We did some weird things to pass the time when we were kids, but didn’t all kids? As long as these guys didn’t hurt me, I was pretty confident I could get out of whatever they threw at me.
I just needed to stay calm, and everything would be just fine.
They whisked me right up a private elevator that led straight into the penthouse suite of the hotel, with Sergio’s goon holding me tightly the entire time.
“Where’s my bike?” I asked Sergio once we were in the room.
“Don’t you worry, little rebellious one. Your bike is fine. You’ll be fine, too, as long as you cooperate with me. If you do as I say, you’ll be back with your motorcycle riding gangster family before you know it.”
“Well what the fuck is going on? Let me fucking out of here!”
“All in good time, little one. In the meantime, why don’t you enjoy this luxurious suite? I’m sure someone like you…,” his voice held complete disdain for me, and he looked me up and down with contempt in his eyes, “has never had the opportunity to see such a nice place.”
He was right, but I wasn’t about to let him know it.
“Fuck you and your luxury suite, you’re nothing but a glorified drug dealer and when my brother finds out you’ve got me here he’s going to do a lot more than take your fucking drugs, you moron!” I was screaming, crying, fear kicking in hard as I yelled at him, my voice shaking, despite my best efforts to control it.
He laughed at me and turned away.
“Sit down,” Sergio’s goon pushed me down onto a white silk couch, towering over me while I rubbed my bruised arm.
“I’m going to make a few calls. Keep an eye on her. But remember - don’t hurt her. We need her safe and alive,” Sergio said.
“Sí, jefe.” He sat on the couch next to me, folding his arms and settling in while Sergio walked down the hallway, his voice fading as he stepped into a back bedroom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Mason
I left the clubhouse at five in the afternoon, fighting rush-hour traffic before I finally made it home thirty minutes later. I was so happy everything went so well with the cartel and even more happy that Harley seemed to have come to some sort of acceptance when it came to Rebel and me.
I still didn’t know how our lives would look with her in it, but I was excited to find out. I had never wanted a relationship with a woman, in fact, it was the last thing I was interested in. But something about the way Rebel made me feel had changed everything whether I liked it or not.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her all day. Harley had decided to go home at the same time I did. He wanted to spend the evening with Rebel, trying to make some amends with her and help her get on her feet.
I easily could have moved her into my place, but that wouldn’t be the best thing for Rebel. She was young, and she still needed to experience living on her own, and taking care of herself. I was looking forward to watching her grow, and spending as much time with her as I could.
I took a shower when I returned home, and just as I was drying off I heard my cell phone ringing. Hoping it was Rebel, I ran down the hallway to catch it before it went to voice mail.
It was Harley.
“Hey Harley,” I answered.
“They’ve got Rebel.” He sounded frantic and his voice was full of worry.
“What? What are you talking about? Who has her?” “The fucking Garcia cartel. I don’t know how, but they’ve got her. I got home and there’s a note stuck to the seat of her bike with a fucking switchblade right in the middle of it.”
“A note? What does it say?” My legs trembled, and my anger rose. If they hurt Rebel, I would kill them.
“It says, ‘The girl for the drugs’.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Yeah. What are we going to do, Mason?”
“I’m on my way. Stay put.”
“Alright. Hurry the fuck up. I will kill those motherfuckers if they hurt her!”
“Try to stay calm. If there’s any killing to be done, I’ll fucking do it. She’s going to be okay. I’ll be right there.”
I hung up the phone, dressed, and was roaring down the street in two minutes flat.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Harley
By the time Mason arrived, I was sick with worry. And I still had no answers as to how Rebel ended up with them.
I called Sergio right after I called Mason, and he answered right away.
“Hola, Harley! I was expecting to hear from you!”
“You motherfucker! If you hurt my sister, I will fucking cut your cock off and stuff it in your mouth after I rip your tongue out!”
“Oh, now, now, Harley. I thought we were friends? I wouldn’t think to hurt your little hellion of a sister. She’s quite frisky, isn’t she? I’m surprised you want her back, to tell you the truth. But obviously, you do. And I’ll be very happy to return her to you safe and sound. But, since we do have a business relationship, I’m going to need those drugs back. As you know, they’re worth a hell of a lot of money. I just can’t afford to part with them. And now that I have something you want, well why not? Surely, you understand, yes, mi amigo?”
“Fine, whatever. Where the fuck is my sister?”
“I will tell you where she is as soon as I have my product back, mi amigo.”
“Fine, where do you want to meet?”
“Well, just to make things easy, let’s meet at the same warehouse we were at this morning, shall we?”
“When?” “How about at ten tonight?”
“Fine, but if you hurt Rebel, I will fuck you up so bad. I’m not kidding, Sergio. You’d best not fuck with me.”
“Now, now, mi amigo. Let’s keep this cordial, shall we? No need for anger. As long as you don’t cause any trouble, I’ll take care of your precious sister, I promise.”
“Ten p.m. See you then.” I hung up the phone right as Mason barreled through my front door.
I had never seen a man so ravaged with worry. His grimace was drawn tightly across his face and he was heaving with anger.
“What the fuck, man!” he yelled.
“I just talked to Sergio. I have no idea how they got her, I came home and her bike was in the driveway with the note on it. I called Sergio, and he wants to trade Rebel for the drugs.”
“That motherfucker. Of course he does. I’m going to fucking rip his head off!” he yelled again.
“Look, try to calm down. I’m worried, too. But Sergio wouldn’t hurt her. He’s not that stupid. I’d kill him and his entire cartel and he knows it. If we have to give the drugs back to get Rebel, then fine, whatever.”
“Fine, so let’s go.”
“Not till ten p.m. He’s meeting us at the warehouse. Let’s call everyone back to the clubhouse, we’ll make a plan, get the drugs and get to the warehouse on time.”
“How did they even get her? How did they know where you live?”
“I don’t know, man. I can’t believe how fucked up this is. All I wanted to do was keep Rebel out of this life, and now she’s so deep in it, I just - just - I can’t even fucking think about it. We gotta get her the fuck outta there.”
“Motherfucker!” Mason yelled again.
“I know, bro, I know. She’s going to be okay, I promise. Let’s get to the clubhouse,” I said.
Mason agreed and we hoped on our bikes after calling Maverick and filling him in, instructing him to get everyone back to the clubhouse to meet us.
As I roared down the highway on the way back to the clubhouse, I had never felt so much worry for Rebel. She was good at getting herself in trouble, but it was never anything like this. This danger was real.
Mason sped down the highway in front of me, his bike weaving in and out of traffic dangerously, and I knew he was seeing red. If I had left Rebel at Mason’s house, she probably would have been safer. They wouldn’t have looked for her there. I should have known that Sergio would seek revenge after I humiliated him so badly in front of his own men.
&n
bsp; What the fuck had I been thinking to not have the family on lockdown in the clubhouse during such a dangerous time?
Instead, we were celebrating like a bunch of fucking idiots.
I thought of my father, knowing that if he were there, his eyes would be full of deep disappointment that I had put Rebel in such a dangerous situation.
I could only hope Rebel didn’t do anything stupid to make the situation any worse. And even more importantly, I could only hope she would forgive me for being the worst brother in the whole goddamned world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Rebel
“I have to pee.” I told the goon sitting next to me.
He ignored me, his eyes glued to the television in front of us. I nudged him.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Jorge.” He replied, staring straight ahead.
“Well, Jorge, I have to pee.” I stood up, and that caught his attention finally.
“You were peeing when we found you.”
“Yeah, well. I drank a lot of water, and you guys are scaring the piss out of me, so unless you want me to piss on this pristine white silk couch, then you’ll show me to the bathroom.”
The penthouse was practically a fortress. The only way in and out was the fucking elevator and that made a loud ding every time it opened, so sneaking out without being noticed was not going to happen. I was hoping if I could take a look at the bathroom, I could at least find something to incapacitate this guy.
Sergio had left the penthouse after a few minutes of making phone calls in the other room, and instructing the goon to keep an eye on me.
“Don’t harm her, under any circumstances, but don’t let her leave either. I trust you can handle yourself with her?” I over heard him whispering to him in the corner.
“Si, jefe. Sorry about earlier. I’m a drug dealer, not a kidnapper. I don’t have a lot of experience holding on to wiggling putitas.”
“Well, you’re a big hombre, I have faith you can handle her.”
“Si, jefe.” The goon hung his head, and I smirked with the knowledge that I had humiliated him.
Poor guy. I was nowhere near finished with him, and if he thought I was just going to let them keep me here against my will without a fight, he was dead wrong.
Now that I was in the penthouse alone with Jorge, I was determined to find a way to escape, no matter what I had to do.
“Fine! Let’s go!” He stood up quickly, grabbing my arm and dragging me down the hallway.
Sergio was right - the suite was the most beautiful place I had ever been in. White marble floors, sparkling glass tables and white fur rugs created a type of luxury I had only seen in magazines. It was totally luxurious, and yet completely uncomfortable. I hated it. I was afraid to sneeze in a place like this. How did people live amongst such pristine environments, I wondered?
I missed the clubhouse so badly right then. I longed for the familiar smell of oil, leather and whiskey. I missed the coziness of beat up hardwood floors and the smelly bar. And Mason. Fuck, I missed Mason so fiercely, my eyes filled with tears as I thought about him. He must be so worried. Or so angry.
Probably a mixture of both, but I hoped when we got out of this mess, the anger would disappear and he would look at me again like he did yesterday. I would have given anything to be back in his arms in that moment, and as Jorge roughly shoved me along the marble hallway, I looked at him with complete contempt. As far as I was concerned, he was the only thing standing in the way between me and Mason was him.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I entered the bathroom, and saw the huge vase of flowers on the vanity. I walked further in, and turned around to face Jorge.
“You aren’t watching.” I slammed the door in his face.
“Puta!” I heard him mutter under his breath.
Fuck him. I really did have to pee, and while I sat there on the toilet, my heart began racing, throbbing loudly in my chest, as I thought about what I was going to do.
I stood up and washed my hands, laughing at the fancy little soaps that were on the counter. I put a few of them in my jeans pocket for later, a souvenir of my not-so-amazing adventure today.
Pushing away the humiliation I felt when I looked myself in the eye in the mirror, I took a deep breath and mustered as much strength as I could. I may have gotten myself into this fucked up situation, but I sure as hell was going to at least try to get myself out of it.
Besides, if I escaped, then maybe Mason and Harley would be impressed. After the anger went away, that is. However long that was going to take.
I removed the white lilies from the vase, breaking one off and putting it behind my ear. After I poured out the water in the sink, I tested the heaviness of the vase.
“Hurry up in there, niña!” Jorge called from the other side of the door.
“Almost done!” I hollered back.
“Don’t worry, I’m coming asshole,” I muttered to myself.
I waited until I heard his footsteps walking away, and then quietly opened the door. I tiptoed up behind him, raising the heavy glass vase over my head with both hands. I quickly took a deep breathe and then smashed it onto his bald head as hard as I could.
He went down like a shot dog. I couldn’t believe it!
I crept around him, looking at his huge body that lay crumpled on the floor like a blanket. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing, but he was out like a light.
I smirked, and then I flipped his unconscious body off.
“Fuck you, you stupid goon!” I said to him, doing a little dance around him.
I was so proud of myself. Mason and Harley were going to be proud of me, too, because now they didn’t have to give the drugs back, and the cartel wouldn’t have the upper hand.
And then finally, Mason and I could start our life together. But first, I had to get the fuck out of here.
I looked around, spotting my backpack and phone all the way across the massive living room. I would just call Harley, let him know I was safe, and then I would leave on the elevator. I couldn’t wait to hear his voice when he heard from me.
I took about ten steps towards my backpack when the elevator dinged. I jumped about ten feet, and ran back the other way towards where Jorge lay.
I ran to the back of the suite, the bedroom being the only option I had to run to. The only place I could think to hide was under the bed, and I dove under there just as I heard sharp footsteps exit the elevator.
Two voices began yelling in Spanish, as they obviously spotted the bleeding Jorge right away. Neither of them sounded like Sergio. They talked loudly and excitedly for a few moments, calling Jorge’s name as they tried to rouse him.
I trembled under the bed as I listened, wishing I could see, but the dust ruffle on the bed was hiding me completely, and I prayed they didn’t think to look for me under here.
“The puta is gone!” I heard one of them yell. Footsteps trailed through the suite quickly, and when I heard them approach the bedroom door, I held my breath, frozen in fear. I was pretty sure the act of knocking out one of Sergio’s men would change Sergio’s instructions about not hurting me.
I followed the sound of the footsteps as they trailed into the bedroom, stopping in front of the closet, the sound of the closet door opening and shutting before they exited the room again. I began to breath again, thankful they hadn’t thought to look under the bed.
I heard moaning come down the hallway, and Jorge’s voice shortly after that.
“Perra! Coño!” Jorge was pissed, obviously. I’m sure his head probably didn’t feel too good, either.
How is it that while I was trying to get myself out of a dangerous situation, I only made it worse?
I groaned to myself, frantically trying to think of some way, any way to get out of this. If only it wasn’t for that fucking elevator!
At least they hadn’t found me. Maybe if they thought I escaped, they wouldn’t think to look for me here.
When I heard Jorge’s
cell phone ring, his voice shaking as he spoke on the phone to Sergio, I knew my guardian angel was looking out for me.
“El Jefe, I’m so sorry. She got away. She hit me over the head with a vase.”
Sergio was yelling so loudly, that I could hear his string of Spanish cuss words come through the phone and all the way down the hall to my ears under the bed.
He was not a happy man. I almost felt sorry for Jorge. Almost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Mason
I had never been so sick with worry in my life. My mind raced with images of Rebel, and every moment of opportunity I had to have made some different choice that would have avoided this situation.
Maybe if I had just turned her away that first day. If I hadn’t fucked her. If I hadn’t followed her to the bus stop to offer her a ride. If every single thing that happened hadn’t occurred, then maybe Rebel would be safe.
If she wasn’t anywhere near me, anywhere near the MC, maybe things would have turned out differently. Harley was right all along. This life was no place for her. What had ever made me think she would be untouched by all the bullshit and violence that came along with the outlaw life?
I was an idiot, and this was all my fucking fault.
I knew Harley thought so, too. I could see it in his eyes. He was all business, and that was good — that was required. But he couldn’t mask the blame that I saw when I looked at him.
And I deserved it.
Fuck Sergio Garcia. His face flashed in my mind, and the anger coursed through my body in hot waves when I thought about what I was going to do once I got my hands on his sleazy neck. What kind of man goes to another man’s house and kidnaps his sister, when he was the one that fucked up in the first place?
I couldn’t believe that he would target Rebel in this way. It didn’t seem like his style, but he had.
RAW: THE ULTIMATE MC COLLECTION Page 90