Holding On: Ruthless Sinners MC

by L. Wilder

  “You sure?”

  “Um-hmm. I like how they feel, and they smell really good too.”

  A slight smile crossed his face. “Glad you like them.”

  “Wait.” I looked over to him with surprise. “Are these yours?”

  “They are.”

  “Oh.” I glanced down and smiled. Once again, Shotgun had been there when I needed him. “Well, thanks for letting me borrow them.”

  “Anytime.”

  I turned on the water at the sink and he stepped out of the room, giving me a chance to freshen up on my own. There was a mirror in front of me, but I could barely stand to look at myself as I washed my face and arms. While it helped to get cleaned off a bit, I wanted desperately to wash my hair. I knew I couldn’t do it on my own, so I called out, “Hey, Shotgun. Can you come here a minute?”

  “Yeah.” He stepped back in the room with a concerned look. “Whatcha need?”

  “Any ideas on how I might be able to wash my hair?”

  He stood there for a moment, then turned and walked out of the bathroom. “Hold on.”

  “Okay.”

  Seconds later, he came back with a chair, then placed it against the sink and said, “How about this? You can sit and do it.”

  “Are you going to help me?”

  “Um...I could go grab one of the girls to help ya.”

  I was already mortified he was seeing me in such a terrible state, especially when he looked the way he did. While he’d done his best to hide it, he had to have been repulsed by the sight of me, and I couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else being forced to view me this way. I must’ve been out of my mind to think this rough, tough biker would be willing to wash my hair, but I asked nonetheless. “Thanks, but if you don’t mind, I’d really rather you do it.”

  It was clear Shotgun had no idea what to do or say as he stood there gaping at me like a deer in headlights. He glanced over to the sink, then back over to me. I was beginning to think he was going to tell me that he couldn’t do it, especially when he started shaking his head, but to my surprise, he motioned his hand over to the chair and said, “Sit, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Okay.” I carefully moved over to the chair and held on to his arm as I slowly sat down. Once I was seated, he reached over and grabbed the shampoo out of the shower. When I noticed he was ready, I inched my head back until it was resting on the ledge of the sink. As he wet my hair, I said, “I really appreciate you doing this.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He turned on the faucet and checked the water’s temperature, then gathered my hair into the sink, but right before he picked up the shampoo, he looked down at me with his eyebrow cocked high. “I mean it, Remington. Don’t mention this shit to anyone.”

  I started to giggle but quickly stopped when I felt a stabbing pain in my side. Damn bruised ribs. I winced as I said, “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Good.” Just to be clear, this wasn’t a hair wash that you might see in a romantic movie where the guy was all sexy and sultry as he moved his hands through the girl’s luxurious locks. Don’t get me wrong, it still felt amazing. Even though he might’ve been eager to finish and moved quickly, his touch was soft and gentle. As soon as he was done shampooing, he promptly rinsed my hair, then helped me wrap it in a towel. “That should do it.”

  Shotgun carefully lifted me and carried me back to the bedroom. I was surprised by how safe I felt in his arms and was almost disappointed when he placed me down on the bed. Moving around had taken its toll, and I was suddenly extremely tired. I could barely keep my eyes open as I mumbled, “Thank you.”

  “You know”—his eyes drifted over me—“you’re stronger than you look.”

  “And you’re kinder than you let people think, so I guess we’ve both got people fooled.”

  “If you think I’m kind, then you got the wrong idea about me.”

  “Actions speak louder than words.”

  “Exactly.” With an incoherent grumble, he started for the door. “Get some rest.”

  “Wait,” I muttered with a groggy voice. “I thought you still had questions for me.”

  “I do, but they can wait. I’ll be back later tonight, and we can finish up then.”

  Too tired to argue, I closed my eyes with a groan, so out of it that I never even heard the door close. I was sleeping soundly when, out of the blue, the dreams started. It was one horrible nightmare after the next. I could feel the panic creeping over me as I tried to pull myself out of it. I must’ve been causing quite a scene because it wasn’t long before I felt someone shaking me. “Wake up, Remington. Come on, kid. Wake up.”

  When I opened my eyes, I found Doc hovering over me. I inhaled a quick, pained breath as I mumbled, “I was having a bad dream.”

  “I see that.” He stood and smiled. “It’s over now.”

  “I wish that were true.”

  “It will be soon enough. You’ll see.” A soft smile crossed his face as he asked, “You feeling okay?”

  “Yeah, just a little woozy.”

  “I imagine.” He reached into his pocket and took out a bottle of pills. “I brought your pain meds. Use them whenever you need them.”

  “Okay, thanks. I think I’m okay for now.” I happened to glance over at the window, and when I saw that it was dark outside, I asked, “What time is it?”

  “It’s almost nine.”

  “Seriously?” I thought I’d only been asleep for an hour or so, but in truth, it had been more like eight. “I hadn’t realized that it was so late.”

  “You needed the rest, but you also have to eat something. Can I get you a sandwich or some more crackers?”

  “Don’t go to any trouble. Anything would be fine.”

  “Okay. I’ll grab you something from the kitchen.” On his way over to the door, he asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “A bottle of water would be great.”

  “You got it.”

  He walked out, and ten minutes later when my door opened, I expected to see Doc, but instead, it was Shotgun. He didn’t say a word as he closed the door and placed a bottle of water along with a sandwich and a bag of chips on the table next to me. There was something about the way he moved and the expression on his face that gave me the feeling he wasn’t in the best of moods. He remained silent as he walked into the bathroom to grab the chair left by the sink and brought it back over to the edge of the bed. As he sat down, I asked, “Is everything okay?”

  “No. Actually, it’s not.” His face was void of expression, making it difficult to determine just how bad things really were. I decided not to push, and just sat there silently waiting for him to speak. After several long, agonizing moments, he finally said, “Earlier, we were talking about what happened on the day of the attack.”

  “Yeah, and I already told you that I don’t remember much about it.” I could tell he was on edge and not happy with my response. “I’m sorry. I’m really trying, but everything’s so muddled up in my head.”

  His blue eyes never left mine as he said, “Gonna have to try harder. Your life depends on it.”

  “Man, you really know how to set a girl’s mind at ease.”

  “Just giving it to ya straight. Figured you deserved that much.”

  “Well, I appreciate it, and I’ll do my best to tell you what I can.” I tried to think back to that day, but the memories were just out of reach. I could come up with these little glimmers, but nothing more. I knew Shotgun would just keep pushing, so I continued, “I know I went to work that day. I had a project I was working on for a new bakery in town, and I went in early to finish my part of the presentation. After that, I don’t really know.”

  “Did you go out to dinner?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Did you go to the Parlor that night? Have a burger with Thomas?” As soon as the words left his mouth, my breath caught, and I knew something horrible was about to follow. I grimaced as I prepared myself for what he was about to say n
ext. “Do you remember Thomas? Thomas Long? He’s a cop.”

  And just like that all the memories bombarded me at once, hitting me so hard I could barely manage to speak. “Oh my God.”

  “You remember Thomas Long?”

  “Yes! Where is he?” I asked on the verge of tears. “Is he here too?”

  Shotgun’s brows furrowed with confusion. “No, he’s not here.”

  “Oh, God.” I gasped as I brought my hands up to my face. “That means they have him.”

  “Who?”

  “The men who attacked me! There were so many of them. We couldn’t get away.”

  “I’m not following, Remington. I’m going to need you to start from the beginning and tell me exactly what you remember.”

  My throat felt like it was closing on me, and my heart was racing a mile a minute. The memories of those men, the hitting and kicking, the threats and confusion, were racing through my mind, and it was hard to put it all into words. I inhaled a deep breath and tried to calm my rattled nerves. “I told you about my friend, Madeline. She’s the one who set me up on a blind date with Thomas.”

  I went on to recount everything that happened that night—how we’d been eating dinner and Detective Mathews showed up, and when we left early, eight or nine men had been waiting for us in the parking lot. I started to cry, and my entire body trembled as I told him about Mathews showing up again. “He’s the one who ordered the two men to finish me off and get rid of me.”

  “Did he tell them to take you to Stilettos?”

  “I don’t know.” Shotgun gave me that look again, the one where he wanted a definitive answer, but I didn’t have one to give him. I wiped the tears from my face as I snapped, “I’m sorry, but I was pretty freaked out. I mean, think about it. I was hurt and confused. I thought I was about to die. I really wasn’t listening to what they were saying at that point.”

  “Okay, I get it.”

  He ran a hand over his face, then stood as he muttered something under his breath. When he started walking over to the door, I asked, “Wait. You’re leaving?”

  “I have things to take care of.” He opened the door, and as he stepped into the hall, he said, “Eat your dinner.”

  Before I could respond, he closed the door. It was official: the man they called Shotgun was an asshole. He was cold and heartless. He didn’t give a damn that the memories of that night had taken their toll on me, and I was a crying, blubbering mess. He only cared about getting the answers he needed, so why was I feeling so disappointed that he was gone? Damn. That concussion was worse than I thought.

  Shotgun

  My day wasn’t going the way I had planned. In fact, it had all gone to fucking hell. First, Remington had asked me to wash her fucking hair. I didn’t do that kind of shit for anybody—ever. What was going through my head when I agreed to do it? That was just it. I wasn’t thinking. I’d let my guard down, and I didn’t like it—not one fucking bit. To make matters worse, Menace had been able to track down Drake and Alfonzo, but they were holed up in some funeral home with too many damn people around for us to get our hands on them. Hell, we’d waited around for over two hours, and they were still in the building.

  Even though I was ready to get my hands on the motherfuckers and find out what they knew, we’d decided to hold off and try again later. I was pissed by the whole fucking thing and had ended up taking it all out on Remington. I was too inside my head to think about how hard it might’ve been for her to remember what had happened. I just wanted the facts—plain and simple. Even when I went to Viper and shared everything I’d learned from our conversation, I still didn’t think about it. I was so wound up over what she’d told me and what we’d be doing about it that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind—until I left Viper’s office and headed to my room.

  It was well after eleven when I walked by Remington’s room. I was tired and eager to get to my room, but a muffled whimper had me stopping dead in my tracks. I thought I was just hearing things, but when I stepped closer to her door, I heard it again—only much louder this time. My chest tightened after realizing that Remington was crying. Riddled with guilt, I stood at the door for several minutes listening to the gut-wrenching sounds of her sobbing. The demons in my head roared for me to leave her be and go on about my way, but there was something buried deep inside that had me reaching for the doorknob. Before I’d even realized what I was doing, I opened the door and stepped inside. Remington was on the bed with her head buried in a pillow.

  She was so distraught she hadn’t even noticed I’d come in the room until I stepped over to the edge of the bed and whispered, “Remington?”

  Without moving, she asked, “What?”

  “You okay?”

  “No.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  Remington slowly lifted her head and looked up at me with tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes were red and even more swollen than they were earlier, and her nose sounded stuffy as she answered, “You can let me call my mom.”

  “Remington, you know I can’t.”

  “Well, you asked what you could do, and I answered.” She sat up with a pained grimace. “I feel horrible. I hurt all over, and I can’t stop thinking about what they did to me. I just want to hear her voice. Even if it’s just for a minute. I just miss her, and my dad too. I should be able to talk to them and tell them I’m okay.”

  “That’s not an option.”

  “Please.” Her begging tone tugged at me in a way I couldn’t explain. I found myself wanting to give in, which was something that never happened—not with me. “They won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

  “As much as I’d like to believe that, we can’t take a chance.”

  “This isn’t fair.” The waterworks started up again. “I feel so alone. I can’t take much more of this.”

  “I get that.” I wasn’t one of those feely types who knew how to handle moments like this. I closed that part of myself off a long time ago, but something about her made me want to try. I knelt down next to her. “I know it isn’t easy, but for right now, we gotta stay quiet about this. It’s the only way I can keep you safe.”

  “I just don’t get it.” Her eyes met mine. “I didn’t do anything to deserve all this.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Then, why is this happening to me?”

  “I can’t answer that, Remington.” I shrugged. “Shit happens, and sometimes there’s not a damn thing we can do about it.”

  “So, what happens now? I’m just stuck here, hiding away while my parents and friends are out there thinking I’m dead?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Damn. Just my luck.” She shook her head and sighed. “I knew going on a blind date was a bad idea.”

  “No way you could’ve known this would happen.”

  “Maybe not, but I should’ve never let Madeline talk me into going. She was just so adamant about it. It’s not her fault. She had no way of knowing that Thomas would be involved in all this. I don’t think he even knew. Poor guy seemed just as shocked as I was when those men showed up.”

  “I’m sure he was.” I stood up, then sat down on the edge of the bed. “So, why did Madeline think you needed to be set up on a blind date in the first place? I’d figure a girl like you could get any guy you want.”

  “What do you mean...a girl like me?” She pointed at the bruises on her face. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know enough.”

  “I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but I can tell you this. It’ll be a long time before I even think about going on another date. Actually, after all this, I might just give it up altogether.”

  “Hmm...I didn’t take you as the quittin’ type.”

  “Oh, really? And what type do you think I am?”

  “You gotta have some fight in ya, ’cause there’re not many people who could’ve gone through what you did and live to tell about it.” I shrugged with indifference. “But I’m not one
to talk. Don’t do the whole dating thing either.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “I’ve got my reasons.” We were starting to delve into a conversation I didn’t intend on having, so I stood up and stepped away from the bedside. “You gonna be all right?”

  “Don’t really have a choice in the matter, but yes, I’ll be fine.”

  “Good.” As I made my way to the door, I told her, “I’ll be across the hall if you need anything.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Shotgun.”

  I nodded, then walked out of the room and closed the door behind me. As I entered my room and started to take off my clothes, it hit me. That short conversation I’d just had with Remington was the most I’d talked to a woman in years. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I was too tired to think about it, so I blew it off as a job that needed to be done. Remington was upset, and I simply did what I could to set her mind at ease. I had too many other things on my mind to dwell on it, so I dropped down on the bed and let my exhaustion take over. It felt like I’d just closed my eyes when I heard someone pounding on my door. “Shotgun!”

  “Yeah?”

  I was still rubbing the sleep from my eyes when Axel shouted, “We got trouble!”

  “Fuck.” I threw on my jeans and rushed over to open the door. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Viper’s waiting for you in his office. He’ll explain everything.”

  On my way out the door, I grabbed a t-shirt, then followed Axel down the hall. When we got down to Viper’s office, Hawk and Menace were already there waiting on us. Viper was sitting behind his desk, and it was clear from his expression that he was fucking pissed. As soon as he saw we were all there, he announced, “I just got a call from Tate Morgan. He’s one of the cops who came to the strip club the other night. He just got wind to the fact some detective is working on getting a warrant to search the strip club and the clubhouse.”

  “How much time do we have?”

  “Can’t say for sure. A couple of hours at best.”

  “Fuck!” Anger marked Hawk’s face as he asked, “This got something to do with the girl?”

  “Apparently, so.” Viper grumbled curses under his breath. “Cops are trying to make some connection to her disappearance and the anonymous tip that was called in about a woman being tossed at Stilettos.”