Steel: A Great Wolves M.C. Romance

by Jayne Blue

  It was as Ryder warned. Sawyer was dealing with the whole club, the business, the cops, his old lady. I did not envy the shit on his plate. And I didn’t want to be the cause of more.

  “I’m not going to argue it. I should have seen those scumbags faster. But as far as the police sting, that couldn’t be avoided. They’d never move fast enough. That girl wasn’t like the rest of them.”

  “Meaning?”

  “She was high class, not a drug addict, and not in some bad situation. We did the cops a favor. She comes from money. I’m sure that uncle was up their asses the minute she went missing.”

  “Shit Steel, you stepped in it with the cops, and now Bess is catching heat for that,” Sawyer said. I felt bad, truly, but looking at what happened, I wouldn’t have done a damn thing differently. I had to get Darby out of there.

  “We blew up their operation, that’s got to count for something,” Ridge added his perspective. He’d followed my lead and was trying to back me up. I appreciated it.

  “And what about the assholes we caught at the house?”

  “Sorry, there were so many, they gave me the slip.”

  Bucky was supposed to at least get a better lead on that. On who they all were and now that lead was gone too. Things were going from bad to shitty.

  Sawyer put up a finger to pause our discussion as his phone buzzed.

  “Hey babe, yeah, they’re here now. Yeah, let me check.”

  “When did you leave the Bishop household?” Sawyer asked me. I didn’t know where the question was going, but I felt something off, in a major way, the minute he asked it.

  “Over an hour ago. It’s way out of town, in The Gates section.” The Gates was about as pricy as Grand City got and about as far away as you could get from The Great Wolves M.C. and still be in the same city.

  “Over an hour,” Sawyer told Bess on the other end of the phone. I strained to hear.

  “Yep, keep me posted,” Sawyer said, and then he ended the call.

  “What?”

  “No one has reported Darby Bishop’s abduction,” Sawyer told us. That information was wrong as hell, and if I had Spidey Senses, they would be going off at top decibels at that news. A kidnapped girl, from a rich family? The whole city should have been looking out for her if history was any indication. I struggled for an explanation for that and tried to piece one together.

  “Well, it looked like it was just her and her uncle, and he was out of town when they grabbed her at the mall,” I said, combing through what I knew about her, which wasn’t much.

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t he call immediately, as soon as she told him what happened?” Ridge said, and Sawyer agreed.

  “Bess just got an earful from the cops about the sting. The players have all scattered from the motel and the house they were holding Darby in. Plus, what’s weirder is there’s no call out to The Gates section about Darby or from what’s his name, Reid Bishop.”

  We all let that sink in a bit. While GWMC had our way of handling shit, most people would want the police there, immediately, if they heard something like this had gone down.

  I couldn’t for the life of me figure why the entire Grand City Police Department wasn’t in Darby Bishop’s house right now after what she’d been through. It gave me a sick feeling in my stomach.

  “Okay, here’s what we know, from all this,” Sawyer said.

  He outlined what they’d gotten on the street from the identity of the jackholes we’d stopped.

  “They’re out of Chicago. The couple that we’ve identified specialize in grabbing the women. They do it like we saw, two against one. Usually, the sick motherfuckers stalk battered women’s shelters and halfway houses to find victims. And because the women don’t have strong connections or are already in trouble, no one is complaining that they’re missing.”

  “That’s fucking evil,” Ryder piped up.

  “Any connection to The Hawks?” Hammer, a brother who’d had the most recent run-in with our rival club, The Devil’s Hawks, was looking for ways to punish them. They’d put his old lady through hell.

  “None so far that we’ve found. Like I said, just criminals, thugs, no cuts or affiliates on any of them,” Sawyer said to the table.

  “What’s the play?” Ryder asked.

  “Stone called in from Florida. He’s watching down there. Bess thinks maybe that’s where a lot of the girls are headed. They’re setting the women up out of state. Stone’s going to start looking at the local shit bag motels. Maybe we can see a connection from here to there. If we only had a few more names and faces to track.” As soon as Sawyer said it, I knew I was headed back to The Gates. There were more victims than Darby Bishop; maybe she could help us find the others.

  I stood up without saying a word.

  “Do I have to tell you to be careful?” Sawyer asked me and as I headed for the door.

  “She might have names, people we can get Stone to look for, and it’s sitting with me wrong. The no police thing.”

  “Did you ever think she might be traumatized? Talking to the police could add to that for her,” Sawyer pointed out. I hadn’t considered that.

  “I need to be closer, I won’t go guns blazing.”

  “Good.”

  “Unless I have to.” I walked out of the meeting room and heard Sawyer grumble something about me being a hot head.

  I didn’t care. It felt wrong to leave Darby when I did. And I was sure as hell going to be certain that if the cops weren’t there, there had to be a good reason.

  “Hold up.” It was Ridge. He’d seen me lose my shit at the hotel. He knew I was in this, deep, deeper than I’d let on in the meeting.

  “You’re sticking your nose in with that girl in a way that’s not smart,” Ridge said to me as I made my way back to my bike.

  “I won’t do a damn thing if I think everything’s on the up and up.”

  “Right. I’m coming with you.”

  “You’ll see, I’ll be calm as a fucking cucumber,” I said, but even I didn’t believe it. There was something off when it came to Darby Bishop being mixed up in all this.

  And I was going to be sure she didn’t get hurt again. No matter whose way I got in.

  Seven

  Darby

  * * *

  Uncle Reid chastised me.

  “You could have been killed. I just don’t know what I would have done!” He enfolded me in something of a hug; it was more of a pat on both of my shoulders. But Uncle Reid wasn’t a hugger or all that demonstrative, except this was an exception: I had nearly died.

  “What about the police?” I asked him, and he nodded.

  “I’m calling right now. Why don’t you get settled, calm down, whatever you need? I’ll bring in my doctor and call the authorities.”

  “Do we need to drive to the police department?”

  “Heavens no. After what you’ve been through? No. They can come here. And don’t forget your medication.”

  “Okay, good, yes.”

  Uncle Reid always took care of everything. Since the moment I became an orphan at sixteen, he’d done everything for me. I had been drugged by the kidnappers so I probably shouldn’t take my medication until the doctor said so. My medication helped me deal with my anxiety. I never missed a dose. But I best hold off. Uncle Reid hadn’t thought of that, I was sure.

  It was a familiar, and calming, to know that I would soon be in the hands of his doctor and the police. It was also good to be in my own room. My own surroundings. I’d ventured out into the world, and the absolute worst had happened. The fears that I’d tried to tell myself were all in my head were real.

  I felt a deep sadness. I hated being right. This world was too much for me. I couldn’t do anything without fear, and the fear wasn’t fake.

  I showered, changed clothes, and walked through my rooms. Everything seemed familiar but off by a click. Why? What was going on with me? Was this what happened after trauma?

  I pulled on a pair of comfy jeans, a t-shirt, and
then found a long sweater. I was cold. So cold, and lonely. I realized my life was so small. Uncle Reid when he was here, wasn’t enough. He wasn’t a friend. He was barely a parent, when compared to the way my parents were with me: loving, joking, and laughing with me around the table or at the movies. Uncle Reid wasn’t like that. He provided for me, but we weren’t close. I didn’t think he was close to anyone. It wasn’t in his nature to be fun loving or joke.

  Steel popped into my head. He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met, really, anyone I’d ever seen. His strong body sheltered mine from the wind, pulled me out of the pit, where who knows what could have happened. But for all his outwardly scary appearance—the leather, the tats, the muscles—he was gentle with me.

  But of course, I’d never see him again. Heck, I didn’t know if I’d ever leave my house, my room.

  NO! I would. I had to keep trying.

  The worse had happened. And I was alive. That had to be something. That had to mean I was a survivor. Didn’t it?

  I lay on my bed, and I heard the bell ring.

  A few minutes later, Uncle Reid knocked on my door.

  “Come on down, the police are here to take your statement. But only if you’re feeling strong enough.”

  “I am. I am strong enough,” I said, and I tried like heck to believe it.

  I walked the long hallway to the grand staircase. Uncle Reid’s house was spectacular. But it was like me in a way. It was all dressed up and nowhere to go, most of the time.

  Uncle Reid didn’t have visitors or parties or a family of his own. He had the occasional business meeting here, and there were people that came and cleaned, did repairs, manicured the lawn, but no one permanent. There was never a familiar face.

  Two men were waiting in the dining room for me. Uncle Reid was sitting at the head of the table, and they stood on each side of him. He indicated that I should sit at the other end. I pulled out the high-backed dining room chair and sat. I coiled my fingers together in my lap. I was a strange combination of keyed up and exhausted. I had to get through this. I was a victim of a crime, and there were others, and the authorities would help save them. That was giving me the strength I needed.

  “Darby, these two men are detectives who handle abductions. This is Filch, and this guy is Shaw, right? They’ll be asking you a few questions. I’m going to run out on a business call. You’ll be perfectly safe with them. I’m so sorry, it's unavoidable.”

  I didn’t feel perfectly safe, but I wasn’t a baby. I was home, with the police now, I should be able to handle this.

  “Okay.”

  Uncle Reid nodded to the detectives. This was typical Uncle Reid, call in the experts, and let them do their thing. No need for superfluous conversations.

  Filch, the taller of the two, sat down next to me at the dining room table, while the one Uncle Reid had called Shaw stood me. I felt him but didn’t see him. The one sitting in front of me, Filch, asked me the first question. I pushed away from the fatigue and forced myself to remember every second I could of the ordeal I’d gone through.

  “So, you’re, uh, how old?” Detective Filch looked me up and down. I supposed detectives had to observe all things, but it still felt uncomfortable being inspected with his eyes this way.

  “I just turned twenty-two.”

  “Gotcha,” the first detective said, and a little laugh escaped from the corner of his mouth. I wasn’t sure what was funny.

  “And you’re a virgin?” Shaw asked me. He was still behind me. He put a hand on my shoulder. I tried not to jump a foot in the air.

  He rubbed my shoulder, as though he was trying to put me at ease. It had the opposite effect. I was alert, on edge, and wished my uncle could have stayed.

  I heard the door to the garage open and the roar of Uncle Reid’s car as he left. He really had left me alone with these strangers—uh, detectives. They were detectives, I reminded myself. I swallowed hard. This wasn’t going to be easy, telling these strangers about the last day of my insane life.

  “Why do you need to know that?”

  “We need to know everything.” I felt Shaw’s hands behind me slide from my shoulder to my collarbone, and I moved forward, away from him.

  The detective in front of me leaned forward; his face was only a few inches away from mine.

  “It’s what they’re targeting. They get a lot more for virgins, on the market,” the detective explained to me. It was odd, the way he kept snickering. I guess even detectives could be immature when it came to talking about this kind of stuff. But still, I felt like Filch was laughing at me, sneering even. I reasoned that my paranoia was now full-blown. What I’d been through over the last twenty-four hours had obliterated whatever progress I’d made that had allowed me to go to the mall. I felt so desperate. All my work to get better was wasted.

  “So? You’re a virgin?”

  “Uh, yes, that’s true,” I said and hated that I had to share anything with these strangers, even if they were here to help me.

  “You were at the mall? That’s what your Uncle said, can you explain what happened? Step by step?” Detective Filch took my hands in his.

  “Okay, uh fine.” I did all I could to recount the incident by my Jeep, what the car looked like, how they talked. They didn’t interrupt me, but I noticed they weren’t taking any notes. I wondered about that, and wondered where my Jeep was? Maybe it was still in the Mall parking lot. I had to get it. When could I get it? My mind wanted to spiral in that direction, but I retrained it on the detectives.

  “Don’t you want to write any of this down, or record it?” I asked Filch, and he looked up at Shaw.

  “We really do need to get you to the station, that’s where we record things,” Filch said.

  “Yeah, before we get to the good stuff.”

  The good stuff, what the heck were they even talking about? How could any of this be good?

  “I thought my uncle said we could do this here. I don’t want to go anywhere. I have been through a lot.”

  “We can do most of it, but this is a serious case.” Filch stood up and pulled my hands forward, and I pulled them back to my body. It was a strange tug of war.

  “Plus, those three other girls, they need your help. You want to come with us so you can save them too?” Shaw said, and I looked at the two men.

  I knew then, without a doubt that I was in trouble, worse trouble than before.

  “Let me grab my purse, if it’s okay. And will you drive me there?” I was thinking as fast as I could. I needed to be away from these two. If they were detectives, I was the Queen of Fucking England.

  “Sure, sweetheart.”

  The two men stepped back, and I smiled the biggest, fakest smile I could muster.

  I walked towards the kitchen. I didn’t have a clue about where my purse was after getting snatched from the mall. I supposed it was still AT the mall. That was something, I would go there. If I could.

  I did know that there was cash in the kitchen. A long time ago, I’d spied Uncle Reid’s stash in the pantry. I didn’t ask why or even tell him I knew, but there were always wads and wads of cash in a giant canister that looked like it contained white flour. No one in this house cooked, so it sat, undiscovered. I needed it now, I just knew I did.

  I walked into the pantry and went to the canister. Please let there still be cash here. And boom, there it was. I had no idea how much each roll of cash had in it, but I knew now, that I needed it, at least to get to the mall, to get to my Jeep, and maybe for longer. I’d get to my car first and then figure out how to get to Uncle Reid’s help.

  I jammed cash into my pockets and fled to the back door. Woods lined Uncle Reid’s grounds, standing between the house and the street. If I went there first, I could hide in the trees. Then I’d run to the road?

  I didn’t really know. I did know that I had to be fast.

  “Let’s go, Miss Bishop!”

  “Yep!” I yelled back and quietly opened the kitchen door to the garage. I stopped being
quiet at that point. Speed was more important than anything else. I raced through Uncle Reid’s three-car garage and wished for a moment I’d thought to grab a key to one of his vehicles. But I didn’t have time to second-guess myself. I burst out the back door and started running.

  The back of the house faced the river. There was no help there. I had to run from the driveway to the woods. I’d take my chances in the paths that I knew were there and come out on the road, hopefully, confusing the frigging evil detectives that knew stuff they shouldn’t. That was the clue: I was certain I hadn’t told them OR Uncle Reid that three girls were with me in the basement. There was no way to know that, unless…I blocked off the logical end to that thought.

  I pumped my legs fast and heard the front door of the house open.

  “There she is! Stop, or we'll arrest you!” They were yelling in my direction, and it sounded like complete and total bullshit.

  I ran faster knowing I needed to get to the woods before they decided to follow on foot. If they got in their car, they wouldn’t be able to drive it into the trees. Would they? I was improvising, badly, but it was all I had.

  As I ran through the lawn towards the trees, a loud engine noise rose from the end of the long drive. It was coming toward me. Did Filch and Shaw have a backup, more evil fucking detectives to cut me off? Damn it, I was so screwed. The source of the engine appeared, and my eyes tried to process what I was seeing.

  Steel! It was Steel, and he was barreling toward me on his bike. I corrected my course and ran toward him. I ran hard and started hearing popping noises behind me. I turned to look, and Finch and Shaw had drawn their guns. They were running and shooting, and I was the target.

  Holy shit!

  Steel drove toward me and stopped his bike. He put out a hand, and I took it. This time there was no hesitation. His was the only hand that had offered help since this started.

  With all the strength I could muster, I held on, and he pulled me forward and situated me in front of him on the bike. There wasn’t time to get behind him or get comfortable. We had to roll. I hunched down so he could see the road in front of him.