Captured: Hunted Love #3

by Aden Lowe

  "Doing okay, boss?" Hack's quiet question to Kellen caught the attention of the others.

  "Yeah, man, think I ate something that didn't agree with me. No biggie. I'm good now." A moment of weakness pointed out to the other men was not cool. He'd have to talk to Hack about that later. Bastard was doing that sort of thing more and more often lately. "Okay, listen up. The Red Demons rolled out this morning. Their part of this job is finished, so we don't have to worry with them stabbing us in the back anymore. At least for now. We have the rest of today to kick back a little. Tomorrow we start watching for our target to show up. We're supposed to have company coming, so just make sure you get some shut-eye and be ready for a long day coming up."

  Whoops and grins of anticipation told how glad the men were to host female guests. Kellen chose a log someone had brought close to the fire and sat to watch the preparations. The younger men took the time to wash off the dirt they'd accumulated during the long day. The two old-timers didn't bother. Hack and Trip, returned from the decorative pond the men had turned into an impromptu bathtub and fired up Blackwell's big fancy grill.

  Movement up by the house caught his eye, and Kellen watch as the golf cart headed their way. Before he left Blackwell's fancy hunting lodge, he fully intended to fuck up the wiring in the son of a bitch in defense of wheeled vehicles the world over. But for the time being, he watched it approach. This time, someone sat in the front with Blackwell.

  Kellen rose to await their arrival. Fully aware of the old adage that intimidation was the biggest part of any battle, he slid the .45 semi-auto from its home on his hip and made a show of checking the loads. The magazine clicked home as the whirring electric motor whined to a halt, and when Blackwell's fancy boots hit the ground, Kellen chambered a round.

  Fuck. His weasel little brother climbed out behind the rich bastard. That kid had been nothing but a thorn in Kellen's side since the day his whore mother announced she was having another kid. With his old man pulling a long hitch in prison and her cheating revealed, the bitch dumped Kellen off with the neighbor and ran off with the other man.

  When the kid turned eighteen, he tracked Kellen down and wanted to bond or some shit like that. Kellen had no interest in Drew, weak little bastard for all those fake muscles. He'd have written him off right away, except the kid had some powerful connections, ones that Kellen found useful for a time. Pissy thing was, Drew acted like Blackwell was the crown jewel in those connections. To Kellen, that fucker was more like the village idiot, not a connection to be proud of.

  Blackwell still wore his wannabe garb, complete with Sons of Anarchy patches for his own fucking charter. Kellen still couldn't decide if the bastard actually thought that shit was for real, or if someone had used it to take notes and brief him on outlaw MCs, or what. Hell, it could even be a joke for all he knew.

  Drew came up beside Blackwell, dressed a little more realistically. Except the patches on the front of his cut looked familiar. Rage built in a slow burn, increasing with every step the kid took.

  "Hey, Big Brother, 'sup, man?" Drew swaggered up as if he owned the place.

  "Turn around, kid, let me look at you."

  Drew shrugged his big shoulders with the sprayed on tan and turned in a lazy circle. Finally, he faced Kellen with an insolent grin. "Like what you see, Brother?"

  Kellen clenched his fists. "Take that cut off."

  "What?" A confused frown crossed the carefully manicured face.

  "You heard me. Take the fucking cut off."

  Understanding dawned. "Oh, you mean my vest? You like it?" He slid the cut off, making a big show of holding it for Kellen to see.

  A reddish haze blurred Kellen's vision, but not so much that he couldn't clearly see the full Hell Raiders patch on the back of that cut. His fist flashed out to meet his half-brother's jaw.

  Drew collapsed in a heap at Kellen's feet while Blackwell looked on in astonishment. Kellen grabbed the fake cut and used his belt knife to cut off the Raiders patches. "You, mother fucker, are most certainly not a Hell Raider. You have no right to wear this patch." He spat on the kid. "You no longer exist." He turned to Blackwell. "Your genius plan was taken care of. I suggest you start delivering on the beer, food and pussy right away. My boys are fired up and they won't be patient for long."

  Still furious, he stalked away to throw the fake patches into the fire. Of all the idiotic things the kid could do, that was absolutely the worst. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Blackwell bending to help his useless half-brother to his feet. Something about the physical dynamic between the two caught his attention, and he turned to watch.

  Blackwell kept touching Drew, tipping his head to look at the livid mark Kellen's fist left, then took his arm to help him walk. Huh. Fuckers were gay.

  Kellen shook his head and grabbed another beer as the golf cart whirred to life and headed back to the house. He called Hack over. "Supposed to have company coming. I want it all wrapped up by two a.m. and the boys ready to ride by seven. We have a lot of ground to cover and I'm not letting Barger slip through my fingers."

  "Yeah, boss. Consider it done."

  Satisfied his orders would be carried out, Kellen stalked away, still furious with Drew. He needed to talk to Vicky, clear his head.

  Chapter Seventeen: Jakob

  The pale light of a clear dawn woke Jakob slowly, while outside, the birds set up cacophony of early morning socializing. He kept his eyes closed to better experience the warm satin of Kate's skin, her breath on his neck, and the scent of her hair. Such a huge departure from anything he'd dreamed his life might hold. The realization he'd rather die than lose her hit without warning, powerful as a kick to the gut from Ajax.

  An urge to keep her right there in her bed, and let someone else deal with the crime against her horses, tightened his belly with foreboding. It was nothing he could put his finger on, completely illogical. And yet, similar gut feelings had kept him alive more than once.

  Beside him, Kate stirred and gave a little moan, as if she'd rather stay asleep in his arms than face the day. Nothing would make him happier. Her thigh brushed his morning hard-on, giving him a great idea for how to keep her in bed longer.

  His fingers skimmed over her shoulder and down her spine, causing her eyelashes to flutter and a slow smile to spread across her very kissable lips. "Mmm. Good morning."

  "Morning, beautiful." He drew her closer and let his lips brush across her forehead. With his other hand, he pulled her knee up to bring her thigh to rest across his groin.

  "Someone's in a good mood." She moved her leg a little, exerting just the right pressure.

  His hips rolled to gain more contact. "Very good. Could be even better, though."

  She smiled again. "Is that so? And what would make it better? This maybe?" A quick move landed her atop him.

  "Oh, fuck!" His hands found her hips and lifted her to the perfect angle. "Yeah, this, definitely this."

  She pushed down, taking him into her with a moan. She rose above him, tempting his hands to slide up the curve of her waist and up her ribs to cup her breasts. Strong silken muscles gripped him as he let her set the pace. Slow and sensual seemed to be her preference for the moment. She dropped her hands to his chest, fingers teasing and exploring, until she reached his nipples and paused to tease.

  Driven beyond his ability to be patient, he rolled to flip her under him with a growl. She moaned, clinging, and pushed him over the edge. He lost himself in her heat as the world fell away.

  Jakob and the others listened closely over breakfast as Kate went over everything she knew about Alexander Blackwell and his business.

  The coffee cup thudded on the table. "I just don't get what he thinks he'll gain by hurting my horses. I'm sure as hell a lot less likely to marry him after that."

  Rita shook her head and pushed her plate away. "If anything, he should have common sense enough to know that would make you hate him."

  "He's so blinded by greed, I don't think he has any common sense
, if he ever did to begin with. You know, he's never actually made an offer on my land. I wouldn't sell anyway, but, isn't that the usual way to go about getting land?"

  Jakob laughed and took his and Kate's plates to the sink. "Unless you're a jerk who thinks you can get it by force, yeah, I think that's the normal thing to do." He barely managed to hide the tremor in his hands. Better get a handle on his anger if he intended to be of any use out there. Still, any man trying to force his woman to do anything, especially at the expense of innocent animals, was just too much. Plus, the very idea of a man thinking he could just make a woman marry him to get her land ratcheted his mad up another notch.

  "So what's our plan? We can't just ride out there and shoot the dude, right?" Rita headed for the sink with the rest of the dishes.

  Kate sighed. "I guess not. I'm not sure what to do."

  "Well, we can't go in without any ideas, at least." Jakob sat and laid his arm across the back of Kate's chair. "And we'll have to have proof he ordered it."

  Falon nodded. "So how do we get that?"

  "The boys said the ATV tracks lead right toward his fancy hunting lodge. Isn't that enough?"

  "No, he'd likely just say someone set him up. What we need is either one of the people who did it, or proof he supplied the ATVs or gave the orders." Falon scowled. "I'm thinking once we're close, Jakob and I need to move in on foot, under cover, and see what we can find out."

  The idea made sense. Jakob nodded. "Agreed."

  They spent a few more minutes elaborating on the initial plan and cleaning up breakfast. One final check of the house, and they filed out, Kate in the lead and headed for the barn. The beat up old work truck threatened to not start, but she kept at it and the old engine finally roared to life. They piled their gear in the back and Jakob swung up into the bed to sit on the side and Falon followed suit.

  The barn was already a hive of activity as the hands made final preparations for them to ride out, along with getting the normal day for the horses started. Kate parked the truck and started things rolling before her feet hit the ground, requesting the horses she'd selected for the trip.

  Jakob wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of the Kate's determined anger. If Alexander Blackwell turned out to be responsible for harming her horses, he would regret it. Kate oversaw the rest of the preparations, from the horses' breakfast to the saddles to be used.

  Finally, the horses stood waiting to be saddled while she moved from one to the next, running her hands over legs, lifting hooves, inspecting every detail. When Ajax's turn came, he flicked an ear, but otherwise allowed the checkup. Any other person, Jakob included, he'd have bitten or at least tried to kick in a little show of defiance. Apparently he liked Kate as much as Jakob did.

  As soon as she finished and gave the word, the saddles went on, then more last minute inspections, and they rode out. Amid the noise and hustle of the horses finding their pace and getting everything sorted out, Jakob allowed himself to relish the sight of Kate in her element. Nothing could stop that woman once she had a goal. No doubt she approached ranching, and competition, with that same frightening focus. He couldn't wait to get to know more about her.

  Ajax hustled impatiently to get to the head of the little column, but Jakob held him back. For one, it was Kate's place to lead. For another, he really liked watching her ass move in that saddle. The thought brought a chilling sense of déjà vu and shocked him back to reality.

  Their plan made him nervous. They couldn't just ride into Blackwell's yard and call him out. Could they? What he knew of Kate said they very well might end up doing exactly that. Keeping her on task with any sort of plan might prove difficult, given the circumstances.

  Ajax came up beside the gelding she rode and bared his teeth, automatically resenting the other male. Figured. The bastard never did play well with other boys, whether they had balls or not.

  Kate's horse shied away, wary of being bitten, and she forced him back under control. "You ready for this?" Her grim tone made it seem as if they were riding into something far worse than anything he'd seen before.

  The smile that tried to force its way to the surface made his lips twitch. "I'm ready. More than ready." The familiar rush started to build in his belly, quickening his pulse a notch. The hunt was on.

  Chapter Eighteen: Kellen

  Kellen rolled out of his blanket after a restless night. Every time he managed to get to sleep, he fell into dreams haunted by horses, dead horses, chasing him, seeking vengeance. Not a fun way to spend a night. That all meant the day started off with a pissy badass mood; a dangerous state for someone like him. He could just as easily kill a bastard as look at him. For the millionth time, he refused to let himself dwell on wishing he'd never taken this stupid job. No time to waste with regrets.

  Kicking Hack's hungover ass off the bitch he'd passed out fucking provided a slight diversion. The woman didn't even move, just lay there spread out for all to see. Kellen shook his head in disgust and threw Hack's blanket over the gaping shit. Enough to make a man lose his breakfast. That bastard had no standards whatsoever.

  Hack growled a little and searched for his keys with the pill bottle keychain. The metal container was intended for lifesaving medicines for heart patients and such, but like a lot of pill heads, Hack used it for a different kind of emergency medicine. The unsuccessful search turned into an outright tantrum, cursing and throwing things.

  "Ease up, man. It's here somewhere." Out of patience for a raging addict, Kellen stalked away. It might be time to call a vote for a new VP. They needed someone who could think past the next pill. If something happened to him, Hack would let it all fall apart, all for a handful of thirties.

  At least the rest of them had been coherent enough to climb off whatever they'd fucked last. Kellen gave them a minute to stretch and piss. "Listen up." The men froze, wary. "You got thirty minutes. I want everybody ready to roll, and all these bitches gone." Kellen forced himself to walk away before he kicked somebody's ass.

  Should have made them kick everybody out by dark so they'd be ready to go. Damn waste of time, and while they were stumbling around half asleep and hung over, Barger was headed their way. Beyond that, if a Raider let a detail or two slip to one of these girls, and then pissed her off, they were screwed. None of those women owed the club any loyalty, and he couldn't expect they'd keep their mouths shut. The Raiders all knew to keep it shut, but after a few beers, guys tended to brag.

  Finally, they were all saddled up and ready to go, on the damn ATVs again. None of them liked that part of this job, but their custom street bikes weren't exactly suited to rough terrain. He'd committed them to the job, so they were kind of stuck with the whole situation, rough terrain and four-wheelers included.

  After five minutes on the trail, Kellen had enough of that bone-jarring country to last him a lifetime. Wouldn't bother him a bit if he never saw anything but asphalt under his tires for the rest of his life. If he wanted to go off the road, he'd fucking walk. And off-road for him would be the lush wooded hills back home.

  Over an hour later, the first Hell Raider split off from the column to head for his assigned post, and the others followed in succession. Finally, Kellen reached his own post and settled in for a long wait. They were probably hours ahead of Barger, maybe as much as a day. The men weren't happy about the possibility of spending the night squatted down where they were, but they would just have to suck it up. Kellen wasn't going to take the chance of missing Barger during the night or early morning just because the Raiders would rather have a nice camp.

  For himself, Kellen had a new paperback waiting in his pack, ready for downtime when he needed to preserve his phone's battery. Passing the time alone would pose him no hardship at all. He could do without the questioning looks from the others. What the hell was wrong with him these days? Talking club business with a woman? Ditching parties? They all knew something was up with him and wanted to know.

  They could join the damn club. He wanted to know too,
so he could fix it fast. He'd always been a bit of a loner, different from the other guys in a way, but this was totally out of character. Screw it. Pissy-ass moods wasted time. Reading was far more productive. He lost himself in the expansion of the Roman Empire, fascinated with the warfare of the time and the enduring infrastructures that carried the Roman war machine. Every few moments, he surfaced from ancient history and rose to scan Blackwell's boundary with Kate Holt, watching for Barger.

  The morning passed peacefully that way, and Kellen took a break from the battles into Germania to have lunch. Sandwich and bottled water gone, he got up for a walk to stretch his legs, careful to stay where he could see the area he watched. If he gave Barger a chance to get close, the bastard would shoot him in the back. No, he had to keep the advantage.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! A series of gunshots bounced around the rocky terrain. He froze.

  Damn. No sign of Barger. That meant he and the Holt woman had crossed onto Blackwell land somewhere else, rather than on the trail the Raiders used to return from chasing the horses. And one of Raiders had screwed up and started the party without hailing the rest. No further sounds likely meant that Raider was down, too, and Barger knew an ambush had been set.

  Kellen covered the ground between him and the ATV like an Olympic hurdler going for the Gold. The damn radio was all chatter, all the Raiders talking at once and walking all over each other, so he couldn't tell a damn thing about what had happened. Temptation to yell into the radio for them to all shut the fuck up hit pretty hard, but logic won out. If he contributed to the melee, he would have to wait that much longer to find out where the shots came from.

  He settled for keying the radio a few times, sending a series of clicks over the air to warn the Raiders to silence. Finally, it cleared. "I want one man to tell me what the hell happened."