Unthinkable: The Blazers MC

by Paula Cox

  “Miss Sykes,” he said, gesturing broadly in a way that made her wrinkle her nose with distaste. “We’re so pleased you could join us.”

  There were two courses of action here. She could cross her arms and let her sassiness be a shield, or she could play the good girl, simper and be afraid, and hope that she’d get out of this that way. She wasn’t honestly sure that either one would work, but damn, she didn’t know what else to do. And the sass was a hell of a lot more natural for her, no matter what she wanted.

  She crossed her arms, let her left hip pop just a little, and raised an eyebrow.

  “I didn’t realize I had a choice,” she said, pleased that her voice didn’t shake. “Your goons definitely made it sound like attendance was compulsory. If choice is at play here? I’d like a ride back to where you found me.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed just a little bit, his smile cooling down just a couple of degrees.

  “I wish it were that simple, Miss Sykes, I really do,” he said. “But unfortunately, with Mr. Keller deciding, yet again, to evade our conversations, we must speak to whoever we can find. That means you because Mr. Keller has made the unfortunate decision to continue to involve you in what was supposed to be a very simple conversation.”

  “Keller hasn’t told me anything,” Lola said, and this time she couldn’t entirely control the fear in her voice. Dammit, sassy only worked if they believed you had no fear. She was too tired for this, too worn out. Too many shitty things had happened too fast.

  “Sit down,” the man said, gesturing towards the chair closest to her. Lola wanted to give him the finger and stay standing, but it would be easier to hide the fact that her knees were knocking together if she just sat down. So, she stalked to the chair and flung herself into it. She wasn’t going to be ladylike about it, even if she was — for now — giving them what they wanted. It’s for Grace, she told herself. Stay focused.

  “Cream and sugar in your coffee?” Back to business meeting etiquette, apparently.

  “No, black, please.” She didn’t actually want black coffee, at all, but it was better than nothing, and it would keep her from thinking she was happy here, in this chair.

  The man nodded to one of the other men seated at the table. She noticed that the other man — younger, less gray — got a little bit tight around the mouth before he stood and went to the coffee pot. Interesting. All was not well in paradise, it seemed. Of course, paradise was an abandoned office building on the outskirts of the outskirts. Trouble was probably already implied.

  Still, he did get up, and he put the little pod into the coffee machine, pushed a sequence of buttons, and then stood while the coffee brewed. He carried a small mug over and set it down in front of her. The coffee smelled awful; sharp and bitter. She sipped it anyway. She needed something to do with her hands, and this was better than nothing.

  “Now, Miss Sykes,” the man said, and Lola put up her hand.

  “Ms, please, if you don’t mind. And I’d like to know your name. If we’re supposed to be equals here.”

  His grin became positively shark-like. “Equals is an overstatement. Call me — oh, I don’t know. Mr. Black would be just fine.”

  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She’d never heard a more cartoon villain name outside of an actual cartoon. “Absolutely, Mr. Black.” She didn’t spit. That was a victory. “What is it you need from me? People keep asking me questions I don’t know the answer to, and all I want is to help a little girl go home safely.”

  “It’s more complicated than that, unfortunately,” said the man who’d gotten the coffee, earning himself a glare from Mr. Black. She liked him better immediately.

  Black picked up some kind of remote and pointed it at the bank of monitors. They lit up, and after a few moments, each one cycled to a different picture that looked like a security feed. Black and white, grainy, flickering. She studied them for a moment, and then her eyes locked on the picture in the upper right corner.

  “You see, Ms. Sykes,” Mr. Black said. “We know the girl is alive. We believe she has the information we need. But Mr. Keller has prevented us from being able to ask her some very necessary questions. All we want to do is ascertain whether or not the girl is any danger to us.”

  “If she doesn’t know whatever it is you’re worried about, what happens then?”

  “We apologize for the inconvenience, and send everyone on their way with our apologies and compliments.”

  “And if you find out she does have information you need?”

  Black’s smile got a little bit wider, animalistic. “Well, then things will get a little bit more complicated. Unfortunately. We’ll have to hope that we can all come to some sort of arrangement. I hope, for everyone’s sake, that it is possible.” The smile faded away like the sun as a cloud passed over it. “I’d hate to even think about what would happen if we couldn’t.”

  Lola tried to hide the shiver that ran down her spine. “And what does Keller have to do with all of this? Surely if your intentions are as innocent as you say, then he should want to bring the girl to you.”

  “If only Keller were as rational as you,” Black said, smiling that shark smile again. “Unfortunately, he seems to have his own opinions. He’s taken the girl somewhere else. I want you to get her back. I’ll ask my questions, and you’ll be on your way.”

  Her mind spun as she tried to think of a way out of this or a way through it. There was nothing she could think of, other than sheer, blind obedience. At least for now.

  “Okay,” she said, feigning frustration and acceptance. “Fine. I’ll do what you want. For Grace’s sake.”

  “Good,” Black replied. “Excellent choice. I’m so glad that we’re going to be working together, Ms. Sykes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Gunner was on the road again, the wind hard in his face. So many times over the past few days he’d been on his bike. It was where the world made the most sense, and where things were easiest to cope with. Especially hard things, like this—when the Viper had shown up at the clubhouse, spinning a tale about Lola being walked out of the mall by men in suits.

  Horse had half a mind to dismiss it, but the Viper member had described the outfit Lola had been wearing to a T, and what reason did he truly have to lie? Gunner had taken to the road with half the Breed at his back, and half the Vipers on their way. The Viper had sent the location where the SUV had taken Lola to his club and led Gunner and the Breed there personally.

  Outside the old office building, he took just a moment to make sure that everyone was ready. And then they rushed the door.

  Gunner had been in more than a few firefights in his life, but he’d never enjoyed them. He’d never felt good about firing a gun, and he’d never been entirely sure if he’d killed another person. He didn’t want to know. He’d been sick enough over the various beatings he’d given. But this was his daughter, and the woman he—Well, loved was an awfully strong word. But he cared about Lola. He cared about her a lot more than made any sense given the short time he’d known her. And if he had to kill someone because they meant her harm, well, then that was just what was necessary to keep her safe.

  With his siblings at arms, he rushed through the door, through a confusing series of corridors and old cubicles, coated with dust where they weren’t draped in plastic sheeting. The building smelled like mouse shit and something else, darker, that he couldn’t quite place.

  There were clear tracks through the dust to follow, and he followed them easily, letting them lead him deeper into the dark maze of a building. He could hear voices, and after a few turns, lights. He held up before he and the rest of the club members rushed the room, spending a moment getting an idea of what was happening.

  He could see a long conference table. Several suits around the table, who looked lazy, soft. One at the head of the table who looked like a hell of a snake, but not the kind who would be a threat in a fight. More you wouldn’t want against you — Well, at a table like this one. Ther
e were guys in suits all around the table, the kind who wore dark sunglasses inside and had their fancy suits cut so that they wouldn’t betray the shoulder harness worn underneath them. And at the end of the table was Lola. He recognized her from the hall of her dark, curly hair in its ponytail, and the set of her shoulders. She was nervous, but not as much as she could’ve been. He waited until the others with him were close by, guns out. His heart throbbed in his ears as he took a deep breath, let it halfway out, and then nodded.

  They boiled into the room in a rapid wave. He couldn’t track each moment as it happened; he reacted on instinct and movement, rather than consideration. There were shouts around him, of “Don’t move” and “On the ground” and “Listen up scum.” He saw one of the standing suits go for a gun and saw him fall backward, clutching at his shoulder. Another moved, close to Gunner, and he brought back the gun before bringing it down hard across the man’s temple, crumpling him to the floor like a sack of potatoes. It felt like ages, but it was just a few moments before the men were surrounded, put in their places, hands up in the air or down on the ground. Horse seemed to have the situation contained, and when he shared a quick nod with Gunner, Gunner let himself go to Lola.

  She all but flung herself up out of the chair, wrapping her arms around his neck and throwing her weight so hard against him that he wavered slightly on his feet.

  “Hey,” he let himself murmur into her neck, looking up at the ceiling so that the stinging in his eyes wouldn’t turn into something embarrassing. “Hey. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

  “Damn right I am,” she whispered back, and he could hear choked wetness in her voice as well. “But I’m getting really tired of this damsel in distress routine. Real tired.”

  “Well, tell you what,” he said. “Next time, you can rescue me. Deal?”

  “Yeah. That sounds good.”

  He pulled back enough to see her face and give her the shit-eating grin he knew she loved. “So how did a pretty girl like you end up in a—” He looked around, considering. “Crappy broken down office building like this?”

  Instead of laughing, though, the joy on her face stilled down into something between fear and worry.

  “They have Grace,” she said. “Or they know who does. But they don’t know where she is. And Gunner… we have to get to her first.”

  Something inside of him twisted in a knot, and then let go with a sharp and sudden wave of emotion. “We will. I promise. Tell me what you know.”

  He listened while Lola told him about the man who’d kidnapped her the previous day, who she’d seen at the mall, and who these men had told her had taken Grace and Laurel both, trying to find out if they knew anything about whatever Sam had been mixed up in so many years ago. He listened, but if he was completely honest, he struggled to actually hear any of the words.

  All this time, Sam had haunted him, her belief that Gunner’s love of bikes, riding, and being with people who loved it just as much as him, would get their baby killed. It had nearly broken their relationship dozens of times, and he had to admit that he’d wondered now and then if it had gotten Sam herself killed. But it hadn’t. None of it had shit to do with him. It was all about Sam, and her relentless passion and drive to right the wrongs of the world. It felt like a weight he’d carried for so many years was shifting off his chest, and he had the ability to draw a deep breath for the first time.

  And with that weight shifted, he could see Lola with new eyes. Fresh eyes. This woman had walked through fire right alongside him, put herself in danger over and over with no guarantee that anything was going to get any better or be any different, and she’d never paused. She’d never questioned if it was the right thing to do. She’d just helped. She was beautiful. She was here, in his arms. And maybe it was the emotion talking, maybe it was the stress, but he could only think of one thing to do.

  “I love you,” he whispered. Her eyes widened, and before he could scare himself wondering if she was surprised or happy or something in between, he kissed her.

  He’d shared plenty of kisses with her in the past few days, and every one of them had been good. There was something about this one, though. Whether it was being surrounded by his family, or the thrill of life or death, or the knowledge that they finally had a good lead to try and get his daughter back, something felt amazing and deep and powerful. Kissing her felt more honest, more real, than it ever had before.

  She seemed to share his feelings. She tightened her arms around him, molding her body to him, and letting out tiny little moans as he fit their mouths together perfectly. The kiss ended only when Horse let out a little throat clearing chuckle.

  “All right, lovebirds,” Horse said. “Reunion’s over. Time to get cracking on to where the hell this girl is.”

  Gunner forced himself to loosen his grip on Lola, but before he actually let go, she squeezed his hand. He glanced at her, and she mouthed the words, “I love you,” back before she let go of his hand. Something deep inside of him swelled, and he had to buckle down to keep from exploding into a grin that would have split his face open. He moved to Horse, who had his gun on the man who had been sitting opposite Lola, at the other end of the table.

  “This is Damian Roth,” Horse said, his voice calm and level. “Runs a few banks downtown, but more importantly, keeps money clean for any number of dirty interests in the area.” He gestured with his chin at one of the Vipers, a tall and burly man with curly black hair and dark brown skin. “Carl ID’d him. Says the Vipers used to use his services, but that the company went dark a few years back, then resurfaced with a shiny new client list, and old friends were no longer welcome.”

  Gunner nodded. He put his hip up on the table, trying to look conversational and “Good Cop.”

  “I suppose you’ve already tried tracing the feed back to that camera?” He pointed at the screen without letting himself actually look at it. He didn’t want to see his little girl’s face, twisted with stress and worry.

  Roth didn’t look up and didn’t say a thing. So much for “Good Cop” then; there was no way Gunner was going to be able to control himself in the face of a pissant in a business suit who thought he didn’t need to speak to a man who had a question. Horse was just going to need to be “Good Cop” for a change.

  Gunner shifted his balance so that his foot rested on the edge of the chair, the steel toe of his motorcycle boot resting right on top of Roth’s junk.

  “I’m not a patient man,” he said, keeping his voice as calm and level as he could. Which wasn’t very calm or level at this point, but hey, it was worth a try. “I’m going to ask again. And if you don’t answer me, I’m going to squash your fucking pencil dick into paste. We clear?”

  He saw Roth’s jaw clench, but the man didn’t look up. He glanced at Horse, who nodded and gestured at one of the women who’d come along with them. She went to the bank of monitors and started tracing wires. As soon as she found the main computer bank, she pulled something out of a small knapsack, and he could hear the clicking of keyboard keys.

  “We’re going to track down whatever you have going on here,” Gunner said, still striving to make his voice conversational. “I just want you to answer now, so you know that you will. So you know I don’t give a shit about what you think, what you want, what you think is most important. Who you think you might be protecting. Did you try and trace the signal yourself already?”

  Roth was clearly gritting his teeth, expecting the pain. It seemed only right to give it to him.

  It was a while before he screamed, but by then, Gunner had found out everything he needed to know.

  Chapter Thirty

  Lola had to turn away when Gunner started doing — whatever he was doing that made Roth, the man who’d introduced himself to her as Black, scream like that. She knew why it was happening, and she couldn’t bring herself to disagree that it was necessary, but at the same time, this was the life she had sworn she would never be a part of. And yet, she’d just told the man she loved him.
Well, mouthed it. Close enough.

  That kiss, it had seared her lips, tattooed itself on her heart, made everything between her thighs throb — and then he’d done something so incredibly cruel she’d had to close her eyes and refuse to see it. Without a second thought. A man who would fight so hard for his daughter, who would fight so hard for her — that had to be a good thing. An honorable thing. Didn’t it?

  The man didn’t scream for long. He gasped out whatever it was that Gunner wanted to know, and Gunner stopped the pain. He stepped back and away, and Lola could breathe again. He came to her quickly, but he didn’t try to turn her around or push her to look at him. She watched the bikers around her start to take the various suits out of the room, and she wondered for just a moment what would happen to them next. After a moment’s thought, however, she found that she really did not care at all. They’d kidnapped a child, kidnapped her, kidnapped Laurel, and had so casually spoken about killing all of them. As if it would never take more than a second thought.