“Tie them up.” The driver turned back toward the other man.
“Why are you doing this?” Porsche asked.
“We are taking her to her man.” He held his gun to Meadow’s head. “Turn around.”
She did and tight rope bit into her skin as he tied her wrists behind her back. Tears trickled down her cheeks.
When he tried to force Porsche to turn, she fought him. Meadow saw she scratched his face before he backhanded her and sent her flying toward the double doors. The sound of her head hitting the metal echoed in Meadow’s skull as she watched Porsche go lifeless then the man flipped her over and bound her hands.
“The bitch is going to pay for this,” he said lifting her head. “Yeah, that mouth needs to be used for something later on.”
Tears blurred her vision, but not before she made out the back of the man’s cut and the words Blood Sport.
17
Freaky met Baldy outside the restaurant. They had to talk about how they were going to approach the gun running with the Blood Sport and was a bit surprised to see the new groom there.
“Dang, she’s tired of you already,” Freaky said as he clasped hands with Hack.
“Nah, her sister wanted to go shopping for bikini’s for the honeymoon and I needed food.” He beamed, the man finally returning to who he was before the stress of the perfect day. “Baldy’s been keeping me in the loop and I know he voted for others, not himself.”
“True,” Baldy said. “I’ve got more work than I can handle, but that doesn’t mean ya’ll do. I was buying the garage before the Steels even came to town.”
“Well, I appreciate the vote,” Freaky said, then turned to Hack. “So you wanna run point?”
“With you. I’ve got other shit I’m in charge of, but I’ll extra cash for a bigger place would be nice.”
The men stepped into the Roadside to see all the women huddle together like a damn quilting circle.
Michele saw them and broke from the pack to get their orders.
“What’s going on?” Baldy asked as they sat, all of them watching the women fuss.
“Porsche,” Michele said making Freaky’s ears perk up. “She told Topaz she had a ride.”
“Dreamer took her to lunch,” Freaky said.
“Did they go to Berrington?” Michele asked waving over Topaz.
“I doubt it,” Freaky replied pulling out his phone to call Dreamer. “Let me call her.”
“She would never be late,” Topaz spat as she came over to the men. “What’s this about Dreamer?”
“They were gonna have lunch.” The phone went to voicemail and he shook his head.
“Wasn’t her SUV out in the parking lot?” Lyna asked, hitching her thumb. “The rust colored one?”
“I’ll check surveillance,” Hack said rushing to the back office with Freaky in lockstep.
It took the tech head less than thirty seconds to run back the video and Lyna said, “See, there they—”Her voice stopped.
Freaky witnessed his woman being thrown into a van along with Porsche. Their bodies little more than ragdolls as the men tossed them in the back. “Who are they?” Freaky barked.
Hack switched views, playing back the video to see the patch in vivid black and white, Blood Sport.
“Print their faces,” Freaky demanded.
“I thought they weren’t threatening to do more than go to a different dealer. What the hell do they want?” Hack frowned.
“Print the damn picture,” he ordered and snatched the paper from the printer.
“What are you planning?” Hack asked halting him as Baldy stood in the doorway.
“I’m going to their clubhouse.” Freaky, shoved Baldy aside and headed outside.
Hack ran up beside him. “We need help, you have to wait for backup.”
“Fuck that. Dreamer’s not part of this,” he snapped. “I entertained their offer, I talked with them and now, they’ve taken my woman.”
“I get that, but—”
Freaky shucked off Hack’s hand and got on his motorcycle. Pealing out of the parking lot, he wondered how much time he had to get to their clubhouse to try and stop them from whatever they were planning on doing with these two women. They’d been taken over an hour ago, most of that time would be in transport as he went flying toward Berrington.
The county seat, where Hollywood was the sheriff, but he wasn’t working today. There was no calling ahead to have him kick down the door of the clubhouse. Freaky had ferreted out when they were trying to decide if they should work together. Now he was cursing the day the men ever came to town. Jesus, he should have beaten them for approaching Meadow in the first damn place.
Instead of the ride calming him, it only intensified his rage because his bike couldn’t teleport to exactly where they were. Calculations shot off, making him push his bike to speeds he’d never reached. The patch on his back would negate any cop in a speed trap. Steels didn’t go too far, they had the protection afforded by Hollywood. It did make him understand the split that would need to happen in the club. Never a full break, just a little right hand, ignoring the left on the odd Tuesdays.
His stomach tightened as visions of Meadow smiling as she spun in the open field. Her skirt belling out and hands in the air as if she we’re calling down the ancients. The quiet morning as the sun rose. No words spoken between them, and yet so much had been communicated as the sky turned from navy, to purple, pinks and yellows as the world woke all around them. Not the thuds of heavy boots or squeals from a morning after slap and tickle. Showers turning on or the smell of breakfast and strong coffee coming through the vents.
No, with Dreamer he wasn’t even sure he’d woken. The beautiful woman resting her head on his shoulder as birds started with sweet songs, then turned in to bitter battles that had an air of gossip to them the higher the sun rose. Sips of coffee warmed his body as the suns heat fought away the cold. He’d been in the moment. No distractions. Finding a place Meadow chased and tried to share with others through pictures.
And some assholes took her.
Freaky’s hand rotated forward as if he could somehow make up the hour difference between them. Dreamer had a way of shifting her thoughts. Putting a pretty spin on anything, but he wasn’t sure this could be one of them and he was pissed it was even an option.
The Blood Sports clubhouse was some two story building that had once been a bar. Berrington was getting worse by the week, so finding distressed property wasn’t hard. Dismounting his motorcycle, he walked inside the building with his gun in hand and ready to fight if he had to.
Hack and Baldy would be behind him, maybe others, either way these crotch sniffers fucked up.
“Your President, now!” he said drawing down on the man. “I may not be able to get you all, but I’ll get enough and I know your medical isn’t nearly as good as mine.”
“Wait just a minute.” The guy behind the bar stopped and stared at him raising his hands. The word prospect jumped out and the man was so new, they hadn’t even bothered to give him a name.
“This is really important, I’m not in the mood and trust me when I say this is way above your pay grade.” Freaky wanted to figure this shit out and he didn’t have time for this prospect to decide if he could talk to his boss.
Three other members stood and walked over to Freaky. “What the hell man? You don’t walk in here and make demands.”
“Bullet count still in my favor,” Freaky warned then took a deep breath. “Two of our women were taken by two of your members. I want them back and they’d better be unhurt.”
“Wait just a frickin’ minute. We don’t know anything about this. Let me go and get our President.” One of the members walked toward the back of the clubhouse.
“Hey, you got a phone?” Freaky asked not about to let the man just work his way into a weapon.
The man held up his hands, then slipped one into his pocket.
Freaky’s finger slowly applied pressure on the trigger until he
saw the phone in the guy’s hand.
The prospect behind the bar leaned over, “Wait, are you talking about Creep and Jackson?”
“They look like this?” Freaky retrieved the surveillance footage from his pocket and slammed it on the bar top.
“Yeah, that’s them. They were supposed to go and pick up a woman. She was in need of a rescue. Her husband was concerned because ya’ll had her. Was offering big money.”
“Seriously, what the fuck are you talking about?” Freaky was getting really annoyed with how uneducated this group of soccer dads were being. No way, these men could actually be bikers.
“Some dude named Clive came in here all upset, thought we might be able to help him out.”
The name sent chills down his spine. “You fucking morons. You take his word? No questions asked.”
“I didn’t, Creep and Jackson talked to him,” the kid whined. “Said something about getting ten grand.”
These men needed a long sit down. The only threat they posed was their complete lack of understanding of how the world worked. “Where are they now?”
The President and other members walked into the bar area and up to Freaky. “What in the hell is going on here?”
Freaky holstered his gun and turned to the President. “Two of our women were taken by two of your members. This prospect said they were told to rescue one of them for her husband Clive. Who isn’t her husband, he’s her abuser.” Freaky glared at the prospect who lowered his head. “Do you know anything about this?”
“No, this isn’t sanctioned by us. We don’t know anything about this. You better start talking,” the President ordered the Prospect.
“They left here maybe an hour ago. Creep and Jackson rode with this Clive. He’d been sitting in the corner drinking and waiting for them to come. They called him out to their van and Creep hopped on his motorcycle.” The bartending prospect tried to make amends.
“An hour ago? Where were they heading?”
“I don’t know. They didn’t say.”
The guilt washing over the kid let Freaky know he’d tapped that well. “Trackers? You got them on your vehicles?”
“That a thing?” the Prez replied.
“Ya’ll want us to work with you and this shit show—” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Look, our men went behind our backs too,” the Prez said. “We’ll reach out and ride with you to help find them. Whatever we can do to right this.”
“And that will do what for the women currently being held by a sociopath?”
“It’s all I have to offer,” the Prez said.
His sincerity was almost enough to push the rage focused on the Blood Sports aside. Freaky figured Clive would head home to New Mexico. The Steels took off that morning which meant he could set up a blockade down the road, but again time was not on his side. The Steels were hours into their ride. Shit this was on him.
Texting Hack, he told him what he suspected then jumped on his motorcycle, once the Prez said he couldn’t get ahold of his men. Freaky headed toward the freeway and the Blood Sports said they’d scatter and keep trying to call.
Driving ninety miles an hour, he moved quickly between semis and the occasional car. Nothing but open road ahead of him. They wouldn’t speed, he knew that. Especially with kidnapped women with them. At some point, the two Blood Sports had to break off or hear from their Prez. A rest area sign ahead had him wondering would they stop?
He figured it was worth the few minutes to drive through the rest area and check in with what the Steels discovered. Pulling his motorcycle off the road, he drove into the area and looked around.
Spotting an older sedan and two motorcycles he wondered if this was them. The Prospect had said they left in a van, but he also wasn’t exactly reliable and the sedan had brightly colored plates, unlike the ones Montana generates. It was worth the chance to check.
Pulling up beside the car, he saw Porsche sitting in the backseat. A gag in her mouth as she sat with her wrists tied to a bar on the back of the seat. A sigh of relief left his lips. This he could handle.
Approaching the back of the car, he saw Clive coming out of the rest area dragging Meadow by a rope between her bound wrists. How the fuck did that Blood Sport member walking behind them not realize he wasn’t doing god’s work in this little rescue job?
Meadow was his priority now. Porsche was alone. Stepping onto the sidewalk, the world twisted sideways as a sharp pain slammed into the back of his head. His vision tunneled, the sight of relief vanishing from Meadow’s eyes as a sharp blow to his knee buckled him in half, and the light vanished. Sending him into a spiral of painful blows to his body until he no longer registered any sensation.
Meadow watched in horror. The two Blood Sport members were beating Freaky with pipes and chains. They hit him over and over again. Freaky’s body jerked with each booted stomp and hard blow. The worst part was she had hope. Fleeting as it was before that Creep came from behind and smashed Freaky’s head. Had she been the distraction? Freaky had been staring at her and not looking around as the man came up behind him.
Clive shoved her in the back of the car, only this time she had someone to fight for and she kicked at him. With a balled fist, Clive sent stars into her eyes as he punched her face and bundled her legs to shove in the backseat and slam the door. She struggled to see if anyone else was there. The rest of the Steels? A random person?
The place was deserted. No one but she and Porsche could hear the grunts of Freaky as Clive kicked him in the stomach.
“Leave my women alone.” Clive got into the car and turned toward her and Porsche. “Now I got you both, there is no way I’m going to let you go. You need to learn who you belong to.”
“You can’t do this,” Meadow shouted for the both of them.
Porsche’s eyes were empty as she leaned her head on the window, resigned to her fate. One Meadow had put her in. The vibrant woman looked destroyed as she sat still, no longer able to live in the world.
“I can do anything I want with my property.” Clive reversed then put the car in drive, pulling out of the rest area.
Meadow turned in the back seat, her bound wrists on the headrest. The two men were going at Freaky as if he’d done something to them. By the time Clive turned the corner, they finally realized he was leaving.
Tears were slipping down her cheeks, stinging her swelling eye as she reached for the gag in Porsche’s mouth only to have her shake her head no, then cut her eyes at Clive.
“What are you two doing back there?” he snarled, his dark eyes bouncing between the women from the rearview mirror. “Don’t make me pull over and gag you Meadow. That mouth of yours is always been an issue.”
Her lips tightened and she wondered if she pissed him off enough to pull over again. With Freaky finding them, the Steels couldn’t be far behind. Glancing out the back window again, she saw two motorcycles. The dumb Blood Sports who actually believed Clive had ten grand for them.
“We got your woman, even got you a bonus,” the Creep said. “Now where’s our money?”
“The job ain’t done,” Clive said. “I need out of the state. These guys aren’t going to stop until they have them both tricked out on drugs and stripping. That’s worth driving a few miles out of town.”
“Money?” Meadow mocked and got a slap across her lips for her troubles.
“Quit that tongue of yours woman.”
“Says the man with the most unskilled one in the world,” Porsche added, earning her own smack.
“Thought you said we were rescuing them?” the other one questioned.
“You are,” he said stepping to the man. “They’ve been brainwashed and I need to hit them with a hard rinse cycle, understand?”
“Whatever, just get me my money,” Creep ordered. “We ain’t doing this shit for free. Don’t care what you say about the men they were with. Money, now or we let them go.”
Hope bloomed in Meadow’s chest like the lilacs sitting in the traile
r’s kitchen. Small little bits coming together.
“I’ve got an extra five if you get me to the border safely.”
“Clive you wouldn’t want to do that,” Meadow snipped. “You just got that extra nickel so you could rub the two of them together.”
This time, she moved back when his hand swung. Could these two idiots not see she was saying the man was broke? Not on his best day had the man pulled together a hundred bucks, let alone the thousands he’d promised them.
Clive caught her by the back of her hair, fisting the locks and twisting to send a hard sting to the back of her head. His nose traced along her neck making her stomach flip with nausea.
“You’re going to learn your place,” he said, shoving her into the back of the car and locking her in by using the bar on the back of the seat to keep her place.
Porsche was locked in next as he gagged both women and returned to negotiating his lies with the men.
Meadow communicated the best she could with Porsche as they both tried to move enough to have the other pull their gag at least. Nothing worked.
With a rush of cold, Clive opened the door on Porsche’s side and stroked her cheek. She jerked away but he clamped down on either side of her chin.
“Keep acting up,” he warned. “You’re a bonus to them. You’re lucky I still love you Porsche or I’d let them have you in trade.”
Porsche’s eyes narrowed as Clive’s hand cupped her breast. The visual too much and Meadow had to turn away. It was one thing to be groped while doing a lap dance. It was expected and quickly rejected, but right now Clive could do anything to them as Porsche’s cries and squirming to get closer to Meadow let her know he was doing more than touching.
“Ah, there’s my tight pus,” Clive said as Porsche moved and snarled behind her gag.
Her words were inaudible, but Meadow didn’t have to hear them to know they were stop. Leave me alone.
“It’s so tight, have you been saving yourself for me? I know you have. No one can have that, but me, isn’t that right Porsche?”
Dreamer: Book 7 of The Steel MC Montana Charter Page 19
