LOST KING: THE KINGS OF RETRIBUTION MC

by Alvarez, Sandy

  "Everything okay in here?" I ask, and Christy is the first to speak.

  "Yes. The officer here was just about to take Liam's statement on what happened tonight."

  "Well alright, I'll leave you all to it. I just wanted to check on you before heading home."

  "If you don't mind, Dr. Evans, I'd like for you to stick around. I need to speak with you after I finish questioning Liam."

  "Sure officer," I say taking a seat next to the window on the other side of the room. When I notice it's nearly eleven o'clock, and I haven't heard anything from Quinn, I pull out my phone and fire off a text. He said he would be here by ten o'clock to follow me home. It's not like him to be late or at least contact me if he was going to be. I'm just about to text Austin since he's the one who is on hospital watch today when Liam says something that not only catches my attention, but also sends a cold chill down my spine.

  Standing from my seat, I walk over to the edge of the hospital bed as dread seeps into my stomach. "Did you say you were at the youth center tonight when you were assaulted?" I ask interrupting the officers questioning.

  "Yes. Quinn and I were working on my bike. He said he was going to stay late and help since it wasn't a school night. He wanted me to get home so I wouldn't miss curfew. It was around nine o'clock when we decided to call it a night. Quinn was getting some parts from my truck while I began gathering up the tools. "

  "What happened next?" the officer questions.

  "I was putting tools away when two dudes grabbed me. After that everything happened so fast. One of the men holding me had a gun. He told Quinn if he didn't go with them they were going to kill me." At his last statement, Beth lets out a sob. The officer begins to speak again, but I can't hear anything past the whooshing sound in my ears. It's taking everything I have to choke down the bile rising in my throat. I know what's coming next out of Liam's mouth, yet I'm not prepared to hear it.

  "Quinn gave himself up for me," Liam chokes out. "He gave himself up and then they made him watch as they beat the shit out of me."

  "Can you tell me what these men look like?" the officer asks.

  "No, sir. I don't remember," Liam curtly replies.

  Suddenly my vision blurs, and my legs feel as they are about to give out. Thankfully, Christy comes up behind me and catches me before I fall and guides me over to a chair.

  "Is she okay?" the officer inquired standing from his chair.

  "She's fine officer. Just a little stomach bug," Christy lies. "Emerson, look at me."

  Fighting back nausea and tears threatening to spill out, I look at my friend who's kneeled in front of me.

  "You have to call the club right now,"she says in a hushed tone, so the cop doesn't hear us. "You have to call Jake and get them here now."

  Drawing every bit of strength I have in me, I quickly stand and excuse myself from the room. I don't want to alert the officer to what I am doing. My loyalty is to the club, and right now the man I love is missing. I have a feeling the shit that has been happening with the other bikers has something to do with Quinn's abduction. If that's true, the cops won't be any help. Running down the hall, I slip into the stairwell, and with shaky hands immediately dial Jake.

  "Doc?" Jake's husky voice answers and I can no longer hold back my anguished sob.

  "Jake."

  "Emerson, sweetheart?" his voice now gentle but alert. "What's wrong?"

  "You and the guys need to come to the hospital—now," I cry, "some guys took Quinn." I hear some rustling in the background along with Jake barking orders followed by the sound of his motorcycle starting.

  "The guys and I are on our way sweetheart. Be there soon." Then the line goes dead.

  Swiping the tears off my face, I take a couple of deep breaths. "Get your shit together, Emerson. Quinn needs you to stay strong," I say to myself. By the time I calm myself down and decide to walk outside to get some fresh air I hear the rumble of Harley's pulling into the lot. Lead by Jake is Logan, Gabriel, Reid, and Bennett. Every one of them with the look of murder in their eyes, and it's that look that gives me hope. I give the guys a brief rundown of what Liam said went down earlier tonight.

  "I want to talk to the boy," Jake demands, and we all make our way up to his hospital room. When we walk in the officer is still here, and he stands.

  "Delane. You and your boys need to leave. The cops will handle the situation."

  "I don't fuckin' think so. One of my brothers is missing, and if you think me or my men are going to go home and sit around with our thumbs up our asses, then you have another thing comin'," Jake squares off.

  "Don't make me have to take you all in for obstruction," the cop spits.

  I hear a growling noise come from Gabriel.

  "We're not obstructing shit," Jake fires back.

  When the cop opens his mouth to say something, Beth interrupts, "Jake and his men can stay. If my son remembers anything else, we'll be sure to give your department a call."

  The cop reaches into his pocket and gives Beth a card with a phone number. "Call me if he remembers anything else."

  I can tell by the officer's red face he doesn't like the fact he was dismissed, and Jake got his way. As soon as the cop disappears out of the room, we all turn our attention towards Liam.

  "Satans Reapers," he says. I realize he lied to the cop telling him he didn't remember who took Quinn. I look to his mom to gauge her reaction to her son lying to the authorities, and she doesn't look the least bit upset. That goes to show the kind of impact Quinn has had on this boy's life. He and his mom are choosing to give their loyalty to the club rather than the police. Jake turns and gives Gabriel and Reid a signal and the two of them burst out of the room. He turns to Bennett and barks, "Lockdown."

  "I'm real sorry, Mr. Delane," Liam apologizes. "I should have fought harder, but those men were too strong."

  Walking over to the hospital bed, Jake places his hand on the kid's shoulder. "None of this shit is your fault, son. Quinn did what any of us would expect him to do. If he were here now, he'd kick your ass for feeling guilty about it. Now, we're going to head out and let you get some rest."

  It's in this moment I see why Quinn and the guys admire Jake so much and what makes him a good President. His brother is missing, and only God knows what's being done to him right now, but here he is keeping his cool in front of this kid and reassuring him not to place blame on himself.

  I follow Jake and Logan out of the hospital and to the parking lot where I watch Bella climb off Grey's bike and head straight for me. Her tears mirror my own, making me aware she's heard the news by now, and I realize Logan most likely summoned her here for my sake. These people have become my family, and right now I need them more than ever.

  Bella's steps never falter as she makes her way across the parking lot towards me. As soon as I am within arms reach she pulls me in for a hug. I cling to her and finally let the tears that I have been holding back fall.

  "It's going to be okay, Emerson. They'll find him." A second later Grey pulls up beside us in my Jeep and hops out.

  "Angel, I want you to drive Emerson back to the clubhouse. Jake and I will lead, and Grey will tail," Logan orders.

  Knowing we don't have time to waste, I climb into the passenger seat of my car while Bella gets in on the other side. When we pull up to the clubhouse, the first person I see rushing out the door towards Jake is Quinn's mom Victoria. I watch him gently grab her by her shoulders and murmur something to her. A second later she lets out a blood-curdling cry just before Jake scoops her up and carries her inside.

  My body is numb. I sit in my Jeep unmoving. I don't know where to go from here. What do I do? I've never felt so helpless in all my life. How could God be so cruel? Why would he bring me the love of my life only to take him away so soon? A rapping on my window brings me out of my fog.

  I turn my tear-filled eyes to see Blake standing next to my passenger door. When I don't move, he opens the door for me. "Come on, Doc. Let's get you inside."


  With a slight nod, I take Blake's hand and make my way into the clubhouse to face my reality.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Quinn

  A dull throb accompanied by ringing in my ears seems to be the only thing I can focus on at the moment I start to come to my senses. My eyelids feel heavy, but I try prying them open when I feel my body jostle from side to side. The sensations I'm feeling—the vibrations and humming of wheels running along asphalt brings me to the conclusion I'm in a moving vehicle.

  I lick my lips. Fuck, my mouth tastes like I ate a bag of cotton balls. After several attempts, I crack my lids. The smell of paint and paint thinner is overwhelming. Lying still I hone in on the low murmured voices coming from somewhere in the vehicle, but after a few minutes, they fall silent. Unfortunately, through my brain fog, I can't make out a word.

  Still secured behind my back, I wiggle my hands that are now numb from the lack of blood flow due to the tightness of the bonds. Shit. Lifting my head slightly off the floor, I do my best to glance around. No windows. Painters supplies like ladders and white tarps clink on the other side of where I lay. I have no idea how long I've been passed out, but from the little to no light in here I have to assume it hasn't been for very long.

  "Well looky here, fellas. It looks like pretty boy decided to join the party," the detached voice drifts from the farthest end of the van, followed by the strike of a lighter setting his face aglow as he lights a smoke. My eyes fixate on the orange-red glow of the burning end of the cigarette as he takes a drag. The fucker sure was quiet this whole time sitting in his little corner.

  "Aww, shucks. I'm flattered you find me attractive, but my dick doesn't swing that way," I taunt him. Not that it's in my best interest to fuck with the asshole, but what the hell, there's nothin' better to do at the moment. As expected I get a rise out of him. The toe of his heavy boot makes direct contact with my balls, sucking the air from my lungs and leaving me with a deep resonating guttural pain equivalent to feeling like I could shit myself at any moment. God damn, I'd rather get punched in the face than get kicked in the balls. Hit where it hurts, right?

  "Who's laughing now, asshole," the guy spits.

  "Sit the fuck down, Smokey. We need him to walk on his own unless you plan on carrying his ass the whole way there," the voice I recognize as Twiggy hollers out from behind me, so he's either driving this heap or sitting in the passenger seat. Smokey, as he calls himself, sits back down, but not before thumping his lit cigarette ashes onto my face.

  Bracing my foot against a stack of paint cans, I maneuver myself to sit in an upright position, pushing my back against the ladder on the opposite side. The van falls silent. It gives me a clear-headed moment to figure out how I'm gonna get out of the mess I'm in. By now Emerson will have been trying to find out why I never showed up to follow her home from work. Then my thoughts shift to Liam. The poor kid. They worked him over good. I just hope someone finds him.

  The ride becomes bumpier after a few minutes before coming to a sudden stop. No one exchanges words until the back doors swing open allowing the dim moonlight in.

  "Time to go. Prez wants shit done before daybreak," Twiggy orders. With force, the guy riding in the back along with me grabs me by the collar of my leather cut, shoving me out the double doors. With no way to catch my fall, I land on my knees, a mixture of sand and rock beneath them sending dull throbs of pain through both joints. Glancing around, I try to make out our location. We've stopped a few yards away from a bridge. The reflection of the moon lights the water below. Shit. I don't see any signs or markers. It's too fuckin' dark.

  "Stand his ass up," someone's told.

  "Stop being a bossy, prick, Twiggy. No one was left in charge of this little adventure." They start to argue amongst themselves. The one who kicked my baby makers hauls me up from my kneeled position. My patience runnin' thin, I proceed to kick his feet out from under him. Lifting my foot, I bring it down, crushin' the heel of my twelve-inch boot between his legs and see how far I can shove his balls up his ass.

  "How's that feel motherfucker?" I grind harder before my body is slammed against the side of the van with a gun pointed at my face. Turning his head, Twiggy address the other guy who is picking himself up off the ground holding his pint-sized dick in the palm of his hand. "Get rid of the van."

  Ushering me towards the edge of the tree line he warns, "Try some stupid shit like that again I'll shoot you where you stand."

  My attention shifts to the engine of the van revving before watching as it barrels towards the bridge railing then plunges into the water below. His two biker buddies take off into the woods and Twiggy waves the barrel of his gun in their direction. "Get to walkin'."

  With two leading the way—one shining a dim flashlight to guide us through the darkness and one behind me we begin making our way through the dense trees. Tilting my head back, I glance at the night sky, hoping maybe the position of the stars might give me some idea of the direction we are walking in. Sadly, between the cloudy skies and the thick tree canopies above us, I can't make out much of anything.

  With their ease of navigation, my theory that they might be held up in an area such as this proves accurate. They know where they are going.

  Here's the thing. I'm still alive. Which means, they have an agenda. For now, that's good. It gives my brothers time to try and find my ass. It's also bad. Unfortunately, because that means they have plans for me. They get to toy with me. Bad because the deeper we hike into the woods, the harder it will be for the club to find me. I value my life. I have everything to live for. I'm not about to throw it all away and risk dying just yet.

  Thankfully, the three of them are so focused on where they are going they let me be. One thing I happen to notice, which is completely stupid on their part but beneficial to me is I've watched one of the guys pluck what looks to be fruit candy from his pocket—and often. When he does this, he tosses the wrapper to the ground. Ten times. I've kept count. I'm hoping one of the others doesn't catch on or may be too dumb to give a shit that he's leaving a crumb trail. Granted, the possibility of someone—one of my brothers hiking into this section of the mountain is slim.

  Never say never. Right?

  While trying to keep my mind from wandering—keep myself from overthinking about Emerson and my unborn child, and what she must be going through, I start counting to help me keep track of time. We've walked for a good two hours or more since I began to count not long after disappearing among the cover of the trees.

  Up ahead is a small clearing. The guy in front with the flashlight stops and casts the light down at his feet and starts looking for something by kicking leaves and branches from side to side. A heavy thick rope comes into view. Squatting, he grips the string into his hand and lifts. What the hell? A piece of old as fuck plywood lifts off the forest floor and I'm staring into a dark hole. Is this where they plan on keeping me? I feel like I've dropped into a real-life deliverance scene and pretty soon I'll hear banjos playing in the background.

  Just as I get the idea, I'm about to be pushed into the abyss and left to rot the flashlight reveals steps leading down to hell.

  "Get in," Twiggy pushes me forward with a hand between my shoulder blades. Again, the one with the light goes down first, followed by me then the other two. Once we've descended several steps, my feet touch the bottom.

  Holy shit. I'm in an underground bunker of some sort. From what I can make out in the cover of darkness it looks like the inside of a large shipping container. Solid steel all around. How the hell did someone get this big ass thing here in the first place? It's like walking into one of those weird reality shows.

  "I get it. You guys are like those doomsday preppers you see on TV or somethin'? You believe we all die in a zombie apocalypse?" That earns me a sharp blow to the side of my head with the heavy end of a gun. I squeeze my eyes shut. That one stung. I shake it off. Dim lights flicker before illuminating half of the space, bringing part of the room into view. At the far end of the c
ontainer with his arms crossed over his broad chest, Boulder their president sits on a chair, a sinister grin on his face. Another one of his men sitting across from him.

  Shits about to get real.

  "Ah, our guest has arrived," he stands. My head turns from left to right taking in my surroundings. "Impressive huh?" he states walking over to a small fridge retrieving a bottle of water from the inside. I have to agree with him. It is impressive. How the hell do they even have electricity isolated out here? Then I spot a collection of car batteries stacked on a shelf to my left. Boulder jerks his head, gesturing for his men to move me towards a chair with leather straps attached to the arms and legs. Next to the chair sits a table draped with a tarp to hide whatever lies underneath.

  Smokey pulls a knife from his boot, and cuts the zip ties from my wrist and slices my skin in the process. The sting is nothing compared to the relief my fingers are feeling as my blood rushes back to the tips and the prickles of numbness start to fade. Forcefully pushed down into the chair, they strap me in leaving one hand free.

  Boulder hands me an unopened bottle of water. Eyeballing him, I take it. I'm not a dumbass. I need to stay hydrated as often as I can get it because I have no idea how long this whole ordeal will play out before my brothers find me. I have the opportunity to escape, or—they kill me. Either way, they want to keep me alive for now, and that's the way I'd like to keep it too.

  Letting out a heavy sigh of thirst after gulping half the water down my dry throat, I address the elephant in the room. Me. "Alright boys, let's get this show on the road. You can do what you want with me, but know this—I'm not talkin'. I'll die for my brothers; It's something called loyalty—something you don't know anything about. Let's see what you got."