by Brook Wilder
It didn’t help that his own thoughts were in a complete tangle trying to reconcile the fact that he’d just slept with the daughter of the man he hated worst in the world. And now, all he wanted was to do it all over again. What was worse, every protective instinct was on alert. All for this little blue-eyed, blonde-haired goddess that he had no reason to trust and every reason to turn around and run as far away from as he could in the opposite direction.
“Your hands,” Hatchet said again, gesturing at them. This time, he didn’t wait for her response before capturing both wrists in one of his hands and quickly tying them with a soft leather belt he grabbed from the closet.
“Is this really necessary?” Elsie asked. There was a note of hurt in her softly spoken words that killed something inside him.
He slowed, fingers still tangled with hers as he paused. “I can’t risk you getting away,” he finally said, unable to look her in the eye as he looped the end the belt over one wrist and made another knot in the middle. “I’ve got to do what I got to do.”
“Why? What are you going to do? Where are you going to take me?”
There was a demand in Elsie’s voice that had the tiniest smile hitching up one corner of his mouth. “You sure are bossy. Did anybody ever tell you that?”
“No.” Elsie stared up at him. “But I’ve never had anyone kidnap me before either. So, I guess it’s just a day for new experiences.”
The way she said it sent images of the night before flooding into Hatchet’s mind and it was driving him insane.
For a long moment, they just stood there. The air between them crackled with intensity and neither of them said a single word. Neither even knew what to say as they stood there, hands still entwined together, searching each other’s eyes as time seemed to slow to a standstill.
Like a bucket of ice water thrown on a fire, realization struck Hatchet. He knew exactly what Mad Dog intended. He’d seen it in the man’s bloodshot eyes from the moment he’d first revealed that it was Elsie fucking McLaurel in his bed.
In Mad Dog’s eyes, Elsie was just another thing that they’d taken from Mark McLaurel.
Therefore, she would be sold just like every other thing they stole from Mark McLaurel.
That knowledge sat like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach, along with the near certainty that he couldn’t do shit about it even if he wanted to.
Mad Dog had been telling the truth when he’d said he owned Hatchet. It was one of the ways he kept a tight rein on the Roadburners crew: blackmail. Mad Dog had dirt on every single member and he had no issue with turning it into a noose and leaving them to hang on it.
Hatchet had seen it happen before, with members who stepped too far out of line or went against one of Mad Dog’s orders. He had no delusion that the crazy old bastard would even blink at the thought of using the dirt he had to get rid of anyone who crossed him. Whether it was Hatchet or even Jackrabbit.
“Hey, lovebirds!” Jackrabbit’s deep voice boomed from down the stairs, breaking the moment between Hatchet and Elsie. “Hurry the fuck up!”
Chapter 9
Elsie’s breath hitched painfully in her chest as Hatchet turned and headed downstairs from the bedroom that had suddenly become so claustrophobic. She had no choice but to follow, surreptitiously pulling at the belt that held her hands together. But no matter how hard she twisted her wrists, the knots didn’t loosen. She didn’t expect them to, but it was worth at least a try.
She stumbled down the stairs after him and all she could do was keep her eyes open and her mouth shut. She wasn’t going to say a damn thing until she knew just exactly what was going on. And she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that it had something to do with the older, rough-looking biker who seemed to be the leader. And she also knew that whatever it was he had in mind, she wasn’t going to like it.
Just keep your head down and your eyes open. And the first chance you get, run like hell, Elsie told herself, fighting the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She pushed the fear as far down as she could, refusing to let it take root. That fear belongs to the old Elsie, she reminded herself. If nothing else, she had learned that she didn’t want to be that Elsie any more. Even if the new Elsie gets kidnapped? Or worse? an inner voice shrieked. But even though it was hard for her to ignore it, she did.
She focused only on keeping an eye on her surroundings. She knew it was the only way she was going to get out of there unscathed. A part of her still hoped that Hatchet would just turn to her with that devil-may-care grin of his, untie her, and tell her it was all some big joke, some terrible misunderstanding. But with every passing minute, that hope dimmed.
From the moment he had tied her hands together upstairs, something had shifted between them. The feeling of safety and security that had surrounded her like a glass dome whenever she was near him began to crack, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever be repaired again.
Who cares? Old Elsie demanded in a strident voice at the back of her head. He kidnapped you and threatened you and…
I know what else he did! she thought fiercely, trying to muffle the other voice as a wave of heat flooded her cheeks. She remembered every single detail of the night before. She also remembered that she’d been one hundred percent willing.
More than willing, even. Eager.
Demanding.
Asking for it.
And despite everything that had happened before or since, she still couldn’t make herself regret it.
Well then, you really are a fool. That inner voice popped up again, but this time Elsie had no problem pushing it to the back of her mind. For the moment, she had bigger things to worry about. As Hatchet led her down the stairs, all eyes turned towards her and she found herself unconsciously moving to hide behind Hatchet’s wide shoulders.
The way the older man, the one they called Mad Dog, stared at her made her skin crawl. He leered at her like she was a piece of meat. There was nothing but pure greed in his snake-like eyes as he looked her up and down, weighing and measuring. By the time he was done, Elsie was sure the tattooed man could tell her height, weight and birthdate to the exact number.
She wanted to sink into herself, to grow smaller somehow, so she could escape his gaze. It made her feel like she desperately needed to take a shower.
Hatchet must have picked up on her unease because the next moment he was stepping between them again, either consciously or unconsciously, to block her from Mad Dog’s sight and break the older man’s leery stare.
Hatchet walked a few more steps, Elsie still trying to stay as hidden as she could behind his much bigger body, but the tension in the air was palpable and growing thicker and more dangerous with every minute.
She wondered if he was just going to lead her over to where the other two men were waiting, and hand her over. But halfway into the living room, he stopped and turned towards her.
He reached out his hand, laying it on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze, almost as if he could feel the sudden fear threatening to overwhelm her. He gestured for her to stand in a spot by the windows, putting as much distance between her and Mad Dog as possible. She was grateful and paused again as he pulled her to a gentle stop.
“Listen, sweetheart, you just stay right here and don’t move, alright?” Hatchet whispered, casting a sideways glance at the still waiting Mad Dog and Jackrabbit.
Elsie quickly nodded. Her heart thundered in her throat as she tried to figure out what was going on, but Hatchet’s mixed signals were throwing her for a loop. Who ties a girl up and then tries to protect her? It didn’t make sense.
She nearly tried to reach for him when he turned away from her and walked over to where the other two men were, but she bit her tongue to stop herself. All she could do was watch as the three of them started talking amongst themselves. They were too far away for her to make out any words, but, by the look they kept casting in her direction, she could tell it wasn’t anything good.
Impatience ate at her as the
men continued to argue. From the looks of it, Hatchet was arguing with Mad Dog and Jackrabbit was trying to stay neutral but looking more and more nervous with every second.
Elsie caught a few words here or there, but she still couldn’t figure out what they were deciding, except that she knew for sure it was about her. The argument grew more and more heated and she caught Mad Dog’s angry mutter. “I’m the boss here, don’t forget it.” And then a few moments later. “It’s my decision, Hatchet, and my word is law.”
It went back and forth for a few more minutes before Mad Dog took a step closer to Hatchet, glaring at the younger man and hissed something too quiet for Elsie to hear, but whatever it was it must have done the trick because the next moment Hatchet was backing down, a little anyways.
“She can ride with us in the truck,” Jackrabbit finally said. But just as quickly, Hatchet was there, stalling the other men.
“No, I’ll take her,” Hatchet said, loud enough for Elsie to hear the hardness in his voice. “I’ll take her.” He repeated when Mad Dog started to open his mouth and finally, after a long glare, shut it again with a click of his teeth.
Mad Dog nodded sharply before gesturing at Jackrabbit to follow him out. Not another word was spoken as both men climbed back into their truck and tore off down the gravel driveway.
Elsie’s mind raced, looking for arguments to throw at him, anything she could say that might make Hatchet change his mind and let her go. But the hard edge in his dark eyes had her closing her mouth before she could even get a single word out.
“Come on,” Hatchet said gruffly. “Let’s go. They’ll be waiting for us and Mad Dog won’t be any kinder to you if we’re late.”
“You could just let me go,” Elsie replied. Even though she knew what the response would be, she had to at least try.
But Hatchet just shook his head, the light in his eyes dimming with something that looked a lot like guilt. But it didn’t change the firm resolve that settled over his features as he gently took her hands in one of his and led her outside.
His motorcycle was still parked where he’d left it the night before, big, glossy, and black.
“Get on.” Hatchet ordered.
Elsie took a deep breath, refusing to move another step. “No.”
He turned slowly and looked down at her from his towering frame, dark eyebrows narrowing before he huffed out a sigh.
“I told you, Elsie, I can’t let you go. I just can’t okay? So, either you climb on that bike yourself or I put you there.” He was practically pleading by the end of it.
Elsie gave a quick look around, weighing her options. She could tell by the steely look on his handsome face that he wasn’t going to let her just walk away. She knew for a fact that she couldn’t run away on foot. She had no idea where she was or how to get back to Gold Creek ranch. Finally, she accepted the inevitable with a sigh.
“Fine,” she breathed out. “But can you at least untie my hands? That is, unless you’d prefer me to just fly off the back. Probably save you some trouble.”
“Probably,” Hatchet muttered under his breath as he started undoing the knotted belt, cursing to himself as he struggled with the soft leather until it finally came undone.
He threw it to one side with one last, vehement curse before giving her a hard stare. “Now, don’t try anything, Elsie,” he warned her but she just shrugged, her eyes becoming as wide as they could in a look of innocence that she knew he didn’t buy for a second.
With no other choice than to do what he said, she walked over to the bike and threw one leg over, climbing onto the back seat.
“Well, let’s go. Wouldn’t want to keep your friends waiting.” Elsie spat out the words with a lot more bravado than she felt. Becoming a new Elsie—a brave Elsie—was a hell of a lot harder than she thought it would be. Inside, she didn’t feel brave at all. Inside, she felt like a bowl of quivering jello. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep the tremor from her body as Hatchet climbed on the motorcycle in front of her and revved the engine to life.
As they got on the road, though, something changed within her. Even though the fear was still there, underneath was an excitement that had taken root and started to grow. She didn’t understand it at all, but she was positive that it had everything to do with the confusing, vexing, frustrating man that her arms were wrapped around.
Unbidden, memories of the night before rose in her mind. Memories of the way he had kissed her, the way he had touched her. The way he had made her whole world turn upside down and never letting it right itself completely afterwards. Her body seemed to have developed a mind of its own. Just a few moments ago, it was trembling in fear. Now it was vibrating for an entirely different reason and Elsie’s toes curled as she tightened her arms around Hatchet’s waist.
Desperate to distract herself, Elsie leaned forward, shouting her question to be heard over the roar of the engine and wind whipping past them as they sped down the highway.
“Hatchet, where are we going?” Elsie couldn’t force herself to pull away again and she stayed like that, her front plastered against his back.
“What?”
“I said, where are we going?” She yelled louder this time, but she still wasn’t sure if the words had reached Hatchet’s ears or if the wind had snatched them away before he could hear them.
Either way, Hatchet didn’t answer. He rode on in silence as they sped forward. Elsie started worrying again, her fear clamoring inside her as the dusty road rushed past in a blur
***
What the fuck are you doing, Hatchet? What the fuck do you think you’re doing? The questions tumbled endlessly in his head, but he couldn’t come up with a good enough answer for them. Over and over they pounded him. Relentless. Each one made the guilt inside him grow until his stomach felt heavy and sick.
He rode towards the club’s warehouse that Mad Dog told him to meet at. There, he would be ordered to hand Elsie over.
Her arms tightened around him and he felt her shake. Every inch of her curves pressed against his back, so warm and tight and inviting. She was holding on for her life, and the realization made him feel like a monster.
No! Fuck that. This is just another job. She’s just part of the job. But as much as he tried to convince himself of that, he couldn’t. Because, damn it, she was more than just the job now. She was a hell of a lot more and it had nearly torn him in half to see the terrified look in her bright blue eyes, knowing he had caused it.
Keep your head in the game man. You know what Mad Dog is capable of. You know what the consequence will be if you go up against him, and you damn well know it won’t be pretty. His chest tightened painfully at the thought, not just of what would happen to him but what would happen to Elsie if she was caught in the crossfire. It couldn’t be any worse than what Mad Dog already has planned: to sell her like any other head of cattle taken from Gold Creek ranch.
Hatchet knew the type of men that Mad Dog did business with. The worst sort of assholes. Slavers, murderers, and sadists. Most of them would sell their own daughters just to make an extra dollar. Hatchet had no illusion about what would happen to Elsie if those same bastards got their dirty hands on someone as sweet and innocent as her.
They’ll make sure she won’t be so innocent when they’re done with her.
Hatchet’s fist tightened on the throttle and the motorcycle roared forward. He knew what had happened between them the night before had probably been a mistake but, even still, he couldn’t make himself regret it. Compared to the club bunnies that he usually shacked up with from time to time… well, if he was honest with himself, there was no comparison.
His usual type was more fake than real. They lied without batting an eye. But Elsie was different. With her, every emotion, every thought, every reaction was painted across her expressive face in an honest, vivid color that was impossible for him to miss. He loved it. He had loved every minute of it, up until he’d heard her goddamned name.
Why couldn’t s
he have been anyone else? Why did she have to be a fucking McLaurel? Just the reminder of the man had a decade-old anger bubbling up inside him. The rage was never far away. With everything that had happened over the past twenty-four hours, Hatchet’s control was starting to wear thin.
Disobeying the President had consequences. He should hate Elsie for who she was, not be trying to protect her. He’d kidnapped her, for Christ’s sake! So how come the only thought he kept coming back to was that he couldn’t just stand by and watch Mad Dog sell her to the highest bidder.
Hatchet tried to shake the troubling thoughts, tried to keep all his focus narrowed to only the stretch of highway in front of him. The next turn. The next mile marker. But all too soon he reached the exit where he needed to turn off. It was well-disguised as an old abandoned emergency truck ramp, hidden by the overgrown brush and encroaching tree line unless you knew where to look.
About twenty minutes later, Hatchet was pulling into the gravel-lined lot and reluctantly slowed his bike to a halt in front of a rusty old warehouse. His stomach was doing cartwheels. For a split second, he thought about just turning around and riding like hell out of there. But before he had the chance to turn the bike around, Mad Dog arrived, grabbed Elsie’s arm, and dragged her—screaming—inside.