Inking Eagle (Charon MC Trilogy Book 1)

by Khloe Wren

  “If I go with you to get this bag, you’ll take what you believe is yours and the rest is mine to keep? You’ll let me go?”

  He shrugged one shoulder in an elegant manner. “That depends on what we find. We may need your help for a little longer. We suspect he put our belongings in a safe deposit box and we hope the key will be in the bag. If that’s the case, we’ll have need of your services to retrieve that box. Then, you will be free to go with the remainder of your father’s belongings.”

  I frowned at him. “How can I trust you?”

  “If I meant you harm, I would have done so already, my dear. I have no desire to hurt you. Your father is dead, he paid for his crimes against my family. My family is not seeking further payment for what he did, I simply want what is mine, returned to me. That is all.”

  I spoke softly, not sure whether I truly believed him that I would walk away unharmed from all this. “If you really want this to end peacefully, you need to let me call my uncle. The club will come for me and it won’t end well if they believe I’m going to be harmed.”

  He stood and folded the chair. “I’ve already contacted your uncle. How he chooses to proceed is his choice, but some pissant southern MC is no threat to us. If they come, we will deal with them appropriately. I’ll leave you to eat in peace. We’ll be heading to the airport in about thirty minutes.”

  With that parting statement he left me alone to ponder what the hell was going to happen with the rest of my day. The fact rape and torture didn’t look like it was going to be a part of it was certainly a huge relief. But I still had my doubts if I’d remain unharmed once Antonio had whatever he wanted out of that bag.

  Chapter 6

  Eagle

  I was standing at the counter of the little truck stop we’d stopped off at to fill up, waiting to pay when Bulldog came storming in, cursing and growling before he called me over. I handed Mac some cash to pay for my fuel before I headed after Bulldog.

  “What’s happened?”

  “See for yourself.”

  He handed me his phone and I swiped the screen to bring up an image I was certain I’d never forget.

  “Fuckin’ hell.”

  Silk lay unconscious on a hotel bed. I zoomed in on her fully clothed form, and couldn’t see any injuries.

  “She looks physically unharmed.”

  “Read the message.”

  I closed the image and focused on the text of the email.

  I will return her unharmed in thirty-six hours. She was given a sedative, and is safe. I vow she will remain that way. Her father paid for his sins. I have no need to extract payment from his daughter. I will email again with an address for you to collect her from when she is ready to go.

  It was signed off by Antonio Sabella. Mac came out and stood beside me, I handed the phone over for him to have a look.

  “You know who this fucker is, Mac?”

  Bulldog was pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. He looked on edge and I worried he was going to blow our chances of getting Silk back by doing something stupid.

  “Yeah, he’s high up in the family. One of the few left with some real power behind him. He’s also old school. If he says Silk won’t come to harm, then she won’t. At least for so long as he’s in charge.”

  Scout, Nitro and Taz all came over to join our little meeting. It was just the six of us that had headed out to get Silk back. The whole club was on alert to be called in, but I agreed with Scout when he decided to go with a stealth plan to slip in and take her back. Taking an entire MC all riding loud Harleys into any situation was anything but quiet.

  Bulldog moved to stand in front of Mac. “You got any idea on where this fucker would be holding her?”

  Mac shook his head. “I got a couple distant relatives involved on the fringes of the mob, no one in the inner circle that would know where Sabella lives. I can put money on her not still being in the room in that photo. Did you look at the window over the bed? The landscape is rural Texas. Not L.A. I’d say he took this photo when they stopped to rest for a few hours. Even if we did, by some fluke, know where this hotel was, they’d be long gone by the time we got to it. Our best bet is still at the airport.”

  Scout nodded and looked to me then Bulldog. “We’re nearly in Palm Springs. We’ll find a hotel and crash there for a few hours before we continue on to L.A. The photo shows they’ve stopped somewhere for at least a few hours.”

  It was a twenty-three hour drive between Bridgewater and Los Angeles. No matter how comfortable your car or bike was, you had to stop for a few hours at least once, on top of shorter breaks to stretch your legs. Palm Springs was only about one and a half hours away from LAX, so with an early start, we’d be at the airport before breakfast. Hopefully before Antonio got there with his crew.

  “I’ll make some calls when we stop, see if anyone has heard anything new.”

  As Mac spoke, I held my palm out for the phone. As soon as I had it, I went looking for the time stamp on the email.

  “This came in eight hours ago. They either stopped somewhere for the night, and aren’t in L.A. yet, or they did what we’re doing. Crashed for a couple of hours, then kept moving. In which case they’d already be there.”

  Mac gripped my shoulder. “TSA shuts down the lost and found at four-thirty. It won’t reopen until eight in the morning. We’ve got time for a short nap. Plus, if we’re all riding on no sleep we’re more likely to fuck up this rescue.”

  I clenched my jaw, knowing he was right but not liking it one fucking bit.

  “Yeah, I hear you.”

  No one said another word as we headed back to our bikes and took off towards Palm Springs. The entire way my mind couldn’t shake that photo of Silk out cold on some fucking hotel bed. If those bastards hurt her, I was going to use every skill I’d learned in the military to rain down hell on all their asses.

  By the time we arrived and Scout arranged some rooms for us, I was ready to climb the fucking walls. I had no idea how I going to try to get any sleep. Silk was in trouble, which made this personal. Not like over in Middle East. That was fighting for our country and our freedom. Getting Silk back was me fighting for my own future, my fucking heart and soul were on the line this time. For the first time.

  My phone buzzing had me pausing my pacing to pull it free. Mac and Taz, who were sharing this piece of shit hotel room with me went silent. There were limited people who had my number, all but a few were here with me. ‘Private Number’ flashed on the screen and I figured it could be one of two people–either the FBI or Silk’s captors. Although, considering they’d already contacted Bulldog, it was a safer bet to assume it was the FBI.

  With a deep breath I answered the call.

  “Who is this?”

  “You alone?”

  Yep, their current handler at the FBI. Mr. Smith, which was so not the man’s real fucking name, not that I gave a shit what his real one was.

  “Just me, Jacob and Donovan. You got anything for us?”

  The FBI didn’t do road names. They liked to use peoples real ones, which was a fucking joke since none of them went by their birth names.

  I knew Taz had contacted him earlier before Silk had been taken, but I wasn’t sure if he’d contacted him again afterward.

  “We need you to let this play out.”

  Fury roared through me. “No fucking way will I leave her to the mob’s mercy any longer than I have to.”

  Mr. Smith sighed like he was dealing with a stubborn toddler, which only served to raise my temper further.

  “Listen, Colt, we’ve got eyes on her. If it gets too hot we’ll pull her out, but it’s important we get whatever it is her father had. This is bigger than the Charons. The mob has been laying low in L.A. for over a decade but we all know shit’s going on behind the scenes. Getting our hands on leverage against Sabella and his boys is a higher priority than keeping your latest favorite toy protected.”

  “Claudine is no toy, and if she gets hurt and I find out you
bastards could have prevented it, it’ll be the last time any of us help your sorry asses. Are we clear?”

  I wanted to threaten I’d come after him, but only a fool said shit like that to a government agent. Didn’t change the fact that I would, in fact, hunt him down if Silk got hurt. He just didn’t need to be told about it.

  Silk

  I nervously sat in the rear of a completely clichéd black stretch limo flicking my thumbnail against the underside of the tip of my forefinger. The small noise it made helped keep me from panicking. So far Antonio had stayed true to his word, and I’d not been harmed in any way. In fact, after I ate, he’d returned and showed me to a fancy bathroom. There was a clean change of clothes for me and I was able to lock myself in and freshen up. There had been blood streaked down the lower part of my jeans on one side. I had no clue where it had come from–the fact it wasn’t mine was all I’d cared about.

  Logically, I understood Antonio couldn’t drag a bleeding, broken woman through LAX to get a bag from lost and found. Especially one that was fifteen years old. That meant I trusted him to not hurt me until after I retrieved that damn bag of my father’s. But then what? He was a fucking gangster, for crying out loud. My only knowledge about the mob was from the news and movies, so it wasn’t a whole hell of a lot, but I don’t recall mobsters ever leaving people behind to testify against them.

  Feeling a gaze on me, I looked toward the front of the vehicle and found the man who’d grabbed me was now driving. I tensed with a wince under his hate filled glare. Yeah, that one meant me harm in a big way. I risked a glance at Antonio who was seated beside me.

  “Don’t worry about him. He’s pissy that your boy shot him. Twice.”

  He didn’t look like he’d been shot, but I wasn’t exactly an expert since I’d never had a bullet wound. “Should he be driving then?”

  Antonio’s laughter was deep and rich. It actually sounded sexy, despite the fact the man had to be nearly sixty. But I refused to entertain those thoughts for even a moment.

  “That is the reason he’s driving. And we’re in the limo, which is automatic. His right calf and thigh both took a bullet.” He waved a hand through the air. “Only flesh wounds, but he doesn’t look all that threatening by my side hobbling around with a crutch. You see, my dear girl, most of this life is all illusion. You look tough, people leave you alone. Of course, it also helps if people also know that you can, and will, take out your enemies. But if you look like a scared rabbit, you’ll attract the wrong kind of attention. Every time.”

  I winced again. I’d thought I’d been doing an okay job at hiding my fear. “Sorry if I can’t look all cool and collected for you, but it’s not every day I get kidnapped and shipped halfway across the country to have who knows what done to me.”

  “I’ve promised you will not be harmed, I’ve shown you nothing but kindness. What can I do to put you at ease before we arrive at the airport? Police will be called if you look like a frightened mouse being chased by a tom-cat when we arrive at the unclaimed baggage desk. I imagine it’s going to cause a stir that you’ve arrived to claim so close to the anniversary of his death at any rate. However, I am hopeful we can be gone before reporters have time to arrive.”

  I try to think of something, but can’t. “Aside from finding myself safely back home, alone, I can’t think of anything you can do or say that will make me believe I’m going to walk away from this.”

  He huffed a breath and ran a hand carefully over his slicked-back hair, the sun coming in from the window catching on the huge hunk of gold resting on his ring finger.

  “How about some logic, then? Dead bodies are a pain in the ass to deal with. Back in the day, it wasn’t a problem because we had the contacts to cover that shit up. Now? We share those contacts with the Russians and the Triads. Either of those groups would love to have something over us, like the location of a dead girl that can be pinned on us. And those contacts are fueled by money–no fucking loyalty anymore. It’s all about who pays better. Thanks to your father, that hasn’t been us for some time now.”

  “And if whatever we find in this bag makes it so you are the highest bidder? What then? I find myself at the bottom of the ocean with concrete shoes?”

  He laughed again, but this time my fear didn’t allow it to affect me at all.

  “You watch too much TV, my dear. Your father wronged us, and if he were still alive, it is true that we would make him pay for it. But he died, in a nasty way, where he no doubt knew what was coming but could do nothing to stop it. He got what he deserved. You, on the other hand, were a child and had no hand in what he did. I regret we’ve had to involve you at all, but the TSA would not release the bag to us without your help.”

  The thought of my parents sitting on that plane watching it head straight for the south tower, knowing they would die, had my stomach roiling. Bile began to rise up my throat.

  “Stop the car!”

  Antonio nodded to the driver and the moment the car stopped, I shoved the door open. Falling to my knees I threw up my breakfast on the side of the road while grief tore at my heart and tears burned my eyes. Would it ever get better? Stop hurting so fucking much? This was why I ran away every year. Even fifteen years later, the country was obsessed with that one fucking terror attack. I just wanted it to go away, to not be harshly reminded every fucking twelve months how brutally my family was ripped away from me.

  Feeling empty and broken, I slumped back away from the mess I’d made, leaning against the car. Somewhere deep inside I considered I’d just wasted a perfectly good chance to try to escape. Wiping my eyes clear I looked around and saw that we’d stopped on the side of the highway. There was nowhere for me to run that they wouldn’t have caught me, or shot me. Even if my legs hadn’t turned to rubber with all my churning emotions.

  “I am sorry to have upset you. It wasn’t my intention.”

  I grabbed the bottle of water Antonio held in front of me. Took a gulp to swish around my mouth before I spat it out, then took a long drink that eased my sore throat.

  “I don’t like talking about it. I normally go off the grid for a week or so around the anniversary each year. So, you may not wish to physically harm me, but trust me, you’re hurting me plenty by preventing me from doing that this year.”

  I dragged myself up off the ground and turned to the open car door. “Let’s just go get this fucking bag so I can get the hell out of here.”

  Antonio didn’t say a word but I could feel the heavy weight of his stare as I climbed in the limo and settled back in my seat. Silently, I continued to sip at my bottle of water. All my energy and will to fight left me with my breakfast, and now I just wanted this whole ordeal done with. I didn’t care if I lived or died at the end of it. Not anymore. All I wanted was it to be over.

  Closing my eyes, I rested my forehead against the cool glass of the window. I didn’t want to talk or think about anything. Antonio seemed to get that and he didn’t say another word until we arrived at the airport.

  When the car slid to a stop and Antonio got out, I waited for him to motion toward me before I moved. He handed me my handbag and I slung the strap over my head so it hung against my hip with the strap across my body.

  “We’re looking after your phone, but all your other things are in there. You’ll need your ID to get the bag.”

  I nodded silently, figuring the best way to help this all be over quickly was to do what I was told without making a fuss. I was blissfully numb inside as I walked beside Antonio, with three of his goons surrounding us as we crossed the interior of the airport, heading past all the baggage carousels. I was scanning over all the tired people waiting for their stuff when I saw him. At the end of a turning carousel, Mac stood calm as could be, staring at the passing bags casually, like all of the other people around him. My heart rate kicked up when he lifted his gaze to me briefly. To a bystander, it would look like he was just another bored traveler looking around. But I could see the hard glint in his eye–he was here
for me. It took everything in me to keep my expression blank, to not start searching the room for Eagle or my uncle. Because if Mac was here, he wouldn’t be here alone. The club had come. Somehow, they’d worked out what Antonio was playing at.

  By the time we stood at the unclaimed baggage counter, my nerves were getting the best of me. Not knowing what the club’s plan was, but knowing they had to have one was messing with my head.

  “Ma’am? Are you alright?”

  The young man behind the counter eyed Antonio and his goons like he could do something about it if I said they were holding me hostage.

  “I’m just a little overwhelmed, that’s all. A reporter spoke to me the other day and told me you had a bag here that belonged to my father. He was on the United Airlines Flight 175 on 9/11. Apparently his checked bag didn’t make the flight?”

  That got the man’s full attention.

  “I’ll need to check to see if that’s correct. We did find a few bags that missed that flight when we did a cleanup a few weeks back. What was your father’s name?”

  “John Bennett. My name is Claudine Bennett, his daughter.”

  He gave me a small smile. “If I can see some ID, I’ll go check the bags for his name.”

  After showing him my driver’s license, he nodded, then headed off. As he walked away, I gripped the edge of the counter until my fingers turned white, my previous numbness completely gone now. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. I wanted to turn and scan the area around me for a familiar face, but I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t risk giving away that I knew they were here. Fuck.

  The TSA guy returned and my eyes caught on what he was carrying. It was my dad’s favorite bag. The one he always took with him when he traveled. The sight of the scuffed up faded black material had my mind reeling with memories.

  And my stomach churned.

  “Oh, God. I’m gonna be sick.”