by Joy Blood
I go and sit my ass down on the other table and wait for Leia to get on with it. I know what she’s going to do, and I know it’s going to hurt like a bitch, so I holler for Sage to grab me a bottle of Jack, earning a scowl from Leia.
This burn is far less worse than my face was. This one just being a second-degree burn I’m told as she starts to clean the debris away from my charred skin. The sting doesn’t stop as she continues picking pieces of dead flesh from the red tissue with her small tweezers until Sage is back with the bottle I requested.
Taking a swig, I look down at my arm as the stinging prickles on. It actually isn’t too bad. Only reaching from my wrist to my elbow. “It’s hard to tell what is tattoo and what is debris,” Leia mumbles to herself.
“Messed it the fuck up. I liked this piece too,” I joke, getting a sideways glance from the woman.
“I see you still have your sense of humor,” she deadpans.
“Still charming as fuck too,” Sage says, still next to us. His eyes linger on her, giving her body a look I know all too well. It’s the same one I gave her when we were fucking all those years ago. The I’ve-seen-you-naked look.
“How you been, Leia?” I ask, deciding to make small talk. “How’s Quinn?” I glance over to Sage, gauging his reaction when I ask about her son.
“He’s great. fifteen years old now. Can you believe it? The boy is taller than me,” she says with a smile. I remember her being a great mom. That boy of hers is her entire world.
“That’s good. Maybe he can prospect in a few years,” I say with a smile, and get a scowl from her in return. “Or not.”
“You men,” she scolds. “Okay. I think I got most of it. I’m just going to wrap it up. I will have to come back again and take off more of the dead skin. Make sure you take some antibiotics.” She looks around the room. “From the looks of this place, I’m sure you aren’t lacking medical supplies, so I shouldn’t have to write you a prescription.” She steps away from me, then goes to look over at the guy on the table. “That patch up job isn’t going to keep him alive.”
“Not supposed to.” The edge is back in my voice, and she snaps her head my way.
“Am I free to go? I’m guessing this something I am not supposed to see.” The woman knows more than the average doctor at the local hospital should know about an MC, and I know she’s trustworthy.
“You were never here, babe,” I tell her, getting up from the table to stand by the side of the prick we are going to question.
“Always a pleasure, Mr. Mathers. Sage, good to see you again too,” she says, eyes lingering on Sage for a moment longer before she walks out of the room. I give him a “what the fuck?” look when he pulls his gaze from her to me. He only offers a head shake, so I let it go. If I didn’t have shit to tend to, I would say something.
“I will hit him with some epi and he should wake right up,” Brail says, injecting the IV hooked to the guy’s arm. Almost instantly, the fucker shoots off the bed, wincing in pain. He roars out in agony, but I slam him back down.
“Where did they take her?” I don’t waste any time. He’s breathing so hard, he can’t say anything, but after a few shakes and slaps to the face, his mouth starts moving.
“You fucking pricks,” he starts, and I press the hand attached to my uninjured arm down onto his wound to get him to say something we want to hear. “Fuck!” he shrieks in pain, shuddering the farther my hand goes into his stomach. I can feel his insides as I press through the stitches Ari’d sewn into him only minutes before.
“I think I can feel your liver in here. Want me to pull it out? Maybe take a look?”
“No! Oh god. Fucking hell!” he calls out. “Okay! Okay!” he cries.
“Tell me where they took her,” I grit out, still keeping my hand in his body cavity.
“They...shit...” He breathes through clenched teeth.
“G, I think you’re killing him even faster,” Sage says, making me glare his way.
“She is...she is fucking dead, prick. And so are you,” he says, mustering up enough strength to try to spit in my face, but I don’t let him get the chance. My other hand goes over his face to cover his mouth and nose at the same time to suffocate him. I get up close to his ear to whisper the last words he’s ever going to hear.
“Sit tight, sweetheart. This won’t take but a minute.”
Twenty-One
Grace
Pounding in my head doesn’t dissipate as my eyes slowly crack open. My sight is met with dim lighting and a room I didn’t expect to find myself in, especially after being kidnapped. It looks like a bedroom, not the dirty basement I thought I would wake up in. My eyes widen even more when I hear the sound of cartoons being played on a TV toward the foot of the bed. Then my body lurches off the mattress when I see a small girl with brown hair sitting on the same bed. “Tanya!” I say, startling my little girl.
“Mommy!” she shouts, jumping onto me. I don’t even notice the jolt it gives my pounding head, I’m too relieved to see my little girl.
“Baby girl. Oh gosh, Mommy missed you so much,” I say, taking her in—her smell, the softness of her hair. “Are you okay, baby? Did anyone hurt you?” I ask, pulling her away from me only to look her over.
“I’m okay, Mommy. I missed you,” she says with a small smile. “Daddy said you were going to come get me.”
“Where is Daddy now?” I look around the room, as if he’s going to appear out of nowhere.
“I don’t know. The man said I needed to watch ‘toons until you woke up. He said you had an ow-ey and needed sleep.” Her little voice explains as best as a four-year-old can. “Are you okay, Mommy?”
“I’m fine, baby. So much better now that I got snuggles from you,” I say with a smile, hugging her once more.
“Who is the man who brought you here? Where is he?” She shakes her head in answer, and the door swings open. In walks a tall, muscular man. Maybe late thirties considering his hair is slightly graying at the sides along with his short beard.
“Grace, I presume?” he asks, crossing his arms over his broad chest. I clutch Tanya closer to me, as if to shield her from the man.
“Yes.”
“Name’s Brock,” he says, extending his hand, which I don’t take. “Yeah. Guess I have that comin’. Sorry ‘bout the whack.” He gestures to my head.
“That was you?” He winces at the question and nods.
“You were squirming so damn much, it was all I could do.” He shrugs.
“Where is Roger?”
“Still with them, I’m guessing. Unless they slit...” He looks at my daughter, then back to me. “Not sure on him.”
“What is it you want? Can you please just let my little girl go? Please?” I start to plead with the man, but he shakes his head.
“I need your help.” I start to ask what he needs my help with, but he continues. “I need to get a meeting with Rock.”
“Rock?”
“Yeah. I’m...shit, I just need to talk to him. My cover got blown last night when they tried to...” Once again, he looks at my little girl, and I know what he’s trying to say. They were going to hurt her.
“So you bring us both here, and what? You just expect me to walk into the clubhouse and say, ‘Rock, you think you can spare a second to talk to someone?’ Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to go over very well considering I just let a bunch of assholes into the place so they could kill all the members.” My heart sinks at the thought. Did anyone get hurt? “I don’t even know if anyone is still alive.”
“They are all still breathing as far as I know, but they won’t be for much longer if you don’t get me that meeting. Here.” He hands me a phone, tapping a couple keys before I take it. “Put it to your ear. Tell him you are good and I need to talk to him. Face to face.” The phone is already ringing when he hands it to me. After only three rings, someone answers, but it isn’t Rock.
“Hello?” Buggs’s soft voice comes over the phone.
“Buggs?�
�� I ask, looking up at Brock.
“Who is this?”
“Grace.”
“Grace! Are you okay?” She gasps in surprise.
“Yes, I’m fine. I have my little girl and...Buggs, I need to talk to Rock. Is he there?” There’s a long pause, long enough that I start to wonder if she hung up, but then she takes a breath.
“Is one of them with you?” she breathes into the phone.
“Yes…he says he needs to talk to Rock,” I explain, only getting more silence from her end. “Please, Buggs,” I plead.
“Yeah?” Rock’s voice comes booming out through the line.
“Rock, I’m with a man named…” I look up to Brock, wondering if I can say who he is to Rock. When I get a nod, I continue. “His name is Brock.” A muffled curse sounds in the background, almost like Rock has pulled the phone away from his mouth to shout.
“You tell that fucker...”
“He wants to meet with you,” I interrupt. “He got us safe. Me and my little girl,” I say, but get muffled grumbles.
“When and where?” he asks, and I look up to Brock.
“Wherever he wants to meet. His terms,” Brock says, and I repeat it into the phone.
“You tell him he brings you and your girl or there’s no meet.” He rattles off a location of latitude and longitude, which I repeat for Brock to hear, then hangs up the phone.
“Well, that went well,” he says. “You hungry?”
Twenty-Two
Gin
“The fuck you sayin’?” I growl at Rock. He just came walking into the clubhouse after heading home to check on his family. Buggs and their boys were at home safe and sound during the impending attack, probably inside the panic room. The place is damn near a bomb shelter. The guy wasn’t fucking around when he had the place built shortly after the clubhouse went up. Though, his house took longer than the few weeks it took to have the clubhouse built.
“We have had our suspicions about the guy. If this is legit, we could get a leg up on the traitorous fucks. You can be by my side, only if you can keep your shit together,” he scolds, pointing his thick finger in my direction.
“He has Grace?” I ask again.
“Yeah. Was her who set up the meet.”
“Don’t like this shit at all. She could be working for them,” I say, knowing deep down it ain’t true. I saw the look on her face. She didn’t want to give away the club, but she wanted her daughter.
“Could be. Said I could pick the spot. We ride out in five. Want to be there before he is,” Rock states, then walks out of my room.
The night seems to drag on forever. After I smothered the prick on death’s door, I took another look around the clubhouse to make sure we didn’t miss anything. Shit just isn’t sitting right with me. There had to be a reason why they would have gone through the trouble to have Grace come here then take her, but still, I couldn’t find anything. Not even a ticking bomb hidden away somewhere. Not a fuckin’ thing. It irked me to no end. Now we get the news that Grace and her daughter are safe and sound with the fucker who took Kimi five years ago. All sorts of fucked.
I forego putting on fresh clothes and just pull my cut over my shoulders and walk out the door. I come to a stop when I find Jake swinging his leg over his bike, then look around and see everyone is gearing up. Ringer, our best shooter, has a long case gripped in his hand as he makes his way to his truck to place it inside. “Going to have Ringer out a piece to snipe out any of ‘em if they show,” Rock says, coming to my side. “You ready for this?” I nod and continue my path, giving Jake a chin tip as I mount my bike.
The ride is quick. The meet place only being five miles from the clubhouse in the middle of nowhere. A lone cluster of boulders rest off in the distance where I’m sure Ringer is already setting up his rifle. The other guys hang back a bit, sure to keep themselves visible as Rock and I take our places. We don’t wait long before a small rusty car comes crawling our way. “That them?” I ask, more to myself than anything. Rock doesn’t answer, knowing I wasn’t looking for one. When the car pulls up close, I get a glimpse through the dirtied windows and vaguely make out the shape of a woman in the front. The car comes to a stop, then she steps out. I have a brief moment to exhale before the driver’s side opens up and Brock shows his face.
My face is on fire—literally on fucking fire. I don’t care, though. I know I’m dying. Know my woman is dead. Just let it fucking burn. Burn everything the fuck away. But it doesn’t burn away. I’m being lifted from the flames and dropped to the side of the pile of smoldering cuts. Through split eyelids, I look up to see a face, a face I hadn’t yet seen tonight. A face I need to commit to memory because he will be on my list of people to kill.
“That motherfucker,” I grumble, clenching my hands into tight fists.
“Stand down, G. Let’s get our answers before you kill him,” Rock grits out by my side. Reluctantly, I listen as he gets closer and closer, along with Grace, who has slight tears in her eyes.
“Gin,” her small voice whispers the closer she gets. Without thinking, I reach out and grab her arm to pull her behind me.
“Where is your daughter?” I ask, not taking my eyes from Brock.
“She’s in the car. On the floor playing hide and seek,” she says, keeping her voice low.
“Rock. Thanks for the meet.”
“Brock. You got some sac facing me again,” Rock bites out.
“Know it, Pres...” Brock starts, but Rock steps forward to wrap his hand around the man’s throat.
“Not your fuckin’ Pres anymore, now am I? You went against me. Against the club. You ain’t worthy to call me your Pres,” Rock growls, then lets the man go with enough force for Brock to stumble backward.
“They killed Jenny. They were going to kill my little boy if I didn’t go along with them. Didn’t fucking matter, though, because they killed him too. My fucking kid. Killed him to break me,” Brock says, almost choking on his tears.
“Say I believe you, Brock. What the fuck do you want? Why not crawl back into the hole you came out of?” Rock asks, face to face with the guy again.
“They need to pay. They are all here in Cental, all except one. Though, now that they know I’m not with them, I can’t say for sure if they are sticking around. They are hiding out in the old wheat mill.”
“We know that,” I growl, interrupting him, making his jaw tick.
“You don’t know how many though, do you?” Prick is getting cocky now?
“We have a list,” Rock answers. “Eight on it, including you.”
“Well, six now,” I say with a smirk.
“Sans,” Brock says. “He found me out.” He nods down toward his stomach, gesturing to show us something. Rock nods and Brick pulls up his shirt enough to show the mangled flesh along his abdomen. “When I was getting that girl out, he shot me. Took me three days to get to a fucking doctor.”
“That’s touching and all, but I don’t give a fuck how much you suffered. Why the fuck did you want to meet with us? Why go through all this trouble?” My patience is wearing thin.
“They left something there.” My fist clutches at the cotton shirt covering his chest. My turn to choke him.
“The fuck you playin’ at?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “The whole thing was a distraction. Grab her and leave something in return,” he admits.
“What did you leave?” my growl erupts between us, making him flinch.
“A bomb. They thought it would put the club on lockdown. Get everybody there so they could blow it with everyone inside.” He doesn’t get to say much more before I pull back my free fist and clock him hard across his jaw, laying him out cold.
“Get her and the kid to the safe house. Take that fucker with you! And don’t fucking kill him,” Rock yells, already swinging his leg over his bike.
“The fuck? I’m coming with you, Pres.”
“No!” he yells out before he starts up his bike, our brothers in
the distance doing the same.
Pissed off but following instructions, I stomp over to my saddle bag and grab zip tie cuffs to secure Brock’s hands behind his back. I glance up to see Grace staring down at me, a lost expression on her face. “Go get the car over here and pop the truck,” I grind out, still not wanting to meet her eyes. I’m relieved as fuck she and the kid are safe, but still pissed at how she handled things. She only gives me a slight nod before running back to the car. It takes her a moment, likely trying to calm her child, before she’s moving the car, parking just close enough so it isn’t too hard to get the restrained asshole in the trunk.
“Grab his feet,” I bark out after I have the trunk wide open for our prisoner. She does as told, not batting an eye at my sour tone, and we get the heavy as hell man loaded in. “I’m going to be on my bike, and you’re following. Don’t stop anywhere. Keep on my ass, but don’t fuckin’ hit me.” I don’t wait for her to respond before I’m walking to my bike and roaring it to life. I do glance up to the car to make sure she’s inside and ready to follow. When I see she is, I ride out, trying to push back the anger that Rock put me on babysitting duty.
Twenty-Three
Grace
It seems like we drive for hours until we reach a small auto shop with a large sign saying, “Jasper Repair,” three towns away from Cental. It’s dark by now. I heard Brock in the trunk shout a few times before he finally went quiet.
Tanya has fallen asleep in the backseat and doesn’t stir as I park next to where Gin has stopped. Rolling down my window, I wait to turn off the car until I get further instruction. That’s when I realize he’s on the phone, silently listening to whomever is on the other end of the call. His only response is a slight nod every so often until he says, “Got it,” then ends the call. His head turns my way after he takes the phone and snaps it in half, tossing the pieces to the asphalt parking lot. “Stay put.” His eyes flick to mine to confirm I heard his instruction, then he’s starting up his bike again and driving out of the lot. I wait there.