Gin's Longing

by Joy Blood

  “Got silencers?” Rock asks. I shake my head and he hands one over. I quickly pull my gun out and screw the silencer in place before tucking it back into my jeans.

  The walk is short, the house only two blocks away, and we come to the car Reek had placed Brand in. “That’s the car parked out front,” Rock says before clipping out orders. “Gin, you stick with me. Sage goes to the back. Jake, hang back, keep a lookout. Don’t want the shit going down like it did when we hit that trailer park,” Rock says, and I follow him into the house, leaving behind the boys who split up to go their separate ways.

  Shit isn’t sitting right with me. Too fucking easy to have the car sitting right out front. Might as well be wrapped up with a big red bow. I keep my guard up as I follow Rock. He nods toward the front door, and we both get in position. When it doesn’t open, Rock lines up his gun, silencer firmly in place, and pulls the trigger, effectively disabling the lock for us to walk in.

  Room by room, that feeling grows as we turn up with nothing. Not a fucking thing. “Get the feeling we just bent right the fuck over, Pres?” He doesn’t get a chance to answer before vibrating from my fucking phone rolls through my pocket. The caller is unknown, but I can guess who the hell it is. Answering it, I don’t speak as I put it on speaker for Rock to hear.

  “It’s like looking for a needle in a hay stack, isn’t it?” Brand’s voice makes my teeth grind together and I nearly lose my shit.

  “Where’s the kid, asshole?” He lets out a long cocky laugh, like this fucking game amuses him.

  “You are about three houses too far. You walked right past me and didn’t even notice.” He chuckles some more. “You Riders and your pussy blinders. So pathetic.”

  “You motherfucker. If touch one hair—”

  “You’ll what? Do nothing? Backtrack a block. I’ll be waiting.” Brand ends the call and I nearly throw my phone across the room.

  “He’s got Grace. Has to,” I growl and start for the door, but Rock stops me.

  “Calm the fuck down, brother. Going in there guns blazin’ ain’t going to help shit. Dial it back.” Rock takes point again as I follow, trying to keep a lid on my anger.

  The house Brand claims to be in sits as quiet as the rest of the block. The truck is still a ways off for me to tell if Grace is inside, but I know in my gut he’s got her already.

  Like an invitation, the doorknob turns easy and the door swings open with a slight screech as Rock starts inside, me right behind him. Like the decoy house, Jake hangs back and Sage and Ringer head to the back. The floorboards groan under our weight as we move farther inside to find my gut was right.

  Brand is sitting on a lone couch in what looks like the living room with a single lamp turned on, the only source of light in the house. And there she is. Straddling his legs facing toward us is Grace. “I’m so sorry, Gin.” Her voice cracks on a whisper, making my vision blur.

  “Quiet, sweetheart,” Brand purrs into her ear. His hand trails along her waist, rubbing back and forth, but that isn’t the hand I’m focused on. The hand that has my attention is the one holding a knife firmly pressed against her neck. “You should know better than to leave a woman like this behind. Never know who might scoop her up. Imagine my luck when I see you dipshits roll up into town, just like I knew you would. Then you just leave her there in the truck for me to take.” He snaps the fingers on his wandering hand. “Just like that. Hell, you should have put a big pink bow around her neck.”

  “You fucking prick...”

  “How about you lower your gun, Gin? You can tell the asshole behind me to do the same, or I’ll stick this knife into her jugular,” he threatens, showing off his wide grin.

  “The fuck made you turn on your brothers, Brand?” That question earns a chuckle from him, his hand shaking with the motion. The knife makes small cuts, drawing tiny drops of blood from her skin.

  “What made me? Nothing made me do shit. You remember someone by the name of Herk?” Brand asks, and my blood cools.

  “Traitorous bastard like yourself. Yeah, I remember him. Remember cutting his balls off for turning on his club,” I growl, provoking him further. Herk was another one of the dipshits who turned on his club for Avil Cantrell.

  “He was my brother! My last fucking blood relative. He joined your club and I didn’t hear from him again. So, I decided to join. Then I found out what you fucking did to him…” He pauses when Grace lets out a whimper. “Hush now, I’m telling a story,” he says, kissing her on the cheek. I want to rip his tongue out. “You ever wonder why you were left alive?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. “Avil might have been giving the orders, but I was running things. Brought them to the gate and walked right in. Damn, that woman of yours…” he groans for effect, and I jolt forward, but Rock holds me back.

  “Get the fuck on with it, you rat prick. That’s enough fucking games!” I shout, and he only laughs harder.

  “You became my little toy. My puppet on a string. Damn, you were a fucking mess. Then you went and had to involve her. You hear that, princess, your involvement is all his fault.” The tears roll from her eyes and down the soft skin of her cheeks, mixing with her blood when they reach her neck. “You tell him about our night together?” Her eyes lock on mine and I realize just then how big of an asshole I’ve been. He leans in to lick the side of her face, and she recoils, causing more blood to spill.

  “You motherfucker!” I bellow, and he presses the knife farther into her delicate flesh.

  “Slow down there. Would hate to get covered in her blood already. I still haven’t told you the story about how I found this pretty little girl partying with some of her friends at a bar I knew she wasn’t old enough to be in. It sure as hell wasn’t hard to give her a spiked drink and watch her pass out.

  “It was even easier to strap her down to my hotel bed and...” His knife-wielding hand falters just the slightest, and Grace takes this as her chance. She surges upward, the top of her head slamming into Brand’s chin, making him lose his grip on her and fall back onto the couch. She doesn’t get far before he pulls out a gun and fires, missing her only by inches. That’s when I start firing bullets, each one hitting him with a plink, plink sound coming from the silencer. Blood sprays the couch as Brand’s body goes limp.

  “Grace!” I call out as her body slumps to the floor, then rolls to get farther away from the couch. I advance on her, gripping her shoulder in my hands, and turn her until she’s on her back. “You good, babe?” I search her face for answers. Her throat is covered in blood and we are too far away from the dim lamp for me to tell how deep the cut is. “You gotta use some words. Talk to me, Grace.” My hands roam her body, seeking out any other possible injuries.

  “I’m...I’m f-f-f-fine,” she spouts, her words soft and unsure. “Tay. Wh-Where’s Tay?” she asks, trying to pull herself up. I help her to a sitting position and take the bandana from my head to stop the bleeding around her throat.

  “The boys are looking for her. Have you seen her at all since you’ve been here?” She shakes her head, then reaches up to feel the cut on her delicate skin. “Leave it be, babe. This should keep some pressure on it.” I pull her hand away from the blind assessment of her wound, then help her to her feet.

  “G!” Sage calls out from farther in the house. I look away from Grace to see him walking down the narrow hallway carrying a small limp body. Before I can stop her, Grace spins around to see exactly what I’m seeing.

  “Tay!” she shouts, rushing to her little girl. Her small body in the arms of Sage’s large tattooed arms makes her look even smaller. He has her cradled to his chest, but her limp arms give me pause. Please be alive.

  “Think he drugged her. She’s got a steady pulse and I don’t see any injuries. She should be fine,” he tells Grace as she pulls her daughter’s body into her arms. I want to take the kid away from her, carry her so Grace doesn’t have to, but I think she needs to feel Tanya close right now, so I let it be.

  “Let’s get the
fuck out of dodge before someone tips off the cops. That gunshot probably woke someone,” Rock says, gesturing to the front door.

  Thirty-Four

  Grace

  I hold my baby girl close to me, as tight as I possibly can, while we make our way back to the truck I was taken from not an hour ago. I feel so stupid. I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around me, but I was actually listening to Gin’s instruction and staying put. I was staring off into space when a figure appeared right in my line of vision. When I focused in, I realized quickly it was the barrel of a gun pointed directly at my face from the other side of the window—my window—and the hand holding the gun belonged to Brand. My whole body froze at the sight of him, and I was brought back to the morning I woke up in a strange hotel room.

  My head pounds, and when I try to open my eyes, it hurts even more. Moving isn’t an option either. When I roll to my side, I feel sick to my stomach. The nausea intensifies and I’m forced to crack open my lids. The room I’m in spins, and I expel the contents of my stomach right onto the floor. When my heaving dissipates, I roll away from the edge of the bed and return to my back, staring up at the ceiling. Where am I? My eyes try to look around, but the pain in my temple has doubled, so I close them and wait to feel normal again.

  The last thing I remember is dancing with Denise and a couple other girls who got us into the club. Did I meet someone? Oh god, did I hook up with someone? I shift in the bed, and that’s when I feel it, the tenderness of my muscles and soreness…there. Tears well up under my closed eyelids and it’s all I can do not to burst into sobs from the realization that I lost my virginity to someone I can’t even remember—not only who, but it happening at all. Then something else comes into my mind. Before I can panic any further, a door opens, then footsteps enter the room.

  I’m instantly cold and rooted to my spot on the bed, unable to open my eyes and see who just walked in. My hands are clammy and my heart rate picks up to an alarming rate. “Looks like someone had an accident,” a man I’ve never heard says, coming closer to the bed. “I know you’re awake,” he says. I feel the bed shift and my eyes instantly fly open. “Ah. There you are. Thought I was going to have to wake you myself. You have been out for hours,” he tells me, picking up his hand to run a finger down my cheek. On instinct, I flinch away from his touch. Just by looking at his face, I know I’m not here of my own free will.

  “Who—?” I try, but he stops me.

  “Who am I? Oh, sweetheart, we shared such a wonderful moment last night. It hurts you don’t remember. I’m Brand.” His smile grows wide, showing off perfectly straight white teeth and a dimpled chin. The dark, thick hair on his head falls forward and he takes a second to push it back before continuing. “Though, now that you’re awake and a little more alert, we should revisit. Don’t you think?” I start shaking my head, but he rises from the bed, going over to a small table. The room is dim, but I can see enough. He turns back with a length of rope in his hands, and I panic. My body bolts from the bed, but he’s too fast. I’m launched through the air and back onto the bed with a bounce that jars my neck and makes my headache intensify. “Feisty. I think that will make it a little more interesting this time around.”

  I shake away the memory as we get closer to the truck. I tried so hard to fight him off, but gave up from the exhaustion. Whatever drug he had given me that night had terrible side effects. He tied me down to the bed and there I stayed for the remainder of the day until I passed out. When I woke up again, I was untied and he was gone. I ran out of there so fast, I probably couldn’t even find the hotel again. I was so disoriented and scared. When I got back to my dorm room, I showered and curled up into my bed, forcing myself to forget all about what had happened. It was over and done with. I never saw the man again. Until tonight.

  “Babe, let me take her from you so you can get in the truck,” Gin offers, but I shake my head.

  “No. I can’t. I can’t let her go.” He nods in understanding and opens the door to help us both into the back. “Thank you,” I whisper, and get settled into the backseat as best I can without letting her go. I don’t want to lose the feeling of her in my arms.

  We wait only minutes before the rumble of motorcycles fills the silence. The front door opens, and Gin gets behind the wheel. “Should be at the clubhouse in about two hours. Get some sleep,” he tells me before we start to move, and I do just that. Sleep.

  * * *

  Floating. I’m floating through the air. Being lifted and held in someone’s arms. Strong, comforting arms. Motor oil and cigarette smoke fill my senses and I clutch onto the hard chest I find myself pressed against. Then, I remember why I’m with Gin. “Tay,” I say, trying to free myself from his arms.

  “Already got her inside. Got someone checking her out. Hold still.” His voice is soft but hard at the same time, adamant for me to listen. He clutches me closer, so I try to relax on the way inside. I keep my eyes closed the whole way, but I can tell where we are as we go through the clubhouse. Through the bar, then the door that brings us to the hallway. Gin’s steps hit the floor with a thud, thud with each step he takes until we stop. He shifts me slightly to open another door, then we go inside. His room. “Here she is.” I think he’s talking about me, but when I open my eyes, I see a woman walking my way. She’s tall and slender with a long blonde braid draped over her shoulder. Sharp cheekbones and almond shaped eyes. She is stunning.

  “Good. Set her on the bed with her daughter. I’ll check her out,” she says, and Gin does. I look down at the bed to see my little girl curled up in the covers of Gin’s narrow bed. “I think she was given a heavy dose of sleeping pills. I can’t be for certain what kind, but her vitals are good. She just needs to sleep it off,” the woman says, coming to my side. “I need to check your wound. I’m Leia, by the way.”

  “Grace,” I say. She smiles in response and goes about her task, taking off the makeshift bandage.

  “This doesn’t look too bad. I think I’m going to just use some glue. Let me get you cleaned up first.” She leaves my side to grab her supplies, but keeps talking. “You are going to want to keep it as clean as possible and try not to cough or sneeze too hard. Maybe keep vigorous activity to a minimum too until it gets a good shield over it so it doesn’t tear.” She flicks her gaze to Gin as if to say, “that goes for you too.” A look passes between them that I choose not to acknowledge right now. I have more important things to worry about and Gin’s love life isn’t one of them.

  Thirty-Five

  Grace

  “When can we go home?” I finally muster up enough courage to ask the one question that has been plaguing my mind for the last three days. He only gives my question a blank stare. “I mean. The threat is gone now, right? Brand is dead. Tanya and I can go home.”

  “You want to?” We’ve been staying at the clubhouse in the same room I was in before, and things are a little...cramped.

  “Well, we can’t stay here. I have a house, bills to pay. I need to get a job.”

  “You can get one here. I’m sure the girls could use help at the store.”

  “No, Gin. Tanya and I need to go home. I’m sorry but...we just need to go home. You can—”

  “Can what? Visit?” He lets out a forced laugh, his face instantly changing “You’re free to go, babe. You ain’t a prisoner here. Come and go as you please. No need to ask me for permission.” He waves his hand at the door as if showing me the way out.

  “Gin.”

  “It’s fine, babe. It’s not like this was a happily ever after, right? Just a fuck, some fun while you needed my help. That’s all. Don’t owe me shit,” he says, rising to his feet. And just like that, he’s back to the closed-off Gin who pushes me away. I get whiplash from the man. One minute he’s telling me I belong to him, and the next, he acts as if I’m noting more than a warm body. I know by now it’s his form of defense, but wow.

  “Kimi said she would bring us,” I say, and he snaps his gaze to me, pulling him away from
getting dressed, his jeans midway up his thick legs as he looks at me. He finishes pulling them the rest of the way up, keeping quiet all the while, then reaches for a bandana to tie over his head.

  “Guess you got it all figured out then. Well, I won’t hold ya back.” His voice doesn’t waver once as he nods, then walks out the door, leaving me completely naked in the bed we shared for just a few short days, clutching the sheet to my chest. I don’t know what I want with Gin, but I know I can’t keep my little girl here at the clubhouse and live in this room. We have a life to get back to.

  * * *

  “Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay a little longer?” Kimi asks as we get settled into her SUV. “We can make up a room for you two,” she tries once again.

  “No. I need to go home. We have a life there.” Not much of a life, but living in a clubhouse with a four-year-old isn’t going to be our life either. Either way, we have a house full of our belongings to tend to while I decide what happens next in our lives.

  “Well, just so you know, you and that little girl are always welcome to come stay with us,” she informs me for the millionth time, to which I only respond with a smile. I didn’t see Gin as I packed up what little Tanya and I had, then waited for Kimi to be ready to take the both of us home. It’s a near five-hour drive and convincing Jake took a while, but she won in the end after promising to go five miles under the speed limit. Which she is not sticking to at the moment. I laugh a little to myself when I see that, knowing her quiet husband would have a lot to say about her speed. He seems to be such a fierce man, and with the long scar on his neck, he looks menacing. Underneath that, though, I could see the way he looked at her, like she’s his whole universe—the very thing that made him get up each day and face the world head on.