Don't Say It: Ronacks Motorcycle Club

by Debra Kayn

  "Yes." Gia paused to calm down. "Are the police saying anything in the papers or on the news?"

  "No. Nothing. I hoped since I hadn't heard from you that nobody followed you. You're okay, right?"

  "Physically, yes. But, I'm scared and frustrated. I don't know what to do. Swiss swore he'd take care of everything and make the men stop, but you and I both know what they've done and what they tried to do to me before I ran to the shelter." Gia sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

  "Listen to me, Gia. You have to think about if you're better off by yourself or with Swiss." Bianca paused. "I'll help you any way I can, but the shelter's funds are limited. We have a network we work with, and you're the first woman we've helped financially to be placed in a private home out of state. I can go in front of the board and request a transfer to another shelter and try to get you farther away, maybe D.C. or Chicago. But, the chance of it happening is slim if not impossible."

  Moving was not an option. The first step out the door, the men would follow her.

  "I don't understand why they want me dead. I don't know who they are, and I never witnessed them killing Sean and Trinity." She leaned over and cradled her forehead in her hand. "Maybe I should go to the police here in Haugan. Maybe they'll help."

  "What they'll do is listen, and then they'll convince you to take out a restraining order, but you don't have the names of the men." Bianca's voice hardened. "We've gone over your options before, and nothing has changed."

  "I know. I know." She glanced toward the door. "I should go. Swiss could wake up at any time and wonder who I'm talking to. I just...I needed to talk. You're the only one who understands what I'm going through."

  "You haven't told him who is helping you?"

  "Yes." She sighed. "Swiss knows everything. I even told him the name of the shelter that sent me here, but I don't know what else to do...you're my lifeline to what is going on back there. You understand, and Trinity was your friend, too. I might not have known you before, but I value our friendship now."

  "How are you calling me?"

  Gia wrinkled her nose, knowing she took a big chance to reach out to Bianca. "Swiss gave me an untraceable phone, but I'm going to take the battery out and put it in water after I'm done. I won't take any chances."

  "Will that work?"

  "I don't know. It's the only thing I can think of doing without waking Swiss up."

  "Gia..." Bianca softened her voice. "I know you don't want to, but I think it'd be better if you keep the phone and tell Swiss who you called."

  "But what if he tells me to stop calling you?"

  "Do you trust him?"

  "I guess." She rubbed her hand over her eyes. There was more to the situation than she could confess to Bianca. Swiss had become everything to her, and her private relationship muddied everything.

  "Who can help you more, Swiss or me?"

  She closed her eyes. Admitting that Swiss was doing more than the police, Bianca, and even herself, put everything in order of importance.

  "He moved you in with him. He gave you a phone. Use your head, honey. He's not going to be upset that you contacted me. You need to work with him and if there's anything you're keeping from him, tell him, so he can end this nightmare for both of us," said Bianca.

  Her head pounded. After Swiss's indifference toward her last night, she dreaded talking to him. She'd thought having sex together meant something more. Not that she expected him to treat her like they were together, but at least friends.

  "Are you still there?" asked Bianca.

  "Yes." She opened her eyes. "I'll talk to Swiss."

  "Promise me."

  "I promise you," said Gia.

  "Good." Bianca exhaled over the phone. "Call me back as soon as you can. That way I know everything is okay."

  "I'll try." She stood. "Thanks for talking me down."

  "That's what I'm here for."

  "Okay, I'll let you go. Bye."

  "Bye," said Bianca.

  Gia disconnected the call and walked out of the bathroom. Wide awake, she turned to go into the kitchen where using the faucet with the quieter plumbing would hopefully not wake Swiss, and she almost ran into him. She pressed her hand to her chest to stop her sudden fright.

  "I didn't see you standing there," she said, gasping. "Did I wake you?"

  He held up his phone. "Got a call."

  "Oh?" She smoothed the front of Swiss's T-shirt down the front of her. "Is everything okay?"

  "Why don't you tell me?" Swiss stepped back, motioned toward the couch, and turned on the light. "And, before you start, I'll go ahead and tell you the phone you're holding onto tightly is untraceable to everyone, except Ronacks Motorcycle Club. Every time you make a call, the phone number you're dialing shows up on a computer at the clubhouse. Whatever you say during that call is recorded. Now, I'm expecting Rod to call me back any moment with all the details, but I'd like to give you a chance to tell me yourself who you called and what was discussed before I hear it from someone else."

  "You tapped the phone you gave me?" she whispered.

  He sat down on the couch. "I promised to keep you safe."

  She looked down at the phone in her hand and set it on the coffee table. He'd asked her to trust him, and the whole time, he never believed her. He never trusted her.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Gia stood stiffly in the middle of Swiss's living room staring at him blankly. He gave her time to wrap her head around what she'd done by using the phone. What he'd done by giving her the phone.

  In a few minutes, Rod would call him and play her conversation over the phone and give him the details of who Gia called. He wanted to believe she had a female friend she missed or an elderly neighbor she checked up on every month.

  His gut had told him he was wrong. It's why he'd asked Battery for the traceable phone weeks ago.

  She stepped to the side, sank down in the chair opposite the couch, and curled around herself, hugging her middle. "You don't believe me."

  "That you're in danger?" He stayed calm. "I believe someone slashed your tires and wrote 'Dead' on your windshield. I know for a fact that two people were murdered in Seattle where you claimed you worked. I know Mel got his bike ran over."

  "But, you don't believe the killers are after me," she stated.

  "Someone is fucking with you, Gia. I've seen the proof." He slowed down in an attempt to get her to talk. "Why don't you tell me who you called?"

  She closed her mouth and stared at him. He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. Trained to wait out the enemy, he could sit here until the sun came up waiting for her to answer, and she would answer. He'd make sure of it.

  Except, she wasn't the enemy.

  He cared about her. He wasn't judging.

  He rubbed his hands together watching her, waiting for her to trust him. At the moment, she wouldn't believe he was on her side. Everything he'd done, he'd done for her.

  The phone rang. He gazed at Gia giving her the chance to come clean, knowing whatever she hid would come out into the open and change everything. Until now, he never realized how much weight he put on her being honest with him.

  She stared at him without saying a word, challenging him to pick up the phone. To go over her head and find out what she'd done. To prove she was like his ex-wife and to admit that he'd thought of her more than someone who shared his bed for sex.

  He looked away, unable to test her, and let Rod's call go to voice mail.

  Gia exhaled audibly in the small room.

  He'd made his choice.

  "Sweet, talk to me," he whispered.

  "I trusted you."

  Without breaking their standoff, he said, "You can still trust me."

  She shook her head slowly. He leaned back on the couch. It'd been twenty-four years since he'd pushed for answers. Out of practice at being close to a woman and agitated that his feelings for Gia had stepped between his need to protect her and his desire to have her, he couldn't go back to ga
mbling with the life he'd set up for himself. He wasn't willing to compromise.

  "Fuck this," he muttered, picking up the phone.

  He called her bluff and put the call into Rod.

  "Are you ready?" said Swiss into the phone.

  He stared at Gia, wishing she'd stop him.

  "Yeah. I was going to give you two minutes and put out a call for the club to ride over there and find out why the fuck you weren't answering your phone," said Rod.

  Swiss paused, hoping Gia would stop him. She remained silent. He couldn't delay any longer.

  "Do you have the recording?" asked Swiss.

  "Yeah. All six and a half minutes of the conversation."

  "I'm going to put you on speaker. Go ahead and play it." Swiss lowered the phone, tapped the button, and set the cell on the coffee table between him and Gia.

  "Hello?"

  "It's me. Gia. I am so glad to hear your voice."

  "Oh my, God. Where have you been? I've been worried sick not hearing from you."

  "With Swiss. The men after me are here. They found me and slashed my tires and left a message on my car, and ran over one of the Ronacks member's motorcycle. Ronacks are protecting me, but they haven't seen the men after me in over a week."

  ...

  Intent on listening to every word, he stood and stared down at the phone. His heart thundered in his chest the further the conversation went. Gia never spoke of a woman named Bianca, and yet, the woman knew about the situation in Seattle and urged Gia to trust him.

  Who was the other woman?

  Where was she?

  Could she be the female that kept showing up at Pine Bar and Grill?

  The phone clicked, and Rod said, "Did you hear everything?"

  He sat back down on the couch, glanced at Gia sitting stone still in the chair, and rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah."

  "I've trailed the phone number, and we've got a couple red flags," said Rod. "I'd suggest taking me off speakerphone, walking outside, and letting me talk to you in private."

  Swiss stared at Gia. She stared back, formidable in her stance not to talk.

  "No, go ahead. I want Gia to hear what you found out." His cheek twitched, and he wanted to reach up and rub the scar.

  "Swiss, brother, that is not a good idea."

  "Just fucking do it." Swiss reached for his pack of cigarettes and realized he only had on his jeans and hadn't taken the time to put on a shirt or his vest.

  "Okay." Rod paused and cleared his throat. "Gia called the woman Bianca. The phone number goes to someone else."

  Gia frowned and shook her head. "That's not possible. Bianca gave me the number to her private cell phone because her work phone is traceable."

  "Swiss, I want to ask you again if you'd like to take this conversation somewhere private?" asked Rod.

  Swiss fisted his hand. "Go on."

  "I did some digging with the name of the shelter you gave me in Seattle and searched for an employee named Bianca, last name unknown, and there are no female employees with that name or any variation I could come up with in two minutes."

  "Could it be a new hire?" asked Swiss.

  Gia inched to the edge of the seat. He took in the way her legs shook, and her bare feet bounced against the floor.

  "Possibly." The sound of paper crinkling came over the speaker. "But I doubt it. The name registered on the phone matches an employee at Inner Seattle Woman's shelter. Same woman, and I believe it's the woman Gia worked with to come to Montana."

  Swiss ran his hand over his whiskered jaw. "What's that lady's name?"

  "Heather Jones."

  Swiss flinched, a jolt pierced his cheek, and he shook his head. "Repeat the name."

  "Heather Jones," said Rod.

  Sweat broke out across Swiss's back, and he stood running his hands down his face. Impossible.

  Gia got to her feet. "Swiss?"

  He held up his hand. "Don't."

  "What's going on, brother?" asked Rod over the speaker.

  He shook his head. There was no way. No fucking way.

  Gia touched his arm. He jerked away, staring at her as if he hadn't been between her legs every fucking night since she moved in. That the woman who made him meals, cleaned his living quarters, and sighed after he gave her an orgasm was the same one who had lied to him the whole time.

  "Swiss, talk to me," ordered Rod.

  "I'll call you later." He stepped over to the phone and disconnected the call.

  Gia hugged her middle. "I don't know who—"

  "Don't say it." His harsh breathing filled the room.

  "But, I don't know who—"

  "You know fucking well who she is." He stepped in front of her. "What I want to know is what in the hell are you doing with my daughter?"

  Gia's head snapped back. "Your daughter?"

  His head pounded, and he clamped down at the roar building and pressing on his chest to come out. The loss he thought he'd lived through was reborn and took him to his knees.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Swiss's big body crumbled in front of Gia. She covered her mouth and reached out for him without breaching the space he created around him with his painful gaze. Kneeling, Swiss slumped forward, his arms hung uselessly on his thighs.

  The last hour a nightmare she failed to understand. She'd talked to Bianca, not the other person Rod mentioned over the phone. She could prove it.

  No, she couldn't.

  None of the Ronacks members knew what Bianca looked like, but she'd met Bianca when she'd ran to the shelter for help. Bianca was the woman who'd comforted and helped her. Bianca helped her finance the trip and found the duplex for her. Bianca was her anchor when the world seemed to be attacking her from all sides.

  Had Swiss thought Bianca had his daughter's phone?

  "Where is she?" said Swiss, his monotone voice dragged down with emotion.

  Gia took a step forward and dropped to her knees in front of him. Afraid to touch him in his unreceptive condition, she rocked back and forth.

  "Bianca?" she whispered.

  His head snapped up, and his angry gaze met hers. "No, my daughter."

  "Swiss, I don't know your daughter." She inhaled deeply. "The conversation you listened to was between the woman who helped me at the woman's shelter and myself. I swear on my life. Her name is Bianca."

  "There's no Bianca who works there."

  She shook her head, frustrated over all the confusion. "I don't know. Maybe the workers go by different names when they're helping others. They do their best to protect women who are in danger. It could be that Bianca isn't her real name, but if that's so, I wasn't aware of it."

  Swiss pushed to his feet, strode to the television, and picked up the picture she'd studied many times of him and his daughter from years ago. "Do you recognize her?"

  Gia stood and accepted the picture. All she could see was a little girl who loved her daddy.

  "Does she look like someone you know?" said Swiss harshly.

  Wanting to help Swiss, she studied the picture again for his sake. The child was a normal little girl with long dark hair and a round face. She had a button nose, and her eyes were lit up with a smile.

  Gia shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't know any children—"

  "She's not a child anymore. She's twenty-six years old."

  "I know. I'm listening to you, Swiss." Gia softened her voice. "It's just that in the picture, she looks like a child to me, and it's hard to imagine what she looks like today. If you could describe her mother to me, maybe I could—"

  His hand sliced the air.

  Tears welled in her vision. "I'm sorry, Swiss. I wish, I understood what you needed from me, or you could explain what I've done."

  "Done?" he said, calm and scary. "You have no fucking clue what you've done."

  "Then enlighten me."

  He ignored her, grabbed his phone, and tapped out a message on the screen. She stood by helplessly. He walked past her to the bedroom and returned f
ully dressed. She had no time to ask him what he planned to do when a knock came at the door, and Mel stepped inside the duplex.

  "Watch her," ordered Swiss before he walked out and the door slammed shut.

  Mel grimaced and looked at Gia when the roar of a motorcycle started up outside. "Uh, do you know what's going on?"

  "No," she whispered, reaching out for the chair and sitting down. "He's upset."

  "Shit." Mel blew out his breath. "He's breaking code."

  Tired of not understanding Swiss or the dynamics of the club, she snapped, "What code?"

  "Ride with purpose." Mel sat down on the couch. "He's only supposed to ride for a reason. Anger isn't one of them."

  A weight settled down on her shoulders. The whole night her fault, and yet she couldn't understand what she'd done. Swiss gave her the phone. He had to expect she'd use it. The only thing she'd done was keep her contact with Bianca secret. Her conversations with Bianca never put her at risk or she would've cut ties when she left Seattle. The woman's shelter was helping her.

  "I've gotta call Battery," mumbled Mel, pulling out his phone. It was as if she'd stepped into a different life. Swiss blamed her for something to do with his daughter. Rod tapped her private phone call. Ronacks had rules, and now the bikers were going to invade the duplex, and she had no answers for anyone.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  One after another, Ronacks members cruised by Swiss as the sun rose below the cutting edge of the Bitterroot Mountains in the distance. He sat sideways on his Harley and counted eleven riders, which meant Mel had called an emergency in on him, and his brothers were marking off a circle of safety around him.

  The excess anger and panic that had overtaken him in the duplex at hearing his daughter's name had worn off five minutes ago. Swiss crossed his ankles and lit a cigarette, glancing at his raw knuckles. After he'd left Gia, he'd gone three miles to the river and let out his anger on a Tamarack tree until he realized fear was what pounded in his head, not anger.

  Fear for his daughter.

  He had no right to Heather, but hearing her name come from Rod's lips brought out what he'd struggled to tamper down for twenty-two years. The hope that she'd seek him out. The fear that she hated him. The anger that his hands were tied when it came to his flesh and blood.