Filthy Ride: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Iron Bones MC) (Whiskey Bad Boys Book 3)

by Kathryn Thomas

  “You’re just going to keep hurting yourself,” he said. “I’m sorry about the tape, but you weren’t going to play nice, and right now, it would be better if we didn’t draw any attention. I didn’t think you were going to wake up so quickly.”

  I glared at him, quiet now that I finally figured out it wasn’t going to make a difference.

  “I even got your handbag from the car,” he said, holding up my brown leather bag. “In case you need it.”

  I frowned at him so hard, furious that his seedy hands were all over my stuff. I was just angry all over, about everything. Kenneth leaned forward and turned the ignition. The engine rolled over once and caught on the second time, the car coughing to life under me. I wanted to know where we were going. I wanted to get out of the car and head back to my own. I wanted to rewind the night and go home after I left my shift at work so that none of this would happen. I took deep breaths through my nose, trying to keep my breathing even and steady. I wanted Saxon to come save me.

  Kenneth waited for a moment, and I saw the lights of another vehicle slowly creep by, like whoever it was drove slowly. Maybe like a patrol car. I let out a half-hearted moan. I knew that it was pointless to keep shouting now. When the lights passed, Kenneth put his blinker on, like a model citizen, and pulled away from the side of the road and onto the street.

  At first, he took a couple of turns, and judging from the dark ghosts of buildings, I could see through the car window as we drove, I could roughly judge where we were. I tried to keep track of his turns as we drove alone, following us on a map in my mind like a tracker. I got confused after the fourth turn when I thought we were at the strip mall, but instead, I saw factories tower over the car. All the thinking had hurt my head. It throbbed dully like the initial screaming ache wasn’t getting attention anymore, and now it just hurt in a corner, sulking.

  In fact, it felt the way I felt. I took another deep breath and closed my eyes, focusing on the sound and the feel of the car beneath me. The small vibrations traveling through me was soothing, and it reminded me of road trips my parents used to take me on when I was little. I used to lie on the back seat like this, feeling the purr of the car and looking at the scenery that rose up high enough that it showed in the window.

  It was ironic that that came back to me. I was in trouble now, and none of this was pleasant. Maybe my head injury was worse than I thought and I was starting to hallucinate. I half-hoped that was the case because it was a kind of an escape. Yet, I didn’t want it at all, because if I was too hurt I couldn’t’ escape. I was going to escape.

  I paid attention to the scenery again, the determination that came with the thought of escape dawning on me. We weren’t going to drive much longer. We couldn’t. Where was he going to take me? And he had the diner that he needed to take care of. No, I was banking on the thought that he was just going to take me to his home.

  When we’d been driving a while, an hour if I had to guess, I was starting to think that maybe I’d been wrong. Wherever Kenneth lived, it wasn’t an hour away from the diner. The shadows of buildings visible to me had turned into trees a while ago, and then it had faded away altogether, replaced by the inky blanket of night stretching into infinity.

  The sky was pricked with stars, little lights stretched across the span of the window like holes in the fabric of the sky. My heart started pounding at the base of my throat, and I swallowed to try and get it back down. Fear clutched its cold fingers around my neck, and I focused on breathing again. The radio suddenly clicked on, choir music filling the car. It swelled around me until I couldn’t breathe, voices singing in a language I couldn’t understand. I didn’t know where we were going, or how I was going to get away.

  My headache responded to the music and pulsed until I closed my eyes. I didn’t know how long I lay like that, but eventually everything faded to black again.

  CHAPTER 27

  The jail door slid open with a loud grate and clank that jerked me out of a light sleep. I jumped up, hands going automatically for the knife I usually had in my pocket. It wasn’t on me, obviously. The officer that opened the door raised his eyebrows at me. I dropped my hands and sighed.

  “Come on,” the officer said. I tipped my head to the side, and my neck clicked. It pinched a nerve, and I lifted my hand, rubbing it. “You’re getting out.”

  I followed the officer. He didn’t cuff me. Maybe I was no longer considered a threat. Not like when they brought me in here last night, bound like I was dangerous. Then again, they had found me running from someone else’s home after I’d tripped the alarm. And even though I had only taken one thing, that was still theft.

  “You’re lucky. The owner doesn’t want to press charges, and because you didn’t steal anything, the state doesn’t have a valid reason to keep you here.”

  What? I’d definitely stolen something, but if I was being allowed to walk, I wasn’t going to say something. I signed some papers, and then they brought a thick envelope, the kind they use for long distance mail, and slid out my belongings. Watch, cell phone, wallet, knife, cigarettes, matches and the tapes I’d taken.

  “What’s this doing here?” I asked, picking up the tape. The man behind the desk looked up at me like I was breaking protocol by asking. He was about three sizes too big, with buttons stretching around his belly like they were going to pop and a bottom lip that covered the top one.

  “This was logged as your belongings, sir,” he said. I couldn’t remember when I’d been called “sir” last. Being released from jail was a lot more comfortable in how they treated me than arriving here.

  I turned the tape over and over in my hand. Kenneth wasn’t pressing charges. Nothing was stolen. The tape was logged as my personal belongings. I nodded and slid everything into the pockets they belonged, tucking the tape into my jacket.

  “Where’s my bike?” I asked.

  The officer looked at me like I was asking him things he shouldn’t need to know.

  “I’m guessing it’s where you left it,” he said, and I was really starting to dislike this guy.

  “Is that it?” I asked.

  “That’s it. Get out of here,” the guy said. I nodded and turned toward the exit. When I walked out of the station, Skinner and Patch were in the parking lot, sitting on their bikes. I flipped up my jacket collar, lit up a cigarette, and blew smoke into the morning air, watching it curl away from me. I walked toward Skinner, taking my time.

  “How much was it to get me out?” I asked.

  Skinner shook his head. “Nothing. No bail amount.”

  I frowned. “The guy didn’t press charges,” I said.

  “And you’re fucking lucky, too. Because I was going to take it out of your flesh for endangering our operation like that. What the fuck were you doing?”

  I reached for the tape and brought it out. The sun glinted off the cd in a blue rainbow shimmer.

  “Trying to not endanger the operation,” I said. “I miscalculated the guy.”

  “Is he off your case now?” Skinner asked.

  “I think so.” Because he hadn’t pressed charges. It was weird. Sherman was willing to set the cops on me, but now that I’d been locked up, he’d decided not to press charges. And he’d told the police nothing was stolen, if I summed the whole thing up correctly.

  “Can I catch a lift to my bike?” I asked.

  Skinner looked at Patch, jabbed his thumb in my direction and chuckled. He looked back at me with hard eyes that held absolutely no sympathy or emotion and started his bike. Patch followed suit, and they left me standing in front of the police station alone.

  I shook my head and pulled my phone out of my pocket. It was off. I pressed the power button and waited for it to boot. There were a couple of messages on my phone, text and voice, and a notification of missed calls. Tanya had tried so many times to call. The last time was just before midnight.

  I pressed the phone against my ear and walked toward the bus station, waiting for it to ring on the other side of t
he line. I got her voicemail. I tried again and got the same result. I slipped my phone into my pocket and got on the bus, taking it to Sherman’s house where I’d left my bike in the alley. I glanced at the driveway when I walked past, but there were no cars. He was probably at the diner.

  I found my bike sound and untampered with behind the house and got on it. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten caught. First, I’d spent so long under that damn bed, and then I’d tripped the alarms so the police picked me up. Fucking idiot.

  I turned my bike and drove to the diner. When I parked in front of it, I revved my engine. I still wasn’t going in there. The blonde who popped her head out the window yesterday appeared at the door, and I beckoned her closer. She frowned at me and looked uncertain. I beckoned again, hoping she wouldn’t trust her instincts and stay away from me.

  Finally, she pushed open the glass door and stepped into the light. Her hair shone golden in the sun, and she looked older than I thought she was at first. Maybe thirties instead of twenties.

  “Is Tanya in?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “She never showed up for her shift,” she said.

  “What does your boss have to say about it?”

  She tipped her head, looking confused about why I would ask that. “He didn’t come in either.”

  I took two seconds to put it all together before I started worrying.

  “Thanks,” I said to her and revved the engine again, letting go of the brake so that the bike ripped away from where she stood. Sherman hadn’t come into the diner. Tanya hadn’t shown for work. Her phone was off.

  I drove to her place. I was starting to know the route, able to drive it without thinking. Sherman was getting himself in my bad books, and that was never a good place to be. I swore out loud, and the wind whipped the words away about as fast as they left my mouth. My fingers itched, and I was building up a nice appetite for bloodlust. He was playing it safe with the cops for a reason. He was doing something he shouldn’t. I was willing to bet that he hadn’t reported anything stolen because that would bring them closer to him.

  I parked the bike in the road and pushed open the door that led into the building. There were people coming down the stairs dressed for work, and they jumped to the side to get out of my way. One mom hid her children behind her, like just being close to me was going to open them up to some sort of disease, like being a biker was contagious. It just pissed me off more, and my mood was already black.

  This was a bad time to fuck with me, and Sherman had just gone there. I’d just spent a night in jail because of him, with aches and spasms because of the plank I’d had to sleep on and the stench in the cell. I ran up all the way to Tanya’s floor and found the door almost right away. I pounded on it with a fist and then waited, chest rising and falling with the intensity of my breathing.

  I wasn’t just tired from the run up the stairs. My adrenaline was pumping and rage burned through my veins. If Tanya was home and I saw her in person, saw that she was alright, I would be able to calm down. Until then I was ready to take down anyone and anything that stood between me and her, and I wasn’t going to feel sorry about it.

  There was no answer, so I hammered on the door again. I was just about to kick in the door, find an outlet for my anger, when I heard locks click and the scrape of a burglar chain being removed, and the door opened a crack.

  Red peeped at me with one eye through the slit. When she saw me she opened the door. Maybe it was because of my face. I wore a scowl that was dangerous for everyone involved, and I stomped into the apartment.

  “Where’s Tanya?” I demanded. Red was wearing pajamas—white with little sheep on them. Cute if you were into that sort of thing.

  “I thought she was with you,” she said and rubbed an eye with her palm like she'd just woken up. Maybe she had.

  “What do you mean you thought she was with me?”

  “Well, when she didn’t come home last night, I figured you’d found her and she’d spent the night with you. That wouldn’t be the first time, you know.”

  I bristled at her last comment and the arrogance she used to say it, but let it slide. The first half of the sentence was more important. “She didn’t come home last night?”

  Red shook her head and her curls bounced over her shoulders. Her freckles annoyed me.

  I let out a grunt and paced the small apartment.

  “I spent the night in jail, so no, she’s not with me. And she didn’t show up to work this morning, either. It was the first place I went.”

  Red looked at me with a blank expression, and then it slowly dawned on her.

  “You mean…?”

  “I mean that she’s in some kind of trouble, and I’m blaming her boss, because he didn’t show today either. She say anything to you about him?”

  Red crossed her hands over her chest and hunched her shoulders, shrinking in on herself.

  “She told me he was getting weird, making her nervous. She said that he was just short of harassing her, but she had it under control. We didn’t talk about him that much. More about you.”

  I ignored that statement.

  “Where else could she be?” I asked.

  “Nowhere else. Her parents live too far for her to just stop by on a whim, and she doesn’t really have friends.”

  “Fuck,” I cursed, and then glanced at Red.

  She looked at me with a blank expression.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled and walked to the front door.

  “Saxon,” Red called after me before I closed the door behind me, and it was strange hearing my names over her lips when I didn’t know hers.

  “Find her, okay?”

  I nodded. I was going to do just that. And when I did, I was going to reckon with Kenneth myself, threats and the law to hell. I was going to show him what it meant to mess with another man’s woman, and I was going to make sure he didn’t remember. I was going to make good on what I told him, that if he ever came close to her again I was going to make sure he ate through a straw for the rest of his life.

  CHAPTER 28

  When I opened my eyes again, the sun was streaming through all the car windows, bathing the interior in light. I narrowed my eyes, trying to adjust to the bright light. I turned my head slowly from side to side, and the pain was less. The nausea wasn’t there when I moved. It was a good sign.

  I tried to sit up, and this time, my body worked with me. My hands were still tied to my thighs which was awkward. I rolled onto my shoulder and pushed up with my elbow, and after a few tries, I managed. My body was stiff from lying down in an awkward position for so long. I tried to rub my eyes against my own shoulders, but I could only pull each shoulder up high enough to touch my cheekbone with my hands tied down.

  “You’re awake,” Kenneth said. I noticed he’d changed clothes. Instead of his dress suit pants and collared shirt, he wore jeans and a t-shirt now. I wondered if when we’d stopped if there’d been an opportunity for me to escape.

  “Are you thirsty?” he asked. I actually was. He glanced at me over his shoulder and reached his hand to my face, fumbling for the corner of the tape over my mouth. He peeled it off slightly and then yanked so the entire tape came off with one quick snap. It yanked the skin around my lips and on my cheeks and a burning sensation ran through my face.

  “Ow!” I cried out and opened my mouth, moving my lips to try to ease the pain.

  “Sorry,” he said. He held up a bottle over his shoulder, and I latched my lips onto it. He tipped it so water sloshed into my mouth. Some of it spilled onto my hands on my thighs, and I gulped, trying to get what I could down.

  “You’re not going to stop?” I asked when he took the bottle away. He shook his head.

  “I can’t stop now, sorry.” He glanced at me again. “Sorry about your hands. There wasn’t a lot of time to do a better job. You won’t believe how hard it is to tie someone up in the back of a car.”

  He said it as if it was normal, just a point of conversation, nothing out of the
ordinary.

  “I guess the upside is that you don’t have a lot of practice with this sort of thing,” I said. My voice was husky like I’d screamed a lot.

  Kenneth smiled. “I’m not all bad, you know. We just went at it all the wrong way. But we can fix it.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked. The scenery out the window was foreign. Wide-open plains stretched far out on every side of the car, with waist-high, wheat-colored grass and a blue sky that put autumn to shame.

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not? It’s not like I’m going to be able to tell anyone else.”

  He shrugged but didn’t answer my question. I had no idea where I was or where we were going. All I knew was that Kenneth had me tied in the back of his car, and I was pretty sure I’d left my phone behind in my own car. It was probably broken into by now, everything stolen.