by Naomi West
“I’m aware of that,” said the nurse, her voice mildly edged. “That hardly stops a lot of girls from going back.
“Well, she didn’t.” Chopper felt an unfair resentment swell in his chest. It wasn’t the nurse’s fault that Kelsey had done a runner on him. She knew nothing about either of them, only that Kelsey was currently her patient. “Is she in trouble for this?” he asked.
The nurse just shrugged. “We’re not allowed to keep her if she doesn’t want to stay. I wish she would have at least let someone look at her one last time, but if she just wanted to get out, then …” She trailed off.
“What condition was she in?” Chopper tried not to imagine Kelsey, distraught and no longer pregnant, wandering the city alone in the dead of night. He doubted she was even dressed properly; the seasons were changing, and now the night wind had a bite.
“Generally, she was fine.” The nurse looked down at the chart on her clipboard. “I can’t tell you the details of her procedure, but it was routine. She is expected to make a full physical recovery.”
“But she ran.” Chopper went to the window and looked out on the lot. The high, bright lights dotted the asphalt with white pools of illumination. He could barely see into the shadows.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the nurse said softly. She paused, as if she was trying to think of the right words to say. Finding nothing else, she said, “I hope you find her,” before she turned and disappeared into the back to tend to other patients. Chopper didn’t look after her. He walked out the entrance into the lot, his eyes searching the dark corners for any sign of her.
“Kelsey?” he called hesitantly. “Kels, where are you?”
No answer. He supposed it was foolish to think she might have stayed around the lot, but that depended on when she had left, which he didn’t know for sure. He decided to spend some time combing the lot, just to be sure. He felt like he had taken too many chances lately, and not a single one had paid off. He walked to the corner to give himself a starting point and began his search in the same way he used to search for missing Outlaws: slowly, methodically, and relentlessly. Chopper didn’t care if he was out all night, or if he never slept again. All he wanted was to find Kelsey.
His phone rang minutes later as he stood beneath one of the lights. The number came across his screen as restricted, but he answered anyway. As soon as the line was connected, the caller initiated video, and Chopper was treated to a view of the barren inside of a warehouse. The dim illumination of a few bare light bulbs showed him the vague outline of an occupied chair, and as the person holding the phone began to walk closer, Chopper recognized Kelsey’s shoes and jeans.
“Who is this?” he demanded. “What the fuck?” The camera began to pan slowly up Kelsey’s body in an infuriatingly suggestive way, though he was relieved to see that she was fully clothed. Her arms were bent behind her, around the back of the chair, and her head lolled heavily to one side. She was clearly unconscious, but alive.
The video cut out. An instant later, Spike Lawler spoke into Chopper’s ear. “So, what do you say?” His voice was smooth and smug. “I think we could make a deal.”
Chopper snarled. “Where are you? If we’re doing this, it will be face to face.”
“Glad we’re on the same page,” Spike said. “Come to the warehouse by the fishing docks. It’s Mongol territory but don’t feel the need to watch your step. I already told them you’d be good.”
“Told who?” Chopper didn’t like to be played for a fool, and he suspected that that was exactly what Spike was trying to do.
“You’ll see, Slater. Just get here. I’m as ready to finish this as you are.”
Chopper didn’t like the sound of that, but he had little choice. “Fine.” As he pocketed his phone and ran for his bike, it occurred to him over and over that this might be another trap, and he knew he didn’t care. If there was a chance he could get Kelsey and make things right, he’d try anything.
Chapter Eighteen
Kelsey
The first thing she noticed was the smell seeping into her nostrils — a vague but persistent stench of fish and salt. Kelsey opened her eyes slowly. Her neck was stiff and so were her shoulders, and when she tried to rub them, she found that her hands were bound. The light in the room was dim, but as her eyes adjusted, she noticed that the room around her was strangely empty except for some long metal tables with a few boxes underneath. She shifted in her chair. Her feet were tied too. As the reality of her situation sank in, Kelsey’s heart began to pound. She searched her memory for an answer, but found only fog. She’d been walking out of the hospital parking lot, and then what?
The chair, a metal folding type, was cold against her skin. At some point, someone had stripped her of every piece of clothing except her underthings. She stared for a moment at the plain of her stomach, already so much flatter than it had been not-so-long before. If nothing else, she remembered losing the baby. She remembered sneaking out of her hospital room. But after that, she didn’t know. She pulled at the restraints on her wrists to see if she could maybe work herself free, but the rope was rough, and it chafed at her skin. She shivered. It was so cold … was the place abandoned? Had she been left alone in there?
Her questions were answered when she heard footsteps drawing closer, echoing through the high, empty spaces. The door at the other end of the room unlocked and swung open. She recognized the figure even before it drew close. Kelsey’s face set into a stony frown. Of course, it was Spike who had kidnapped her. And of course, he had taken off her clothes.
Pig, she thought savagely. If she hadn’t been convinced he was out to hurt her, she might have spat on him.
“Hello, darling,” he said, smirking. He towered over her, his lean frame almost spidery. She thought he must have lost weight in the months since her departure; his face had gone from lean to gaunt, and there was a creepy, skeletal quality to his limbs. When he stretched out his fingers to touch her face, his knuckles bulged under the skin. Kelsey wanted to shrink away from his touch, but she couldn’t bring herself to give him the satisfaction of her discomfort. Instead, she stared defiantly into his face.
“You’re looking as lovely as ever.” He gave her a lingering once-over. The sensation of his gaze on her skin made her want to vomit. “It’s too bad we had to meet this way. I was hoping it could be under better circumstances.”
Kelsey rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. You never gave a shit about me.” She’d meant to sound cool and dismissive, but whatever drugs she’d been given had made her tongue thick. The words slurred coming out of her mouth. Spike laughed.
“I haven’t heard you sound like that in months,” he remarked, leaning down close to her face. He smelled like sweat and grease and cigarette smoke. Kelsey felt her gag reflect threatening again. She clenched her jaw, refusing to flinch. “We had some good nights, didn’t we, Kelsey?” he asked. “But you decided to throw everything away.”
Kelsey moved her tongue in her mouth, hoping that exercise would give her slightly better control. “Actually, I didn’t,” she said. “I was kidnapped back then too, remember? Kind of like right now, except Chopper didn’t throw me into a freezing empty building.”
Again, Spike laughed, and this time the sound was edged with bitterness. “Ah, yes. Chopper Slater is quite the gentleman, isn’t he? That why you decided to stay with the Outlaws?” He began to circle her like a hungry tiger. Kelsey knew she would have to watch her words very carefully from that point forward.
She cleared her throat. “You never gave me a choice,” she said evenly. “You never came to get me.”
“You’re a big girl. Can’t you take care of yourself?”
“Not when I’m used to being someone’s spoiled old lady.” The words sounded utterly ridiculous to Kelsey’s ears, but she knew they would strike a chord of truth within Spike Lawler’s chauvinistic world view. He always treated her like a prize instead of a human being, a delicate, fragile thing who was too weak and stupid to ever get along
in the world without him. He had used her to validate his own sense of self-worth, and she knew he would believe it had worked so well that now she was totally lost without an alpha male to guide her.
“True,” he said. “But you didn’t even try to get back. Chopper kept you, and you let him.” A hint of petulant jealousy crept into his voice. Kelsey was hit by a wave of repulsion to think she’d ever allowed herself to be subjected to the every whim of this man-child. All of this was just to spite Chopper, and to punish her for her desertion.
Anger swelled within her. Spike couldn’t know exactly what she’d been through in the past few days, but she blamed him for it anyway. He had known she was pregnant when she left, and he had thought the child was his. That didn’t seem to matter to him.
“What was I supposed to do?” she demanded sharply. The residual effects of the drugs were starting to wear off. Her mind was clearing. “You think yours is the only gang that kills for insubordination? I had more than myself to think about, you know.”
He glanced at her stomach. She wondered if he could tell that things weren’t right, or even that she looked different than she had when he chased her down the street. She held her breath, anticipating her secret to be uncovered. But he only turned away from her, resuming his slow, menacing circle around the chair.
“Okay, okay,” he said. “I get it. It’s not your fault.” He passed behind her. “That leaves only Chopper to blame, which is fine by me. I guess you and I will just have to find a way to make him suffer.” Spike stepped closer, slid his finger underneath the strap of her bra, and snapped it smartly against her back. Kelsey bit her lip to keep from whimpering in pain. “Or,” Spike said, drawing out the word, “do you think he’d like to watch?”
“You’re disgusting,” she spat. “I hope he kills you.”
Spike’s laugh was hard. She could tell she’d made him angry. He came around to the front of the chair and caught her face in his clammy hand.
“A bitch like you doesn’t have no right to talk like that to me,” he growled. His civilized façade fell away, and with it, his polished language. “I’m the only reason you’re even here at all.” He jabbed a finger at her belly. “I’m the reason you got that baby in you.” Once again, he leaned close, and she could smell his rancid odor. “And I’m gonna get my respect any way I can.”
Kelsey pressed her lips together. When she had been Spike’s old lady and he’d been on top of the Mongol world, she might have been afraid of him. But through Chopper, she’d seen Spike Lawler get dismantled, torn down into the man who was standing before her now. He didn’t look dangerous — he just looked crazy. After months spent running with the Outlaws, it would take more than that to faze Kelsey. She pulled up a thick wad of spit and launched it into his face. It stuck to his cheek with a satisfying splat.
For an instant, Spike was too stunned to do anything except stare at her. She stared back, her eyes cold. Then he reared back and slapped her so hard her vision blurred. She rocked back in the chair.
“You think you’re so funny, you fucking bitch!” he bellowed. “I wanted to give you another chance. I’d hate to see such a beautiful woman go to waste. But, no.” He picked up her face, admiring his handiwork as it bloomed into a dark splotch across her cheekbone. “I’m gonna make sure I’m the last man you ever have. And when I’m done with you, you’re as good as dead.” With that, he turned and stalked out of the room, his heavy boots thunderous on the floor.
As soon as he was gone, Kelsey sat up straight, shaking the hair from her eyes. She tasted blood on the inside of her cheek, but her heart was full of triumph. No woman had ever spit in Spike Lawler’s face before; she was sure of it. That was a wound he hadn’t expected to feel. Maybe he had thought that he could sweet talk her back to his side of things, that he could convince her to team up with him against Chopper. Maybe he’d envisioned a future with her by his side at the head of the Mongols.
Kelsey had been told that before she knew Spike, he’d been notoriously fickle with his women, sometimes swapping them out every week. Yet, he was willing to pour enormous amounts of his resources into tracking her down. She didn’t know what it was that made her valuable, but she knew it gave her power. If she could hurt Spike even a little bit, then that would have to be her legacy. Because really, even if Chopper did turn up, why would he save her now? She had done so much to hurt him. The best she could hope for was to be pardoned after it was all over.
Her face began to throb slowly, in time with the beating of her heart. Kelsey let her head fall forward onto her chest and closed her eyes. She saw, in the darkness behind her eyelids, the expression of shock on Spike Lawler’s face just before it exploded into rage.
She smiled.
Chapter Nineteen
Chopper
The fishing docks were way across town on the coast of the bay, a good thirty-minute ride if he went at a normal pace. Chopper thought he could make it in fifteen if he really tried, but he knew it would be more like twenty. What with the raids, the shootings, and the firebombs, he couldn’t afford to be pulled over by the cops on his way. Kelsey needed him now more than ever. Still, he let his foot rest heavy on the gas as he sped down the highway, cruising at eighty in the left lane.
The time was coming up on eleven now. He resolved to have his girl in his arms by midnight, no matter what Spike had to say about it. Chopper reached into his jacket and felt the comforting weight of his handgun in its holster. He was more than ready to use it if he had to.
His headlamp drenched the road in pale but unrelenting light, and the sight of the road opening up before him soothed Chopper’s raw nerves, as it always did. The road, the steady sound of his engine, the feel of the wind on his hair and face — those were the things that had led Chopper to choose life as an Outlaw, more than anything else. Even now, when he was up to his neck in blood money and drugs, Chopper knew that the bikes themselves were his real passion. Sure, he’d been seduced by wealth and power. But he’d also been able to live his dream with Bike Out of Hell. And he had found the love of his life in Kelsey. Chopper did not fear many things, but he was afraid of losing her. He inched the speedometer up to eighty-five, promising to keep an extra sharp eye out for hidden cops.
Halfway through the trip, the clouds slid over the moon and it began to rain, a light, cold mist on Chopper’s face and hands. He welcomed the water; as pumped as he was to finally confront Spike, his body was crying out for sleep, and the rain refreshed him. He focused his mind on Kelsey and felt sleep leaving his thoughts. It just wasn’t an option, not yet. Not until this was all over, one way or another. No matter how things turned out, Chopper thought wryly, he could sleep when he was dead.
Five miles out from his exit, the bay seemed to come up out of the darkness alongside the highway, and Chopper knew he was close. He tried not to think about what he might find when he turned up at the warehouse. He tried not to think about what Spike might already have done. Chopper knew damn well that Spike didn’t believe in promises, or in honoring codes of respect. He would lay hands on another man’s woman if he wanted to — and Chopper was pretty sure he wanted to. By the time he saw the sign for the off-ramp, he had crept up to 90. The wind howled in his ears like an animal. He could barely hear himself think, but maybe that was for the best.
After the mad dash of the highway, forty felt like a crawl. Chopper breezed down the gritty street leading to the docks, steering deftly around potholes the size of melons in the crumbling pavement. The waterfront hadn’t always been such a shitty part of town, but shifts in technology and business had rendered large parts of it obsolete. It was common knowledge that Spike Lawler set up shop in some of the derelict buildings. The cops could barely be persuaded to care that he was there. Chopper had no idea what he used these places for, if anything. Perhaps he had intended to store the profits of his drug trade there, or expand his operations. Thanks to Chopper, that would have to wait.
Chopper slowed to an actual crawl as he neared th
e warehouse Spike had specified on the phone. It was a huge, ramshackle thing that seemed better suited to the middle of a bleak field somewhere. The boards, unpainted, were weather-beaten and beginning to warp, their silhouette crooked against the night sky. Chopper parked his bike in the untended lot and walked toward the door. He kept his eyes peeled for any sign of an ambush; though Spike had sworn amnesty, Chopper knew he wouldn’t be a match for any group of Mongols at the moment. His adrenaline was the only thing keeping him solidly on track. That, and his love for Kelsey.
He’d expected the door to be locked or at least guarded, but to his surprise, it was neither. Chopper stepped through into the dim, cold confines of the warehouse and took a moment to let his eyes adjust. The bulbs he had seen in Spike’s brief video turned out to be very high above his head, such that the ground was still filled with shadows. He felt like he was walking through a strange and barren jungle. Each footstep echoed, unless he paid attention to exactly where he laid his feet. Instinctively, he placed his hand on his gun.