by KB Winters
“Fine,” she shrugged and hoisted the trash bag over her shoulder. “I’ll figure it out on my own. Thanks for…just, thanks.”
Thanks for nothing. The words hung in the air, unspoken, but I heard them anyway. “What do you mean if I knew you weren’t welcome here? Everyone was at the wedding.”
She barked out a laugh but kept walking toward the freeway on the other side of the parking lot. “Everyone but your Bitches, you mean. Doesn’t matter, Charlie. I’m no longer your problem. Or your hostage.”
“A hostage?” I put my hand up. “You got me all wrong, Savannah.”
She laughed again and shook her head. “No, I got you just right, Charlie. Thanks for a place to get me through the worst of these fucking withdrawals. I do appreciate that. Good luck and all that.”
Yeah, I wasn’t letting her get away that easily. “You think you can make it out there with all the Black Jacks looking for you now? They pick up girls at the train station all the time. Didn’t know that did you?”
I didn’t wait for her to answer because shock was written all over her face. “Didn’t think so. Come with me.” I lifted her trash bag from her hand to my shoulder.
“No, thanks. I don’t need another run-in with your fuck toy bitches.”
I didn’t know what happened between her and the Reckless Bitches, but I could figure it out pretty easily. “What did they do?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just give me back my shit, and I’m gone.”
“No.”
“Whatever. Keep it, then.” She spat the words at me and kept walking. She was only about twenty feet from the road now. Despite her weakened condition, her anger and motivation to move was driving her forward. I knew if I let her, she’d keep on walking until she was in real danger. Again.
“Fuck! You’re a stubborn woman,” I growled and scooped her small frame up, tossing it over my shoulder. “Just remember that I tried to do this the easy way.”
Savannah kicked and hit at me as I strode across the parking lot toward my bike. “Get your filthy fucking paws off me!” She punched me in the back and bit my shoulder, but all she got was a mouthful of leather.
“Put me down!”
“When you stop acting like you’re batshit crazy, I will.”
“Motherfucker,” she snarled, but calmed down. A little. “Just let me go.”
“I can’t do that, Savannah. You’re not safe out here, not yet.”
“And I’m safe with you? Between you forgetting about me and getting ganged up on by your women, I’d rather risk it.”
“Too fucking bad.” I couldn’t trust her on the back of my bike, so I walked over to one of the club’s trucks. As president, I had a key to everything. I unlocked the passenger door, a neat trick to dig into my jeans pocket with Savannah kicking like she’d sat on a hornet’s nest. Finally, I maneuvered the door open and tossed her in the passenger seat.
“If you try to escape, I’ll just chase you down. Got it?”
She clutched her side and bit back tears as she nodded. “Whatever.”
“Shit, I’m sorry, Savannah.”
She sat up slowly, gingerly holding in her pain until she was upright, releasing it in a slow exhale. “Whatever.”
I wanted to apologize again, but she wasn’t receptive, just holding her spine erect as she looked straight ahead, breathing slowly so I couldn’t see her pain.
“Stay here.” She said nothing, and this time, I didn’t expect her to. I stayed next to the truck. I knew Savannah needed help and there was only one person for me to call. I pulled out my phone and stared at her through the closed truck window.
“Ma, I need your help.”
“What do you need, son?” My ma was the best. She listened to everything I said and didn’t ask too many questions, mostly because she would wait until we were face-to-face. It was always impossible for me to lie to her or deflect. “I’ll meet you at your place,” she said. That was Ma, ready to drop everything on a moment’s notice for me.
“Thanks, Ma. Love you.”
“Love you too, Charlie.”
Back inside the truck, Savannah was as quiet as ever, fuming a little even though she did her best to hide it.
“You good?” I asked as I put the key in the ignition.
“Does it even matter what I say?” she said sulking.
“Of course, it matters. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.” I wondered if she was this prickly before they had kidnapped her, or if this was just who Savannah Rhymer was.
“Then I’d be better if you dropped me off at the train station, or the bus station, with some cash.”
I didn’t want to argue, so I stayed silent too, and it made for a long, tense drive. Eventually I pulled into my driveway, killed the engine, and turned to Savannah.
“Hate me if you want, but it’s obvious you need to recoup before you can go anywhere. Since you won’t tell me what happened, I’ll just give you the help I can.”
She continued to stare through the windshield like the cure to her ills was stuck on the end of the hood ornament. “Like I said before, it doesn’t fucking matter what I want, so whatever.” She made a move to grab her black trash bag, but too fast. She screamed out in pain. And when I reached to help her, she was like a cornered animal.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, flinching back. “I don’t need your help.” It took the damn woman five minutes, but she finally made it out of the truck and up the porch steps.
The door opened and Ma appeared with the same sweet smile she held for all strangers until they proved whether they were worthy—or assholes.
Ma stepped forward and said in a voice full of concern, “Oh honey, who did this to you?” Yet still Savannah recoiled. She took a step back, nearly falling down the porch steps.
I reached for her and in her effort to steer clear of me; she twisted her body to avoid falling, letting out a visceral cry of pain.
“Who didn’t do this to me,” she growled in response. “I’m fine, though. I don’t need any medical attention, and I can’t afford it if I did. Sorry you came all this way for nothing.” This aimed at Ma, not me.
Ma only smiled and shook her head. “I’m Jana. Pleased to meet you, Savannah. I’m not offering the kind of medical care you pay for, just a little bit of TLC that comes with love, bandages, and antibiotic cream. Come on in.” She took a step back and waited with a patient smile. Savannah glanced around, seemed to realize we had her cornered, but in a helpful way. She had no choice but to step inside, wincing all the way.
I followed my mother inside and closed the door behind me. “Thanks for coming, Ma. I appreciate it,” slipping off my kutte and hanging it over the doorknob for now.
“You didn’t tell me she was so pretty,” Ma whispered, but Savannah’s snort of disbelief said it wasn’t spoken quietly enough.
“You must be a nun or something to find a junkie whore pretty. But thanks.”
“Smart mouth too, just what you need.” Ma’s green eyes lit with amusement as she grabbed my arm and tugged me toward the kitchen.
“It’s not like that, Ma. It’s complicated.”
“Things always are with you bikers. Go check on some food while I patch your friend up. I brought some leftover chicken casserole. Help yourself. Just made it for your Daddy the other day. He says it’s delicious. I think we’ll go into the living room.”
I didn’t want to leave her alone with Savannah just in case she tried to bolt, but Ma gave me that look, and I knew there was no arguing with her. “Sure. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
“Better leave your keys too,” Savannah called out from her spot on the couch, “just in case the urge to flee gets too strong.”
Ma laughed. “I like her. You, go.”
I went to the kitchen, but I stood right near the doorway to hear what they said, just in case Savannah opened up to Ma more than she had to me.
Savannah’s painful groans reached the kitchen. I surmised Ma was lifting her t-shirt. “What happ
ened to your ribs?” she said. “Anything broken?” Ma’s concern was palpable, and I wondered just how badly the Jacks had wailed on her.
“Just got beat up a little. Nothing to worry about. I’m sure I’d be in more pain if they broke anything. Nothing some painkillers won’t fix.” She let out a yelp, and I knew Ma had started fixing her up.
I was a sick prick because every little hiss of pain brought a smile to my face knowing the tough girl wasn’t so tough after all. “And the split lip?”
“Part of the same beating, but it’s healing well, I think.”
“It’s not infected. Rub this tube on it three times a day to keep it that way. Take two of these when the pain gets too bad, but no more than three to four times a day. Okay?”
“Got it. Thanks for the help, it was…nice of you.”
“Any friend of Charlie’s—”
“We’re not friends,” she blurted, and there was no heat, no passion to her words.
“We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that one. Hungry?”
“Not really,” she said, even as her stomach growled loudly. “I’ll just throw it up anyway,” she clarified, her tone slightly embarrassed. “I ate a sandwich earlier.”
“Well, won’t hurt to try some homemade chicken casserole. Let’s get you in the kitchen. Come on, you can lean on me for help.”
A long moment passed and then movement. I heard shuffling toward the kitchen and they appeared in the doorway. We both helped Savannah find a comfortable position in one of the chairs around the table.
“Okay,” she said when Ma put some food on a plate. Savannah managed about five bites before she rushed off to the bathroom, leaving me and Ma alone.
“You sure you know what you’re doing, son? I know you’re the president of the club now, and you make the rules, but the guys won’t be happy with you keeping her here. Especially knowing where she’s been since she went missing.” She shook her head. “Poor girl.”
“I’m sure, Ma. She needs help. Maybe it was how you and Dad raised me, but she didn’t deserve what she lived through. No woman does. And I’m going to help her. Just to get her back on her feet.”
She smiled at me the way she did when I was an adventurous little boy, so eager for her attention. “Even after all the trouble the Black Jacks have caused for us?”
“Yep, even after all that. I get to do a good deed while taking away something, or someone, they value.” I didn’t want to think of Savannah in those terms. It just didn’t seem right, but that was how the Black Jacks and the Ashbys would see it.
“Then I support you. If she needs anything, you just let me know.”
A bitter laugh escaped at Ma’s hopeful words.
“Like she’ll tell me if she needs anything. I do know she needs some clothes. Found her with the rags she was wearing. Not even a decent pair of shoes.”
“Give her time, Charlie. She’s been through a lot and no matter who she is, nobody deserves that.”
“Nobody deserves what?” Savannah asked, appearing silently in the doorway. Her blue gaze bounced between us, full of suspicion.
“Charlie’s cooking,” Ma said without skipping a beat. “It’s terrible for the most part, edible but tasteless.” She frowned and shook her head. “If there’s some dish you want, I love to cook.”
Some color had come back into Savannah’s cheeks, but she slipped into her chair as if she was afraid she might fall. “Thanks, uh, ma’am, but I won’t be here long enough for that.”
I growled and turned to Savannah. I’m sure my anger came through my gaze. I was furious as I stood and got in her face. She didn’t even flinch.
“I told you that’s not a good idea. The Jacks will find you, and you’ll be back to where you were a week ago. Is that where you want to be? Only this time, it’ll be worse because you ran away.”
She glared at me, her blue eyes full of hate. “What. Ever.” Without another word, she turned and pulled herself out of the chair, sending it careening against the table, and stomped down the hall, slamming the guest room door so loud it shook the windows.
“See what I mean? She hates me.”
Ma laughed. “She’s angry. And hurt. Give her time. I’ll bring some clothes by later.”
Time was the one thing I could give her, because if I let her go, the Jacks would pimp her out again. She might even be dead before the week was over.
Chapter Sixteen
Savannah
Oh fun, I’m alive to see another shitty day. Yay me.
I’d had an easier time on withdrawal for the past few days. I woke up feeling less shitty than yesterday, so that was a good thing, right?
My mind was clearer, my ribs were healing, and I was hungry.
I thought about Charlie’s mom. I could tell she was one of the good ones. She had a warm and sunny disposition and kind green eyes, not to mention a soft touch that made it easy to trust her immediately, even though it went against my every instinct. She was the wife of an outlaw.
But, shock of all shocks, she hadn’t suggested that Charlie drop me off on the side of the road and forget about me.
She just supported him—and me. Her kindness touched me unexpectedly since it had been so long since I’d felt the love and support of a mother.
“I must be crazy if I’m thinking about mothers.” I hadn’t thought of my own mother in years, beyond her birthday and Mother’s Day each year, but Jana had brought those memories to the surface. I missed my mom. She would have never let this happen to me. Mom got cancer when I was a baby. Although she fought it for years, it finally took her from us when I was about ten.
Most of my memories of her were sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office or visiting her in the hospital. She’d always had a smile on her face, even when the pain was too much to bear. My father always stuck by her side. He was a great dad.
Well, until Mom died.
I sighed, wiping my eyes. Those memories were too painful to think about right now, so I shoved them down deep, like I always did. I had to get back to the especially important business of staring at the ceiling fan going round and round.
What else could I do? It wasn’t like I had any place to go, or anyone to see, which was why my gaze bounced from the fan to the slice of grass visible from the guest room window. I had no family, no friends, no home and no fucking place to go. That was the sad but true state of my life. To top it all off, Charlie had locked the door—for my protection—so the only thing I could do was think and stare and plan.
Why hadn’t I run out the front door instead of coming back in here? I can only blame myself for choosing this prison.
Plans required money, and I couldn’t even talk Charlie into spotting me a few thousand bucks so I could get the hell out of Nevada. The fact that he refused to do even that much for me, especially after the things I’d overheard—okay, eavesdropped—his mom saying, told me that Charlie had a plan for me. He might show more kindness than Roadkill or the other Black Jacks ever had, but he still held me hostage.
Which wasn’t much better than the Jacks.
But I kept reminding myself of one fact every time those gray eyes tried to fool me into thinking otherwise. Relative kindness was not kindness, another lesson no one told you as a kid.
The lock on the bedroom door turned with a loud click, and it opened slowly. Charlie peered around the door as though he had a surprise. “I got food. Let’s eat.”
“Not hungry,” I snapped, though he should know it by now. When had I ever jumped at his command?
He let out an impatient sigh and pushed the door all the way open.
“Jeezus, Savannah. You need to eat. I got pizza because everyone loves pizza. You’ve barely eaten since Ma was here. It’s been days. You need to eat.”
I shot him a look that conveyed all my pent up fury. Or it would have for any other human who wasn’t dense. Or didn’t have a plan to use me as ransom.
“What part of not hungry is difficult to understand? I�
�m not hungry and when I am, I’ll tap on the wall, and you can slide a plate under the door, or however they do it in prison.”
“You’re not a prisoner.”
“Sure, I’m not. Just locked in a room that I can’t leave.” I folded my arms and flashed a phony smile. “Sounds like a prison to me.”
Charlie’s lips kicked up into a crooked grin. “Come on, smart ass. Let’s eat.”
Something about that smile made something in me cave. At least for the pizza. I kicked my feet over the edge of the bed and said, “Fine. I’ll eat.” But I refused to show any enthusiasm.
The kitchen was better than being stuck in the guest room, and brighter than the living room. Jana told me Charlie had installed blackout shades on the bottom floor to keep unwanted eyes from peering inside when he wasn’t home. They’d been closed the day I arrived.
My slices waited on my plate while I watched Charlie inhale four or five slices of pizza. He’d put two plates on the table on either side of the pizza and a box of wings. Tall glasses stood next to bottles of soda, and a stack of napkins sat in the middle of the table.
“I’ll definitely take that root beer,” I said. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but the sugary soda calories took the edge off.
“Good girl,” he said softly and tossed a slice on my plate, careful not to make a big deal about it when I took a reluctant bite. It reminded me that yeah, my appetite was returning.
“How are you feeling?” he asked around a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni.
“Better than yesterday but not one hundred percent.” It was my problem, and I’d deal with it myself.
Charlie fell silent while he demolished two slices back-to-back. “It’ll get better.”
I nodded because that was one of those comments that didn’t really demand a response. It was just something people said to make themselves feel better about your predicament.
“How did you end up with the Jacks?” Now he looked at me with interest.
I downed my glass of root beer while I considered how much I wanted to reveal. “Ran away from those Ashby pricks and right into the arms of the Black Jacks.” Now we were getting into what he really wanted to know.
