Beecher: Wicked Throttle MC #4

by Esther E. Schmidt

  “I’m going to make sure she’s okay first. Then I’ll join you guys.”

  Corban grabs my shoulder. “Doc’s at the clubhouse. Get in the SUV and have the old ladies stay with her once the doc’s checked her. Then take a prospect along with you and meet us here so you can get on your bike and have the prospect follow us in the SUV in case we need it.”

  “Don’t say anything about Morgan,” Zerox orders me. “I don’t need my old lady to rush over here and panic. I need her at the clubhouse to keep a handle on shit there. And I want you to have two prospects stay with them, none of those should be Maci’s brothers. I need them with us, understood?”

  I give him a tight nod and jump into the SUV to rush back to the clubhouse. As soon as I hit the brakes and jump out to get Val, Maci is in my face.

  “What happened? Is she okay? The doc is inside, come on.” She closes the door and rushes out in front of me as we enter the clubhouse.

  The doctor ushers me toward the couch and starts to examine Val while Maci assaults me with questions. Questions I can’t deal with right now since the both of us need to keep it together.

  “Just fucking stop,” I snap. “You and I need to buckle up, okay? You take care of Val for me and I’ll head out to make sure Morgan is okay. Can we do this?”

  Her face hardens under my gaze and she says with determination, “You got it. Anything I need to know?”

  “Stay here, stay alert, and take care of my woman. Make sure she knows I didn’t fucking abandon her when she wakes up.”

  Maci punches my shoulder and dammit, that woman knows how to punch. “You asshole. She knows you wouldn’t abandon her. Now get your ass out of here and take care of my brother!”

  Michael strolls into the main room with Maci’s daughter in his arms.

  “Michael, get Maximus and Marcus and meet me out front,” I order and without another word he jumps into action, putting his niece down in the playpen and heading out back to find his brothers.

  I rush through the clubhouse to gather all my brothers who are still here and update the three prospects who are staying behind. I grab my gun and strap another knife to my leg, just in case.

  Within a few minutes the SUV is filled with Morgan’s brothers and the brothers who were at the clubhouse are following me on their bikes. We’re meeting up with Broken Deeds MC and my other brothers. To my surprise there are over forty guys leaning on their bikes, ready for action.

  How alone we felt the last time Val and I were taken; Morgan has a whole brotherhood at his back. And it doesn’t matter it’s a combined force of two MCs, what matters is the outcome. And we’re going to do everything possible to bring him back safe and unharmed.

  I jump out of the SUV and Zerox heads straight for me and Morgan’s brothers. “The dot hasn’t moved within the last few minutes.”

  “I’ll be fucking damned. Our sis was right to demand we get a tracker,” Michael says and rubs his left forearm, the place he has one too.

  “Lifesaver,” Deeds quips. “Even if it’s never needed, this one time shows that being prepared reaps benefits.” Deeds raises his voice and throws his hand up in the air and twirls it around. “Now, let’s get going and get him back. We have the all clear to take anyone out who interferes. Shoot first, ask questions later.”

  Grunts of approval fill the air and right after the roaring of bikes. All of us ride for over thirty minutes before Zerox and Deeds both head for a small parking space and park their bike. We follow and huddle together.

  Deeds takes out his phone. “Any of you have a pen and a piece of paper?”

  “Hang on,” I tell him and jog to the SUV.

  We not only had this SUV altered with a safe room—the tiny space Val crawled in—but also loaded it with different kinds of equipment. So, I’m pretty sure there’s some paper and a pen in the dashboard. And I’m right. Grabbing the stuff I need, I head back and hand it over.

  He places it on the hood of the car and his phone is right next to it, showing a picture. He starts to sketch and I know he’s making a layout of the house where the dot on Zerox’s app pinpointed Morgan.

  He starts to explain the layout and discuss how they’re going to approach and storm the house but they are forgetting one major fucking detail.

  “They’re not in the house,” I grunt, making all eyes land on me.

  Deeds’ head tilts to the side and he waits for me to explain.

  “When we managed to escape there was a whirl of stairs. It was hell for Val to get us out since I was passing out at every turn due to the loss of blood. But I remember very vividly crawling out of the ground when I came to. Val also burned the house along with it but I swear we didn’t come out of it. And if they are still sticking with the same routine—”

  “Then they have a place underground near the house,” Deeds finishes for me, nodding his head in understanding. “Archer, go with Beecher and scout the place out. We will stay here until you guys either call or text if something’s up, or come back to discuss so we can end this shit. Ten minutes, tops, understood? I want this to end yesterday.”

  Archer heads for the trees separating the parking space with the property up ahead. It’s all knit close together and it takes effort to make our way through to get close to the house.

  “If I find any bugs in my underwear tonight, I’m going to be really pissed,” Archer grumbles and it makes me snicker. He shoots me a glare. “I’m serious. I didn’t say it to lighten the mood. I really fucking hate bugs, they creep me out.”

  “Noted,” I snicker.

  But we crouch down simultaneously when a car leaves the property. We share a glance and Archer takes out his phone to shoot a message.

  A few breaths later he receives a reply. “Pres says the dot is still in place.”

  I give him a tight nod and we both move forward. The house is completely dark, and when we observe and move around, we’re sure it’s abandoned.

  Knowing I was where Morgan is right now sparks a drive. A need. A fucking obligation to get in there and haul him out as soon as I can. It’s for this reason I rush forward and glance around to search for some kind of hatch. I don’t have to pay attention to my surroundings because I hear Archer curse behind me and when I glance over my shoulder to check I see he’s palming his gun.

  With him having my back I can fully focus on finding the entrance to an underground hiding space. And it’s here, I know it. I feel it in my gut. These guys didn’t change the crucial tactics, it has to be here.

  “There,” I whisper hiss and point at a square in the grass.

  Archer goes left, pointing the gun at it with one hand as he grabs his phone and waits a moment before he rattles, “House clean and abandoned. Found a hatch in the backyard, going in now.”

  He tucks his phone away in the back pocket of his jeans and is now aiming the gun with both hands as he gives me a nod.

  I point my gun in the same direction and grab hold of the latch, swinging it open in one fluid move.

  There’s a stairway leading down and as I follow it I feel Archer right behind me.

  Muted voices flow through the air, though one voice is harsh and clear. “It’s okay to scream. I would prefer it.”

  “And I would prefer my fist up your ass to reach for your tongue to prevent you from voicing another fucking word,” Morgan grunts.

  My foot connects with something on the floor, making a slight noise.

  “Back so soon? I was just playing around.” The voice sounds as if it’s coming closer.

  Archer goes left while I go right. There’s not much light in this tiny space until a door up ahead—that’s slightly ajar—fully opens. It’s Donald, and he’s holding a knife. The light coming from the room behind him highlights the blood dripping from the blade and I don’t think twice but shoot the fucker right between the eyes.

  Archer rushes forward and jumps over Donald’s body and into the room.

  “All clear,” he bellows and I step over Donald to follow Ar
cher into the room.

  Archer isn’t holding a gun but is trying to cut away the duct tape that’s holding Morgan in place on a metal chair. His shirt is ripped away and he’s only wearing his jeans and sneakers. I quickly put my gun down, take off my cut and grab the hem of my shirt to pull it off. Putting my cut back on, I wrap my T-shirt around the gaping wound on his forearm and palm my gun while keeping pressure.

  I lower my gun once I see Deeds followed closely by Zerox enter the room.

  “Donald was talking to someone and before we went in here there was a car driving away from the property. We need—”

  “Already put a brother on it to follow the car,” Deeds says. “Do we need an ambulance? How are you doing, buddy?”

  “I’d like to get back to the clubhouse and have the doc stitch me up,” Morgan grunts at the same time I apply more pressure.

  Deeds dismisses Morgan and asks me, “How deep is the wound? Do we need to get him to the hospital?”

  “Knife wound, it was a gaping one. He needs a truckload of stitches, that’s for sure. But I’m guessing the doc can handle it. And if he thinks he needs to head to the hospital we can get him there. For now, I’d like to have him safe and out of here.”

  Zerox glances him over with hawk eyes. “You sure you’re okay to walk?”

  “Just a scratch, Pres.” Morgan grins. “A scratch that’s gonna heal and then my sister can’t deny me from getting my arm inked. I’ve been harassing her for months and she wouldn’t let me. Can’t deny me now with the shit that happened. You can ink over a scar, right?”

  “Fucking prospects,” Deeds snickers. “Babies bouncing back and all over the place. But, fuck, some are tough.”

  Chapter Eight

  Valentina

  I take the glass of water from Maci with shaky hands.

  “How are you feeling?” the doctor asks for a third time.

  “The same as a few minutes ago,” I groggily reply.

  My head is killing me, nausea hits me in waves that come and go, but overall, I’m relieved to be sitting here in the clubhouse surrounded by friendly faces.

  “Good, good.” The doctor closes his bag. “Like I mentioned, you were lucky the dart with tranquilizer didn’t fully enter.”

  The sound of roaring bikes is coming from outside.

  Maci rushes to the window and glances back at me over her shoulder. “They’re back.”

  She holds the door open and the first one walking into the clubhouse is Zerox.

  “He’s injured, large laceration on his forearm. Otherwise he’s in perfect health, okay?” Zerox says and steps aside to allow Morgan to enter.

  I know what Zerox just said, but I can’t help the words falling over my lips. “Are you okay?”

  “Totally fine, don’t worry about it.” Morgan shrugs and shoves a chair back at the nearby table so he can sit while the doctor rushes over to check out his injury.

  Shaw stalks into the clubhouse and even if his gaze is fixed on me—assessing every inch as if he’s double checking to see if I’m okay—he doesn’t so much as take a step in my direction. Dread flares up inside me. I know what he’s doing. He’s withdrawing and I recognize it since I’ve done it myself in the past.

  “Don’t do this.” I hate the sound of vulnerability lacing my words.

  The clubhouse goes silent and everyone’s attention bounces between Shaw and I.

  The wince is all telling. I’ve been there. I know his train of thought. He’s stuck in the whole guilt part where he basically vowed nothing would happen to me and here we are. Add the fact Morgan was hurt in the process it’s a straight kick in the balls, ego, salt in wounds, and the load of crap is weighing down on him.

  “I have to go,” he croaks and spins on his heels.

  I’m about to curse so loud it will pierce his eardrums, but Zerox beats me to it when he snaps, “Go to your old lady or I will beat your ass across the room until you’re kneeling in front of her. You don’t get to retreat again. We were all in it this time and you took action. Neither of them would be here if it wasn’t for you. Hell, we wouldn’t even know where Morgan was being held if—”

  “Enough,” Shaw growls, cutting Zerox off and I’m wondering why.

  Until it hits me. The whole situation with open wounds from the past ripping open, and the words Zerox said how they wouldn’t have known where Morgan was.

  Oh, shit. “You were underground, weren’t you?”

  Morgan nods and when I look at Shaw again, I can clearly see the pain and raw emotion swirling in his eyes. I take a step forward but the pain written on his face intensifies. He softly shakes his face, pleading me to keep distance. I know all of it. I know the war raging inside him because I lived through it.

  The last time I was the one who pushed him away because I couldn’t deal with any of it and felt the pain, the filth, the emotional wreckage that seems unrepairable. There’s guilt laced with failure, broken pieces without a thought of how to start pulling yourself back together. Let alone dealing with the one you love, who you have seen take the same level of torture with your own eyes. It’s what ripped us apart.

  And now? It’s happening all over again.

  I take another step forward and at the same time he backs up. I know he’s going to run, and I’m not talking about escaping the room. I could throw in the towel now too, and lick my already scarred wounds, but like I said; this was me all those years back.

  And what I learned is that the time that passed left me with nothing but emptiness. I build a wall around me to keep emotions in and all others out. I haven’t been living, I’ve been functioning on minimal necessities to pull myself through. Turning to BDSM for a way to let go and channel something…yet it didn’t fill the void inside me.

  And let me tell you something, when Shaw came back into my life there’s one thing I realized. Everything is better when you have your one and only in your heart and life. It’s the whole “the sun shines brighter, the air tastes cleaner, food melting on your tongue while birds sing and your heart beats to the right tune.” Life. Living. You along with the people you surround yourself with create the best things life offers.

  “You can’t outrun me even if you tried,” I tell him with fierce determination. “I won’t let you. We promised. You and I, me and you, remember?”

  His eyes close and his head tips back as if my words hit him right in the chest. When they flash open and connect with mine the pain fades to gratification and love as he lifts his arms as he silently invites me back in.

  I close the distance between us, connecting our bodies as well as confirming our now unbreakable bond. No matter how badly life lashes out in an effort to break us apart again. It makes you remember how fragile everything really is; always ready to shatter since everything has a breaking point beyond repair.

  The slightest misstep or a trigger reminding you of the past and how it’s better to deny or block things to save you from the hurt. From the failure. From the vicious circle you allow yourself to fall back on because it’s safer to build walls and lock everything and everyone out.

  “Fucking hugs,” he grumbles but his arms tighten around me to pull me flush against him.

  He buries his head into the crook of my neck, brushing his nose against my skin to breathe me in as if he needs it to recharge himself. He might be grumpy about me being a hugger, but at the same time he craves it.

  I tighten my fists into his leather cut, inhaling his spicy scent along with the leather. The reminder of almost losing him again makes me whisper hiss, “Don’t ever pull away from me again. We both have done more than enough of that. It’s time we buckle up and fight. Together. No matter how hard it gets.”

  “I let you pull away from me. I didn’t fight hard enough then. I don’t fucking deserve you,” he croaks.

  “You always come to my rescue without thinking twice. Even when I pushed you away, you still came and it almost cost you your life.” My voice cracks and he leans in to brush his lips again
st mine.

  “I love you,” he murmurs against my mouth.

  “I love you more,” I reply within our shared breath.

  “Fuck,” Deeds snaps, making all our attention land on him.

  “Sorry,” he grumbles and holds his phone up. “Can we all head into church to discuss something?”

  Shaw’s arm tightens around me. He leans down so his lips are close to my ear. “I wanted to keep you out of all the details. You don’t need the reminder ripping open the shit of the past, but maybe the two of us need to go through this to put it behind us. My question is, are you able to handle it? Because I know for a fact, you’re not going to like most of the stuff you’re about to hear. It’s going to feel like betrayal, the whole ‘too close and personal’ aspect I wanted to save you from as well.”

  “Maybe you can’t save me from all of it, or shield me from the hurtful things. Only the crucial parts matter. The whole ‘ripping open, raw feelings’ and all? Like you said, maybe it’s exactly what we need to put it behind us.”

  He nods at my words and glances over my head. “Pres, I’d like for my old lady to be included.”

  “Are you sure?” Zerox questions.

  I turn to face them to show the determination on my face.

  “Some details aren’t going to be easy to hear or process,” Deeds presses.

  “This time I’m staying here in the safety of this clubhouse until everything is handled. Morgan here kept me safe while he was hurt and yet look where we are now.” I hold my hands out to indicate the safety of the clubhouse. “Safe. And don’t worry about my mental state. It’s screwed ever since we were taken the first time around.” My gaze slides to Quill. “But one of you made me promise to fight if the one who loves me lived to allow a second chance. Obviously, the hardheaded man needs to fight too, along with a few kicks in the butt for some extra guidance. What I’m saying is...I’m not alone in all of this. We’re not alone. Hell, you guys aren’t even one MC but another MC has our back too. I’d say there’s no backing out, so let’s do this.”