Indie’s face is stricken as she watches her parents speak. New tears form in her mother’s eyes as she pleads with the camera. “Please, just return our daughter to us. And Kayla, honey, if you’re out there watching, come home. Please? We love you and we just want you safe.”
The image cuts to a reporter standing on the deserted country road where we took down the men who were hunting her. “The police strongly advise against approaching these people. Call Crime Stoppers on 1300—”
I hit the off button and throw the remote at the wall. “Fuck!”
Indie jumps, as if she’s just now noticing me for the first time. She’s white as a fuckin’ ghost.
“I didn’t get his name.” I turn to Prez.
“So we’re just as fucked on leads as we were five minutes ago?”
“Hit up the news sites. Someone is bound to have that fucker on there,” One Eye says. He’s standing at the entrance to the room, just behind Prez, with his massive arms folded in front of his chest.
“Someone get a fucking laptop out here,” Prez orders.
“Sergeant Cole,” Indie whispers.
“What’d you say, sweetheart?”
“Sergeant Cole, from the police department. He said he’s been working with my parents to bring me home.” She sits down heavily on the couch and stares up at me. “You were right; I can’t go home. I have no one.”
“Hey,” I say, ignoring the fact that my brothers are all watching this exchange. I sit down on the couch beside her and offer my hand. She glares at me, but places hers in mine. I wrap my fingers around her hand, squeezing hard so she’ll feel it. “You have me. We’re gonna find these fuckers, and we’re gonna end them.”
“You’re sure that was him?” Prez asks. “We go in there shooting up coppers we’re all as good as dead. We gotta be certain that’s the right guy, and we gotta be smart.”
“That was him. I’d know that voice, that face, anywhere.”
“Alright, boys, let’s go shoot another motherfuckin’ rapist.”
“I’m coming with you,” I say, which of course prompts Indie to agree.
“I wanna be the one to take him down,” she says.
“No fuckin’ way. You two are gonna stay here out of damn sight.”
“He did this to me.” She shoots up off the couch. “I appreciate your help, and everything you’ve done for me so far, but I should be the one to kill him.”
Prez laughs in her face. “Oh darlin’, have you ever put a gun to a man’s head before? It’s not like throwing a couple of punches. That’s the kinda shit you can’t erase.”
“I held a gun to Kick’s head.”
“And you’re still fuckin’ standin’?” Prez looks at me with his brows raised and a smug-as-fuck expression on his face.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re stayin’ here. You and your new pussy-whipped boyfriend, get to play hide the fuckin’ salami while we risked our arses with this shit.” Prez turns to the boys and says, “One Eye, Grim and Killer, you’re all riding with me. We’ll swing by the club and pick up Trigger and Diesel. Country and Squeals, you’ll stay here and guard the perimeter, though you probably won’t be needed.
“I’ll stay.” One Eye says. “Can’t have a geriatric and a fuckin’ blind man on patrol, Prez.”
“Yeah fine, whatever. It’s only gonna take one of us to get this motherfucker alone and put a bullet in his skull.”
“You can’t keep me here,” Indie shouts. She steps up into Prez’s personal space. “I should be the one to do it.”
He dismisses her, looking straight over her head at me. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, control your mouthy little bitch, Kick. Before she says some shit she can’t take back.”
“He’ll be taken care of.” I grab her shoulder, attempting to turn her so she can see the pleading in my eyes for her to let this go. “Little faith, Spitfire.”
She yanks her arm out of my grip. “Don’t touch me.” She stares accusingly at me. “You said you’d help me find them. You didn’t say you’d take the right away from me to drive the knife in his gut myself.”
“There’s more at stake here than just your revenge,” I snap back.
“Kick, deal with this fuckin’ shit,” Prez says, giving us his back. “We got ourselves a rapist to kill.”
“No!” Indie says and lunges at Prez, her fists up and ready for action, the way I taught her. I scoop her up and throw her over my shoulder, stalking away as she kicks and screams blue bloody murder. As I struggle with her up the stairs, I hear the laughter from my brothers below. Fuckin’ bitch. Now I’m never gonna live that shit down. I move along the corridor all the way to her room, where I shove open the door and stalk inside, throwing her down on the bed.
“Calm the fuck down!” I roar.
“Fuck you!” she spits back, scrambling to her knees on the soft comforter. “You fucking promised and you lied.”
“I didn’t lie,” I shout. “I meant it when I promised you and I would go get him together. Prez promised me that. But things fuckin’ change, bitch. You can’t go around attacking the fuckin’ president of a damn motorcycle club. Shit like that is gonna get you killed. And likely me too, ’cause I’m fuckin’ responsible for ya.”
“You are not responsible for me. You are nothing to me,” she shouts, and fuck me if it doesn’t hurt.
It’s not like I don’t understand why she’s so fucking distraught over this decision. When it comes to revenge, karma or someone else doing the job for you is just as bad as never getting your revenge at all. I felt it when it came to Lauren. I’d have likely died if Ethan hadn’t lost his shit and started shooting motherfuckin’ Angels in that farm house. There were eight of them to one of me, but that didn’t matter. I wanted to put a bullet through the skull of my oldest friend because he took the right away from me to kill Lauren’s murderers. They were all dead. At the end of the day it’s the same result, but you feel that loss as keenly as a fucking noose around your neck.
Indie launches herself at me and I catch her up, stumbling back a few paces into the door. I hold her fists at bay to keep her from giving me another black eye.
“Stop fuckin’ hittin’ me, woman. I didn’t do this. It’s beyond my control. If I could have, I’d have strapped that bastard into a chair and let you exact whatever punishment you wanted, but it’s no longer up to me. The lives of all of my brothers are at stake here if we don’t handle this carefully.”
All at once she sags against me and lets out a gut-wrenching sob. I walk us over to the bed and sit down. She curls her shins back against the mattress, so she’s straddling my waist and then I lay down, taking her with me.
Is it the smartest move I can make? Fuck no. But I do it ’cause I don’t have a fucking clue what else to do. I don’t relish her tears the way I did Ivy’s. I feel them. And I fuckin’ hate that. I hate her for that, for making me feel.
When she’s done drenching my shoulder she slides off of me and lies on her side in the hollow of my arm. My hand rests against her hip, and her thigh is hooked over mine … and my heart is skipping like a fuckin’ schoolgirl’s.
How the fuck did we get here?
I not only managed to screw shit up completely by taking her instead of putting a bullet in her head, but I went from being her captor, her tormentor, to what? A fuckin’ boyfriend? Her old man? Her saviour?
Jesus Christ, I need my head checked.
I don’t know how to process any of this shit. Her tired body sags against me, and sleep takes her over as I hold her and breathe in her sweet clean scent with her hair all up in my face. I stare at the ceiling and wonder where the fuck I go from here. ’Cause any way I look at it, I’m completely fucked.
As the high wears off for the third time tonight, the truth of our situation settles in. I’ve been selfish. I mean, I’m always selfish, but I’ve been particularly selfish with her safety, and that’s not really a luxury I have with a clubhouse full of bikers gunnin’ for this chick’s head and d
ead Angels everywhere. It’ll be sunrise soon, and we need to get her out of here. Propelled by new fears for her safety, I pull her close and kiss her forehead and then I jump up from the mattress and tear around the room, gathering together her things.
“We need to get you out of here.”
“Jesus, Kick. You couldn’t at least wait until my heart rate slows before you kick me out?”
“If they find you here, they’ll kill you.”
“Not if I get to them first.”
“You’re not still going through with this crazy fuckin’ vengeance plan, are you?” I spit.
She snaps. I’ve never seen this kind of reaction from her. She motherfuckin’ snaps and lunges at me. “They raped me. They busted up my face and took things from me, and you can’t even imagine what that feels like.”
“I was there,” I grab onto her arm and yank her towards me. “I don’t have to fuckin’ imagine. I saw every goddamned second of it.”
“And yet you still expect me to let them live with what they’ve done?”
“I expect you to be smart,” I say. “Every single fuckin’ brother in this club can outwit, outshoot you and overpower you. Going in there half-cocked will only get you killed. Right now the only thing keeping you alive is that Slayer supposedly has you in hiding. That angle is gonna be shot to fucking shit if I can’t get to the security tapes before Prez does. Not to mention the line of bodies you’ve left in your wake. We need to get you out of the city. I may know of someone who can help, but the only way we’re gonna make it there is if we get you outta here before the rest of the club wakes.”
“I’m not leaving until I’ve looked that motherfucker in the face and put a bullet between his eyes.”
“No, you’re not. You shoot him, you’ll be dead within seconds. Silencer or not, Princess, you got lucky, but that pile of bodies in the club lounge isn’t gonna go unnoticed for long. Every motherfuckin’ brother in this club is gonna turn this house upside down to find the killer. And they’re gonna start with this fuckin’ room, because my loyalties have already been called into question. You have to cut your losses. You gotta get the fuck outta here.”
“The only thing I’m going to be cutting is his balls off. I’m gonna start with your prez, and finish with the big guy.”
“Tank didn’t touch you,”
“He didn’t stop them either.”
“If he’d put his hands on you, I would have killed him myself.”
“Like you killed the rest of them?” she snaps. “How can you share a clubhouse with them, knowing what they did to me?”
“What fuckin’ choice do I have?”
“You could leave? You could have left when you helped me, and never came back.”
I laugh, but it’s a vile, empty sound. “You don’t get it. There’s no leaving the club.”
“People leave my father’s club all the time. When they want out, they hand in their patch.”
“Your father isn’t my fuckin’ prez, bitch. No Angel hands in their wings; they have ’em stripped, burned off, or blacked out, but no one ever fuckin’ walks away a free man. Betrayal comes at a price, Princess: a body bag and a one-way ticket to hell. The best you and I can hope for is you making it out of here in one piece. So get fuckin’ dressed and let me get you out of here.”
“I’m not leaving until he’s begging for forgiveness on his knees.”
“Let’s get one thing fuckin’ straight. If that’s what you’re after than you’re never getting outta here. He is not gonna beg or apologise for ripping your life apart. He will destroy you, and there’s not a goddamned thing you can do about it. You got off lucky, Princess. Plenty of girls been where you were and they never got to leave because they never had someone to fuckin’ save them.” I pick up the short leather skirt and the crop top she had on that exposed half of her breasts and I throw them at her. “Now, get dressed. Next time I have to tell you, I put you over my fuckin’ shoulder and carry you outta here, and that’s gonna draw a lot more attention than you strutting out in that skirt and wig and pretending like you’re someone else. You got me?”
She doesn’t say anything, but the tears runnin’ down her cheeks mean she doesn’t have to. I cross the room and attempt something I’ve never really done before; I comfort her. Or I try to. I don’t know, I probably just look like an insensitive fuckrod, but I take her in my arms, I grasp her chin in my hand and force her face up to mine.
“I don’t know how to do this shit,” I begin, and then try a different tact when I realise her expression has turned angry. “I never had a woman before.”
She gives me a disbelieving look and I hurry to finish. “Oh, I had plenty of women,”
“You’re off to an awesome start, Daniel. No really, please, keep talking.”
“I’ve had women, but none that were mine, you know?” I breathe out a heavy sigh. “I just, I wanna keep you. I’ve never had someone to depend on me ... until you.”
“I can’t let this go. I can’t—”
“Okay, don’t let it go. Just put it to bed for now. Let’s get you somewhere safe and come up with a better plan than strutting in there and blowing Prez’s head off.” I kiss her forehead, her cheek, her lips. “Let’s keep this pretty face intact. I’ve grown kinda used to it,” I grin. “And I still have a billion uses for it.”
“Fine,” she says, pouting like a fuckin’ child, though the blazing bloodlust in her eyes is anything but childlike. “We put it to rest for now, but we come back with a plan that still involves me blowing his goddamned head off.” She pulls away and slips into her skirt and top. She spends a couple of seconds arranging the wig back into place. Her underwear is a lost cause, but something about riding her on the back of my bike with her legs spread around mine and her bare cunt pressed up against my arse has my dick twitching again.
I ignore it though, ’cause honestly? I could fuck that pussy all night and still never get tired of it, but I’m not gonna have a pussy left to fuck unless I get her the fuck outta here.
When she’s dressed, I lay one final kiss on her lips. It’s hard not to let it take over, this need to have her, to possess every inch of her body. To teach her who owns that pussy. Who’s always gonna own it.
She pushes me away from her and back towards the door. Before I can open it though she’s in my arms again, wrapping her body around me. I catch her up and slam her into the door. I undo my fly and prepare to bury myself in her for a fourth time but she pulls away from my lips and shakes her head. “You bruised me. I’m gonna need a day or two to get the feeling back in my pussy, Kick.”
I groan in her ear and tuck my cock back inside my pants. I don’t miss what she said, and I’d find a way to see her, but I don’t know if she grasps the gravity of the situation here. I can’t fuckin’ play house with the bitch that escaped Prez’s grasp. I can’t shack up with the only one that ever slipped through his fingers, and we’ve already established the fact that I can’t just walk away from the club scot-free. That’s never gonna happen for us. Which means that this thing between us is never gonna happen. Not the way she really wants it to. Not the way I want it to.
“I hope you heal quickly then,” I say without thinking.
It’s as if we both just deflate after that. As if my words are a pin through the little fuckin’ bubble of happiness we’ve found in my room tonight. She wriggles out of my hold and slides down the door, shifting her skirt back into place, manoeuvring out from the space in front of me.
“We should go.”
“Yeah,” I say, and pull her back behind me as I open the door and peek out. There’s only an empty hallway so I tug her out with me and make for the back entrance. It’s the longer route, but we’re less likely to be seen that way, and even if we are seen the lack of lighting in the lot, and that fuckin’ hideous wig she’s wearing combined with that outfit mean she probably wouldn’t be recognised anyway.
All the same I hurry her out into the lot, through the door that I dragged h
er kicking and screaming through only a few short weeks ago, and now, for the second time in the month that I’ve known her, I’m sneaking her out of the compound, right under Angel noses.
When we round the building my bike is lined up alongside the others, but the lot isn’t empty like I’d hoped. Tank comes storming towards me. I pause, not knowing what to do. Not knowing where we stand. It’s true he helped Lauren escape once before, but he took a bullet to the arm for it, and he almost got caught doing it. He’d almost lost his life because of it. I don’t know if he’d be willing to take that risk again.
He gets up in my face, stands toe to toe with me, his jaw set, shoulders strung tight with anger. “Need to fuckin’ talk to you, brother.”
I shove Princess behind me, only she’s not so fuckin’ happy about being hidden. She pulls the piece I confiscated from her out from the back of my jeans and turns it on Tank.
Tank stands with his arms folded across his chest. He doesn’t flinch as she levels the gun on his face.
“Bitch, are you fuckin’ crazy?”
“He let this happen,” she screams, and Jesus fucking Christ I’ve never wanted to flatten a woman so bad in my life. She has no fuckin’ respect for her own self-preservation, yelling like a fucking banshee in the parking lot of a MC than wants to see her pretty insides on the outside.
“Then so did fuckin’ I,” I shout back, getting in her face and forcing her watery gaze up to mine. I wrestle the gun from her. “Trust me when I say Tank is the only reason you’re still standing here in this fuckin’ car park, yellin’ about shit you have no right to yell about.”
“He’s the one that took me,” she spits. All at once, my ears start to ring, and the hairs on my neck stand up all fuckin’ straight and tall.
“That true?” I ask Tank, weighing the gun in my hand.
His gaze narrows. “I was followin’ orders.”
God. I want so badly to beat his fuckin’ head in right now. I wanna unload an entire clip into his chest, because he knew. At the rally, he knew about her. He fuckin’ had to in order for Prez to give the order before he got arrested. That was why Tank was nowhere to be seen when the shit hit the fan—he was layin’ in fuckin’ wait for her.
Kick Page 18