Declan’s best shot at making sure Layla got out of here alive was to walk through the front door. With determined strides, he got to the door and shoved it open.
Layla’s soft hair was knotted in Trigger’s hand, tears streaked her porcelain cheeks, and just below the black bandana that covered her eyes, an ugly red line tainted her beautiful face. Her arms were tied behind her back, duct tape over her mouth; the sight cut into him sharper than any knife.
Declan’s breath sucked out of him, anger warped into rage creating a level of fury he’d never known before. Blood pumped fire through his veins as he met Trigger’s beady little eyes. His black hair a greasy mess of curls that Declan wanted to rip from his head.
“Welcome,” Trigger said. “Happy you could come.”
“Cut the bullshit, Trigger. I’m here, now let her go,” Declan demanded.
“I don’t know.” Trigger yanked Layla’s head back. A muzzled yelp came from behind the tape. Pain formed along her jawline, and her nose twitched.
Flashes of red exploded behind Declan’s eyes, and while it killed him to do nothing, he didn’t move. If he did, he risked Trigger hurting Layla more. He couldn’t allow that, but mostly he couldn’t stomach it. It was bad enough seeing her like this; Declan didn’t know how much more he could take.
This was all his fault.
“She has nothing to do with what happened,” Declan said. “You want your revenge. I’m here. Let. Her. Go.”
“I’m starting to think that hurting her…” Trigger pulled Layla flush against him, hand on her neck. Bile rose in Declan’s throat, and he tried to force it down, but the acid clung to his tongue. “Will hurt you more than anything I can do to you.” He pulled out a knife from his belt and held it to Layla’s face. “Maybe I can carve her a matching scar.”
Declan’s nails dug into his palms. He didn’t have many cards to play, and he needed to be strategic in everything he did. He needed to get into Trigger’s mind and figure out his thought process. It was the only way Declan would get the upper hand.
“I was about to have it all, you know?” Trigger said, and Declan froze. “Then I find out we have a rat amongst us and one of our own is feeding him information. I knew it was you, and I was going to put an end to your pathetic life just like I did your father’s.”
Declan’s eyes widened, his jaw tightened, and every muscle in his body begged him to launch himself at the asshole, but not while he was holding a knife to Layla’s face. He swallowed. “Bullshit.” Trigger was baiting him, trying to get him to make a move, but he wasn’t dumb enough to latch on.
Trigger’s mouth upturned like a sadistic clown. “It was almost too easy, really. He walked right into my trap like the ignorant asshole he was. All I had to do was put in a call, telling him that you got yourself into some trouble and you needed to be bailed out. He didn’t waste a second.”
Declan’s jaw turned to solid stone; every muscle in his body rippled with the desire to rip Trigger’s throat out. The bastard used him to lure his father to his death. “See, Luke, that was your father’s biggest weakness—giving a shit about you. From the minute you were born he got weaker, and every day you stayed on this earth that weakness grew until he was a pathetic excuse for our president. I did him a favor. I let him die while he still had some dignity left. Just like I did with Vegas.”
Confusion knotted Declan’s stomach. “Vegas died of a heart attack.” He’d seen the death certificate with his own eyes.
“I know. He made it so easy for us. I hadn’t even got to the torturing part when he keeled over. Couldn’t have planned it better myself, really.”
So much information was running through Declan’s head. This whole time he thought his dad was killed by a rival gang, Vegas died of a heart attack, and all along it was Trigger. Declan should’ve known. He was the definition of a narcissist, always wanting to be the one calling the shots but never being able to get the support to take the position. He was the one who brought drugs and guns into the club, which meant he was the reason the club got on the feds’ radar.
Declan wasn’t the reason for the club’s demise; it was Trigger, and deep down, Declan had a feeling he knew it. Declan was the easy target, so Trigger could go back and rebirth the group, putting himself in the position he’d always dreamed of but could never have.
This had nothing to do with revenge. This had to do with Trigger tying up loose ends, making himself look like the club’s hero by taking out the guy who brought them down. He was using Declan’s life as a means to gain control and power of Satan’s Children.
Now that Declan knew, he could use that information to his advantage. He just needed to manipulate the situation just right.
“You kill her, and people will be looking for her. Friends, family, colleagues, patients… The list is endless. They will go looking for her, and they will find her, and you will rot in jail never getting back your precious club. Me on the other hand? No one gives two shits about me. I don’t have family or friends that would care enough to look for me. You want your club back then you need to let her go.”
“Nice try, but if I let her go, she’ll rat.”
“Let her. By then it’ll be too late.”
“If I put a bullet in your head and take off with her on the loose, I won’t get across state lines before they have me in the back of a cruiser. I don’t leave a trail. You know that.”
“Then I’ll go with you.” If Declan went back to California, Trigger could gather the few members who’d managed to dodge the raid and they could follow protocol for a disgraced member. And instead of Trigger going back home with a tale to tell, he’d have the grand prize.
Layla’s mumbles echoed through the small space. “Shut up!” Trigger shook her then knocked her to the floor. She fell with a loud thump, and Declan used every ounce of strength not to run to her. If he ran, Trigger would panic and things would get messy. Declan didn’t want messy. He needed this to run as smoothly as possible. If he could get Trigger to agree, he could get him far away from Layla. That’s all Declan needed right now—to know she would be safe. He didn’t give shit about what happened to him.
He could easily reach into his waistband, pull out the gun, and end this now. Layla wouldn’t see anything, but Declan didn’t want to risk it with her so close. If something went wrong, he’d never forgive himself.
“How do I know she won’t go looking for you? We leave her here, the cops show up, she identifies me. She knows my name, she saw my face.”
“She won’t.”
“And how the hell do you know that?”
“Because I’m asking her not to.”
“Like that means shit.”
“I go with you, she stays, the cops question her, and she tells them she doesn’t know who took her and she doesn’t know where I am.”
“She’ll blab the minute we walk out that door.”
“Layla,” Declan said. Her head tilted toward his voice, and he fought the raging desire to carry her far away from here. “Nod and tell me you understand.”
She shook her head instead, and he loved her resolve, but this wasn’t a time for her to put her foot down. He needed her to cooperate. “I need you to let me go. After all, it was just sex. Nothing more.” He hated himself for saying it, but he didn’t want Trigger to know how much she meant. If Trigger thought their relationship was only sex, this could work. “Don’t come after me. I don’t want you. Don’t tell the sheriff a thing. Promise me.” Even though she couldn’t see him, he kept his eyes trained on her. Her body slumped, and he watched defeat consume her. “Layla!” His voice was menacing, raised in a way he would never speak to her, but this wasn’t a night at Calhoun’s.
She nodded. He only hoped that in the end, she didn’t believe a word.
“I swear, if you try a single thing, I will end you,” Trigger said. “And then I’ll come back and kill her, too.”
“Let her go, and you can have me. No funny business.”
“Sh
e stays,” he said. “We go.”
Chapter 23
Layla tried in vain to get her words to be heard. Declan couldn’t leave with this animal. Trigger would kill him, and she’d never see him again. If she could only get the damn blindfold off and look into his eyes, she could at least let him know how much she loved him.
A hand grabbed her and dragged her across the floor.
“Take it easy!” Declan’s voice bellowed through the silence.
“Why do you care? You’ll be dead soon enough.”
Layla yelled again, but it was nothing more than a muffled sound.
When they left, Layla could drag her face across the floor to break free of the bandana. She could run into the woods and go for help. They could track Declan down before it was too late. She could save him. She just had to hold onto her strength a little longer.
Her body hit a wall, and she heard the cock of a gun. Her body shook, teeth chattering as fear consumed her. Declan made a deal so she would live. Was Trigger going back on it now?
“Get over here,” Trigger said. “Secure her to this pipe. I don’t need her running off too soon.”
She felt the familiar warmth of Declan kneel beside her. His large frame blocking what little light she could make out.
“I’m so sorry,” he said as his voice drifted past her. It happened so quick she wondered if it was her imagination. His breath warm against her bare neck sent a chill down her spine. “This never should have happened,” he said on a quiet breath. The anguish in his voice was like a stab to the heart. So much pain filled him, and she wanted to be able to soothe it away.
Tears poured down her face as sobs wracked her body. She attempted to tell him it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault. If he could only hear her. This was so unfair. Hadn’t they both gone through enough? What had they done to deserve any of this?
Declan gently took her wrist, unhooked her cuff, then put her wrist back in the cold metal. “I should’ve stayed away from you,” he said as the cuff clicked into place. She went to move her arm and the clang of metal on metal rang out. She was stuck. Now there was no hope.
He pulled on her wrist, clanking the cuff against the pipe to show Trigger she was secure, but she realized he did it to cover his voice.
“For what it’s worth,” Declan said, his mouth coming close to her ear but not close enough as he moved away. “I love you.” And then like a fast-moving storm, he was gone, leaving her to reel with the debris.
“Let’s go,” Trigger said and the sound of boots hit the wood, getting farther and farther away. The door opened and closed, and then there was nothing but silence.
Chapter 24
There was one thing in life that was a guarantee, and that was death. Declan knew it would come one day, and he never expected to make it this far in life, but somehow, he’d managed. Now, he was ready for whatever was next, even if it was the end.
He hated leaving Layla in that cabin, but at least he knew she was out of harm’s way there. Even if his plan didn’t work, she was alive, and she would be okay. He was grateful for the time he had with her, though he wished it didn’t have to come to this. Wished she never had to know this side of him.
“They’re going to be looking for your car,” Declan said. “They already have an ATL out for it.” He needed Trigger to keep talking.
Trigger shoved his gun into Declan’s back as if he wanted to remind Declan who was calling the shots. “You think I’m stupid enough to not know that? I have another car stashed. We’ll stick to the backroads. Most of the cops are at that damn festival. Fucking small town bullshit. They wouldn’t even know what to do if they caught me.”
The snap of a twig to their right halted Trigger in his steps. Trigger swung his gun around.
If Declan was going to die, he was going to die trying. Layla was far enough away. She was safe. He had to try to at least get back to her. Trigger turned slowly toward Declan, and Declan lunged.
Chapter 25
Twisting her body, Layla managed to get her head down by the handcuffs. She used her wrist and the metal of the cuff to push at the bandana. Back and forth she moved her head until finally the bandana fell to her neck.
She blinked her eyes, adjusting her sight, taking in the old abandoned cabin. It was definitely a hunting cabin with nothing more than a wood stove and a cot. Cobwebs hung from the corners, and specks of dirt covered the floor.
Now that she could see, she turned to look at her wrists. The pipe she was attached to fed into the wall. She doubted she could break it free, but she had to try. She yanked and tugged, propping her feet against the wall and leaning as far back as she could, but the metal cut into the soft skin of her wrists, and a tear fell from her eye.
She didn’t have time for tears. If she didn’t get out of here and get help, Declan would be gone. She didn’t care that she promised him she wouldn’t look for him. Did he honestly think she wouldn’t? Or was that all part of his plan? She had no idea what to do or think.
If she could have just seen his eyes, she would have been able to read the situation, know what he was thinking, but now all she had to go off of were his words. But he was a master at suppressing his emotions, so it didn’t exactly help.
Though, he did whisper the truth in her ear when he secured her to the pipe. She just didn’t know if that was his goodbye or his plea for her to not give up on him.
It didn’t matter what he wanted. She would not sit back while he stormed off to his death. She yanked at the pipe again, got on her feet, and contorted her body, placing a foot on the wall and using all of her weight to lean forward.
The pipe shifted, or maybe that was wishful thinking, but she continued using her weight and her foot to pull. She ignored the metal cutting into her wrist, the aching pain that radiated up her arm and into her elbow and tugged harder.
A crack reverberated through the air, and with one final yank, the pipe burst free from the wall and she crashed to the ground.
A new sense of determination flared through her veins. She unraveled herself from the mess of pipes and stood free of restraint. She cupped her hand, trying to make it as slim as possible and pull her hand through the cuff, but her efforts were useless. It was too damn tight. She tried the other cuff, the one Declan had secured, it wasn’t as tight, and she twisted and pulled, feeling her skin cut against the metal. Come on! she cried out in her head and yanked with all that she had.
Her hand came free, and she sighed in relief. She had no idea what the hell she was about to do, but she couldn’t stay here. She ripped the duct tape from her mouth, a sharp pain cut through her cheek and lips. She ran a hand across the abused skin then ran for the door.
She flung the door open just as a gunshot echoed through the air.
Chapter 26
Panic and fear were like an iron grip that held her in place. She wanted to run to Declan, make sure he was okay, but the thought of seeing him lifeless on the ground had her legs giving out from beneath her. She collapsed just outside on the small dilapidated porch.
Her lip chattered, and her mind went numb. The silence that came after the gunshot was almost too much to take. She knew she shouldn’t assume, but something in her gut told her that it was over.
A tear slipped down her cheek as she fought the overpowering darkness that tried to consume her. She had been strong for so long, carrying the weight of everyone else’s grief, and she couldn’t do it anymore.
Her head became too heavy to hold up, and she let it fall limply in her hands. A familiar ache of sorrow latched onto her, tugging her down into the blackhole of grief. Her body shook from the onslaught of emotion, too exhausted to try and sort it all out.
She inhaled and choked on a sob. “No!” she said, standing up. She wouldn’t just sit here and cry while that man was on the loose. He would pay.
Layla forced herself to her feet and took off down the porch. She ran through the trees, dead leaves crunching beneath her feet. With each step, she propelled he
rself faster and farther.
“Layla!” Her heart slammed into her chest and nearly escaped through her throat. She stumbled, catching her footing before she went down. She spun, searching the beautiful voice she never thought she’d hear again.
Then she ran toward it, faster than she’d ever moved before. As she came around a clump of trees, she saw him.
He was alive.
The realization crashed into her in waves of relief and joy. He held his side as he limped toward her.
“Declan!”
She ran until she slammed against him. He let out a distressed sound, but tightened his hold on her anyway. Her arms went around his neck, the handcuff still dangling from her wrist. He kissed her head and held her so damn tight. “Are you okay?” he asked, trying to pull back, but she refused to let go. Not yet. Not when moments ago she thought he was dead. “I need to know you’re okay, baby girl.” She finally let him step back, and he looked her up and down.
“I’m okay,” she assured him.
“Thank God.” His hand wrapped around her head and pulled her into him. Her cheek landed against his hard chest, and she basked in his warmth. “I am so sorry,” he said. “For all of it. This never should have happened.”
She reached up, taking his face in her hands, his beard rubbing roughly against her palms. “Look at me,” she demanded until his dark irises locked on hers. “This wasn’t your fault.”
He closed his eyes, pain of a tortured soul tugging at the lines around them. She repeated herself over and over until he finally opened his eyes.
“I should have protected you.”
“You did,” she said. “You found me, and you handed yourself over to death for me. You protected me, and I’m happy you did because I can finally tell you that I love you, too. I love you so damn much.”
Lusting After Layla Page 14