by Katie Ashley
When Deacon’s hand swept around Alexandra’s waist to tenderly rest on her abdomen, I had to turn away. It hurt too much to see such happiness. Although he or she was very much unexpected by their parents, I had no doubt how much Deacon and Alex would love their future child. Willow was already beside herself with excitement about being a big sister.
I swallowed the rest of my champagne and went in search of more. After I grabbed another flute from a snooty waiter with a tray, I went back to my spot beside the tree. I was surprised when Bishop walked up to me, a serious expression on his face. I’d expected him to already be banging one of the wedding guests.
“Need to talk to you,” he said in a low voice.
“Can’t it wait?”
He shook his head. “No, brother. It’s bad.”
“Not here, then.”
We started away from the tent and the happy-go-lucky wedding guests. When we got to the parked cars, I leaned against one and nodded.
“Breakneck just called.”
“Why the hell isn’t he here?”
“He needs a favor.”
“Shit,” I muttered as I dug in my pocket for my cigarettes. “He knows we’re going straight, doesn’t he?”
Bishop nodded. “I made that very clear to him.”
One of the stipulations of Alexandra marrying Deacon had been that the direction of the Raiders needed turning around. With Case’s death fresh in our minds, it hadn’t been too hard for Deacon to convince us that things needed to change. Every one of us officers at the table had lost more people than he cared to count due to club violence. If things kept on like they had been, we would have been extinct in a few years.
“Then what’s the deal?”
“His daughter has been kidnapped by the Highway Henchmen.”
I exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Jesus, how the hell did they find her here?”
“They didn’t. She was at Texas A&M. Once they found out who she was, they started making demands to Breakneck.”
I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Breakneck was going through. “He wants us to put out the word or what?”
“This is where shit gets kinda weird.”
My brows shot up in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“He said to tell you specifically that he knew she was being … raped. That you would understand that.”
I turned away from Bishop’s questioning gaze. With bile rising in my throat, I fought hard to keep my dinner down. Fucking Breakneck! I wanted nothing more in that moment than to beat his ass for dredging up the long-buried shit of my past. I also knew he was desperate for help, and in his desperation, he thought the best way to reach me was to appeal to that broken eleven-year-old boy he had treated.
Bishop cleared his throat. “Look, man. It’s not fair he’s playing on your tender heart. We can put out some feelers, do the best we can to find her.”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll handle this myself.”
“Excuse me?”
Flicking the cigarette onto the grass, I stomped out the glowing embers and met Bishop’s wide eyes. “You heard me.”
“How in the hell are you supposed to lead the club straight when you’re about to go death wish on the Henchmen?”
Grabbing him by the collar, I stared him down. “Don’t question me on this, Bishop. You keep what was said between us. Don’t go flapping your jaws to the other brothers. This stays contained—you got me?”
“Wait a minute. Does this have anything to do with what happened the night Pop killed that guy and left his church?”
I had to fight the urge not to close my hand tighter around Bishop’s throat. “Once again, don’t question me.”
Releasing him, I stalked off into the night. I had some calls to make, favors to call in, and packing to do. I’d be leaving before dawn. The unlikely hero had some avenging to do.
As I escaped my tormented unconsciousness, I came awake to find someone shaking the hell out of me. Flipping open my eyelids, I stared up into the concerned blue eyes of my brother Bishop. His hands gripped my shoulders so tight, I figured there would be marks left. “What the fuck, man?” I questioned, flinging him away.
He tumbled back on the mattress. “You were having one hell of a nightmare.”
I sighed as I rubbed my shoulders where his hands had been. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean I want to wake up to your ugly mug with morning breath in my face,” I replied, trying to ease the palpable tension in the air.
Bishop didn’t laugh. He didn’t make a move to get off the bed either. He continued staring at me like he hoped he could somehow work his will into making me talk. He’d been giving me the same stare for the past few days we’d been on the road. Whenever we’d stop for food or to gas up our bikes, I would find him staring at me, chewing his bottom lip like he wanted to say something. He had been desperate since three nights ago when Breakneck’s personal tragedy allowed Bishop a tiny glimpse at my long-buried secret.
Breaking the silence between us, I asked, “What time is our meeting with the El Paso Raiders?”
“Seven.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the glowing digital clock on the nightstand. “That doesn’t give us much time to make it across the state. Better get crackin’ and hit the road. You want the shower first?”
“Nah, you can have it.” As I rose off the mattress, Bishop said, “I’ll go grab us a quick breakfast.”
“Thanks, brother.”
When I started across the threadbare carpet to the bathroom, Bishop’s words froze me. “Rev … you know it doesn’t matter to me what the fuck happened to you—it ain’t gonna change a damn thing about the way I feel about you. No matter what, you’re my big brother and my prez.”
Since I was both too emotionally conflicted and too stubborn to respond, I ignored him and pushed on into the bathroom. After locking the door behind me, I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. Two days of driving across Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana with minimal sleep had taken its physical toll. That, coupled with emotional stress, had left dark circles under my eyes. After packing up to leave so abruptly, I hadn’t bothered with a razor, so my beard was growing in. I looked like the hell that raged inside me.
Turning on the water full blast, I then stepped inside the shower. I placed my palms flat on the tiles and stood with my head under the stream. Rolling my shoulders, I tried to ease my tense muscles.
Two days ago felt like two years and another world ago. It was hard to imagine just forty-eight hours ago I’d been dancing and drinking at Deacon and Alexandra’s wedding. Then one phone call from the Raiders’ unofficial doctor, Bob “Breakneck” Edgeway, had changed everything.
Whenever I closed my eyes, I had my pick of which face would haunt me. It was either the sinister evil of my rapist or the fresh-faced innocence of Breakneck’s daughter. It had been five years since I had seen Sarah at any of the Raiders’ events. She’d been an awkward thirteen-year-old girl in braces who had spent most of the BBQ fawning over Eric, our then-president, Case’s, teenage son. Now she was a college freshman at Texas A&M. From the picture Breakneck had texted me, she’d grown into an auburn-haired beauty with an innocent smile—the kind of girl low-life traffickers always had a jonesing for.
The criminal profiling of the scum who bought these women indicated that they didn’t want fake-breasted, slutty types. They could pay for those any day on the streets or at the strip club. No, they seemed to want the unattainable female—the one who would never give them the time of day unless they were forced. And sadly, Sarah fit that bill.
We didn’t have much to go on other than it was the Highway Henchmen who had taken her and were making financial demands on Breakneck to get her back. Apparently, she had spilled the beans that her old man was a biker. Usually, girls kidnapped for trafficking never got a chance of being ransomed back to their families. Instead, they were sold to the highest bidder into a life of sexual slavery. The thought that Sarah now faced that future both tu
rned my stomach and enraged me.
After scrubbing off yesterday’s grit and grime with the hotel’s cheap brand of soap, I made fast work of rinsing. The moment I turned the water off, I heard my phone ringing in the bedroom. Throwing a towel around my waist, I hurried out of the bathroom to grab it. When I saw who was calling, I grimaced. “Yeah?”
“Where the hell are you?” Deacon demanded without even a hello.
“I’m touched that you thought to call me while you’re on your honeymoon.”
Deacon’s low growl came in my ear. “Don’t fucking change the subject, asshole.”
“I was just trying to be nice.”
“Yeah, you’re just being a prick is what you’re doing. Now, I want a fucking straight answer.”
“Last time I checked, big brother, I wore the president’s patch.” I knew my words were the equivalent of poking a rattlesnake ready to strike. Regardless of whether I was the president of the Hells Raiders, I still owed Deacon an explanation.
“Fine, motherfucker, then answer me as your newly patched vice president, why my two brothers bailed on my reception to hit the road and are now in Texas?”
Defeated, I leaned back against the counter. I knew I couldn’t evade his questions anymore. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m listening.”
Slowly, I began unraveling the story of Sarah’s abduction, and how we were going to get her back from the Henchmen.
When I finished, Deacon merely muttered, “Fucking hell.”
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”
Deacon exhaled a long sigh into the phone. “Man, I can’t believe you just left here without taking it to the table. You’re the president, for fuck’s sake. While it’s admirable of you to do this for Breakneck, this situation isn’t just about you. It involves the entire club.”
“You can tell the guys I’ll deal with any repercussions when I get back.”
“I just hope it doesn’t get any worse.”
Pushing off the counter, I demanded, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Look, I know you and your code of honor. You’ll do whatever you have to do to get Sarah back.”
“You say that like it’s the wrong thing to do.”
“It is when the Raiders are trying to go legit.”
Even though he couldn’t see me, I shook my head in disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you? We’re talking about an innocent girl’s life here—one of our brothers’ kids. Have you forgotten that Raiders protect their own, regardless of the cost? You would do anything if someone had Willow or Alexandra. Hell, you have before.”
“Do not bring my wife and kid into this,” Deacon hissed.
“Sarah is Breakneck’s kid, so for his sake, I’m willing to do anything to get her back. If that means some blowback on the club, then I’ll fucking deal with it.”
“No, we’ll all end up fucking dealing with it.”
I exhaled a frustrated breath. “I know you have a lot of pressure from Alexandra for the club to go legit. But I guarantee if you told her what was happening, she would be behind me all the way, regardless of what the repercussions might be to the club.”
When Deacon cursed under his breath, I knew I had finally gotten through to him. “You’re a stubborn motherfucker,” he grumbled.
With a laugh, I replied, “I learned from the best, brother.”
Deacon snorted. “Yeah, well, just be careful.”
Since I knew Deacon wasn’t an overly emotional guy, I couldn’t help feeling a little touched by his concern. “I will. But at the end of the day, this is something I have to do.”
“Trust me, I get it. I don’t have to like it, but I sure as hell get it.”
“We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
“Call me the minute you have her.”
“I will.”
After Deacon hung up without a good-bye, which was so often his style, I went to get dressed. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of dread crisscrossing its way over my skin. Although I would never have admitted my fears to him, I knew Deacon was right. Getting Sarah back was going to have serious blowback on the club.
At the time, I just couldn’t imagine how severe.
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