“House, start the coffee.” He waited for the robotic verbal response and sprawled back across the mattress.
Long ago, Myron had hooked up a smart network in the home of any member who wanted it, and Hoss had been one of the first to jump on board. Using the system now was second nature to him and his kids, even if both Sammy and Faith had tried to get up to some hijinks through the years. He’d been forced to stifle his laughter one night as he listened to Sammy and some of his teammates as they’d tried to teach the system dirty limericks.
He reached over his head again, pushing his muscles to their limit. The ride back from Texas had been fast and brutal on old bones, but everyone in the column had their own reasons to push through fatigue and pain. Back in Fort Wayne, Hoss had intended to just do a stop and go at his house, but he’d completely forgotten about the picnic. When he’d started back out the door with the sketch in hand, Faith’s face had fallen in disappointment, and he didn’t have it in him to leave his little girl hanging. Not after she’d worked so hard to get everything set-up and ready, and the club had already been scheduled to descend on their home within only a couple of hours.
Then he’d intended to cut loose midevening and go to Cassie, but conversations about club business trumped his own desires. Change was coming, and the more people Mason let in on the knowledge, the more management of the information was needed. It’s always something, he thought and sat up on the edge of the mattress.
The house phone rang at the other end of the house and he kicked himself for the hundredth time for losing his cell phone. Pushing to his feet with a groan, he reached for a pair of jeans draped over the foot of the bed and pulled them on. Padding barefoot up the hallway, he asked the air, “House, who’s calling?”
“Tugboat is calling.” Huh. Wonder what the old man wants.
“Go ahead and answer it.” That’d get the call connected before he actually had to hit a button. Once in the kitchen he called out, “I’m comin’, old man. Gimme a minute.” The room was silent and he wondered if the call had disconnected. Then he heard breathing. “Tug, what’s up, brother?”
“Faynez with you?” Hoss stopped short at the alarming panic in Tug’s voice. “She there, Hossman?”
“It’s early and I haven’t seen her. Lemme check.” Leaning back from the phone, he bellowed up the hallway, “Faynez, come here.” Silence greeted him, and he waited for a beat. “She’s probably sleeping in. What’s up?”
“Go see, brother. Go see if she’s in bed. She is, then I’m gonna apologize for waking you.”
He stared at the phone, then as an echo from the past rang through his memories, he whirled and pelted back up the hallway to Faith’s room. Without knocking, something unheard of for the past half a decade, he opened her door to see a neatly made, completely empty bed. He moved to Sammy’s old room and yanked the door open, surprised to see a body under the covers. “Faith, what are you doing in Sam’s—” He stopped abruptly when Garrett lifted his head from the pillow and looked at him, confused and sleepy. “Garrett, you know where Faith Inez is?” Mason’s son shook his head back and forth, but a fleeting emotion crossed his face.
Hoss remembered Faith’s tears from the night before, how Garrett had come and gotten him, told him she’d locked herself in the bathroom. He remembered how angry the boy had been at Jonny, who he’d blamed for everything. And he remembered how Faith had latched onto Garrett when she’d finally come back out, using the boy as a shield against everyone. Fucker better not have touched her. Hoss’ blood was boiling at the terror leeching strength from his legs, and he reached out and ripped the covers back. The boy was alone, not hiding Faith under the sheets like Hoss had suddenly feared. “You sure you don’t know where she is?”
“No, sir.” Garrett sat up and pushed off the bed. He’d slept in his jeans. Hoss had a moment of disorientation when Garrett stood and straightened until he was not even an inch shorter than the older man, so much taller than Hoss remembered. Garrett shook his head and asked, “She’s not in her room? We watched a movie and she told me it would be okay if I stayed.” Something the boy had done countless times in the past, and nothing Hoss had ever worried about before. “Did I do something wrong, Hoss?”
“No, son. You’re fine. I just need to talk to her.” Hoss turned around and called out, “House, put the call on speaker.” A click echoed through the rooms and he clipped out, “She ain’t here, Tugboat. What’s going on?”
“Hoss?” He stopped midstride and looked around as if his dreams and wishes had somehow conjured the woman he loved to his house. “It’s Cassie.”
“Yeah, I got that. What are you doin’ with Tug?” That wasn’t the right question and he knew it, but this was his insecurity talking loud and clear. “What’s going on with Faynez?” Back on track, he thought as he stalked to the kitchen, Garrett padding along behind him.
“You left your phone.” Cassie’s voice cracked and broke and Hoss found his shoulders hunching in as if he could take on whatever was hurting her. “At my house.”
“Yeah?”
Tugboat interrupted, and his words tore the ground out from under Hoss. “Man called your phone this morning, said he’s got Faynez. Said he wanted to talk to you. Deadline was near forty minutes ago, but he didn’t call back yet.”
***
Cassie
Hearing the steady strength in Hoss’ voice calmed Cassie a little. He sounded so sure of himself as he went back and forth with Tugboat about possible players in whatever game Faith had gotten caught up in. Not that he was calm or unmoved, but just from Hoss’ words and his tone, she knew he believed he would find his daughter, get her back, and she’d be okay.
Actually arriving at Tugboat’s home had nearly seemed anticlimactic after her frantic search for the exact street and address. Her memories had led her astray twice and she’d had to backtrack for blocks until another flash of “there” would happen. Tug had already been up and dressed, working on his second cup of coffee when she pulled up to the curb. Which meant he’d heard the bike and been waiting on his porch by the time she made it up his steps, arms out to catch her.
Five minutes of conversation, and he’d made two calls before dialing Hoss’ home number. Myron, who Cassie knew in passing, and Mason, a man Cassie had yet to meet. Listening to Tug’s side of the conversations had been frustrating, but from his responses, she knew they were immediately headed to where Hoss was. Coordination of whatever would happen would be from his home, and the men were rallying their friends to join them. It had been such a relief to pass the baton to those capable men, and she caught another glimpse of what Hoss had in the club, in the brotherhood.
“Get here, brother.” Hoss clipped out the words brusquely to Tug. “Garage is open. I just saw Mason and My roll in. I need you, old man. You get here and help me.”
Before Tug could disconnect the call, Cassie asked, hating how tentative her voice sounded, “May I come, too?” She stumbled over the words, trying to find the right ones to tell him what it would mean to her. “I want to…that is I would…Hoss—”
He interrupted her, his voice deep and soft like satin through the speakers. “Come to me, baby. Please.”
“I will,” she promised and looked up to see Tug’s mouth curved in a sad smile.
***
Garrett
He heard the words but couldn’t make sense out of them.
Someone had taken Faynez, as in kidnapped her.
Someone has her right now. At that thought, an endless round of possible terrifying scenarios raced through his mind, each worse than the others.
He pictured her face bruised and bloody, her mouth open screaming for help. Or maybe she was shivering in a dark cellar. What if Faynez were fighting for her life against shadowy assailants? His heart stuttered at the thought of her lying still and quiet, tears running down her face as someone moved over her. He choked when he imagined her lying still, skin gray, eyes staring sightlessly.
Garrett
ruthlessly cut off the thoughts, stopping himself before he could do anything to remind Hoss he was here, because he knew the adult in the room would want to instinctively protect him from whatever was happening.
And Garrett, as he’d been taught by the smartest man he knew, listened and heard.
I’m not waiting
Faith
Straining against the bonds holding her to the chair, Faith tipped her head down and watched as droplets of sweat fell on her skirt, staining the fabric in growing circles. Pain ripped up her arms, but she didn’t stop, praying it wasn’t her imagination that things had begun to loosen. Twisting her wrists back and forth, she contorted her thumbs and fingers, trying to slip free. Something in her thumb joint popped loud and echoed in the room as agony shot through her nerves, her chin lifting as her neck arched up and back. Eyes squeezed tightly shut against the swelling wave of pain, Faith bit down on the scream that tried to erupt from her chest.
How could I be so stupid?
Everything had gone as planned, all the talk she and Drago pitched back and forth boiling down to the core of everything Faith felt was wrong in her life. Stifled and stymied by her father and his friends, by her brother, by Jonny…she just wanted a day to herself, a single day where she could do what she wanted. Be who she wanted.
Her shoulder cramped and she rolled the muscles as far as she dared, trying to drive the spasm away. Another pinch along her wrist and the bindings slipped an inch farther down her contorted hand. Yes.
It jerked and stopped, stuck in place, and felt tighter than ever where it was situated just above her knuckles. Dammit.
As the sun broke the horizon that morning, her mother’s old car, not used but kept in running condition and registration up to date by her father’s obsessive attention to detail, had started on the first turn of the key. Faith had driven a lot over the past couple of years to feel confident, time spent jolting in a jeep across acreage Gunny owned in Ohio, driving Sammy home from games via backroads, or after she’d gotten her permit, chauffeuring her father around town. Once out of the garage without an alarm being raised, she’d aimed the car towards Ohio, placing her phone on the passenger seat to call out directions.
Driving through the growing light, Faith gritted her teeth and held tightly to her decision. She and Drago were meeting, and then going to a mall in Columbus to see a movie and have lunch. That was all. He’d offered to come to Fort Wayne, but the chances of someone she knew seeing them was too great. If word got back to her dad that she’d been out with a college-aged man, he would go ballistic. Columbus was safer, and after the party yesterday, she knew everyone would be sleeping in anyway. I’ll probably be home before they miss me. She shook her head.
Nothing had gone right yesterday. Well, sure, the party had gone off without a hitch, and she knew her father appreciated all her hard work on that, because it supported his close relationships with the men in the club. But between Sammy and Jonny, her nerves had been frazzled even before the sun went down. Thank God for Garrett. He’d seemed to know something was wrong, but instead of trying to force her to talk about it like Sammy would have, he’d just sat beside her on the couch, letting her use his shoulder for a pillow.
A sign ahead announced Welcome to Ohio, and she sighed as she drove underneath the arching metal. Another mile closer to a day that promised to be the most fun she’d ever had, and she couldn’t wait to finally meet Drago.
Lips pulled back from her teeth, Faith strained again, doing her best to ignore the warm liquid dripping from her fingertips. That excitement didn’t last long. Anger swept through her again at the memory of what happened when she pulled up to the ill-kempt house isolated by acres of farmland.
Faith stared at the house standing in the midst of tall weeds, a half-collapsed barn visible around the corner of the building. Decorative shutters alongside attic windows had fallen askew, giving the structure a cockeyed look. The phone chimed again, announcing she’d arrived at her destination. This can’t be right. She unlocked the car and stepped out, soles of her sneakers gritting against the loose gravel of the driveway. Faith took two steps to the side and peered around the home, hoping to see someone, anyone, so she didn’t have to go up those stairs to the rickety porch and knock on some stranger’s door. She blinked, surprised, because instead of a parked soccer mom van or maybe a swing for kids, she saw a staggered row of bikes.
“You actually fuckin’ came. Holy shit.” The voice came from behind her and she turned just as a man shut her car door. He took a step towards her as she stared at him. Tall, broad in the shoulders, his long hair was drawn back in a loose ponytail at the back of his head. A ragged beard and mustache surrounded full lips that were curved at the corners into a small smile. His eyes were dark blue, and brooding, overshadowed by heavy brows that lent his entire aspect a dangerous cast. That smile on his mouth didn’t reach his eyes, and Faith shivered. “Faith Inez Rogers, as I live and fuckin’ breathe.”
What? She tipped her head to the side, because the cadence of his words was familiar, sounding out of place in the deep voice. “Drago?”
The smile on his face broadened, slashing across his features like a bloody rip. “In the fuckin’ flesh.” Head angled up to keep his gaze on her, he offered her a half bow, arms out to the side. “You’re a lot stupider than I expected.”
“What?” She verbalized this question and took a step to the side, wanting to put distance, or perhaps the car, between them.
“You know who your daddy is, right, little girl?” Faith blinked, because that question didn’t make any sense. “He’s one of the most powerful men in the region, and after what happened to his boy years ago, that man protects what’s his with a singular focus. But you—” He chuckled, sounding like Sammy did when he was most pleased with himself, arrogant and sure of his own competence. “—gave yourself up like a prize on a platter. This—” He took a step towards her and she glanced at the house, freezing in place when she saw more than a dozen men of varying ethnicities had come out on the porch to watch the encounter. “—is going to be fun.” No longer feet away, Drago’s voice came from beside her and she yelled out in surprise when his hands gripped her arm and shoulder, turning her to face the house head-on. He shouted, his words echoing off the building to bounce back against her skin. “See what I got us, boys? This here’s our bargaining chip to earn a place at that goddamned table we’ve been denied far too long.”
Fingers tight on her skin and bones, he drove her before him towards the silent house, giving her no option but to go with him. Terrified, she panted in short bursts of air as he ignored her fists and nails. Faith’s head rang when he casually drew his arm across his body to backhand her brutally when she threatened him with her teeth. Bleeding from her nose and mouth, she fell on the stairs, turning onto her back to look up at the circle of men hovering over her. Oh, please no. Hardened eyes, scars drawing story lines across their skin, they stared at her. One man’s eyes held sympathy, and she reached towards him. “Please.” He quickly shuffled out of sight, his place in the circle taken by a man with dark skin, dark eyes, and a mouth so cruel she cringed away.
Drago shoved aside two men and thrust his hand towards her. “Fuck you.” She slapped his hand away and he grunted and aimed for her hair instead, the ripping pain making her cry out again. He lifted Faith to her feet by his grip, tears leaking from her eyes as he pushed her hard, not letting her get her feet under herself. Faith’s stomach flew to her throat as she flailed and tripped on the lip of the porch, falling to her knees, palms landing on the unvarnished wood with a meaty slap. Everything had gone so fast, she hadn’t had a chance to really react and wavered there a moment until a splatter of blood from her nose colored the planks between her hands.
A fist in her blouse lifted her, the collar chokingly tight against her throat, cutting off her air. “Oh, yeah.” Drago’s voice sounded from behind her as a hand groped her breast, another thrusting up under her skirt to graze the curve of her ass. Revo
lted, she screamed and tried to whirl out of reach, coming up hard against the Mexican man. “This is gonna be fun.”
“Bedlam.” The Mexican’s voice lashed like a whip, cowing the men, his arm trapping her against his chest. She kicked out hard, catching Drago’s leg just above the knee and he screamed, going down in a pile.
“Bitch, I’m going to kill you for that.” He stared up at her, then shifted his focus over her shoulder. “She ain’t yours, motherfucker.”
“She is not yours, Bedlam. Damaging her will not encourage the Rebel cooperation you so desire.” Faith dug her nails into his wrists, drawing blood as she tried to dislodge his hold. “Stop, girl.” Faith let her legs go limp, dragging against his strength and he hoisted her like a sack of potatoes. “I am your defender, girl. Be still.”
Faith swiped her dry tongue across her lips, wincing as she probed the tear at the corner with the tip. At least they didn’t rape me. Her brain supplied another word at the end, but she ignored it. Yet. At the man’s words, she’d stopped. Not because of what he’d said, but the way Drago’s face looked as he stared at her. Hungry, angry, and mad.
She’d been passed off to another man and, accompanied by half of the crowd from the porch, they’d moved her through the house and into the basement, a laboratory maze of halls and rooms that felt far too large for the footprint the house had boasted. He’d shoved her into a room at the end of a hall, slamming the door behind her. It had only been moments before the door opened again, the Mexican man had sauntered in as if this were the country club and he a preferred member.
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