Biker Daddy: Devil's Mustangs MC

by Paula Cox

  But Jager doesn’t seem to be in on it. And the longer it takes me to process it, the more he slows his voice, “Maddie, Michelle, the roommate. They’re gone.

  My mind goes blank as I force myself to see this as a reality. I stammer as I try to process what I need to say. I want confirmation, “They took her?”

  Jager nods as he explains, “The Coyotes. Her and that teacher that’s watching her. The patrol just found our pledges outside of their posts shot dead, their bikes and jackets stolen. When they checked over at the teacher’s house, there was an open door and a note.”

  Jager places the phone in my shaking hand as I lean down to read the tiny digital picture of the crudely handwritten note, “This is for Chris and the night of the attack. Don’t fuck with the Coyotes again. Blood for blood. -- Addison Bell.”

  I drop the phone to the ground, and look around. The faces are somber and cold. No one is quite sure what to do. Ace and Red Dog are at my side almost immediately as they begin to shout about revenge and promises to find her as soon as they come up with a plan. Jager joins in, bringing the war cries to a fever pitch.

  Despite that, I stay quiet. I have no words. All I can hear is the sound of Maddie’s voice as she is taken away from me by social services. Now, that record is on repeat, replaying each horrible moment with the added sound of Michelle’s cries to the mix. Both of them are in danger and no one here is moving on this. No one wants to go now.

  But I do. Without turning back, I head out the door towards where I parked my motorcycle. With or without the Mustangs, I’m going after my girls.

  Chapter 25: Fog and Haze

  MICHELLE

  I can’t breathe. My knees are pushed all the way up to my chest, and I am struggling to catch fresh air over the dank smell of the exhaust seeping in through the trunk. Erin is rolled over partially on top of me. From the dim flashlight rolling around by our feet, I can see that her eyes are still closed and the little trail of blood from her forehead has stopped actively bleeding. I have no idea if she is alive or dead. I close my eyes, trying to remember what exactly is going on.

  It comes to me in flashes. Three days ago, Maddie and I were upstairs working on a history project for her alternative classroom when we heard a bang. It was the sound of the door flying off of its hinges. Then came Erin’s scream and the drop of something hard and metal on the kitchen floor. I ran to our door, shutting it quietly. Turning back towards a frightened Maddie, I tried to suppress my own fear as I instructed her, “You have to hide! Go into the closet, in the very corner. Hide behind one of my storage tubs. Don’t come out no matter what. I mean it.”

  She had only gotten about halfway back before I heard them running up the stairs, shouting for us to come out. I threw the doors to the closet shut just in time – half a second later, the opened the door. There were four of them -- large, burly men, wearing black jackets with patches just like Cal’s. At first, I thought they may be with the Mustangs, but when they began to instruct me onto the ground, I knew instantly who it was.

  “Where’s the girl?” the leader of the group with his long, stringy beard stared me down from behind the barrel of a handgun. “Tell me where she is!”

  “What girl?” I played dumb. It was my only defense.

  He motioned to one of his friends and he walked over, grabbed me by my hair, and yanked me down to the ground. I was inches from the leader’s boots when he screams it again, “The girl! Where the fuck is Cal Ross’ daughter?”

  I looked up at his pant legs and said defiantly, “I don’t know who you mean.”

  The only thing I remember fully after that is his boot raising over my head, a sting of searing white pain, and then – blackness.

  When I came to, both my ears were ringing, and I had a nasty headache. I brought my hand to where the bastard had kicked me, but as I did so, I felt hands grab my arms away from me and stand me up. One of them pinned me up against the wall. I could make out the leader’s voice, seething, “If this bitch ain’t gonna talk, we’re gonna have to figure out a way to force her.”

  I fluttered my eyes open, and I saw him lift his hand above his head. I cowered down, trying to get as far from him as possible, though I knew it was fruitless. As he came towards me, though, I heard Maddie’s small voice cry out, “Wait! Don’t hurt her! I’m here – I’m right here!”

  “Maddie, no!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice going hoarse.

  The men laughed as they let me down to turn their attention to her. The leader circled her like a wolf, tousling her hair. “So,” he said slowly, “you’re the Maddie Ross, the Vice’s daughter? You don’t look like anything worth protecting. But I’ve got my orders.”

  He snapped his fingers, and one of the men grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. She screamed, reaching out her arms towards me as I tried to fight back against the man holding me. I watched as he took her out of my sight. That was the last time I saw her, the last time I heard her voice.

  After that, the men threw me down my stairs and put me in my living room. The leader made phone calls to determine our fate, ultimately deciding it was better to keep us both alive – at least for now. Apparently they might need us if Cal came looking. We were that extra bit of leverage they could have against his enemy.

  Then, they put us in the back of a van with bags over our head. When Erin tried to speak to me, they slammed the wooden handle of a hammer against her head till she stopped talking and her body slumped up against mine. When we got to wherever we were going, they put us into this trunk, where we’ve been ever since, only let out a few times to go to the bathroom, get a drink, and for a woman to place snack cakes in our tied hands.

  I count the seconds down in my head. I do them slowly – trying to make sure I don’t underestimate how much time has passed in our moving prison. I’m well over five thousand before the car pulls to a stop again and I hear someone approach the trunk. As light streams in the back, I look up to see a man holding an old Polaroid camera up to his head. A light beam flashes, making me blink. He hands the developing photo to another man dressed in black.

  Another man holds out a cup of clear liquid that I drink quickly, eagerly. My dry tongue tries to ask for more, but they just laugh and then push the trunk closed again. I count the seconds again, this time to the tune of my favorite songs. Erin’s body turns over once more, and I cuddle close, praying my warmth will keep her alive.

  “We’re going to get out of here,” I whisper hoarsely. But as it becomes harder to focus on the amount of seconds passing by and the bumps feel more like waves washing over me, I lose hope that my end isn’t anywhere but here in this trunk with Cal a million miles away.

  Chapter 26: Remembering You

  MICHELLE

  10,345.

  10,346.

  10,347.

  …

  Each second that passes is another I spend in complete and utter agony. Each second that passes is another in which I am kept in the dark. I’ve reset my clock a few times now – each after someone has opened the door to the trunk I’m currently being kept in. But now we’re getting to the three-hour mark, and I’m starting to grow anxious.

  Unlike before, the car hasn’t moved at all. At least, I haven’t felt it move or noticed the engine turn on. My nostrils and throat haven’t felt the sting of the noxious gas fill my lungs as I try to gasp into the bandana wrapped around my gagged mouth. But I also haven’t heard any sounds either. No muffled voices, no footsteps just outside. Nothing. It’s as if Erin and I have been forgotten.

  So all I can do is wait and count. Wait and count. And think, too. I’m not going be able to sleep; that’s far from happening. So, instead, my mind races with forbidden, horrible thoughts about what led me here and how I am partially responsible for all this. It’s my fault that my roommate Erin’s cold, motionless body is laying next to me and it’s my fault Maddie disappeared. I have to take some credit for my own life hanging by a thread.

  Everything began s
o innocently. I was just a teacher, like any other teacher. I wanted those straight line desks, the pencils all neatly stacked in my organizer, and students who wrote their names on their paper each and every time. But, instead, I got Maddie and her dirty mouth, her loud comments, her love of fighting anyone and everyone who dared question who she was. And how could I not care about her? How could I not want to step in and make sure she was okay?

  But one little, dirty touch in my classroom changed all that. I can still feel the heat of his breath on my cheeks as he says, “Miss Springer” to me in that condescending, overbearing voice of his. It’s the one that makes me weak in the knees and lose all sense of control. It’s the one that led me to crossing that line and allowing his hands to slip under the hem of my dress and up my thigh.

  I eventually made a bed with him despite knowing better. But there was something about him, something about how he held my face in his enormous calloused hands and ran his fingers through my hair that made me want him over and over again.

  I put my job on the line to be with him and to see Maddie get through her challenges. But no good deed goes unpunished. I should have learned that lesson ages ago. However, I like to see the best in everyone, the potential in the most helpless. And for Maddie and Cal, the Ross family, they became my project. How could I take a man out of his motorcycle club and his daughter out of a life that would only stifle her abilities?

  But I should have known I would eventually get caught up in his danger. That’s all he is – fire and blood, sweat and motor oil. Every part of him from those dirty boots to the black and gray tattoos along his chest were warning signs that I was too blind in the moment to read. Now I am paying a price. With each second that ticks on by in my brain, I know my time is running out and running short. There wouldn’t be many more moments left to spend thinking about Cal or us together.

  11,243.

  11,244.

  11,245.

  There’s a small thud, then some scuffs. It’s the sound of heavy shoes on pavement followed by the familiar crunch of gravel. I hear a small voice screech as she yells out to someone, anyone, “Where are you taking me?” There’s a pause. Maybe someone’s answered her, but she’s even more terrified as she adds, “I don’t want to go there! Please! No! Not there!”

  Maddie’s voice suddenly fades into the distance with some slams and another shuffle. It’s the first I’ve heard of her since the men took us this afternoon. I let out a sigh of relief. Despite us being so close to our ends, at least I know Maddie is still alive. And even better, she’s still fighting like the girl I know and have come to love.

  But what about me? How was I going to fight this? I don’t have a moment to even think of a plan. Before I can get to 11,351 seconds, the black trunk fills with beams of lights pointed directly into my eyes. I blink rapidly, trying to look away. A man laughs as I recoil towards the back of the trunk, away from their hands. “They’re like dogs in a cage.” He jabs at Erin with the end of his long, black flashlight. “Well, except this one. She looks dead. Did you tell Mountain?”

  His partner tussles Erin a bit, turning her over to face him. I get a good look at her for the first time in a few hours. She’s pale, her head covered in red streaks of blood from where she was hit. Her body is limp and not responding. But the man and I notice the same thing. She’s breathing. He turns back to his friend, “She ain’t dead, Addison. At least not yet. You want me to call the doc or tell Mountain or something?”

  “No. Just get her downstairs with the kid. It won’t matter by tomorrow evening.” He smiles at me, seeing the fear spring in my eyes. Whatever is happening tomorrow evening is something I do not want to know about. But at least now I know a timeline. I have to get out of here, out of their capture in about twelve hours.

  The man pulls Erin out of the trunk and throws her over his shoulders, just like he would a sack of vegetables or a weight at the gym. Her body sways dangerously near to the ground as I watch him go down the steps, wobbling at each one. A metal door, charred and brown, closes with a loud squeak of the hinges, and I’m left alone with the man.

  He looks at me questioningly as he pulls out a pack of red and white cigarettes. He leans against the car as he smokes one slowly, “So you’re Cal Ross’ gal?” he asks almost amused. “You know, I wouldn’t think he would like a girl like you. You’re a bit uptight for his tastes. At least, compared to his wife. Or, should I say dead wife? He has a habit of killing the girls in his life.”

  He lets out a long cackle at his own sick joke, and I try to close my mind to him. Instead, I am trying to focus on every bit of detail I can about the place that I am in. It’s a garage. Or, at least what used to be a garage. There are burned out cars to the sides of me, and I can still smell smoke and char in the air. This place has been recently burnt down, and so much so I can see the marks of a fireball in the cement walls and on the concrete ground.

  I lift my head a bit, trying to see what’s behind me, but it’s caught his attention. He can see what I am trying to do, and he isn’t too happy about it. I watch helplessly as he leans over me and grabs my long, thin hair into a ponytail.

  With an excruciating yank of force, he pulls my by the root of my scalp towards the front of the trunk while screaming, “Get out, bitch! Get out.” I tumble out of the car and onto the cement and gravel ground, falling straight onto my wrists and elbows. I cry out a bit as he picks me up again by the hair, forcing me to stand to face him. He comes toe to toe with me, pressing himself up against my chest and body. His voice lowers as he says, “You’ll do what I fucking say and when I fucking say it. Or else, you’re going to have a lot of problems with me and my boys. Do you understand me?”

  I nod enthusiastically. I can sense from the way he touches me what he is hinting at, and I am not risking that. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever. The name of the game is survival first, rescue Maddie and Erin second, and save myself last. And if that means following orders and staying peaceful, so be it.

  “Good. Now get walking.” He spins me around by my waist, facing me towards the door.

  I walk at a clip towards it with him following behind me. I can hear his breathing rise as we get nearer and the sounds of men celebrating become clearer to me. Whatever’s waiting for me isn’t going to be pretty.

  The door opens and the smell of dirty bodies, ashes, and piss fill my mouth and I begin to gag. There’s barely a light, only a few small, dingy windows with glass blocks trapping out the clear light to guide me. Still, I can see the men I go pass leer at me as they lick their lips and laugh to themselves. They all know who I am. I am the girl who slept with Cal Ross, the vice president of the Mustangs. And I’m a piece of meat to be devoured by them. That’s more than crystal clear.

  One of them chuckles as he says to the man behind me, “Oh come on, boss. Let’s just have a taste of her or that sweet piece of ass that’s with her. I don’t mind mine almost dead.”

  Another voice shouts out loudly, “That’s cause the only time you can get it is when they’re almost dead!”

  The man behind me ignores him and opens a metal door. He turns me around and reaches out my hands. I try not to look at him, or any of the other men panting and staring, as he places metal cuffs around my thin wrists. He spins them tight, and I can feel the cold, hard steel push into my skin. Before I can complain or ask him to loosen them a bit, he turns me around again towards the open door and kicks me hard against my butt and thighs.

  My body falls with a hard bang, and I am just barely able to catch myself on the landing of some concrete stairs. I slowly pull myself to sitting and crouch towards the one window of the room, hoping I can see better if I have some source of light. But the sound of my knees and hands crawling on the pavement awakes something as I hear a cough and a whisper from the far side of the room.

  “Hello? Hello? Who’s there?” It’s Maddie! Her voice is tired, completely overwhelmed. I’ve never heard her so terrified of anything, even when the house she was living in
was getting shot up by the Coyotes in a vicious attack.

  “Maddie! It’s me! It’s Miss Springer. It’s Michelle. Where are you, sweetheart?” I try to keep my voice low, but I am too excited to hear her, to be near her.

  “I’m over in the far corner. I can’t walk. I think my leg is broken or something. It’s all twisted. Can you come here?”

  I change course and head straight towards her, my hands searching for her in the dark. But I don’t find her body lying on the cold ground. I find Erin’s. I shriek a bit, scaring Maddie even further. “What is it? Is it Erin? Is she okay?”

  I bend down near Erin’s face and listen to the soft breaths. They’re weak and far apart, but there’s air and a heartbeat. And for the moment, that’s the best news I can get outside of Maddie being alive. I turn back to her, continuing to crawl towards her. “Erin’s going to be okay. She’s just knocked out from the hit. But we have to get out of here, okay.”

  I find Maddie’s leg first. She’s right. It’s twisted back in an unusual way, and I can feel the thick pulse under the swollen flesh. I tell her to hold onto the wall as I pull it out from under her and around towards the front. I then rip off the sleeve of my flannel shirt to wrap around the top. She cries out as I tie a large knot around the muscle.