Through The Weeds (Nightshade MC Book 2)

by Shannon Flagg

  Cold fear spread through Caroline because she didn't have access to the accounts, not unless Buster was dead and there was a death certificate to show his lawyer. “You're wrong, Jake. I don't have access to anything.”

  Jake sighed. “Just to be clear, I'm counting that as you refusing to help me.” He stepped forward and kicked Jillian in the side. There was an audible crack, and Jillian let out an inhuman scream. “Think I broke a rib. Wonder if I can break two the next time. Now, I'm going to ask you again. And before you think of simply trying to shoot me, I have seven men outside. The majority of them have spent time behind bars recently and, to put it simply, they're pretty horny. They have orders that if something happens to me, they get the three of you as a reward for their hard work thus far.”

  Caroline looked down at Jillian. For a moment, she thought her friend was already dead, but then her chest moved ever so slightly. “The only way that I get to touch the money is if Buster is dead.”

  “Trust me, Sweetheart. He's dead.”

  “And his lawyer is going to want more than your word on that.” Caroline struggled to keep her tone low, her voice calm. Maybe if she kept talking to him, a miracle would happen and they'd get out of this alive. She looked over to Amelia, saw determination in her friend's eyes, but it was just the two of them against eight guys. The odds were fucking staggering.

  Jake let out a frustrated groan, struck out at Jillian with his foot again. There was no crack this time; he'd kicked her in the stomach, so there was just a scream, and then she was doubled over on the floor. “I want to believe that you're telling me the truth, Caroline.”

  “I am. Stop hurting her.” Caroline's wrist felt weak from the way she'd been holding the gun, but she kept it up. “Leave her alone.”

  “I'm going to need to be sure that you're telling the truth.” Jake stepped back from Jillian. He whistled sharply. In seconds, there were the seven men he'd mentioned, and they were in the bar. “Split them up. Take that one upstairs.” He pointed to Caroline.

  “Fuck that,” Amelia spoke out. Jake turned to her so quickly that Caroline barely had time to register what was happening. The sound of the shot in the enclosed room was deafening.

  Caroline pulled the trigger without any hesitation. The bullet only grazed Jake's arm because of the way that her hands shook. Amelia was on the floor and there was blood, so much blood, but she couldn't tell where it was from. She was tackled from the side before she could get another shot.

  The impact knocked the wind out of her. She gasped for breath, struggled to sit up, but the man was still on her. She felt his hand brush over her thigh before the other slammed her head into the floor. Everything went black.

  <#<#<#<#

  She was tied to her chair, in her office. Her legs and arms were held down by duct tape wound tight enough that they were numb. Caroline blinked at the light. It was bright. Too bright. She either had the worst migraine in the world or a concussion. Jake's face came into focus. He grinned. “Welcome back, Caroline.”

  “I've got nothing different to say to you, Jake.” Her tongue felt too thick for her mouth. “Turn off the light.”

  “Too bright for you? I can make it brighter. Hell, I can make it so bright that it'll burn your eyes out.”

  “I can't access the money without the lawyer.” Caroline realized, no matter the threat, she wouldn't tell him if she could. She wouldn't give Buster's fortune to the man who had taken his life. The more time passed, the more she knew that he was gone. And she was pretty sure she'd be gone soon, too.

  “So you keep saying.” Jake crouched down in front of the chair. Her hands were bound to the arms with her palms up. He traced his fingers over her exposed arm. “Do you know how Nightshade marks their women?”

  “What?”

  “They brand them. Get something metal, steel works well. Heat it up. Press it against the skin and wait until you hear the flesh cooking or the screams stop.”

  “So?” Caroline's mouth felt dry. “I need water.” And she needed him to stop talking. And maybe she needed to throw up.

  “I'll give you water, if you tell me why Buster hasn't bothered to brand you. Doesn't that keep you up at night? Amelia's the only other Nightshade old lady. She's got a brand right on her wrist.”

  “I don't know.”

  “You don't know much of anything,” Jake shook his head. “I'm getting bored with the same old song. Maybe you need more incentive than watching Jillian get stomped and Amelia getting shot. Maybe I need to make it more personal.”

  He stepped back. Caroline closed her eyes, opened them again and tried not to fall apart. This was going to end badly. Really fucking badly. And it wouldn't be quick. Jake was opening a small leather bag she hadn't seen him come in with. How long had she been out for? Where were Jillian and Amelia? Was Amelia alive? Was Jillian? Was she as alone as she felt when she watched him take out a metal rod with a circle attached to the end? She couldn't make out the letters, but she recognized it for what it was, it was a brand iron like the ones used on livestock. He also had a small blow torch. Just fucking great. Caroline knew that trying to escape was futile, so she braced herself.

  She willed her brain to go wherever it had gone when she'd spent the months in bed after her broken engagement, a place where she felt nothing and there was only white noise and waves, but she remained brutally aware.

  She could smell the fuel for the torch; it was butane, not that it mattered. Jake came back over to her, made a show of heating the circle. Caroline tried to make out the lettering, but she couldn't. Focus wasn't her strong suit at the moment. It never occurred to her to beg Jake not to do as he planned, because deep down she knew it wouldn't change a thing.

  Nothing would change a thing. There was no one to ride to her rescue. She was going to die, in her own chair, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. It was hopeless. Even if it wasn't, even if she could fight, she wasn't sure that she would.

  Jake didn't say a word as he shut off the torch. The metal glowed menacingly. Caroline finally figured out what it was. She recognized the intricate WC from the graffiti around town. It was insult to injury as the hot metal pressed against her skin.

  The pain was unlike anything she'd ever felt. Worse than she thought possible. The smell of searing flesh, her flesh, made her stomach churn. She managed not to throw up, and then the iron was no longer against her skin. It was still agony, but she managed to breathe through it as he pressed the iron against the sensitive skin of her inner arm again.

  “Are you certain that you cannot access the accounts, Caroline? One-hundred-percent sure?”

  Caroline lost track of how many times he had asked the question after the third round. No matter how she answered, she was burned. He only wanted to know what she didn't know. The edges of her vision began to blur. Despite the pain, she was tired. So tired that it was hard to tell if she kept falling asleep or passing out.

  Jake roused her each time with a sharp slap to the face. Her cheek was sore, but that was the least of her concerns. It was a toss-up between what agony was worse, the pain in her head or the raw skin of her inner arm. “Have you had enough, Caroline? Are you going to tell me the truth now?”

  “I have been.” At that moment Caroline was glad she was telling the truth because if she'd known something she just might have blurted it out to make this stop.

  “Wrong answer. I'll give you credit, you're tougher than I expected. You've heard of Binky, right?” Jake reached into his jeans and pulled out a baggie with several pills in it. “It's a mite unpredictable, but you know that already, don't you?

  Caroline did her best to resist but there was little she could do to keep him from shoving the pills in her mouth. He held her mouth shut, her head screamed at the added pressure. Finally, she swallowed.

  “Good girl.”

  <#<#<#<#

  Caroline had never really understood the draw of hard drugs. She'd smoked her share of pot, it was nice, and, of course, drinking was
always a good time, but anything more and the risks outweighed any benefits she could see.

  But now she was starting to understand why people got high. She'd been unsure of what to expect with Binky, but what was happening was something very much like floating. It wasn't like being in the water, it was more like being in the sky. She didn't even care that she was tied to a chair, because her mind was far far away. It occurred to her that it would have been merciful of Jake to dose her before he'd started in on the branding, but that would have defeated the purpose.

  Idly Caroline wondered what had happened to Amelia and Jillian. Were they high, or were they gone? Did it matter? Everyone was gone. Buster was gone. Buster. The mere thought of him made her entire body cramp. Her heart was sore. She could feel it with every beat, or maybe that was the drug. Either way, it didn't matter. He was gone. If he wasn't, he'd have been here by now, and she'd be high on him and not whatever Jake had forced down her throat.

  It had only been a few minutes since he'd left the room. Or had it been hours? Days? Suddenly she had a thirst so intense it made a whimper escape her parched lips. Caroline tried to call out without giving it too much thought, but she couldn't find her voice.

  Panic dug claws into her, pierced the skin and drew blood. Blood. So much blood. No matter how much she tried to tell herself it wasn't real, it was the drugs, it didn't matter. The pain that had ebbed away was back now with a vengeance.

  Darkness edged her vision again. Caroline didn't bother to fight it, she let it take her over. The last thing she could remember thinking was that soon, she'd be with Buster once again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Blow the fucking wall already, Train. Stop showboating.” Buster's patience had been gone for a while, but he'd bitten his tongue. He didn't want to rush Train. One wrong move and the whole fucking place could come down on them.

  The tension that Buster had feared would destroy them earlier had abated now that they were all focused on one thing. Getting out of the building alive. They'd found the second door hidden in a closet in one of the offices, but it, too, was made of reinforced steel and locked from the outside.

  “How does he know how to do that?” Manuel asked.

  “Who knows with him?” Buster had to smile. “He could have read a book about it once or researched it online. Train retains information really well.”

  “How smart is he?”

  “Smarter than the two of us combined,” Buster replied without doubt. “He should be working for NASA or some shit.”

  “I hope he can pull this off. I'm no rocket scientist, but if that wall comes down wrong, knocks out the supports, this place is going to come down. Right? That's not even mentioning if he used too much explosive.”

  “Right.” Buster couldn't deny it. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that they were rolling the dice pretty hard on Train being able to do what he said. “He'll do what he says. It's who he is.”

  “Hope you're right about that.”

  Even with the faith he had in Train, Buster didn't remain any closer to the blast site than he had to. Only Train would be right there; he'd sent Einstein and Caesar back with everyone else. If it didn't work, he'd be the first one killed.

  “Fire in the hole!” Train shouted. The explosion that followed rocked the building. Buster was reminded of the old abandoned church, but this time, nothing collapsed. Train threw his head back and laughed. “Told you that I could do it.”

  No one wanted to remain in the warehouse any longer than they had to. Danny already had his phone to his ear. “No answer on Amelia's cell.”

  Buster took out his phone, dialed Caroline's number, and the phone went directly to voice mail. “Caroline's phone is off.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket. They'd been stuck in the warehouse for almost four hours, an eternity, really. “We need to get back.”

  “We're with you,” Manuel spoke up.

  They'd parked several blocks away from the warehouse not to be detected, but when they arrived at the spot, the bikes were gone. The SUVs that Manuel and his guys had arrived in were parked across the street.

  Buster considered it a stroke of luck that they hadn't been touched. Considering their luck as of late, he wasn't sure that it was a good thing. “Wait,” he called out. “They could be rigged.”

  “Everyone move back a little.” Manuel chuckled, pulled a key ring from his pocket. “That's the beauty of remote start.” He pressed a button; one truck roared to life and the lights came on. “One down. Who's got the other key?”

  Einstein cleared his throat. “DB was driving, Boss.” They hadn't found DB, even after the quick sweep of the front of the building on the way out of Dodge. “Gonna have to hot-wire it, but if it's rigged, the attempt is essentially a suicide mission.”

  “Fuck this, I'll do it,” Ace spoke up. “Should only take me a minute either way.”

  Buster didn't realize that he'd held his breath until the engine started. He took a deep breath. “What are we waiting for? Let's go.”

  <#<#<#<#

  They parked the trucks a few blocks from the bar, walked the quiet streets. There were only a few houses with the lights on. The lights of the bar weren't on, but the street light overhead gave a good view of the line of bikes, their bikes, just outside the door. There was no sign of the hang-arounds or any sign of life in general.

  Buster's first instinct was to run towards the bar, but he didn't. Instead, he cleared his throat. “We need to go in from both sides, cover both doors. Got to assume that the guards are dead.” They'd been barely more than kids. All married. Two with children. And he couldn't let himself think about the fact that Caroline had been in that building.

  “They could all be dead.” Danny exhaled deeply. “I don't give a fuck how we go in, but we need to do it now. My old lady is in there.”

  “Let's stop talking and start moving,” Manuel suggested. “I'll go around back. Who's with me?”

  “I'm taking the front.” Buster forced his mind to clear, though it was no easy feat. He needed to be focused for this. “Danny, you're with me.”

  As they approached the bar, the evidence of a shootout became clear. There were several blood pools but no sign of bodies. If Buster had to guess, he'd say that the hang-arounds had been ambushed. It looked like they'd put up a decent fight, though, that was something. The front door swung open at the slightest touch.

  Buster was the first through the door. He had Danny right on his back, Einstein, Monroe and Bones were not far behind. The sound of voices carried from the basement, and the floorboards on the second floor creaked. Buster heard voices as he stepped inside, knew that they were coming from the basement. There was also the sound of movement on the second floor. He motioned for the men to hold until Manuel, Train, Ace and Caesar came through the door from the kitchen.

  The floor creaked again. Train looked up with a frown. He motioned towards the stairs, and Manuel nodded. Once again they split up. Buster moved to be first through the door, but Monroe stopped him, motioned that he'd go first.

  Buster didn't care who went first. He just wanted whoever was in that room out. That room belonged to Nightshade; it had been called the chapel when Buster patched in, but over the years it simply became the room. It was where they made most of the decisions, welcomed new members, and above all, it was always a safe place for them, just like the bar. Now both had been invaded and disrespected.

  Monroe threw the door open and fired immediately. Someone in the room shouted, and return fire rang out. “Get away from her.”

  Her. Buster's heart clenched in his chest, and he surged forward, sure that he was going to see Caroline in the room. It wasn't Caroline. It took a moment to recognize the woman spread out on the table as Jillian with all the blood and bruising.

  “Jesus Christ.” Buster exhaled the word. There had been two men in the room. Neither was wearing pants, so it became obvious exactly what they'd been doing.

  There was no time to dwell on it, as the s
ound of gunfire came from upstairs. “Go. I've got her.” Monroe took off his cut and pulled off his tee shirt. “Jillian, it's James. I'm here to help you.” Her only response was a small mewling sound, like a wounded animal.

  Buster was up the stairs before he could hear what happened next. Jillian was alive, even though she might not wish she was, which meant that it was entirely possible Caroline was still alive and that she'd met the same fate.

  The shooting had stopped by the time he got to the second floor. There was only chaos and carnage. “Amelia's up here, Boss. She's hurt. Shot,” Bones called out.

  “Any sign of Caroline?” Buster asked. Bones shook his head.

  “She's not up here, Buster.” Manuel slid his phone into his pocket. “I've called Maggie. We're going to take Amelia to her, try and keep this as low-key as possible. We got four dead up here.”

  “Two downstairs,” Buster replied. Six men. It had taken six men to take down the bar. Only six men. “Any sign of Jake?”

  “Nope. We've been through every room up here,” Ace replied. “No sign of Jillian, either.”

  “She's downstairs. She was in the room,” Buster told him. He grabbed the man's arm as he went to rush down the stairs. “Monroe is with her. She's hurt.” He didn't know a delicate way to say the rest, so he just said it. “She's beaten up pretty bad and she's been raped, Ace.” Ace jerked his arm out of Buster's grasp and took off down the stairs two at a time. “Bones, go with him. Make sure he's got whatever he needs.”

  “What do you need?” Train came over to where they stood, still wiping blood off of his knife. Actually, we've got five dead up up here. There was someone in my room.”

  “Get the bodies together. We've got to get rid of 'em.” Buster forced himself to focus on the business of cleaning up the bar and not the fact that there was no sign of Caroline. Where the hell was she? There was so much blood. So much to clean up. Too much. “You're not going to like the next part, Train.” None of them were going to like the next part. “We're never going to be able to get this place cleaned up, not so that the crime scene investigators can't find any trace of what happened here.”