by Lowe, Aden
"What the fuck, Trip?"
"The Saxons took Tanya!" He took the porch steps all in one leap and shoved through the door. Men scattered out of his way as he made straight for the conference room. Opening that door during a meeting was a shooting offense, but that didn't stop him.
The door frame splintered under the force of his hit and the door slammed open. Inside, the men around the table froze, except for Kellen, who stood, gun in hand, waiting. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Trip paused for a breath. "The Saxons took Tanya. We have to ride now."
"What do you mean, the Saxons took her?" The disbelief in Kellen's tone rubbed him the wrong way.
Trip bristled. "I mean they fucking walked into my house and kidnapped my old lady."
"How do you know it was Saxons?" Jelly from the Tennessee Hell Raiders spoke up.
He tried to get his shit together and keep from blowing up. These men were his brothers and they would help him. "I fucking know. And it wasn't just Saxons, it was Freak himself. He left a cucumber on the counter with his own knife in it. That's as good as a signed letter. I was there when Buffalo's dick got cut off and Tanya had to take care of him before Freak called the ambulance."
Kellen dropped back into his chair. "Okay. What's the plan?"
Trip tried to swallow his impatience. He really did. "You get up off your damn ass and get on the road with me. They don't have much head start. That cucumber hadn't started to wilt where it was cut, so only a few minutes. We have to catch up before they get back to wherever they're basing."
"Trip you know we can't walk into a war with no more plan than that. We'd get slaughtered in a heartbeat."
"Kellen, I know if we don't get her back before they stop, she'll be raped and beaten, or worse. That's all I need to know. Would you need a plan if it was Vicki? Now I'm riding in five minutes." He turned and shoved past the men listening in the door.
"Trip! Get back here, man!" Kellen's shout rang after him. "Fuck! Somebody stop his ass!"
Several pairs of rough hands grabbed Trip. His fist connected with someone's gut and he shook away from them. A punch to his own belly stopped him in his tracks long enough for Crank and Fabio to get hold of him.
"Trip, listen to me, man. We're going to get her back. We just can't walk into an ambush. If we're all dead, who's going to get Tanya away from them?"
The fight went out of him. When Kellen put it that way, he had no answer.
"We won't be any use to Tanya if we go at this blind. You know that."
He nodded. "Yeah, I know." Defeat tried to rear its head, make him give up already.
"We'll get her, Trip. We just have to go at it smart."
He forced his muscles to relax and sort of hung there in Crank's embrace. "Fuck, man, if anything happens to her, I'm fucking done."
"Your brothers got your back, man. We'll get her back."
All around them quiet murmurs of agreement reached him.
"Ryker, Fabio, I need information. Hit everyone up you can. We need to know every move they make and draw down on them fast." Kellen spoke over the low voices. "Crank, I need you in the war room, get a bead on them however you can. Stella, get to town and lay low. I'll hit you up when we need you. Let me know if you see anything there."
Trip lost track of the orders being issued, but awareness that something was being done provided a measure of comfort.
"Hey Badger, come get him. We need his fucking head screwed on straight, and fast."
A few seconds later, Badger took Trip's arm. "Come on, kid. Let's get you a shot of Jack, get your shit tight."
Trip followed, still numb, still fighting the grief and defeat that threatened to swallow him. He sat when Badger directed him to, waited for the glass, and tipped it back as ordered. The liquor burned a path to his belly, cutting right through anything that might get in the way of getting Tanya back.
Suddenly the world came alive again.
As long as Tanya's heart still beat, he wouldn't give up. Couldn't.
"Thanks, old man."
"Don't mention it, kid. Now get in there with Kellen and help get this show on the road." Badger lifted his own glass and grimaced. "I'm going to go get some weapons and shit squared away for y'all."
Trip took a deep breath. Shit. And headed for the conference room to face down his president.
Chapter Seventeen
Tanya fought her way through layers of silent darkness, feeling an urgent need to get back. To what, she wasn't quite sure, but she knew it meant the world to her.
An angry male voice interrupted her mission. "—fuck were you thinking, idiot. You could have killed her."
Another voice answered. "Yeah, but I didn't. We got her back before some hillbilly could swoop in to the rescue."
The voices faded, as if the owners moved away, but Tanya didn't think they had. They still felt close, somehow, just not as loud. Or maybe she turned the volume down. Either way, it was better than listening to them yell at one another. She didn't like shouting or arguments. Dishes. She'd much rather do dishes.
She lost track again and just sort of floated, not really aware, but not totally gone either. Little snatches of sound or sensation came to her once in a while, but she didn't try to make sense of them. It took too much effort and she would rather look at the swirling depths of black all around her.
Sometime later, bright flashes of light drove her back toward the quiet dark with painful intensity against her eyes. She struggled to pull away, but the lights only grew stronger and more insistent.
Why wouldn't everything leave her the hell alone? She just wanted to rest. Was that too much to ask? Exhaustion dragged at her, making her muscles ache. The memory of whatever work made her so tired refused to come, but it didn't matter. Maybe she'd mowed the whole yard with that old rotary push mower Trip kept in the shed. She tried it once and gave up after a few feet, calling it too much work. So if she had actually used it, she must have had a great reason she couldn't remember.
Finally, the lights left her alone, and she snuggled down to rest some more. Damn, she had to talk to Trip about the air conditioning. He had it set way too cold. She needed to get up and get another blanket for the bed, but her tired muscles refused to cooperate. She gave up on that idea and just thought warm thoughts.
The quiet darkness might have held onto her a bit longer, but her sense of time had it all screwed up, so she really had no idea.
Tanya flung her arm over her eyes in annoyance, trying to block out some of the sun. Who the hell left the curtains open like that?
The bed swayed hard under her, tossing her back into full awareness. Not home in her own bed after all. She took stock of her situation as her memory rushed back. Kidnapped, and now injured, unless she missed her guess, and lying on the seat of a vehicle taking her to hell. Just another day in the life.
First things first. She needed to know what kind of shape she was in. Whatever they hit her with when she tried to run had hurt like a motherfucker, and she'd be surprised if it left no lasting damage.
Everything felt like it stayed in the right place, so she tried to move a little. Her arms and hands worked okay, but when she lifted her foot a little, pain radiated all the way up her leg and into her back. Shit. Hopefully her muscles had just grown stiff from lying still for however long.
Maybe getting off her back would help a little. Careful, she shifted her weight to the left a little and tried to roll. Pain blasted up her spine and her muscles contracted in spasms that felt as if her bones broke. A groan pushed past her lips before she could stop it.
"Well, looks like Sleeping Beauty decided to come back to us." The man who drove the truck sounded cheerful as hell for some reason. He must think he'd escaped.
Tanya stayed still, just trying to get the pain to calm down a little. Besides, talking to him accomplished nothing. She didn't have time to waste on bullshit. Holy hell, she hadn't felt pain of that magnitude since Buffalo spent a week training her to be a Saxons slave.
Back then, raped repeatedly and beaten, she'd been sure she was dying. Now she knew the kind of pain she could survive. The thought gave her little comfort.
"Giving me the silent treatment, huh, bitch? We'll see how silent you are when we stop. Freak already promised me first go at that mouth, and I aim to collect."
Dread tried to gain a hold on her mind, but the pain was stronger and decided she had no time for that bullshit either. He would just get off on anything she might say, assuming it came from fear. The resolve she lost sight of while unconscious came back. This time, they would find a woman who no longer just endured whatever they dished out. She would fight back, even if it cost her life.
She slitted her eyes open and checked out her surroundings, looking for something to use to her advantage. Just as she'd thought, she lay on the backseat in the same truck as before. The neat freak in her growled in disgust at all the trash and tools and who knew what strewn on the floorboard below her. And then she realized many of those things could be weapons. All she had to do was figure out how to pick one up and gather the strength to use it.
She let her right arm drop off the side of the seat, as if by accident. Keeping her search for a weapon quiet took serious concentration. Slow and deliberate, she eased a screwdriver from where it lay half-buried by other tools.
***
Trip tried to follow Fabio's advice and cool his jets while the Raiders did their thing. Sick helplessness made him ache for action. After maybe an hour of fidgeting and making everyone uncomfortable, he took himself out to the shed at the back of the clubhouse. Kellen kept a heavy bag suspended there for just such occasions, and some of the others had added other equipment over the years.
A hook by the door waited for his cut and he made use of it. The ever-present leather gloves from his pocket slid onto his hands easily. Using his fists, he took his fear and frustration out on the bag, at least for the time being. Later he would direct all that fury where it belonged, but for the moment, he needed the edge off so he could focus.
He just kept thinking of what might happen to Tanya at Freak's hands and that made it difficult not to rush off and try to do something about it on his own. He hadn't witnessed Freak doing anything brutal during his stay at the Saxons compound two years ago, but that meant nothing. The man probably didn't earn that name by being a disco fan.
So he worked the bag until sweat rolled off him and his arms and shoulders burned with fatigue. Time to dial it back. Inside again, he showered, hoping to send the rest of his nerves down the drain and disappointed when the plan failed. Still, he felt a little better when he dressed in fresh clothes and headed back out to the club room.
Once more, he waited and fumed while other men rushed off to carry out Kellen's orders. Despite wanting to be involved in every aspect of the search, he found himself unable to focus and track everything that happened. He had to trust to his brothers to have his back and help him find his woman and get her back.
Crank came down the hall from the war room where banks of computers and other electronics sat ready to do his bidding. Trip was no slouch with that kind of thing, but Crank was in a class all his own. In another life, he might have been some big government security agent or a spy, or something glamorous like that. In this life, he used his talents to help the Hell Raiders gain an advantage in whichever business they found themselves.
Crank paused at the conference room door and lifted a hand to signal Trip to join him.
Trip nearly fell over his feet getting there. Kellen gestured him to a chair, but he refused. He'd rather stand, good news or bad. "What'd you find, Crank?" He sounded breathless, even to himself, like an excited kid on Christmas morning.
Crank grinned and slapped his shoulder. "I got 'em, man."
"What? Where?"
"They're on I-75 southbound, extended cab pickup with a bike escort."
"You're sure it's them?" Kellen should know better than to ask that, since Crank never brought info he hadn't thoroughly vetted. The fact that he asked anyway showed how seriously he took the situation.
Crank lifted a shoulder, unoffended. "Of course I'm sure. Got lucky and spotted the truck coming and going from Stags Leap on the damn bank's video surveillance. Have I said lately how much I love that fucking ATM? Tanya jumped out and tried to get away at the Rattlesnake but they grabbed her before anyone saw. From there I've tracked them to where they are now."
Trip breathed a prayer of thanks for Crank's hacking skills. If a computer or database had a network link, he could get in. "Okay. How do we catch up and take her back?" The day was nearly gone at this point and if they were going to get her before she disappeared into hell again, it had to be soon.
Crank grinned. "Gotcha covered, man. Fifteen minutes ago, they pulled into a motel and booked a room. They're staying put for the night, looks like."
"How far away?" Fuck. As long Freak stayed on the move, they had no time to hurt Tanya. Stopped, who knew. But he was willing to gamble shit would get bad in that motel room.
"We can be there in just over three hours."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" He stood, ready to get on the road. "Let's move."
Kellen stood. "Everybody's strapped and ready to roll. I'll pass the word. We roll in fifteen."
Finally! The sick helpless feeling drained from Trip's muscles, replaced by righteous anger and a need for vengeance. He would take every moment of Tanya's pain and fear out of Freak's hide. Retribution.
Chapter Eighteen
The truck stopped and Tanya didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified. Relieved to get out of the truck and have a chance to assess her injuries, or terrified what Freak and the driver might do to her. She finally settled on a whole lot of both.
They sat and waited for what seemed like forever and she tried to mentally prepare herself for what she knew was to come. The driver stayed quiet, thankfully, fiddling with the radio and not finding anything he liked, judging from the way he kept moving to the next station.
She welcomed the noise as it gave her a chance to search for another weapon to join the screwdriver. The man found a radio station playing something Tanya assumed must be pop. It definitely wasn't the country or hard rock she was accustomed to. Seemed like an odd music choice for a guy who tried to look big and bad.
The high pitched voice on radio drowned out the faint sound of metal on metal as she pulled a heavy wrench of some kind from the tangle on the floor. Her heart pounded with fear as she gripped the cold steel and moved carefully to get it to her pocket. At least with the screwdriver, driving occupied the man's eyes and she didn't have to worry about Freak coming along. She made it though, and shoved the wrench into her waistband, hoping to conceal it better than her pocket could.
The truck door behind her opened with a heavy screech and cool damp air swept up her back to raise a chill. Rough hands grabbed her and dragged her out of the seat. Stiff muscles cramped in protest at the sudden movement and she let herself slide to the ground rather than try to stand.
"Get up, bitch." Freak's voice stayed low with what sounded like suppressed anger. "We're going inside for a bit and you and I are going to talk."
When Tanya didn't move quickly enough, he jerked her upright. Sharp pain lanced through her back again and darkness tinted the edges of her vision. "I-I can't."
"Fuck! Packer, you fucking idiot. Get over here and help her in. Without drawing attention, or I'll kill you instead of her." Freak stomped off in disgust, leaving her sitting on the ground by the truck.
The driver, apparently called Packer, climbed out and came around to her. "Quit faking now, bitch. You ain't foolin' me." He grabbed her arm and jerked hard.
Tanya cried out as burning pain shot through her shoulder to join the agony already in her back. She tried to get to her feet, but while her legs moved, they refused to do as she wished. When she managed to get partially upright, they wouldn't support her weight.
"Well, fuck me." Out of patience, Packer wrapped one arm around he
r waist and half-dragged, half-carried her to a door that yawned dark like a monster mouth about to eat her whole.
Tanya had no doubt the monster would be better than Freak and this man. She squirmed and wriggled, trying to push her way out of his grip, but the way he held her, she had no leverage and her arms were useless in that position. She cried out, but he clapped a hard hand over her mouth, smothering the sound before she could get attention from anyone.
The door slammed behind them and Packer dropped her to a bed. "Stupid bitch."
"About time you got her ass in here." Freak stood at the foot of the bed where she lay.
Trying to avoid notice, Tanya slowly collected herself and made sure her weapons were still in place. She had to keep those out of sight until she could use them. There'd be hell to pay if they caught her with them first.
"What are we supposed to do with her now?" Packer suddenly sounded as if he might not want a part in what came next, after all. "And why didn't you tell me she was another biker's old lady?"
"We're going to get all the information we want from her, and we're going to have a little fun with her. After that, who knows. And she ain't nobody's old lady. What gave you that idea?" Freak moved around to where she could see him more clearly, head tilted. "You tell Packer you're an old lady, bitch?"
"I told him the truth. Trip and me are getting married." Pride strengthened her a little. She managed to speak to the bastard without stuttering once. She worked months to get over that after Trip rescued her. He said that was probably something to do with PTSD and she should see a shrink, but she refused. All she needed was Trip and she'd be just fine.
Freak threw his head back and laughed, the sound chilling her blood. "Now you know better than that, bitch. Trip's VP of a pretty strong club. He ain't gonna tie himself to sloppy seconds. Sure, he's playing house with you right now, but for fuck's sake, who wouldn't. I have to admit, you seem to do a real nice job taking care of a man."