by Davida Lynn
“You know what cash. The cash in a safe under the bar. Do you really think everyone takes your secret organization as seriously as you?” Vegas spoke with distain and sarcasm, shredding every word. “Your bikers get a drink or two in them and are more than happy to let secrets slip. You really ought to lock that down. In the meantime, I have loyal men that I need to pay.”
“You have to pay? Doesn’t sound all that loyal to me, Vegas.”
“I’d rather pay good men than delude myself into thinking that my friends were trustworthy. Loyalty comes at a price, which is something you and your precious Sons seem to have forgotten. I want that money, Trask, and I’m going to get it.”
He knew Vegas was pissed, but Trask didn’t care. No one spoke about his club that way, and he wasn’t going to take it. “That money is already spent. Go finish the job I tried to do and save everyone a shitload of hassle.”
“Tsk, tsk. Such a temper on you, Trask. You know, I really did think I was going to die. The only thing that kept me crawling away from that shithole of a bar was the thought that I would get even with you. It gave me strength. It gave me strength while I laid face down on a table and had neurosurgeons splitting me open from top to bottom. It gave me strength when the pain was enough to make me vomit.”
Vegas took a long breath. “Enough of this. You think I should kill myself? No. I tried to kill your father, but the bastard is apparently too stubborn for his own good. It was strange… standing over his body in the hospital.”
Trask nailed the gas pedal at the realization that Vegas had been to the hospital. It could mean only one thing.
Vegas laughed. “I couldn’t get the trick done with your pop, but maybe I can with your sweet mother. I want that cash, Trask Rivers, and you are most definitely going to give it to me. We’ll talk in the morning, once you’ve had some time to think it all through.”
Trask was speeding away from what was left of Los Bandoleros. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do, but as he heard his mother crying out in pain, he knew that standing by and doing nothing would get her killed.
Raven and Gunner were heading back into town when Trask flew past them. He was going fast enough that Raven’s hair changed direction for a split second. She leaned forward. “Wonder why he’s in such a hurry.”
Gunner didn’t turn back to say anything. He shrugged, knowing she would feel it. He wanted nothing more than to take his girl home and strip her down. They both needed a good, long shower. He was getting sick of running around twenty-four-seven for the club. The day at the reservoir had given him just a taste, and he needed more.
Not thirty seconds after the pickup truck barreled past them, though, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Can’t be good news.
Gunner fished out the phone, and his suspicions were confirmed. It was Trask. He took the call.
Yelling over the wind, he asked, “What’s up, Speed Racer?”
“Vegas has my mom. I think he hit the hospital. I’m heading there now. Get everyone together at someone’s house. We gotta head out tonight.” Trask’s voice was hard. He was out for vengeance.
“Captain hasn’t gotten any info on where we can find Vegas’ boy. We’re riding blind.”
“Then we’re riding blind. Vegas wants half a mil, or she’s dead. It’s as simple as that.”
Gunner could see the hot shower and the hot sex fading away. It would have to wait for another time. The matriarch of the Rising Sons had been taken. He tried to remember who was on duty. He didn’t know if they had been taken, knocked out, or killed. He had underestimated Vegas, believing he would stick to the shadows. Instead, he had struck inside Bakersfield again.
He nodded. “I’ll get everyone together and text you the location. We’re down on guns and we’ve got some real inexperienced guys. I’m behind you one hundred percent, but you need to know that the odds aren’t great.”
“Fuck the odds. We’re outta here first thing in the morning.” Click.
Gunner slid the phone back into his pocket and twisted the throttle back. He decided that at the closest gas station, he and Raven would play phone tree and get every biker in the know.
The couple were parked at a drive-in diner. Raven was sitting on a picnic bench beneath neon lights with a drink between her legs. Gunner watched her from his bike. She looked gorgeous and in charge. She was calling every biker on her contacts list. It had been her idea to meet at Tanner’s place. It was close enough to the highway and not too far out of the way for most of the Sons.
He downed the last of his hot dog and pulled out his own phone. He dialed Captain and prayed to the god of gasoline for good news.
After two rings, the old-timer picked up. “Yeah?”
“Timeline’s been pushed up to first light. You gotta have something for me. They got Faith.” Gunner heard exhaustion in his own voice. He was getting real sick of getting and giving bad news.
Captain sighed. “I heard. No word from my brother-in-law. He’s out looking, though. I’ll light a fire under his ass.”
“We’re gonna need more than fire. We are heading straight into unknown territory. Your boy’s gotta get us something, or we’ll be sitting ducks in Vegas. The club rides from Tanner’s place. I’ll text you the address.”
“Don’t bother, kid. He and I painted that Mustang of his. I know the place. I’ll see you in the morning, and I’ll do what I can about finding Maldonado.”
“At this point, we’ll take any info we can get. Addresses of businesses, any job history, family—anything.” Gunner hung up.
For a minute he stared at the ground. He wadded up the wrapper for his dinner and tossed it into the can fifteen feet away next to Raven. She gave him an exaggerated look, telling him that she was impressed. He dialed Trask.
Gunner didn’t wait for Trask to say anything. As soon as the ringing was interrupted, he dove in with his status report. “Raven is getting everyone up to speed. Captain didn’t have any more info on Maldonado, but he’s gonna push hard tonight. We’re gonna take off from Tanner’s place, since it will get us onto the highway fastest. Anything on your end?”
Trask didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Gunner almost thought the connection had been lost. “Hoser and Boss are missing. The nurses were drugged. I found them in the cafeteria. Bear is all right—I don’t think they touched him. Mom’s missing, and the ICU is a mess, so he wasn’t bluffing.”
“We’re gonna get them all back.” Gunner didn’t like the sound of Hoser and Boss gone. Bikers rarely took prisoners that weren’t bargaining chips. Vegas would kill them in a heartbeat if the Rising Sons got too close.
“We don’t come back to California without them. If there’s any more news, let me know.”
Gunner nodded. “See you first thing in the morning.” He hung up. Looking over at his girl, he saw that she was off the phone, so he took the opportunity to stroll over to her. Even in his weary state, he smiled at Raven. She was a real force. She pissed him off, she made him feel pure ecstasy, and she made him feel everything in between. She made him feel, and that hadn’t happened in a long time.
She smiled at him and took a long drag from her soda. “Progress?” Instead of sliding the Styrofoam back between her legs, Raven wrapped one of those legs around Gunner, pulling him in.
He nodded. “Progress.”
“We’re gonna get this done ASAP, then you and I are going on vacation. There are plenty of lakes around here. We’ll visit them all.”
Gunner smiled and laid his head on Raven’s shoulder. She ran her fingers through his hair, soothing him. He knew he was tired, but in that moment, hearing about a vacation with Raven, he felt used up. It was all he wanted. Trask had vengeance and his family driving him on, but since standing up to the corrupt cop, Gunner’s adrenaline had washed out of his system.
He kissed her where her neck and shoulder met. “Are we done making calls?”
“Two more, then we’re done.”
Gunner nodded and slid down onto the plastic-coat
ed table beside Raven. He laid his head in her lap and listened to her ring up the last two bikers. He didn’t care about the other people eating at the drive-in. He was too spent to keep up the hard biker persona. Maybe after a night of sleep he’d be ready to ride for Las Vegas, but until then, Gunner knew he was no good to the Rising Sons.
Faith tried the door for the hundredth time. It was locked, and it sounded pretty solid. She went over the facts. She was in a basement. She was locked in. She was hungry. That was where the facts ended.
She guessed that it was Monday, and she guessed that she was somewhere outside of Las Vegas, but they were nothing more than guesses.
The glass block let in a bit of light, but no details of the outside world. She had woken up with one hell of a headache an hour before, and since then, she hadn’t seen anyone. She sat on the cot and looked around. It was the only thing in the room, so the scan didn’t take long.
Faith let out a sigh. It wasn’t the first time she’d been swept up in Rising Sons business, but it was the first time she had been kidnapped.
As the manager of Los Bandoleros, she’d seen it all. Men had threatened her when her husband wasn’t around to hear it. Cops had pulled her over and harassed her. Women had come to her for money claiming to be sleeping with Bear. As always, she would sigh and shrug it off. It was part of the business. This time was different, though. She had been taken by force, and she had been taken from her husband’s side.
Faith believed her son was right—Vegas was out for revenge and after the group. Without seeing her attacker, she guessed that it was him and that he had taken her back to his home city. She didn’t really know what that meant. To her, he had been a decent young kid right until the moment he decided to turn against the Sons. Since then, all she knew of him was evil. He had run down her husband and attacked their life’s work. She wasn’t afraid for herself, but she was scared.
Faith was scared to be away from Bear. She could barely tear herself away for a night, even when Trask forced her to go home and get some sleep in something that was actually horizontal. When she slept at home away from Bear, she had nightmares. She woke screaming and drenched in sweat. Aside from showering and throwing on some different clothes, Faith got out of her home as quickly as possible. She thought the place was cold without Bear.
Her prison cell was cold, too. It was emotionally dead, yes, but the basement room was hovering somewhere around sixty degrees, and that was with the sun high in the sky. Faith had woken that morning shivering. The cot had no blanket or pillow, and her t-shirt hadn’t been enough to keep her warm.
She knew they’d be after the Sons’ money, whether it was Vegas or some rival gang. With the bar gone, the Sons were vulnerable. They could lose the territory in a hurry, but she didn’t think Vegas was after territory. He wanted to make sure the Sons were nothing but a group of biker enthusiasts, broke and without a leader. She sighed.
She stood up again. She had learned a thing or two in her twenty-some years as an ol’ lady. She was tougher than most, and she was smarter than most. The most important thing, she told herself, was that she was stronger than most.
The glass block was sealed well, and she was unable to pry up any of the caulking with her nails. She thought that even if she could get the blocks out, she wouldn’t be skinny enough to pull herself through. There was one outlet in the room, and her nail was strong enough to get the screw turning. She pulled off the panel, but couldn’t see anything on the other side. Not that she had expected to see anything.
The door was the last feature in the room. It was solid and thick. The knob turned, but the door didn’t budge when she pushed against it. She guessed that there was either a board across it, or it was padlocked on the other side. Faith knew a padlock would give with enough force. A board wouldn’t.
She turned back to the bed. Even if she could force the door, what then? She knew there’d be at least one man somewhere in the basement. There was probably only one way in or out. The first floor was teeming with bikers. She could hear their boots above her. Voices came through, but they were far too muffled to be understood. She couldn’t hear Vegas, but she was sure he’d be there.
Faith knew she’d have to wait but it didn’t take long at all. The voices got louder, and as she suspected, the sound of wood scraping across the door reached her seconds before it pulled outward. She sat upright as her heart raced.
There was a light far to the right down the hallway, but Faith couldn’t see any real features on the man. He stood in the doorway for a minute. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of begging or showing any fear. She could wait him out.
The man turned to his right and nodded, presumably up the stairs. He sighed and stepped inside. She looked him up and down, memorizing everything she could. Motorcycle boots, not that worn. Jeans. A sheath for a large knife was strapped to his right thigh. Tattoos up and down both arms. A Rolling Stones t-shirt. He was Hispanic, well-built, and if not for the cheesy mustache, he might have been handsome.
“Bathroom?” He had a thick accent.
She nodded. He gestured toward the doorway and she stood. The biker backed out and stood to the right. She stepped out and looked past him. A single uncovered bulb hung in the hallway, and next to it was the two-by-four that held the door snug. Beyond the bulb was a set of unfinished stairs that led up.
Faith knew there was no escape at present. She turned and saw a dim bathroom at the end of the short hallway. The smell hit her after the second step. She held her breath and stepped inside. When she turned around, the biker was right there outside the door. He reached in and flipped the switch on the wall, electrifying two lights over a filthy mirror and sink.
When she tried to push the door closed, his boot held it halfway open. “No, no. I no do that.” There was no emotion in his voice.
“Have some decency and respect for a woman.” Faith didn’t even want the stranger anywhere near her. She was repulsed by the fact that he wouldn’t let her close the door.
“Cracked. Final offer.” He stared at her. He wasn’t going to budge.
Faith closed the door as far as it would go. When there was just a sliver, she felt as comfortable as she was going to get.
After she flushed and opened the door, he stepped back and waved her back into the cell. She stood at the sink, washing her hands. The water was rusty brown, but she didn’t care. It gave her time outside the room, and she was going to try and get some information.
“You work for Vegas?” she asked with as casual a tone as she could muster.
“For Vegas? For the city? No, I no work for the city.” He was confused.
Faith nodded. So they were in Las Vegas. She didn’t know if Vegas himself was involved, though. He may have hired out the kidnapping. She turned off the sink. There was no towel, so she just flicked the water from her fingertips. She turned back to him.
“When do I get to see the boss? Whoever’s running the show?” She leaned against the doorframe. The biker did scare her, but she would be damned if he would be able to tell.
She could see the annoyance on his face. He was probably confused as to why she wasn’t scared or trembling. He waved her to her room. “Shut up. Get back in the room and shut up.”
As his right hand slid down closer to the knife, she put her hands up. “All right, sorry.” She stepped into the room, but stopped in the doorway. “I’m Faith. What’s your name?”
She didn’t see the shove coming. “Shut up!”
Faith lost her footing and fell to the hard concrete. She looked up in time to see the door slam closed. The wood barricading the other side slid back into place. She grabbed the cot and stood back up. She could already feel that a bruise would develop on her hip. She rubbed it and eased herself back down onto the bed.
Looking back up to the glass block window, Faith took in the new information. She was, indeed, located in Las Vegas. She didn’t see any affiliation tattoos, but that didn’t mean the Hispanic man didn’t h
ave any. He didn’t seem to know who Vegas was, so there was some other figurehead.
