by Cathryn Cade
No, they definitely weren't a weekend riding club. "There's a motorcycle club, or gang, in the Tri-Cities," she said. "The Prairie Rattlers."
Streak did not spit on the floor, but he looked as if he wanted to. His lip curled, and suddenly he no longer looked so young or friendly. "Not any more, there ain't. They're gone, scattered. And I hope you don't think we're anything like them, 'cause we're not."
She shook her head, clutching the blanket more tightly. "Uh, no. No, I didn't mean that." Well, she sort of had, but so far this guy had been nothing but nice, so she didn't want to insult him, or his and T-Bear's club.
"Okay, that's fine then." He relaxed. "I can see where you'd get a real bad opinion of bikers, if the Rattlers are the only ones you've been around. Bunch of low-life pimps, thieves and drug-pushers. They'd f-screw over their own mamas for money."
Manda wrinkled her nose. "Right. That's pretty much what I heard. Until their headquarters blew up this last summer."
He grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Yep. Their old club house went sky high."
She would have loved to ask him what he knew about that. Because something in that gleeful look said he knew a lot.
She would have bet money—if she had any—that explosion had been some kind of vigilante justice. Maybe meted out by the Devil's Flyers, maybe by another group who didn't like the Prairie Rattlers spreading their evil around central and eastern Washington.
"Well, I'm sure you have things to do," she said. "Don't feel you have to stay here on my account. I'm feeling much better." And she was. Her head didn't feel as if it would fall off with every movement, and the abrasions on her wrists and ankles were healing quickly. They looked gross right now, as her fair skin had not only bruised, but scabbed over. But she could walk just fine. Although she had to do so while holding the stupid hospital gown together in the back.
Her face, she wasn't so thrilled with. She'd been able to shower this morning, so her hair was clean and shiny, and she felt fresh. But looking in the mirror had made her want to cry all over again.
The right side of her face was one big bruise, including a black eye, and her cut lip had a scab that cracked when she tried to eat. Smiling with both sides of her mouth was not happening either, not that she felt like it anyway.
Streak took a step back, and pulled his thumbs from his belt. "I'll get out of your hair, then. Not goin' anywhere, though. I'll be right outside till T gets back. You need anything, holler."
With a lift of his chin, he disappeared beyond the curtain, leaving Manda with her mouth open in shock. He was here to to watch over her. To guard her, essentially. That was... sweet, and scary at the same time. What did they think, that Rezan Faro would try to sneak in here and drag her out to hurt her again?
She shivered, suddenly cold despite her layers of blankets. She remembered all too well the swing of his hand, the pain of being slapped across the face like that. And the way he'd repeated the action, as if he liked doing it. As if she was a piece of meat to him, a possession to be beaten into obedience.
And he'd seemed so nice at first.
Boy, never again was she going to despise girls and young women who fell for the lines fed to them by pimps, and ended up doing whatever degrading thing they were told to do.
Herself, she would've found some way to get away from Rezan, even if it had meant traipsing through the winter woods at night. But a lot of prostitutes were trapped by dependence on drugs, as well as by guards like Jere.
She shivered again. What if her first 'customer' had been someone other than T? She might have been hurt, and more. If she felt ashamed of what had happened between them, because she'd thought it was attraction, but he'd considered it a business transaction, how much worse would her shame be if he'd forced her to do degrading things?
Oh, she wished she could face Rezan and his creepy guard again. This time with T-Bear and Streak and that other man, Rock or whatever his name was, by her side. She'd like to slap Rezan's face a few times, see how he liked that. And as for muscle man, she'd kick him right in the balls, wearing her pointy-toed booties.
However, even these thoughts of violence made her head hurt. She sighed shakily, and then yawned.
Well, at least she wouldn't have to talk anymore for a while. She was worn out, mentally and emotionally. She just wanted to close her eyes and sleep.
At this moment—of course—a knock sounded on her room door, beyond the curtain.
"Manda?" Streak called. "Cops are here again."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
* * *
"Manda? You hear me? The cops are here," Streak repeated. "You okay talkin' to them, or you want me to tell 'em you're not up to it?" Something in his voice said he'd be happy to do so.
"I'll talk to them now," Manda said, even as she clutched her blankets and fought the urge to pull them over head, the way she had with T-Bear.
Because, as much as she wanted to maybe ask for another shot of that magic pain medication and sleep, if she could help take Rezan Faro and Jere down, she should take that opportunity. She might be battered emotionally and physically, but she still knew right from wrong.
When Detective LaRond pushed the curtains back, he had a woman at his side. She smiled at Manda, but she had the same watchful gaze as he.
"Hi, Ms Kowitsky. I'm Officer Harvey. Det. LaRond thought you might be more comfortable with me here. Can you answer some questions for us?"
"Yes," Manda answered. "Of course I can. Rezan Faro used me, and he hurt me. And I want him and his minion behind bars as fast as you can put them there."
Officer Harvey smiled at her, and Det LaRond's grim face eased a little. "He's got a minion, huh? Well, then let's get started."
They both pulled up chairs and asked her how she'd come to be at the Pine Cabins.
Manda told them everything—almost. She told them about Tim bringing her to Rathdrum, then abandoning her. About Rezan 'befriending' her, and offering to cheer her up by sending her on a date in a new outfit. About T taking her out to dinner.
But, when Det. LaRond asked her, "Ms Kowitsky, did you have sexual relations with John 'T-Bear' Turner?" she stared at him, sheer embarrassment flooding her.
"Um, yes?" she mumbled. Geez, was this humiliating or what? She felt like she was back in junior high, being interrogated by the school counselor about what had gone on at a certain party at Joey Burnosky's house. That time, Manda had let Chad Stills put his tongue in her mouth, and his hand under her top. This time she and T-Bear had done a whole lot more.
"You tell me," the detective said, stone-faced.
"Well... yes," she admitted. Her face burned. "I—we did."
"And did Mr. Turner give you money in exchange for that sex?"
When she stared at him again, her heart pounding as if she'd been running, he looked weary. "Let me rephrase. At any time during the course of the evening, did Mr. Turner give you money?"
Sweat broke out under her arms, and behind her knees, and her tummy knotted. Manda was pretty sure that prostitution was illegal in both Washington and Idaho, and she did not want to get T-Bear in trouble, nor did she want to go to jail herself. Because wouldn't that just be the poo frosting on the garbage cake her life had become?
So for the first time in her life, she looked a police officer in the eye and lied. "No. He—he bought me dinner. And two drinks. But we—I... I had sex with him because I liked him. Not because he gave me money." This part at least was true, because she hadn't known he was going to give her money, or that he'd already given some to Rezan.
The detective sighed, and Officer Harvey leaned forward. "Manda, we know that you weren't in that situation of your own free will. You were scared, you had no way out, you had to do what Faro told you. Now, no matter what you tell us, you're not in trouble. Do you understand that?"
Maybe, maybe not. Officer Harvey probably didn't get to decide what happened to Manda.
"T-Bear, I mean John, didn't give me money," she insisted. "I didn't even know then t
hat Rezan wanted me to—to do that for him."
"Then why did Faro hit you?" LaRond asked. "Or did both he and Turner hit you?"
"No!" she cried. "T-Bear never touched me. Not in a bad way, anyway. He was nice to me."
"Then why did Faro hit you?"
She thought fast, bunching the blanket in her hand and rubbing her thumb over the wrinkle.
"Because the next morning, when I saw Rezan, I asked him for a ride to town, so I could start looking for a job. And he told me I couldn't leave, that he'd decided I was going to have to, uh, work for him. I said I was leaving, and he hit me. Then the other guy—Rezan called him Jere, like short for Jerry? He grabbed me and held me while Rezan hit me again.’
‘And Rezan told me that he... he hoped I had fun last night with T-Bear, because I was going to be doing a lot of that from now on, with whoever he said. And I said I wouldn't, and he said he guessed I needed to learn my lesson. Then he told Jere to tie me up and throw me in that nasty little store room, and he did. And Jere said he'd be back later and—and either break my legs, or r-rape me."
Her voice broke, and she lifted her hands to cover her face as hot tears flooded her eyes.
The room was very quiet except for her loud, shuddering breaths as she fought for control. Finally she lowered her hands to find Officer Harvey holding out the small, hospital-supplied box of tissues. Manda took them, and swiped her wet face, carefully because of the bruises.
"And did anyone rape you?" Harvey asked her.
"No," Manda mumbled. "The nurses already asked me that. No one raped me, or did anything, uh, like that. I guess... I guess they didn't have time, because T-Bear came back. I heard him out in the office, talking to Jere. And T-Bear said my name. He has a big voice, you know? So I knew he'd come back looking for me. But how would he know I was really there? Because of course Jere would lie. I had to make noise, somehow. So I kicked the wall. And I kept kicking it and kicking it... hoping T-Bear would be the one to come back there, and not... not Jere or Rezan." Because she'd known what would happen to her then—very bad things.
"Then what happened?"
"Well," she frowned, thinking. "Muscle Jere yelled something like 'Get away, or I'll shoot.' And I did hear gunshots. But then, T-Bear opened the store room and found me."
"And was he carrying a gun?" LaRond asked.
Manda shook her head, then winced, hand to her head. She had to quit doing that. "I don't think so. I don't really know. I was pretty, um, woozy. He untied me, and picked me up. He told me to stay behind him, and we walked out into the office. Then, there was a big crash. And I looked, and Jere had driven his pickup truck right into the front of the office."
She almost shook her head again, before remembering not to. She still couldn't figure out why the dumb-ass would do that, unless he'd thought he could drive right in and hit T and her. Even so, what a waste of a new truck.
"Then what happened?" the detective pressed.
Manda shrugged again. "Again, I just don't know. I...I passed out, and the next thing I knew... I woke up here." And she wished the two of them would go away now. Just this much talking had tired her out, and her head was hurting again. All that remembering was not fun.
"Why do you think you passed out?" LaRond asked. "Did Turner hit you?"
"No! I told you, Rezan hit me, twice. And Jere tied my hands and feet so I couldn't walk, and he shoved me so hard he slammed my head into the wall. The doctors say I have a concussion." She squinted at the detective. "Why do you keep asking me if T-Bear hurt me? He rescued me."
His face hardened. "Because he's a member of a known motorcycle gang, who allegedly participate in a number of activities which are illegal. And people who cross them tend to get beaten up and sometimes disappear."
Manda struggled to take in this information. "It's a club," she said. Wait, where had that come from? She had no reason to care what the police thought of the Devil's Flyers. Just T-Bear, because he was her hero, at least for now. "I mean... they're not as bad as those Prairie Rattlers back in the Tri-Cities, or people like that."
The detective looked like he wanted to grind his teeth. Instead he gave her a flat look. "I really can't make a comparison, Ms Kowitsky. Is there anything else you can tell us that will help us locate Mr Faro, or his associates?"
"No," she said regretfully. "I wish I could help you. Tim's the one who knew him."
"And where do you think we might find this Tim? What'd you say his last name was?"
"Tim Garner," she said. "He's from Boise, but he lived in the Tri-Cities for the last few years. That's where I met him. But where he is now, who knows?"
"Is he likely to return to the Tri-Cities?"
She snorted. "Uh, no. He skipped out on the last month's rent on his apartment, and he owed money to some guys there, too. I don't know who, he never said."
Manda didn't really care where Tim went, as long as she never had to see his face again. Although she'd like her things back, he'd probably hocked them by now, or discarded them somewhere the way he had her.
The two cops rose, and LaRond tucked his little notebook in his jacket. "All right, Ms Kowitsky. You think of anything else, give us a call." He left a business card on the swing-tray table, and they walked out.
Manda lay in the bed and stared unseeingly at the bright hues of the flower bouquet. She felt exhausted, used up, and yet edgy at the same time.
She'd had sex with a member of a known motorcycle gang? Holy hell-buckets.
Well, at least it had been great sex. And contrary to what one might expect from a biker, he'd been sweet, even gentle. And he'd then rescued her from Rezan and Jere, and left one of his biker brethren to guard her in case Rezan came after her again.
But even so... he was still a biker. And according to the police, not far removed from the kind she thought she'd left behind in the Tri-Cities.
Here she went again, falling for the wrong guy.
CHAPTER EIGHTTEEN
* * *
Tuesday
Manda's morning started off great.
She woke up feeling better than she had since she arrived at the hospital. Heck, better than she had since arriving in the Spokane area.
She had a shower, and ordered cinnamon rolls for breakfast, along with bacon and eggs. She even got a vanilla latte. Now that her headaches were under control, her appetite was roaring back. She ate every bite of breakfast, and drank a juice as well.
Then the ER doctor who had admitted her, a small thin Asian-American with a nice smile and screaming yellow-and-blue sneakers, checked on her, made a notation on her chart, and told her she could go home.
"I can?" she asked, her eyes wide.
He chuckled. "I get that response a lot. Can't understand it. Sure you don't want to lie around here and be waited on for a few more days?"
"Uh, thanks, everyone's great, but... no thanks."
"All right then. Your nurse will be along in a bit to take the IV out. Just relax till then, okay? You take care of yourself, Manda."
Left alone, Manda sat up and looked to the phone on the bedside table... and remembered she had no one in the entire Spokane Valley to call. The only person she even knew at all was T-Bear, and he had his own life. She couldn't expect him to drop everything and come get her.
And even if he did, where would she ask him to take her, a homeless shelter?
She sank back in the bed and hugged the blankets up around her, staring sightlessly at the puffy clouds in the blue spring sky outside.
Oh, God... she was going to have to call her mother
Manda's lip quivered, and tears filled her eyes. She put a hand over them, taking a shaky breath, fighting the urge to bawl like a baby. Could she just catch one stinkin' break, please?
She was going to have to call her mom, and ask to stay with her. Arliss Kowitsky was not going to be pleased—and wasn't that the understatement of the year?
* * *
The first thing T saw when he walked into Manda's hospital room
were the roses. All right. They were all pretty and golden-gingery just like he'd ordered. Bet his honey girl liked that.
Then he saw her, his smile spread even farther. She was sitting up, all fresh and clean, her hair shiny as a new penny.
"Hey there," he greeted her. "You look good. Real good." Except her eyes were kinda pink, like she'd been crying again. His heart contracted. He really hated seeing that. A woman like her should never have to cry, not over nothin'.
She looked to him and her cheeks pinked up too. Fuck, now that he liked. He hadn't been around gals who blushed for a long time, till he met the Boggs girls. Darlin' and Little Darlin', his nicknames for Lesa and Billie, blushed a bunch, probably 'cause they now spent time around a bunch of rowdy, horndog bikers who did not hesitate to say whatever was on their minds, no matter how raunchy.
Now he had him another sweet woman who showed her feelings, honest and true.
"Thank you for the flowers," she said, her hands working the blanket at her throat. "They're beautiful." She smiled at him, just a little one, but hey, for a gal who'd been through what she had, any smile was good, right?
"You're welcome for the flowers," he said instantly. "Thought they might get you in the mood to, uh, not be mad at me no more."
He held up his hands as her smile disappeared. "Now, I ain't sayin' you gotta do it today, or even this week, but if you can see your way clear to forgive me one of these days, that'd be good. Say, by Easter?"
She gave him a look. "What's Easter got to do with anything?"
T rocked back on his heels. "Well see, if you're mad, the Easter bunny won't come. He don't like folks arguin' and shit."
She giggled, and he tried to look innocent. "What? That's a known fact. An' I know you don't wanna miss out on all them chocolate eggs. I like the peanut butter filled ones, myself."
