Dixon's Resurrection (Hell Raiders MC Book 2)

by Lowe, Aden

  The fact they were willing to search for Georgie, despite his unworthiness, spoke volumes for how much the Raiders thought of her. They would probably wait until they found her, or at least considered they'd learned everything useful Dix had to offer, then send him on his way. Not that he could blame them, especially with the likes of Belial making threats against them.

  His mind turned to speculation on what sort of trouble the cult leader might bring down on the Hell Raiders. Back in the day, the bastard had been known to have his followers deliver beatings to any he considered a threat. Dix figured the scope of Belial's abilities in that area had increased. Could he psychically reach someone who had never been within his sphere of influence?

  Lost in his thoughts, Dix failed to notice when Trip came to sit across from him until the VP cleared his throat. "Sorry, Trip, just thinking."

  "Yeah, I gathered that." He ran a hand along his stubble-covered jaw. "Look, man, we're all going to do everything possible to bring her back. We need you in the game, all the way."

  Annoyance tightened his fingers into fists. "I'm in it, all the way. Where the fuck else would I be? I've thought of nothing but Georgie for two years now and just when she's mine, some asshole takes her for revenge against me. I'm not going anywhere else."

  "Well, that's good to know, because a couple of the guys thought you looked like you had doubts whether we'd ever get her back. I'm telling you, if you do, best just squash those thoughts the fuck right out of your head. Won't do anyone any good for the boys to feel like you doubt them."

  Fear stopped the heated reply on his tongue. "Look, man, I don't have any doubts the Raiders can find her, given enough time. But we have about three days left. Yeah, I'm worried."

  Trip's scowl softened a little. "Understood, man. Let's go over some details, see if we can't track these fuckers down."

  Desperate to actually do something useful, Dix nodded.

  "First, I need to know everything about this cat you call Belial. That his real name?"

  "No. His followers are all given a demon name once they're initiated into his Church. That's his demon name. His legal name is Thomas Everett. I would never have known that except for the trial." Memory threatened to suck him under again, but Dix resisted, aware of the need to stay in the present and help find Georgie.

  Trip's fingers flew over the screen of a tablet he'd produced from somewhere. "What state was the trial in?"

  Dix gave him everything he could remember about that time, including dates, locations, the name of the presiding judge, even the defense attorney. A surprising number of details sat lodged within his brain, considering he had wanted nothing more than to forget the whole thing.

  At the end of an hour, Trip made a triumphant sound. "There you are, motherfucker." He turned the tablet around. "This him?"

  Belial's face stared back at him from the screen, the digital image lacking all the terror of seeing the man in real life. Dix had to struggle to keep from being sucked back into all those feelings. "Yeah, that's him."

  "Good. Okay, here's what I know about Thomas Everett now. He's serving life in a maximum security facility. His parents are deceased, and there are no siblings. He has no educational or employment records." Trip gave a few more details as he found them. His need for the chase became more palpable with each fact he unearthed.

  Dix considered himself fortunate to have men like Trip and Kellen on his side in this fight, even if they might dump his ass afterward. The thought reminded him of Belial's threat. "Hey, Trip, you should know Belial hinted at making some kind of trouble for the Hell Raiders."

  Trip looked up from the tablet, gaze boring into Dix's eyes. "What do you mean?"

  Dix recounted that part of the conversation. "I don't know if he could actually make anything happen or not. But, honestly, I wouldn't be shocked if he could."

  Trip nodded slowly with a thoughtful expression. "Okay. Good to know." He stared into the distance for a moment before returning to the hunt.

  Dix sat silent and waiting, and tried to clear his mind. He needed to prepare for what lay ahead, and he couldn't do that with so much racing through his head. Once more, he was reminded of the mistake he made in not keeping his skills sharp. He should have been able to totally blank everything out in only a few moments, but even after a half hour of trying, worry and fear still distracted him.

  "I've got his parents' names. You have any idea whether he inherited that property from his father's side or his mother's?" Trip's fingers tapped at his thigh with nervous energy.

  "I don't know. It's supposed to be a farm, and supposed to be in Ohio. I can't think of anything else."

  "Okay. I'm going to head for the War Room and the computers. I can dig a lot deeper there." Trip turned his tablet off and rose. "Don't forget, keep your head out of your ass and trust the boys to get her back."

  "I won't forget." He wouldn't either. He owed the Hell Raiders more than he could repay in ten lifetimes.

  Trip left him to his thoughts, but before they dragged him back into self-doubt, Ryker came over. Rather than sit, the big MMA fighter just dropped a heavy shopping bag in Dix's lap. "I might not be of any use in whatever it is you have to do, but I can at least help you get wherever you need to go. Assuming you don't want to start lighting candles right here, that is."

  Despite himself, Dix chuckled. "No, I probably shouldn't do that." Bag clutched tightly in one hand, he pushed forward in the chair, preparing to stand. "I appreciate it."

  Ryker reached down to clasp his free hand and help him rise. "No problem. Now, where you need to go?"

  Dix thought fast. "That grove over on the other side of the campground would be the best place. Getting there is the problem."

  "That's what I'm here for, man. Give me a minute, I'll grab us some wheels that won't shake your stitches out." Ryker went quickly and shouldered his way through the front door.

  The walk to the front door caused slightly less pain than the trip from the sick room. Hopefully that was a good sign. He needed to be healed and able to move ten minutes ago. Finally, he made it out onto the porch and leaned against the rail to rest and wait for Ryker.

  Badger sat in his usual spot. "You feeling any better, kid?"

  "Maybe. No time for laying around though, got shit to do."

  "Just make sure you don't overdo it. When we find Georgie, you'll need your strength." He took a deep drag from his ever-present cigarette. "I know you're scared shitless kid, but the Raiders got this. Trip's doing his thing, tracking those bastards down. In a couple hours, we'll ride and take her back."

  Dix nodded, the old man's confidence seeping into his brain. "Yeah, I know. But the wait is getting to me."

  "Yeah, I bet. You just concentrate on giving the boys every detail though. For now, let them do what they do."

  A buzzing noise built from the direction of the barn, growing to sound like a bunch of pissed off bumble bees. The side-by-side four-wheeler topped the little rise and rolled to a stop by the porch steps.

  Ryker grinned. "Let's go, man. This wind-up car should get us where you want to go."

  Dix couldn't help it. Sharp laughter poured out. "I reckon it will." The men all hated the side-by-side, even while they acknowledged its usefulness. They all felt somehow emasculated by using it.

  Ryker climbed out and took Dix's arm to assist him down the steps and into the passenger seat. "You need the seatbelt you think?"

  Dix punched the big fighter's shoulder. "I don't fucking think so."

  Ryker threw his head back and laughed. "Figured I better check." He went around the front and climbed into the other side. "Alright, man, which way you want to go?"

  Dix considered for a moment. "I guess just head right across the camp. There's a little clearing over on the other side that'll work."

  "You got it." He put the machine in gear and eased away from the porch.

  Dix didn't miss the fact that he chose the smoothest path, rather than jolting over the rocks and ruts as he
might have normally. The Raiders might scorn taking the easy way, but they silently acknowledged the need to have the option. While Dix refused the seatbelt, he wasn't above grabbing the roll bar beside the seat and hanging on to keep from being jarred too much.

  An eternity later, they crossed out of the open field where guest clubs camped and Ryker squeezed the vehicle carefully between the trees. He steered around a blackberry bramble loaded with unripe berries and pushed through the underbrush into a small clearing. Someone had cut away a couple of trees and the brush to create an open space about twenty feet across. Perfect for Dix's needs.

  "Here's good."

  Ryker stopped the machine and shut it down. Dix hurried to climb out under his own steam and grabbed the canvas duffle holding the supplies he'd asked for. Half holding his breath against the pain in his ribs, he moved to the center of the clearing and looked up to the open patch of sky. Perfect.

  "Alright, man, I'm good here. You can head back or whatever. This'll take a little bit." The last thing he wanted was an audience.

  "You sure? 'Ight, I'll just take a little hike then. How long you want me to be gone?"

  Dix bit back the urge to tell the bastard to just hurry up and get lost. "I'll fire off a shot when I'm done. Sound good?"

  Ryker nodded and faded into the underbrush with the eerie silence of a man long accustomed to the wilderness. Dix envied that skill. Growing up in a suburb and boarding school, he hadn't had the opportunity to become proficient in the woods.

  He sighed and put the thought out of his mind. No time for that kind of bullshit. He dropped the duffle bag and lowered himself gingerly to his knees. Time to get started.

  The items he asked for waited, burning a hole in his brain, while he broke up a small fallen branch and built a compact fire. The flamed served as a focal point and he stared unblinking while he worked to evict every thought from his mind. Surprisingly, the skill seemed to have not faded with lack of use. In a matter of minutes, he succeeded.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Georgie carried the heavy bucket of water from the well under Lilith's watchful stare. That had been the big flaw in her plan. The woman agreed to allow her to help with chores, but failed to mention Georgie would still be under constant guard. At least one of the three men hadn't been assigned to watch her, for now anyway. It seemed she and Lilith agreed on that matter. Lilith didn't want them thinking of Georgie any more than Georgie did.

  By the time she reached the back porch, water had slopped over the edge of the bucket to soak the leg of her jeans. Wonderful. She shouldn't have filled it so full. Next time she would remember that. Careful not to spill any more, she placed the bucket beside the grill.

  Lilith came out and started the grill. "Here, heat the water in these pots. Then you can put it in the wash tub to do the dishes." The pair of heavy pots she handed Georgie would probably hold a gallon of water each. With luck, she wouldn't have to heat more water for the dishes at least.

  Pots filled and placed on the grate, she stood back to wait for the water to get hot enough. Perfect opportunity to take a nice long look around and see what resources she might find outside the house. The edge of the porch offered a good vantage point.

  Tall grass choked the landscape and probably hid all the most useful details. Other than the toilet, the dilapidated barn was the only visible outbuilding. The real treasure was the lane, or at least what seemed to pass for one. Behind the beat up pickup, a swathe of missing grass marked the way out.

  The apparent absence of other people scared Georgie a little. Okay, more than a little. She was truly on her own, at least until she could make her way beyond what lay within sight at the moment.

  "Pay attention, bitch." Lilith's hard voice interrupted her thoughts. "You let that water boil over on the grill and you'll wear the mark of that grate on your face."

  Shit. Georgie turned back to the grill in a hurry, dismayed to see the water already at a rolling boil. She'd spent more time looking than she intended. "Good thing plain water doesn't boil over, isn't it?" With a rag folded to protect her hands, she lifted the first pot off the heat and carried it in to the washtub, then repeated with the second.

  "What are you talking about? Of course it does."

  Georgie grinned. "No, water itself will boil away. You have to add something, like starch from noodles or potatoes, to make it boil over."

  "What. Ever." Lilith spun and disappeared back into the house. Apparently she didn't like being wrong about something.

  Georgie filed that information away for future reference. It could prove useful. If nothing else, it would allow her to be annoying. She knew from her days in foster care that sometimes the key to winning the battle was getting under your opponent's skin.

  The dishes didn't take long to finish, unfortunately, even though she prolonged the work as much as possible. Dread settled in at the prospect of being forced back into the dank and dirty room to sit and wait until they came up with something worse. And she had no doubt they would, and probably soon. At least two of the men made no secret what they wanted to do to her. The third, the one who stayed mostly silent, terrified her even more than Naberius and Abaddon.

  She looked around for something else to do. A raggedy-ass broom leaned in the corner and she grabbed it and started sweeping the floor. Lilith scowled in her direction but didn't forbid it, just went back to writing in a heavy book. When the kitchen floor was as clean as she could get it, she moved to sweep the porch. Too bad that job went quickly as well.

  Hoping for more work, she returned to the kitchen. "What else needs doing?"

  Lilith glared up at her. "I don't give a damn what you do. Polish the silver for all I care. Just don't try to leave and stay away from the men. You're for the Dark Lord, not them, and He doesn't like sloppy seconds. Bad enough Samael, or Dix as you know him, already had you."

  Georgie gave a slow blink, as if the words meant nothing. "So it's okay if I pull weeds outside?" It seemed the perfect job to get a good look around outside.

  Lilith glared once more and waved her away, then returned to her writing.

  Hardly daring to believe her good fortune, Georgie hurried outside. At the edge of the porch once more, she stopped to look around and see where might be a good starting point. Over by the barn seemed the most likely place to find things she could use as weapons, but she could hardly say the grass there needed cleared for foot traffic. She would have to find another excuse to poke around over there.

  For the time being, she decided to start at the well. Getting the water for dishes meant pushing thistles and other not-so-nice weeds to the side. She could spend a lifetime pulling weeds and still not make much dent in the growth crowding the paths they needed to walk regularly. Not like it mattered to her, except as a way to keep her out of that dirty, dusty room. Any copperhead that decided to bite those bastards would be doing her a huge favor.

  The well consisted of an iron hand pump sitting atop a big block of concrete. At some point in the past, the pump had been painted white, if the chips of thick paint littering the ground were any indication, but now it was just rust-colored. Besides the five-gallon bucket Georgie had carried in with the dish water, two other buckets sat overturned, waiting to be needed.

  She looked around more, trying to judge the distance to the barn and see what lay beyond the sea of overgrown grass. One immediate advantage she spotted to the waist-high growth was that a person could disappear into that and never be seen again, no matter how hard someone hunted them. Of course that person would have to choose her path very carefully, to make sure she didn't leave a trail of crushed down weeds for the hunters to follow right to her.

  After the first few handfuls of weeds, she saw a problem. The mound of plant material she'd already pulled would quickly become a hazard, providing a nice hiding spot for snakes, not to mention stinking to high heaven after the leaves wilted and decay started.

  She looked around for a convenient place to use as a dump or compost hea
p or whatever. Hmmm. The barn seemed like a nice out of the way place. A glance back at the house showed Lilith still inside, presumably occupied with whatever she'd been writing. At least she wasn't within sight.

  Georgie weighed the risks of just walking away, carrying her weeds over to the barn and exploring a little. She would have a legitimate excuse if Lilith came looking, and not getting permission had the added benefit of giving her more time to check things out. If she asked, she might not be given permission, so then any attempt at searching for resources would be seen as a try to escape. That would put a definite end to her getting out of that damn room.

  The weeds turned into an unwieldy load when she tried to gather them all up at once. Good, she could make more than one trip. Careful of her footing since the ground stayed invisible, she pushed her way through the tall grass in the direction of the barn. Making her way directly through the grass quickly lost whatever faint appeal it might have held. Pushing down the stubborn weeds with every step turned into real work after a just a few steps.

  By the time she reached the shade cast by the barn, sweat poured off her and soaked her shirt. Small scratches covered her arms from the weeds and stung like hell, and bits of plants clung to her, itching. Probably plenty of bugs too, but she hadn't actually seen those yet. And she had no intention of looking for them either. She could do without that particular nightmare haunting her.

  As soon as she looked around for a place to put the armload of weeds, a new problem presented itself. The growth around the barn was just as high as everywhere else, and she couldn't just give a toss. In the interest of looking more legit if anyone looked, she stomped down more grass to make space, and threw her weeds down.

  Rather than head directly back to the well and more weed pulling, she moved closer to the barn and hoped for a breeze to cut the humidity a little. No such luck. If anything, the heat was worse despite the shade. At least the walking seemed a little easier there, the grass not quite as thick. She crept along the side of the barn in the general direction of the house, looking for a way inside without having to fight with the big doors on the end. That might draw some attention.