by Debra Kayn
She lifted the lid, and it slipped from her fingers. She flinched. The clink seemed to echo all around her.
If Cal caught her, he'd hurt her. His behavior swung wildly from violent to indulging—both scared her.
Breathing hard, she slowly lifted the lid again, and when the hinge extended all the way and stayed open, relief flooded her. The pistol was inside.
Using both hands, she carefully picked it up by the handle and stood. She looked down the hallway for Cal, and when she declared the area clear, she hurried back to the seat. She needed to get the keys for the door.
With a weapon, she felt more confident that she could force him to let her go.
As soon as her butt landed on the chair, a loud rumble filled the room. She looked over her shoulder, expecting Cal when it dawned on her that the roar came from outside.
All her muscles tensed, and hope consumed her. She recognized that sound—that beautiful sound of a motorcycle.
Could it be one of the Tarkio members? Elliot lived close-by.
Taking a chance, because it might be her only one, she rushed to the door. Adrenaline filled her at the sight of not one but several bikers. She jumped up and down, waving her bound hands above her head, trying to get their attention.
A familiar shaved head and the glint of reflection off sunglasses had her crying in relief.
Curley rode a circle in the empty parking lot, followed by Priest and Whip. When he turned and seemed to be leaving, she cried out. His name only a muffled yell behind the tape wrapped over her mouth.
She moved to claw at the binding around her head, but she couldn't rip the tape using only one hand, and she wasn't going to set the gun down. Curley kept going away from the lounge. She banged the butt of the weapon against the glass, knowing Cal would be able to hear her.
Her chance at getting help dwindled when Curley kept riding away. She cried out for Curley, needing him more now than any other time in her life. What if she never got to see him again? Speak to him? Touch him?
He'd never know how much she could love him. She had so many things she wanted to say and do and experience with him. They had wasted time to make up for. A life to build together.
Curley rode out of sight. She cried out in anguish. Her wail, stripped her of all her strength.
He would never know how sorry she was for getting in Cal's car. He would never know this was not how she wanted them to end.
He would never know he was everything to her. The one person in her life who stayed and hadn't left her.
An arm circled her neck, dragging her backward. Facing Cal was not as scary as losing Curley, she writhed and pitched her body in all directions, trying to get away.
Cal tossed her to the side. She fell against her shoulder. The pistol toppled out of her hand. Against the blinding pain, she scrambled to grab the gun.
Her size and age compared to Cal's heavy body worked to her advantage, she wrapped her fingers around the butt and lifted her arms, pointing the gun, and shouted, "Stop."
The guttural sound that came through the tape stopped her former boss. He frowned as if not believing she held a weapon on him.
Screaming at him, hoping he understood how she'd lost her patience and she was pissed, she waved the barrel of the pistol at him, making him move. She stepped forward, pushing him back to the booth with the power of knowing she'd shoot him if he dared try to stop her, and demanded him to sit.
The dress he'd forced on her drooped off her shoulder. Ignoring the clothing, she sucked air through her nose, feeling lightheaded as if she needed more air.
One thing stood between her and Curley, and she had no qualms about pulling the trigger to make sure she never lost him.
Cal held up his hands. "Baby, let's talk."
She growled, wishing the tape was off her mouth. Trying again to rip at the binding with one hand, she failed to find the end of the tape. She had to get it off.
The scissors. She needed to find the scissors.
She quickly searched the immediate area. Cal had put them somewhere when he'd cut off her clothes.
Not finding them, she assumed he'd taken them to the kitchen. If not, she'd find something there to cut the tape off her. A knife or something sharp. Then she'd leave out the back door. She only needed to run a couple of blocks before she reached the residential area and could knock on someone's door, asking for help.
She motioned for Cal to get up. Thankful when he understood, she motioned with the gun for him to walk. Staying behind him, out of arm's length of him, she forced him down the hallway. She grunted at the doorway to the kitchen. He looked behind him, and she pointed.
Cal stepped into the kitchen. Once he was clear of the door, she hurried around him, putting herself between him and the back door.
The slight exertion stole her breath. She wasn't going to be able to run with the tape on her, but she had to give it a try. The longer it took, Curley would get farther and farther away from her. He could be headed back to Missoula already.
"Put the gun down." Cal raised his palms to her. "I'll take the tape off you, and we can talk."
She shook her head. He wasn't getting another chance to touch her.
Taking a step back, she glanced at the back door. Positive Cal had locked it when he brought her here, she tried to remember if it required a key or if there was a lever. When she'd worked here, there was always someone here who'd opened up the building before she'd arrived.
"Let's start over, Celia." Cal's forehead wrinkled, making his face flush. "I'll get down on my knees and beg you."
He held on to the counter and lowered himself to the floor. Spotting her moment, she rushed to the back door, trying the handle, turning the lever, pushing against the metal surface.
No. No. No. The strength left her, and she turned to find another way out when an explosion of broken glass came from the other side of the building. Startled, she froze.
Cal grabbed her legs. She tumbled to the floor. The back of her head hit a box. Groaning, she tried to sit up, and Cal crawled over the top half of her body. Bucking against his heavier weight, she struggled to get away.
He pulled her arm, trying to gain possession of the pistol. A burst of energy filled her, and she strained.
Her finger pulled back the trigger.
Bang.
Cal fell on top of her. Bright lights filled her dark vision. She pushed against his large, lax body. Worming her way out from under him, she spotted the blood where his face should be.
Her ears rang, deafening her to everything. She dropped her gaze to Cal's upper body. There was no movement.
The tape across her mouth vibrated. She dropped the weapon and clawed at the tape with both hands. Needing to get away, she cried out as her fingernails bent backward, barring her progress.
Hands scooped her under the armpits. Flaying her bond arms, a scream filled her head as her body was lifted.
Chapter 37
Curley
Curley went to his knees, wrapping his arms around Faye, holding her tight against his chest, not letting her hurt herself. He couldn't tell if all the blood belonged to Cal or came from her.
"I'm here." He pressed his lips against her temple. "I've got you."
Wearing herself out, her struggles slowed, but the muffled cries continued. He looked over his shoulder at Priest. "Cut the damn tape off her mouth. She needs to breathe."
Priest stepped around them and leaned over Faye, brandishing a knife. Faye's struggles increased, and Curley lifted a hand to her forehead, holding her still.
"Careful." He closed his eyes, unable to watch the sharp blade against her soft skin.
"It's going to hurt like a son of a bitch, pulling the tape out of her hair," said Whip behind Curley.
He opened his eyes at the scream that erupted from Faye.
"She's okay." Priest glanced at him. "Hold her another minute. Let me get the Duct tape off her cheeks."
He held her tighter. "Shh. You're going to be okay. I'l
l make sure of that, Faye. I'm not going to ever let you out of my sight again. I'm going to take you home where you're safe. Just you and me, Faye. Nobody but me will ever touch you again."
"Done. We can cut the tape from the back of her hair once she realizes what's going on." Priest shielded the knife and stepped back. "Take her to the other room and away from the body."
"I'll get some water for her." Whip stepped in front of Curley and picked up a pistol beside Faye. "Nice piece."
"Make sure you take that with you," said Priest.
Letting go of Faye's head, Curley got his feet underneath him and lifted her up. She put up no fight, and her screams had stopped. He'd seen enough men go into shock, he knew now wasn't the time to do anything but assure her she wasn't alone and wait for reality to hit.
Hell, he'd suffered through each of his crimes, and the fact was, he hadn't remembered the devastating feelings overwhelming him at the time. His mind had protected him, numbed him until business was finished.
It was living with what he'd done that tormented him daily.
He wouldn't wish that level of torment on Faye and would do everything possible to protect her from ever experiencing that pain.
Approaching a booth in the middle of the lounge, he kicked the table to one side and sat down with her, holding her on his lap. She leaned against his chest, despondent.
Whip arrived with a glass of water and squatted in front of her. "Hey, brat. Drink some water."
Faye reached for the glass. Whip glanced at him and nodded in understanding. She was starting to listen, if not understanding what was going on around her. He needed to act fast.
"Priest?" he asked.
"Using the satellite phone to call for cleanup." Whip patted Faye's knee. "The lounge is usually open. It's to our advantage that no one is here."
"He closed for the day," mumbled Faye. "He told me Stephanie's mom and son were hurt in an accident. She needed me, but it wasn't true. It wasn't true."
Priest came in the room, sought out Curley, and stood behind him, whispering in his ear. "A crew is coming. We'll need to get her out of here. Frank is going to hotwire her car and bring it over. You can take her home, and Frank will ride your Harley back."
"Yeah, that'll work." He smoothed Faye's hair back from her face, being careful of the tape tangled in the strands.
"He believed I was Celia," whispered Faye. "He put her dress on me. He was going to..."
"Shh." Until then, he hadn't paid attention to what Faye was wearing. His concern was on her safety. He pulled up the sleeve, covering her bared breast.
"I'll get you home soon, and you can change." He pressed his lips to her temple.
"Curley?" Faye's head landed on his chest. "He was mental."
"No, Faye." His chest tightened. "He stopped being mental when he kidnapped my old lady."
"I-I killed him."
"No." He held her tighter. "I shot him."
"I pulled the trigger," she mumbled.
"I put the bullet in him, Faye. It was me." He looked at Priest, then he turned to Whip. "It was me."
The others nodded, going with the information. Faye would never know that she murdered Cal Williams. He'd protect her from that truth.
Whip slowly approached Faye again, lifted her hand, and forced her to drink from the glass. Faye would have Tarkio members surrounding her in the days to come and have all the support she needed. He'd make sure of that.
Forty minutes later, the clean-up crew arrived. He estimated Frank to arrive in fifteen minutes. Slowed by driving a car, he'd need to keep to the speed limit.
Rick took one look at Faye and walked out of the lounge, only to return with a handful of clothes. Looking at Curley, he said, "Tracy's."
That's all he needed to know. His MC brother understood the need to get Faye out of the bloodied dress and got Tracy's extra set of clothes from the duffle on the back of his Harley. He was thankful for the help.
Standing Faye up, he whispered in her ear. "Put these clothes on. They belong to Tracy."
Faye moved quickly, not arguing. He stood in front of her, sheltering her from the eyes of the others. Though she wasn't aware of everyone in the room. She only wanted to get the dress off.
Once she was covered with clean clothes, he walked her outside. Priest followed. A crime had been committed here, and the whole place would need to be swept for any clues of Cal getting shot before they dispose of the body.
"Uh, Curley?" Priest put a hand on his shoulder. "There's stuff upstairs."
He held Faye to his chest and covered the side of her face and her ear with his hand. The less she knew, the easier it would be on her.
"What kind of stuff?" he asked.
"Pictures." Priest's gaze flickered to Faye. "A lot of pictures. He'd planned this for a long time. There's also a Polaroid of the greenhouse fire. We found her in time, brother."
He looked away, trying to get control. If Cal wasn't dead, he'd kill him again.
"Get rid of them," he said. "Don't give anyone a reason to link this to us."
Priest nodded. "Take your woman home."
"Call me when it's done." He walked Faye toward the parking lot.
Frank pulled in. Glad to get Faye out of here, he put her in the car while Frank walked to Curley's Harley, planning to follow them home.
He was halfway to Missoula when Faye broke the silence. "You came back."
"I'd never leave you."
She stared straight ahead. "Promise?"
His grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Promise."
Chapter 38
Faye
Four days after Curley killed Cal Williams, Faye sat in the backyard, on the deck swing, wrapped in a blanket. She held Curley's hand against her stomach, not knowing how to explain to him that she had no idea how she would go on with her life.
How would she go back to work, pretending that she got caught in someone else's sick nightmare or how she was responsible for Cal's death? Even though Curley had shot him to protect her, it could have easily been the bullet from the pistol she'd taken.
She'd pulled the trigger.
Everything had happened faster than her mind could accept. Even now, days later, it all seemed like something that had happened to someone else, not her.
"I don't know what is wrong with me." She sighed heavily. "I swear, I'm okay. You don't have to hang around the house with me if you have somewhere else you'd rather be, or the club needs you. I'll be fine."
"I know you're fine." He squeezed her hand. "I want to be here."
"What about Promise?"
"What about it?"
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "You hired me to work, and I've been moping around the house for four days."
"The job can wait."
She rubbed her cheek against him. "I'm sorry for being so much trouble."
He kissed the top of her head. This was the most they'd talked since before he'd left to go on a run with Tarkio. She had a lot to say and ask but had no desire to hear the answers.
"It's like I have so many feelings inside of me that want to come out when I thought I would never see you again, and I watched you ride away from the lounge. At that moment, everything was crystal clear in my mind. I wanted nothing more than to tell you everything. Now, I don't know...I can't find the words." She lifted her head and looked at him. "I don't think you have a clue how much I love you."
Curley looked out at the field. She'd probably upset him. They promised to be open and honest when he finally decided to honor their relationship, and she was letting him down.
"I know," he murmured.
"Do you?"
"I felt it when I sobered up long enough to realize my cock was inside you, and I'd fucked a seventeen-year-old. I could see what it meant to you. It made me angry that I would ruin you before your life had even started." Behind his beard, his Adam's apple moved.
"I was almost eighteen."
"It doesn't matter," he said gruffly.
&n
bsp; "You do know that girls can get married at sixteen years of age in Montana, don't you? I wasn't jail bait. I was never like other girls my age. My life...I grew up fast. I lost everyone and started over with Grandma June, but I was taking care of her by the time I hit high school." She brought his hand up and kissed his knuckles. "My feelings for you were grown up and mature, even if my choices were made on emotions."
He rubbed his lips together and continued gazing away from her. She rolled his ring around on his finger.
"I regret so much with you." Her chest fluttered, hoping for relief. "I'm sad about all the years we've wasted. I wish I could've told you how I was feeling, and—"
"Don't."
She snapped her head up, confused about why he wouldn't want to hear what she had to say.
He pulled his hand away from her and stood, walking out into the field. She stayed on the bench swing as he lit a cigarette and kept his back to her. Walking away when she needed him was such an old Curley thing to do. She thought they were past that.
He'd been the perfect man to her the last several days. Holding her as nightmares ruined her sleep. Making sure she ate and kept hydrated. He excused her from working at Promise and even stayed home with her, letting Tarkio members run the bar.
Most of all, he'd ignored club business for her.
She understood what the bikers meant to him. What wearing the patch meant to him. She'd seen the same loyalty toward Tarkio Motorcycle Club in Uncle Walker.
Shrugging out of the blanket, she walked barefoot toward Curley. Not wanting to pressure him to talk when he closed himself off but wanting to be there for him the way he'd been here for her, she wrapped her arms around him from behind.
She pressed her cheek against his back. His body remained stiff and unbendable. She needed to move on with her life, not only for her sake but for his. What happened with Cal should never have happened. She would never know why Cal went off the deep-end, but looking back, there were warning signs.
Even Angela, Stephanie, and Jenna had noticed Cal's changes toward her and were worried. She'd thought the best thing to do was quit working at the lounge, and that would be enough to stop his infatuation with her. But it hadn't been enough.
