Cassie rolled out of bed, grabbed her phone and called Hoss. Her muscles went rigid and she screamed when his phone rang, rattling on the nightstand while the caller ID showed her listed as My Cassie. “Jesus fucking shit. Stupid.” She tried Tugboat and got voice mail. Deke was the same, and that was the extent of her contacts for Hoss’ friends in the Rebels. The business phone for his agent sent her to voice mail too, and she looked at the clock on her phone, realizing it was barely 5:00 a.m., much earlier than she’d thought when first awoken.
“Someone’s always at the clubhouse.” The shop would be closed, but the club’s command center was a large house they’d converted to communal housing and use, and there were always men hanging around there. Even if they were all asleep, at least there she’d be able to pound on a door until someone woke up, not like the phones, where technology shifted her around until she couldn’t reach anyone she needed to. She glanced at the clock again and stifled another scream as she realized another three minutes had rolled past. “Thirty minutes.”
She yanked jeans up her legs, not caring for the burning scrapes left behind in her haste. Boots in hand, she raced down the stairs and slid to a stop in the kitchen, threw herself to the floor, forced her bare feet into her boots, jerking at the zippers and ignored the pinch as metal teeth raked her skin. Phones shoved deep into her pockets, she was up again, grabbed her keys, and barreled through the back door, slamming the door open wide on her way into the garage. She had the bike started before the overhead finished seating in place, and roared out of the enclosure, not bothering to close or lock anything behind her.
Once on the streets, she angled her way through intersections, cutting seconds from her trip every chance she had. Minutes later, she rolled up in front of the clubhouse, sliding to a stop in front of the closed gate. Without a word or signal, it groaned and then eased open at an agonizing pace. Once there was enough room to scrape through, she cracked her throttle, roaring into the parking lot. As soon as she had the kickstand down and bike killed, she jumped off, running to the door. Fist raised, she pounded hard against the wood, calling out for Hoss.
She lurched forwards, falling inside off balance when the door opened, and a man’s hand caught at her arm, shoving her roughly back outside. “The fuck you want, bitch?”
It was not a face she knew, so she looked beyond him at the dark hallway. “Hoss!” Cassie shouted, arms rigid at her sides, his phone locked in the grip of one hand. “Hoss, I need you.”
“Fuck, bitch, you don’t need anything here.” The man put a hand on her belly and shoved her back. He wasn’t rough, but his touch was firm as he forced her to put three steps between her and the doorway. He pulled it shut behind him and leaned against the jam, arms folded across his chest. “Get.”
“Hoss. I had a call and Hoss needs to know about it.” Shaking, she fought against the terror bubbling up through her throat. This stranger had touched her, twice, and she felt the heat from those connections like a sunburn, fear bleeding into her from that chance contact. Cassie tried to lift her gaze from his chest, losing the battle as her panic swelled through her like a flood. God, no. Please. Not now. “Hoss. He needs…” She swallowed and held up the phone. “A man called.”
“Pretty as you are, I bet you get a lotta that. Don’t mean shit, woman.” He bent forwards at the waist and told her firmly. “Now get. Go on.” Unfolding his arms, he made a shooing motion with his hands. “Get outta here.”
“Hoss needs to know.” She drew the tattered edges of her courage around her like a cloak, throat clicking as she tried to swallow. Her tongue felt two sizes too large for her mouth, dry as a desert, and Cassie felt her chin tremble. “The man said something important.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t cry. Just go, honey. If Hoss wants you, he’ll call.”
She held the phone up and felt the first tears slide down her cheeks. “He can’t.” She glanced at the clock on the screen and realized twenty minutes had passed since the call. “He’s going to call in ten minutes.”
“You aren’t making any sense.” The man’s voice had softened from his first angry reaction, and Cassie felt his pity like a blow. “Hoss’ll call if he wants you.” He shook his head. “Go on, get off Rebel property. Go home. Go home and wait. He wants you, he’ll let you know. You don’t belong here.”
She whirled and ran to her bike. In a moment, she was headed out of the parking lot and back onto the streets. You don’t belong here. She might not know where Hoss lived, but Tug had shown her his house more than once on their rides, so she aimed her front wheel in that direction. She wouldn’t stop just because some stranger passed judgment on her based on nothing more than a two-minute encounter. Oh yes, I do.
***
Hoss
Arms over his head, he stretched until his shoulders and back popped, the cracking of tendon and muscle sounding like gravel bouncing off a tin roof. Hoss yawned and rolled to one side, peeling one eyeball open to check the time. Six in the morning after a late-evening blowout with the club is way too early to be up and cogitating. But today was the day he would get Cassie back, earning his way back into the core of her. Gonna make it so she’s never alone again.
“House, start the coffee.” He waited for the robotic verbal response and sprawled back across the mattress.
Long ago, Myron had hooked up a smart network in the home of any member who wanted it, and Hoss had been one of the first to jump on board. Using the system now was second nature to him and his kids, even if both Sammy and Faith had tried to get up to some hijinks through the years. He’d been forced to stifle his laughter one night as he listened to Sammy and some of his teammates as they’d tried to teach the system dirty limericks.
He reached over his head again, pushing his muscles to their limit. The ride back from Texas had been fast and brutal on old bones, but everyone in the column had their own reasons to push through fatigue and pain. Back in Fort Wayne, Hoss had intended to just do a stop and go at his house, but he’d completely forgotten about the picnic. When he’d started back out the door with the sketch in hand, Faith’s face had fallen in disappointment, and he didn’t have it in him to leave his little girl hanging. Not after she’d worked so hard to get everything set-up and ready, and the club had already been scheduled to descend on their home within only a couple of hours.
Then he’d intended to cut loose midevening and go to Cassie, but conversations about club business trumped his own desires. Change was coming, and the more people Mason let in on the knowledge, the more management of the information was needed. It’s always something, he thought and sat up on the edge of the mattress.
The house phone rang at the other end of the house and he kicked himself for the hundredth time for losing his cell phone. Pushing to his feet with a groan, he reached for a pair of jeans draped over the foot of the bed and pulled them on. Padding barefoot up the hallway, he asked the air, “House, who’s calling?”
“Tugboat is calling.” Huh. Wonder what the old man wants.
“Go ahead and answer it.” That’d get the call connected before he actually had to hit a button. Once in the kitchen he called out, “I’m comin’, old man. Gimme a minute.” The room was silent and he wondered if the call had disconnected. Then he heard breathing. “Tug, what’s up, brother?”
“Faynez with you?” Hoss stopped short at the alarming panic in Tug’s voice. “She there, Hossman?”
“It’s early and I haven’t seen her. Lemme check.” Leaning back from the phone, he bellowed up the hallway, “Faynez, come here.” Silence greeted him, and he waited for a beat. “She’s probably sleeping in. What’s up?”
“Go see, brother. Go see if she’s in bed. She is, then I’m gonna apologize for waking you.”
He stared at the phone, then as an echo from the past rang through his memories, he whirled and pelted back up the hallway to Faith’s room. Without knocking, something unheard of for the past half a decade, he opened her door to see a neatly made, complete
ly empty bed. He moved to Sammy’s old room and yanked the door open, surprised to see a body under the covers. “Faith, what are you doing in Sam’s—” He stopped abruptly when Garrett lifted his head from the pillow and looked at him, confused and sleepy. “Garrett, you know where Faith Inez is?” Mason’s son shook his head back and forth, but a fleeting emotion crossed his face.
Hoss remembered Faith’s tears from the night before, how Garrett had come and gotten him, told him she’d locked herself in the bathroom. He remembered how angry the boy had been at Jonny, who he’d blamed for everything. And he remembered how Faith had latched onto Garrett when she’d finally come back out, using the boy as a shield against everyone. Fucker better not have touched her. Hoss’ blood was boiling at the terror leeching strength from his legs, and he reached out and ripped the covers back. The boy was alone, not hiding Faith under the sheets like Hoss had suddenly feared. “You sure you don’t know where she is?”
“No, sir.” Garrett sat up and pushed off the bed. He’d slept in his jeans. Hoss had a moment of disorientation when Garrett stood and straightened until he was not even an inch shorter than the older man, so much taller than Hoss remembered. Garrett shook his head and asked, “She’s not in her room? We watched a movie and she told me it would be okay if I stayed.” Something the boy had done countless times in the past, and nothing Hoss had ever worried about before. “Did I do something wrong, Hoss?”
“No, son. You’re fine. I just need to talk to her.” Hoss turned around and called out, “House, put the call on speaker.” A click echoed through the rooms and he clipped out, “She ain’t here, Tugboat. What’s going on?”
“Hoss?” He stopped midstride and looked around as if his dreams and wishes had somehow conjured the woman he loved to his house. “It’s Cassie.”
“Yeah, I got that. What are you doin’ with Tug?” That wasn’t the right question and he knew it, but this was his insecurity talking loud and clear. “What’s going on with Faynez?” Back on track, he thought as he stalked to the kitchen, Garrett padding along behind him.
“You left your phone.” Cassie’s voice cracked and broke and Hoss found his shoulders hunching in as if he could take on whatever was hurting her. “At my house.”
“Yeah?”
Tugboat interrupted, and his words tore the ground out from under Hoss. “Man called your phone this morning, said he’s got Faynez. Said he wanted to talk to you. Deadline was near forty minutes ago, but he didn’t call back yet.”
***
Cassie
Hearing the steady strength in Hoss’ voice calmed Cassie a little. He sounded so sure of himself as he went back and forth with Tugboat about possible players in whatever game Faith had gotten caught up in. Not that he was calm or unmoved, but just from Hoss’ words and his tone, she knew he believed he would find his daughter, get her back, and she’d be okay.
Actually arriving at Tugboat’s home had nearly seemed anticlimactic after her frantic search for the exact street and address. Her memories had led her astray twice and she’d had to backtrack for blocks until another flash of “there” would happen. Tug had already been up and dressed, working on his second cup of coffee when she pulled up to the curb. Which meant he’d heard the bike and been waiting on his porch by the time she made it up his steps, arms out to catch her.
Five minutes of conversation, and he’d made two calls before dialing Hoss’ home number. Myron, who Cassie knew in passing, and Mason, a man Cassie had yet to meet. Listening to Tug’s side of the conversations had been frustrating, but from his responses, she knew they were immediately headed to where Hoss was. Coordination of whatever would happen would be from his home, and the men were rallying their friends to join them. It had been such a relief to pass the baton to those capable men, and she caught another glimpse of what Hoss had in the club, in the brotherhood.
“Get here, brother.” Hoss clipped out the words brusquely to Tug. “Garage is open. I just saw Mason and My roll in. I need you, old man. You get here and help me.”
Before Tug could disconnect the call, Cassie asked, hating how tentative her voice sounded, “May I come, too?” She stumbled over the words, trying to find the right ones to tell him what it would mean to her. “I want to…that is I would…Hoss—”
He interrupted her, his voice deep and soft like satin through the speakers. “Come to me, baby. Please.”
“I will,” she promised and looked up to see Tug’s mouth curved in a sad smile.
***
Garrett
He heard the words but couldn’t make sense out of them.
Someone had taken Faynez, as in kidnapped her.
Someone has her right now. At that thought, an endless round of possible terrifying scenarios raced through his mind, each worse than the others.
He pictured her face bruised and bloody, her mouth open screaming for help. Or maybe she was shivering in a dark cellar. What if Faynez were fighting for her life against shadowy assailants? His heart stuttered at the thought of her lying still and quiet, tears running down her face as someone moved over her. He choked when he imagined her lying still, skin gray, eyes staring sightlessly.
Garrett ruthlessly cut off the thoughts, stopping himself before he could do anything to remind Hoss he was here, because he knew the adult in the room would want to instinctively protect him from whatever was happening.
And Garrett, as he’d been taught by the smartest man he knew, listened and heard.
I’m not waiting
Faith
Straining against the bonds holding her to the chair, Faith tipped her head down and watched as droplets of sweat fell on her skirt, staining the fabric in growing circles. Pain ripped up her arms, but she didn’t stop, praying it wasn’t her imagination that things had begun to loosen. Twisting her wrists back and forth, she contorted her thumbs and fingers, trying to slip free. Something in her thumb joint popped loud and echoed in the room as agony shot through her nerves, her chin lifting as her neck arched up and back. Eyes squeezed tightly shut against the swelling wave of pain, Faith bit down on the scream that tried to erupt from her chest.
How could I be so stupid?
Everything had gone as planned, all the talk she and Drago pitched back and forth boiling down to the core of everything Faith felt was wrong in her life. Stifled and stymied by her father and his friends, by her brother, by Jonny…she just wanted a day to herself, a single day where she could do what she wanted. Be who she wanted.
Her shoulder cramped and she rolled the muscles as far as she dared, trying to drive the spasm away. Another pinch along her wrist and the bindings slipped an inch farther down her contorted hand. Yes.
It jerked and stopped, stuck in place, and felt tighter than ever where it was situated just above her knuckles. Dammit.
As the sun broke the horizon that morning, her mother’s old car, not used but kept in running condition and registration up to date by her father’s obsessive attention to detail, had started on the first turn of the key. Faith had driven a lot over the past couple of years to feel confident, time spent jolting in a jeep across acreage Gunny owned in Ohio, driving Sammy home from games via backroads, or after she’d gotten her permit, chauffeuring her father around town. Once out of the garage without an alarm being raised, she’d aimed the car towards Ohio, placing her phone on the passenger seat to call out directions.
Driving through the growing light, Faith gritted her teeth and held tightly to her decision. She and Drago were meeting, and then going to a mall in Columbus to see a movie and have lunch. That was all. He’d offered to come to Fort Wayne, but the chances of someone she knew seeing them was too great. If word got back to her dad that she’d been out with a college-aged man, he would go ballistic. Columbus was safer, and after the party yesterday, she knew everyone would be sleeping in anyway. I’ll probably be home before they miss me. She shook her head.
Nothing had gone right yesterday. Well, sure, the party had gone off without a hitch, a
nd she knew her father appreciated all her hard work on that, because it supported his close relationships with the men in the club. But between Sammy and Jonny, her nerves had been frazzled even before the sun went down. Thank God for Garrett. He’d seemed to know something was wrong, but instead of trying to force her to talk about it like Sammy would have, he’d just sat beside her on the couch, letting her use his shoulder for a pillow.
A sign ahead announced Welcome to Ohio, and she sighed as she drove underneath the arching metal. Another mile closer to a day that promised to be the most fun she’d ever had, and she couldn’t wait to finally meet Drago.
Lips pulled back from her teeth, Faith strained again, doing her best to ignore the warm liquid dripping from her fingertips. That excitement didn’t last long. Anger swept through her again at the memory of what happened when she pulled up to the ill-kempt house isolated by acres of farmland.
Faith stared at the house standing in the midst of tall weeds, a half-collapsed barn visible around the corner of the building. Decorative shutters alongside attic windows had fallen askew, giving the structure a cockeyed look. The phone chimed again, announcing she’d arrived at her destination. This can’t be right. She unlocked the car and stepped out, soles of her sneakers gritting against the loose gravel of the driveway. Faith took two steps to the side and peered around the home, hoping to see someone, anyone, so she didn’t have to go up those stairs to the rickety porch and knock on some stranger’s door. She blinked, surprised, because instead of a parked soccer mom van or maybe a swing for kids, she saw a staggered row of bikes.
“You actually fuckin’ came. Holy shit.” The voice came from behind her and she turned just as a man shut her car door. He took a step towards her as she stared at him. Tall, broad in the shoulders, his long hair was drawn back in a loose ponytail at the back of his head. A ragged beard and mustache surrounded full lips that were curved at the corners into a small smile. His eyes were dark blue, and brooding, overshadowed by heavy brows that lent his entire aspect a dangerous cast. That smile on his mouth didn’t reach his eyes, and Faith shivered. “Faith Inez Rogers, as I live and fuckin’ breathe.”
Rebel Wayfarers MC Boxset 4 Page 89
