“I’m twenty-six, a mechanic. I don’t wear nice clothes or makeup. I don’t understand how I can be your type.” I’ve no real hope I can dissuade him, but I have to try.
He gives a hearty laugh. “Don’t worry about nice clothes, darling, or clothes at all. You won’t need them. And your tears will be makeup enough for me.” He gives me a considered look. “And your age? Well, I expect you to be made of stronger stuff than my younger pets. You’ll be more fun and last longer.”
I latch onto something he’s said. “You have other women?”
Another guffaw. “No, I much prefer just the one at a time. I’m monogamous you see. Aren’t you lucky?”
I go cold and get chills. Reading between the lines, it’s not hard to guess what happened to his previous women, and I very much doubt they are enjoying any kind of retirement package.
“Step on it, Bradley. I’m getting impatient to be home.”
As the car picks up speed, I continue to hope the rain will slow us down, being in no hurry at all to reach my destination. But it’s easing off now, little more than a drizzle, and when the sun comes back out, it does nothing to brighten my mood. They could be taking me anywhere. Looking at the clock on the dash, and doing a quick calculation in my head, I’m conscious that six hours have already gone by, leaving only twenty-four more of battery life of my earpiece. Much good that piece of spyware is going to do me. Drummer will need to be within half-a-mile range to get back in contact, and there’s a slim chance of him locating me within the next day. Slim? There’s no freaking possibility at all.
The only plus point is that Kurt seems content to wait and doesn’t make good on his threats to force me to give him head in the car. Instead, he satisfies himself with cruelly fondling my breasts and tweaking my nipples, causing such pain until I protest and wriggle, trying to get away. Then he grips me harder with one hand, and his other wanders lower and starts to explore my panty-less nether regions. Divorcing myself from his molestation of my body, I blink back tears and look out the window, watching the road signs go past.
We’re heading toward Phoenix, but just on the outskirts of the city turn off the freeway, and soon we’re heading into a sparsely populated area with huge houses in large grounds set back from the road. I want this journey to end so he removes his filthy hands from me. I never want to arrive so he can carry out his threats.
Conflicting thoughts are still going through my mind as Bradley pulls the car up in front of a set of sturdy security gates and waits for them to slide open before driving inside. There’s a guard waiting by a control panel and another I can see patrolling the grounds. This just keeps getting better. Taking in as much as I can, I note all the obstacles to any escape.
The car continues up a short driveway and stops in front of the main entry door to a huge freaking mansion. Before getting out, Bradley reaches again to the glove compartment and extracts something. He unplugs the jammer from the 12volt socket, and quickly plugs it into what I now recognise is a portable battery unit and hands the whole package to Kurt. Great. I’d had the slim hope the GPS signal would be able to be picked up once we’d left the car, but my captors seem to have thought of everything.
If I’m going to get out of this, it’s down to me. I can no longer bank on help from anyone else.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Drummer…
At the threat of disabling the SUV, Devil pulls immediately onto the hard shoulder. We’ve come back just about level with the turnoff again, and as a late model Jaguar pulls out, I realise Sam must be inside. Devil might have confiscated the mic, but I’ve heard everything that bastard said to her, and know how fucking scared she must be. Remembering the half-mile range of her earpiece, I know we’ve got to stay close if we’ve any chance of continuing to hear what’s going on and being able to reassure her.
Having told Wraith to hold off firing, for now, I turn to the man beside me. For a second time in one day, I’m in a situation that reduces me to begging. “Devil, please!” I turn in my seat, frantically trying to keep my eyes on the car as it disappears into the distance.
Suddenly Devil thumps the steering wheel and makes a decision. “Get out, Drummer. I’ll go on alone. You go after your woman. You won’t be able to speak to her. The radio equipment’s a fixture, and if you’re not quick, you’ll lose her. But I’ll keep tracking her on the GPS. If she gets out of sight, give me a call.”
I can’t open the door fast enough. But even though rescuing Sam is foremost in my mind, it’s not that I don’t give a fuck about the other women. I do. “Devil, I’ll take some of the boys with me, the rest can go with you.”
His face brightens as he throws me a quick nod. “Cheers, mate. Appreciate that.” I get out of the car, running over to the waiting bikers. “Wraith, Blade, Viper, Beef, Bullet, and Mouse. You’re with me. Peg, take the rest and follow Devil. We’re splitting up.” I point to the car disappearing in the distance. “Sam’s in the Jag. Devil’s going on with the tracking equipment. We won’t be able to talk to her but—”
“Fuck it!” Viper’s face has gone white. “That’s my daughter. What the fuck have you done? She’ll be lost, a-fuckin-lone, if you can’t talk to her. Get Devil to give us the radio. What if we lose her?” He gets off his bike and comes toward me. “I knew this was a bad fuckin’ idea!”
“Viper! Pipe the fuck down and get back on your ride. We can’t take the equipment, it’s built into the SUV. Dart, lend me your bike? Go with Devil?” Dart wastes no time dismounting his Harley, and I’m astride it as soon as he’s running off and taking my place in the passenger seat next to Devil. Tyres spin, gravel flies, and the SUV disappears in a cloud of dust. The brothers not coming with me right behind it.
“Right, Brothers, we’re doing this fast and quick. We surround the Jag—Wraith, you’re with me up front, Bullet and Blade to the sides, Viper, you, Beef, and Mouse stay behind. We’ll block him in and force him to stop.” Then I remember. “Wraith, chuck me some extra ammo, will you?” He does so; I load my gun.
Viper’s still glaring at me, but he’s back on his bike at least. I start my engine, then throw my arm forward.
It’s been barely a minute since I jumped out of the van, but that means the Jag has now got a good start and is way ahead. With no time to lose, I twist my throttle, kick up through the gears, getting up speed on the main highway. Soon the car’s in sight. Just a little more throttle and we start drawing closer. I’m in charge, in control, and I have a plan. Soon Sam will be riding bitch behind me, and I’ll be taking her home. And the man who tried to take her from me? Well, he’ll be dead.
I’m close enough to see the model now. Fuck, he’s got a 3 litre V6 engine under his hood, and right now he’s increasing the power. The distance opens between us again. But we’ve got modified Harleys and know how to ride them. I allow myself a small smile knowing we’ve got this in the bag, until I see the dust storm approaching.
Shit. Everything’s against us, even the weather. The monsoon will most likely force us to stop. But all’s not lost, the car won’t be able to go through the washouts either. With my left hand I try to adjust my bandana, having dust flying at your face at one hundred miles an hour is not my idea of fun. Lightning flashes above, a crack of thunder so loud I can hear it over the sound of the road rushing beneath me. Now comes the rain, forcing me to slow, knowing it would be suicidal to continue at this speed.
But the car’s slowing too, and I’m still keeping him in sight. I see a shower of water cascading over the car as he goes through one of the floods. Christ, the driver must have a death wish. I see the back swing out, but he gets it under control, and he’s through and safely out the other side. The torrents of water build up so fast, and in the few seconds it takes me to get there, it’s now deep and all over the road. Breaking gently at what now looks like a raging river, I come to a halt, my brothers pulling up alongside me. The Jag is already disappearing into the distance.
“Fuck!” Wraith comes up alo
ngside. He’s said it all in one word.
A pain so sharp it takes me by surprise slams through my chest. Sam’s gone. He’s got her. Our plan should have, would have worked if it hadn’t been for the summer storm.
Now I have a physical ache in my jaw; Viper’s fucking hit me.
“You bastard!” he shouts. “You fuckin’ let her get into this.” Covering his face with his hands he rakes his fingers down his cheeks. “I might never see her a-fuckin’-gain, and that’s on you, Drummer.”
“Calm the fuck down, Viper. She’s got the GPS. I’ll call Devil and he can track where they’re heading to.” Rubbing my bruised chin, I glare at him. We haven’t lost her, just simply no longer have eyes on her. Forcing my rage back down, I take out my phone and place the call. “Devil, we lost her. Got caught in a flood. The car crossed over, but we had to stop.”
“That’s fucking bad news, Drummer.” There’s a brief pause before he continues, “They must suspect she’s wearing a tracker and have a jammer in the car. I’m sorry, Drummer, but the tracker isn’t giving me anything. Without it working, I have no bloody idea where they’re taking her.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. She’s gone. Unable to accept it, I raise my head, ignoring the droplets of water falling, stinging my skin like pellets of ice. Opening my mouth, I roar in frustration.
“What the fuck, Prez?” Viper grabs my cut and screams at me.
Lowering my head, I rub away tears disguised as drops of rain, bringing myself under control and forcing my emotion away. “They’ve jammed the GPS signal.” My eyes meet his. For a second, I think he’s going to kill me, but instead, he falls to his knees, his head in his hands. He’s wailing.
The others group around me, but there’s nothing to be said. Nothing to do. We’ve lost her.
“I got the license plate,” Mouse says, noting something on his phone. “Need to get back to the clubhouse so I can trace it.”
At least that’s something positive, and if anyone can find her using technology, it will be our computer guy. I’m not going to give up. I will never give up. Rubbing my jaw, still stinging from Viper’s blow, I speak the words to reassure her father while feeling utter dread settle in my heart, recognising all I’m giving him could be false platitudes. “We’ll find her, Viper. We’ll fuckin’ find her.” We have to. The alternative is just too horrific to think of.
The storm has caused the temperature to drop nearly forty degrees. Dressed for the heat of the day, we’re wet and cold. But in the middle of nowhere, there’s nothing to do but wait it out. While it’s not going to do much good, I reach into the pannier and get out Dart’s waterproof poncho that I’d expected to find there, my t-shirt and cut are already drenched and heavy, but we won’t be moving for a while. Around me, my brothers are doing the same, while up above us the heavens provide a spectacular show of the fireworks of the gods. Then we’ve nothing to do but twiddle our thumbs, impatiently waiting for the deluge to cease, and the floods to dissipate.
Wraith points to the water roaring across the road in front of us. “Want to backtrack and see if there’s a way around it?”
I consider his suggestion but quickly reject it. Most of the routes we could use would be blocked to some extent, and riding in this weather is just too fucking dangerous. As much as it pains me, I shake my head. “We’ll wait it out.”
“Sam’s gone, Drum. What are you going to do about that?”
Whatever I fucking can! Viper, back on his feet and lurching forward, looks like he’s coming for me again, pinpointing me as the target for his frustration and fear. But he’s already got one good lick in, and whatever the situation, I’m his fucking president, and he’s not going to get another chance. “Be fuckin’ careful what you do next, Viper,” I growl, my teeth showing. It’s enough to remind him just who I am, but the look of desolation on his face, probably mirroring the one on mine, undoes me.
The rain continues to pour down; half an hour passes. The feeling of hopelessness makes time tick by slowly. A car passes us, ignoring the ‘do not cross the road when flooded’ signs, and, we watch on, finding a moment of light relief as predictably it gets caught in the current and ends up with a thud against a telephone pole. The driver gets out, loses his footing, and is almost washed away by the power of the water. Arizona doesn’t have a stupid driver’s law for nothing. While our mood isn’t conducive to outright laughing at his plight, Wraith manages a half grin, and Dollar raises his eyebrows in amusement. We don’t go to help. He got into it; he can get himself out.
The rain begins to ease. Once it stops completely, the flood waters soon start to ebb. Waiting for it to fall to a passable level is exasperating, and I’m bouncing with impatience to get moving again. We pack away our soaking ponchos, our wet leather cuts quickly starting to steam in the renewed heat of the sun. Then, as soon as the torrent has sufficiently eased, we get back on our bikes, carefully cross the part of the road that’s still submerged and, at last, are on our way.
We alternate exceeding the speed limit when we can and needing to pick our way through other diminishing washouts, and it seems an awfully long ride to the compound. When we arrive, Joker’s there to open the gates, his mouth falling open in amazement as we tear through, spitting up gravel as we speed up to the clubhouse, backing our bikes into a straight line. Mouse is gone before I need to tell him.
The women are waiting inside. Knowing none of us are in the mood for their services, I tell the sweet butts to get lost. Although their faces show a mixture of relief and incredulity, I offer them no explanation. The old ladies get afforded deeper respect.
Sophie runs up and jumps at her man, her hands clinging to his cut. “Wraith, what’s happened? Why, how are you back? I thought you’d be in prison?” I watch her fingers tighten on his leather. She had no reason to think she’d see her man for a very long time unless he was across a table dressed in orange. Wraith’s arms go around her, holding her tight, causing a sudden rush of jealousy. Wishing I had my woman here to hold, impatient to initiate any action to find her again, I suppress my immediate impulse simply to tell them to hurry it up, allowing them their special moment.
Sophie’s brief moment of pleasure fades as she pulls away from her man, telling us, “Sam’s missing. She’s been abducted! And Roadrunner’s been shot! We didn’t know what to do!” Her eyes are reddened, showing she’s been crying.
Wraith encircles her in his arms again, resting his chin on her head. To incredulous stares, and with my unspoken thanks that he’s stepped in and is doing what I should have done, he explains to her, and everyone else left behind about the fake ATF raid, and how we were supposed to have been following Sam.
“We fuckin’ lost ‘er.” Trust Viper to blurt it out.
Sandy’s hand goes to her mouth to cover a gasp. “No!” she cries out in protest. “Viper, no.” Then she’s in his arms, giving him comfort.
“Where’s Heart? And the others? Why haven’t they come back too? Where are they?” Crystal walks over to me, a desperate urgency in her eyes. “Are they in prison? Why weren’t they released?”
I rest my hand on her arm. “They’re fine.” Or rather I hope that they are. With disbelief, I realise I haven’t given a thought to the rest of my brothers, so caught up in my concern about Sam. “They’re on club business.” She’s been an old lady for a long time; she’ll understand, even though she won’t like it. Squeezing my fingers, I put a brief pressure on her arm while wondering what I sent my men into. Should I have left more with Devil? Or should I have brought everyone back with me, now that it’s no longer our fight? Fuck. Have I made all the wrong decisions today? I turn away from Crystal. The rush to find Sam has me twisted in knots. It’s the first time I’ve ever let a bitch steer me by the dick. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’m acting as her concerned lover, not as a president of an outlaw MC.
I’ve got to start thinking of the club and those who depend on me. “What’s the news on Roadrunner?”
&nb
sp; Joker’s still staring at me as though I’m an apparition.
“Well, man?”
With a shake, he comes back to himself. “Doc’s with him. Bullet was a through and through, but he lost a lot of blood.”
“He going to be okay?”
“Yeah, Doc thinks he’ll pull through.” Well, at least that’s something off my mind.
“Anyone want a cuppa?” The dulcet tones and very English offer come from Sophie. But I need something a damn sight stronger. Going to the bar, I nab myself a beer and take off for Mouse’s office. Inside, the half-Navajo nerd is tapping away on his laptop, ash from his joint overflowing onto his desk.
“Got anything?” I approach and put my hands flat on the desk, looming over him.
“Yeah, of sorts. The Jag belongs to a Kurt Regus. A businessman based out of Phoenix.”
Rolling my head back on my shoulders I let out a sigh of relief, that’s the right man. We’d heard the other man call him Kurt. It seems this is going to be easier than I feared. “We got an address?”
Mouse partially closes the lid of his laptop, his dark eyes staring up at me. From the worried expression on his face, what he’s going to tell me isn’t going to be fucking good news.
“Spit it out, Brother.” I lean back, realising my posture must be threatening.
“Fucker’s got a shell company. Owns a shitload of businesses and residences. Nothing registered under his name. Of the residences, there’re a couple in Phoenix, one up in Flagstaff, two more in California, and one in Vegas.”
I smooth my hand over my hair. “Never was going to be that simple, was it?” I swallow down the whisper of hope I’d fleetingly felt. “Anything stand out?” Those places are scattered all over, and we need to head for the right one. I can get Red to check out the Vegas one, and, depending on location maybe Snake can check in California. Otherwise, he’ll have Sam in his hands for far too long. Long enough to… No, I can’t think about that.
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