Chased with Strength_Notorious Devils

by Hayley Faiman

  “You home?” I ask anyway.

  He grunts. “Nah, slept at the club. What’s up?”

  I glance around the bar, frowning. “Hayden didn’t show up for work today. Wondered if she dropped off East or not. I’m going to head toward her place, meet me there?” I ask.

  Something in my gut tells me I’m going to need some backup, and she’s comfortable enough with Fish.

  “I’ll call Gracie and be on my way,” he says, sounding much more alert than he was just a few seconds ago.

  Ending the call, I glance around the bar for any sign of life. There’s nothing other than the cook who’s firing up the grill. Scrolling through my contacts again, I find Baby.

  “Pres,” he rasps.

  “You’re working the bar today, get the fuck down here,” I bark.

  There’s a small moment of silence before he speaks. “Where’s Hayden? The baby sick?” he asks sounding awfully concerned.

  I don’t know what happened between them, but it doesn’t matter. She wears Crooner’s mark, which makes her a death wish for anyone who even looks at her sideways.

  “Don’t know yet. Not any of your fuckin’ business either. The cook is down here getting everything ready on his end, but I need someone to man the bar. Be here in five,” I state before ending the call. I let the cook know that someone is on their way, and I head out.

  It only takes me a minute or two to ride to Hayden’s new place. It looks empty just from the outside as I pull into her driveway. Before I can shift off of my bike, I hear Fish come barreling down the street. He kicks his stand down quickly and disengages before stomping toward me.

  “Gracie’s been trying to call her all morning. Said, she figured she’d be coming by any second, but she hasn’t seen or heard from her. She ain’t answering her phone either,” he announces.

  I glance back at the front door, then at Fish and lift my chin as I reach into my shoulder holster and pull my handgun out. I watch as he reaches into the back of his jeans and pulls his piece out of his waistband.

  Together, we silently walk toward the front door. I listen, trying to hear any movement inside but it’s still and quiet, and fucking eerie.

  I wrap my hand around the front door knob and gently twist it, surprised to find it unlocked. Hayden wouldn’t leave the front door unlocked, not with her past.

  Opening the front door, we’re met with more silence, so much fucking quiet that it’s deafening. Both Fish and I clear the house, finding it completely fucking empty. We meet back up in the living room and just kind of stare at one another for a moment.

  Something shiny catches my eye and I look to the left, it’s a phone—a completely shattered phone. Crouching down, I pick up a couple of the big pieces before lifting my head up to look at Fish. His eyes are dark, and I can tell that he’s on edge.

  “That her phone?” he growls.

  I nod once, dropping the pieces back on the floor. They’re fucking useless right now. I look around, again, except this time I’m not searching for people, I’m searching for signs.

  “Call Motorhead. Let’s keep this close to the vest for now but get him here to help us look around. I don’t want to send anybody into a panic quite yet,” I instruct.

  Fish already has his phone to his ear and I hear him murmuring, then he shoves it in his pocket. “He’ll be here in about two seconds,” he states.

  We don’t move around the house quite yet. I’m content to scan the living room for anything else.

  “Pantry door is open,” Fish mutters.

  I spin around and we both walk toward the open door. Wrenching it the rest of the way, I look around.

  “Boxes on their sides, but only a few,” I mutter. “All snack food, like she’d feed Easton. She was in a hurry,” I point out as my eyes scan the small space.

  I hear the refrigerator door slam. “She didn’t take milk or his yogurt snacks,” Fish mutters.

  “Where’s our girl,” Motorhead growls, stomping through the house.

  I frown, looking over at him. “Let’s all take a room, comb through it, see what we can discover.”

  Splitting up, I take the master bedroom, Fish takes the master bath, and Motorhead takes Easton’s room. Five minutes into the search, Motorhead shouts for us to hurry into Easton’s space. We run, our boots moving us quickly through the small house.

  Motorhead’s back is to us, the closet door open, and his head is bent as he looks at something. We come in closer, and I swear to fuck I expect to see their dead bodies. Instead, I’m met with socks.

  “Socks?” Fish asks, voicing my own thoughts.

  “Jack,” Motorhead growls. I blink, looking at the socks again, damned if they don’t spell out JACK. “That’s the name of the fuck who had her and ditched her when the nomads came around, wasn’t it?” he asks.

  “Fuck, it is,” I breathe.

  Fish clears his throat, but it’s Motorhead that speaks first. “Hayden’s a smart fucking girl, a survivor,” he says, sounding almost baffled.

  “She is, but she’s ours, under our protection and we need her back before she’s hurt by that sick racist motherfucker,” I bite out.

  “What do we do now?” Fish asks, his voice sounding as fucking defeated as I feel.

  Failed.

  We’ve failed to protect her and Easton.

  I cannot fail on finding her, not only because I’ve promised to protect her but also because she’s Crooner’s Old Lady. He’s gone, and it’s our fucking job to watch her while he’s away. We’ve fucked up on so many counts right now, but it doesn’t matter anymore, the only thing that matters is getting her and East home and safe.

  “We find our girl,” I state.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  HAYDEN

  Jack doesn’t speak to me for hours. I’m afraid to say a word to him, afraid that he’s going to fly off of the handle at me. He seems extremely agitated as he chews on his thumbnail and drives at least fifteen miles per hour over the posted speed limit. I don’t want to piss him off by asking him a question, so I stay quiet.

  He continues driving, farther and farther away from everything we know. I’m terrified that what he said earlier was true, that I’ll never leave the place he’s taking us, at least not alive. We drive through a little town, and I glance around, taking in how cute it is and wondering if this is where we’re going to stay. I start trying to catalogue the places that might let me use a phone.

  There’s a cute little diner, and then a pharmacy right next door, I spy a travel agency, and then a women’s boutique. All places that I could try and use either their business phone or an employee’s cell phone. If I can break out of wherever he’s taking me to, maybe I can get to one of these shops before he catches us.

  Jack turns down a desolate dirt road and my heart starts to beat against my ribs, hammering inside of my chest. His words about never leaving the place he’s taking us, ring a whole new meaning as the large chain link fence and razor wire top appears.

  I gasp when I see the lookout towers every few feet, then when we pull up to a gate that puts the Notorious Devils clubhouse entrance gate to shame, my entire body deflates. There is no way I’ll make it out of this prison alive, especially not with Easton in tow.

  Pulling up to the gate, Jack rolls down his window. A man with a shaved bald head walks toward us, a machine gun of some kind strapped across his chest.

  “ID,” he barks, his eyes finding mine and staying glued to me.

  Jack lifts his hips and tugs his wallet out of his pants, except he doesn’t pull out his driver’s license. He takes out a smaller, square laminate card. I try to get a good look at it, but the bald man is staring at me too intently for me to look away from him.

  “She’s all marked up,” he announces to Jack.

  Jack snorts. “Those biker fucks sure do like to show the world their property. Too bad she was mine first,” he chuckles.

  “Teaching her a lesson?” he asks, his eyes shifting up and down my bod
y, causing my stomach to turn.

  Jack lifts his hand and rubs his chin with it as though he’s thinking really hard about the question. “That woman getting her lesson tonight, still?” he asks.

  Baldie chuckles. “Fuck yeah she is.” He grabs his dick and squeezes and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out or whimpering.

  “I’ll show Hayden what happens when you’re punished. I’m not going to punish her this time around, though,” he says, gentling his voice as he reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of my neck. “She came along so nicely, and look, she brought my son.”

  “Your kid? Fuck, didn’t know. A little soldier for the cause, c’mon in Jack, your place is the fourth house to the right. Boss got it all ready for you guys last night when he got the word,” he explains.

  I swallow my sob at his mention of my son being a soldier. I don’t want these men to even look at Easton, let alone try and brainwash him into thinking, acting, or being like them.

  My baby is going to be a good man when he grows up, he will not bathe in the hate these fuckers spew.

  Jack lifts his chin as the man takes a step back. Then we drive forward. The houses are like little log cabins, the kind you sometimes see for sale on the side of the road. They look almost like storage sheds or fancy children’s playhouses. They’re all lined up one right after the other and side by side on this small dirt path, just wide enough for one car to drive down.

  We pull in, on the side of the fourth house on the right and Jack kills the engine. Jack doesn’t move immediately, and I’m too afraid to attempt to at this point. He reaches for my knee and gives it a squeeze, it’s almost affectionate. Then he speaks and makes my anxiety ratchet up tenfold.

  “This is your new home. You do not leave the cabin without my permission. I don’t trust you yet, Hayden. Easton will be taken to the children’s quarters in two hours. He’s no longer your child, but instead a soldier for the cause. He is a child of the cause, as are all the children.”

  I watch as he slides out of the truck. I shove open my own door, afraid to dally, afraid he’ll hurt me if I don’t stay right behind him. Once we walk into the little log cabin. I suck in a breath, blinking slowly.

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “It means that he’s no longer our child. Granted he carries our DNA, but he’s not ours to call our own. We will not raise him, in fact, I think it would be best if you didn’t even see him for a while. You’ve coddled the child,” he explains.

  Holding Easton a bit closer to my chest, I shake my head. “He’s only a baby, Jack,” I try to reason.

  Jack pins me with a glare and I snap my lips closed. I watch as he digs his phone out of his pocket and types something quickly, then he looks back at me. “Obviously you cannot handle two more hours with him, Hayden. I didn’t realize you were such a helicopter mother.”

  He shakes his head and reaches for Easton. Faux disappointment laced in his features as he pries my baby out of my arms. My eyes fill with tears and I try as hard as I can to keep Easton in my grasp. It doesn’t work, not only is Jack stronger than me, I don’t want to hurt Easton.

  The front door flies open and there’s a man standing there. His eyes shift from Easton and Jack to me and I watch as they spark. He doesn’t say anything to me, verbally, but there is definitely something working behind his eyes, I just can’t tell what it is.

  Jack hands him Easton and he dips his chin to me before he backs out of the cabin and closes the door behind him. I hear Easton cry as soon as he loses sight of me and my heart shatters. It completely breaks into a million different pieces.

  I want to launch myself at Jack, kill him, then run after Easton but I know without a doubt that I wouldn’t survive. I have to survive, and I have to use my head to try and figure out a way to escape. Jack tilts his head to the side and studies me, his eyes roaming over my face.

  “You took that better than expected,” he muses, his lips tipping into a cold smile. “You’re going to learn all about your new life here today. I think you’re going to really enjoy it on the compound, Hayden.”

  I don’t tell him to go fuck himself or to eat shit like I want to. I don’t tell him anything. I decide my highest chance of survival is to keep my mouth shut and observe.

  If I’m constantly observing the people around me, the habits, and the different personalities, then I can maybe find an ally or a weakness that will get both me and Easton a way out.

  “First things first. Clean up. We have a little lesson teaching moment tonight, and I don’t want you to miss even a second of it.” He winks as he stands to his feet.

  I follow suit and grab ahold of my bag, looking down to see Easton’s sitting on the floor. He doesn’t have his special blanket or stuffed animal. My heart races and tears fill my eyes. I could attempt to plead with Jack to at least take him those two items, but the way he said I coddled him, the way he said I was a helicopter parent, I know that he won’t allow it.

  Walking through the cabin, I’m relieved to find that there’s a bathroom with a shower. I had imagined that I would have to go to some kind of outhouse or communal showers, so this is a pleasant surprise. What there isn’t, is a window. There won’t be any escaping from the bathroom—damn.

  Locking the door, I strip out of my clothes and take a quick shower before redressing in a pair of holey jeans and an oversized shirt. I do not want to show off any part of my body to Jack, in fact, the less appealing I look, the better.

  Walking out of the bathroom, I’m surprised to see Jack sitting on the bed. I braid my wet hair, standing in the doorway of the bathroom and just look at him. His eyes stay glued to mine as well, then he clears his throat.

  “Could that biker fuck have gotten you pregnant?” he asks.

  My eyes widen, and I inhale a ragged breath. I don’t take my eyes off of him, deciding to speak the truth. “Yes, it’s a possibility, but I won’t know for weeks,” I admit.

  He nods, and I expect him to reach out and backhand me, but he doesn’t. His eyes lift to mine and silently he stands, closing the distance between us. His hand reaches out and I flinch, but he doesn’t hurt me, he cups my cheek and runs his thumb along my bottom lip.

  “I’m sorry they hurt you. You were given to me, and I didn’t protect you,” he rasps.

  He almost, almost seems sincere, but I know him, and I know that he isn’t. However, I decide to play along. Having Jack trust me is vital to not only my survival but also my escape.

  “I’m okay.”

  He nods, leaning forward he brushes his lips across my own, and I try as hard as I can not to gag and throw up on him. He presses his forehead against mine and closes his eyes.

  “Once you can be tested, we’ll get you tested at our clinic. Then we can make arrangements if need be for termination.”

  My stomach twists at his words—termination. Jack is talking about killing a baby that me and Ward made together, and it makes me sick. Closing my eyes, I nod, trying not to cry or show any other emotion.

  Jack takes a step back and my eyes reopen to look at him. He frowns. “Unfortunately, that means that we can’t be together until you know for sure. Then, we have to decide what we’re going to do about that atrocity on your chest. I can’t have his marking on you, staring me in the face every day. When we know about your spawn one way or the other, then we’ll go about covering that shit up.”

  Biting the inside of my cheek, to the point where the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, I nod. The only consolation in all of this is that I won’t be forced to have sex with Jack yet. Hopefully, by the time I’ll need a pregnancy test, I’ll be long fucking gone from here.

  He reaches out, wrapping his hand around my own and gives me a squeeze. “Okay, now we’re going to go watch a lesson being delivered to a woman,” he grins.

  My feet feel like they’re buried in concrete as I follow behind his lead. I remember from my past time with him, that I wasn’t allowed to walk next to, or in f
ront of him. Always behind. I expect to head toward his truck, but instead, we continue farther down the dirt road, opposite from the way we came in.

  I search my surroundings, hoping for a clue on how to break out of this place, except my eyes keep catching men with their hands wrapped around a woman’s. It looks like we’re sheep, being herded and brought in. The women all look sad, but some look vacant. That scares me, it’s what I don’t want to end up like.

  Once we pass the last cabin on the narrow makeshift street, there’s a large open green clearing and then a huge building. “This is where we always meet as a group. It’s where we’ll share our meals, any type of celebration, or any kind of punishment,” he explains.

  The building is cement brick, gray and cold looking. I watch as a giant garage type door rolls up as the first of the group of people arrive at the entrance. They pass through and we follow behind.

  Inside it’s just as cold looking as the outside. There are no decorations, the walls aren’t painted and it’s physically chilly, sending a shiver up my spine.

  I glance around and notice that there are a bunch of round tables shoved against the walls, and there are chairs lined up in rows facing a lifted stage area. Men and women file toward the chairs and sit down, all staring straight toward the stage. All looking like zombies or robots.

  Jack guides me over to the front row, and I’m surprised we’re allowed to sit here. I would assume it would be saved for important people.

  Once we’re seated, a man walks up the small staircase to the center of the stage. There is a sturdy table behind him, and I expect him to have a pulpit or microphone in front of him, but he doesn’t. His eyes scan the crowd and then land on me. I recognize him as the man who came in and took Easton from my arms without speaking a word.

  “He’s the leader, the man in charge of our entire group,” Jack explains.