Confession (Steel Kings MC Book 2)

by Jamie Garrett

  Callie laughed softly. “Actually, they’re a biker club. There’s a big difference. They’re not a bad bunch of guys, really. Oh, I know they can be intimidating. No doubt about that.” She offered a soft laugh. “I can’t tell you how many of them were, and still are, very leery of Grady . . . his nickname is Merc.” Callie reached for the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and absently picked at the label before looking up at Nikki. “What happened to you? What’s your name?”

  Nikki said nothing as Callie continued to chat away. “The Jokers are bad news,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure no one was listening. “The guys here, they’ve had a long-running feud with the Jokers for years.” She put the bottle of peroxide back onto the table and eyed Nikki with curiosity. “I can tell you a few things that might put your mind at ease—”

  “At ease?” Nikki scoffed. “They kidnapped me!”

  Callie offered a half shrug and a glance of commiseration. “They’ll take care of you,” she said softly.

  “I don’t need anybody to take care of me! I want to go home! Are they going to let me go?”

  Callie didn’t answer that question directly, but offered a tiny bit of information. “Levi is the president of the club. You’ll usually find him upstairs over the saloon. That’s where he keeps his offices. And his sleeping quarters.”

  “Offices? The leader of the motorcycle gang . . . club . . . keeps an office?”

  Callie shrugged. “Sure. Someone’s got to keep track of it all, don’t they?”

  Tracking things? Offices? “I’m not sure I understand,” she finally admitted. “This cabin is his now? The tall dude who kidnapped me?”

  Callie frowned slightly, leaning back in her chair to eye her. “You mean rescued, don’t you?”

  “No actually, Callie, I don’t,” Nikki said. “The door’s locked and the windows are stuck. Am I allowed to just walk out of here?”

  Callie picked up a cotton ball and fingered it, eyeing her. “And where would you go?”

  “Back home, of course. Where do you think I would go?” She wasn’t trying to be sarcastic. She wasn’t even trying to sound sarcastic. She felt confused. She didn’t understand any of this.

  “The Jokers are bad news.”

  “You said that already, and I knew that. They’re all over Albuquerque—” She clamped her mouth shut. Stupid! She blabbed so easily. But the lady, Callie, made it so easy. She had just divulged where she lived. Next thing you know, she—

  “Would you mind telling me your name?”Callie asked softly. “I want to help you. And if we can, I know the club would help you as well.”

  “Why would they?” Nikki asked, wary and cautious. “If they were so interested in helping me, why am I here now? Will the tall guy let me go?”

  “Sticks? That’s his club name. Kind of apropos though, isn’t it?”

  “What’s his real name?” Nikki wasn’t sure why she cared, but she couldn’t tamp down a surge of curiosity about the gritty, handsome man who rescued her and had made her his own captive—if only perhaps temporarily.

  “How about we trade?” Callie smiled, leaning back in the chair and tossing the cotton ball onto the table. “I’ve already told you that my name is Callie. Come on, tell me your name. What’s that going to hurt? And I’ll tell you who Sticks is.”

  Nikki wasn’t at all sure she could trust this woman. She seemed friendly enough, didn’t seem to be acting with guile, but what did she know about motorcycle gangs—motorcycle club members? She wasn’t naïve, but she wasn’t exactly street-smart either, not at this level. Maybe just her first name. That wouldn’t be such a big deal, would it? And maybe she was right. Maybe she was telling the truth. “My name is Nikki.”

  Callie smiled, teeth flashing. “Nice to meet you, Nikki from Albuquerque.” She extended her hand, and Nikki glanced at it for a moment and then shook it. Strong hands, short fingernails. Capable hands. “You really the fiancée of one of the gang—club—members?”

  A slight flush crept into Callie’s cheeks as her smile broadened. “I am.”

  Nikki couldn’t help but see the happiness shining in the woman’s eyes, the way her lips curved up in a smile and most noticeably, the softness that took over her face. So far, it seemed that everything she had assumed about this motorcycle club was different than that of the Jokers. She had a hundred questions, but right now, her main priority was getting the hell away from here, somehow finding a way back to Albuquerque, and then finding out where her sister was.

  “And the tall dude?”

  Callie laughed softly. “That’s Seth. He’s the vice president of the club. The Steel Kings.” She paused as she eyed Nikki. “Do you know why you were kidnapped, Nikki? Do you know where they were taking you?”

  “No.” How could she tell anyone that she allowed herself to be kidnapped? They’d think she wasn’t only stupid, but crazy. She certainly couldn’t tell Callie or anyone else that she was considering trying to get kidnapped again so she could find her sister. That sounded stupid just thinking it, but it was the only plan she had. Nevertheless, she wasn’t naïve enough to think that the Jokers gang wasn’t splintered into many smaller groups. They didn’t all ride together. But she knew one thing. Gossip traveled. In any environment—hospitals, schools, any business, any group of people was riddled with gossip. That meant that most of the Jokers would at the very least have heard a rumor about a kidnapping. Then again, maybe kidnappings were so routine for the Jokers that one more didn’t make much of an impression. She just didn’t know.

  “No, I don’t know why I was kidnapped. I don’t know where they were taking me.” She wanted to say more, she really did, but she couldn’t trust anyone, no matter how polite and nonthreatening they seemed to be.

  Nikki had no idea how the hierarchy in a motorcycle club worked, but if Levi was the president and Seth was vice president, that made him pretty big person in the all-around scheme of things. He must have some clout. Maybe enough clout to let her go. She just had to play her cards right.

  7

  Seth

  “All I know is that her name is Nikki,” Callie told Seth. She slapped the single key into his palm. He’d waited along the path that twisted around from the cinderblock cabin back to the main structure while she visited with the woman, alternating between standing with his legs planted and arms crossed and fidgeting like an idiot.

  He frowned. “Nikki? Nikki what?”

  “I don’t know, Seth. She’s pretty tightlipped about everything. Maybe she’s still in shock. Maybe she’s been intimidated or threatened. I did find out one other bit of information, but I don’t know if it’ll help you much.”

  “What?”

  “She’s from Albuquerque.” Callie frowned and glanced over her shoulder to the cabin before turning back to Seth. “I can’t imagine how horrible it is, to be kidnapped. When are you going to let her go?”

  The question was a logical one, expected even, but Seth still didn’t know how to answer. “What’s to say the Jokers won’t be waiting for her to show up? For that matter, how is she going to get back to Albuquerque?”

  Callie made a face. “You might want to consider dropping her off at the police station. They can take it from there. Or the bus station. Or a plane ticket. Or—”

  “Enough already,” he sighed, shaking his head. “We’re already involved, and we don’t need the law coming around here. You know how Levi feels about that. And Grady.”

  “Then what are you going to do? Keep her locked up in that stuffy cabin of yours? By the way, you might want to consider opening a window. You can hardly breathe in there!”

  Seth ignored the comment. Keeping her invited a whole host of problems, including frustrating the fuck out of him having to keep his hands to himself, but at the same time he didn’t want to release her and put her at risk that the Jokers would find her again. The second time around would not be pretty. He didn’t want blood on his hands. But he didn’t trust her, and maybe that was
the bottom line. He just couldn’t figure out why.

  “What’s your impression?”

  Callie looked up at him and shrugged. “I think she’s scared, and she has every reason to be. I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep her here against her will. She was kidnapped, Seth. And now you’ve pretty much kidnapped her from the Jokers. Do you think that’s fair?”

  He scowled. “So you think I should just turn her loose?”

  “What other option do you have? Is she your captive?”

  His arms crossed over his chest again without him consciously moving. “Is she tied up? Is she dead? Have I stuck her in a box with a lock on it?”

  “Just because you haven’t hurt her doesn’t mean she’s not being hurt.”

  Every muscle in his body tightened at her words. Why the hell was he so mad at Grady’s girl? He’d been thinking exactly the same thing himself while pacing the path, waiting for Callie to emerge. And yet to have someone else think he was doing wrong by Nikki. That made him mad as hell. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I think you know.” With a shake of her head, she continued down the path, then veered into the parking lot toward her car. She unlocked the door and climbed in, gave him one more pointed look, and then started the engine. Without another look, she pulled away, only the sound of crunching gravel and the low rumble of her car engine echoing in the stillness of the night.

  He stared after her until the red brake lights disappeared over a rise and then turned to look back at the cabin. No, he couldn’t keep her against her will. That would make him no better than a Joker. But he had to know more before he let her go. Why? He wasn’t sure. He should go up to talk to Levi, ask him for advice, but this was something he had to do on his own. With firm resolve, he made his way toward his cabin and placed his hand on the old metal doorknob. It felt cold, the night air chilling as the ground relinquished its heat from the day.

  He slid the key into the lock and turned the knob, taking a deep breath before he stepped into the cabin. The woman—Nikki—sat at his makeshift kitchen table, Callie’s plastic bag and supplies scattered on top of it. A brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide, several cotton balls, a couple of sterile pads were still in their paper wrappers. Nikki didn’t turn when he entered.

  “Nikki?”

  She finally deigned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Seth?”

  Her tone was definitely not friendly. More sarcastic than anything else. “You okay?”

  She shook her head. “Actually, I’m not.”

  He frowned, hesitant. Was it too late to get Callie back? “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” She placed extra emphasis on the last word and then offered a humorless and short-lived laugh. “Let me see. I was kidnapped by a motorcycle gang, rescued, barely survived a gunfight at some warehouse in the middle of nowhere, and then another motorcycle gang—excuse me, club—supposedly rescued me from them, and yet now I find myself held against my will by them too.” She shook her head, placed a finger on her chin, and looked at him, eyebrows raised again. “Does that sound about right? What’s wrong? What the hell do you think?”

  Seth almost took a physical step back at the barrage of words. Why the smartass attitude all of a sudden? Then he realized. She wasn’t afraid of him anymore, if she had been at all. What the fuck had Callie told her? Nikki was wrong. She had every reason to be afraid. Her smartass comment was her first mistake.

  He straightened and stared at her until she shifted uncomfortably in her metal chair, her gaze flicking away from his. She surreptitiously bit her bottom lip and stared pointedly down at the saturated cotton ball, her fingernail making small dents in the cover of the card table. He leaned over her, hands resting on his knees until his eyes were on a level with hers, silently insisting that she look at him. She did. Her pupils dilated, her cheeks flushed, and the pulse in her throat throbbed. She looked wary. But not afraid.

  “Are you trying to intimidate me, Seth?” She offered a small shake of her head. “Because I’m telling you, I don’t think I have any fear in me left. I used it all up already.” A short pause. “I want to go home.”

  “Not until you tell me what I want to know.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Why do you think the Jokers kidnapped you?”

  “How should I know? They’re all crazy.”

  Now that was odd. She’s been kidnapped by that “crazy” motorcycle club, one that had the reputation of having fingers in a number of seriously illegal, dangerous, and often deadly enterprises, and yet she now acted like it was nothing. Why? She had to be afraid. She had to be, so why . . . maybe she figured if she put on a brave front, he’d think twice about hurting her. Not that he’d planned to, but she didn’t know that. Maybe it was time for him to kick things up a bit.

  Without warning, he stepped forward and grabbed her upper arm, forcing her to turn to face him, then grabbed her chin, bringing her gaze up to meet his, their faces close. He screwed his face into the most threatening glower he could manage with his lips inches from hers. The color drained from her face. She swallowed and opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Surprised by his action. “I’m not fucking around, Nikki. You need to tell me.”

  “And why should I?” she snapped, trying to yank herself from his grasp. “You’re asking me to trust you. Why should I?” Despite his grip on her arm, she swung her hand around, gesturing around the inside of the cabin. “You’re keeping me locked up in here. Why the hell should I trust you? Tell me that.”

  Seth took a slow, even breath. How could he convince her that she could trust him, and even more importantly, why was it important for her to believe that? Confusion twisted his thoughts. What the hell did he care what happened to her? He should just take her to Oklahoma City, drop her off at the bus station, give her a few bucks, and send her on her merry way. At the same time, he already didn’t want to. He gazed down at her pretty though pale features. There was something more. That he was sure of. “You shouldn’t trust me, Nikki. You shouldn’t trust anybody. But I’ll tell you one thing: you’re not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re safe. I don’t need your blood on my hands.”

  She didn’t answer but pointedly glanced down at his large, strong hand clutching her upper arms. She looked back up at his face with a raised eyebrow. Sighing, Seth released her, and she sat down on the metal chair. He took the chair that Callie had vacated and waited.

  “I saw a chop shop.”

  He frowned. That was it? She saw a chop shop?

  “You wanted to know. That’s all I know. I saw a chop shop. Now let me go.”

  He shook his head, trying to clear it of cobwebs that suddenly seemed to have gathered there. “What do you mean, you saw a chop shop? Explain.”

  She glanced around the cabin, anywhere but at him, licking her lips. He had trouble pulling his gaze away from that tongue, her soft and now glistening lips, the flush of color returning to her cheeks.

  “My old clunker of a car had broken down. I took it to an auto shop of a guy I knew. When I went to pick it up, it wasn’t quite ready.”

  “The mechanic told you that?”

  She shook her head. “The owner told me that. But when I looked into the bay or whatever they call it, my car wasn’t up on the lift. It was sitting out back. But inside the bay . . . I saw three or four cars. They were missing parts that weren’t typical.”

  “Explain,” he said again.

  “Fenders stacked up in front of one wall, door panels missing from another couple, tires gone, but again, nothing up on racks like they were fixing anything from the undercarriage.”

  Seth couldn’t figure it out. Chop shops were all over the place. Why would her seeing one put her in any kind of serious risk? “You think you were kidnapped because you saw a chop shop, and whoever ran it was afraid that you would go to the cops?” He shook his head. “There are easier ways to deal with that. They could simply move. Places like that are a dime a dozen in the So
uthwest.”

  She stared at him. “What the hell do you expect me to say that that kind of statement? All I know is that’s the only thing that I saw that I can think of that might be in any way dangerous.”

  “What do you do for a living? Work at a bank? Callie told me you’re from Albuquerque. What brings you to Oklahoma?”

  She made a small fist and pounded on the card table, causing the bottle of hydrogen peroxide to tip. He calmly reached for it, replaced the pop-up cap, and moved it farther away. “How the hell am I supposed to know?” she replied, her tone laced with protest. “I don’t have any dealings or experience with . . . with bad people. I don’t know what exactly I saw that I shouldn’t have, what could have prompted anyone to kidnap me.” She choked back a tear. “All I know is that I want this to be over. I want to go home.” She looked at him, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Please. I just want to go back home.”

  Fuck. He wasn’t sure what to think. Why kidnap her over witnessing activity in a chop shop? She hadn’t said anything about the owner of the auto shop threatening her to keep her mouth shut or else. No, if the Jokers were behind it, they’d gone right from reacting to a potential witness to kidnapping. Why? There had to be something more to her story. There had to be. This just didn’t make sense. Did the Jokers run the chop shop? Did they manufacture drugs there? Hide weapons? Other women?

  “Not until you tell me the truth,” he said. “Then, if I’m satisfied, you can take a shower. You stink of gas, sweat, and pot.”

  “Screw you,” she snapped.

  “Look, I didn’t . . . that came out wrong. I just meant you could take a shower and clean up. I can borrow some clothes from . . . well, I can ask Callie. She’s about your size.”