by Debra Kayn
Chapter 30
The car raced after Thad and Lena, forcing them off the street. A curb appeared to jump out in front of Thad. Lena latched her fingers, pressing her hands against his stomach, and closed her eyes. On impact, her body went up, and her ass came off the seat of the motorcycle. Thrown against Thad's back, she came down hard, biting her tongue, and lost the pegs under her feet.
Thad!
Her body slid sideways on the Harley, and her foot scraped the ground, ripping her shoe off. The abrasion slid her farther off the seat and burning heat seared the inside of her thigh. Blind panic constricted all her muscles, and her fingers slipped apart, and she frantically grasped Thad's jacket. Afraid of falling off the motorcycle, she screamed, knowing she couldn't hold on.
Thad reached back, grabbed a fistful of her jeans at her hip, and hauled her back on the seat. Without pegs under her feet, she plastered herself to his body and repositioned her hands.
"Hang on tight," he shouted. "I'm going to get us as close to Wayne's house as I can."
She nodded against his back that she heard him. Unsure if she was even breathing because she couldn't open her mouth. The roar of the bike made hearing anything almost impossible. Her muscles were numb.
Thad turned the bike again. She caught a glimpse of a car blocking their way.
She sailed over another bump, slid, and pulled herself up using Thad as her anchor. The moment her ass hit the leather, she was shoved into Thad.
Before she could control her body, the motorcycle stopped. The engine stopped. And, her heart stopped.
Four men stood in front of them blocking their way.
"Babe?" Thad patted her thigh. "Get off the bike and stay behind me."
The huskiness of his voice in the quiet scared her even more. She looked in the other direction. A car parked at the end of the block, in the middle of the road, made it impossible to run and not get caught. She swallowed and slid off the seat. She yelped at the sharp pain on her shoeless foot. Her leg burned and her skin pulled on her thigh. Panting, she grabbed on to Thad the second he stood in front of her.
A man gripping a knife in his hand stepped forward. "Toss the pistol you're wearing."
Spots danced in Lena's vision. This couldn't be happening.
Where were they? Where was Wayne's house? She'd lost track of the streets and how many times they'd turned trying to get away.
"You want it, you'll have to take it from me," said Thad.
"No," she whispered to Thad. The moment he gave away the only weapon he had, they'd kill him.
"Any fucking agreement we had with Notus Motorcycle Club is over." The man twirled the knife in his hand.
"I think Billy would have something to say about that." Thad widened his stance. "I deal with him, not you."
The man's lip snarled. "I want the woman."
Thad's body hardened under her hand. "You're not going to get her. She's mine."
"A life for a life." Spit sputtered out of the man's mouth, and he motioned for the three other men to come closer. "That's how it's always been, and I aim to slice her fucking throat, gringo."
Lena's stomach rolled, and she lowered her head, dropping her gaze. She didn't want to die.
"Whose life do you believe she took?" Thad reached behind him and held her in place, his body shielding her.
"My grandma, man," shouted her attacker. "The bitch has got to die for letting my grandma die. She be taking too long, yo. The ambulance took its sweet time, because of her. Nobody hurts my family. Not you. Not her. Nobody."
"I didn't kill anyone," she said, her voice cracking.
"Bitch, don't tell me you didn't. I was there. I know what you did, all because I'm Tigres." The man charged forward.
Lena froze, stumbling backward and losing contact with Thad.
In a fraction of a second, Thad tackled the man, both of them hit the ground hard. The knife flew from the Tigre member's hand, clinking a jagged path several feet away on the asphalt. Lena opened her mouth to scream for help, and she noticed the three other men walking toward her.
She retreated, keeping an eye on Thad, an eye on the men, an eye on the curb, planning to run around them if she got the chance. Her feet barely moved though she exerted herself. She couldn't decide where to go. Toward Thad to help him or away from the men.
Thad struggled to grab the man's arm while kneeling on the guy's stomach and failed. The man got a free hit in, and Thad threw his fist forward at the same time his head whipped to the side under the impact of being hit. He recovered and elbowed the man's chest, eliciting a huge groan from him.
Lena looked back to the others. The three men had circled her. She moved forward, dodging their outstretched hands. She wasn't going to let them kill her.
But, she couldn't leave Thad.
"Get the fuck away from her." Thad pushed himself to his feet, staggered, and pulled his pistol from his holster. "Any one of you touch her, and I'll blow a hole in your fucking forehead."
The man on the ground got to his feet and punched Thad in the back. He turned and decked the man, taking him to the ground. Thad's fury-fueled punches never slowed. He pistol whipped the man's face again and again. Blood sprayed in the air.
Panicked, she remembered her mace she carried in her jacket. She continued to move and dodge away from the others getting closer, while she slipped her hand into her pocket. There was a safety.
She fingered the cylinder, unable to find the piece of plastic to know which way to turn the top. Afraid to bring the spray out in the open unless they take it from her before she could use it, she dropped to the ground on her ass.
Hunched over, hiding her hands, she said, "Please, don't hurt me. Leave me alone. Please. Please."
Her fingers found the indention on the spray, she turned the top, and making sure she held the nozzle away from her, she jumped to her feet, ignoring the pain throughout her body, and sprayed a wide circle of mace around her. The men hollered and brought up their arms, backing away from her.
Her pro-active stance to fight back energized her, and she worked her way closer to Thad while holding the top down on the mace, planning to use the whole thing to get them out of the situation.
The men's outrage and suffering filled her ears along with the sound of motorcycles. She chanced a glance and spotted Notus members riding up the street. Even then, she continued spraying. She walked blindly into the mist, to get to Thad who struggled on the ground with the man wanting to kill her. She grabbed her face until the pain in her eyes and nostrils overwhelmed her, and she dropped the can, cowering in blindness.
"Thad," she screamed.
Afraid the men would recover before her, she held her hands out in front of her, unable to open her burning eyes and hesitantly walked forward.
"Help him," she screamed, hoping the Notus members were near. "Help Thad."
Her mouth watered. Drool spilled out. She gagged and fell to her hands and knees, retching dry heaves. Every time she opened her mouth to yell for help, her body constricted.
A siren filled the air. She rubbed at her eyes. The pain only worsened as if her face had started on fire.
Hands grabbed her around the waist. "I got you."
She swung out, missing making contact and unable to see who she fought.
"Lena, it's Glen. I got you."
She felt herself being pulled up. Waving her arm in front of her, trying to grab on to him and force him to help Thad but she couldn't talk. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. God, her lungs hurt and her eyelids—she reached up, and someone blocked her from touching her face.
"I know it hurts like hell, but touching your face is only going to make it worse," said Glen. "Sit down. I put you behind the bikes where you'll be safe. I've got a couple water bottles in my duffle. It's not going to take much of the burn out of your eyes, but it'll help you breathe."
The sirens disappeared. Someone yelled at Thad to stop and put the weapon down. She scooted, trying to get up and go to him,
and a hand landed on her shoulder.
"Stay down. Tip your head back," said Glen.
Water ran down her face, into her nose, her mouth. She spit and gagged. Just when she inhaled for the first time in too long, more water rained down on her. The sweet relief was only temporary. As soon as she thought she could open her eyes, the burning started again.
Over and over, Glen drenched her with water. Yelling could be heard away from her, but she couldn't decipher what anyone was saying.
"Th-Thad?" she said, spitting out water.
"He's doing okay." Glen's voice moved away from her.
"Don't let him die." Every pore in her body stung. Tears ran from her eyes. Drool from her mouth. Snot from her nose. "H-he's going to love me."
"The police are here trying to get control of the situation," said Glen. His voice closer now.
"I want...Thad," she whispered.
Hands clasped her head. "We won't let anything happen to him."
She held Glen's promise in her heart. Blinded and unaware of what was happening all around her, she could only trust that Thad wouldn't leave her. Not now, when she'd only figured out that she loved him.
Chapter 31
Thad's fists exploded with each pummeling punch to the Tigres member's face. Each powered by rage over the gang terrorizing Lena. The pain only urged him on.
"Bowers, stand down," shouted Lieutenant Gomez.
He could no longer see Gomez and the two other cops in his peripheral vision. The only thing he could see was the bloody bag of shit in front of him, no longer moving. No longer popping off. No longer looking at Lena. No longer a threat.
Arms hooked around him, dragging and lifting him away. He growled in frustration, fighting against the hold.
"Enough, brother," said Wayne quietly. "You don't want to kill him. Not now. Not here."
"The police have the other three in custody." Chuck grunted as Thad's swing made contact with his chest. "Lena needs you."
He stilled, heaving hard, and swung his gaze around the street looking for her. "Where is she?"
"Glen's with her behind the bikes." Chuck turned Thad. "Go to her."
He stalked away, licking the blood trickling into his mouth, poisoning his tongue. Gomez moved in on the injured man, shouting for Thad to stop. He kept walking. Lena was here somewhere and needed him.
The moment he spotted her, rage rekindled inside of him, and he dodged the motorcycles and made his way to her. Kneeling down in front of her, he tilted her face and grimaced. Her swollen eyes, held tightly shut, bloomed red. Snot flowed from her nose, and she sat out in the cold soaking wet.
"She got caught in the mace she was spraying. We need to get her to Wayne's house and pour some milk over her face, then get her in the shower to wash off the oil from the spray." Glen gripped Thad's shoulder. "I can take her. Officer Johnson is heading toward you now. They're going to want to talk with you."
"Keep the cops away from me," said Thad. "I'm taking her. They know where to fucking find me."
Thad stood, picked up Lena, and walked. Her body made for his, she molded to his chest and tucked her head into his neck. Nobody would ever touch what was his. If he'd lost her, he'd kill every person wearing Tigres colors and never rest until he wiped the world of every fucking member.
Lena couldn't leave him. She was staying in his life. He didn't give a shit in what capacity she stayed with him, but he wasn't going to let her go.
"Pepper spray," he mumbled, unable to believe she had the spray on her and yet not surprised. She'd proven herself over and over again that she could take care of herself. "Babe...?"
"You're okay?" she whispered into his ear.
"I'm good."
"I was so scared."
Her hands touched his face as if reassuring herself he was holding her. The oil from the spray on her body burned his eyes.
Her body convulsed in a sob, and she coughed, until his gut hurt for her. "I was afraid I'd never—"
"Sh." He marched up Wayne's driveway. "I know."
At the door, he used his boot and kicked the wooden barrier. "Clara! It's Thad. Let me in."
The deadbolt clicked, and the door opened a crack before swinging open. Thad rushed in, explaining the situation as he went through the house and into the guest bathroom on the main floor.
Clara arrived a minute later carrying a milk jug. Poised over Lena sitting on the toilet, Thad took the milk. "Hold your breath."
He dribbled the milk over her eyes, her nose, her mouth. "Clara, I need dish soap and some clothes for Lena to change into."
"I'll be right back," said Clara.
"Keep your eyes closed, babe." Thad unzipped her jacket. "I'm going to take your clothes off. If the skin on your face starts burning again, tell me. I'll pour more milk over you."
"We're making a mess in Wayne and Clara's house," she mumbled with her eyes closed, but her breathing had slowed to gasping.
Fuck. Even her lips were swelling. He pulled her coat off, her shirt, and undid her bra by the time Clara came back. Pulling her to her feet, he unfastened her jeans and pulled them down with her panties.
Lena cried out, grabbing him. He looked at her legs and angered all over again. She had a burn on the inside of her thigh, and he'd ripped the skin off when he'd removed her clothes.
"Babe..." He swallowed hard, then looked at Clara, lost at what he should do to care for Lena's injuries. "She needs a doctor or a paramedic."
Clara uncovered her mouth and whispered, "I'll call Wayne and let him know."
Being careful not to jostle her wound, he lifted her one foot and removed the shoe, then worked the jeans over her other foot, noticing the missing shoe and the torn sock. Lena's hand landed on his shoulder, and she balanced herself. Taking his time, he worked the material off her foot and found road rash across the top of four toes. Only her little pinky was spared.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered.
"It's okay. My foot doesn't hurt much." She found his hair and stroked his head.
Her body trembled and still she tried to comfort him.
"We need to get the oil washed off you." He stood, grabbed the jug of dish soap, and started the water in the shower.
Thank fuck, she had the pepper spray on her today. It was probably what saved her from getting hurt even worse. Tigres members never treated a woman differently than a man when it came to retaliation or even their own members. Women were used, abused, and thrown away. He stuck his hand under the water and adjusted the temperature. He'd planned to leave his pistol in the holster because things could've gotten ugly fast and he didn't want Lena caught in the crossfire in case the others had been armed with more than knives.
He'd hoped to take them out with his bare hands and have their focus on him. But, the other three went for Lena.
He should've shot them all.
Testing the water again and finding the temperature warm, but not too hot, he turned around and guided Lena into the tub and the stream of water from the showerhead. She tilted her head and let the spray flow over her face. A low moan came out of her and Thad kept holding her as her body swayed and her knees weakened as relief came over her. Hating to take her away from what brought her comfort, he stepped into the tub and held her against his hip, while he looked at the bottle of soap, not wanting to pour it on her but not knowing what else to do.
"Here." Clara handed him a washcloth. "Wayne said it'll take the oil off better if you put the soap on the cloth and gently rub."
He nodded his thanks. He worked from head to toe, washing off Lena's body, knowing the spray mainly was on her hands and face, but wanting to make sure her wounds were clean. By the time he'd finished, he held all her weight. She was done.
Clara reached around him and shut off the water, holding out a large towel. He lifted Lena out of the tub, dried her off, and Clara helped him get her dressed, exchanging the sweatpants she'd originally brought to the bathroom for a pair of shorts so that her wounded leg would remain exposed.
"Thad?" said Lena.
He looked into her eyes and almost choked. She looked straight at him. Her eyelids could open again.
"You look like shit, babe," he whispered.
Soft laughter escaped her swollen lips. "I feel like it, too."
She ran her fingers over his face, wincing when she touched his busted lip, his swollen cheekbone.
"I'm okay," he said.
She shook her head. "This is my fault."
"Shut up."
"If you hadn't been—"
The doorbell rang. Clara walked back into the bathroom. "That'll be the paramedics. Do you want to put her in my bed?"
"No." Lena grabbed on to Thad. "I don't want you to leave me."
He picked her up, ignoring his wet clothes and one boot full of water, and carried her into the living room where the paramedics stood waiting with Wayne, Glen, Chuck, and Lieutenant Gomez.
"Lena?" A male paramedic approached the couch and put down his container. "I wasn't expecting the call to be for you."
"Trust me, I wish it weren't me, Sam." She straightened her leg and groaned. "It's much nicer to talk to you over the radio and see you at the first responder softball games."
Sam lifted her leg, inspecting her inner thigh. "You've got a second-degree superficial burn." He looked up. "What burnt you?"
"The muffler of a motorcycle," said Thad, gritting his teeth.
Sam whistled low and studied Lena's face. "Now, I heard you had a little run-in with some mace. So, before I clean the wounds on your leg, are you sure it isn't a chemical burn? Gas...? Cleaner...? Lighter fluid...? Not that I don't believe it came from a motorcycle, but I need to make sure there was nothing else involved that could've touched your leg. Different types of burns are treated differently."
"It was the bike," she whispered, looking up at Thad. "It wasn't your fault."
He remained standing beside her. He'd been responsible for her, and she'd gotten hurt. It was his fault.
Sam looked at his partner. "It looks like it's been cleaned. Hand me the burn ointment and dressing."
