinging dirt and rocks on the man’s battered body. They were halfway home when Freebyrd broke the silence.

  “Think he will deliver the message?”

  “Yep, but Lane is going to come anyway,” War answered matter of factly.

  “Good. I want to be the one who exterminates that motherfucker.”

  “You got it,” War said, laughing. He wanted to do the honors, but there was no way in hell he was gonna argue. As long as the fuck died, that’s all that mattered. “We need to up security until he shows his face. I figure it will take him a few days to come up with a plan before we will catch wind of him lurking around.”

  “Yeah. I want three men at the hospital at all times. The girls may not want to ask for help, but they don’t have a fucking choice. Up security at the clubhouse, and keep a guy on each of the girls until this shit’s over.” Freebyrd punched the accelerator, showing his aggravation in his driving. They were used to riding balls to the wall, but this was reckless even for him.

  “Got it. You wanna slow down so we live long enough to kill the stupid fuck?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Freebyrd growled, but he did slow down some. They both were in the same state of mind and wanted to turn around and finish him now. It was almost too tempting.

  “We could—” War started, but Freebyrd cut him off.

  “No. Not yet,” he said.

  “I’m just sayin’, it’d cut down on a lot of time and effort if we just kill the son-of-a-bitch now. Just hunt his ass down, and take him before Treat’s sister makes a statement.”

  “No. If he comes up missing now, the cops will be all over our ass. He’ll get what’s coming to him in due time,” Freebyrd growled. He wanted to slaughter the motherfucker as bad as War did, but at least he
had common sense to wait. War on the other hand, held true to his name. Rationality went out the window when something like this came about. He wanted war, and he wanted justice now and not later. Freebyrd was right though. They didn’t need the P.D. riding up their ass. Not with everything that was going on. They still had to get funding for the last safe house for the women who were saved from human trafficking and if the police started sticking their nose in, they might not get it. Those women needed them, and needed Treat to work her magic. Since they were affiliated with the Ladies, one mistake on their end could cost them all.

  “Not your business,” Treat’s father yelled yet again when Treat was checking the desk to see when the doctor would come out and tell them what was going on.

  “Listen here you fuck,” Bob snapped.

  “Not yours either, bitch,” her father snapped.

  Yes it had been a joyous reunion with her family, Treat thought as she turned around getting a sympathetic look from the nurse who before had been a bitch. Apparently, when your long lost loser parents show up and are complete assholes, you get sympathy and a free pass for being a lunatic. Thank goodness there was no one else in the waiting room right now to witness this embarrassingly funny reunion.

  “Shut up, Dad,” Treat snapped again as she turned. It had been the fourth time since they had arrived he tried to push Treat and the Lady Riders out of the waiting room, telling them they weren’t needed. Hadn’t worked then, and wasn’t going to work now.

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” he bellowed.

  Treat had had enough; she walked right up to the man who had previously in her nightmare of a life scared the ever-loving shit out of her. No more, she wasn’t living in fear of him anymore, mostly because at this point, thinking of all the crap she had going on, she didn’t care if he took a swing at her like he had when she was a child. She would love it if he did, it would give her a reason to swing back and take out all of the frustration she had building inside her and let it explode.