by Brook Wilder
“What’s going on, Elsie?” he asked. The concern in his eyes was sincere and she felt a single twinge of guilt before reminding herself once more of the reason she was there in the first place.
“Listen, Sheriff, my daddy would have come down here himself but there was some… trouble at the ranch,” Hopefully he’ll never find out that Jackrabbit was actually behind that ‘trouble.’ “He sent me along to let you know.”
“Let me know what? If there’s a problem at the ranch, I can come down there and take a look if he wants…”
“No! No, it’s not about that. It’s about the other thing. The… ah… the bikers that were brought in. With me,” Elsie finally added softly.
“Well, what about them? I don’t have all day, Elsie. I’ve got a lot of work to do,” Sheriff Donohue said with a huff of impatience and Elsie forced herself to take a step forward, praying that her expression looked open and honest. She didn’t have a lot of practice at lying, especially not to cops. Especially not to cops that had known her since she was ten years old.
“My daddy’s dropping all charges on Ha… on the bikers. I explained to him that it was a big misunderstanding and, when he finally came around to seeing the right way of things, he sent me down here straight away to get them released.” Elsie forced the words out in a rush and then held her breath, praying as hard as she’d ever prayed that Sheriff Donohue would buy her lies.
“Well, now. That’s… unexpected.” The sheriff sighed. “Are you sure, Elsie? He seemed pretty adamant when he was here.”
“I’m sure, Sheriff Donohue. He was just upset. You know how protective he can be of me. His only daughter and all that.”
“I can understand that. Got two daughters of my own to look after. Any man would be a little off his head after everything that’s happened.”
“Exactly! All this was really just a misunderstanding. Daddy overreacted because he was worried about me. But once I talked him through everything, he realized that he’d made a big mistake. Like I said, he’d be here himself. But with everything going on at the ranch… He didn’t want to hold that innocent man any longer than he already had been.”
Sheriff Donohue gave her a suspicious look from under the brim of his hat and Elsie worried for a moment that she’d taken it too far. But after a moment he sighed once more, in resignation this time. He rose to his feet, grabbing a ring of keys from the desk before turning to her.
“I can’t say I like this. Those Roadburners guys are all criminals just waiting to be caught if you ask me. But if your daddy is dropping the charges, then I have no reason to keep him here.”
The sheriff turned and walked out of the door. Elsie followed, not saying anything else, not knowing what to say and too afraid that she would give herself away. So, she trailed after him in silence as he walked over to a lockbox, pulled out some items, and shoved them in a brown paper bag before handing it to Elsie.
“Now, you stay right here and hold on to these. Just hold tight. I can’t allow you to go near the cells.”
Sheriff Donohue didn’t give her a chance to reply and she was grateful for it. So, she stood there, holding the bag of Hatchet’s personal items in front of her. Her pulse was racing and her palms grew sweaty, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do now but wait.
***
Hatchet was busy throwing tiny pieces of chipped cinderblock at the bars of his cell, wondering how much more of this he could take before the claustrophobia made itself known again, when the sound of the hallway door swinging open reached him.
He glanced up just in time to see Sheriff Donohue shuffling in, an annoyed look burning in his eyes as he swept over him and the cell with equal disdain.
“It looks like it’s your lucky day, son,” the sheriff said
Hatchet snorted. “How’s that?” He flicked another bit of crumbling concrete. “And I’m not your son.”
“Thank the good Lord above for that,” Sheriff Donohue muttered under his breath.
A soft chuckle escaped Hatchet’s lips before he could catch it. Donohue sounded like he meant every single word.
“Come on, now. On your feet,” the sheriff said as he pulled the massive key ring from his belt and unlocked the cell door. “Your charges have been dropped. You’re free to go.”
“Is this some sort of trick?” Hatchet asked suspiciously. Shock and surprise burned through him at the sheriff’s words, followed closely by confusion. Mark McLaurel didn’t seem like the type of man to let go of a grudge. But he also wasn’t dumb enough to question good luck when it punched him in the face.
“Nope, no trick. Now get the hell out of my cell,” Donohue nodded, gesturing for him to get moving. He sniffed dramatically as Hatchet passed him. “You should probably take a shower too.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly staying at the Four Seasons now, was I?” Hatchet shot back with a derisive look at the sparse cell. But he didn’t say anything else, fighting past his shock as he followed the sheriff down the short hallway.
He was hit with a wave of surprise all over again when Sheriff Donohue pushed open the door to reveal Elsie waiting on the other side. She was the last person Hatchet had expected to see, and it sent a torrent of unexpected and unfamiliar emotions rushing through him. The memory of his daydream hit him hard as the fantasy of turning around and seeing her waiting there for him came to life. Hatchet had to swallow down the lump of emotion that threatened to choke him, and a quick, barely noticeable shake of her head from Elsie kept him from speaking.
So, instead, he stood there in silence, his chest tight and glowing with a warmth pulsing deep inside him every time their eyes met. The sheriff quickly took a crumpled brown paper bag from Elsie and handed it to him.
“Here are your personal items,” he said gruffly, completely unaware of the undercurrent between Hatchet and Elsie. “I just need you to sign these forms here and then you’re good to go.”
In a daze, Hatchet did as the sheriff asked. He felt like he was dreaming as he signed the multiple forms authorizing his release, still not talking, afraid that, if he did, it would somehow burst whatever spell was happening and he’d open his eyes to find himself back in that tiny, claustrophobic cell.
He still didn’t totally understand what was going on, though he was quick enough to realize that Elsie had something to do with it. But still he waited to speak, staying quiet as the sheriff double checked everything, gave him one last glare and then gestured pointedly towards the exit.
He was practically vibrating with confusion, surprise, and gratitude as they made their way outside, still not speaking a word. He breathed in deep of the crisp air. The heat hit him first and Hatchet just stood there, breathing deeply like some idiot. He felt like he hadn’t taken a good long breath in years.
They had gone a few steps from the door when he stumbled to a halt. Elsie turned back to look at him, casting one glance back towards the station, but they were well hidden by the overgrown shrubs that dotted the landscape.
“Hatchet, what is it…?” she started to ask, but Hatchet hushed her with a finger against her lips. There were so many questions burning inside him, so many things he knew he should be asking her. But there was only one thing that he needed. In that moment, there was only one thing that he could possibly do. So he leaned forward and captured her lips with his own.
The kiss was full of passion but tempered with the tenderness that stilled some of the rage inside him. It took his breath away and he nearly grinned when he finally pulled away and Elsie melted against him, boneless and gasping. He gently tucked one stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“I have some questions for you,” Hatchet whispered, his voice gruff.
She nodded, huffing out a panting breath. “Just, give me a minute, alright?” She looked up at him, her blue eyes shimmering with tears. “Then I’ll tell you everything.” He was more than happy to give her all the minutes in the world if he could just stay there like that, holding her.
Chapter 21
A few minutes later Elsie handed him the keys to the truck that she’d led him to, telling him with a bashful grin that she was too shaky to drive. Oddly enough, he too found himself fighting a grin again. It was ridiculous, really. He’d just been imprisoned, and the president of his own crew was trying to kill him. But, damn, did she make him want to smile.
Hatchet had the keys in the ignition, a second away from starting the truck and driving the hell away from the police station, when he sat back with a sigh.
Elsie gave him a curious look and he ran his finger through his hair, trying to make sense of his muddled thoughts. He still couldn’t believe that she had waltzed her way in there and gotten him out. It was so incredible. She was so incredible. But in the back of his mind he couldn’t shake the threat of Mad Dog and how much danger he knew they were still in.
Finally, after a long moment, he turned towards Elsie, the keys still unturned in the ignition.
“Elsie, did you talk to Jackrabbit?” His voice was still gruff with gratitude and her eyes seemed to be drinking him in as she nodded slightly.
“I called him, like you asked. He helped me get out… Well, anyways, he helped me get here so I could get you free.”
Hatchet leaned forward, kissing her quick and hard again, just because he had to.
“For which I can never thank you enough,” he whispered against her cheek before pulling back enough that he could meet her gaze. “Did he say anything about Mad Dog?”
Elsie bit her lip, looking away for the first time.
The move had a sinking feeling forming in his gut. Slowly, she nodded again. “He said that Mad Dog is on the war path. Jackrabbit said that he’s totally lost it. He’s been ranting about getting rid of you, and… and me.”
“Hey,” Hatchet reached over, cupping her cheek gently with his hand and turning her face towards his. “I’m not going to let that happen, alright? You already did the impossible and got me out of there. I won’t let Mad Dog hurt you, I promise.”
Elsie placed her hand over his, just holding him there, and Hatchet had to clear his throat of the sudden emotion. He’d never felt this protective of anyone, not even the men he’d served with in Afghanistan, and they were the closest thing he’d had to a family before the Roadburners.
“Where is he going to go next?” Elsie asked softly, and her question drew him back to the problem at hand. He let out a huff, knowing he had to tell her the truth, but it was damned hard.
“Mad Dog knows where the ranch is, Elsie. He knows that’s more than likely where you’ll be. He’ll probably hit there first.”
“The ranch? My dad!” Elsie turned to him, her blue eyes wide and swimming with fear. “Hatchet, we have to do something.”
Hatchet could feel his jaw clench just at the thought of doing anything for Mark fucking McLaurel. But with Elsie looking at him like that, he had no choice.
“Do you still have my cell phone?” Hatchet asked roughly.
She nodded quickly, digging through her pocket until she pulled it out and handed it over. For a brief second, he marveled at all the little twists and turns that had led him to this point. He was about to call and threaten the president of his crew on behalf of a McLaurel. Not just one, but two!
If he wasn’t so scared for Elsie, he would have laughed at the irony of it, but he didn’t even feel a spark of humor as he turned on the phone and hit the speed dial button before he could let himself think too closely about what he was doing.
The other line rang once before Mad Dog’s familiar slimy voice reached him.
“Hatchet,” the other man sneered, “I’m surprised to hear from you. Surprised is an understatement to be honest. Aren’t you supposed to be rotting in a little fucking cell in that rinky dink police station?”
“Yeah… funny thing, I’m out now,” Hatchet said, voice harsh and sharp. At hearing Mad Dog’s voice, a wall of rage had crashed through him and he did his best to keep it under a tight rein. But he knew that, if he wasn’t careful, his grip could slip at any moment and escalate a situation that was already on the razor’s edge.
“Well, isn’t that some fucking good news for you…”
“I didn’t call to chit chat, Mad Dog,” Hatchet interrupted, his jaws clenched so tight it was almost hard to speak at all. “I called to warn you.”
“Did you, now? Well, I’m just honored.”
“Stay the fuck away from Elsie, and the McLaurels altogether,” Hatchet ground out and had to bite back his words as Mad Dog’s laughter reached him.
“Standing up for the McLaurels now, are you? Fucking pussy!” Mad Dog spit out the words like venom. “And don’t you worry about your sweet little Elsie. Why would I hurt her? I’ve already got plenty of bidders lined up who are just dying to meet her, if you know what I mean.”
“Don’t you even fucking come near her, you bastard! Leave her alone or I swear to god I’ll tear you apart myself!” Hatchet paused to draw in a deep, much needed calming breath and he realized then that Mad Dog had already hung up.
Hatchet hung up with a string of muttered curses before letting the phone fall into his lap. He closed his eyes.
“I take it that didn’t exactly go as well as you had hoped it would?” Elsie asked softly, reaching over to take one of his hands in her own.
He looked over at her, wondering how in the hell he was going to keep her safe. He’d heard the undertone in Mad Dog’s voice. The man was barely holding on to his sanity. There was no telling what he would do.
“Listen, I need to take you away. Take you somewhere safe. A motel or something…”
“No!” Elsie cut in sharply, before moderating her tone a little as she continued. “No, I’m not going to run away, Hatchet. I’m going to stay with you. And I’m going to do everything I can to protect my daddy.” She looked at him then, eyes wide with fright, “He doesn’t even know, Hatchet! We have to go. I have to tell him.”
“Elsie, I can’t let you go to the ranch,” Hatchet started, but then stopped abruptly at the furious look she shot him.
“Hatchet, you don’t decide what I can or cannot do,” she said fiercely. “I am going back to the ranch. I am going to protect my father. You can do whatever you want, but that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Okay, okay.” Hatchet threw his hands up in a gesture of apology, but he couldn’t keep the slight grin off his face. Who knew the sweet little blonde had a spitfire hiding inside her? His grin slowly faded as he remembered Mad Dog’s warning. They needed to get moving. The man wouldn’t wait long, he knew that.
Hatchet finally leaned forward, started the truck, and pulled out of the police station parking lot. His mind tumbled with thoughts as he tried to figure out what, exactly, he was going to do one they got to the ranch. He sure as hell was not looking forward to facing Mark McLaurel, let along protecting him from Mad Dog. But one glance over at Elsie’s determined face and he knew he couldn’t do anything else. He would go to the moon and back if she asked him to. Damn it. He really was in deep with her. And he didn’t want it any other way.
The drive to the ranch was completely silent, both of them lost in their own thoughts as the endless Texas landscape flew past on either side. But one thing that never changed was Elsie’s grip on his hand. Not once did she let him go, squeezing tight the whole ride, as if by that touch alone she’d never lose him again. It had warmth spreading through him. And it was damned distracting, but – fuck! – did it feel good, just sitting there, facing a problem, not alone like he always had, but with another person by his side.
Together.
He’d almost started to let himself believe that everything would be just fine. But as he pulled the truck into the driveway that led up to the farm house that sat in the center of the ranch, that little bubble of hope that had begun to form popped. He could tell right away that things were not going to go smoothly. Mostly because of the two squad cars already parked in front of the house.
“Son of a bitch!” Hatch
et cursed vehemently and then again for good measure. “God damn it.”
Elsie’s hand, still holding on to his, squeezed tightly, trying to reassure him, but he could tell by the worried look on her face that she was just as hopeful as he was. That was to say, basically, not at all.
He could already picture them cuffing him, shoving him in the back of one of those cop cars, and putting him back in that too small cell. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe, and he had to focus just on the air moving in and out of his lungs before he was able to open his mouth to speak.
As the truck rolled to a stop all eyes turned towards him. Both he and Elsie froze under those harsh gazes. There were two officers standing in front of their squad cars, and next to them was none other than Mark fucking McLaurel himself.
Hatchet sat there for a long moment, Elsie’s small hand tucked into his. He fantasized for a second about just turning around and driving away. Just keep going until there were so many miles between him and all this shit that it would never touch him. He glanced over at Elsie, saw the concern in her eyes as she looked at her father, and knew he would never be able to do that. Because of her. She made him want to be better, to be a better man, an honest man.