“Nothing, I didn’t see anything.”
He raised his chin, his eyes squinting as he looked me over. Then he spotted the patch on my backpack and picked it up.
“Now, this,” he pointed to the patch as he spoke. “This is interesting. How do you know the Renegade Rebels Motorcycle Club?”
Fuck. I could lie, tell him I didn’t know them. But if I told them who I really was I knew one of two things would happen. Either they would keep me safe and return me to Harley, or they would kill me and return me to Harley. Considering my brother had just humiliated the man standing in front of me, I didn’t think my chances of survival were so good.
Turns out, I didn’t have to say a thing. One of Sergio’s men riffled through my bag, finding my ID.
“Jill Robinson, boss.”
“Ah, now let’s see. Harley Robinson is the president of the Renegade Rebel Motorcycle Club. You told me your name is Rebel. But your ID says Robinson. So are you Rebel Robinson?”
“Yes.”
“So you are related to Harley, I assume, amiga? Is that correct?”
I didn’t reply, just stared at him, keeping my face as still as possible.
“Well, this is definitely an interesting development, isn’t it, amigos?” he said to his men, their guns still pointed right at me.
“Sí, jefe. Muy interesante,” the biggest of the two replied.
Sergio dropped his gun to his side, walking over to my bike and looking at it.
“Is this your bike, Rebel?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s very nice. Very nice, indeed.”
He stood there silently for a moment, his eyes glued to mine until he suddenly snapped his fingers and walked away.
“Bring her. Bring the bike, too,” he called over his shoulder as he strode down the sidewalk back to the warehouse. “And don’t hurt a hair on her pretty head.”
I screamed and struggled as one of them grabbed an arm and began pulling me along with them down the block. The other pulled the keys to the bike from the clip that was fastened to my belt-loop and stayed behind.
The sound of my bike starting up behind me, mixed with my pleas fell deaf to anyone’s ears but mine.
I had royally fucked up and all I could do was hope Harley could get me out of this. He was going to hate me now, I just knew it.
It’s funny that my first thought was of Harley hating me, and not of my own personal safety. Something in the way that Sergio had instructed them not to hurt me, and the firm, but still gentle way I was being led down the street by Sergio’s man, kept me from panicking.
When we returned to the warehouse, instead of entering the building, Sergio’s man put me in the back of a large, black SUV with heavily tinted windows. He slid in next to me and sat silently as we waited together.
I looked over at the door closest to me and saw that it was unlocked. Sergio was nowhere in sight, and neither was the man that took my bike. Just this big, silent, dumb guy sitting next to me.
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, and saw the big gun he was still holding in his hand. But then, Sergio’s words rang in my head again, and as I looked back at the door handle just inches from my hand, I knew I had to make a run for it.
He wouldn’t shoot me, and I was a lot smaller than him, and I would bet good money I could run faster than him.
I took a deep breath, and began talking to him.
“Look, mister, I didn’t mean any harm. Don’t you think you can just let — ,” I pulled the door handle mid-sentence and jumped out of the car as fast as I could, my feet already running before they even hit the pavement.
“Mierda!” he yelled, and just as I turned the first corner, I heard him run around the vehicle and begin to chase me.
I ran as fast as I could, my feet flying under me. I was going fast, too fast. I turned a corner and my feet slid out from under me, and I slid across the pavement, skinning my right thigh and calf painfully.
Sergio’s man caught up with me instantly and grabbed me with both hangs, pulling me yelling and kicking to my feet.
“Let me go, you fucking asshole!” I screamed, kicking him as he easily held me up off the ground, my legs flailing. I reached over and bit his hand as hard as I could, a big chunk of bloody flesh left in my mouth as he dropped me and began yelling and cursing at me in Spanish again.
“Mierda! Mierda!” I started to run away again, but he was too fast and despite the pain he must have been feeling, he caught up to me again, his blood dripping onto my black boots.
This time, he held me out in front of him, carrying me back down the block and muttering to himself the whole time.
“Pequeña perra. Me Morder como un pequeño monstruo de mierda!”
I kicked and screamed at the top of my lungs, but he was holding me so tightly that I couldn’t escape his grip. When we returned to the warehouse, Sergio was waiting outside the vehicle, his arms crossed, his expression stern, yet amused.
“Ella es un pequeño demonio!” Sergio’s man yelled to him from behind me as we reached the car.
“Fuck you!” I yelled. Sergio laughed at his man’s words.
“What the fuck is so funny?” I laughed, my anger rising in me now in waves. Fuck these guys, I wasn’t going to let them take me anywhere without a fight.
“He said you are a hellion, little one.”
“A hellion?” I asked, spitting in Sergio’s direction. “You have no fucking idea. Let me go! Now! You have no idea who I am, and you are messing with the wrong woman!”
“Woman? Woman!” Sergio roared with laughter, and I would have kicked him square in the balls if his goon wasn’t holding onto me so tightly. “You are still a kid, little one. I’d be surprised if you even had any hair on that pretty little pussy of yours. Not only are you a kid, niña, you are a stupid kid, apparently. What would possess you to come here? Huh? You want to be in the big, bad, motorcycle club like your brother? Is that it?”
So he had figured it out. He knew I was Harley’s sister. Good. That was good, I thought. Or, maybe not. Either was I was fucked. Once again, I thought of how pissed off Harley was going to be when he found out I followed him.
“Fuck you!” I said, spitting at him again. He shook his head at me, looking at me like I was an oddity in a circus.
“Let’s go,” he said, smirking at me. He turned to get in the car as the goon behind me shuffled me forward and put me back in the car roughly.
He locked the door next to me, sat closely next to me and tightened his grip on my arm even more.
“You’re hurting me, you asshole!” I said, doing my best to wiggle away from him.
“Too bad, niña!” he said, not loosening his grip on me at all, even though we were driving down the road at full speed.
“I’m not going to jump out while the car is moving, for fuck’s sake!”
He looked at me with his beady black eyes, leaning in so close to me that I could smell his rancid breath.
“You aren’t going to jump out at all, because I’m not going to let you go!”
“Fuck you,” I replied.
I sat there silently, watching my future play out in front of my eyes as we raced down the road. It was simple, really. Either I survived, or I didn’t. I resigned myself once again to not go out without a fight, and if they were going to kill me, which I desperately hoped they wouldn’t, they were going to have to work for it.
When we finally entered a garage, I looked around and realized we were pulling into the garage at the Crescent Hotel. The Crescent was one of the fanciest hotels in Dallas, and one of the busiest. If these guys thought they were going to successfully keep me from escaping from a fancy hotel, they were sorely mistaken.
I liked to think of myself as an amateur escape artist, which went right along with my love for picking locks. I could get out of almost everything. When we were kids, Harley, Mason and I spent hours watching old videos of Houdini and trying to recreate his famous stunts. They would practi
ce tying me up, using rope or scarves to tie me to a chair and then see how long it would take me to get out. We took turns, but I always the best at escaping.
We did some weird things to pass the time when we were kids, but didn’t all kids? As long as these guys didn’t hurt me, I was pretty confident I could get out of whatever they threw at me.
I just needed to stay calm, and everything would be just fine.
They whisked me right up a private elevator that led straight into the penthouse suite of the hotel, with Sergio’s goon holding me tightly the entire time.
“Where’s my bike?” I asked Sergio once we were in the room.
“Don’t you worry, little rebellious one. Your bike is fine. You’ll be fine, too, as long as you cooperate with me. If you do as I say, you’ll be back with your motorcycle riding gangster family before you know it.”
“Well what the fuck is going on? Let me fucking out of here!”
“All in good time, little one. In the meantime, why don’t you enjoy this luxurious suite? I’m sure someone like you…,” his voice held complete disdain for me, and he looked me up and down with contempt in his eyes, “has never had the opportunity to see such a nice place.”
He was right, but I wasn’t about to let him know it.
“Fuck you and your luxury suite, you’re nothing but a glorified drug dealer and when my brother finds out you’ve got me here he’s going to do a lot more than take your fucking drugs, you moron!” I was screaming, crying, fear kicking in hard as I yelled at him, my voice shaking, despite my best efforts to control it.
He laughed at me and turned away.
“Sit down,” Sergio’s goon pushed me down onto a white silk couch, towering over me while I rubbed my bruised arm.
“I’m going to make a few calls. Keep an eye on her. But remember - don’t hurt her. We need her safe and alive,” Sergio said.
“Sí, jefe.” He sat on the couch next to me, folding his arms and settling in while Sergio walked down the hallway, his voice fading as he stepped into a back bedroom.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
I left the clubhouse at five in the afternoon, fighting rush-hour traffic before I finally made it home thirty minutes later. I was so happy everything went so well with the cartel and even more happy that Harley seemed to have come to some sort of acceptance when it came to Rebel and me.
I still didn’t know how our lives would look with her in it, but I was excited to find out. I had never wanted a relationship with a woman, in fact, it was the last thing I was interested in. But something about the way Rebel made me feel had changed everything whether I liked it or not.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her all day. Harley had decided to go home at the same time I did. He wanted to spend the evening with Rebel, trying to make some amends with her and help her get on her feet.
I easily could have moved her into my place, but that wouldn’t be the best thing for Rebel. She was young, and she still needed to experience living on her own, and taking care of herself. I was looking forward to watching her grow, and spending as much time with her as I could.
I took a shower when I returned home, and just as I was drying off I heard my cell phone ringing. Hoping it was Rebel, I ran down the hallway to catch it before it went to voice mail.
It was Harley.
“Hey Harley,” I answered.
“They’ve got Rebel.” He sounded frantic and his voice was full of worry.
“What? What are you talking about? Who has her?”
“The fucking Garcia cartel. I don’t know how, but they’ve got her. I got home and there’s a note stuck to the seat of her bike with a fucking switchblade right in the middle of it.”
“A note? What does it say?” My legs trembled, and my anger rose. If they hurt Rebel, I would kill them.
“It says, ‘The girl for the drugs’.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Yeah. What are we going to do, Mason?”
“I’m on my way. Stay put.”
“Alright. Hurry the fuck up. I will kill those motherfuckers if they hurt her!”
“Try to stay calm. If there’s any killing to be done, I’ll fucking do it. She’s going to be okay. I’ll be right there.”
I hung up the phone, dressed, and was roaring down the street in two minutes flat.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
By the time Mason arrived, I was sick with worry. And I still had no answers as to how Rebel ended up with them.
I called Sergio right after I called Mason, and he answered right away.
“Hola, Harley! I was expecting to hear from you!”
“You motherfucker! If you hurt my sister, I will fucking cut your cock off and stuff it in your mouth after I rip your tongue out!”
“Oh, now, now, Harley. I thought we were friends? I wouldn’t think to hurt your little hellion of a sister. She’s quite frisky, isn’t she? I’m surprised you want her back, to tell you the truth. But obviously, you do. And I’ll be very happy to return her to you safe and sound. But, since we do have a business relationship, I’m going to need those drugs back. As you know, they’re worth a hell of a lot of money. I just can’t afford to part with them. And now that I have something you want, well why not? Surely, you understand, yes, mi amigo?”
“Fine, whatever. Where the fuck is my sister?”
“I will tell you where she is as soon as I have my product back, mi amigo.”
“Fine, where do you want to meet?”
“Well, just to make things easy, let’s meet at the same warehouse we were at this morning, shall we?”
“When?”
“How about at ten tonight?”
“Fine, but if you hurt Rebel, I will fuck you up so bad. I’m not kidding, Sergio. You’d best not fuck with me.”
“Now, now, mi amigo. Let’s keep this cordial, shall we? No need for anger. As long as you don’t cause any trouble, I’ll take care of your precious sister, I promise.”
“Ten p.m. See you then.” I hung up the phone right as Mason barreled through my front door.
I had never seen a man so ravaged with worry. His grimace was drawn tightly across his face and he was heaving with anger.
“What the fuck, man!” he yelled.
“I just talked to Sergio. I have no idea how they got her, I came home and her bike was in the driveway with the note on it. I called Sergio, and he wants to trade Rebel for the drugs.”
“That motherfucker. Of course he does. I’m going to fucking rip his head off!” he yelled again.
“Look, try to calm down. I’m worried, too. But Sergio wouldn’t hurt her. He’s not that stupid. I’d kill him and his entire cartel and he knows it. If we have to give the drugs back to get Rebel, then fine, whatever.”
“Fine, so let’s go.”
“Not till ten p.m. He’s meeting us at the warehouse. Let’s call everyone back to the clubhouse, we’ll make a plan, get the drugs and get to the warehouse on time.
“How did they even get her? How did they know where you live?”
“I don’t know, man. I can’t believe how fucked up this is. All I wanted to do was keep Rebel out of this life, and now she’s so deep in it, I just - just - I can’t even fucking think about it. We gotta get her the fuck outta there.”
“Motherfucker!” Mason yelled again.
“I know, bro, I know. She’s going to be okay, I promise. Let’s get to the clubhouse,” I said.
Mason agreed and we hoped on our bikes after calling Maverick and filling him in, instructing him to get everyone back to the clubhouse to meet us.
As I roared down the highway on the way back to the clubhouse, I had never felt so much worry for Rebel. She was good at getting herself in trouble, but it was never anything like this. This danger was real.
Mason sped down the highway in front of me, his bike weaving in and out of traffic dangerously, and I knew he was seeing red. If I had left Rebel at Mason’s house, she probably would have been safer. They wouldn’t
have looked for her there. I should have known that Sergio would seek revenge after I humiliated him so badly in front of his own men.
What the fuck had I been thinking to not have the family on lockdown in the clubhouse during such a dangerous time?
Instead, we were celebrating like a bunch of fucking idiots.
I thought of my father, knowing that if he were there, his eyes would be full of deep disappointment that I had put Rebel in such a dangerous situation.
I could only hope Rebel didn’t do anything stupid to make the situation any worse. And even more importantly, I could only hope she would forgive me for being the worst brother in the whole goddamned world.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
“I have to pee.” I told the goon sitting next to me.
He ignored me, his eyes glued to the television in front of us. I nudged him.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Jorge.” He replied, staring straight ahead.
“Well, Jorge, I have to pee.” I stood up, and that caught his attention finally.
“You were peeing when we found you.”
“Yeah, well. I drank a lot of water, and you guys are scaring the piss out of me, so unless you want me to piss on this pristine white silk couch, then you’ll show me to the bathroom.”
The penthouse was practically a fortress. The only way in and out was the fucking elevator and that made a loud ding every time it opened, so sneaking out without being noticed was not going to happen. I was hoping if I could take a look at the bathroom, I could at least find something to incapacitate this guy.
Sergio had left the penthouse after a few minutes of making phone calls in the other room, and instructing the goon to keep an eye on me.
“Don’t harm her, under any circumstances, but don’t let her leave either. I trust you can handle yourself with her?” I over heard him whispering to him in the corner.
“Si, jefe. Sorry about earlier. I’m a drug dealer, not a kidnapper. I don’t have a lot of experience holding on to wiggling putitas.”
SAVING REBEL: Renegade Rebels Motorcycle Club Page 10
