Fighting Dirty

by J.C. Valentine

  It was Tiffany who spoke first. “Darkness made it out of surgery, and we’ve been told he’s doing relatively well. They’re going to monitor him closely for the next twenty-four hours then move him to a private room.”

  Looking down, the girl seemed stunned. “I can’t believe he’s down,” she said, her voice hollow. “I never thought I’d see the day when anything could harm him.”

  Feeling for the girl, Ryder cupped his hands over hers. “He ain’t made of titanium or nothin’, Rose. We all bleed when you shoot us.”

  “You’re all just people. I knew that,” she said, but the tone of her voice suggested otherwise.

  Ryder wrapped an arm around her and tugged her close, tucking her head under his chin. Hooking his other arm around Tiffany he pulled her close, too, and she rested her head on his other shoulder. His chest ached when the two of them joined hands. They looked so much like sisters taking strength from each other in their time of need, but it was mostly Rose accepting Tiffany’s consoling.

  Ryder had never felt so much as he did at that moment. Normally, he’d take a walk outside and clear his head, but walking out on his woman and sister wasn’t an option at the moment. He wasn’t used to feeling stuck.

  Eventually, they fell asleep, and he relaxed back into the large plush seat, making the best of an uncomfortable situation. Replaying the night’s events in his mind, he pulled out his cell phone and began reviewing images of the warehouse.

  The Seven Devils had tagged it with their signs, and that meant they weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they’d been there. On the one hand, it was a shitty thing to do because now the cops knew there was a gang-related property dispute over the venue. It would be one of the places they searched if and when the need arose to face off against his club.

  On the other hand, they hadn’t actually bought the property yet. Having the isolated, empty building covered in gang signs and the site of a shootout would mean little more than a side note in the cops’ report. They wouldn’t waste much if any time on this crime or the location attached to it.

  Another thought occurred to him. Maybe the Seven Devils were trying to make his club think twice about purchasing the property for other than what Devil stated. A nasty thought flew into Ryder’s head and nested there. Perhaps the Seven Devils were trying to muscle into their territory.

  He stilled as the blood in his veins ran cold. Stealing a glance at the women snuggled up to each side of him, he thought of the times they’d butted heads with the Devils. Most of those disagreements had been over the Seven Devils’ stock and trade. They were into the skin trade, providing women for brothels all over Dakota Territory.

  Clutching his cell phone, he tried not to wake the girls when he squeezed them closer. He would not let them move into his territory or allow them access to the vulnerable women he was tasked with protecting.

  Gazing around at the few remaining brothers who had not been assigned other tasks, Ryder brought his cell phone up to type. He texted Hickory, who was in charge until Darkness was up and about again. Even though the VP was sitting right there across the way from him, it was a more secure method of communication.

  Ryder: Why do you think the Devils are interested in the clubhouse?

  Hickory: I’ve been thinking about that. They don’t want us to have the warehouse.

  Ryder: That warehouse is in an isolated location.

  Hickory: Maybe they’re lookin’ to expand into our territory.

  Ryder: We can’t let that happen.

  Hickory: I already sent word to our attorney this morning to buy it up.

  Ryder: Good. If the Devils are willing to shed blood over it, there must be a reason.

  Hickory: Agreed.

  Daylight broke through the windows, waking the sleeping girls. Tiffany spoke with the nursing station and came straight back.

  “They’re telling me he’s stable and resting peacefully. We should get some sleep and come back later in the day.”

  Hickory jerked his head toward the door. “Go, get some sleep. Ven and I will stay.”

  Without anyone saying a word, Ryder knew it was because they’d never leave a brother open when he was down. They would all take turns keeping watch until Darkness was able to go home.

  Gathering up the women, he took them to his place, and little Rose crashed out in his spare room. Tiffany’s hands smoothing over his back in a warm caress was the last thing Ryder remembered before tumbling off to sleep.

  ~ Tiffany ~

  Four days later, Tiffany scrolled through the e-mail on her phone on the way home from her interview with the medical office. She left the poor prospect assigned to drive her in the vehicle. Walking up the sidewalk, she noticed something lying on the welcome mat. Pulling out her keys, she looked straight down and saw that it was a bird—a dead bird, to be exact. It looked bitten or crushed around the neck and was smeared with a bit of blood.

  An image of Rupert the Magnificent flashed through her mind. He was the fat, yellow tabby her family had when she was a kid. Rupert had presented her with many such trophies when she was growing up. Her mother had pointed out that killing small birds and mice was his way of showing respect. Tiffany thought it was because he thought her too weak and stupid to hunt for herself, and the offering was more of an effort to feed her than anything else.

  Kicking the disgusting dead bird aside into the flower bed, she hurried in and changed into casual clothing. Rushing back out, she carefully set the security system and locked the house before allowing her eyes to dart suspiciously around for a stray feline.

  A loud honk blasted expectantly, reminding her of the prospect waiting to drive her to the hospital. Climbing into the backseat of his tricked-out 1966 Chevy Chevelle, she shoved aside the idea of potentially being adopted by a stray cat in favor of texting Ryder.

  Tiffany: How’s Darkness?

  Ryder: He woke up for a bit. He was in a lot of pain, and they gave him something for it.

  Tiffany: You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?

  Ryder: Fuck no. He’s tough as nails.

  Staring down at his response, Tiffany bit her bottom lip. Ryder was a complicated man. Since Darkness was his club president, he had a moral and professional obligation to see to the man’s safety. Being the Sargent at Arms ensured that issues relating to the safety and security of his club brothers landed squarely in his lap. Darkness was also one of his closest friends. She knew seeing the man get shot right in front of him had left Ryder all kinds of messed up about it.

  The only real question was if he was marginalizing the situation to keep her from worrying or to enable himself to remain calm and get through the hospital piece without tracking the shooter down. Instead of pressuring him, she opted for just being supportive.

  Tiffany: Want me to bring you a burger?

  Ryder: Nah, I got something on the way over.

  Tiffany: See you in a bit handsome.

  Ryder: Wait. They need you at the clubhouse.

  Tiffany: Did someone get hurt?

  Ryder: Don’t freak out, I’m meeting you there.

  Tiffany: What the heck is going on?

  Ryder: Tell you when I get there. Just don’t freak out until I arrive.

  Tiffany: Sure thing, babe.

  Tiffany felt her blood pressure skyrocketing as she put her phone away. He had to know that telling her not to freak out would have the exact opposite effect. Attempting to do as he said, she tried some deep breathing techniques followed by counting to ten—repeatedly—before finally giving up.

  Fine, she’d just freak now and get it over with. Before she could get her head around the situation and tell mister prospect Cork to take her to the clubhouse, his phone buzzed. His ringtone sounded like a mad hornet or bumble bee. It was all kinds of weird.

  He answered it on the first buzz. “Yeah, boss, I’m hearing ya loud and clear.” He listened for a second, then flipped the phone off and slid it back into his pocket. “Change of plans, Miss Tif
fany.”

  “I know. We’re heading to the clubhouse. Any idea why?”

  Glancing nervously in his rearview mirror, he pulled off the road and turned the vehicle around. “They told me to tell you not to freak.”

  Of course they did. Sometimes she wondered if the brothers operated on a hive mentality.

  Slumping back in the seat, she was glad that she’d thought to stow a good-quality, first-aid bag at the clubhouse. It must have been some kind of five-alarm emergency if it required her to be repeatedly told not to freak. Her head filled with images of multiple gunshot wounds. Surely, they’d take them to the hospital if that were the case, right? Maybe there had been an accident of some sort.

  Cork got her there in record time, grabbed the first-aid kit, and took her straight down into the basement—the basement that she never knew was there. A cold chill crept down her spine as they descended the concrete steps.

  After hitting the bottom step, she understood why. It was set up like some kind of old-fashioned jail. There were two large rooms on either side with metal floor-to-ceiling bars and doors that swung on old, rusted hinges. No windows or any furniture, other than cots and a chair sitting almost in front of the door. One of the brothers she barely recognized was sitting in the chair with his massive arms crossed over his chest. She thought his name was Knife or something like that. Long, stringy brown hair hung down both sides of his face, barely covering scars on his cheeks.

  Cork tapped him out. “Go take a break, Knave. I’ve got this.”

  The man stood, towering over them for a brief moment before stalking up the steps. There was only one other person present, and she was ensconced safely behind bars. Looking her over, Tiffany decided she was pretty tough. The woman had long, red hair braided down her back and the most beautiful green eyes. Though she appeared to be in her mid-thirties, her clothing of worn leather bore no club affiliations. She clutched the bars with both hands, jerking on them with all her might.

  “Let me the hell out of here. This is kidnapping. You can’t keep me here.”

  Slamming his hand against the bars, Cork barked, “Shut your pie hole, if you want the nice nurse to have a look at your shoulder.”

  Stepping back so he could open the door, she glared at him. “I wouldn’t have that bullet hole if your guy hadn’t shot me in the first place.”

  Stalking over, Cork grabbed her by her good arm and slammed her down into a seated position on the bed. “You’re damn lucky we’re getting you some medical attention after you intentionally busted open your shoulder again, so shut the fuck up.”

  Realizing she was in way over her head, Tiffany tried to reconcile her belief that the men she knew were good people, though they were holding this injured woman hostage in their basement cell. Jesus, for them to even have a room like this was evidence that they were totally off the chain. Who did they normally house in this cold, dark place? Did this woman really shoot Darkness? If so, why wasn’t she in jail? So many questions slammed through her mind, one right after another.

  Pulling herself together, Tiffany’s shaking hands opened the first-aid bag, and she began pawing through the medical supplies. Taking out a sterile suture tray, she set it aside and pulled on a pair of gloves.

  The overprotective biker eased back to give her space to work. Tiffany was on automatic pilot, as she slowly cut away the blood-soaked bandages covering the woman’s wound. Examining the back, she gave a sigh of relief when she found the exit wound had been properly sewn closed, as had the front. It looked as if a few of the stitches had been compromised and were beginning to bleed again, though. She dabbed at the area with an astringent and carefully repaired the three sutures. Then she went to work along the edges of the other stitches where blood was crusting.

  Without warning, the woman leaned forward. “You’ve got to help me escape. They’re going to kill me,” she hissed, sending a fresh jolt of fear shooting through Tiffany’s body.

  “Please sit back,” she murmured, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. Everything about this situation felt wrong. “I need to finish cleaning and bandaging your wound. You probably need a doctor, not a nurse.”

  Shaking her head, the woman insisted, “I honestly don’t give a shit who drops a stitch in my shoulder. I got bigger fish to fry. You’ve got to help me.”

  Ryder’s deep voice erupted behind them. “My pretty little nurse ain’t got to do nothin’ for you. You best get that through your thick skull.”

  Jerking back slightly, the woman gasped. “She’s your old lady. Isn’t that freakin’ nice? You shoot me full of holes, and she stiches them shut again. Aren’t you two a fucking amazing team?”

  “It was only one shot,” Ryder placated. “If I hadn’t shot you, then you would have killed Darkness. I caught you lying in wait, zooming him in on your sights. Are you honestly going to sit there and try to tell me I didn’t see what I saw?”

  Clearly being less than honest, the woman answered quickly, “No, I was going to wing him. Darkness and I have a history. He knows I’d never kill him.”

  “I was there, so I’m afraid I have to call bullshit on that one,” he drawled.

  “What’s gonna happen to me?” the woman asked, her eyes wide, and if Tiffany wasn’t mistaken, a hint of trepidation lurked in their depths, despite the badass attitude she was throwing around.

  “That’s for Darkness and the brothers to vote on,” Ryder informed her. “Maybe if he speaks for you, you’ll live. I have to admit that I don’t see that happening.”

  “He took a bullet for me.”

  “I ain’t figured that out yet, but I will.”

  “It’ll be weeks before he’s fit to call a meeting. By then it’ll be too late.”

  “You tired of eatin’ energy bars already? That’s real sad,” Ryder taunted. “But trust me, you’ll survive.”

  “It ain’t about me.” Sitting back down, the woman snubbed back a tear.

  “Don’t turn on the waterworks, bitch. I ain’t fallin’ for it.”

  “I have a daughter. She’s just a baby,” she said, catching Tiffany’s attention. “If I don’t pick her up, they’ll call the state.”

  “It’s already been four days.”

  “It’s a special, extreme child care center that includes boarding. You can leave them overnight for three days. After that, they call the state for abandonment.”

  Tiffany’s hand tightened on the woman’s arm.

  Ryder bit out harshly, “You should have thought about that before you took this job sniping.”

  “Please. If you want me to beg, I will,” she pleaded, sounding on the verge of doing exactly that.

  “I don’t get off on your misery, you dumb bitch. I’m pissed that you tried to shoot my club president, and I want justice. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Turning his back, Ryder headed for the cell door.

  “If you won’t do it for me, do it for Darkness.”

  Practically freezing mid-step, Ryder slowly turned around, and if looks could kill, the woman would be dead. Tiffany was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of his anger.

  Ryder took a couple of steps back in her direction before he spoke. “If Darkness had a kid, I’d know about it.”

  Hanging her head, the now defeated woman sighed. “He doesn’t know. I didn’t want my baby around club shit.”

  “The way I heard it from Devil, there was a choice to be made, and you picked him over Darkness. Sure it ain’t his kid?”

  Tiffany had never seen an emptier look in someone’s eyes before, and she wasn’t sure if it was there because of her feelings for this guy called Devil…or Darkness.

  “Devil doesn’t give a shit about me. He’s got an old lady. The big thrill for Devil was depriving Darkness of me.”

  “Seems like a lot of trouble solely to wreck cupid’s arrow, doll,” Ryder said with a heavy dose of irritation in his tone.

  Shrugging, the woman winced from the pain in her damaged shoulder. “His club uses me to mule drugs
and guns back and forth over the state line. I’m fast, smart, and can usually talk my way out of a vehicle search if I get pulled over.”

  Tiffany’s eyebrows rose. The things she was hearing and seeing today…

  Closing the distance between them, Ryder stooped down to look her in the face. “And best of all, you’re expendable.”

  Letting out a stuttering breath, the woman nodded. “Please just pick up my baby and bring her to me. We can sort it all out when Darkness gets out of the hospital. We can’t take a chance on Devil and his men going through my belongings. They might discover childcare receipts or other documentation to lead them to my child.”

  Leaning forward until he was nearly touching noses with the clearly terrified woman, Ryder spoke in a calm, but deadly voice. “If you are lying to me, I’ll gun you down where you stand without a second thought. If you try to run, I’ll kill you. If you try to harm any of us, I’ll nail your dumb ass quicker than you can blink. If you even think of double crossing me, I promise to hunt you down and make sure it’s the last stupid decision you ever make. In fact, you’re going to have to work pretty damn hard to stay alive under my watch.”

  Bowing her head, she nodded quickly. “I understand. Whatever you say, I’ll do. God knows I’m used to following orders.”

  Turning to Tiffany, Ryder studied her briefly before speaking. “Patch her up and clean her up. I’ll be in the bar.”

  Tiffany nodded, relieved this deadly little heart-to-heart was finally over. “Okay. You’re making the right choice here, babe.”

  Reaching over, he cupped the back of her neck and dragged her forward for a brief kiss. Pulling back, he murmured, “Don’t ever trust this bitch. She’s nothing but trouble. Also, I didn’t ask for or need your approval on club business. Remember that, princess.”

  Stunned by his bland, but perfectly reasonable take on the situation, Tiffany nodded.

  Before Ryder could stand, she smoothed the last bandage into place, grabbed the woman’s hand, and pulled her toward the door.