There’s a coat closet by the front door which looks just about large enough for me to hide in. With the warmth of the day, they shouldn’t have any coats to hang up.
Sparky sees me eyeing it and jerks his head backward. “Soon as we hear movement outside, I’ll hide behind the kitchen door.”
“Be useful to listen too, rather than taking them on straight away,” Twister puts in. “Once they think they’re safe, they might relax and give something away. Perhaps about who ran interference for them.”
I raise and dip my chin. I’ve been thinking about that too.
“It was deliberate, not an accident. Not fuckers thinking they’d pitch their cars against bikes.” Judge frowns. “I’ve been talking to Wills. They had blacked-out windows at the rear. He said he and Cuff were having enough difficulty swerving and keeping shiny side up to notice much about them.”
“Licence plates?” asks the enforcer.
But Judge shakes his head. “I don’t know if Cuff caught sight of them, but Wills didn’t.”
Unbeknownst to Skull, we’re here and waiting at what we presume is his house, or at least, that of the woman who accompanied him today, and who he looks overly friendly with in those photos that keep catching my eye. Who helped him is a mystery he can solve when he returns, or we track down where he’s gone.
An hour passes. Two. Darkness descends. Then, at last, when I’ve about given up for the night, the sound of a car arriving outside reaches my ears. Twister and Judge disappear up the stairs, Sparky into the kitchen, and I ease myself into the coat closet to be out of sight. I crack the door so I can see out, eager to catch sight of my nemesis again.
The door opens. A woman steps inside, then puts her hand up to disarm the alarm and frowns, obviously remembering she hadn’t set it. It’s the woman who’d been with Skull, the woman in the photographs. But she’s alone, without even her child. Fuck. Don’t like the idea of questioning a broad, but if I have to, that’s what I’ll do.
Her eyes flick one way then another. She suspects. But then, she starts lifting the cushions on the couch, and I realise she’s hunting for something.
Her phone rings. She answers, conveniently puts it on speaker, and places it down, then goes on her knees to keep looking for whatever she’s come for.
“Clare.” Skull’s voice comes over clearly even though distant and tinny. He sounds angry. “Come back. It’s not safe.”
“I’m at the house now. There’s no one here, no bikes around, I drove up and down and checked. It’s safe.”
“Clare…”
“Don, it won’t take long to find it. Katy will never sleep unless she has Pooh bear. You know what she’s like.”
“She’ll have to get used to it,” the man she referred to as Don, snarls. “I’ll buy her a new one.”
“She won’t want that. She’s been crying all evening, she’ll make herself ill, Don. It’s here somewhere.”
“Fucking three-dollar toy…”
“That’s she’s carried around since she could walk. That’s all I want, Don.” She stands up and frowns, then walks into the kitchen. Christ, I hope Sparky’s hidden himself. Making her voice louder, she calls out, “Can you remember where she put it?”
“I don’t know where she put it.” Don sounds like he’s in despair. It’s Skull, I’m sure of it, but the timbre of his voice has changed. The man I knew would have thrown a few f-bombs in, but even in his worried state, damn seems the worst he can use. “Clare. These men are dangerous. If they find out who I am.”
“Well it’s good I came back. We hadn’t set the alarm.”
“Find the damn bear, set it and get out. Clare, please. I’m worried about you.”
So he should be. I grin to myself.
“I’m going upstairs. It must be in her room.”
Leaving the phone where it is, she heads for the stairs. Easing myself out, using the stealth skills I learned in the Army, I move without making a sound and place myself behind her, pressing the red key to end the call as I pass by the table where she left it.
Halfway up she pauses and gasps. Then turning, starts running back down, straight into my arms which go around her like a brace.
“Don,” she screams. Then again when there’s no answer from the phone, “Don!” The device starts ringing again, but I have no intention of answering it.
Twister’s eyes meet mine. “Restrain her,” I instruct.
As I expected, he’s got zip ties in one of his pockets. She struggles and screams. While we know there are no close neighbours, Judge runs back upstairs, and returns fast with a scarf which he uses to gag her.
I place a call of my own, quickly arranging for Red to send a truck for us.
Sparky approaches. “How the fuck didn’t she see you?” I hiss.
“Fuckin’ civilians,” he grins. “I was standing right behind the door.”
Unable to communicate with her voice, Clare uses her eyes to plead and beg, but I have no mercy.
“Skull your man?” I ask, knowing I have to, for now, confine myself to questions which can be answered either yes or no.
Her head shakes in confusion.
I look around, find what I’m seeking, then take it back to her. I tap the man in the picture holding the baby. “This is the man you call Don?”
She nods, her eyes wide and scared. I have no mercy.
“This your baby?” I tap the photo again.
Another nod. Her throat works as she swallows.
“His?”
I clench my jaw waiting for her response. If she says yes, it will confirm what I’m already thinking. He was in a relationship with another woman all the time he was cosying up to Mel.
A third nod.
“You married?” asks Twister, almost casually.
Slowly, her head dips and then rises.
If Skull hadn’t already signed his death warrant, he certainly has now.
Outside I hear an engine. Judge opens the door and confirms, “It’s Crash.”
A minute later, the Vegas VP appears in the doorway. “Let’s get out of here.”
I’m wasting no time. Skull will be going frantic by now. I’ve ignored it, but that phone has kept ringing. I leave it where it is and follow Twister leading Clare out of the house.
Twister puts her in the middle of the back seat, then sits beside her. Her tied hands twist together in her lap, and as I get in the other door, sandwiching her between us, I can feel her body trembling. Sparky squeezes in beside me.
Judge sits up front with Crash.
None of us speak on the drive back to the compound. That’s done on purpose, not knowing what’s happening, not witnessing friendly repartee, not even knowing where they are going, those are all things which can soften a captive up and help get them in the mindset for talking.
Red is waiting for us. He cocks his eyebrow at me. When I mouth ‘basement’, both rise.
I push her down on a chair—gently, I’m thinking she’s innocent except for the information she holds—then I remove the makeshift gag from her mouth.
“Where am I?” she asks, her eyes flitting wildly from left to right. “Who are you?” Her panic seems to increase the more she takes in of her surroundings, and I’m not surprised.
I haven’t been down here much before, and it’s changed since the last time I was here. New equipment for a start which I suspect might have something to do with Rope and Cuff. The spanking bench probably comes in handier for them, than as a torture device, though the women they bring back might see it differently. There’s a St Andrews cross, and a wall where whips and crops are hanging.
A variety of restraints, some quite interesting are also on display.
Then, on the other side, there are pincers, hammers, knives and saws. Hmm. Dual purpose for certain. The soundproofing I know has been installed probably works for both.
Red catches my eye and winks.
Clare, though, her eyes go impossibly wide as she views everything around her.
“What the hell is this place?” she cries out. “It looks like a torture chamber.”
Red glances around as if he hadn’t seen it before, then chuckles. “It does, doesn’t it, doll?”
My face stays straight. I nod at Twister who’s followed us down.
Red steps in front of her. “It’s Clare, isn’t it?” When she nods, he points to Twister. “You know what an enforcer is, Clare?”
She swallows rapidly and shakes her head.
“Well, he’s the man who gets information by whatever means. I happen to know Twister is very good at his job, no one leaves here alive without telling him what he wants to know. You know how he got his handle?”
Another shake.
“I’ll give you a clue. People who don’t talk, quickly find out how twisted he is.”
“I don’t know what you want to know,” she cries out. “I don’t know who you are or why I’m here. I’m a part-time librarian, a housewife, and a mother. I don’t know anything.”
“To be honest Clare, you look like a nice lady,” Red tells her. “And we have no beef with you. But we’d like to have a talk with your husband. Now, you can start by giving us his phone number.”
Her head moves side to side. She sounded scared for herself previously, now she’s gone white, and when she speaks, her voice has gone hoarse. “If I tell you, you'll trick him to come here. You’ll hurt him.”
I motion to Red, he nods. “Clare,” I start, “we want to talk to Skull, Don or whatever his name is. We want to ask him some questions, that’s all. Have we hurt you?”
“You kidnapped me,” she accuses, sulkily.
“Were we rough?”
She eyes her hands still tied. I step up and though she flinches when she sees me produce my knife, she relaxes when she sees all I intend to do is to cut the zip tie off.
“Give us Don’s phone number, sweetheart.” I soften my voice.
“What will you do if I don’t?” Her voice hardens. “You’ll hurt me then?” Her eyes flick nervously toward the implements on the wall.
Red puts his hand on my arm, and gently moves me back, standing in front of her himself. “You see Clare, Skull’s got some answering to do. To us, and maybe to you, and definitely to a woman upstairs who’s five months pregnant.”
Her brow creases, her eyes widen, and her cheeks flush.
Red nods. “The father is Skull. Donavan Jordan, as you know him.”
She gasps, and her hand covers her mouth. Her head is shaking violently now. “No. You’ve got the wrong man. Don would never cheat on me. He’d never do that. That’s something he’d never do…” Her head bows, then she raises it again. Her voice now cunning. “That woman, she’s lying.”
I bristle, but Red shoots me a warning look, before turning back to Clare. “Is she? Perhaps your husband should have the chance to defend himself.”
“You’re wrong,” she says strongly.
“Then let’s give him a call so he can tell us the truth himself.”
Now her eyes become slits as what she’s been told starts to sink in.
No longer so certain in her initial denial? Perhaps.
What’s she going to do? Some women, if they find their husband’s been cheating on them will turn a blind eye, telling themselves he’s a man after all. Finding it within themselves to forgive them. Others? Well, they’re out for blood. Hard to tell which camp Clare falls into.
I get the impression she might veer toward the latter one when she suddenly rattles off a number, so fast I have to ask her to repeat it, then key it into my phone. Then, as she’d done an hour or so before, put it on speaker.
I’m not surprised when it’s immediately answered. “Who’s this?”
“Pyro.”
“Where’s Clare?” I’m not surprised it’s the first thing he says. “If you’ve hurt her…”
“We’ve got her,” I confirm. “Pretty bitch, your wife. Of course, she might not be so pretty much longer.”
“You touch one hair on her head…”
“Whether I do or not is up to you, Don.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Come to the Vegas Satan’s Devils MC compound.”
“You’ll kill me,” he breathes.
Clare gasps.
“We might, we might not. But if you don’t come, your wife will suffer. Every minute you’re late, we’ll treat her like we treated you, remember? I assure you the basement in Vegas is just as well equipped as the one in Pueblo, and Twister is as good an enforcer as Mace.” He’ll know exactly what I’m referring to.
“Clare’s got nothing she can tell you.”
“Neither did you.” It was the reason he took so much punishment. We were torturing him for information he couldn’t give. “Didn’t stop us then, won’t stop us now.” Well, it had. As soon as we knew the truth, we stopped. But it’s likely in his panic, all he’ll remember is the pain we inflicted first, and imagine it happening to the woman he presumably loves.
He’d told Mel he loved her.
His voice hardens. “I’m warning you, Pyro. You touch her, and it will be the last thing you do. One scratch, one bruise…”
Twister steps up behind Clare and yanks on her hair. It surprises her rather than hurts her, but the scream she lets out is convincing.
“I need a couple of hours.” Skull’s voice sounds desperate now.
“You’ve got one.” I start to rattle off the address, but he interrupts.
“I know where it is!”
Does he now? Interesting.
I end the phone call, then look at his wife as Twister steps around to her front.
“Sorry about that,” he tells her, not sounding apologetic at all.
Her hands are already up, retying her ponytail, proving she hadn’t been hurt if worrying her hair is out of place is her main concern. She looks annoyed she’s been used.
“You know what your man’s been up to?” I ask her. “He must go missing for months, years. You know what he does?”
Before she can answer, Red steps up, and takes me to one side. “Just spoke to Demon. He said he’s catching the first flight that he can, but he’s okay if we do the questioning. Any vote must wait until he’s here.”
I nod. That’s fine. Suddenly I realise we’ve got an audience. I had been vaguely aware of the thuds of boots that have been echoing down the stairs but hadn’t realised that most of the club have crowded into the basement. I don’t give one fuck. Skull had disrespected every member; doesn’t matter which chapter he’d joined. At the very least, and if he can come up with a justification for his actions which makes any sense—doubtful, where Mel’s concerned—we’ll be making sure he leaves the club properly with a beatdown. And if I have my way, any vote will make sure he leaves his life too.
Turning back to Clare, I repeat my last question.
This time, she replies. “It’s his job. He doesn’t speak to me about it.”
Once again, Red’s eyes catch mine. He flashes a message at me, and I raise my chin back.
“What’s his job?” Red roars, stepping forward fast as though he’s lost patience. “Who does he fuckin’ work for?”
Stubbornly she shuts her mouth.
Red’s unperturbed as he snaps, “He a cop?”
I’m watching her carefully and see the betraying twitch of her face. A confirmation of what I’ve gradually been coming to suspect. The unmarked cars stopping Wills and Cuff was the first clue, and what we found of Don in that house wasn’t the biker we knew.
Well, won’t be the first time a cop’s disappeared. Only problem is, she would have to go as well, and no Devil likes killing a woman. Though it might be kinder than leaving her wondering, to suffer like Mel, never knowing what happened to her man after he’d said goodbye that last time.
But they’ve got a kid. Fuck, more complications.
I’m glad Demon’s flying in. Right now, I’m representing Colorado, but I can’t see further than justice for my woman. M
y prez though, he’ll do right for the club. Maybe Skull will walk out of here alive, but meet me alone, one dark night, when he least expects it, and then I’ll make him pay the ultimate price.
Red continues to question her. “He goes away for a long time, Clare. You ever see him in that time?”
He’d been with the Devils eighteen months straight. Except for the month he disappeared fuck knows where. Though now I suspect I know who he ran to.
“When he’s on a job, no.”
“Except nine, ten months ago?” I ask to confirm it.
Her expressive face answers for her again.
Now it’s me pushing Red out of the way. “You know what he got up to?” I don’t wait for her to respond or not. I tell her myself. “He became one of us, a member of the Satan’s Devils, acted the part well, too. Soon as he was patched in, he went with the whores.”
A slight tightening of her face and a shake of her head suggests she’d rather not know. Then she gives me words. “If he’d otherwise have drawn attention to himself, Don would have done what he needed to do.”
Why do women come up with excuses?
“Possibly, Clare, though we’d not have thought that suspicious. But, it wasn’t just him fuckin’ a whore to keep up appearances, it was worse than that, Clare. Much worse. He decided to take a woman as his own. Claimed her, which in our world is as good as marrying her. He lived with her. Slept with her every fuckin’ night. Forgot to use a condom, twice. Then he upped and left leaving her pregnant.” What Skull had done makes my voice harden.
She’s now hanging onto my every word.
“He come home and fuck you? After he’d been with his old lady without a condom?” Her widened eyes suggest yes. “And what about her? What about the woman he said he loved, the woman he’d promised to spend his whole life with? He never came back, left with no warning. She found she was pregnant with no man to tell. You’ve got a kid, Clare. What if your husband left for a job and never came back? Disappeared off the face of the earth and you never had any answers. Can you imagine that, Clare? Can you imagine the fucking hurt?”
“No.” Her hands cover her face, her denial I suspect more that those things had actually occurred than her answering my question.
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