No Man's Land: A Rebel Wayfarers MC & Incoherent MC Crossover Novel

by MariaLisa deMora

  “Oh, ho. Yeah, that’d earn my displeasure, too.” He made a disgusted sound. “Fucking assholes, bringing family into a war.”

  “This is Myron,” a voice interjected, and my insides relaxed just the tiniest amount. If he was already there and ready to go, then we had a chance of getting this underway quickly. “I’ll need someone to send me direct links to the lists, and then links to any member’s social profiles where family has been targeted. The more information you can feed me up front is work I don’t have to do on my own. Saves dozens of steps, and a fuck load of time.”

  “You got it.” Twisted turned to where Ragman was still staring out the window. “Rags, can you have a brother jump on that, man?”

  “Yeah.” Ragman’s response was soft, distracted. “Why haven’t we heard back from Sparks yet? If he already had someone rolling, they’d be reporting in by now, surely.”

  Mason’s tense voice came through the speaker. “What’s Sparks got to do with anything?”

  I remembered too late that the Jailbreakers were an RWMC support club, so by calling Sparks this morning, we’d effectively already involved RWMC in our shit. Deciding direct was the best way to be, I told them the truth. “His sister, Talia, is my old lady. With all this shit goin’ down, she stayed back in Florida and I’ve been calling her regular-like with a burner phone. She missed a check-in with me and now isn’t picking up. I called him earlier to have someone get eyes on her to soothe my mind.”

  “Shit.” It sounded as if Gunny, Hoss, and Slate had all spoken at once, with the same tormented word.

  “Exactly.” My burner picked that moment to ring, and I glanced down to see it was Sparks. “Speak of the devil. Give me a second here.” I picked it up, answering in the same moment. “Sparks, we’re on the horn with Mason, I’m going to put you on speaker.”

  “Wait.” The soft request stayed my movements, and I clutched the phone tightly. “You need to hear this first. She ain’t there, man. She’s not there, but we got a note.”

  I was frozen, unable to respond to him, my mind stunned by his words. Noise rose inside my head. A deafening buzz filled my ears until I couldn’t be certain if he’d continued speaking or was waiting for an answer from me. Fingers peeled the phone from my grip, and I heard Ragman say, “Got you on speaker, Sparks. Mason and his crew can hear you, too. What the fuck’s going on, man?”

  Sparks ripped my heart out with his next words.

  “She’s been taken. There was a note on her kitchen counter saying as much. She’s gone, man. She’s fuckin’ gone.” Sparks’ voice broke then, and that jerked me from the fugue I’d been descending into. She was his little sister, and I knew in my gut he’d be just as motivated to find her.

  Slapping my hands on the tabletop, I barked at the phones, not giving a shit if anyone copped attitude at my tone, “What’d the note say, Sparks? Tell me everything, every-fucking-thing. Take a picture of it and text it to me. Have your man go through her place with a fine-toothed comb, see what’s out of place, see what’s missing if he can. If they were in her house, that visit wasn’t just to leave a note. It was to do something.”

  Myron cut in, his words firm as they dropped into the conversation. “No. Don’t do that. I can have someone there in like twenty minutes. Let my guy go through the house. Have your man step outside. Take the picture of the note but have him put it back where he found it. There’s a calling card, I’m sure of it, just like Hitch is, but my guy knows what we’re looking for.”

  The burner dinged where Ragman had laid it back on the table. I reached out and tapped the notification, the screen filling with an image of handwritten words. I read it twice before I allowed the rage to overwhelm me.

  “Precious things shouldn’t be unattended. Trust me when I say I will give her the attention she deserves. Trust me when I also say she will deeply regret ever knowing you, Hitch.”

  Twisted’s arms wrapped around me from behind, forcing me to drop the chair I’d been battering the walls with. He didn’t let go, steadfastly holding me as I screamed at the rafters overhead. He didn’t offer false words of comfort, didn’t try to tell me that it’d be okay, because like me, he knew that if they had her—and the note was undeniable in its authenticity—if they had her…she was good as dead already.

  “No, man. I can’t just…” Head back, I stared upwards, fighting the burn in my throat, the stinging behind my eyes. “I can’t let her go, brother.”

  “Nobody’s tellin’ you to, Hitch. This is me giving you space to get it out of your system.” I slowly turned my head, meeting his gaze as he finished, “And this is you pullin’ your shit together so we can figure out where we go from here.”

  “I want her back. No matter what.” I couldn’t think about what that meant, because in my head, the picture was just Talia before. If I let myself think about what the cartel typically did to collateral, the things they’d been willing to do to leverage their position in the past, I’d fall off the deep end and never surface. “You tell me how we’re gonna do that, brother.”

  “I’ve got ideas.” The voice on the phone caught my attention, and I stared at the device, willing the person to keep talking. “If we move fast and offer to give them what they really want, which is Hitch, then—”

  I cut him off quickly. “I’ll do it. Whatever’s needed.”

  “Anything to bring her back.” Sparks’ words overlapped mine.

  The man, and I quickly realized it was Myron, started laying out his off-the-cuff plan, and from the brilliance of it, I understood why Mason had kept him close all these years. The man was a genius, straight up.

  He finished, and I looked at Twisted, then Ragman, getting nods from both of them. With their blessing, I spoke the words that would pull the trigger on a war-ending campaign. I prayed to God we’d come out the winners.

  “Do it.”

  I Got You

  Talia

  Shoulders slumped, she feigned unconsciousness, listening closely to her abductors. Their words were in a mix of English and Spanish, with no discernible reason for the flow back and forth between the languages. Her captors had incapacitated her a second time when they first arrived at the current location, and then a third when she’d attempted an ill-conceived escape attempt during a bathroom break. That had led to her current position on the floor, in and out of consciousness, trussed up like a turkey for the oven.

  After hours lying on the concrete floor, Talia’s shoulders were on fire, pain from the way her arms were bound behind her making itself known. Her hips were in a similar situation, with her lower legs secured together at ankles and knees. Surprisingly, there was no blindfold or gag, and she had watched enough criminal shows to understand that if her captors weren’t afraid of her seeing them, it was because they didn’t expect her to live long enough to identify them.

  “Amigo, I’m telling you, this is bad news. Doesn’t matter if she’s just a booty call for that Incoherent officer, she’s a booty call he’s gonna be pissed off about when he misses her.” From the sound, he was a fair distance away and must have been sitting still, because she couldn’t hear him walking.

  The other man in the room with her paced back and forth, feet shuffling loudly at every pivot at either end of his path. His voice was higher, more agitated than the first man’s. “You think I don’t know it’s bad news? Muertos, when he finds us. The man’ll kill us dead. We’re nothing, but he won’t care we’re just soldiers. Man’ll kill us dead.”

  “Why isn’t she waking up? Why’d you have to hit her with it again? I think you killed her.”

  The shuffle sounded sooner than before, and then she heard steps coming her direction. Pins and needles accompanied the nudge against her foot, and she couldn’t hold back a groan at the pain. “She ain’t dead.” Another prodding kick from the man, and she groaned again. “What if she wakes up? We need to know what to do with her. Makes me nervous, man.”

  Talia opened one eye the barest slit and saw those same cheap black
boots topped with threadbare jeans. The man strode away, and she dared a half-lidded glance around the room. Only two men in the large room, but near a large window there were a frightening number of knives and guns on the table where the quiet man sat.

  She stared at the knives. In her mind, the blades were sinking into her skin, dragging lines of agony in their wake. It took her a minute to force those ideas away. Hitch, only Hitch. Memories flooded her in response, and her next thought was about Hitch. She saw him crouching in front of her, hands covering her cheeks as he lifted her lips to his. I gotta hold it together. Hitch will come.

  “She’s awake.”

  She’d been so lost in her thoughts that Talia hadn’t realized the quiet man had moved closer until pain ripped through her scalp as he lifted her lolling head with a cruel yank on her hair. Without speaking, she narrowed her eyes and glared up at him. In his pock-marked face, his brown eyes were cold as he stared at her. Something flickered across his face, a deep-seated fear she didn’t understand.

  “You belong to Hitch.” He didn’t wait for a response, releasing her and standing straight as he turned to his companion. “She gonna get us killed, man. You’re right, amigo. The scant reward promised isn’t worth it.” He walked toward the door and paused there, hand on the knob. “Narco or no, if you value your life, you’ll come with me. You know how this works. We can either go, or we’ll go.”

  “Oh, I know. Hitch kills us if we stay. Sicario comes down from the cerro and does the job if we leave. We are fucked either way, amigo.” The steady strides of the other man brought him to stand at Talia’s feet. “I say we stay the course.”

  Maybe I can nudge them.

  “Cartel will kill you fast.” She pushed her lips up in what she hoped was an aggrieved smile of disinterest. Painfully lifting one shoulder in a shrug, she finished with, “Hitch will take his time. So I guess it’s up to you.”

  Movement in the window made it hard to keep her eyes fixed on the man, but when she realized it was a hovering drone, excitement made her heart race, the accelerating thud in her ears nearly drowning out the man’s response. The memory of the screens they’d watched as the club took down the people who had killed Hitch’s friends gave her hope.

  “You claim Hitch?”

  Lifting her chin, Talia told the man directly, “Oh, yeah. He’s mine.” The presence of the drone seemed like proof positive that she’d been found. Please, God. Angling her body forwards, she could have cried from the torment of her shoulders and arms at the new position. Ignoring that as best she could, she threw the rest of her words at the men, praying it would be enough to do whatever distracting her rescuers needed. “If you think to harm him, you’ll have to go through his brothers—and mine.”

  “Who is your brother, senorita?” She’d gotten the quiet man’s attention.

  “Sparks. Jailbreakers MC.” Both men flinched and turned to look at each other.

  “Did you know?” Quiet man shook his head back and forth. The other one spewed a torrent of Spanish at him, eliciting another headshake.

  Hand tightening on the doorknob, the quiet man asked, “How could we not know? They’re a Rebel Wayfarers support club, and Rebels are the capos in El Norte. Now, you and me? We’ve bought their attention with this. I tell you again, we go, or we’ll go. Walking or in a bag.”

  He took a step back as he opened the door, and that turned into a jarring stumble when the surface rushed in much faster than he’d expected. The doorway filled with men in black leather as the two captors scrambled towards the table where their weapons lay. The large window smashed in an instant later, more bikers entering via that opening. Talia made herself as small as she could, legs drawn up tight to her body. She pressed her head to her knees, hiding her face as a battle raged around her.

  A hand lifted her head for the second time in minutes, but this one was infinitely careful. Cradling her chin in his palm, Hitch was crouched in front of her, in almost exactly the position she’d imagined him.

  “Tee?” Hitch’s voice cracked as he said her name, and Talia let her lids sink closed. “Baby? Look at me.” His thumb stroked across her lips. “Beautiful? Hey, beautiful. Are you okay?”

  “Hitch?” She finally found her voice and heard his breath catch when she spoke his name. The idea she had that much hold on this man, this beautiful, gorgeous, strong man, humbled her. “I’m okay.”

  “Look at me, baby.” She blinked the wet from her eyes as she opened them, staring at him. Eyes wide, he didn’t take his gaze off her, brows drawn together in a deep frown that gave lie to the small smile he tried to keep in place. “There you are. I’m going to get this tape off you.” He paused. “You’re okay?”

  “I’m okay. I’m okay, I promise.”

  Movement to the side made her glance in that direction, and she found Ewell standing like a statue, gaze fixed on the two of them, a stricken expression on his face. A man she didn’t know, one who had a distinctive tattoo on his left arm, stepped up beside Ewell, along with Twisted. They spoke to him, but before he turned to talk to the man with the phoenix tattoo, Ewell mouthed the words, “I love you,” to her. Hitch shifted and cut off her view for a few moments, and when he moved out of the way, she could see Ewell had been engulfed within a knot of men, shaking hands with each in what seemed a ritual ended with a back-pounding hug.

  It took a couple of minutes, but Hitch released her in fits and starts, seeming unwilling to take his hands off her long enough to cut her free. She watched as he sliced through the tape binding her legs together, peeling it away. Sitting in front of her on the cold floor, he smoothed up and down her legs, thumbs digging into the muscles as she winced and bit her bottom lip. He moved beside her and wrapped his arms around her, easing her to a reclining position the floor. Talia stretched out on her stomach with his assistance, one of his hands holding her head off the grimy floor as he dealt with the bindings on her arms. An instant after he’d freed her, he was ass to the floor and hauling her into his lap as she cried against his shoulder. Hitch stroked her skin everywhere he could reach as he reassured her over and over. “You’re okay. I’m here. I got you.”

  Ch-ch-ch-Changes

  Hitch

  She cried in my arms, the pain of blood and feeling returning to her limbs washing over her in waves, and I held her through it all. Sparks came over at one point and took a knee next to us, one trembling hand lifted to smooth down Talia’s hair. I met his eyes over her head and accepted every ounce of recrimination I saw there.

  Thirty-six hours.

  She’d been in hell for a day and a half because of her association with me.

  That knowledge hurt like hell, but even as I silently acknowledged it to him, I knew it didn’t matter one whit. She was mine, and I was keeping her.

  I’d already told Twisted my plans for after we recovered her. There’d been no doubt in my mind that we would be successful, and I’d refused to allow myself to consider her being in anything other than whole and healthy form when we did.

  Even as we were busting through the door, I’d been drawn to where she’d been huddled against the wall like she was my true north.

  I hadn’t paid a lick of attention to the fight surging quick and deadly around me. Screams and gurgles, the sound of fists against faces, or the finality of a knife to a throat—nothing mattered except Talia. I’d bulled through arrow-straight to her side, and it had been the work of moments to free her. Now it was two hours later and I was still on my ass with Talia in my lap. There’d been a full dozen of Sparks’ men come to pay respects, and I knew why.

  They expected to lose her to me.

  Little did the fuckers know they’d be gaining one large pain in their collective asses.

  “Baby?” I gave it a minute, but when she didn’t respond, I jostled her gently and tried again. “Baby doll, wake up, honey. You with me, Tee?”

  “Mmhmm?” My woman sounded about half asleep, and I empathized, but we needed to vacate the premises fairly soon,
so I couldn’t indulge myself beyond what I’d already done.

  “We gotta get in the wind, baby.” I shoved an arm under her legs and levered myself against the wall to stand, carefully holding her against my chest. “You’re gonna ride with me.”

  “On the bike?” She stirred in my arms, head lifting so I could see her face. The bruising would fade within days, as would the burns from the Taser they’d used to incapacitate her. I’d expected to see fear or at least a hesitancy in her eyes, waiting long moments until I could believe maybe they wouldn’t appear. “We never got to do that before.”

  “Yeah, baby. On the bike. You and me are gonna head to your place.” She gave me a surprised frown, and that made me grin. “I wanna see your crib, baby. Wanna pick apart your decorating style, make a place for me there.”

  “My place?” She twisted slightly and I released her legs, letting her slide slowly down with our fronts pressed together. The softly giving flesh traveling down my length had my cock waking up and taking notice. Down boy, I told myself. Not until we’re alone.

  “Yeah, darlin’. Now, can you ride, or you need another minute to wake up?”

  “I can ride.” Her chin lifted, and I swooped down to take her mouth in response to her clear demand. The gentle caresses of my lips on hers weren’t enough, but I forced myself to pull back.

  “Let’s roll.”

  Twisted stalked across the room before Talia and I could walk outside, an expression on his face I didn’t understand until I saw what was in his hands: a curve of a top rocker and bulky fabric of a brand-new center patch. Instead of the expected nameless face behind bars the Jailbreakers sported, it was a skull holding a key tight in its mouth.

  Seemed I wouldn’t be joining the Jailbreakers MC after all.