by Joanna Wylde
Empowering.
I stepped closer, leaning down to examine his smashed hand.
“That’s never going to heal up right,” I said softly, then looked up at his face. One of his eyes was swollen nearly shut, and it took everything I had not to poke it, just to see him flinch. “So I’ve been trying to decide what I should do to make you pay … I could hit you, or poke you, or maybe just take those broken fingers of yours and start twisting them around for fun. Maybe cut them off? That’s what your friends did to Jessica.”
He grunted frantically and I spat in his face, which was vaguely satisfying, but nowhere near enough. I stood up, glancing around the room. In the corner was a pile of wood scraps, including a chunk of two-by-four about the length of a bat. Perfect. I walked over and grabbed it, hefting it experimentally. Felt good in my hand.
Gage gave a low, warning whistle.
“We need him alive,” he said. “And able to talk.”
I nodded thoughtfully, then walked back toward Nate, studying his frame. Drawing back the wood, I swung it at his right knee with everything I had. It hit with a crunch and he screamed through the gag. I felt a little sick to my stomach, but forced myself to speak.
“That’s for using Jessica, and sending her down to California.”
Taking a deep breath, I hit him again, this time on the other knee. He gave another piercing screech, then started a low, steady keening in pain.
“That’s for fucking things up with me and Reese.”
I paused to consider the situation. I wanted to hit him again. I’d planned one blow for each thing he’d done to ruin my life, which meant I still owed him for lying to me and for blowing up my house. Instead I dropped the two-by-four, because no matter how much the man deserved to suffer, a part of me realized I was sinking to his level.
Turning toward Reese, I spoke. “I’m good. Thanks for that.”
He raised a brow.
“Sure? You might not have another chance.”
I shrugged.
“He’s like a vicious dog,” I told him softly, realizing it was true. “No point in torturing a dog, even one that’s a killer. Best to just shoot it in the head and dump the body.”
Nate made another noise and I heard the chair scrape against the concrete floor. Ignoring him, I focused on Reese, holding those ice-blue eyes of his steadily, savoring the sight of the little wrinkles at the corners as he gave me a strange little smile. In the background, I was vaguely aware that Gage watched us curiously. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
“You ready to go?” Reese asked me quietly. I nodded. Whatever happened next, I wasn’t lying or playing games. I’d made my decision and it filled me with a weird sense of peace.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
By the time we hit Portland, I was exhausted but still absolutely determined to do whatever I could to help the club—not only were they my best hope for saving Jessica, they were also my best shot at some sort of revenge for what those cartel fuckers had done to my life.
I needed sleep first, though. In a big way.
The short rides I’d taken with Reese hadn’t come close to preparing me for this. My ass had started to hurt, growing slowly worse until finally it went numb. Even if I hadn’t been sleep-deprived the trip would’ve killed me. Just to make things more pleasant, not one of the fifteen men riding with us would talk to me, or even look me in the eye.
Good times.
When we finally pulled down a narrow alley into a residential neighborhood, I didn’t quite register that the ride was over. We stopped in front of a great big old carriage house with huge wooden sliding doors on the back. They opened slowly and the men rolled their bikes in, leaving just enough room on one side for the battered gray cargo van that had trailed us from Coeur d’Alene. They had a prospect driving it, but I had no idea what was in the back.
No way I’d be asking, either.
I’d learned my lesson about questions.
The heavy doors slid shut behind us, blocking out the light and sound. Some seriously solid walls in this place. As my vision adjusted, I looked around in the gloom to find Hunter, Em’s boyfriend, watching the activities with a proprietary air.
His gaze caught on me standing next to Reese, and he strolled over to join us.
“What’s the story there, Pic?” he asked quietly, ignoring me. “Not a trip for women.”
Reese shook his head, face grim.
“We had an unpleasant incident yesterday,” he said. “I’ll tell you all about it later, but the quick and dirty is she tried to kill me. Cartel was behind it.”
Hunter’s face hardened.
“Sorry to hear that,” he said. “We were all hopin’ it would work out.”
“Shit happens,” Pic said. “Fuckers have her cousin—she did it to save the kid’s life.”
“Sounds like an interesting story,” Hunter said, his jaw tightening. “So she’s a prisoner?”
Reese nodded sharply.
“Haven’t decided what to do with her yet, but figure the Portland prospects can babysit her just as easy as the Coeur d’Alene ones. Didn’t want to leave her behind. We haven’t had time to make any decisions, you know how that goes.”
“I got a strong room we can put her in,” Hunter said.
“We’ll need that for someone else.”
That caught my attention, and I glanced back at the van. Had they hauled Nate across the state, too?
“How about the storage room upstairs?” Hunter asked. “It’s not as secure, but the window’s high enough she won’t be able to climb out and she’ll have to pass through the chapel to leave the building. Should be safe enough for the afternoon.”
“Sounds good,” Reese answered. He gave me a nudge and I followed Hunter upstairs through a big, open space with a broad wooden table and then down a hallway to the storage room.
“Don’t touch anything,” he told me, his voice grim. “You wouldn’t wanna learn what happens if you break something. And if you find something in here you can use as a weapon, don’t. This is my place, and I don’t give a damn how much Pic likes fuckin’ you. You pull any shit, you’re dead.”
I nodded, studying the room after he closed the door behind me. Dusty boxes lined three of the four walls. The last wall had a garage sale couch pushed up against it, and above the couch was an old leaded-glass window. I climbed onto the cushions and looked out to find a fenced backyard hidden behind the carriage house. The house attached to the yard was two stories, with a high porch off the back. It looked to have been built about a hundred years ago—obviously one of those not-quite-Victorians littering the older neighborhoods in Portland.
Must be Hunter and Em’s place, I realized. They probably lived in the house while his club used the carriage house out back as a base of operations. Not a bad setup, all things considered.
I could see a barbecue pit in the center of the grass, with several canvas folding chairs circling it. There wasn’t much open space, though. The yard was essentially a jungle—just a mass of overgrown shrubs surrounded by a circle of mature trees providing complete privacy, despite the fact that I knew there had to be buildings on either side of us. Nobody would be able to see my window, that was for sure.
Good thing I wasn’t trying to catch any attention, or escape.
I wondered how long I’d be stuck here. Considering I hadn’t really slept in nearly twenty-four hours, being locked up long enough for a nap sounded pretty good. I flopped down on the couch and closed my eyes.
Bliss.
I don’t know how long I’d been out when the sound of a car back-firing woke me. I took a minute to orient myself, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and wiping off what felt suspiciously like a trail of drool.
Sexy.
The light had changed—now it streamed through the window much more brightly. I rose to my knees and looked down through the leaded glass to find Em sunning herself on a white blanket in the center of the lawn. She wore a bright red bikini that showe
d off a very small, very cute baby bump, and one arm had been thrown over her eyes.
The girl was obviously sound asleep. Early pregnancy. I hadn’t had children myself, but I’d seen enough of my friends go through it to learn that sometimes naps weren’t optional. Such a pretty girl.
God, I hoped I got my own pretty girl back, safe and sound.
Reese was a lucky man, because while I hadn’t met his other daughter yet, Em was a treasure for sure. He’d done a great job with her despite losing his wife so tragically. As I watched, Em shifted restlessly and rolled to the side, dropping her arm down to clutch her stomach. Her face twisted, but she didn’t seem to wake up.
Oh, fuck.
Something was very, very wrong here …
Bright red blood covered the blanket where she’d been lying—blood that seemed to be coming from between her legs. She must not be asleep, but unconscious. Blood smeared the backs of her thighs. Adrenaline hit, and I ran for the door, jerking at the knob desperately. Nothing. I pounded on it, yelling for someone to come and get me.
Nobody responded.
The walls were old and thick, built by hand to last.
ShitShitShitShitShit! Em might be dying out there, and obviously nobody could see it but me. I had to do something.
Running back to the window, I climbed up onto the couch and peered through the glass, trying to figure out how to get down to her. Nothing really jumped out at me, but maybe I’d be able to figure something out if I broke out the glass. I found an old, broken stool propped against a pile of boxes and grabbed it, shoving the legs through the glass. It shattered easily enough, and after three more blows I managed to knock the leading out, too.
Pulling off my leather jacket, I laid it down across the windowsill to protect my hands from glass shards, then leaned out to take a good look around. In the movie version of my life, this was where I’d find a convenient tree branch, or maybe an old trellis to serve as a ladder.
Nada.
I did see a great big shrub right below the window, though. Maybe if I climbed out I could lower myself to shorten the fall, then jump into the bushes to cushion myself? A quick glance at Em showed the pool of blood spreading slowly but steadily.
Shrubbery it was, then.
I climbed out and caught the sill with my hands. That’s when the first thing went wrong, because instead of lowering myself down carefully, I fell off the ledge with a thump. The second thing to go wrong was the shrub itself, which had seemed rather lush and cushiony from the window.
Not so much.
I’d fallen into a forest of pointy branches, cutting through me like a thousand tiny, sharpened stakes. My right arm screamed in agony, and I looked down to see a quarter inch stick passing right through the fleshy part of my forearm. My vision blackened, and I took a couple of deep breaths, willing myself to hold it together.
Em needed me.
Painfully, I pulled my arm off the stick, ignoring the gush of blood as I shoved my way out of the bushes. My entire body was covered in smaller scratches and cuts, and I felt something warm and wet trickling down my face. At least nothing seemed to be broken.
I ran across the yard toward Reese’s bleeding daughter, dropping to my knees to check her pulse. There, but very weak. Fuck. I saw a phone lying in the grass next to a bottle of water. A real phone, the kind that’s connected to a landline. Thank God for that, because I didn’t have an address to give them.
I grabbed it and dialed 911 frantically, praying it wasn’t too late.
REESE
“Burke will meet us in Cali,” Hunter said. “They went down to scope out targets already. Shade and his boys will be flying in this evening, and the Silver Bastards are headed south, too. Between them and our local allies, we should have close to three hundred men.”
“What’s scary is not even that many guys are enough to stand up to the cartel head-on,” Horse grunted.
“Their soldiers are disposable,” I said. “Ours aren’t. We know what we’re doin’ and we can trust each other. Combine that with the fact that we aren’t giving ’em the chance to meet us head-on, I think it’ll be enough.”
“So we’re wheels up just after ten tonight,” Hunter said. “It’s a cargo plane, and things are all smoothed out with the shipping company. The pilot’s a friend of mine and he’s solid. When we land, we’ll have brothers there to meet us and we’ll bring our own hardware. Sound good to everyone?”
The room filled with grunts and nods of approval.
“Thanks for settin’ all of this up,” I told him.
“No prob,” Hunter replied, glancing toward the man sitting next to him, who rolled his eyes. “I made Skid do most of the work, anyway. I suppose now it’s time to talk about your woman?”
“It’s complicated,” I admitted. “Not sure what to do. Long story short, she got manipulated by the cartel. Nate Evans may or may not have planned to set her up, but when the opportunity showed itself, he took it. Guess he was fuckin’ her cousin—the one who lived with her—and probably filling her head with all kinds of bullshit. Then he gave her money to run off down south, where the kid’s mom happens to be shacked up with Gerardo Medina.”
Hunter gave a low whistle.
“Damn, bitch aims high.”
“No shit,” I agreed. “Now he’s livin’ the high life while his wife stays tucked away in Mexico. Anyway, when Jess went down, Medina took her and used her to control London. Guess they cut off the girl’s finger while she watched, and London lost it. We knew somethin’ was up, so we put a man on her, and some cameras out at my place. Then shit escalated and Puck found a loaded gun in her purse. He took her ammo and gave me a heads-up. We waited until she made her move before we took her down. Wanted to see how far she’d go.”
Silence filled the room.
“Any particular reason she’s still alive?” Hunter finally asked.
“She didn’t want to do it,” Gage said, his voice thoughtful. “She hates that fucker Evans more than we do, which is sayin’ somethin’. Went after him with a two-by-four. Says she wants to help us take down the cartel, and she’s definitely got the motivation. We’re the only shot she has to save the kid at this point.”
Hunter smirked at me, and I saw the mocking laughter in his eyes. He knew I’d fallen for her, I knew I’d fallen for her, and now I had to kill her or look weak in the eyes of the Devil’s Jacks.
Goddammit.
The wail of sirens filled the air, and I cocked my head. The walls in here were solid as fuck—hearing them so loud meant they had to be close. Cops? Shit. We had two goddamned prisoners in this barn, and about a hundred guns of one kind or another.
Not good.
Puck burst into the room, and for once he wasn’t calm and collected.
“You guys gotta get down here, fast,” he said. “Pic, your daughter’s in the backyard and I think she’s bleedin’ out. London’s with her, guess she called the ambulance. We got EMTs and firefighters all over the place.”
Hunter almost knocked me over, he was out of the room so fast. I was on his heels, tearing down the stairs and out into the backyard.
Oh, shit, Heather murmured in my head. That’s our baby …
What I saw nearly killed me.
It’s probably no surprise to hear I’ve ended more than one person’s life—I had a pretty good idea what it looked like when someone lost too much blood to live. That much blood and more coated Em’s lower body, and the blanket she’d been lying on was soaked with it, too.
Hunter stood over her—frozen—as two EMTs worked frantically.
London stood to the side, her eyes full of despair. A distant part of me noted that she was covered in blood, too. It ran down her head and into her face. It even dripped off her arms—looked like her clothes had been … shredded?
Fucked-up shit, and my baby girl was in the middle of it.
For an instant I was almost thankful Heather was dead, because if she was still here, she’d tear the skin right off my b
ody for letting this happen. Whatever the hell this was. Looked like the blood was comin’ from between Em’s legs, and that was a bad fuckin’ sign for my grandbaby.
I’m so goddamned sorry, Heather.
Hunter turned on London, grabbing her arms and shaking her violently.
“What the fuck did you do to her? I’ll fucking kill you for this, bitch!”
Skid, Gage, and Horse leapt into action, pulling him off and dragging him halfway across the lawn before the cop had time to do much more than blink.
“What’s going on?” I asked one of the EMTs, my stomach sinking. I’d never dreamed London could be a threat to Em—was she behind this? Fuck. What the hell had I done, bringing her here?
“Looks like a miscarriage,” the man said, catching my eyes. “You a family member?”
“I’m her dad.”
“You need to follow us to the hospital,” he said. “This is serious—she’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t know what the hell’s going on around here, but time to cut the drama because your kid needs you. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Christ. I hated this helpless feeling. It took forever for them to load Em—looked like she was dying, and there wasn’t a fuckin’ thing I could do to help. Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of the firefighters checking out London. She didn’t look so good, either. I glanced up at the carriage house, finding the remains of the second-story window. She’d obviously smashed it out and then dropped down into the bushes. There were broken leaves and sticks everywhere.
Fuck.
“That woman saved your daughter’s life,” the cop said, coming to stand next to me. He obviously recognized my colors, but he didn’t seem intimidated. “She jumped out the window and called nine one one. You wanna explain to me why someone would have to break out of a second-story room to get help, instead of using the stairs?”
“No idea,” I said. They were loading Em into the ambulance. Shit. I needed to follow them.
“Take care of your kid,” the cop said. “Don’t worry about the other victim. I’ll make sure she gets to the hospital and stays safe.”