by Joanna Wylde
“Okay,” Horse said, shrugging.
“Wait!” Evans shouted.
I cocked a brow at him. “I thought we couldn’t afford to let you live? That’s what you just told me. What’s the holdup?”
“While he’s still alive, he’s still got hope,” Bam said, smirking. “So now he’s gonna do exactly what you tell him, because every minute he’s breathing means he could still get out of this. Am I right, Nate?”
“Get my phone,” Nate said, sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I’ll make the call.”
“We’ll dial for you, ’cause we’re helpful that way,” Horse said. “People don’t always give us full credit for our warm, fuzzy side, but it’s definitely there. We just love to help.”
“Fuckin’ Mother Teresa of the MC world, Horse,” Ruger chimed in. “Brings a tear to my eye.”
Gage snorted and tossed me the man’s phone.
“Who do I call?” I asked. “Remember, if you double-cross us, you die. If Jessica dies, you die. You got a lot more to lose here than I do, because I really don’t give two shits about the kid. Might be easier for me if she doesn’t live. Something to keep in mind.”
“Julia Strauss,” he said. “That’s the number.”
I scrolled through the contacts, finding the name. Then I hit the call button and put it on speakerphone. It picked up, but nobody spoke.
“It’s me,” Nate said, eyes darting quickly around the room. I wondered if he’d warn them. Probably not. The man was too much of a coward to sacrifice himself for a cause. For once I agreed with him—the cartel wasn’t worth a sacrifice, and they sure as shit wouldn’t appreciate or reward one. “It’s done.”
There was a pause, and then a man with a deep voice and faint Spanish accent replied.
“You sure? We didn’t hear anything on the scanner.”
“No police report,” Nate said. “London called me after she shot him, and I went out there. Now she’s dead, too, made it look like a murder-suicide. I left them—we’ll let someone else find the bodies. You can let the girl go now.”
The man gave a harsh laugh.
“I’ll authorize the transfer to your account,” he said, and the line went dead.
Nate’s face fell, the hope in his eyes fading.
“They’re going to kill her,” he said. “Always knew they would. She’s a good kid …”
I punched him in the face so hard his chair fell over backward. His head hit the floor with a hollow-sounding thud and he started crying again. Standing over him, I cracked my knuckles, choosing my words for maximum effect.
“While she’s alive, you’re alive,” I told him. “So if you have any idea how to find these fuckers, now is the time to talk. If we get her out because of information you give us, the deal stands.”
“I thought you didn’t care if she lived or not?” he asked, blinking in the glare of the work lights hanging from the ceiling. “You’re going to kill me and we both know it. Why should I help you?”
Painter stepped over, nudging the man’s shoulder with one booted foot. He’d only just gotten back to the Armory, after settling Melanie in at the house. Perfect timing—he had his own scores to settle with Evans.
“How’s this?” he asked, the words soft and feral. “Let’s throw in a little more motivation. How ’bout you help us get Jess out safe and I won’t kill your parents.”
I glanced at him, impressed because he’d really stepped up his game. Painter was still young, but the past year had changed him. Nate’s mouth gaped and Painter laughed, reaching down to grab the front of his uniform shirt, jerking his body up—chair and all—and setting him upright again. Then he leaned down, right into Evans’s face.
“I don’t get off on old bitches, but I’ll make an exception for your mom,” he whispered. “This is my promise to you. I’ll fuck every hole she has before I slit her throat, and I’ll be sure to tell her it’s all from you.”
“I can give you an address,” Evans moaned, his entire body shaking. “I don’t know for sure if he’s there, but he has a warehouse. I saw it once. It’s the perfect place to hold her—that’s all the information I have.”
“Well, aren’t you just the reasonable little man?” Horse asked, grinning at him. “I just knew we could work this out. Now let’s take care of some more business. I think you need to call in sick to work—you just don’t look quite right. Maybe it’s your time of the month or somethin’, so you’d best let them know. Wouldn’t want ’em worrying, would we?”
“Gee, you’re always so thoughtful,” Bam Bam said to Horse.
“I try,” Horse responded, his tone modest. I snorted back a laugh, then nodded at Painter to follow me out of the room.
“That was a new level of twisted shit, little bro,” I said quietly as we walked down the hall together toward London’s room. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but what the fuck?”
Painter shrugged.
“If Jessica dies, Melanie will cry.”
I studied him, wondering if I wanted to go there. Nope, I really didn’t.
“Fair enough. Go let the others know we’re riding to Portland. Deke called in a favor, so we’ll be hopping a cargo flight south from there.”
“’Bout time we took the war to them,” Painter replied, that feral gleam in his eyes again.
“Don’t get too excited. There’ll be bodies before this is over.”
“Can’t live forever. You decide what you’re doing with London yet?”
I stopped in front of her door, frowning thoughtfully.
“No goddamn idea,” I said. “Takin’ her to Portland with us. We’ll make a decision there. She might be useful to us down south—don’t like the idea of leaving her alone here. Someone might go vigilante on her ass.”
“Sounds good, prez,” he said, then started toward the stairs. I grasped the bolt, sliding it open, then reached for the handle to open the door, wondering what exactly the fuck I was going to do about London.
Heather, if you’re actually out there somewhere, I could sure use your advice right about now.
She didn’t answer, which shouldn’t have surprised me, seein’ as she was a figment of my imagination. Still, bitch always chimed in fast enough when it wasn’t convenient for me. Probably sittin’ up in heaven right now, drinkin’ a beer and laughing her ass off.
Fuckin’ women.
LONDON
By the time Reese came back, I’d started shivering so hard my muscles and joints ached from the strain. My toes and fingers had gone numb, and while freezing to death wasn’t exactly a danger, this borderline hypothermia shit bit the big one.
Then I heard footsteps outside the door, and the low murmur of voices. The bolt slid back with a thud and the door opened. Light from the hallway blinded me at first, and I blinked rapidly at the shadowy outline of what had to be Reese.
I supposed I should be scared of him, but I was just way too cold.
“H-hey,” I said, the word unsteady. “A-a-any word on J-Jess?”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, and I started laughing because the question was so ridiculously stupid.
“W-w-why don’t we just l-list what’s right?” I asked, too tired and cold to think straight. He shut the door and came toward me, sitting down on the bed.
“Shit, you’re freezing,” he muttered, pulling back the blankets. “Fuck.”
Within seconds, he’d wrapped me up in the blanket and was carrying me out of the room, yelling at Painter to go find some keys or something. He hauled me down the corridor and up three flights of stairs before turning down the same long hallway we’d visited when I’d first come looking for Jessica.
Painter was ahead of us, opening up one of the rooms, and then Reese carried me in and set me on my feet. He fumbled for a minute to unlock the handcuffs, then stripped off my wet clothing with smooth efficiency. He led me to a tiny bathroom, switching on the shower and waiting until steam started rising before putting me under the hot spray.
Amazing.
The water flooded over me, and after a few minutes my shivers died down. Reese stood watching me, his face pensive, until the water started to cool. I reached over and twisted the faucet closed.
“You have a towel?” I asked, feeling self-conscious. Sure, he’d seen me naked … but that was before. He stepped out of the bathroom, returning seconds later to hold a towel out to me wordlessly. I dried off quickly, then wrapped it around me.
“You’re all bruised up,” he said.
I shrugged. “Shit happens.”
“C’mon over to the bed. Let’s talk.”
“Is this like the last ‘talk’ we had?” I asked, my voice rasping—probably from all the screaming I’d done. “I know you’re in charge, but I’m still kind of sore down below. Not sure I can handle more talking quite yet.”
He shook his head, eyes serious. I walked over to him as he sat on the bed and learned back against the wall. He caught my hand and tugged me down until I settled between his legs, my back to his stomach. His arms came around me and I let myself relax into his heat and strength, wishing things had been different.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked him finally, hating to break the strange sense of peace that had settled between us. “I realize you have no reason to believe me, but I’m sorry for what I did, Reese. Really sorry, and not just because it backfired on me. I know it was wrong and stupid and you’ll never trust me again … but if there’s a way for me to help you fight, I want to do it.”
“Fight? What do you mean?”
“I’m not stupid. These people—these drug dealers—they’re out to hurt you, and probably a whole lot of other people, too.”
“They’re a cartel. Big one, out of Mexico. Control the West Coast trade, up through northern Cali. Movin’ upward now into Oregon and southern Idaho.”
“I want to stop them. I don’t care what it takes,” I murmured, burrowing deeper into his embrace. My neck still hurt from the tiny cut he’d given me, but considering I’d tried to shoot him, I’d gotten off easy. At least so far. I still didn’t know what they planned to do with me, but for the moment I chose not to think about the future.
Sounds crazy, but even now I felt safe when he held me.
“What about Jess?” he asked.
“I don’t think they ever planned to let her go,” I whispered. “I think she’s going to die unless someone stops them. Kills them. They’re evil.”
“Wish you weren’t right,” he replied, and I felt his chin come to rest on top of my head. “Cartel bastards think I’m dead now. Think you shot me, then killed yourself. They still aren’t gonna let her go, even though we gave them what they wanted.”
Shit. I’d suspected, but hearing Reese lay it all out felt like a punch to the gut. I swallowed.
“How did you convince them we’re dead?”
“Deputy Dick told them.”
“Why would he lie to them? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“We asked him very nicely.”
Somehow I didn’t think Reese was using the word “nicely” in the traditional sense. Didn’t sound promising for Nate’s future prospects. I considered the situation—did it bother me that the Reapers had obviously done something terrifying and horrible to make him lie?
No. It really didn’t. Did that make me a bad person?
I decided I didn’t care.
“He used Jess, then he sent her down to those people knowing what they are,” I said slowly. “And he tried to turn me into a murderer. I don’t know if it’s allowed under the circumstances, but I’d like to see him before you kill him. Talk to him. I have things to say, and I’d like to see his face when he realizes he lost.”
“Assuming we had him—and I’m not sayin’ we do—why would we let you witness something that could be used against us?”
“I want to be an accomplice,” I told him, the words spilling out of me with sudden force. “I want to make Nate pay, and I want to shut those fuckers down. I know you’re planning to do something big. I can sense it—all those meetings? People coming in from all over, and extra security? There’s something happening and I’m in the middle of it now. I messed everything up with you, and I know you can’t trust me … But I’ll do whatever I can to help. Anything. I figure there’s a good chance I won’t survive this situation and I’m coming to peace with that—but I really want to make Nate pay before I go, Reese. I want to look him in the eye and watch him suffer. Then I want to shoot him.”
The thought made me smile, and I wondered how the hell I’d gone from cleaning lady to bloodthirsty killer. Okay, so I wasn’t a very competent killer, but the sentiment was there …
“Damn,” he muttered, pulling me into him tighter. “When did you turn so hard-core?”
“When I realized my girl is dying or already dead”—the words made me choke, but I forced myself to push past them—“and that Nate Evans is the reason. I had a good life before I met him. It wasn’t perfect, but I had a home and a family, and he took them away from me. Fuck him, Reese. He should have to pay for what he did.”
I felt Reese’s lips touch the top of my head as I bit back tears. I didn’t want to cry or look weak or beg for mercy—I’d made my bed … Now I had to own up to my choices.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Sorry for all of it. For trying to shoot you. For not trusting you. You didn’t deserve any of this.”
“Little late for that.”
“I know.”
Silence fell again.
“We’re going to Portland in a couple of hours,” Reese said softly. “Then we’re heading down to California to make a strategic strike at the cartel leadership. Got our targets already, been scoping ’em out for a long time now. I’m going to try and find Jessica while I’m down there.”
I felt a sudden surge of hope, then bit it back. I couldn’t afford hope.
“How can I help?”
“You can’t, unless you remembered something you haven’t told us already?”
I shook my head, thinking hard.
“I told you everything,” I said. “I wish I knew more. Will you let me see Nate?”
He didn’t answer for a minute, and then he sighed.
“Yeah. But you can’t shoot him. We might still need his ass.”
“What’s going to happen to him?”
“That’s on a need-to-know basis. Somethin’ you should learn about the club—we don’t like it when people ask too many questions. We’ll be leaving soon, and you’re coming with us. Marie is bringing over some shit for you to wear.”
My breath caught.
“Does she know what I did?”
“Nope,” he said. “And she won’t. We don’t need the girls all worked up about your situation, so keep your mouth shut if you happen to see one of them.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“For what?”
“Trusting me again.”
“I don’t trust you for shit.”
“You trust me enough to come to Portland with you. I can’t change what happened, but I promise I won’t fuck up again, Reese.”
“You really expect me to fall for that?”
I sighed, so many thoughts running through my head that I couldn’t hardly catch them all …
“Just promise me one thing,” I said finally.
“What’s that?”
“If there’s a way for me to help you stop the cartel, let me do it. I don’t care if it’s dangerous. You can even use me for bait, if you think it’ll work. I just want the chance to fight back, for Jessica and for me.”
He exhaled hard. “We’ll see.”
Half an hour later I was dressed in biker babe clothing just a little too small for my generous curves. Marie and I were the same height, but my chest was a little more … substantial. At least I was warm and dry. They’d even found me a leather jacket somewhere, which was important because apparently I’d be riding to Portland on the back of Reese’s bike. This surprised me—I’
d assumed he wouldn’t want me around, or that his brothers wouldn’t tolerate me.
Apparently the politics of biker betrayal were more complicated than I realized.
People had started gathering for the trip when Reese led me down the stairs and into the basement for a second time that night. I followed him down the hallway until we reached the same nasty, scary room where they’d hung me from the ceiling just a few hours earlier.
Things were moving so fast I could hardly keep up.
Reese pushed the door open, and I walked in to find Nate sitting in a battered metal chair, his arms and legs tied down tight. A dirty bandanna had been used to gag his mouth. Dried blood crusted his face and hair. It looked to me like one of his hands had been smashed with a mallet.
He wasn’t a happy camper.
The fire I felt died a little, because imagining Nate in pain and seeing him like this were two very different things. I didn’t feel sorry for him, exactly. Just sort of creeped out. I was determined, though. I wanted to personally make him pay and this was my big opportunity.
“You wanted to talk to him?” Bolt asked, and I glanced over to see he’d been waiting for us in the room. I nodded hesitantly.
“Nate, are you awake?” I asked. My former boyfriend’s eyes flickered open, catching on my face.
“You want the gag off?” Reese asked, his hand at the small of my back. I still had no idea what the club had planned for me in the next twenty-four hours, but at least they hadn’t beaten the shit out of me like this. Good thing, too. I had too much work to do before they killed me. Jessica needed saving and I wanted revenge, too. After that? Well, I’d probably be dead then, so I guess I wouldn’t worry about it.
“No, I don’t want to hear anything he has to say,” I answered. Then I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Nate, I came down here because I want you to know I see exactly who and what you are. You’re a pathetic, evil little man, and I hope they kill you. I already asked Reese if I could shoot you and he said no. I found this very disappointing.”
Nate’s eyes widened and I smiled, understanding for the first time in my life how one person could enjoy hurting another, because for better or worse this felt kind of good.
