After that, the men threw me down my stairs and put me in my living room. The leader made phone calls to determine our fate, ultimately deciding it was better to keep us both alive – at least for now. Apparently they might need us if Noah came looking. We were that extra bit of leverage they could have against his enemy.
Then, they put us in the back of a van with bags over our head. When Sherri tried to speak to me, they slammed the wooden handle of a hammer against her head till she stopped talking and her body slumped up against mine. When we got to wherever we were going, they put us into this trunk, where we’ve been ever since, only let out a few times to go to the bathroom, get a drink, and for a woman to place snack cakes in our tied hands.
I count the seconds down in my head. I do them slowly – trying to make sure I don’t underestimate how much time has passed in our moving prison. I’m well over five thousand before the car pulls to a stop again and I hear someone approach the trunk. As light streams in the back, I look up to see a man holding an old Polaroid camera up to his head. A light beam flashes, making me blink. He hands the developing photo to another man dressed in black.
Another man holds out a cup of clear liquid that I drink quickly, eagerly. My dry tongue tries to ask for more, but they just laugh and then push the trunk closed again. I count the seconds again, this time to the tune of my favorite songs. Sherri’s body turns over once more, and I cuddle close, praying my warmth will keep her alive.
“We’re going to get out of here,” I whisper hoarsely. But as it becomes harder to focus on the amount of seconds passing by and the bumps feel more like waves washing over me, I lose hope that my end isn’t anywhere but here in this trunk with Noah a million miles away.
Chapter 26 FAYE
10,345.
10,346.
10,347.
…
Each second that passes is another I spend in complete and utter agony. Each second that passes is another in which I am kept in the dark. I’ve reset my clock a few times now – each after someone has opened the door to the trunk I’m currently being kept in. But now we’re getting to the three-hour mark, and I’m starting to grow anxious.
Unlike before, the car hasn’t moved at all. At least, I haven’t felt it move or noticed the engine turn on. My nostrils and throat haven’t felt the sting of the noxious gas fill my lungs as I try to gasp into the bandana wrapped around my gagged mouth. But I also haven’t heard any sounds either. No muffled voices, no footsteps just outside. Nothing. It’s as if Sherri and I have been forgotten.
So all I can do is wait and count. Wait and count. And think, too. I’m not going be able to sleep; that’s far from happening. So, instead, my mind races with forbidden, horrible thoughts about what led me here and how I am partially responsible for all this. It’s my fault that my roommate Sherri’s cold, motionless body is laying next to me and it’s my fault Opal disappeared. I have to take some credit for my own life hanging by a thread.
Everything began so innocently. I was just a teacher, like any other teacher. I wanted those straight line desks, the pencils all neatly stacked in my organizer, and students who wrote their names on their paper each and every time. But, instead, I got Opal and her dirty mouth, her loud comments, her love of fighting anyone and everyone who dared question who she was. And how could I not care about her? How could I not want to step in and make sure she was okay?
But one little, dirty touch in my classroom changed all that. I can still feel the heat of his breath on my cheeks as he says, “Miss Harvey” to me in that condescending, overbearing voice of his. It’s the one that makes me weak in the knees and lose all sense of control. It’s the one that led me to crossing that line and allowing his hands to slip under the hem of my dress and up my thigh.
I eventually made a bed with him despite knowing better. But there was something about him, something about how he held my face in his enormous calloused hands and ran his fingers through my hair that made me want him over and over again.
I put my job on the line to be with him and to see Opal get through her challenges. But no good deed goes unpunished. I should have learned that lesson ages ago. However, I like to see the best in everyone, the potential in the most helpless. And for Opal and Noah, the Cruz family, they became my project. How could I take a man out of his motorcycle club and his daughter out of a life that would only stifle her abilities?
But I should have known I would eventually get caught up in his danger. That’s all he is – fire and blood, sweat and motor oil. Every part of him from those dirty boots to the black and gray tattoos along his chest were warning signs that I was too blind in the moment to read. Now I am paying a price. With each second that ticks on by in my brain, I know my time is running out and running short. There wouldn’t be many more moments left to spend thinking about Noah or us together.
11,243.
11,244.
11,245.
There’s a small thud, then some scuffs. It’s the sound of heavy shoes on pavement followed by the familiar crunch of gravel. I hear a small voice screech as she yells out to someone, anyone, “Where are you taking me?” There’s a pause. Maybe someone’s answered her, but she’s even more terrified as she adds, “I don’t want to go there! Please! No! Not there!”
Opal’s voice suddenly fades into the distance with some slams and another shuffle. It’s the first I’ve heard of her since the men took us this afternoon. I let out a sigh of relief. Despite us being so close to our ends, at least I know Opal is still alive. And even better, she’s still fighting like the girl I know and have come to love.
But what about me? How was I going to fight this? I don’t have a moment to even think of a plan. Before I can get to 11,351 seconds, the black trunk fills with beams of lights pointed directly into my eyes. I blink rapidly, trying to look away. A man laughs as I recoil towards the back of the trunk, away from their hands. “They’re like dogs in a cage.” He jabs at Sherri with the end of his long, black flashlight. “Well, except this one. She looks dead. Did you tell Rock?”
His partner tussles Sherri a bit, turning her over to face him. I get a good look at her for the first time in a few hours. She’s pale, her head covered in red streaks of blood from where she was hit. Her body is limp and not responding. But the man and I notice the same thing. She’s breathing. He turns back to his friend, “She ain’t dead, Zane. At least not yet. You want me to call the doc or tell Rock or something?”
“No. Just get her downstairs with the kid. It won’t matter by tomorrow evening.” He smiles at me, seeing the fear spring in my eyes. Whatever is happening tomorrow evening is something I do not want to know about. But at least now I know a timeline. I have to get out of here, out of their capture in about twelve hours.
The man pulls Sherri out of the trunk and throws her over his shoulders, just like he would a sack of vegetables or a weight at the gym. Her body sways dangerously near to the ground as I watch him go down the steps, wobbling at each one. A metal door, charred and brown, closes with a loud squeak of the hinges, and I’m left alone with the man.
He looks at me questioningly as he pulls out a pack of red and white cigarettes. He leans against the car as he smokes one slowly, “So you’re Noah Cruz’ gal?” he asks almost amused. “You know, I wouldn’t think he would like a girl like you. You’re a bit uptight for his tastes. At least, compared to his wife. Or, should I say dead wife? He has a habit of killing the girls in his life.”
He lets out a long cackle at his own sick joke, and I try to close my mind to him. Instead, I am trying to focus on every bit of detail I can about the place that I am in. It’s a garage. Or, at least what used to be a garage. There are burned out cars to the sides of me, and I can still smell smoke and char in the air. This place has been recently burnt down, and so much so I can see the marks of a fireball in the cement walls and on the concrete ground.
I lift my head a bit, trying to see what’s behind me, but it’s caught his attention. He can see what I
am trying to do, and he isn’t too happy about it. I watch helplessly as he leans over me and grabs my long, thin hair into a ponytail.
With an excruciating yank of force, he pulls my by the root of my scalp towards the front of the trunk while screaming, “Get out, bitch! Get out.” I tumble out of the car and onto the cement and gravel ground, falling straight onto my wrists and elbows. I cry out a bit as he picks me up again by the hair, forcing me to stand to face him. He comes toe to toe with me, pressing himself up against my chest and body. His voice lowers as he says, “You’ll do what I fucking say and when I fucking say it. Or else, you’re going to have a lot of problems with me and my boys. Do you understand me?”
I nod enthusiastically. I can sense from the way he touches me what he is hinting at, and I am not risking that. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever. The name of the game is survival first, rescue Opal and Sherri second, and save myself last. And if that means following orders and staying peaceful, so be it.
“Good. Now get walking.” He spins me around by my waist, facing me towards the door.
I walk at a clip towards it with him following behind me. I can hear his breathing rise as we get nearer and the sounds of men celebrating become clearer to me. Whatever’s waiting for me isn’t going to be pretty.
The door opens and the smell of dirty bodies, ashes, and piss fill my mouth and I begin to gag. There’s barely a light, only a few small, dingy windows with glass blocks trapping out the clear light to guide me. Still, I can see the men I go pass leer at me as they lick their lips and laugh to themselves. They all know who I am. I am the girl who slept with Noah Cruz, the vice president of the Disciples. And I’m a piece of meat to be devoured by them. That’s more than crystal clear.
One of them chuckles as he says to the man behind me, “Oh come on, boss. Let’s just have a taste of her or that sweet piece of ass that’s with her. I don’t mind mine almost dead.”
Another voice shouts out loudly, “That’s cause the only time you can get it is when they’re almost dead!”
The man behind me ignores him and opens a metal door. He turns me around and reaches out my hands. I try not to look at him, or any of the other men panting and staring, as he places metal cuffs around my thin wrists. He spins them tight, and I can feel the cold, hard steel push into my skin. Before I can complain or ask him to loosen them a bit, he turns me around again towards the open door and kicks me hard against my butt and thighs.
My body falls with a hard bang, and I am just barely able to catch myself on the landing of some concrete stairs. I slowly pull myself to sitting and crouch towards the one window of the room, hoping I can see better if I have some source of light. But the sound of my knees and hands crawling on the pavement awakes something as I hear a cough and a whisper from the far side of the room.
“Hello? Hello? Who’s there?” It’s Opal! Her voice is tired, completely overwhelmed. I’ve never heard her so terrified of anything, even when the house she was living in was getting shot up by the Bonebreakers in a vicious attack.
“Opal! It’s me! It’s Miss Harvey. It’s Faye. Where are you, sweetheart?” I try to keep my voice low, but I am too excited to hear her, to be near her.
“I’m over in the far corner. I can’t walk. I think my leg is broken or something. It’s all twisted. Can you come here?”
I change course and head straight towards her, my hands searching for her in the dark. But I don’t find her body lying on the cold ground. I find Sherri’s. I shriek a bit, scaring Opal even further. “What is it? Is it Sherri? Is she okay?”
I bend down near Sherri’s face and listen to the soft breaths. They’re weak and far apart, but there’s air and a heartbeat. And for the moment, that’s the best news I can get outside of Opal being alive. I turn back to her, continuing to crawl towards her. “Sherri’s going to be okay. She’s just knocked out from the hit. But we have to get out of here, okay.”
I find Opal’s leg first. She’s right. It’s twisted back in an unusual way, and I can feel the thick pulse under the swollen flesh. I tell her to hold onto the wall as I pull it out from under her and around towards the front. I then rip off the sleeve of my flannel shirt to wrap around the top. She cries out as I tie a large knot around the muscle.
As she begins to sob in pain, I pull her head into my chest, kissing the top of her head. I whisper to her slowly, steadily, “It’s going to be okay, Opal. Your dad is going to find us, and I’m going to think of a way to get us out of here. Just you wait and see. We’re going to make it.”
But with each of my words on repeat, I can’t help but start to wonder if it is true. Where is Noah? And why hasn’t he come to save us yet? He should have been here by now. But here we are, trapped in a dungeon in some burnt out garage waiting for rescue and fighting for every second of our lives.
Both of us start to fade into sleep as the hours pass. Opal rests against my chest and I hold her tight in my arms. Suddenly, I jolt awake, bringing Opal with me. There, in the distance is something oddly out of place and yet familiar. It isn’t rescue or police sirens filling the air. Instead, it’s the high-pitched ring of a phone and someone barking loudly into the receiver, “So you finally found me, Noah…”
Chapter 27 NOAH
I’m pacing. I’m actually pacing. I’ve seen guys do this before, nervous ones who have no grip on reality or who can’t take matters into their own hands. They walk back and forth, their head facing the floor as if an answer will come to them if they just move. And I find myself one of those fools with their eyes planted on the ground, hoping and praying a solution will come to me.
They’ve got my girl, my beautiful daughter. Lines have been crossed before. Partners have been killed, best friends murdered in front of the other. But there has never been anyone in the history of our gang rivalry who has brought children into this damn mess. And now they went ahead and did it.
But those bastards didn’t have the guts to do it in my own house. They waited until Opal was taken from me, placed in Faye’s care, before they struck. Goddamn fucking cowards. They knew if they tried to touch my daughter I would come after them with every fiber of my being. And they must know that now. They must know I will never, ever let this stand.
Still, I’m here, making marks in the floor from my pacing. Big Tusk and Trigger, my two best pals, are watching me silently. They’re feeling Opal’s loss, too. Those guys, and most of the gang, have watched her grow up. She took her first steps right here in our kitchen. She said her first word in the basement during the club meeting as one of the old ladies held her. She wriggled out of her grip and stumbled towards me, crying out “Dada! Dada!” until I picked her up and let her sit in my lap.
Opal isn’t just some club member’s kid. There are loads of those around. No, Opal is everyone’s kid. And taking her from under us is like taking our most precious commodity. We are all thinking of the same thing: revenge. Vicious, swift, awesome revenge. And if she isn’t found or, worse, the unthinkable has happened to her, it won’t be just revenge they will be getting. As God as my witness, I will not cease until each and everyone of those Bonebreakers are buried deep in their mass graves.
But I push that thought away. Something tells me Opal is okay. Call it wishful thinking, but I know that as long as Faye is with her, she is safe and sound. I trust Faye with Opal’s life. I’ve seen her and how she treats her, cares for her. She wouldn’t let anyone near her without putting up a fight. And no one wants to mess with an angry, OCD teacher. I should know.
My stomach turns as I grow tired and dizzy. I find the chair sitting next to me, and I look to my two friends. I need to hear something; someone needs to talk. Big Tusk clears his throat as he says softly, “What do you think is taking so long? I mean, shouldn’t the rest of the gang be here by now?”
“They’re coming, Tusk. They’re coming. Most of the guys were blasted at that party. Now Griz has to round up some sober drivers to get the men and their cycles back to base for the meeting. It’s
gonna take a bit.”
We were all out mourning the death of our three brothers when we got the news. Well, I wasn’t so much mourning as I was drunk fucking one of the club girls. Just thinking of her and her limp body climbing all over me sends bristles of regret up my spine. I haven’t done anything that stupid in such a long time. And now it feels like I’m paying for my moment of weakness.
I stand up, running my hands through my hair. “FUCK!” I can’t help but scream out in frustration, “I can’t just sit here! What the fuck am I supposed to do just sitting here waiting for everything to fall into place?” I grab my leather jacket at the back of one of the dining room table chairs. “I’m getting out of here. I’m going to go find her.”
Trigger reaches across the table and takes my arm, pulling me back down. “When Griz says we stay, we stay.” His voice lowers as I fall into the seat, “You gotta trust us. We’re your men, and we’re Opal’s man, too. We’re not going to let her go.”
“He’s right. And I’m not going to sit around here and wait either.” Big Tusk is suddenly alert. Whatever Trigger said is rallying him around the cause. “I’m going to get a recon group ready. We’re going to find them.”
BIKER’S GIFT Page 43
