GRIT: A Spartan Riders Novel

by J.C. Valentine

  So where the hell was she?

  Every second she remained missing was another knot in his stomach and a chain around his heart. He had been prepared to give her—the first woman he’d ever considered for the role without reservation—his patch. If he found out that she simply left him high and dry…

  No, he couldn’t think that way. She wanted him. Hell, she might even love him. He was, after all, a loveable guy. He knew she had reservations about their relationship, but she’d never given him any indication that she was about to call it off. Quite the opposite, in fact. So he wasn’t even going to consider the possibility of her leaving him willingly. She had to have been taken against her will. It was the only explanation he could stomach entertaining, and even that had him dancing the knife’s edge of nausea.

  The only thing he knew for certain was that if Ricky Cruiz was behind this, then God help him, because Blake was going to flay him alive.

  Blake’s head lifted and he looked toward the door to the room the club reserved for church to see Ash running in. Without pause, he leapt into Blake’s lap and looked up at him with the same slate gray eyes Blake saw in the mirror every morning.

  “What’s up, buddy? You having fun out there with Ginger?”

  He shrugged. “She’s okay. When can we leave? I want to show Gabby I learned a new game. I’m really good, too, Daddy. No way she’s going to beat me. I’m going to demolish her!”

  Blake’s smile was strained. Ruffling his hair, he said, “I’m sure you will.” Recalling his promise to himself that he’d never lie to his son, he steeled himself for a dose of cold, hard truth. “Daddy still has some work to do here, and then we’ll go home.”

  “Is Gabby waiting for us there?”

  “Maybe.” Okay, so maybe he wasn’t so much telling him the truth as he was beating around it. Or avoiding it completely. He just couldn’t bring himself to burst the kid’s bubble. Or his own, if he was being perfectly honest. It just felt like if he said out loud that she was gone, it would make it true.

  One way or another, he was going to make sure she came back. He just couldn’t stand sitting idle. He wanted to be out there doing something! But Country and Repo had insisted on him staying behind, keeping watch over the clubhouse in case Cruiz decided to send some men in while they were away. Their concern was sound, so against his better judgement, he’d stayed. Didn’t mean he had to like it.

  “Can we order pizza tonight?”

  Blake forced himself to put on a smile. “Sure thing, kid. Pepperoni?”

  “With extra cheese!”

  “Is there any other kind?”

  Ash gave him a look as if to say duh! then hopped down from his lap. “I’m going to get another smoothie. Ginger makes super good ones. Even better than McDonald’s.”

  Blake lifted his brows. “Wow, that’s pretty good.”

  “Maybe you should ask her to make you one too. I bet she would, since all she keeps talking about is how nice you are.” He made a sound of exasperation, rolling his eyes. Then, pursing his lips, Ash appeared to think hard before finally lifting his gaze again. “I think she likes you, Daddy, but I like Gabby best, so I think you should let her down easy.”

  Blake struggled to keep a straight face. “You got it, buddy. Hey, hold up a sec.” Ash’s body swayed in an effort to stop his quick feet. “Make sure you wash your hands before you get that smoothie.”

  Ash’s expression pinched. “But it’s a smoothie. I’m not even gonna touch it.”

  “Does it have more than one ingredient?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does it fill your belly?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then it’s food. Now go wash your hands.”

  Hanging his head, he said, “Fine, I’ll go wash ‘em. But I’m only using one squirt of soap.”

  Blake nodded, expression even. “Fair enough, kid.” As a parent, it was all about learning when to pick his battles. He just couldn’t, in good faith, let him touch anything when questions still surrounded those game pieces though.

  Once Ash left the room—grumbling every step of the way—Blake slumped back in his chair, watching the door he’d disappeared through. That kid was his world, his reason for living, and he never ceased to amaze him. He was just so intuitive for his age, and mature too. It made him damn proud. Made him wonder how something so amazing could have come from him. No doubt, if he wanted it, he’d make the Spartans a good president someday.

  As he watched Ash hop onto a barstool through the open door, Blake reflected on what he’d said about Ginger. They had history, Blake and her. Lost his virginity to her. She was a good woman, kind and loyal, a friend to everyone. He liked her, always had. But he’d known from the start he wasn’t interested in more than a quick lay. He was too young, still looking to sow his wild oats, and she had old lady written all over her, even back then.

  He studied her now, moving behind the bar fixing up a smoothie for his kid, and could easily picture her being a mother herself. She’d be good at it. Just like she’d make someone a good wife. Just not to him. As if she felt his gaze on her, Ginger looked up and a shy smile turned her candy apple painted lips up. He didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that if she had it her way, she’d be wearing his patch. She wasn’t getting any younger, that’s for sure. But he knew, after meeting Gabby, he would never settle for a sure thing. He wanted more than a relationship based on mutual respect. He wanted that passion, that fire that he got whenever he touched Gabby.

  Ginger could never be that for him.

  His thoughts turned to his VP, Garrick Stone. Ever since Blake had been a tot running around in diapers, he’d been fond of Repo. The man had been a mentor in many ways, guiding him through his presidency after his father passed. He had nearly twenty years on Blake and just a couple less than that on Ginger, but he’d seen the look in the man’s eyes lately whenever he saw her.

  All anyone had to do was take one look at the man to know that he was done for. He’d do anything, kill anyone for a chance to have her in his bed.

  If only she would recognize that Blake was a lost cause as far as she and him were concerned, maybe she’d see what was standing right in front of her.

  Commotion at the front of the compound brought Blake out of his chair. Rounding the table, he planted himself in the doorway, watching a couple prospects who’d been out helping in the search stride toward him with purpose.

  Blake stepped back into the room and waited for them to enter before closing them in for privacy. “What you got?”

  Tanner, the longest running prospect they had and the closest to getting patched in, spoke first. “Country and Repo staked out a spot down by that pole barn off two-eighty. Said they got eyes on your woman.”

  Pure, white hot fury blistered his veins. “Fucking hell!” he shouted, feeling as if the top of his head might blow right off. He was right. That bastard Cruiz was behind it, but he’d made a fatal error in taking his woman, because now he had to deal with Blake. Raw determination surged through him, and Blake grabbed his jacket, prepared to shrug it on before Tanner lifted his hand to stop him.

  “He said to tell you to stay put and wait for his call. They got everything handled, so long as they don’t get outside interference. He said one wrong move, and everything would go sideways. So he wants everyone to stay on alert, ready to go in case that happens.”

  Blake thought of the several armed guards they’d spotted on those grounds and how expansive the estate was. No doubt, with the size of that operation, what they’d seen was only the tip of the iceberg. As much as he wanted to run in, guns blazing, he had to stay calm, think logically. He knew Country was right. They needed to approach this with a level head. Simple was better.

  So long as shit didn’t go sideways.

  And it could, fast. Which was why they needed backup.

  Clenching his jaw, Blake pinned Tanner and Fish, the other prospect, with a hard stare. “I’m not taking any chances. Country wants space, we’l
l give him space. But if things go south, I want men on the ground, ready at a moment’s notice. Get ahold of the others, tell them to get ready. We’re riding out to the property, but we need to stay back, hidden. About a half-mile down the road should be good. If Country or Repo call for backup, we can be there in minutes.”

  “I’m sorry, Prez, but you intending to tag along?”

  Blake’s hands fisted at his sides. He didn’t like to be questioned. He knew where Tucker and Garrick wanted him, and he valued their insight, but he was not about to continue sitting on his hands when he could offer so much more. Not when it was his woman whose life was in danger.

  His words steady but clipped, he said, “You bet your ass I’m going.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Could she have been any stupider? When Gabby left Blake that morning, she’d been on a mission to get as far away as possible, all for the express reason of keeping those she cared about out of harm’s way.

  Now she was smack dab in the thick of it, wishing she would have stayed put. If she’d asked Blake for his help, she might not be here now, tied to a chair in the middle of a brightly lit...barn stall?...wondering if and when she was going to breathe her last.

  The smell of straw tickled her nose, making her want to sneeze. The gun aimed at her forehead kept her from moving an inch.

  “You know,” she told the giant of a man who didn’t appear to speak a word of English, “you could just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. It’d be our little secret.”

  His dull, lifeless gaze stayed fixed on her, unblinking. He didn’t even grunt in response, making her wonder if he was deaf too. But she knew he wasn’t. She’d heard him speak earlier, when she was brought in by the rough and tumble one with the missing tooth—a tooth she’d helped to relieve him of when he’d abducted her.

  Man, she never should have gone to see Shane. She should have known that if she’d been found, he likely had been too. Just her luck that they’d been there when she’d shown up. Probably lying in wait. She’d wanted to warn Shane and tell him goodbye. She couldn’t, in good conscious, leave without doing that much. And now she was paying dearly for it.

  She’d known the moment she stepped foot in his room and he’d given her those wide, fearful eyes that she’d made a huge mistake. Being in a place surrounded by people, she lingered, trying to come up with a plan of escape. Fifteen minutes later, she signed out, her only plan to make a run for her car and get the hell out of there.

  She’d gotten as far as the driver’s seat, the key in the ignition, before she realized she’d forgotten the number one rule of driving her parents had taught her: always check the backseat.

  She had only a few seconds to process the error as she stared into those blank, charcoal colored eyes in her rearview mirror, before the cloth covering her mouth and nose pulled her under.

  Now she stared into a similar set of eyes trying to think up things to say that might earn her freedom back, but she knew in her core that her days of running were over.

  Any minute now, she’d come face to face with that horrible man who’d left her for dead, and he’d demand to know where his money was before finishing the job.

  She was conflicted over what to tell him. Anything she said, no matter what it was, would likely end in her demise anyway.

  At the moment, her fight or flight instincts were in full effect, but she was bound to a chair with a gun to her head, so she wasn’t going anywhere.

  For a brief moment, she allowed herself to think about her family, her job, the children in her classroom, and especially Blake and Ash, who’d shaken up her life and brought so much joy to her world in the short time they’d been together. She’d taken it all for granted, thinking she could go on and live her life as if they’d never touched it. Now she knew better. There was no life without them. They gave her everything she hadn’t known she was missing. What she wouldn’t give to see their faces again, to be back in their arms.

  Gabby shook the damaging thoughts away. What was the point in reflection when there was no hope of repairing the damage she’d already caused?

  The sound of boots, heavy on the packed-dirt floor, made it to her ears just seconds before the face she’d been dreading to see appeared around the corner. The as-yet-nameless man’s face was alight with humor as he entered the stall. Two men, also carrying guns, followed in behind him. Last but not least, Blake’s ex, Jodi, entered.

  Stepping back to lean against the stall wall, Jodi kept silent, letting her hateful smirk do all the talking. Gabby spared her a brief glance, then refused to give her the time of day or the satisfaction of seeing her shock and dismay.

  Had Jodi been the one to lead him to her? If so, then she was even more cunning than she and Blake had given her credit for.

  Clasping his hands in front of him, the man she feared most regarded her, his eyes dancing with mirth. “I must say, you did a fantastic job running from me, Gabriella Morgan.” The way her name slithered off his tongue made Gabby shiver.

  “Yeah? What gave me away?” She was trying her best to keep her chin up, to present a false air of bravado so he didn’t know she was two seconds away from pissing herself, but something told her he saw straight through her façade.

  “Ah.” Dipping his head, he re-clasped his hands behind his back and took three steps left, pivoted, then three steps right. He repeated the march a few times before coming to a stop directly above her, literally looking down his nose at her. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about people, it’s that they’re very much like animals. When they’re running scared, give them enough space, and eventually they’ll grow complacent. Let down their guard a little, then a little more.” Bending at the waist, he brought his face down in front of hers, close enough to smell the cigar smoke on his breath. He hissed, “And a little more.”

  Gabby’s stomach flipped, dread consuming her.

  Snapping upright, he started his march again. One, two, three. Pivot. One, two, three. Pivot. “You let down your guard, Gabriella. After that, it was so easy. I had my men looking for you from day one, just waiting for you to slip up. And then you did.” He bore his teeth in a sinister smile. “Elementary school teacher. How quaint. And most unpredictable. Most people who run from me take on odd jobs, try to stay under the radar. But not you! Oh, no, not you. School teacher,” he repeated. “Admirable, if not stupid. Getting into bed with my enemy? Even stupider. You practically jumped into my lap.” Crouching down in front of her, his expression softening, he reached up and fingered a lock of her hair almost tenderly. “Tell me, Gabriella, is that what you wanted? Were you hoping I’d find you?”

  She wanted to kick him right in his evil face, but the rope around her ankles rendered her completely immobile. So she did the next best thing. Inhaling deep, she loosed a giant wad of spit into his right eye.

  “Hijo de puta! You bitch!” Jolting to his feet, he cursed roundly and so viciously, Gabby instantly regretted it. His arm swung out, connecting with the side of her face. But the pain in her cheek was the least of her worries. What would he do to her now? She didn’t imagine men like him allowed so vile an act to go unanswered.

  One of the men handed off a handkerchief and she watched through bleary eyes with fear in her heart as he wiped her spit away. When he was through, he leveled her with the most hate filled, vengeful look she’d ever witnessed. If the devil truly existed, surely he was standing before her now.

  Finding her voice, she asked, “Who are you? Why are you doing this?” If she was going to die, she at least wanted to know why and at whose hands.

  “I find it difficult to believe you don’t know who I am. Everyone who sits before me knows who I am.” Keeping her expression even, she stared him down until his eyes narrowed to puzzled slits. “My name is Ricky Cruiz.”

  She shrugged, letting him know that it meant nothing to her. She half expected him to start shouting his irritation, since his name clearly didn’t have the far-reaching ability he assumed it had, but he only
nodded and turned his back on her. Approaching one of the men guarding the stall door, he did something—an exchange perhaps—out of her line of sight. “No matter. You know who I am now, and I guarantee you’ll never forget me. So, back to business. I told you before, Gabriella, I want what I’m owed.”

  “Money?” she questioned. “I already told you I don’t know where it is. I never did. If anything, it should be Shane sitting here, not me.”

  “Liar,” Jodi muttered.

  Ricky Cruiz shot a warning look, shutting her up. Slowly, his head turned back around to resume whatever he was doing, and he picked up the conversation where she’d left off. “If only Shane could sit, maybe he would be. But I have no use for a man who needs another’s hands to wipe his ass.”

  “That’s your fault.”

  He grinned over his shoulder. “Indeed. Some of my best handiwork, to be sure. Now, tell me, Gabriella, before we get started, are you certain you don’t know where my money is? And before you say anything, know that I can spot a liar a hundred yards away.”

  When she opened her mouth to reply in kind, he turned to face her, and what Gabby saw in his hand rendered her speechless.

  A knife, like something a person might use to cut apart carpet—curved like a backward C and tarnished to a nearly black patina—took center stage as he approached her. Holding it aloft, he turned it back and forth in the light, admiring it.

  “I don’t know where it is.” Her voice trembled, and one of his thick brows arched menacingly. He tsked, turning her stomach to stone. Jodi continued to watch from the sidelines, smirking.