Loaded

by KB Winters

  Cruz nodded and followed a few feet behind me, giving me the time I needed to focus. “Call out if anyone approaches,” he said to Romeo who nodded silently.

  I stepped inside the shed, but couldn’t see shit. It was pitch black. I groped on the wall until I flipped the switch to the only light inside the structure. A plain white bulb swinging from a chain. It was cliché as fuck, but it worked, startling the two men tied to chairs in the middle of the room, eyes covered with a blindfold.

  The young one, Beto, wore a baseball jersey and the matching bandana tied around his head was stained with blood. The short, chubby dude in the other chair wore black slacks and dress shoes. What. The. Fuck?

  I walked around them both, making sure my boots sounded heavy on the slick floor, stopping behind them. “Which one of you wants to talk first?”

  “Fuck you,” the chubby little one spat out, just like I knew he would.

  “I guess that means you’re the boss, right? The one with all the answers?”

  Because he couldn’t resist, Juno smiled. “Damn right I am, fucker.”

  “Good.” I walked around them and snatched the blindfold off Beto, meeting his gaze with my own. To his credit, the kid barely flinched. “When you get sick and tired of watching me beat the fuck outta your boss, you can tell me what I want to know. All right?”

  He nodded because his boss couldn’t see him.

  “Beto, don’t you say one fucking word.”

  I stood and cracked my neck, then my knuckles, because sometimes it was fun to terrorize an asshole. “Want to tell me why the fuck you shot up my club?”

  Juno laughed and said, “Eat shit and die, motherfucker.” Then my fist landed in the middle of his gut. “That’s all you got?” he said, sputtering through blood coming out of his mouth.

  I smiled, appreciating the ego of the classic tough guy even if it flew in the face of common sense, which he learned when I punched him twice, an uppercut and then a jab.

  “Shit!” he finally whined.

  “Is that jogging your memory at all?” I knew he wouldn’t answer, would rather die than survive and have his men see him as weak. But I went through the motions because like my CO used to love saying, I had a hopeful heart. Always giving the subject too many chances to make a better decision. I didn’t see it quite so charitably, but I couldn’t deny that I got some pleasure from the violence of the process.

  For thirty long, exhausting minutes, Juno refused to answer one fucking question, Worse than that, he was like a child, tossing out ridiculous insults. “Why don’t you untie me, fucker? Or are all you white boys into this kinky shit?”

  Another jab to the nose sent his head flying back as blood rushed down his face and throat, soaking his white shirt. A straight punch to his right jaw. His left. Another hit in the liver. “Why the fuck did you come back?”

  The pain was getting to him because he was used to the way shit was done on the streets, a pure ass whooping until you either passed out or died. But this way, hitting multiple body parts over time, exhausted the subject everywhere, fatiguing the muscles and organs all at once. “Fuck. You.”

  I looked to Beto who seemed to be in shock, which meant he was new to the game. “No answer? Too bad.” I unleashed another combination of punches and kicks until Juno could barely breathe.

  “Maybe,” he wheezed and then laughed, spitting out blood and taking a few deep breaths before trying to speak again. “Maybe we just wanted some kinky white boy sex. Since you sick fucks like to watch other dudes fuck your women, we figured we’d come get a taste of that willing pussy.”

  A punch to his side shut him up, and he passed out, not for long, but just enough to scare the fuck out of the kid. Juno’s blindfold had come off and the kid couldn’t miss the eye swollen shut or the giant split in his lip. He snapped his eyes shut and turned his head away.

  “That crazy fucker who Ken was working for, Farnsworth is his name. But I don’t know if it’s his first or last name.”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Juno was back with us.

  “Cruz, hand me that cattle prod, would ya?”

  Juno froze, but Beto’s eyes were still closed.

  “He took Juno’s kid sister, and he’s holding her until this job is done.”

  There we go. Progress. “What job?”

  “This shit, tonight. He said meet him in the parking lot of The Barn Door and gave us directions. Said to go inside and shoot the place up. Since he wasn’t paying us and didn’t give us a target, we just shot the place up.”

  Cruz slapped the ridged handle of the prod into my hand, and I took it instinctively, still processing what Beto had just said. “You weren’t ordered to kill or capture anyone?”

  “Nope.”

  I thought about everything Peaches had said about Farnsworth. These guys were the best of the best, probably had no official identity and had been operating in the dark so long, they didn’t know how to act any other way. Everything was an op and everyone a chess piece. And that’s how it all came together. My feet were moving toward the door.

  “Motherfucker!”

  “Wait, where you going?” Juno’s voice sounded behind me, and I stopped just outside the door, turning to the man with the eerie gray eyes and the neck tattoo.

  “Romeo, right?”

  “Unofficially, yeah. Just helpin’ out.”

  “Bags on their heads and lights out. Keep an eye on them and someone will come check on you soon.”

  “Got it,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning to do what I asked. He might make a decent prospect after all.

  When Cruz caught up with me, I was already in the driver’s seat on my phone.

  “Gunnar, Farnsworth didn’t just send them. He met them in the parking lot.”

  “It was just two gunmen, Wheeler.” His voice was angry and annoyed.

  “Wrong. Ford said three gunmen, and Beto said Farnsworth instructed them to meet him in the parking lot of the club. He was here on the property and they, fuck they were a distraction. Get to the house, Gunnar. Now!”

  We were already on the move, heading towards the main house with our guns ready.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Annabelle

  “Dr. Annabelle, wake up please.” The soft distress in Maisie’s voice pulled me abruptly from sleep, which I didn’t mind because for some reason my mind was full of a certain blue-eyed vet and the wicked ways he lit up my body. “Please, Dr. Annabelle.”

  Maisie? Right. I opened my eyes; grateful the little girl hadn’t flipped on the light because her sweet face in the moonlight was far more soothing.

  “What’s up, Maisie?” I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, taking in her little body in her princess nightgown and cowboy boot slippers.

  “I’m thirsty, and I can’t find Peaches.” Her words were more whiny than worried, but I heard the worry and it instantly transferred to me. “Can you help me?”

  “Of course, I can,” I told her and scooped her up, enjoying the brief moment of having a kid in my arms before I set her on the bed. “Stay here.” I grabbed a cup from the bathroom sink and filled it with the bottle of water on the nightstand, which was my attempt to keep out of everyone’s way during my stay here. “Drink up.”

  “Thanks.” She drank the water quickly and held it up for more. “Where is Peaches?”

  I shrugged. “Probably somewhere kissing Gunnar.” It was the safest answer and the most likely to be true, though the unease that settled in my gut wouldn’t let me believe it. But it had the desired effect.

  “Gross. They’re always kissing.”

  “It’s what grownups do when they love each other.” I hoped I wasn’t overstepping by saying that, but I knew Peaches would tell me if she had a problem with it.

  “I know, but it’s still gross.”

  “You won’t always think so, kiddo.” I ran a hand down her soft dark hair, for once missing her trademark pigtails. “Ready to get back to bed?”


  She looked up at me and nodded. “Tell Peaches I couldn’t find her, and I was afraid.”

  “I will,” I promised and hugged her close for just a second, ignoring the unease that grew in my gut. After all the information that had been dumped on me in the past few days, it was hard not to think about the bad stuff, but Maisie didn’t need to hear any of it. She didn’t need to feel it coming from me or pick up any worry. “And I won’t tell her about this late night party if you get to bed right now.”

  She smiled and scrambled off my lap and the bed, turning to give me her trusting little hand. “I’m ready now.”

  We walked hand in hand to the other side of the house where Maisie’s bedroom sat just fifteen feet from the master suite. I tucked her in along with her favorite stuffed animal. “Anything else?”

  “Just a hug and a kiss goodnight.” She held her arms wide and expectant, so trusting it squeezed at my heart. I sent a wish up to the Gods or the universe or whoever was listening, that this feeling in my stomach was nothing more than my city nerves and neuroses.

  “I can do that,” I told her and dove in for a big hug and a smacking kiss on both of her cheeks. “How’d I do?”

  “Perfect, Dr. Annabelle. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, sweetheart. Save me some coffee in the morning.” She giggled and settled in, closing her eyes just as I pulled the door closed behind me, pressing my back against the door to settle my nerves.

  The hall light flipped on and startled a gasp out of me. It was Gunnar, not the mysterious Farnsworth, but my heart still tried to beat its way out of my chest.

  “Where’s Peaches?” His frown was intimidating, but not more so than the way his wide shoulders seemed to expand with his anger.

  “Good question,” I said. I told him about Maisie’s visit to my room. “I figured Peaches was downstairs working or worrying. I was headed down once I got Maisie back to bed.” I stepped aside just in case he wanted to check on his baby sister. “I told Maisie you two were probably somewhere kissing.”

  A small grin twitched the corners of his mouth. “No. She’s not downstairs either,” he growled, and I could feel the worry emanating from his big body.

  The door downstairs opened and closed loudly, a second before heavy, booted footsteps sounded on the wood entry, on a mission.

  “Peaches?” Wheeler’s voice was firm and strong and worried. “Fuck. All clear!”

  It took my mind a few minutes to catch up since it was the middle of the night, but it was all starting to come together. Peaches wasn’t home. No one knew where she was, and a crazy spy was after her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this Farnsworth person had gotten to her.

  “I didn’t hear anything.” It was a stupid thing to say, asinine really, but it was all I could manage as a sense of guilt overcame me. “I didn’t hear a damn thing.”

  “My guess is that was his goal,” Gunnar barked just as Wheeler stopped at the top of the landing. “Anything?”

  “Her phone is on the counter.” Their gazes connected, an unspoken communication that spoke of their bond, which I now understood, thanks to Peaches. These guys had gone through war together, and now they were living the after effects together. Rebuilding together. They were brothers in every way, and it was a bond I envied.

  “Fucking Farnsworth. Has to be,” Gunnar growled, practically pulling out his hair as he thought of the woman he loved in the hands of someone who meant to do her harm.

  I didn’t know much about any of this, but now that I knew more about Peaches, I understood better. Or at least I thought I did. “Check her phone.”

  Gunnar sighed and pushed off the wall. “Can’t. She’s got the fingerprint scan to get inside.”

  I laughed. “She made me do that for my phone, too. But I think Peaches was expecting something like this.” I couldn’t say why I thought it, just that I did.

  “Are you saying she knew this was coming?”

  “Of course not,” I rushed to answer, ignoring the feel of Wheeler’s glare on my back as we made our way downstairs to the kitchen. “But she got me to stay here by asking to help look after Maisie. She said having two sets of eyes at all times would be best. How could I say no to that?”

  “What’s that got to do with her phone?” Wheeler again, clearly that peaceful sleep hadn’t done anything to cool his asshole tendencies, a fact I tucked away to examine later. Along with my disappointment at that fact.

  “If she anticipated that Farnsworth would find a way to get to her, she would make it easy to get any helpful information we need.” At their confused looks, I asked, “Haven’t you ever played chess with Peaches? She’s scary good.” I’d love to watch her take down my father in a game, that’s how good she was.

  “No,” Gunnar said angrily.

  “Nope.” Wheeler was unapologetic.

  “Well fuck you both!” I didn’t need them to validate my theory. I had working hands and legs, and I used them to get her phone and swipe my index finger across the lock screen. “It opened.”

  Gunnar grinned and took the phone offered. “Thanks, Doc.”

  “Annabelle,” I said quietly, grateful I could offer anything that might help save my friend. “I’ll keep an eye on Maisie. You guys find Peaches.” My words were for both of them, but I refused to look at Wheeler even if my body leaned towards him, like a moth to a flame.

  It was an unwanted attraction, and I was thankful there was something else to focus on right now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wheeler

  Goddamn Farnsworth. Fuckin’ MC. I swear there hadn’t been one fucking moment of peace since either of those things entered my life. I wouldn’t give up the MC for shit, the guys were my guys. My family, with the added bonus that my actual family was around, too, not that I ever paid attention to all the help my brother tried to give me. But this shit, the kidnapping of the Prez’s girl, that shit was too fucking far.

  And that’s exactly why I’d dipped off into the kitchen inside the big house and grabbed a bottle of water to help me swallow down two of those Oxy’s. It pissed me off, the way Annabelle had tossed them on the seat, so smug and sure that I wanted them. So confident that’s why I’d come to her. But right now, even still pissed off at the presumption, I was grateful as fuck to her because I needed them. My leg was already throbbing like a motherfucker, probably because I slept in it after fucking Annabelle which I shouldn’t have, and it would probably be another ten hours before I was in a position to remove it. So the pills would fill the gap, that was all.

  Then I’d go back to being in pain and unable to sleep. But right now I needed to dull the pain so I could focus on what we needed to do to find Peaches and get her back.

  “Toss me one too.” Gunnar’s deep voice pulled me from my thoughts and I grabbed another water bottle, tossing it to him.

  “You should stay here.” I knew saying that was asking for a fight, and I was grateful the rest of the MC was finishing up at The Barn Door and hadn’t made it here yet.

  “Fuck that. I’ll be right by your side, leading these men when we go get my woman.” He was anxious and angry and that’s exactly what we didn’t need going into a hot situation with a killer trained better than any of us. Probably even me.

  I sighed. It was exactly the answer I expected him to give, hell it was the answer I would’ve given if I gave a fuck about a woman enough to want to rescue her.

  “Listen, Gunnar, we don’t know shit about where he lives or where he would have taken her. To find those answers, we need you. Here.”

  He wasn’t trying to hear me, but I needed him to, dammit. “You know Peaches in a way none of us do, which means you’re the best person to go through that phone and surveillance equipment and tell us what will help.”

  “I don’t know shit about how to do what she does, Wheeler. What the fuck good is that gonna do?”

  “You know how to pull the surveillance footage up on her phone, and you probably know any passwords or codes to bypa
ss any of her little boobytraps.”

  With reluctant agreement, he reached for Peaches’ gold and pink sparkly phone case, which hid a high tech phone that was unlike any I ever saw at the mall cell phone store. He pulled up the surveillance footage, and I watched, over his shoulder, as a dark figure crept up to the side of the big house.

  “That’s about fifteen minutes into the shit show at The Barn Door.”

  “He planned well,” I said, keeping my eyes on the intruder’s movements. He favored his right side and couldn’t be taller than six-foot-two, wearing all black. “He’s coming from the west side of the property. Has to be Farnsworth.” Even though his head was covered by a hoodie and all we could see were hands that belonged to a white male, I knew it was him.

  “It could be any fuckin’ body,” Gunnar grumbled, too emotional to be useful right now.

  “That’s exactly how we know it’s him, the fact that he could be anyone.” I watched the video closely, clicking through each angle and playing the beginning again. The figure slipped around to the side of the house and, we assume, shimmied up to the side somehow.

  “That’s where Maisie’s room is!” Gunnar was on his feet right away, sending the bench flying backwards before it tipped over with a loud clatter. I stood and picked it up when his feet hit the stairs. He stomped to Maisie’s room and then to the other end of the house to the guest suite where Annabelle was staying. Didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. Still Gunnar came down, breathing a little easier. “She’s cuddled up in Annabelle’s room.” He dropped back down with a sigh.

  “Look at this. The light goes on in your room for a few seconds and then it goes out right away. About twenty seconds later the kitchen light comes on, you can see it from this angle,” I switched to the back camera. “There!”

  Another minute passed and then the door opened and Peaches emerged first, wearing an off-the-shoulder t-shirt and ratty old sweatpants, proof that asshole didn’t even let her get dressed. Farnsworth is less than a foot behind her, the gun aimed at her back clearly visible on camera, as was the way Peaches kept a protective hand to her belly.