by Lowe, Aden
Morning routines might bore some women to tears, but Tanya took great comfort in hers. It meant she had a home, a place to call her own and a man who cared enough to provide it. Finished inside, she turned her attention to the small vegetable garden she started in the back yard. The light rain overnight meant weeds would spring up quickly and she needed to get ahead of them.
She tugged on the old canvas sneakers that had been delegated to gardening and outdoor chores, rolled the legs of her jeans up to her knees, and headed out. After an hour of standing on her head pulling weeds, the garden was pristine once more. Her plants thrived, promising a large harvest when the time came. Already, she had tomatoes and cucumbers to add to a salad for dinner.
Her bounty safely tucked in a basket over her arm, she headed back inside, kicking her muddy shoes off on the back porch to be dealt with a little later. She washed the vegetables quickly, leaving them on a towel spread on the counter to dry.
A small sound from the living room drew her attention and she turned to investigate.
Freak stood there, smiling at her.
A small scream escaped her.
"Hey, bitch, long time no see. You done well for yourself." The cold voice from her nightmares sent chills down her spine.
Her whole body trembled. She always knew this day would come, but Trip assured her it wouldn't, the Saxons had no way of knowing where she'd gone. But she'd been right after all. "W-what are you doing here?" The whisper barely made it past her lips.
"I come to claim my property, bitch." He grinned, green eyes almost glowing with whatever fueled his thoughts. "I got two years to make up for. Got some real fun ideas how to catch up quick."
Another level of fear blasted through her and released her from the trance that held her in place. She whirled and ran for the kitchen and a weapon. The little .380 Trip had insisted she learn to use sat tucked in the drawer with the dish towels, loaded and ready to save her. If she could reach it—
A rough hand grabbed her hair and pulled her back. "Now where you tryna go? You were always such a good, obedient little thing. I always wanted to push you past that, make you fight again. But ol' Buffalo was so proud of training you so good, he refused to let anyone take you further."
The revelation came as a sick surprise. Buffalo had somehow protected her? Tanya stayed silent, refusing to struggle against the brutal hold keeping her neck at a painful angle. "Why now?" Her whisper sounded weak and helpless to her ears, bringing anger to rest beside the fear in her belly. She hated that this man had the power to return her to the pitiful excuse for a woman she used to be.
Freak laughed. "When I came back to the waiting room and you were gone, I asked around. One woman had seen you walk out, but beyond that, no one had seen you. I thought you just got up and took off on your own. I still don't know how you ended up here. How did that bastard know when and where to get you?"
Her thoughts raced, struggling to reach past the terror that threatened to eat her alive. She had to protect Trip. "He didn't. I walked out, and made my way here." Thoughts of Trip returning home to an ambush ramped up her fear to a higher range. She had to prevent that. If Freak believed Trip had nothing to do with her escape, he would have no reason to go after him.
The nightmare scowled. "I'm supposed to believe you managed to get all the way up here by yourself, with no money, no nothing? You're a lying bitch." He pulled harder on her hair, twisting her neck to a sharper angle and pulling a cry of pain from her. "But don't worry. I ain't going to hurt your little boyfriend yet. I got plans for him, and I know you want to come back and hold up your responsibility."
She tried to shake his hold off, to no avail. "I-it's not my responsibility. I never owed you anything."
He held on without effort and leaned down to lick the side of her face, inhaling deeply. "Mmm, all sweet and clean, just the way I like 'em. You're wrong, bitch. You owe me every fucking thing. I'm the one who convinced Buffalo to take you as payment. He was just going to kill you and the asshole meth-head, just to make an example. We didn't need more bitches at the time." He licked her again.
Tanya managed to stay still, to suppress the shudder of disgust that wanted out. If he knew how much she hated his touch, he would do more. "That asshole deserved to die. I wish you'd killed him for me." He felt like he'd saved her once. Maybe she could reach that part of him again.
He brought his mouth to her ear. "Wanna know a secret? I did. I waited a little, made sure you were going to work out, then I killed him nice and slow." A knife appeared in his free hand and he traced the point down her cheek. "Turns out, he didn't like knife play so well."
The terror in her belly turned cold. Knife play was Freak's thing. Most of the girls bore scars from him, but it was common knowledge that he didn't stop with a little blood if he wasn't destroying club property. He regularly bragged about fucking both women and men as they died, and after. She wasn't going to get out of this alive. She could only hope to keep Trip alive.
"Don't worry, bitch. I won't hurt Trip right now. Well, at least not directly. I want him to suffer first. This is just the first phase. After he gets over having his property stolen, I'll take his club away from him." He laughed again, insanity edging into the sound.
She had to make him back off, make him think Trip wouldn't care one way or another. "It won't matter. He'll just move on. Trip is like that."
"Don't even try that with me, bitch. I know him. He has a rep as a solid man, keeps his word, has morals and all that boring shit." The knife traced her jawline. "Taking what's his will hurt him, but Trip's a smart man. He won't risk his neck for a dumb bitch he can replace at the drop of a hat. He's got a sweet set up here. Any town bitch would be glad to take care of him."
The truth of his words settled on her like lead weights, each one crushing her spirit. He was right, of course. Trip had asked her to marry him several times, he said to make things easier so he could provide for her if something happened to him. But he had never said he loved her.
Freak laughed again, correctly reading her surrender. "Smart little bitch, ain't you? Now come on. I don't have a lot of time." He dragged her toward the door.
"Wait, I need shoes." She could at least try to find a way to let Trip know she'd been taken against her will. Otherwise, he would think she'd just left him, and she couldn't bear that.
He gave her a shove. "What the fuck ever, bitch, but if you try anything, I'll start cutting you here and now."
She dug in the coat closet and came up with a pair of her shoes, slipping them on. In the process, she left shoes strewn over the floor and the door open. Besides, leaving the closet tidy didn't matter anymore.
Her heart sat in her chest like a brick as Freak dragged her out of the house, leaving the front door open, and shoved her into a truck. A man she didn't recognize sat behind the wheel, grinning at her. Freak slammed the door shut and slapped the hood as he passed by on his way to his bike.
The man in the driver's seat slammed the truck in gear and floored it, the tires cutting deep into the rain-softened surface of the driveway, slinging gravel and mud behind it.
Tanya had to bite her lip to keep from scolding him for messing up her yard. It wasn't hers any longer. Some other woman would take care of it for Trip. He would be alive and okay, while she went back to hell. The sobs started deep in her chest and hit in an unrelenting wave, sending her into spasms of grief and she bent her head to her knees.
The man delivered a savage punch to her exposed ribs. "Shut the fuck up, bitch. I ain't listening to that shit all the way home."
She stayed bent over, but managed to stifle her sobs into soft whimpers as the truck swayed along the familiar curves toward Stags Leap. With every mile, resolve settled into her gut alongside the massive grief.
She had to do something. If she allowed them to take her without putting up a fight, it was the same as cheating on Trip. She couldn't do that. He might move on, but she never would. She loved him, and she would not give up on that, u
ntil her last breath.
So she forced her grief down, calmed herself, and watched for her chance.
***
Trip sat in the club room, still waiting for more information. He'd met all the visitors, heard their stories, and now boredom set in hard. He had any of a dozen better things he should be doing. But he'd have rather stayed home in bed with his woman a while longer. She fucking made his world go round, and he treasured every minute spent with her.
He checked his phone again, for probably the hundredth time since he sent his reply to her good morning text. He loved her little updates on how her day was going. Still nothing. That wasn't like her. Normally, she gave him regular details of whatever she was doing. Vague unease skittered along his nerve endings.
"Something wrong?" Across from him, Crank's sharp gaze hadn't missed his frown.
"Nah. I'm going to step outside and call Tanya. She's not answering my texts." At the risk of appearing totally pussy-whipped, he rose and headed for the door, calling as he went.
His own growling voice greeted him. "You got my woman. You know what to do." She'd thought it was sweet when he recorded the greeting for her voice mail. Now why the fuck would she not answer? He tried again, with the same result.
A million reasons why Tanya couldn't answer raced through his mind, all of them bad. He tried to contain the rising panic, but it was useless. Shaking, he turned back into the club room and lifted a hand to Crank.
The other man approached quickly. "What's up?"
"I have to go check on Tanya. She's not answering."
Crank shook his head. "Not a good time, man. She's probably just taking a shower or a nap, or outside. Nothing to worry about."
Trip's stomach flipped. "No. She already got a shower and she'd have the phone with her. Something isn't right. I have to go. Tell Kellen I'll catch up as soon as I know she's okay."
"You sure, man? We got big shit going on."
"I know. But if something happened to her…" He trailed off, unable to continue the thought.
"A'ight, if you're sure."
"I am." He hit the bottom step running and sprinted to his truck, only to skid to a stop. "Can I use your bike, man? Make better time."
"Yeah, key's in the ignition. Good luck, Trip."
He had the bike in gear and rolling before Crank finished speaking.
The ride home took for-fucking-ever with his heart in his throat and dread riding him hard. He pushed the bike hard, splitting mud puddles with no regard to staying dry. His comfort didn't matter, as long as she was okay.
He approached the house fast, searching for any sign of anything out of place and finding plenty. Deep gouges cut into the driveway, something Tanya would never have allowed. Not only that, his bike lay over on its side in the usual parking place by the porch. His fear amplified with each discovery. Something serious had to be wrong.
He stopped Crank's bike at the steps leading up to the front door. Fuck! The door stood wide open. Tanya never left the doors unsecured. Having survived what she had, she was probably the most safety conscious woman in the world.
Leaving the bike idling, he drew the .45 from his belt and eased up on the porch, remaining as stealthy as possible, despite announcing his arrival with the roar of the Harley. He wouldn't do Tanya any good with a bullet in his skull.
Wary and leading with the gun, he slipped through the door. To the right, the little coat closet stood ajar, with several shoes strewn on the floor. He advanced quickly, clearing the house room by room, then took the time to look around. Finally, in the kitchen, he spotted it.
A cucumber, probably fresh from the garden that morning, sat on the counter with a knife blade bisecting half its length. The knife wasn't one of theirs, but that didn't matter. He might as well have a signed note. Freak.
Fuck!
Sweat poured off him and he barely made it to the sink in time to puke his guts up. The cold water tap gave its characteristic gurgle before gushing to rinse the sink, and he washed his mouth out and splashed water on his face. Time to get a fucking grip and get his god damn woman back.
Chapter Sixteen
The man driving the truck slowed down drastically every time they came to a curve or a narrow place, probably to keep control. "Fucking hillbillies. How do they drive on roads like this? Like a kid with a crayon drew the fucking map for them." He laughed at his own joke, but Tanya caught the note of sincerity in his voice too.
By the time the truck reached Stags Leap, Tanya had herself under control a little better and sat upright in her seat. Her heart still raced in terror, but somehow she'd moved to a place in her head where she could and would fight for herself. The man hadn't made her put on a seat belt, so that made matters a little simpler. All she needed was the right time.
With some time to consider away from the direct threat of Freak, she figured Trip might replace her as easily as Freak said, but she didn't think so. Sure, he had never said he loved her, but he showed her in a million ways. Everything from the way he touched her to the sewing machine he'd brought home to her a few weeks ago after she mentioned not being able to find exactly the right curtains for their kitchen. Her faith was stronger than some nasty words from a nasty man. She wouldn't give up on Trip that way.
And she knew he wouldn't give up on her. He may have already found out what happened, since she hadn't been able to answer his reply to her good morning message. The fact that even at the moment, he and the rest of the Hell Raiders might be racing to her rescue made her breathe a little easier. She had to keep her thoughts positive. That's what Trip always told her when she got down about something.
She could find little ways to delay them and allow Trip to catch up. The bid for escape she planned would slow them down, even if she didn't get away. Anything would help a little.
The man driving the truck seemed relieved to get off the crooked back road. "Thank fuck. Civilization."
In front of them, Freak revved impatiently at the stop sign at the entrance to Stags Leap. No doubt the driver would be in for a few words when Freak got a chance. The truck stopped behind the bike, and Freak let the tires bark against the pavement as he took off again with them following more closely.
Almost time. She could have done it at the stop sign, but she knew from experience that the prospect of help there was zero. And she knew for certain she needed all the help she could get. So she waited. And dreaded the thought of getting anyone else hurt in this nightmare, but fully aware there might not be a choice. She would do whatever she had to for Trip to have a chance to rescue her, or if that failed, for him to be safe.
"What the fuck kind of excuse is this for a town? I knew hillbillies was backward, but fuck." The man put his window down and lit a cigarette. "Can't wait to get the fuck out of this damn place, back to real civilization."
Sudden courage made Tanya able to speak. "You better hope you're out of here before they find me gone. When these hillbillies get mad, nothing can stop them."
He laughed a little. "You think that man of yours will bother?"
"Yeah I do. We're getting married." Where all that nerve came from, she had no clue, but she didn't question it.
The man looked at her, brows raised. "Shit. Freak didn't tell me that. I didn't sign on for grabbing nobody's old lady." He shook his head and looked out the window. "Fuck. Too late to do anything about it now."
"If you knew anything about the Hell Raiders, you wouldn't try to steal a dog from one." Maybe she could make the man afraid enough he would just let her go. "And it's not too late. You could just let me go."
"Shut up, bitch." He slung a half-hearted backhand slap at her, but it connected well enough to split her lip. "I need to think. Fuck!"
Blood trickled from her lip, but Tanya ignored it and kept quiet, once more waiting for the right moment. They drove right down Main Street, but the whole town seemed to be sleeping. Businesses were open, but no one was on the streets. Not unusual for the middle of a weekday, but shitty timing for her.
The Rattlesnake was her last chance before they left town and she'd have to wait who knew how long. Several cars sat in the lot, but she didn't see anyone moving. Either way, she had no more time.
When the driver slowed to negotiate the tight bend in the street by the tavern, she grabbed the door handle, shoved the door open and dove out. She hit the ground half on her shoulder and back, the impact making the air whoosh from her lungs. Gravel slid under her feet when she tried to get up, but she kept at it and finally made it to her feet, and started running, heart in her throat and desperation fueling her muscles.
A rough section of neglected sidewalk by the Rattlesnake parking lot forced her to slow down or risk falling again and giving up more valuable time. The raised curb grabbed her foot and she nearly sprawled face first, but she managed to recover her balance at the last second. Two steps into the Rattlesnake lot, an incredible force slammed into her from behind.
Tanya felt herself falling and pain chasing itself in waves all along her spine before her body went limp and darkness reached out to swallow her whole.
***
Trip didn't take time to call Kellen or anyone else. They wouldn't answer anyway if they were in the middle of a meeting. Instinct demanded he get after the men who took Tanya immediately, but logic reminded him who they were. The club house lay between him and town anyway, so he blasted Crank's bike as hard as it would go back in that direction. He would stop there and drag Kellen's ass out, meeting or not. And since it was all up in current club business, they would by damn help.
The wet landscape slid by in a blur and he ignored the countryside he normally enjoyed riding through. The back wheel skidded on loose gravel in a curve and he nearly lost it, but managed to get it back under control. He slowed for the turn into the lane, then drove hard again. At the club house, he braked and let the bike slide into a long stop. By the time he had the stand down, Badger came off the porch.