by Stacia Leigh
While she warmed his back and hugged his shoulders, he pressed her legs into his sides, hoping to reassure her. They would get through this. Her legs would start working, he’d drop her to her feet, and they’d run. At least Pitty didn’t look like the type to exert too much energy engaging in a chase. The big guy looked bored with the whole operation. He’d checked-out. Finally, there was a plus.
Greer blazed through the brush away from the Powerhouse Inn, and Will followed with Miki on his back. The elf tailgated them, clipping the backs of Will’s boots every other step or so, and Pitty tromped along behind with Will’s backpack slung over one shoulder. He grunted whenever elf-man said something stupid, which seemed often enough for the two miles they must’ve hiked.
When Miki joined in, Will knew she was starting to feel better.
“I have to go to the bathroom, so sue me,” Miki said from over Will’s shoulder.
“You know what’s amazing to me?” Greer sniped at her as he pushed a branch out of the way, then let it fly, snapping Will in the face. Ow! That stung, asshole. “It’s amazing your mouth still works when nothing else seems to.”
“Listen, Greer.” Will chimed in. “I’m sweating here…and I got aches and pains…all over, dude. You don’t know this…but I was in a serious accident…last…week…and my meds are in my backpack…the one Pitty’s carrying…and if we could just take…a break—”
“That’s it!” Greer stopped short, flinging his arms out.
“Dude…” Will leaned forward and panted. He could feel rivers of sweat running between his shoulder blades. Jesus, he was out of shape. A year of beer drinking had made him soft and weak. Of course, he had Miki on his back. She was a small fry, but with each step, she felt more like a two-ton Tony. Before he lost any more strength, it was time to vacate the situation.
Miki pressed her knee caps into Will’s waist, a sign she could feel her legs again. He signaled back with a gentle squeeze. They were on the same page; it’s go time.
“I bet we’ve walked for all of ten minutes,” Greer complained. “So if you two whiners don’t shut up, I’ll stick my boot in your arses and kick your lazy carcasses down the ravine. Got it? Now, let’s move, because if our ride drives off and leaves us, I’ll kill you straight up. I really will. I don’t care what Ham says.” Greer turned and stormed through the trees with renewed angry energy, muttering under his breath. “I think the bastard has lost his ever-lovin’ mind. ‘Bring William Sullivan to the cabin,’ he says. ‘In one piece,’ he says. What a damn idiot.”
He grumbled some more, but Will stopped listening and let more distance grow between them. Elf passed on his left, and Pitty came up on his right. He towered over Will and jabbed him in the bicep with a finger as unyielding as a tire iron. What was one more fat bruise on his already black and blue body?
“Ow.” Will scowled and loosened his arms from around Miki’s legs, so she could slip to the ground. Her arms went slack at his neck, and she eased down his back to stand on both legs. “Pitty, let me take my pain meds, dude. I’m dying here.” Will squeezed Miki’s shoulder to steady her, but more importantly, to put her on high alert.
Get ready to bolt because this was it!
With his feet planted in the dirt, Pitty remained stoic, his deep-set eyes looking down the length of his nose. He didn’t show an ounce of surprise when he saw Miki could stand.
Will braced himself, half-expecting Pitty to put the backpack down, but he didn’t. Miki took a short step to the side.
Get set…
Wait!
Will’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought the plan through. Mom’s ashes were in the bag. The apple pie! He wanted to swipe it out of Pitty’s hands on the run, but—the giant was an unmoving wall.
Mom?
Oh, God, now what?
Miki took another step. Leaves crunched.
Will turned when Miki yelled, “Go!” and lunged off the trail into the thick shrubs. His heart shifted into overdrive, and his breaths went shallow. She did it; Miki ran. His eyes met Pitty’s hard face, and in a split second, Will snapped to attention.
He charged into the bramble, barely feeling the branches as they lashed across his face and snagged at his Ghetto Gramps. He hurdled through the brush with a burn tearing through his chest. Forget the broken toe. Don’t slow down. Keep moving. There was only one direction to go—straight ahead toward the Powerhouse Inn. The crashing and hollering behind him barely touched his consciousness.
Go…go…go!
One foot in front of the other.
Push it.
Get to Miki—to her bike and to safety.
But the farther he ran, the more distance he put between him and his backpack. He didn’t have the ashes. He didn’t have the apple pie. He didn’t have his mom. His thoughts grabbed at his mind, like the thorny blackberry vine wrapped around his ankle.
He stumbled.
CHAPTER 14: Lights Out
“I like you, Will. You know I do, right?” The elf said calmly.
“I…don’t like the way you like me,” Will said, staring into the unwavering black hole of a Smith & Wesson revolver. Turns out, Pitty had some motivation after all. He apparently played a little college football and charged after Will like he was playing to win. Sacked at twenty yards.
He and Miki never stood a chance.
“I can respect your point of view. I’m a reasonable man. But you…” Elf chuckled and lowered the barrel, pointing it at the dirt. “You ran. We’re friends, remember? Friends should trust each other.” He nodded to Pitty, who jerked Will onto his feet by his shoulder seams. “Do we want a walking man or a dead weight?”
“Kids…” Greer sighed and tightened his lower lip over the bulge of snuff while he rubbed his forehead. “At this juncture, let’s try dead weight. We need to get outta here. I ain’t missing my ride and walking up Heart Attack Hill for nobody. I don’t care whose plans are what.”
Pitty turned Will to face him, then rolled his fingers into a fist the size of a pork roast and ratcheted it back.
“Not his face!” Greer barked. “I don’t want blood all over the place.”
“Hey, now!” Will’s eyes widened, and his hands flew up. “Wait—”
Clunk.
Lights out.
* * *
Miki froze with shock.
“Not so hard! We’re not lookin’ to kill him.” Greer glanced at the sky and threw his hands up in exasperation. “My circus…my monkeys,” he muttered.
“Will!” Miki dropped to her knees in the damp grass and made a mad scramble to crawl to him, but a hand gripped the hair at the back of her head and snapped her upright until she skimmed the earth on tippy toes. Her neck was cranked back at a sharp angle to the point it was painful to swallow, and her scalp burned where her hair held on for dear life.
“Looks like those legs of yours are working now,” hot breath whispered next to her ear, and the balmy scent of stale coffee and tobacco drifted past her nose. “So walk. No more boyfriend to carry you, and I ain’t doin’ it. I’m a patched member for God sakes. Not some giddy prospect.” Greer shoved her, and she stumbled, falling forward on her knees, back where she started. “Get up and get to movin’.”
A wave of hopelessness washed over her, and she squeezed her eyelids shut, but the salty tears pushed passed the seams. Not only did she have vomit breath, but she had mud in her teeth and leaves in her hair from her failed getaway attempt. She’d darted off with quivering limbs and clown feet. Needless to say, it turned into an immediate face plant.
Within ten minutes, Pitty had hauled Will back only for the hotel guy, the elf, to cold-cock him with the butt-end of his gun, dropping Will like a bag of wet sand. Was Will alive? God, if his skull wasn’t cracked, he’d have a goose egg the size of Mount Rainier for sure. How much more could his poor body take?
Miki stared at Will’s green sweatshirt, looking for signs of life. The fold of fabric across his chest moved slightly, and his eyelashes flutter
ed against his cheekbones. He was breathing.
With her hands in the mud, she pushed off and struggled to stand. There was no point in wiping her eyes; she was already a train wreck, so why bother? Besides, she was being controlled by these mongrels and no longer her own woman. There was no need to put on a pretty face. God. What would they do to her? To Will? Beat, rape, torture…what did they want? She groaned weakly, and more tears fell.
Greer studied Pitty, then the short elf. He glanced down at Will before lifting his dark brows in a question, Which one of you is carrying the kid?
“Let’s see…” the elf scratched his pork chop sideburn and looked up at the pine boughs. “I’m only five-nine, which puts Sullivan at six feet, easily. We wanna make good time, right?” He looked at Pitty and grinned. “You gettin’ this?”
Pitty closed his deep-set eyes and slowly inhaled and exhaled as if he were trying to find his calming center. When his lids finally opened, he dropped Will’s backpack and leaned down to manhandle Will’s limp body up over his shoulders. All Miki could do was watch from the sidelines and leak tears while she screamed in her head, Careful, you f-ugly bastard. He has a bruised spleen! She wanted to step forward with arms swinging, but she was a watered-down version of herself, weak and dirty and pathetic.
“Let’s go…” Pitty gasped. “Fast! He’s heavy.” He grunted and bent his knees to take Will’s weight.
“Well, he’s gotta be a buck ninety…two-hundred pounds tops,” the elf said with his unusually high voice as he shrugged into Will’s backpack and adjusted the straps. “What do you think, Greer?” he asked over his shoulder ready to get his chitchat on. Then, he sauntered through the brush, following Pitty, who had Will slumped over his back.
“I’ve got one of those feelings again, like we’ve made a humongous mistake with these two.” Greer clamped his hand around Miki’s bicep, propelled her in front of him, and prodded her to keep walking. “What’s this Sullivan kid packing, and how is he worth anything? Why, he’s so green behind the ears, it’s embarrassing.”
“Green like his track suit,” the elf said.
“Sure, whatever. Just hustle, would ya? Pitty’s hauling balls with our prisoner,” Greer said, giving Miki another jab between her shoulder blades.
She stumbled and more tears of frustration spilled from her eyes. She sniffed. The word hopeless echoed against her temples. Will was unconscious, she hadn’t talked to her mom in days, and the guys didn’t even know where she was. A jarring sob escaped her lips.
“Here we go,” Greer muttered with disdain.
“You’re cute, considering.” The elf turned and walked backwards while he studied her. His green eyes glinted in the rays of light, which flickered through the heavy branches. “I like your hair. Blue’s my favorite color. What’s your name?”
What did she know about kidnappings? The first rule was don’t ever be in a position to get caught…duh. The second? Be a nice human, not a target. Create a bond. Miki wiped under her eyes with her finger tips, then put on a brave front. “Michelle,” she said with forced friendliness. “What’s yours?”
He looked down at the toes of his boots and chuffed out a breath like it would be absurd to give her his real name. He lifted his gaze and smiled. “You can call me Honey Bunny.”
“I…” Miki covered her mouth with her hand and tried to choke back yet another sob. She was alone with these two men. Pitty and Will were no longer in sight. This was not going as planned. Think! What was rule number three?
“Shut your clap trap before she turns this into a full-fledged crying jag,” Greer said. “Chafes worse than wiping your arse with forty-grit. Now, I haven’t tried it, but I know not to go there.” He chuckled and spat somewhere behind her. “Besides, nothing’s worse than an ugly crier.”
Ugly crier! Was that even true? Normally, she wasn’t big on wallowing in self-pity, so any waterworks had a narrow time slot. Squirt, sniff, and be done. But today marked the first time she could remember feeling completely feeble and powerless. She couldn’t help it; the wimpy tears overwhelmed her.
So now who should she believe? Trip, who’d told her she was beautiful and not to accept crumbs, or the greasy creep behind her? An ugly crier…
She pulled up the hem of her shirt and wiped her nose on top of where she’d wiped it before. The more she walked, the less her leg muscles trembled. Not only was her strength returning, step by step, but she had thick-soled biker boots on her side. When the opportunity presented itself, the toe of her foot was going to meet Greer’s privates in a hostile greeting. She was going to put a lot of effort into ringing those berries, and like her dad said, Maybe we get answers, maybe we don’t, but we can have fun while we’re swinging.
Miki pulled her shoulders back and straightened. She was a lot like her dad, tough and single minded. Her brain worked like a bear trap. Once she got an idea in her head, she couldn’t shake it free. Dad was like that, too. It’s how he became president of the Hides of Hell. It was his goal, so he chiseled away at it nonstop, then drove it home. She could do the same, couldn’t she?
Yes, she could, for Will’s sake and her own. Miki forcibly blinked, squelching back the tears. Watch it, you dip-sucking, P-skull. Because you’re mine.
Wow, that felt good. She couldn’t say it out loud, but thinking it was enough to fuel her strength.
As they trudged along single file, crunching twigs and pushing branches aside, Miki’s mind sped through the weapons inventory. It was possible there were no bullets in the chambers of Honey Bunny’s gun. Fortunately, he hadn’t pointed the revolver at her, so she didn’t get a good look. Would the green-eyed goon have risked cold-cocking Will with the grip if it had? Maybe it didn’t even have bullets. Then again…
Maybe it did.
Where was Will’s knife? He’d sliced the tent open with it the night before, yet he didn’t throw it on the ground when Greer told him to empty his pockets. Pitty had patted Will down, but the only comment he’d made was calling dibs on the twenty folded up in the cuff of Will’s sock. Miki stared at Will’s backpack in front of her. Was his knife in the side pocket?
All her stuff was packed neatly in her saddle bags: cell phone, pepper spray, wallet, and a first aid kit. Oh, and a box of Good & Plenty, the candy Will bought for her at the gas station a couple days ago. A matter of no consequence since Will had shoved her stuff under the shrubs, sight unseen back at the Powerhouse Inn.
The only things she had on her were biker boots, a row of silver rings on her right hand, and a black survival bracelet. As for weapons, she always carried knees, elbows, and fists. She’d thrown several punches in her life, but only one had actually connected. A guy was on the receiving end of a fat lip for getting grabby on the dance floor. Otherwise, throwing an upper cut was all new territory.
Greer grabbed her arm, jerking her to a stop. “Our ride’s here.” He swung her around to face him and looked beyond her shoulder. “Zip her up,” he said.
The elf, Oh Short One—there was no way she was calling him Honey Bunny—grabbed one wrist, then the other, and cranked them both behind her back, cinching them together with a thick zip tie that cut into her skin.
“Don’t worry,” his light voice whispered from over her shoulder, and he cupped her biceps. It was meant to be intimate, and warning goosebumps rippled down the length of her arms under her coat sleeves. “You’re safe with me. I’ll keep my eyes on you.”
Miki swallowed and opened her mouth to suck in more air. She felt short of breath as her heart thrummed in her chest. Fight or flight…fight or flight. Could she run with her arms tied behind her back? Should she knee Greer in the nuts right now? How could she save Will? If she escaped, would they kill him? What if this opportunity turned out to be the only one that came along?
Greer brushed his friend aside and walked Miki backwards while grinning into her face. He was disgusting with that fine cut chew stuck in his teeth. She looked away as the backs of her thighs hit something hard.
Greer grabbed her ankles and shoved her legs in before slamming the double doors. It was dark except for the light crisscrossing above them from the windows.
She inched onto her side to study Will’s pale face, his dark lashes, the mole on his cheek, his beauty mark. She pushed her foot against his shin, and his eyes opened. Melty-licious brown.
“Will,” Miki mouthed, but he closed his lids as someone clambered into the van from the passenger side.
It rocked back and forth, but before the door shut, Greer’s heavy metal ring tone cut through the cab. He answered it gruffly, then fell silent as a muffled voice squawked into his ear.
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. We’re at the van ready to head up—Well, the hill’s a bitch, and the kid—” Greer’s annoying drawl cut off as the van’s engine turned over. “Uh-huh. I tell ya this whole thing seems—Ham said what? I thought he was supposed to be here—Oh…I didn’t know. Uh-huh, later.”
Gravel crunched, and the van rocked again as the other guys clambered in.
“Criminy,” Greer said. “Can’t get a word in edgewise. Alright, guys. Apparently, The Almighty Ham is stuck in a Mexican standoff with the other William Sullivans. Tough crowd, but relief is on its way. We’ll throw the kids in the tank and hold ’em there ’til tonight.”
Miki glanced at Will to find his eyes locked on hers, open and alert. He’d heard it, too. Bill and Liam were alive—but for how long? Where were they, and what was going to happen tonight?
The van lurched forward and rumbled up a steep incline, bouncing off rocks and sinking in holes. The gravel crunched under the tires, and the undercarriage squeaked and groaned from the slow, uneven drive.