Ruthless (Nomad Outlaws Trilogy Book 1)

by Tory Richards

  "So what the fuck you gonna do, man?"

  I recognized Jack's voice.

  "Let me think!" Daryl snarled. "Fuck, all I need is enough money to pay off Wicked.”

  "You owe Wicked drug money?" Clark's tone revealed that he thought only a fool would get into that kind of trouble. "I heard he and a few of his boys got the shit beat out of them recently. Doesn't surprise me he's dealing drugs, but when it comes to money, he doesn't play around." There was a slight hesitation. "Maybe he'll take the girl as payment. I hear he's been looking around for a new pet."

  I could envision Daryl's eyes growing round with excitement at this information.

  "Do you think?" Daryl asked with hope.

  He was delusional.

  "And what, if he doesn't want her we take her to New Mexico?" Jack scoffed with skepticism. "You need the money now, man. Turn her loose."

  Yes, let me go!

  "Letting her go isn't an option," Daryl insisted. "If Della doesn't make it, she's a witness."

  "Fuck, I forgot about that, man."

  "I suggest that you don't mention Rebel’s name while you're trying to pawn her off on Wicked," Clark remarked.

  I could tell by their voices that they were moving closer to the door, just as I was able to pull my hands free. I brought them around in front of me so that I could inspect them. The cuts were superficial but still stung, fine lines of blood dripping down onto the stained carpet. I glanced again at the window, but the bars were still there. It didn't matter anyway. Before I had a chance to move I heard the door handle rattle, and then a loud thump right before the door was forced open. I quickly returned my hands behind me and stood frozen, watching as Daryl came into the room while Jack and Clark stood back in the doorway. I glared my hatred at Daryl before shifting my gaze to include the two men behind him.

  "She is a beauty," Clark commented, stripping me with his beady little eyes. He had a slightly pock-marked face, probably as a result of acne. Goosebumps covered my skin where his gaze touched me, and I was sickeningly aware that I was barefoot and still dressed in sleep clothes that inadequately covered my body. "Too bad she isn't a virgin. The buyers would go wild for her tonight."

  Daryl grasped my arm roughly, and it was all I could do to keep my arms behind my back so that he wouldn’t realize that I'd cut my wrists free. Now wasn't the time to make a move to escape, not when I was facing down three men. I knew that I'd have a better chance if I mislead them into believing that I was subdued. I would get them to let their guards down so that I'd have the element of surprise on my side, if only for a few precious seconds.

  Lowering my gaze to the floor, I let Daryl drag me from the room.

  ****

  Rebel

  "We'll find her, brother," Jace said in response to my smashing the beer bottle against the wall. The bartender frowned, but smartly remained silent as he continued to wipe the bar top down. "We've put the word out. Someone will see something."

  We'd spent the afternoon looking for Ginger. Jace's contact had only been able to give us three names of individuals that he knew were involved in human trafficking, and they hadn't panned out. Moody was still out checking his own leads, but time was running out before we'd have to give it up long enough to hit Duponte's estate. That job had to get done, and I wouldn't let Jace down.

  I was going to kill Daryl and anyone else who kept Ginger from me, and God help them if they laid a finger on her. I thought about her sweet smile, the fire in her eyes when she let her emotions rule her, the softness of her supple flesh as she yielded to me. Damn, the thought of another man touching her caused me to clench my fist and hit the polished wood of the bar. The pain didn't register, but the rage of frustration that was simmering inside me did. Every minute that I didn't know where she was was fucking torture. I saw Jace motion to the bartender out of the corner of my eye, and then the bartender was setting another beer down in front of me.

  "Drink this one first before you throw it," Jace said in a grim tone.

  I growled, reaching for it. As I tilted my head back to drink I saw Moody walk in and make his way towards us.

  "Anything?" I asked, setting the bottle down.

  He shrugged. "Not sure, brother. I ran into Pinkie down at the pier, he had something interesting." Everyone knew that Pinkie sold drugs and that the pier was his home away from home.

  "What?" Jace inquired.

  Moody motioned for the bartender to bring him a beer before responding. "That someone named Daryl owes drug money to an MC in Sanford. Could be the Daryl that we're looking for."

  An MC in Sanford. I frowned, trying to think of who it could be. There were a lot of little clubs in and around the area, and I hadn't been home in a few years. There was no telling how many had come and gone. One thing I did know, though, was that Tanner would know.

  "It’s a club called the Kings," Moody continued after chugging back half of his beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Run by someone called Wicked."

  "I've heard of them." My gaze shot to Jace for an explanation. "They're mostly good at petty crimes and shit. I heard they caused some trouble here recently, got their asses handed to them on a platter for it. You said Daryl was tweaking when you saw him, desperate for money. It makes sense now if he owes someone drug money. You know as well as I do that if you owe money to an MC, they want it when it's due. They don't wait."

  I thought about the situation for a minute, taking another drink. We'd spent hours hunting down and checking out the suppliers that we'd got from Jace's contact. Three lousy suppliers out of probably hundreds. It had hardly been worth the effort. Not one of them had known anything, or at least none of them had admitted to it. They hadn't heard anything either, and we'd had no reason not to believe them. Even though they weren't the most trustworthy individuals—they did, after all, steal innocent girls off the streets and sell them to be auctioned off--but if threatened with bodily harm they would give up their own mothers. Fucking cowards.

  If Daryl hadn't found someone to take Ginger off his hands, then maybe he'd taken her to Wicked in the hopes that Wicked would take her as payment. I knew that some MCs would take a girl and prostitute her out to get their money back.

  "Fuck." We'd been looking in the wrong places. I got to my feet.

  "Where you going, brother?"

  Jace's question did two things--it stopped me in my tracks, and reminded me that we had a job to do in less than two hours. Fuck! I met the solemn look in his eyes. He knew that Ginger meant something to me, although I was still trying to figure out exactly what that was. He wouldn't guilt me into staying to do the job that he'd hired me to do, we didn't roll like that. When something came up that needed immediate attention it trumped everything else. Yet we both knew that trust and brotherhood always came first. We were nomads. Our word was everything.

  I let loose a loud breath."Christ." I sat back down.

  "If I didn't need you I wouldn't give a fuck. It's‒"

  I held my hand up to stop him from saying more. "It's okay, man. I've never let pussy come between me and a job, and I'm not about to start now." Even I flinched at the callousness of my words.

  Moody called me on it. "We all know that she's more than just pussy to you, brother." He held up his empty beer to get the attention of the bartender. "That's why you're torn up inside."

  He was right. For the second time I thought about Tanner, and I dug out my phone, hitting his number. "Brother," I said when he answered. "Are you familiar with the Kings out of Sanford?" I'd be surprised if he wasn't.

  I heard him make a pained sound. "Unfortunately. Why?"

  "I just found out that the man who took Ginger might owe them drug money. Is Wicked the kind of man who'd take a woman as payment?"

  Tanner snorted. "I wouldn't put anything past him. I take it you struck out this afternoon, too?"

  Well, that answered my question as to whether or not he'd had any luck on the streets. "Yeah, but I think we've been looking in the wrong d
irection. Do you know how to find Wicked?"

  "Yeah."

  "Look, brother, I have a commitment I can't break. After that‒"

  "Yeah, I know. Say no more, we know where the Kings clubhouse is, we'll check it out for you."

  "Thanks, man. I owe you. You won't be able to get in touch with me until later. You find Ginger, do whatever you have to to get her out of there."

  "You got it. I'll be in touch."

  I crammed my phone back into my pocket, meeting the quiet consideration in Jace and Moody's watchful eyes. "That was Tanner, president of the Sentinels."

  Moody nodded. "Good man."

  "Good people," Jace added.

  I wasn't surprised that they knew the Sentinels or their reputation. The twelve ex-military men did a lot of good in Daytona, fighting to keep the neighborhoods safe. They were an MC who worked with law enforcement, but they'd also gained the reverence of other clubs. When you rode through Daytona, it didn't matter what caliber club you were, you showed respect by keeping shit peaceful and your nose clean.

  "Tanner and I go way back. Haven't been here in years, but those kinds of friendships don't go away," I told them.

  Jace nodded in understanding. "Let's hope he has better luck than we have finding your woman."

  "Yeah." I ran my hand over the bottom half of my jaw, trying not to think about what Ginger might be going through.

  My thoughts drifted back to four years before, and how she'd shown wisdom beyond her innocence, accepting what she couldn't change and all in the name of self-preservation. My gut warned me that she may not be that compliant this time around. She'd been on her own for a while, and she’d grown into a strong, independent woman.

  This time she'd fight.

  And she might lose.

  Chapter 19

  Ginger

  It was getting late. I didn’t know how long we'd been driving, but it had been long enough for me to know that we'd left Daytona. I remained on the floor, uncomfortable, cramped, and surrounded by discarded fast food trash and cups, listening to Daryl and Jack's inane conversation about nothing, things that I didn't understand and that I didn't want to understand. I wasn't naïve to what went on in the world, I watched the news and I'd heard talk in the bars that I'd worked in. I wasn't exactly surrounded by upstanding citizens. But it was the kind of talk you closed your ears to because you didn't want to know. I minded my own business and did my job.

  I understood, from the news, enough about human trafficking to know that people disappeared and were sold into prostitution or as sex slaves. Some were sold into labor, where they were treated like prisoners. The stories were in the news every day, but for it to be happening this close to home was frightening. It made it seem more real. I didn't want to become another news story about a woman who just disappeared without a trace, never to be seen again. If Clark had taken me I was certain that's what would have happened.

  Was being turned over to a motorcycle club as payment a better option? I shuddered, remembering what it had been like with the Red Devils. If Rebel hadn’t been there, and I hadn't been promised to him, my life would have turned out much differently. I probably wouldn't have been alive today. Those men had been brutal and cruel to their women, treating them as nothing but sex objects to use and abuse. I hadn't had anything to compare it to, but Rebel had been decent to me, as decent as he could have been without giving himself away. I hadn't known that at the time, though.

  I wondered if he was looking for me, if he even knew that I was missing. I thought about Della, and how bad she'd looked when we'd left her. Tears filled my eyes. God, I prayed that Rebel had returned to my apartment and discovered her, that she was in the hospital now and being treated. I loved her like a sister. I pinned my gaze on the back of Daryl's head, hating him with everything inside me. Drugs had changed him, and in a relatively short period of time. I wondered what had started him down that road to begin with.

  "Fuck, I need a hit," I heard him say to Jack. He ran his hand through his messy hair. I could see that he was shaking.

  "Me, too, but we don't have time for that."

  "We don't have the money, either. Shit." He looked back at me. "Maybe we can work out a deal with Wicked."

  Jack snorted. "There's no 'we', asshole. I'm just along for the ride, you're the one who owes him money. You'll be lucky if he takes her as payment for what you owe."

  "I still can't believe Clark wouldn't take her for a grand. I know something big is going on tonight. He could have unloaded her right away, recouped his investment and more."

  Jack shrugged. "Who knows what his reasons were."

  I closed my eyes, wishing that I could close my ears. As long as I was trapped in this car there was no chance for escape.

  "I gotta take a piss."

  Those words sent a shot of excitement through me. Unless they just pulled over to the side of the road, this could be the chance that I’d been waiting for. I moved slightly, stifling a moan as the stiffness of my aching muscles protested.

  "Gotta get gas anyway," Daryl surprised me by adding.

  "With what money?" Jack scoffed.

  Daryl's answering laugh held little humor. "I took Della's debit card." He sounded so proud of himself. "She won't be needing it."

  Bastard!

  I knew that the chances of a successful escape doubled if both of them were out of the car. It wouldn't be easy, since it was only a two-door car. I would have to move fast, somehow climb into the front seat and be out the door before either of them could make a move on me. And with a little luck, Daryl would stop at a busy station.

  I felt the car slow down and make a turn, all but holding my breath as Daryl pulled up against a pump and turned off the car. He turned toward Jack. "I'll wait here while you take a leak. Then get gas."

  "Yeah, probably not a good idea to leave our pretty passenger alone," Jack greed, opening the door and exiting the vehicle.

  No! No! No! Shit! I hadn't expected this. With dread, I watched Jack shut his door. What was I going to do now? My window of opportunity had suddenly narrowed. I lay there quietly, my mind swimming with possible escape scenarios. None of them excluded my having to get into the front seat for success. As the minutes ticked by, Daryl made a phone call.

  "Hey, Wicked, man, yeah I'm on my way‒" He was apparently cut off. "Ah, yeah, about the money. No, no, I don't have it, but‒" A few seconds of silence followed. "Listen, man, if I was trying to get out of paying you I wouldn't be coming‒" He muttered a swear word under his breath and grew quiet. I slowly uncurled from the floor and began to straighten up behind him so that he couldn't see me. "I was hoping we could work out a deal, man. I have something you might be interested in." I could hear the desperation in his tone.

  When I was high enough to see outside, I took in our surroundings. We were at a Circle K, but that was all I knew. There were restaurants and businesses all around, even a hospital across the street, but I wasn't familiar with the area. Two other drivers had stopped to get gas, too. One was walking toward the store, staring down at something in his hand as he walked, the other was filling his jeep and talking to the woman that was hanging out of his passenger side window. I didn't see Jack anywhere.

  Daryl was still talking to Wicked, although he was doing more listening than talking. He seemed to have forgotten all about me, and I decided that it was time to make a move. It would have to be quick and precise or I was screwed, because I was only going to get one chance. I sucked in several deep breaths to work up my courage and snuck up the back of Daryl's seat, still not sure what I was going to do until the very moment that I was doing it. His head was bent forward slightly as he listened on his phone. That gave me an idea, and I moved swiftly, grabbing him by the back of the head and slamming him face first into the steering wheel. He went surprisingly easy, so I knew that I'd caught him by surprise.

  The thickening thud was music to my ears. His grunt barely registered as I crawled over the back of the seat and into the front.
In the little time that it took, Daryl was already sitting back, slightly stunned from the impact, and reaching up for his bloody nose.

  "What the fuck . . . you bitch!"

  He began to turn toward me. I grabbed the phone that was still in his hand and smashed it against the side of his temple, reaching for the door handle with my other hand at the same time.

  "Son of a bitch!" I heard him swear again as he reached out blindly for me.

  Freedom was so close, and yet so far. I managed to avoid his hand by turning around on the seat and facing him. I kicked out to keep him away from me, practically falling backwards out of the car. I slid off the seat, my backside hitting the pavement with a jarring thud that sent pain ricocheting through my body. I cried out, hoping to get the attention of the man who'd just replaced the nozzle and was about to climb back into his jeep.

  "Help!"

  "Get her!" Daryl yelled out.

  Who was he yelling at? I looked behind me to see Jack exiting the Circle K. When he saw what was happening he picked up his speed.

  I yelled again. "Someone help me!" I was unable to get to my feet because Daryl had a death grip around one of my ankles. "Help!" I glanced frantically at the man who was now inside his jeep. I could see the indecision in his eyes. He turned to his passenger, who'd become animated and was yelling something at him, which didn't turn out so good for me. With a downward twist on his lips he started his vehicle and tore away from the gas pump without looking back.

  Are you kidding me? I screamed in frustration, watching them pull out into traffic. What was wrong with people? There was no one else around, and I began to kick out with growing panic, hoping to break free before Jack reached me. "Help me!" I screamed. I felt someone slide their arms under my armpits and begin to lift me, but when I glanced up to see Jack's unsmiling face I let him pull me to my feet, and then I elbowed him as hard as I could in the gut.