An Outlaw Valentine

by Kathryn Kelly

  Meggie recalled a biker stopping at their table the last time she and Christopher had been out with Johnnie and Kendall. She searched her brain for the man’s name but couldn’t come up with one. However, she remembered Christopher mentioning a club he was having trouble with. All the bikers, except Mystic, had worn jackets, so she hadn’t seen their rockers.

  Had Mystic turned his back to her? If he had, she didn’t notice. She’d been too busy trying to stall for a chance of being rescued.

  “You’re with the Imperials?” she asked.

  “Smart bitch. I might get your pussy wet before I fuck you as a reward.”

  She wanted to break down and weep, but she knew that would do her no good, so she decided to use another tact. “If you let me go, I swear Christopher will let you live.”

  He twisted the hair he still held. “He’s going to let me live anyway, slut. I’m the new blood. He can’t outsmart me. After I fuck you for a few days, I’ll call him and tell him my demands. Depending on his response, I’ll decide if I will send you back a fully intact corpse or not. I think I might have to keep your pretty head as a trophy.”

  Her stomach turned at the words. They had no intentions of letting her go. She was dead any way it went.

  “Don’t kill me,” she said softly. “You’ll get more out of Christopher if I’m alive—and he has proof.”

  “Mystic, Prez, we’re going to be late,” someone called down the stairs. “Leave the cunt alone. They’ll be plenty of time to stick your dick in all holes.”

  “Megan…”

  As he droned on, Meggie tuned him out, one thought hitting her. The door was open. She had a chance to escape. Maybe, the only chance she’d ever get. She had to take the chance. He intended to rape and kill her anyway it went.

  Swallowing her fear and thinking of Christopher and her children, Meggie launched herself at Mystic, catching him off-guard. She jetted up the steps, realizing she didn’t have shoes on and not caring. Bursting into the open air, she surprised the two men waiting outside the entry—of an underground bunker.

  One of the men grabbed her leg. In response, she balled her fist and punched him on the side of his jaw, earning her freedom. She raced toward the porch, where a dog sat, watching the happenings.

  Nearing the house with her pursuers hot on her heels, Meggie cried out in relief. A road came into view and a car zoomed by.

  “Help!” Meggie screamed as she was tackled to the ground and the wind was knocked from her.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” a woman demanded, ignoring Meggie’s sobs.

  “Get back inside, Hopper,” Mystic demanded.

  “No,” Meggie puffed out, raising herself to her knees and reaching out to the slender woman with long, brown hair and a pretty face.

  “Mystic, have you lost your mind?” another man gasped. “You lifted Outlaw Caldwell’s wife?”

  “Outlaw?” Hopper echoed. “From the Death Dwellers?”

  “Randolph, take your mama inside. And don’t sound so fucking shocked,” Mystic snapped. “You’re the motherfucker who gave me the idea. You’re changing your mind just because she’s your auntie?”

  “Mystic, shut up,” Randolph said furiously. “I don’t even know if she knows about Snake.”

  “Y-yes. I-I do,” Meggie said, nodding wildly. “Big Joe’s son.”

  Randolph nodded. “Well, I’m Big Joe’s grandson. Snake’s son.”

  “Help me, please,” she begged, not caring who was related to whom. She just wanted to get away.

  “Hop, come on, you know this is the only way,” Mystic wheedled.

  Hopper looked at Meggie. “You Big Joe’s baby girl?”

  Meggie shook, but still found it in her to nod.

  “Outlaw married you?” the other woman asked. Her gaze fell to Meggie’s left hand and her eyes widened. “Holy shits-bits, look at those stones.” She held out her hand.

  “No, please,” Meggie cried. “Don’t take my rings.”

  Scowling at her, Hopper wiggled her fingers.

  Her heart breaking, Meggie yanked off her wedding set and handed it to Hopper, who snatched it from her and slid it on her pinky. “Now, you little cunt, thinking you’re the shit because you married Outlaw,” the woman snarled, slapping Meggie

  to the ground and jumping on her before Meggie could strike back.

  The men laughed.

  “C’mon, Momma,” Randolph said in disgust. “You’re kidding me, right? You’ve already convinced us to align with the Dwellers, when we came to town to avenge my father.”

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Hopper whispered to Meggie, not listening to her son. “Just follow my lead. I’m going to keep you alive and unmolested until I can get you out of here.”

  Meggie processed the words, scared to believe Hopper was on her side.

  “Close your eyes,” Hopper said. “Pretend I knocked you out.”

  Doing as instructed, Meggie lay still. Hopper pulled away from her.

  “Okay, assholes, if you harm her any more than you already have, I’m leaving.”

  “Here we go,” Mystic said with a sigh. “I’m just having a little fun, Hop.”

  “Not with Outlaw’s old lady. Big Joe’s daughter. They were always good to me, so was Snake,” she added.

  “You seemed to have forgotten that when you jumped on her, Momma,” Randolph reminded her.

  She sniffed. “I just didn’t like her. That’s why I knocked her out.”

  A jolt of pain went through Meggie at the vicious kicks she received on her thigh. It took everything in her not to moan. Hopefully, they wouldn’t see the tears slipping down her cheeks.

  “What are you doing?” Hopper demanded as Meggie heard the rip of material and felt cool air rush over her chest.

  “She’s pissy,” Mystic said. “And she tried to escape. If this bitch has no clothes on, she’ll think twice about doing either.”

  Meggie kept her eyes closed in humiliation, “coming to” just as she was stripped bare. She blinked up at the sky, then glanced at the other woman.

  A muscle in Hopper’s jaw jumped, and she looked away.

  Bending down, Mystic picked Meggie up and threw her over his shoulder, slapping her butt a few times on the way back to the bunker. He pounded down the concrete steps, then lifted her above his head. She squeaked in fear.

  “Should I slam you to the ground?” He smiled at her. “I wonder how many bones you’d break?”

  “Mystic!” Randolph called.

  Snickering, Mystic set Meggie on her feet. “Next time,” he said and left her alone.

  She hadn’t been steeped in darkness for very long before sunlight beamed in again and Hopper appeared.

  Walking closer, she laid the envelope next to her head. “That’s your ring. Keep it hidden. Assholes might’ve stolen it and then you’d never get it back.”

  “Th-thank you,” Meggie said, all curled up to cover her nudity.

  “Listen, babe. I’ve been knowing Outlaw a long time. If he married you, then you must mean a lot to him. He’s going to destroy everything, and anything connected with this. Even my boy for putting the idea in Mystic’s head. Put two idiots together and all you get are fuckups.”

  “I’ll talk to Christopher,” Meggie swore.

  Hopper shook her head. “It’s not going to make a difference. I have to leave with my boy until this blows over.”

  “Take me with you,” Meggie begged.

  “I can’t, babe. Mystic left some of his boys to guard the place. He’ll put up with a lot from me, but not betrayal. You and me would both be shot where we stood.”

  Meggie understood Hopper’s logic, even if she didn’t like it.

  “I left a note for Mystic,” Hopper continued, “asking him to abandon this suicide mission and telling him where I’m going. Randolph and me fell on hard times, and Mystic saved us, so I’m trying to save him. I’m giving him forty-eight hours—the weekend—to decide. Bright and early Monday morning, I’m getti
ng a message to Outlaw some kind of way and letting him know you’re here.”

  “Please don’t leave me here with Mystic. He’s going to kill me.”

  “I know you’re scared, but I am, too. Of Outlaw. Randolph and me have to get to safety, in case he finds out where you are before I send word.” Hopper grabbed her hand and squeezed. “If Mystic makes advances on you, submit, babe, and he’ll spare you.” She stood. “Remember, you’re Big Joe’s girl, Outlaw’s wife. Stand strong until your man comes to get you.”

  The woman’s words rang in Meggie’s ears long after she’d been left alone, cold, naked, and awaiting her fate. She prayed Christopher arrived in time to save her.

  Walking into his empty room, Christopher made his way to Megan’s side of the bed and stared at her space. Three nights ago was the last time she’d been there. Now, he could only picture her on the bed, waiting for him, as always. He’d torn all of Hortensia and half of Portland down, but his exhaustion curtailed his intent to continue on.

  His fatigue reminded him he was…human. But it was a race against the clock. The longer the Imperials held Megan, chances lessened that Christopher would get her back alive.

  He refused to admit his greatest fear—that it was already too late. She was already dead.

  Clearing his throat, he glanced around. The place was barren and hollow—lifeless—without his girl.

  He’d come home to grab an hour of sleep, but mostly to check on his kids, especially CJ. While Christopher combed the area for his girl, Bunny and Digger looked after CJ, Rule, Rebel, Ryder, and Ransom.

  Christopher rubbed his eyes and smiled at Megan’s love of ‘R’ names. Of babies and pregnancy.

  Of him. The thought arrowed straight to his heart, shattering it. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through. After not sleeping a wink since she’d been taken, he didn’t want to wipe out and fuck himself up before he brought her home.

  He dug in his pocket and found his smokes. Once he lit up, he took a drag and started pacing. Not having her with him was sheer torture. She had to be alive. As much as he wanted to be there for his children, he didn’t know how long he’d last without Megan. Right now, he held onto a shred of hope.

  But…no one had contacted him with any demands and that alarmed the fuck out of him. On the other hand, he hadn’t received a phone call, taunting him with the location of her…her…Jesus fucking Christ.

  Tears stung Christopher’s eyes. He couldn’t finish the sentence. She had to be alive. Case fucking closed.

  Losing interest in the cigarette, he walked to the coffee table across the room in their sitting area, and tapped it out in the ashtray, then he heaved in a breath and went to his side of the bed. He didn’t bother to remove his boots, his jacket, his cut, or any of his clothes. All he needed was a nap to refuel. Maybe, some food. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.

  His stomach turned. He wouldn’t hold anything down if he tried. Fuck, food. He wanted his wife.

  He laid in his spot, not wanting to move, willing her to be there. Wanting her hands to roam across his back and her lips to skim his skin. Many nights, they slept in the spoon position. Perhaps, that would help tonight?

  Keeping his back to the side of the bed she usually slept, Christopher curled in an imitation of spooning. It didn’t make him feel better. He actually felt worse. Megan wasn’t there to fit her body to his and flirt with him. Tell him about her day and ask about his. Her laughter existed only in his head.

  He shot into a sitting position and hung his head. Whoever took her from him would die in a slow, painful way. He usually didn’t fuck around with torture. Just kill a motherfucker and be done. They knew what the fuck they did to get fucked up. Why did Christopher have to waste his time reminding them, when the end result would be the same?

  But this, this, was something different. This deserved at least twenty hours of cutting. A finger one hour, a toe the next, and so on, until every motherfucking digit was hacked the fuck off. He’d have to stem the blood loss, so they’d survive the whole torture. Then, as he looked the motherfucker in his eyes, Christopher would carve Mystic’s fucking heart out. Motherfucker was doing it to Christopher figuratively.

  He’d return the favor with literal interpretation.

  Getting to his feet, he walked to the bathroom and headed to Megan’s closet. He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes when he picked up her scent. Cherry blossoms.

  The nightgown she’d worn the night before she was taken hung on a hook. The black silk made her look so fucking sexy. Going to it, he pulled the material against his face and sniffed. Tears leaked from his eyes, which pissed him off even further and made him add removal of eyeballs to his torture list.

  Sniffling, he removed the nightgown from the hook, buried his face in it and wept. The one thing he could say was he had no regrets. No matter the outcome. Loving her was his greatest joy and most precious privilege. And she knew it. He made sure he told her as much as possible, every day.

  He also knew how much she adored him. It never failed to humble him that a sweet girl like her could love a motherfucker like him. She loved him for him. It didn’t matter to her if he was Christopher or Outlaw, he was her man, and she let the world know it.

  She was his girl. His woman. His wife.

  His Megan.

  Unable to put the nightgown down, Christopher brought it into the bedroom with him, then laid it in her spot. He stared down at it and slapped his cheeks to remove the tears. Once, twice, three time! Until his face stung.

  Thrusting his hands through his hair, he dug into his pocket and came up with a small picture of Megan. He kissed it, then placed it on her pillow.

  This time, when he laid down, he faced her side. Seeing her nightgown and knowing her face was on the small photo comforted him.

  He was finally able to fall asleep.

  Unable to bear the thought that she’d had something to do with Meggie’s abduction, Kendall decided to drive to Randolph’s place herself. She wasn’t sure where the Dwellers had searched for Meggie, but Randolph’s place was so out of the way, she didn’t think that had been on their radar.

  She could alert Johnnie, so he’d tell Christopher. However, she’d just gotten back into her husband’s good graces. If she confessed she’d taken Randolph’s case, Johnnie would never forgive her, in light of recent events.

  She’d prefer to die than to lose her husband.

  Besides, unless, Johnnie went to Randolph’s place on his own, Christopher, the asshole, would want to know where Johnnie got the information. Johnnie might be too angry to protect her, and then her life would be over, anyway.

  No, it was best this way. She had to do this on her own.

  Reaching the house, Kendall turned off the road and onto the property. Noticing three motorcycles parked in the yard, she didn’t drive as far as she had when she’d dropped Randolph off. Killing the ignition at the edge of the property, near the street, Kendall thought of her husband again.

  The first time she’d seen him at Christopher’s bachelor party, when she’d still had her mother and sister in the world. From the moment her and Johnnie met, he’d protected her. He’d wanted her to stay and she’d wanted him to kiss her on the mouth.

  And their battle of wills had begun.

  Through some of her darkest days—her sexual assault, mother’s suicide, Kendall’s captivity—she’d held onto memories of her blond biker with the body of an athlete and the most magnificent silver eyes she’d ever seen.

  How could she have been so blind to his love? Why would she recognize it now, when it might be too late?

  Swallowing, she knew she couldn’t leave her Navigator without apologizing to him and telling him how much she truly loved him.

  I love you so much, Johnnie. I’m so sorry for all the things I’ve ever done to you. Please forgive me. When you remember me, think of the love we shared. Don’t let our children forget me.

  Swiping at her tears, Kendall press
ed send. It might’ve been melodramatic, but she just didn’t have a good feeling about her decision to rescue Meggie. In her bones, she knew it would be either her or Meggie to make it out alive.

  That was fine with her. She’d caused this, so she’d pay the consequences, even if it was the ultimate one.

  At peace with her decision, Kendall got out of the car and closed the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to alert anyone to her presence.

  Her heart banged in her chest and a little tremble assailed her. She was scared, so very scared. To die. To live. To be.

  Hoping she wouldn’t be spotted, Kendall hurried around the old house. When the raggedy front porch came into view, she noticed the dog was absent.

  Was that a good sign or a bad omen?

  It didn’t matter.

  Deciding on her next course of action, she shielded her eyes with her hand from the sunburst and glanced into the distance.

  Most of the structures had padlocks on them, which did Kendall no good. No use in delaying this. One way or the other she’d find Meggie.

  Marching forward, she skirted past the bikes and crouched down, so she wouldn’t be seen through the windows of the house. She reached the rusty old pickup and grabbed the bumper, standing to her full height and rushing to the first shoddy building.

  She put her ear against the door, trying to detect movement. “Meggie?” she called in a loud whisper.

  No response.

  “Meggie!”

  Nothing.

  God, this wouldn’t do. Her half-hearted effort annoyed her, so she stiffened her shoulders and pounded on the door.

  “MEGGIE!” she yelled.

  Not a peep.

  She decided to move to the next building and repeated the process. After three tries with no results, a chilling thought came to Kendall.

  Meggie was already dead.

  Her one true girlfriend. Roxy was like a mother to Kendall, but Meggie had been…a sister, a confidante, someone Kendall count on. Her treachery had ruined that, too.