The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (+Wicked Bond [5])

by Sawyer Bennett

  "Fuck," I mutter as I quickly turn the stove off and haul ass through the living room to the hallway. Maggie meets me, holding Belle in her arms with a look of utter fear on her face. "My bedroom. Now."

  Maggie turns and flees into my room with me hot on her heels. I go to the gun cabinet and unlock it, pulling down a shotgun. I quickly load two shells, cock it, and hand it to her. "Get in the bathroom. If anyone comes through that door that's not me, you shoot first and ask questions later, okay?"

  She nods furiously in agreement, and I see a determined gleam in her eye. It's of a mother protecting her daughter and I know if Zeke makes it past me, Maggie sure as shit isn't going to let him get his hands on Belle.

  Reaching back into the cabinet, I pull out a pistol and quickly slam in a cartridge. I pull the slide back and chamber a round before tucking it into my waistband at my back. I turn toward my bedroom door, but Maggie calls, "Bridger."

  I turn to her and she whispers, "Please be careful."

  "I will," I tell her. Then I race down the hallway and through the living room. I can hear the bikes come to a stop and the engines cut, making the air heavy with the silence. I take a deep breath, let it out, and open the door to step out on my front porch.

  Zeke dismounts his bike and removes his sunglasses, hanging them from the collar of his black t-shirt. The other two guys, who I recognize from the club but don't know their names, remain on their bikes.

  Zeke walks to the bottom of the porch and looks up at me. "Bridger."

  "Zeke," I say in acknowledgment. "What can I do for you?"

  He looks off to the side of my yard, taking in the work shed before turning back to me. "Looking for Kyle... seen him around?"

  "Nope," I say and it rings with truth because it is the truth.

  "Kayla seems to think you're pretty buddy-buddy with him," Zeke says as if he's just attempting some casual conversation with me, but I don't buy it for a second.

  "No more than I am with you," I tell him.

  Zeke nods, glances back at the two other bikers, and then raises a booted foot to rest it on the bottom porch step as he looks back up at me. "Something was taken from me... something very precious, and it seems that maybe Kyle had a hand in it."

  My fucking stomach cramps and sweat breaks out on my forehead. Still, I try to keep a level voice when I say, "Got nothing to do with me."

  "Kayla says you were in a fairly private conversation with Kyle the other night at the compound," Zeke says, his eyes boring into me with cold calculation.

  "I shared a joint with him on my way out to my car, Zeke," I say with annoyance. "Would have done the same with you if you'd been there."

  He makes a low hum in his throat and gives me a tight smile. I'm not sure if he's buying my shit or not, but I'm tensed and ready for a battle if need be.

  "Alright," Zeke says, putting his sunglasses back on his face. "You see Kyle... give me a call, will you?"

  "Sure thing," I say as my stomach unclenches slightly.

  Zeke nods and turns toward his bike. Then, as if he has a second thought, he turns back and says, "You know... I could stand a stress reliever now that I think about it. Why don't you come out to the clubhouse tonight... work Kayla over a bit?"

  Every instinct in me wants to tell him to go fuck himself, but I know I'm walking a very dangerous line right now with this man. I give him a nod. "What time?"

  "About eleven," he says and turns away, satisfied with my answer.

  I stay on the porch and watch Zeke mount his bike. All three men kick start them to life. They carefully back their bikes up, maneuver them into turns, and then head back down my long driveway that winds at least a full half mile before it connects to the main highway.

  As soon as they're out of sight, I turn back into the house and call out to Maggie as I close the door behind me.

  "Mags... it's all clear," I shout as I walk back toward my bedroom. She comes out of the master bath, Belle toddling behind her, and hands me the gun with the barrel pointed downward. I uncock it but leave the shells inside.

  "Go get packed up. Two separate bags, one for you and one for Belle," I tell her as I lay the gun on the bed and go to my closet to pull out a large duffle bag.

  "Why?" she asks fearfully. "What happened?"

  "He knows," I tell her as I go back to my gun cabinet and pull out three more guns. I put them in the duffle and head to my dresser to grab clothes.

  "Knows what?" she whispers.

  "He knows I know where you are," I say confidently. "He might even have a clue that I have you."

  "Then why didn't he just bust in and take me?" she asks, and it's a good question.

  But I saw how Zeke was checking out the landscape and figuring out how it would look to find my dead body and possibly Maggie's once he had Belle. He wasn't going to risk that move right then.

  "He wants me to come to the club tonight," I tell her. "He wants to lure me there; I'm sure he thinks it's better to kill me on his turf rather than mine. They can dispose of me quietly and then come get you."

  "Please tell me you're kidding me," Maggie begs.

  I stop pulling clothes out and turn to face her. "I'm dead serious, Mags. Just trust me on this. Now, we're leaving immediately, so go get bags packed."

  She hesitates only a moment before she races out. I throw the clothes in the duffle and grab several boxes of ammunition from the cabinet. When I turn to toss them in the bag, my eyes lock on Belle still standing there, watching me curiously. My heart fucking squeezes at the thought of Zeke getting his hands on her, and I double my efforts to get packed.

  "Don't worry, Belle," I murmur more to myself than to her. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you or your mommy."

  I zip the bag, grab it and the shotgun with one hand, and then bend to scoop up Belle. Her little arms go around my neck, and I'm amazed at her trust in me. I hope to fucking God I don't let her down.

  I pause just outside of Maggie's bedroom door, noticing her zipping up a backpack before grabbing a small tote from the bed and turning to me. She looks determined but fearful, and I want to kiss her to reassure her, but we don't have time. For all I know, the entire club might be rumbling down my driveway in seconds.

  I lead Maggie out the back door of the house and we trot to the truck, throwing our bags in the back. I get Belle quickly buckled into her seat while Maggie scrambles in from the driver's side. No more than five minutes after Zeke left, I have the truck pointed down the back road that leads to Woolf's house on the Double J.

  He's the first person I call and he answers on the second ring with a, "What's up?"

  "I'm headed to your house now. I need you to take Belle and head to Cheyenne," I tell him, my voice conveying the urgency of the matter.

  Maggie's hand grabs my arm and she says, "What? No. I'm not leaving Belle."

  I shrug her off and ignore her, continuing my instructions to Woolf. "I'm pretty sure Zeke knows I have them, so I need you to take Belle in one direction and I'm taking Maggie in another. They'll hopefully follow us if we're spotted."

  "I'll be ready when you get here," is all Woolf says before he disconnects the call, and that is the power of true friendship right there. I know he'd lay down his life for me if I asked, and he'd do it for someone I care about too.

  "Bridger," Maggie says in a panic. "I don't want to be separated from Belle."

  "Mags," I say softly, taking my hand and putting it on her thigh to squeeze reassuringly. "I can't protect you both, and if we're being actively hunted, I'd rather lead those fuckers as far away from Belle as I can get them. That means you're bait."

  I look over at her and I see awareness dawn on her face as she understands what I'm saying. I hate myself for calling Maggie "bait" to her face, but I knew she'd understand me. Maggie will do anything to protect her daughter, and she withstood torture in doing so. She would have no qualms about leading an entire gang of bikers on a chase if it would put distance between them and Belle.

  "Ok
ay," she says with a shaky voice. "I understand."

  "Good," I say with another squeeze to her thigh and I about lose it when she leans her head on my shoulder.

  "Thank you," she says quietly.

  I don't take my hand from her thigh.

  "Wheels on the Bus," Belle cries out, and Maggie and I burst out into nervous laughter. Then we sing "The Wheels on the Bus" three times on the way to Woolf's house.

  As promised, he's waiting in front of the detached garage with two bay doors open. Maggie wrestles Belle out of the seat while I collect the bags from the back of the truck. Woolf walks into the garage and around the back of a vintage Hummer. It belonged to his dad and sometimes we'd take that bad boy out four-wheeling on the ranch.

  "You take the Hummer," Woolf says. "If those fuckers come after you, you run them right over."

  "What are you taking?" I ask as I throw the bags in the back, and then walk out to the truck to get Belle's car seat. Callie's already out there, holding a large duffle bag in her hands, so clearly she's going with Woolf and Belle.

  "I'm taking the G550," he says stoically. "It can run motorcycles over too."

  I unlatch the car seat and tug it out, walking in long strides to the G550. Woolf opens the back door while Callie, Maggie, and Belle follow. As I'm putting her car seat in the back on the passenger side, I tell Woolf, "I probably bought some time so I don't think they'll follow us. I'm just being more safe than sorry."

  "How's that?" Woolf asks as he watches me work.

  "Zeke invited me out to the club tonight to work on his old lady," I tell him as I maneuver the seatbelt to secure the car seat.

  "Kill you deader than a doornail if you went," Woolf posits.

  "Yeah," I agree. "Figured that much. Just hope he believed me when I told him I'd be there. If he does, we have a good head start. It'll also help we'll be in vehicles they don't know and coming out of the Double J main entrance versus my driveway."

  "Where are you going?" Woolf asks as I finish and turn toward him.

  "Salt Lake City," I tell him. "Long, flat roads in between so I can see what's coming."

  "Good idea," he agrees.

  "You locked and loaded?" I ask him.

  "To the hilt," he assures me. Woolf owns as many guns as I do. It's what Wyoming men do.

  "Thank you, brother," I say, my voice getting a little choked.

  Woolf studies me for a moment before he pulls me into a hug. He claps my back roughly a few times before holding me tight. I'm not weirded out in the slightest and return the hug hard.

  "Do me a favor," he mutters so only I can hear him. "Try not to get killed. I think you might finally be on your way to a fulfilled life, if you know what I mean."

  I do know what he means.

  He means Maggie, but I'm not about to tell him I have serious doubts about that. Instead, I clap him on the back a few times and pull out of his embrace.

  Woolf turns and holds his arms out to Belle. Maggie hugs her fiercely for a moment, and then kisses her cheek. "I love you, Belle."

  Belle smiles back at her mom and says, "Chee-chew."

  It's Belle talk. I love you is "chee-chew," strawberries are "joppies," and for some weird reason, cereal is "bee-boss". I hope to fucking God I get to hear more Belle talk in my future.

  Chapter 20

  Maggie

  With my elbow propped up on the passenger window ledge and the side of my head resting against the glass, it's easy for me to keep my eyes on the passenger side mirror and look at the long road behind us as we drive through Idaho. We could have cut south through Wyoming on our way to Salt Lake City, but the road tends to be more winding around the buttes. Cutting southwest through Idaho wasn't as direct a route to Salt Lake City, but the terrain was flatter with wide-open spaces so you could see if someone was following you.

  We've lapsed into silence, part hypnotized by the bland terrain and flat roads as well as being lost within our own thoughts. I wasn't expecting this to happen. I'd been lulled into a false sense of security thinking that Belle and I were safe at Bridger's and that it was just a matter of waiting until Mayhem's Mission could be taken down. I'd forgotten the hours of torture that Kayla put me through, and the beatings I took from Zeke when he first caught me without Belle. It was all so easy to put that shit behind me because I had the bright, dazzling persona of Bridger Payne distracting me.

  That, of course, makes me feel incredibly guilty. I should have been more worried about Belle and less worried about whether Bridger would ever fully open up to me. I should have never gotten involved with him on a sexual level and just accepted his hospitality and protection until I had Belle firmly in hand, then I should have taken off and gotten far away from Zeke and Kayla.

  Except I know deep down that wasn't a plausible scenario. I had nowhere to go. No money. No credit. No car. I had no way to support my daughter and ensure her safety. I was stuck depending on Bridger for my entire well-being and that of Belle's.

  Which brings me right back to the beginning, and that is living in Bridger's home, seeing what I want right there in front of me, and acting on it.

  Of course, there is the tiny little fact I need to consider that just this morning as we were riding Lucy together, he was essentially telling me he's not in this for the long haul. He specifically told me that we were too different for this to work out in the end.

  Is he right about that?

  Are his demons better controlled with the way he lives his life now, or can I chase them off? Does he really need The Silo the way he says he does, and if so, could I ever reconcile that fact? Could I share him with that lifestyle?

  Bridger doesn't seem to think so, and that's really the reason he laid things out for me so clearly today.

  I sigh, cut my eyes forward for a few moments, and then gaze back into the side view mirror.

  "You're a very brave woman, Mags," Bridger says softly, and my head swivels to the left to look at him. He has his right hand gripping the top of the steering wheel and his left arm casually resting on the window ledge. He looks so calm and in control right now, and I feel like I'm going to splinter into a million pieces.

  "I don't feel it," I murmur, directing my gaze back out the windshield.

  "You could have insisted on going with Belle," he says softly. "You would have been safe at the governor's mansion."

  I didn't understand at first why Bridger told Woolf and Callie to head to Cheyenne, but he told me as soon as he got in the Hummer and we were heading out of town. He'd told me that Belle would be protected by the governor's security detail. As long as she was inside that house, no one was getting at her, and I marveled at Bridger's brilliance and quick thinking.

  We didn't see one single biker as we left Jackson, and once we crossed over into Idaho, it was pretty clear no one was following us. Still, it was a wise decision for us to split up from Belle because if we'd stayed together and were followed, we were all unsafe until we got to Callie's father. At least this way, there's a very good chance they'll come after me, assuming Belle would be in the back of the Hummer and not well on her way to Cheyenne in the back of a G550 that would never be on Zeke's radar.

  "What do you think's going to happen?" I ask him curiously.

  "Well, if Kyle's ATF handler will call me the fuck back, we'll have a better idea, but you and I will lay low until we figure it out."

  Bridger's first course of action after we crossed into Idaho was to try to get up with Kyle's ATF handler. He'd told Bridger his name was Joseph Kizner and he was working as a used car salesman in Driggs. It only took Bridger a few phone calls to locate the dealership he worked at, as well as a crafty message on the man's voice mail, and we were hoping to hear from him at any time.

  I nod in acceptance. He's basically telling me what I already know, and that is we don't know jack shit. We're flying by the seat of our pants and have no clue if we'll stay hidden for two days or two weeks.

  So that discussion is out, but I might as well turn the dis
cussion back to something we could at least air out. "What do you think will happen with us?" I ask him.

  He doesn't even flinch, but just turns his head lazily to look at me. "Haven't given it much thought."

  I grimace and look away from him. Nice to know I plague his mind so much. I open my mouth to tell him I should definitely move to Coeur D'Alene, but he's apparently not done.

  "I have no clue what your expectations are, Mags," he says softly as he reaches across the interior and gives my thigh a squeeze, all while keeping an eye on the road. "But I'm not ready to give you up yet. Haven't even begun to get my fill of you. So I guess for the immediate future, I'd like you to consider staying around Jackson."

  "In your home?" I ask bluntly. "Me and my two-year-old daughter... you want us to stay?"

  I can tell he wasn't lying when he said he hadn't given it much thought because he sort of blanches at the thought of us being there permanently. In fact, he doesn't even need to answer my question as I see his lack of commitment to that deep of a relationship written all over his face.

  "I'll think about it," I cut in before he can say anything, turning my gaze back to the side view mirror after leaning my head against the window again. "Staying in Jackson, that is. But I'd have to find a job and a place for Belle and me to live."

  I can almost see feel his body exhale with relief, and yeah... that hurts. He wants me close enough to fuck me but not so close as I become a burden on him and his single lifestyle.

  But life hurts sometimes, and I've got bigger things to worry about than whether or not Bridger cares enough about me. Right now, he's doing right by Belle and me by keeping us safe and protected. I owe him the world for that, but at the least he deserves my respect. Said respect will cost me some chunks of my heart being carved out the more I come to realize he's a tougher nut to crack that I'd supposed originally.

  Bridger's phone rings, and he picks it up from the center console.

  "It's him," he says after looking at the incoming number. "Him" being Joseph Kizner.

  After he connects the call, Bridger hits the speakerphone button so I can listen to the conversation. I sit up straight and lean toward the phone as Bridger holds it up in between us.

  "Bridger Payne," he says by way of identifying himself.

  "Yeah... Mr. Payne, this is Joseph Kizner, calling you back."