“They didn’t,” she agreed, her voice a raw tremble. “Who are you?”
“The guys who saved you.”
I tugged her along persistently. She was so damned pale and shaky and I let go of her only long enough to scoop her up into my arms. I stared at Bish and he knew what I wanted to ask. Instead, he told her, “There’s a doctor where we’re taking you.”
“They didn’t rape me,” she bit out. “But they would’ve.”
That last part was more question than anything and I nodded before settling her into the backseat behind us. Bish went back to the scene and I shut the door behind him and turned on a battery-powered fan to get the air moving.
“What’s going on?” she asked me.
Where to start? I grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to her, letting her break the seal so she wouldn’t think I was trying to drug her. She drank greedily and then said, “You don’t talk.”
I nodded.
“Can you hear at all or are you reading lips?”
I held up a finger to indicate the first and she looked at my throat like she was expecting to see a scar. Didn’t know if I was pulling her chain and I liked that she was suspicious.
At that moment, the back doors of the van opened and Bish dragged Charlie into the back of the van, already tied, gagged and unconscious, put him in a partition in the back where Jessa wouldn’t see him.
But she knew we hadn’t killed him. I wondered if she was grateful or angry.
She kept looking back toward where Bish had put Charlie.
“He’s alive,” Bish told her. “We didn’t hurt him. Much.”
“I wouldn’t care if you did.” She was so tightly wound, didn’t know if she was out of the frying pan and into the fire or not.
I told her, We won’t do what they threatened you with.
Bish took a moment before he translated, probably because he thought a constant state of fear was the best weapon. Fuck, Bish would’ve gone far in the pre-Chaos military or CIA. I didn’t even know if the latter existed to protect anymore or if spies were only out for themselves.
Kian would know. The new head of the Kill Devils was former CIA—he’d been kicked out pre-Chaos. But he was tight-mouthed. And although he and Caspar were on good terms, trusting another MC wasn’t the best idea.
Finally, Bish told her she’d be safe with us—she’d kept her eyes on mine the whole time she was waiting for Bish to translate. But even after he did, she wouldn’t relax, because she’d seen what we could do.
I’d seen what she could do too, and I should’ve handcuffed her to the door. But Bish and I were faster, so I let her sit there, her legs curled up to her chest, as Bish got into the passenger’s side and I drove away from the scene of the crime.
“What a fucking mess,” Bish muttered.
Yeah, and it’s going to get traced back to Defiance soon enough, I signed. Because even though there weren’t witnesses left—or anyone who’d seen us at the lake—Keller and the LoV knew we were in the area and that Defiance was more than capable of that level of violence.
Granted, Bish and I could save the club the problems this was going to bring them because we didn’t wear the Defiance cuts yet. It wouldn’t blow back on the MC. That was the only thing we had going for us at the moment. Whether we retained that advantage remained to be seen.
Since we hadn’t done this on behalf of Defiance, it meant that Caspar could easily hand us right over to Keller or the LoV to escape the inevitable retribution.
“He won’t do that,” Bish said. I’d been thinking out loud again, my hand flying as the other gripped the wheel.
Never know what someone will do to save their entire livelihood and the people who need him, I answered back. There wasn’t any anger in what I said—hell, Caspar’s MC fed and housed a lot of people, and to put that in jeopardy for two random hotheads who hadn’t bothered to agree to wear the club’s cuts yet...
Bish’s question to Jessa ripped me away from my worries.
“Why are you so important?” he asked her bluntly. But he knew—we both knew. The president’s son wasn’t easy to forget. Charlie Taylor had always been in the news—he dated movie stars and ran with a wild crowd. He was also being groomed for a life in politics and before the Chaos, any trouble he’d gotten into had been easily smoothed over, thanks to his family’s position and money. Since the Chaos, I hadn’t heard shit about him.
Jessa shrugged at Bish’s question but the fact that she was with the president’s son meant something.
Maybe she’s just a hanger-on, I signed. Maybe he picked her up before he got kidnapped. Then again, she was too pissed at him to have just met him. That kind of anger only comes after someone you’ve known for a long time betrays you.
“Love it when you argue with yourself,” Bish drawled, then signed to me, She’s the vice president’s daughter, when Jessa remained silent.
Shit. I didn’t glance back at her, clutched the wheel more firmly as the rain pounded the van. I didn’t know how Bish figured that one out, but it made sense. But how had the LoV gotten to them in their underground bunkers in D.C.? No matter how bad things were, the fact was they were supposed to be in bunkers, and more heavily guarded by military forces than anyone else. And not by just any military—Bish and I would never have been considered to go there.
Maybe we should just keep driving. Can’t lay this shit on Defiance’s doorstep, can we?
“Not sure we have another choice that’s as good.”
We had choices. You always did. It was just a matter of picking the best one in the moment.
In that moment, I chose the road that led to Defiance.
Chapter Three
I’ll take you down the only road I’ve ever been down
Jessa
I looked around the black van with the tinted windows and the heavy-duty-looking doors and knew it was bulletproof. I’d ridden in enough caravans to know. But those caravans had never driven this fast, gliding in the dark with a sleekness I hadn’t known was possible in such a large vehicle.
Of course, I had no idea where we were going, but since these two had killed all the men back there, they were in more trouble than I was.
Maybe.
I glanced over into the back, but I couldn’t see Charlie. Any guilt I might’ve had was quickly overcome when I thought of how he’d been so willing to throw me away. Six months of marriage reduced to a price.
He was going to sell you.
I couldn’t repeat it to myself enough, because I still had trouble believing it was true, and I was there to see it happen. But it had, unless I woke up tomorrow in my bed in the bunker, where the women tried to pretend that this was the real world, that everything was normal, that politics were still important. That the U.S.A. still had laws that people adhered to.
I knew too much and I’d keep my mouth shut and keep playing the victim, because I was one. And maybe, maybe, they’d turn us back over to Washington and play heroes.
I really didn’t want that to happen but I didn’t know what exactly to hope for—to ask for—at this point. So instead, I hugged my knees to my chest and I stared out the front window and I asked the simplest question I could. “Who are you?”
“I’m Bishop. He’s Mathias.”
Mathias, the dark-haired angel. I rolled his name around in my mind and kept my gaze forward. Thankfully, neither man turned back to look at me, but Mathias did make limited eye contact through the rearview mirror. I didn’t know if that was because he didn’t trust me not to turn around and free Charlie, but he didn’t have to worry. There was no way I’d help Charlie.
It was dark inside the back of the van, and that made me ultimately embrace it, letting it cover me like a warm blanket.
Charlie hadn’t moved at all. That didn’t mean he wasn’t aw
ake and I wondered what he’d say if I answered all the questions Mathias and Bishop asked.
He’d have you arrested. Which was better than him trying to sell me.
My belly was a tight knot, especially as I realized how close I’d been to being sold... “Who would that man have sold me to?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Bishop and Mathias kept their eyes straight ahead, but Mathias put a hand up and signed and, after a beat, Bishop translated. Keller typically sells the women he gets to the Albanian mafia. In Albania. Because you’re important...
“I’m going to be sick. Please pull over.”
They didn’t—not right away—and I held a hand over my mouth and tried to keep the bile down. These were suspicious men who no doubt thought I was trying to escape. “Please,” I managed and Mathias jerked the van to a stop.
I lunged for the door and Mathias was next to me, holding my hair and rubbing my back, a silent presence far stronger than any words could’ve been.
When I finished getting sick, he handed me a towel and water. He pulled the bottle from my lips when I started gulping. And finally, he handed me a piece of peppermint candy, the kind my grandmother used to keep in a dish on her dining room table. There were always butterscotch candies in there too, but the signature red-and-white candies were my favorites. Grandma always used to sneak them to me, then say, “You and me, Jessa, we’re so alike.”
We were, right down to our names. I thought about what she’d tell me now, how strong she’d had to be growing up and I knew that she was rooting for me. That she’d guide me, if I’d let her.
I’d never believed in that before, but I needed something to believe in out here, in the desolate world where everything I’d once known had changed. And even though I hadn’t liked my life before the Chaos, at least it had been the devil I knew.
Now, there were far too many devils and not enough angels. The man next to me was definitely a mix of both and my cheeks heated as I realized I’d been staring at him, studying him. He gave me a small grin, like he knew, like he was used to women staring at him that way, and I let him help me up off the dirt and back into the van.
Mathias finally unwrapped the candy for me and held it in front of my lips until I took it from him. The peppermint flooded my mouth, a comfort and a practicality for the nausea and the nasty taste in my mouth all at once. When he helped me back to the van, he put me into the passenger’s seat. Bishop was sitting where I’d been.
“Sitting up front makes you less carsick,” Bishop offered, even though we all knew that carsickness hadn’t been the only issue. But the more space I could put between me and Charlie, the better. I kept waiting for Mathias to tie my hands but he didn’t. When I drifted off to sleep, I thought maybe they’d drugged me with the water. The more likely culprit was the slow rock of the van, the radio, my head resting on the seat that was already in a perfect semi-reclined position.
For all I knew, these guys worked for my parents and were bringing me back to them. When I caught myself praying that wasn’t the case, I knew there were a lot of things I needed to figure out, and fast.
I woke, screaming and kicking. It only took a few moments to realize that I wasn’t gagged or in chains, the way I’d spent most of the past two weeks, at the LoV’s mercy.
Mathias was the first one to come into focus. He was signing to Bishop’s voice. You’re all right, Jessa. Take a breath.
I did. And I realized I was holding Mathias’s hand, his palm warm in mine. Holding it like we were lovers, like he was my lifeline, my fingers curled through his. I stared at our hands, fisted together, and I wondered if I’d ever understand any of this.
It’s a crazy time for everyone.
Bishop’s voice, Mathias’s free hand signing. I stared into Mathias’s dark eyes and I saw more understanding there than I ever had. “My grandmother would’ve reconsidered her stance on men for you.”
Bishop laughed—it had been a long time since I’d heard a real laugh—and he translated as Mathias signed, Grandmothers aren’t really my type, but I’m guessing there’s a compliment in there somewhere.
“Definitely.” I was flirting with the violent angel in leather. Flirting. After I’d thrown up in front of him. After everything, I still felt the taut butterfly nerves in my belly. And despite everything, I liked it.
He looked like the other bikers, thanks to his tattoos, and there was a leather jacket on the seat next to me, although it didn’t have the name of any biker club on the back of his jacket. Granted, he drove a van and not a bike, but he had that air about him. Less vengeful and outwardly cruel, but he hadn’t shied away from violence.
Neither had I. What was happening to me? Were two weeks enough to turn me from a pampered girl into a fighter, or had she always been there, waiting for the right time?
My grandmother liked to say that necessity was the mother of invention. Until this moment, I’d never truly understood what that meant.
Finally, Mathias clicked on the radio and slid a CD in and “Enter Sandman” came on, loud, pounding music surrounding us.
It was a song about exit lights and never-never land that was terrifying and poetic all at once. I realized how much I’d missed music, having been without it for the past weeks. I absorbed the beat as I watched Mathias’s long fingers play along the wheel, tapping and strumming like he was creating the music. Like he was singing with his hands. He wore several heavy-looking silver rings on each hand. I couldn’t make out all the designs but there was the obligatory skull and his long fingers, doing inappropriate, mesmerizing things to my nervous system.
Chapter Four
You’re a mystery, always runnin’ wild
Mathias
The storm came on faster than I’d anticipated—you’d think I’d have taken shit like storms coming up out of nowhere into consideration, and normally it wouldn’t matter. Bish and I would park, hunker down and wait it out. But we had the president’s son and the VP’s daughter and we couldn’t take chances with either of them, even if I was ready to throw Charlie out of the van to fend for himself.
I didn’t slow down. The van charged through the rain and hail and the only concession I made was to put on the headlights I rarely used. Bish was sitting up between the seats watching the road with me, my right hand, my second pair of eyes. Jessa was tense as fuck.
She’d held it together really well, but that shit wouldn’t last long. She’d started to get quiet, which meant she was thinking too much. Men were dangerous when they got quiet, but quiet women could be the kiss of death, like a bomb with no way to detonate, Bish used to say and I’d argue back that there were ways. It’s just that each one was different. Each woman came with her own set of rules.
“I don’t like rules,” Bish would reply. Now, all he said was, “You okay?” to Jessa, and only because I’d signed it to her first.
She gave a small nod, said, “I’m not used to this,” in a tight voice.
How anyone could’ve been so sheltered during what seemed like a mix of the apocalypse and the second coming of Christ, I had no idea. None. But her eyes were wide and it was like she’d never seen weather like this.
I switched on the radio again—I’d turned it down when the weather got nasty and now the Metallica CD that drove Bish crazy (and was practically embedded in there) came on full blast. She jumped for a second, but it gave her something else to concentrate on besides the way the van hydroplaned, thanks to the wind-and-water combo.
“Is this...normal?”
“Where have you been living?” Bish asked bluntly. I glared at him in the rearview and he shrugged.
“Underground. In a bunker,” she admitted. “I wasn’t allowed out much at all. These past couple of weeks have been eye opening.”
I tried to digest that. Couldn’t imagine not knowing what the Chaos had been all about,
but Jessa was from an entirely different world. Even though she’d held my hand and teased me about her grandmother, she was scared, maybe as much as she’d been with the LoV.
She’d seen what I was capable of. I rarely showed my hand so early to any woman. Most of the time, they only sensed what I could do when necessary.
Everyone wanted to be protected. Admitting it seemed to be the hard part for most people, which was something I never understood. There wasn’t any shame in wanting to feel safe. On the other hand, if I felt safe for too long, I got antsy. I needed the violence and danger the way others needed air and I’d certainly gotten more than my fair share in the past hour.
We’re close, I signed and Bish translated. Then I signed only to Bish, I’ll stay with her and Bish signed back, And I’ll do the dirty work with Caspar.
Caspar was the president of the MC, and he wasn’t going to be happy about the visitors we were bringing inside. If it wasn’t storming, we’d have been explaining it to him at the gates. So actually, I’d never been more grateful for a storm in my life, since it would buy us more time. If we were lucky, evidence of the burned bodies would be washed away. Bish had rolled the cars and the bikes into the lake, and with the added wind, they might sink or get pushed farther downstream. Eventually, the LoV and mafia would miss their people, but for now, we’d made it here, barely beating the start of the worst of the hail.
Now, I pulled the van through the gate using the remote code. The guards had already taken cover underground, watching us through the camera feed. Once I got to the warehouse, where I’d park, Bish got out and opened the doors for me to drive through, and I saw how hard it was for him to hold them back against the wind. I pulled in quickly and he shut the doors behind him with a loud bang. The wind buffeted the reinforced metal and Jessa hugged herself.
The warehouse was massive. The main floor was a giant maze of rooms off the large open parking garage where the cars and bikes were worked on as well as stored during storms. There was also a basement, which led to offshoots of the tubing systems. Charlie would be locked in here with us, but several soundproofed, windowless rooms over from where I’d stay with Jessa in the garage.
Redemption: A Defiance Novel Page 3