by Cathryn Cade
"You want a piece of her, you make a phone call," Baby Face said. "You don't just show up here."
T kept on coming. "Okay," he said easily. "You can't help me, I'll talk to Faro."
At this point, Baby Face surprised him by pulling a switchblade out of a back pocket. He waved it in the air between them, narrowing his eyes and baring his teeth. "Nobody gets in I say don't."
T nodded agreeably. "Okay, that works."
But even as he spoke, he was moving. He kicked out his left leg, catching the guy right in the knees with his heavy motorcycle boot. At the same instant he grabbed his wrist.
The guy buckled like a little kid, and howled as T twisted his arm in a grip he'd gained through hours each day lifting and dealing with heavy, torqued-on engine parts. And pumping iron at the club house, of course.
Bearing the punk before him like a shield, T forged into the Pine Cabins office.
The scent of heavy cologne told him Faro had been here, although he wasn't now. A car engine snarled to life outside, followed by the deeper roar of a Harley.
"Well, fuck," T told his captive. "Guess your boss just run out on ya." With Moke in pursuit. Faro would play hell losing a biker on a Harley, even in a sportscar.
T dropped Baby Face, who sagged against Faro's desk, clutching his thigh. "You fuckin' blew out my knee."
"Yeah, and I'll do worse if you don't talk," T informed him. "Where's Manda?"
Sly cunning flickered through the man's reddened eyes. "She's with Rezan. And they're both gone by now."
T moved to his back foot, ready to head out for his truck, but something in the other man's face stayed him. Baby Face was lying. And if Manda hadn't gone with Faro, she was still here, somewhere.
"Really. So, say if I look in her cabin, I ain't gonna find her there?"
Baby Face sneered. "Nope."
T growled under his breath. "Well, then, let's you and me chat some more, and you can help me look for her."
Baby Face's eyes widened, and he scuttled around the desk with surprising speed. Yanking open a desk drawer, he pulled out a small revolver and aimed it at T-Bear.
Well, fuck, this wasn't good.
Something thudded against the wall behind the desk, shaking the old calendar that hung there.
"Ain't telling you nothing," Baby Face gritted. "Now get the fuck out of here before I use this!"
Strangely, the dull thudding came again, and again. The calendar rustled, swinging back and forth as the rickety wall vibrated. Baby Face wasn't anywhere near the back wall, and he sure as hell wasn't kicking it, too busy waving his little gun at T.
Which meant the blows were coming from the other side of the wall. Like maybe someone wanted out of the room back there.
T-Bear's gut leapt with excitement. Manda.
Outwardly, he sighed, and spread his arms. "All right, all right. I'll leave," he said as his fingers curled around the back of the folding chair sitting by the door. Before Baby Face could blink, T hurled the chair straight at him, diving to one side as he did so..
Baby Face fired the gun as amateurs do when panicked—not at T who was moving away from him, but at the chair that was flying toward him.
Bam! Bam! Bam! ...followed by a series of clicks as the dude kept pulling the trigger on empty chambers.
With a curse, Baby Face flung the gun at T-Bear and raced for the front door.
T let him go.
He surged forward, shoved open the door behind the desk, and pulled his small, powerful flashlight from his belt. The beam shone into a small, dark, dingy room, lighting up the white-and-gold dress of the woman on the floor.
Manda.
She lay huddled on the floor, head and shoulders against the wall behind her. Through the strands of hair straggling over her face, he could see that one side of her pretty face was swollen, blood trickled from her nose, and there was a strip of duct tape over her mouth. Her ankles were bound with plastic zip-ties, and the awkward way she held her shoulders, he could tell her wrists were bound behind her as well.
Fury roared through him, so hot he was vaguely surprised his head didn't burst into flames, lighting the place up like a supernova. He was gonna kill those fuckers for doing this to her—and he'd do it slowly, in the most painful way possible.
But for now, he'd found her. He had her.
And she was conscious, squinting into the light, and even as he came through the door she was pulling up her legs to kick one more time. Her feet struck an old metal filing cabinet, making it thud against the wall, the sound he'd heard.
"Smart girl," he muttered. "Fightin' even when they had you down."
Seeing him, she moaned something behind the tape, and then began to cry, a muffled, keening sound that smote his heart.
"Whoa, honey girl," he said, already reaching down for her. "It's me. Whoa, I gotcha, I gotcha. C'mon, baby, let's get you outta here."
He lifted her in his arms, so fragile and soft, and set her on her feet. Praise God she could stand, so hopefully no bones broken.
"Just hold on for one sec," he told her, stopping to press a kiss to the uninjured side of her face. Fuck, her skin was like ice. "Gotta get you outta these zip ties. Don't know who's waitin' for us out there, and I want you ready to get down, or run if I tell you."
She nodded, snuffling as she struggled to breathe through her swollen nose. He paused. "First, gotta get this tape off so you can breathe. Ain't gonna lie, it's gonna sting. Ready, one, two..." he found a corner of the tape and pulled it from her face with one steady but careful motion. He wanted to get it gone, but not rip her delicate skin off with the tape.
She whimpered again, and then sucked in a deep breath. "T-B'r," she mumbled, as if her swollen lips wouldn't quite work. "You came f' me."
His heart swelled painfully in his chest. "Sure as hell I did, honey girl." He pulled her against him, cradling her trembling body as he flipped open his knife, peered over her shoulder to see the zip-ties on her wrists, and slid the knife carefully between them to cut. When her hands were free, he bent and sliced those binding her ankles.
Outside, a truck motor roared to life, and a drive-train squealed as the driver spun the wheel too hard. Baby Face, trying to get his tricked-out ride away from T's old truck.
"Right.” T straightened with Manda at his left side, pistol in his right hand, gaze on the open door, and what lay outside. "Stay behind me, hang on to my belt. You do that?"
She nodded, though she swayed on her feet. Rage roared again in T-Bear. Fuckin' hell, she could barely stay upright, she sure as hell wouldn't be running anywhere.
The truck motor roared again, and something heavy hit the building. Metal and wood groaned, and glass shattered.
T covered Manda with his body, gun at the ready. What the ever lovin' hell?
Manda behind him, T peered out into the office. It was empty...unless you counted the front end of a fancy silver truck now protruding through the wall. Through the opening, Baby Face’s wild eyes met T's. The idiot had driven his tricked-out truck right into the front of the office!
The dude screamed something at T, his face red and contorted. He hit the gas again. T braced himself, ready to haul Manda back out of harm's way.
But the silver truck lurched backward, this time striking T's truck. T winced as his old rig rocked with the force, but you had to love pre-seventies Chevy construction—solid steel, with heavy-duty suspension. His truck would be all right, maybe a new dent or two, but Baby Face’s truck bed was now crumpled like a handful of used tinfoil.
This did not stop the dumb-ass from shifting again, and driving away. The silver pickup screamed away along the narrow drive. Just before it disappeared into the trees, the rear bumper and one tail-light fell off, dragging along like festive, post-wedding decor.
T grinned savagely. That messed up rig wasn't going far, not out of town anyway. There'd be plenty of time for T and his brothers to find him.
"All right," he said. "Looks like the cockroaches have left th
e building. Safe for us to get you outta here."
Manda's fingers went slack on his belt, and he whirled just in time to catch her as she went down, face pale as a snowbank under the blood and bruises, eyes half-closed. T caught her, then lifted her up in his arms.
Either Moke would catch Faro or not, but T was getting Manda out of this pit-hole.
His phone vibrated as he set her in his truck, laid on the seat with her head pillowed on his leather jacket, her feet tucked up on the wide bench seat.
"You got T," he said as he strode around the cab to the driver's side.
"What'd I tell you 'bout waiting for the rest of us?" Rocker growled into his ear. "Where are you?"
"At Faro's shit-hole place in Rathdrum," T barked back, in no mood to be chastised. "He's gone, his goon with him. Moke's after Faro. I got the girl, I'm bringin' her to the emergency room. She's beat up bad, just passed out on me. Don't know how bad her head injury is, but her face is messed up and there’s blood on the back of her head, like he slapped her around, then bounced her off a wall. So it could be bad."
It was a good fucking thing T hadn't waited any longer, or those two might've had her out to play some more—and he wasn't talkin' reindeer games.
"God-fucking-damnit.” Rocker’s voice was dark with anger. "All right, brother. Bring her to Sacred Heart in Spokane. You got a long shot down to Kootenai Hospital in Coeur d’Alene from where you are, may as well cut through the valley and come west. She'll be close, so we can keep eyes on her. Meet you there. One of us will reach out to Moke."
"Later," T-Bear said, and swung into his truck, already turning the key in the ignition. Despite the punk's attempts to damage the rig, the motor roared smoothly to life, and T backed around and headed out.
Manda lay limp on the seat beside him, pale as death, her pretty hair matted with blood.
Every time he didn't need both hands for shifting, T laid his hand on her throat. The pulse under his fingers was thready, but she was alive, thank sweet Jesus. And no longer in Faro's clutches.
The drive down across the valley, through Spokane on I-80, and up the steep South Hill to the soaring bulk of Sacred Heart Hospital took forty minutes.
It was the longest drive of his life.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
* * *
T and Rocker sat together in T's truck in the parking lot outside Sacred Heart Hospital high on Spokane's South Hill.
When T pulled to halt under the portico, Rocker had been waiting for him inside the ER doors, and by the time T was out of the truck two hospital personnel were there with a gurney. They swiftly but carefully loaded Manda onto it and wheeled her inside and through the ER to a curtained cubby.
T followed, giving them the info he had—that Manda was the victim of a beating which he thought had happened a few hours ago. And no, she wasn't as far as he knew on any drugs, nor was she a user. This done, he could do no more, but watch as a doctor and assistant took over, hooking her up to monitors and an IV, and calling for various tests.
He then had to give a statement to one of Spokane's finest, while Rocker waited nearby. This took a while, as it was clear the young cop recognized their Flyers' cuts. He questioned T meticulously, going over his story more than once. Since the kid was doing his best for Manda, T was okay with that.
When a big bruiser like him brought in a woman beat to hell, of course everyone was going to suspect domestic violence. He'd seen the suspicious looks on the doctor's face and his assistants. Didn't blame 'em one bit. The shit they saw come in here would leave anyone suspecting the worst of their fellow humans.
Finally they were done jawing, T had assured Officer Shin that he would not be leaving the area, but would in fact be remaining in the hospital until Manda woke, and the cop went off to make his report.
Checking in on Manda, T found she was being admitted, and would soon be heading for the first in a series of tests to ascertain the severity of trauma to her head. Since T had no idea of her next of kin, or their whereabouts, he was encouraged to leave his phone number as contact on her chart. He also left his credit card information for payment, since he also had no idea if she had any kind of insurance.
He wasn't sure his bank account was up to covering all of her expenses in this place, but he didn't know what else to do.
Now T sat with Rocker in the truck. Rocker had made the decision it was time to clue their president in, and fast.
"This is fucked up," T muttered, gazing at the wet parking lot, now washed with spring sunshine pouring between the clouds. An ambulance pulled into the ER drive, lights flashing.
"Oh, yeah," Rocker agreed. He put his phone to his ear. "Stick? Yeah, he's here. Got the girl into the ER. Don't know, they're checking her over now. Nope. All right, I"ll tell him. See you then."
He looked over to T. "The Black Wolves are over at the casino for a few hours. Pretending to gamble while they check out the competition. Anyway, Stick's callin' church at 5 o'clock. That's in... two hours. You're gonna be on deck."
T nodded. "Yeah, I figured." He set his hands on the steering wheel and squeezed, until his arms knotted and his knuckles whitened with pressure. "Gonna find that little fuck-head, Rock. And I'm gonna rip his dick off and feed it to him. And his stupid little muscle boy, too. They touched her... scared her... smacked her around."
Rocker nodded. "I know, brother. But none of that's your fault."
T groaned. "Yeah, it is. I shouldn'ta left her there. I knew she was too fine to stay at those crap-hole cabins, I knew it. And I still drove off an' left her there. She's new to the life, Rock. Don't think she had any idea what she'd walked into with Faro."
"No, I'm sure not. No more than Opal did. The important thing is, you got Manda out. She has a chance to get out of the life, and that's thanks to you. So do not beat yourself up for what that little sociopath did to her. Yeah, he fooled her, he fooled you and a lot of other people, I expect. But now we got him in our sights, and that means his days are numbered. So you focus on how we can help her when she wakes up. Yeah?"
He grasped T's shoulder. "We will get him. And when we do, you get first go at him. How's that sound?"
T looked at him. "Fuckin' awesome."
"All right" Rocker slapped him on the shoulder. "I'm off. See you in a few."
He gave T a look that said he'd best be in the club house meeting room in two hours, ready to explain himself to his brothers and officers, no matter what.
T sighed. "I'll be there."
For now, he wanted to get back inside, and find out if the doctors had any answers, and where they were taking Manda.
At five o'clock that evening, T walked across the main room of the clubhouse, into the hallway, and through the double doors of their meeting room. Once a flooring display room, it now held a long oak table surrounded by several chairs. On the north wall hung an American flag, with a Devil's Flyers banner below. The windows were shielded with heavy shades.
Stick already sat in the big chair before the flag, with Rocker at his right hand, Bouncer to his left.
The mood in the room was not warm and fuzzy. And the chilly displeasure radiated chiefly from Stick Vanko. A powerful man, he led their chapter with the force of his personality and intellect.
T was bigger, physically more powerful, and reasonably intelligent, but he didn't kid himself about who the boss was here. Their club had few rules, but he'd broken one of the paramount—when ordered to wait to move on a situation, a brother held himself in check, and he waited. Today, T had not done this.
Now, despite the chill in the room, as he took his seat on one side of the long table, he was sweating under his tee and cut.
Moke followed T in, and Cooler, Snake, Webb and Knife weren't far behind. Pete was last in, closing the door behind him.
Hootch was in Cali. Toro, a short Hispanic built like his namesake bull, was visiting his extensive family in Pasco, and a few of the other brothers were at work.
Stick took his seat at the head of the tab
le. "All right," he said in his deep, cold voice. "We have a situation. T-Bear, fill us in." Stick's pale, icy gaze was a silent demand that T had better make it good.
T-Bear wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs, and swallowed.
Then he told them how he'd met Rezan Faro at one of the poker nights at a State Line strip club. How Faro had messaged him Friday afternoon that he knew T liked blondes, and he had a new one for T to meet.
T had accepted after he saw Manda's picture on his phone, taken her out to supper at the Roadhouse in Rathdrum, then back to the Pine Cabins. He related how he'd left her there, not happy about the condition of the place, but reasoning that she was safe for then, because Faro was on site.
And how everything had changed the next morning when Rocker had told him of Faro's attack on a stripper earlier in the winter. How T’s gut said he shouldn't wait to get Manda out of Faro's grasp. How he'd finally acted on that.
And how he found her bound and beaten, proving his hunch right on the money.
"Sorry, Stick, Rocker, Bounce," he said to the officers, his voice hoarse from talking. "Rocker said wait, and I didn't. And I'll take whatever consequences you decide, no protest. But... if I'd waited for the rest of you to back me up, she coulda been in worse shape. No way they were gonna leave her alone much longer. An’ being honest, if I had to do it over, I'd do the same."
"So what's your plan now?" Stick asked.
T blinked. He'd been occupied with telling his story, keeping every detail straight. He’d made eye contact while doing so, but Stick was damn good at maintaining a poker face. Now, the pres looked almost relaxed, lounging back in his chair as if he hadn't a care in the world.
T shifted uneasily, his face heating. "Well... now you mention it, she needs somewhere safe when she comes outta the hospital. I thought maybe I'd ask if Manda can stay in the little house on your property," he admitted. "She's got nowhere to go. No money, no job, nothin'. Her shit-head ex even took her clothes and shit with him when he dumped her."
Stick eyed him for a long, gut-knotting moment. Then he slowly shook his head. "No. Sorry, but I don't want to risk bringing trouble to my doorstep, if Faro comes looking for her. I got Sara and the boys to worry about."