by Karen Renee
Remembering Cal with his mouth to Melissa’s ear and her arms around him, his arm around her, I thought my heart was trying to compete with my head for the most pain. They were right. James and Gavin, and probably Bobby too. Cal was bad news. How could I have fallen for him in the span of a month? And I foolishly believed that he fell in love with me too? Clearly my bullshit-o-meter was out of order, because in my twenties there wasn’t a chance I’d believe a man loved me after a fucking month. How stupid could I be? I decided to stop beating myself up because it was making my headache worse.
I moved my legs and tried to roll to my back. That was when I realized I was not alone in the room. Shit. I wasn’t sure how I should play this. One thing was for sure, without my hands available, fighting back was going to be difficult. It was also clear that I was in a house of some sort, and had been taken to the “second location”, the place self-defense classes warn against.
I turned my head as I tried to twist my body, and heard an older man’s voice say, “I wouldn’t try lying on your back. Sadly, Starla gave you quite a hard whack and it’s going to hurt even to put your head on a pillow for a few days.”
I looked across the room to see a thin man who was probably in his late fifties. He was wearing a long-sleeved blue oxford shirt and gray tailored pants. His hair was all grey and parted to the right. He had on rimless glasses and his eyes were a startling shade of green.
I was on the verge of asking him who he was when the door to the room opened and Starla came in asking, “She up yet, Daddy? It’s been four hours.”
Four hours. If I was even in the ballpark on the timing of things from last night, that would mean it was probably only two in the morning. Thinking of Cal’s embrace with Melissa, he might only now realize that I was missing. Then I thought of Natasha. She’d know I was gone, and she would be freaked way the fuck out. That made me feel even more awful. Before I could dwell on how much Natasha would be worried about me, Starla’s father answered her question.
“Yes, dear. She just woke up.”
My throat was parched, but I managed to rasp out, “What is this all about?”
I wanted to ask more, but saying five words made my head hurt worse and I felt nauseous.
Starla gave me a sneer and said, “This is about righting wrongs.”
“Now, dear. That’s not entirely true. It’s just an added benefit to you, though what your interest in other people’s love life is, I’ll never know. Mallory, this is me being imaginative about the debt Gwendolyn Pierce owes me. She has failed to pay up, and some acquaintances of my daughter seem to think she has a source of income from you. Is this true?”
“No,” I semi-lied. A one-time pay off did not a source of income make, in my eyes.
Starla gave me a full out sneer. “You lying bitch. You gave her money. Enough to buy a new car, according to what I heard.”
Her father shot her a warning look. I didn’t think it was good form to eavesdrop on bikers, and I could only imagine that she overheard Cal talking to Volt or someone about the issues with Gwen. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know how ‘imaginative’ her father was going to be about Gwen’s debt either. Silence rarely got me into trouble in life, so I decided to be quiet.
Starla’s father gave me a piercing look as if he was trying to read the truth from my eyes. He canted his head, asking, “Anything else you wish to say, Mallory?”
I shook my head and placed my cheek on the pillow.
He stood from the chair and said, “I’ll let you rest some more. In the morning, we get imaginative.”
Starla shrieked, “In the morning? Daddy, we have to get them to pay up now. The only way I talked Melissa into helping me was to give her a shot at Callous. He’s not going to be checking his phone. You have to get Volt to see he needs to pay her ransom.”
Daddy’s green eyes flared at Starla. He turned her around by her elbow and hissed, “Out. Now! Before you say anything else to tip our hand.”
My headache was throbbing steadily, but hearing Starla’s admission my heartache subsided slightly. Cal was set up, but I couldn’t understand why his mouth would be at Melissa’s ear and his arm around her too. Starla and her father left the room, and the light went out. I closed my eyes, and mercifully, I fell asleep.
My right knee was hitched up, and my left leg was fully-extended, straight with my toes pointed. A hand came and swept my hair away from my ear. Then lips surrounded by scratchy stubble started kissing my neck. That was when it hit me. The strong distinct smell. Razor. Ohmigod!
I could feel the bed depress near my ass, and then he was straddling my hips. Shit! I did not want to be raped. His arms twisted me more to my back. Razor settled his hips lightly in mine, and then he dug something out of his pocket. He leaned over me and my nostrils were flooded with the scent of his cologne. I didn’t think my headache could get worse, but that strong scent made it three times worse. I heard a slight jingling, and my wrists were suddenly free. Both of Razor’s hands rubbed firmly up and down my arms. I almost felt guilty for suspecting Razor capable of rape, but after the night I had just had, anything seemed possible.
He quietly stood from the bed and murmured, “You know if you can walk, Fireball?”
I sat up feeling dizzy and stiff. The light in the room was grey, and I knew dawn was approaching. I opened my mouth to reply but a groan came out instead. He put his knee back onto the bed and said, “I’m not going to hurt you. But we gotta get outta here, baby. Took me too fuckin’ long to find you as it is. I’m gonna put you over my shoulder and carry you out as gentle as I can.”
“So…you’re—”
“Shhh. Let’s go.”
I took a deep breath, and let Razor carry me out of the house.
Turned out the house we were at was in St. Augustine, so Razor planted me on the back of his bike, threw a leg over, and we roared up A1A to Jacksonville. The roar of his bike and the wind in my hair did nothing for my head. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his shoulder in an effort to keep my nausea at bay. Almost an hour later, Razor pulled us over at a gas station just inside the Jacksonville Beach town limits.
He turned to me and said, “I’m sorry, Fireball, but I can’t take you to my compound. All my brothers are in Daytona and it’s not safe at all. You sure as hell aren’t going to your house, and the homes of any of your friends are gonna be bad news, too. You got a preference on where you stay, or should I call one of my buddies who’s cool?”
I wracked my brain for a moment and remembered we were at Jacksonville Beach. My mother had a former co-worker who lived in Neptune Beach, and she and I shared a birthday, just different years. We had a connection that wouldn’t have been there otherwise. I thought of Margie and her husband Guiermo, and I knew they’d be willing to help me.
I looked at the brightening sky and asked, “What time is it?”
Razor pulled his phone from his back pocket and announced, “Seven-fifteen.”
I took a deep breath, and said “Let me use your phone.”
Luckily, Margie and Guiermo Cortez’s phone number was publicly-listed and information connected me, so I didn’t have to call my mother for Margie’s number. I knew Margie was a morning person before she retired; I just prayed that she still was.
Fifteen minutes later, Razor and I stood inside Margie and Guiermo’s foyer and Margie gave me a fierce hug.
She held me at arm’s length to say, “I was so sorry to hear about your losses, Mal. Especially your wee lad. No mother should go through that, dear. I know your parents were crushed.”
Margie was born in Ireland, and still had an Irish lilt in her voice. Her husband, Guiermo, who went by Mo, was Puerto Rican by birth, but both were full-fledged US citizens. They met in New York City. Like so many of the transplants in the Jacksonville area, they moved south when the winters became too bitter.
Margie dropped her arms and asked, “Who’s this man with you? New boyfriend?”
Razor spoke before I could. “No,
ma’am. Mallory’s mother-in-law has brought Mal some trouble. Just keeping Mallory safe.”
Margie lifted her chin and said, “Ahh. Never had a good feeling ‘bout that lass. Loved your husband, but she seemed a bit off. Have you two eaten? Mo would be happy to whip up a standard Irish breakfast and we’ve got some Irish whiskey. ’Tis always good for what ails ya.”
Irish whiskey was the last thing I wanted or needed. I wanted to know what happened with Cal and Melissa. I needed three ibuprofens. Depending on the outcome of the first, I may or may not have needed to sleep for six months or so.
Razor being a biker said to Mary, “Irish breakfast sounds great, ma’am. And if you don’t mind sharing the Jameson’s, then I don’t mind having some. Haven’t had Jame—”
Margie cut him off with a strong, “Ta! Jameson’s! Tullamore D.E.W., lad. The only way to go. How about you, Mal?”
I smiled. “I’ll take breakfast, but no whiskey, thank you, though.”
Razor smiled his beautiful smile at Margie and said, “I need to step outside to make sure my bike isn’t noticeable and make a phone call. When I get back, I’ll take Mallory’s share of the whiskey, if you don’t mind, Miss Margie.”
* * * * *
We went into Margie’s very bright kitchen nook, and she set us up with plates filled with sausage, eggs, toast, and in Razor’s case, two shots of whiskey. The brightness of the room made my head pound, and the food I was eating tasted good but was sitting in my stomach like rubber ball that might bounce back up at any moment. The room was starting to spin, and Razor and Margie both looked at me with concern etched across their faces.
“Let’s get you into a bed, Mallory,” Margie said.
I tried to stand up, but it seemed like the room was leaning to the side. Razor caught me before I could fall. He guided me to a guest room. They both helped me get situated in the plump queen-sized bed.
Margie gave me a stern look and said, “Do not go to sleep, love. I have a bad feeling that you have a concussion. We should probably take you to be checked out.”
* * * * *
CALLOUS Saturday 9:42pm
Something was off, but Cal couldn’t put his finger on it. Vamp settled at the picnic bench and Starla sat down next to him. The conversation was friendly and the subject matter was almost in the gutter, which was typical at Bike Week. The cover band broke into the first notes of Godsmack’s “Whatever,” and to Cal’s utter astonishment, Natasha practically dragged Mallory away to dance. Who dances to Godsmack? More surprisingly, Mallory seemed excited if the bounce in her step which traveled straight up to her lush round ass was anything to go by.
Vamp nudged him and said, “You need to keep an eye on her, man. She don’t know what to expect.”
“Damn it, you’re right, brother,” Cal said, shaking his head.
He and Vamp were standing on the edges of the dancing group of people. Watching Mallory and Natasha have so much fun made Bike Week sweeter, and Cal had never imagined it could be sweeter than it already was. Vamp had moved away, undoubtedly scoping out available females. Knowing the song would soon end, Cal ambled away to where he figured Natasha and Mallory were most likely to exit the dance area. Cal was contemplating the near-perfection of the weather when Melissa sauntered up to him.
Cal put his hands up to ward her off, but she quickly grabbed them and put them around her waist. Then she slid her hands around his neck. She stood on tip-toe, and Cal knew she wanted to whisper in his ear. He decided to beat her to the punch.
With his mouth to her ear he growled, “Get your fuckin’ hands off me, you whore. I’ve never hit a woman, but there’s always an exception to the rule.”
Cal tried to pry Melissa away from him, but she held tight to his neck. He knew she was up to something, and the song had ended. “Beast of Burden” had started, and there was no way Mal and Natasha would still be dancing.
Melissa finally let go of his neck and she said with a smile, “Your loss, Callous. Hope you get to enjoy your yuppie pussy.”
Cal turned around, and sure enough, Natasha and his woman were nowhere to be seen. His instinct that something was off intensified, leaving a burning sensation in his gut. The burning increased when a few moments later Natasha found him and asked where Mallory was.
Running a hand over his scalp, Cal said, “I haven’t seen her since the two of you were dancing. How did you two get split up?”
“I went to get drinks for us, and Starla was hanging with her. Maybe they’re with Vamp.”
Cal scanned the crowd, begrudgingly saying, “Maybe you’re right. Let’s try to find them.”
Five minutes into their search they came across Volt and Jackie. Everyone was nonchalant about his woman missing, but the dread in Cal’s gut was getting stronger. In an extremely short amount of time, Mallory had worked her way into his heart. Her feisty attitude that sometimes bordered on unintentional bitchiness was a challenge he had to beat. Having been a product of the foster system, it had taken him decades to have things that were definitively his own. It started with his bike, then his cut, and when he hit his thirties, he finally bought his house. Figured he’d always be a confirmed bachelor, and that was fine as long as he had his brothers at his back. Then he spied that damn picture of Mallory, so fuckin’ gorgeous. It was hokey to say that he knew he had to have her; but after meeting her that Thursday night in February, his fate was practically sealed.
It’d be a cold day in hell if Cal let his shot at Mallory slip away. Everything he learned about her spoke to him on some level. On their way back from the Loop, Cal felt a joy he had never experienced before. The thought of putting his cut on Mallory came unbidden to him on that ride and he knew it was right. He would make her his Old Lady. His woman, always.
His brothers didn’t seem to be taking this seriously enough, and that had to change. He could feel his fury rising when Volt picked his phone out of his pocket to look at a text. The change in his expression told Cal the message wasn’t good.
“Razor just texted me. He saw Starla and an old geezer carrying a woman out of the restroom of the bar. He thinks the woman might be Mallory, but he’s not sure. He’s following a black BMW sedan. He’s gonna keep us posted.”
The liquor Cal had downed earlier churned in his belly. His fists clenched at his sides. He growled out, “Fuck that shit. I’m going too.”
Volt stepped up to Cal chest to chest. “No, brother. That’s an order. They’ve got a good twenty-minute jump on us. I know he’s a Leatherneck, but he’s been trustworthy before.”
Cal tipped his head down at Volt. “If it were Jackie you wouldn’t trust anybody, even one of your own brothers, to bring her back safe.”
Cal’s rant was cut short by Roll approaching. He was dragging Trixie beside him by her elbow. He viciously shoved her toward Volt and Cal and said, “Tell them what you just told me.”
Trixie exhaled and said, “Melissa said Cal was gonna regret turning her down tonight. She helped to take care of the yuppie chick for good.”
Cal had always had a fiery temper, but it was rare when a woman of Trixie’s caliber would cower from a simple look from him. Cower Trixie did, though, because Cal couldn’t remember the last time he had been so furious and outraged.
“What in the fuck does that mean, Trix?” he demanded.
After a beat of hesitation she said, “Melissa told me Starla asked her to approach you tonight when Mallory was distracted. Make it look like you two were, I don’t know, trying to get together again or something. Starla just wanted Mallory to see it, and then she was going to get Mallory away and take care of the rest, is what Melissa told me.”
Cal started to charge past Trixie in an effort to find Melissa, but Volt and Roll grabbed his upper arms to hold him back. He pulled hard against them, even though it was useless. Roll was a big man who might look like he’d gone to flab, but he hadn’t. His strength was bullish and he was one of the few brothers who could beat Cal. Cal stood down and blew angry breaths t
hrough his nose.
Vamp chose that moment to saunter up with his arm around a skinny blonde. She was wearing a hot pink bikini, a smile, and black stilettos, just the type Vamp liked at any bike rally. His grin quickly faded when he caught the tension in the air surrounding the brothers.
His hold on the blonde loosened and he asked, “What’s the problem?”
“That fuckin’ cunt Starla took Mallory,” Cal said tightly, stepping toward Vamp.
Anger and disbelief warred on Vamp’s face when he asked, “How the fuck would fuckin’ Starla take Mallory?”
Volt stepped between the two men and said, “She had help from some geezer, according to our info.”
Vamp ran his hand over his shiny bald head. “Dammit. I had a bad feeling about her recently. I just didn’t know why. It’s why I didn’t want her to stay with me when there was an option for her to stay somewhere else. Shit. Jesus, brother, I’m sorry. Are we ridin’ out? What’s the plan?”
Volt shook his head, and announced, “We’re waiting. I want to know more before we go in. Riot doesn’t do things half-cocked. We’re not going to start now. Get me all the brothers who aren’t shitfaced, including brothers from the support chapters.”
Cal felt like ripping every hair from his head. Patience was never his strong suit, and waiting on information back from Razor made it even worse. Volt was right, though. Going in half-cocked meant the difference between life and death in their world. Always had, and it always would.
7:30am Sunday morning
Cal’s head jolted up as if it were spring-loaded. He heard Volt’s phone before his brother’s eyes even opened. Cal squinted at the sky. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t happy to see a Florida sunrise streak across the stratosphere. Mallory had been gone almost ten hours.
