Fighting for Forever

by J. B. Salsbury

  Cloth presses against my mouth. I force my lips closed against the intrusion. He wraps a hand around my neck, squeezing tight. “Open. Now.”

  “Fuck y—” Fabric presses between my teeth and pulls tight. I wince as Drake ties it around the back, ripping hairs from my head in the process.

  Another strip of cloth grazes my forehead before the room is plunged into darkness.

  “Pull the car around.” He releases my cuffed arm and presses between my shoulder blades. “Get the fuck up.”

  I stand on wobbly legs as he pulls both hands behind my back. The click of the cuffs sends dread swirling in my belly.

  Robbed of sight, speech, and mobility, I’m at the mercy of these psychos and marching to the beat of my death sentence.

  Mason

  “Shit!” My legs throb with restrained energy. The urge to race out of here, kick that fucking door down, and rage has me jumping out of my skin. “Fuck this. I’m going.”

  Rex doesn’t say a word, but climbs from the truck with me, and we move toward the door. Adrenaline races through my veins, and I have to fight to stay upright as the flow makes me unsteady.

  I don’t know what’s going on behind that door, but I swear to God if they touched a hair on Trix’s head I’ll kill them with my bare hands and paint the walls in their blood.

  My vision clouds, fading to tunnel vision with my focus on that door. I’m vaguely aware of Rex at my back, grateful that he’s letting me take the lead on this. We close in when suddenly I’m grabbed from behind. Arms like pythons tighten around my body, and one big hand covers my mouth.

  Oh, fuck no.

  I leverage my weight, step to the side, ready to sweep the asshole’s leg.

  “Baywatch.” Jonah’s voice hisses in my ear. “Calm the fuck down. We’re not the enemy.”

  He releases me, and I spin to see Blake releasing Rex from a similar hold. They motion to a nearby dumpster and we jog there, staying low to the ground.

  “You dickheads almost got shot.” Rex shoves Blake, who only grins.

  “How’d you find us?”

  Blake and Jonah share a look I can’t read before Blake lifts an eyebrow. “Wild guess.”

  I run a hand through my hair. “Gia.”

  Rex groans. “Swear to Christ that woman is gonna be the death of me.”

  “Can’t believe you dick-lickers were gonna keep us out of this.” Blake bounces a scowl between us.

  “Feels like déjà vu.” Jonah’s arms bulge against the black fabric of his long-sleeved shirt, like coiled snakes ready to destroy. His jaw clenches. “Gotta say I’m lookin’ forward to finally putting this cocksucker down.”

  Blake, dressed similarly in all black, rolls his head around on his neck. “Fuckin’ love beatin’ up fat bikers, man. Like punching marshmallow.”

  “Don’t want you guys getting involved in this.” I prop my hands on my hips, needing to give them something to do because knowing my woman is possibly only yards away is making me fucking schizo. “You’re married, got kids. Let us—”

  Blake presses his finger to my mouth. “Shush, babycakes. Let the adults take this one.”

  I practically spit off his finger, and his cocky grin makes me want to throat punch him, but there are more deserving people just inside this motel.

  “Right, so what are we about to face?” Jonah’s expression takes on a feral glint. “Please tell me you guys have a better plan than just storming through the front—”

  The creak of a rusty motel room door has us all ducking, moving like shadows in unison for a closer look.

  “Well, if it isn’t our old friend, that tubby fuck.” Rex growls and I move, only to get hooked around the bicep and pulled back. “Where’s he going?”

  “Baywatch, don’t be an idiot.” The low timbre of Jonah’s voice snaps me back.

  Blake holds up a hand. “Let’s wait. We don’t have a visual yet.”

  I shake my head. “No, I can’t wait.” I point to the room Hatch just exited. “She could be in there with some fuckin’ guy right now!” I stand to move forward, not caring if any of those assholes catch wind of me. If anything, the very idea of getting spotted sends a thrill through my muscles as they stretch and prepare for a fight.

  The low rumble of a truck engine catches my attention, and I crouch instinctively. An older Jeep Wrangler, brown, lifted, with no top and huge KC lights comes from around the corner with Hatch behind the wheel.

  “Shit, they’re moving.” Rex motions for us to head back to my truck.

  “Wait, why not just take this asshole down here?”

  “Patience, man. They have a gun on her, see us coming; we don’t want to risk that.” The anger in Jonah’s voice is palpable.

  “If she’s even here.” Blake doesn’t take his eyes off the door as Hatch heads in to the motel room.

  Come on, baby. Come on. Let me see you.

  Seconds later he strolls out, his eyes scan the surrounding area, and then he motions for the man behind him to follow.

  It’s dark, and the man in the baseball hat emerges with a woman.

  My heart throbs. Vision blurs. But nothing can mistake the platinum and purple streaks.

  “Fuck!” They have her. As anger boils so does relief. She’s alive.

  T-shirt. Bare legs. A growl gurgles up from my chest. Guided by the other guy, she’s blindfolded and gagged, but seems unharmed.

  I fish my keys from my pocket. “Call the cops. Now.”

  “They’re thirty minutes away.”

  I rip my gaze from Trix to set it on Blake. “Perfect. They’ll get here in time to clean up the bodies.”

  Thirty-seven

  Trix

  “Get down and stay down.” Drake hooks my neck and pulls my head to his lap.

  I resist, but he’s stronger, and my cheek crashes against his thigh.

  He chuckles. “Aww, come on. I know this position ain’t new to you.”

  I try to grind my teeth but only meet the unforgiving fabric of my gag. The engine roars, and we reverse in a quick jerk. Drake’s hold on my shoulder is the only thing keeping me from tumbling to the floorboard. I track our movements. Three left turns before we finally reach top speed.

  The wind is warm, howling in my ears and whipping my hair around my face in stinging slaps. We’re on the highway, and judging by the hoist I needed to get in the car, I’d say we’re in some kind of all-terrain vehicle. My guess is we’re headed further outside of town, and the sick roll of my stomach worries about being taken to a more secluded location.

  The smell of Drake’s cologne pollutes the fresh air, and I wish I could curl my arms around my stomach to keep myself covered and shielded from the wind. I flex my fists and focus on the burn of my handcuffs hoping to take my focus from the ache in my chest.

  Mason’s brother is behind my kidnapping. That two faced son-of-a-bitch! My fingers itch to wrap my hands around his bitch-ass throat, choking the life out of him before throwing him to the highway like roadkill.

  Part of me almost feels sorry for him. After all, Mason’s not stupid. However this ends, Mason will figure it out, and he will destroy his brother for it.

  I don’t know how much time has passed, but it feels like forever before we slow and turn right. The sound of tires crunching on bare dirt fires panic in my blood. We’re not in the mountains. If anything, I sensed a descent. We must be in the desert.

  I focus on my hearing, searching for some source of help, the sound of other cars, people, anything, but I’m met with silence. The only smell I can detect outside of Drake’s cologne is dirt.

  We slow and I’m tapped on the shoulder. “We’re here.” Drake helps to push me up and brushes against my knees as he climbs out in front of me. “Here.” He grabs my biceps to lead me out.

  My head swims. Lack of food and getting up too quickly throw me off balance. My bare foot catches. I tumble forward, the gag preventing me from calling out. My shoulder slams against something sharp. Pain splinters down m
y arm.

  “Fuck.” Drake scoops under my arms, twisting me at an odd angle to pull me free of the back seat. He mumbles a curse. “You’re bleeding.”

  Panic taints his voice. Why? He kidnapped and took me to the middle of nowhere to be killed, and he’s upset because I’m bleeding?

  He leans me up against the vehicle, and he touches my bicep. “Shit.” Turning me around, he releases my hands from the cuffs. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  My shoulders ache, but I move to inspect my wound. Still blindfolded, I run my fingers over the torn cotton shirt to the wet and ragged skin beneath. I wince and follow the trickle of blood that flows down to my wrist.

  He fumbles with the tie at the back of my head. “Here, let me—

  I slap his hand away, yelling get the fuck off me, but it’s all gibberish from behind my gag.

  A growled sound of frustration reaches my ears at the same time his hands go back to my head. “Trust me, okay?”

  Is he out of his fucking mind?

  The gag is pulled free. I work my jaw back and forth to squelch the ache then move to pull free my blindfold.

  “No.” His hands hold mine still. “Not yet.”

  My arm stings as he wraps what I assume to be the gag around my wounded arm.

  “There. Come on.” He grips my wrist and pulls me forward.

  I take a few steps, cringing against the pain of jagged rocks beneath my feet. I stumble as something sharp pierces the ball of my foot. I hiss through my teeth and trip, but strong arms keep me from falling.

  Another huff of frustration and I’m off the ground, pressed against a solid chest. The scent of leather and highway give Hatch away as he cradles me and moves with heavy steps. I try to reach down, to tuck the length of the T-shirt I’m wearing over my bare butt.

  Hatch chuckles. “Don’t bother. Too dark to see shit out here.”

  “Where are you taking me?” I don’t expect an answer, but I have to ask. At the very least I need to keep them talking.

  “You’ll see soon enough.” His voice is cold, harder than I’m used to hearing; although everything about Hatch has changed.

  Low murmurs of male voices prick my ears and send my pulse skyrocketing. More of them. A lot more of them.

  I wiggle, fighting for Hatch to release me. I don’t care how much it hurts. I’ll run. They might shoot me in the back, but I have a feeling a quick death would be better than what they have planned.

  “Please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” I fight harder only to be locked down tightly to his chest.

  “No way. I need this and”—he gets quiet, as if he’s struggling with what he’s about to say—“so do you.”

  My mouth hangs open, prepared to launch at him for saying I need to be murdered, but before I can get the first word out, my feet are dropped to the warm desert floor.

  He swings me around so that my back is to him, his hands placed firmly on my shoulders. Then he’s gone.

  I sway, disoriented now that I don’t have something grounding me. I reach for my blindfold, knowing that if someone is close enough they’ll stop me, and if not, I’ll run.

  Slowly, I peel back the fabric, and when no one stops me, I push it up to my forehead. Fuzzy silhouettes come into focus, and my eyes grow wide as fear chills my blood.

  All men.

  Some I recognize as Hatch’s crew, others I don’t. They’re all standing in a circle around me, each one with the stone-hard face of a killer. My pulse pounds in my neck, and my legs feel like they’re filled with concrete.

  The ring of bodies parts to let through a man I don’t recognize. Overgrown dark brown hair with a hint of gray around his sideburns, he doesn’t look all that threatening. His average height and slightly muscular build scream every day guy, but the aura of pure evil that reflects in his black glare tells me all I need to know.

  This dude is dangerous.

  “Job well done, son.” His words are directed at Drake, who I’ve noticed isn’t standing in the circle along with the others, but is a few feet behind my left shoulder.

  Drake simply nods.

  Son? Drake kidnapped me for his dad?

  Memories of what Mason told me about Drake’s dad filter through my mind: criminal, psychopath, soulless.

  I blink, the confusion and utter ridiculousness of this making my head swim.

  Drake’s dad spins on his heel to address the group. “You’ve all pledged to join me, to make my friends your friends and my enemies your enemies.” He prowls in slow circles around me like a predator stalking his prey. “Tonight we make a blood oath.”

  They all grunt their agreement.

  “We shed blood to prove our loyalty and our commitment to the club and to each other. If one goes down, we all go down.” His eyes pierce mine and a slow smile curves his lips. “This lovely sacrifice has been brought to us by my son.” His gaze swings to Drake. “You’ve proven you’re ready to move on, and after tonight, you have my blessing.”

  Drake winces as his dad grips his shoulder. “And if you tell anyone about what you know, I’ll have you as an accomplice to murder.” He smiles at his son as if he just wished him good luck on his SATs.

  His attention shifts back to me, and I search for Hatch to plead that he save me, but his eyes are downcast in avoidance. I turn to Drake, whose expression is a blank wall. He nods, and when I turn around, his father is less than a foot from me.

  I gasp and lean away from him.

  He hooks the back of my neck and pulls me toward him until I can feel the heat of his breath on my face. His hand slides around to cup my jaw, and he runs the pad of his thumb along my cheek in tender swipes. “Incredible . . .” His eyes twinkle with wonder, and my insides meet his compliment with nausea. “You look just like her.”

  Everything stops. My breath. Blood. Heartbeat. All of it suspended for a moment in time, everything except his lips.

  “Now you’ll die like her.”

  Mason

  “Why the fuck are we just sitting here?” I whisper to the guys as we crouch low behind a gathering of large creosote bushes.

  Blake and Jonah share a look, something they’ve been doing often, and it makes me want to knock their skulls together.

  Jonah studies me, and I can’t miss the flash of pity I see in his eyes. “We’re outnumbered. There’re at least twenty of them, and they’re most likely armed.”

  “So what? We just sit here with our dicks in our hands and wait for the cops? Who knows what could happen to her before they get here?”

  We’d followed the rusty Jeep, maintaining a good distance to keep from getting spotted, and once they turned down the secluded desert road we had to pull even further back. At one point, I thought we’d lost them, but thankfully the sandy dirt tracks were an excellent giveaway.

  “Got a better idea?” Blake’s eyes stay forward, his body tense.

  I turn back and calculate how long it would take to grab my truck parked about a mile away behind a large boulder. They might have guns, but if I drive fast enough, I could burst through their little Kumbaya circle and grab Trix.

  “Yeah, I do.” I turn to head to my truck.

  “Whoa, hold up.” Rex snags my elbow, pulling me back to the bush. “Do you see that?”

  We all lean in, squinting through the sparse leaves. The circle of men has split into a large U-shape, and in the middle is Trix. Her stark white T-shirt glows in a pool of inky black night. She’s still, not being held in place by anyone or anything physical, but stuck nonetheless. Her body sways, but her feet stay planted.

  “She drugged?” Jonah growls and the tension between around us escalates.

  One guy steps forward, clearly visible now that the circle has opened up. He’s talking, using his hands to motion between Trix and the men who stand around bouncing on their toes in anticipation.

  “This is bad.” I squint for a better look while the guy waves his arms around. “This is really ba—what the fuck?”

 
Elijah.

  Fire ignites in my veins and pushes me to stand. The guys hiss at me to get down, but it’s too late. Simple static fills my ears as I move forward. Hands grip my legs, my arms, but I shake them off as if they’re nothing while my focus zeroes in on Elijah.

  They must hear me coming as, all of a sudden, the eyes of the enemy swivel toward me. Trix stares blankly at nothing, not registering my approach. The weight of the knife in my pocket warms my thigh, but I don’t reach for it. My fists ball, and I prepare to destroy the man who’s been fucking with my brother since birth, the man who’s tormented my mom, and now the man who’s fucked with my woman.

  “Mason?” My stride slows, and my stomach hollows out at the sound of Drake’s voice. Him too?

  He steps into my line of sight, standing as a barrier between Elijah and me, locking Trix behind him.

  I blink and force my lips to move, processing his hat, his shirt, his . . . It was him at the motel. “You? You did this!” Adrenaline bursts like sweet nectar into my blood and feeds my anger. “My own fucking brother!”

  I move to the echo of my roar as it acts like a war cry to my soul.

  He puts his hands up, but it’s too late. “No—”

  My fist connects. The sickening crack sends him skidding across the dirt.

  Chaos breaks out behind me, but I only have eyes for the man in front of me.

  Elijah grins, daring me to move. I lunge. He moves and pulls Trix to his chest. “One more move and the girl dies.”

  I fix on her eyes, no longer vacant but now aware and filled with fear.

  “Mason . . .” Her lips whisper and fade into a whimper.

  Blood. All I see is blood. Her upper arm is wrapped and blood-soaked from an older wound. My stomach lurches. A slow stream leaks from where the tip of Elijah’s knife is pointed at her neck.

  “Back the fuck up or she’s dead.” He says it like a challenge more than a threat.

  He wants to kill her.

  “Don’t hurt her.” I step back, keeping my eyes on hers, and hoping like hell she can find strength in them. “Let her go.”